Jackal Among Snakes

They walked through the verdant palace that marked the elven gods’ meeting area, following just behind the red-robed woman. This place was clearly a collaborative effort—the stones were beige and pleasant, the place was overgrown with greenery likely furnished by the god of agriculture, and it was all kept temperate by the pyres of the elven god of flames and war. Servants of Chiteng’s make wandered, tending to various things as they kept this place pristine. Elaborate fountains and streams of water fed the whole of this place, giving ambience and life to the tiered palace gardens.

Towering over all, the same great redwoods of the forest on Berendar shrouded this place in a dim yet pleasant canopy. Argrave felt like he strode through the Hanging Gardens of Babylon reborn in the heartlands of Californian redwoods. Though he followed after Chiteng’s servant, his eyes wandered whenever he caught flashes of purple before adjusting back quickly so as not to draw attention toward what needed to be stolen.

Perhaps ‘stolen’ was the wrong word, Argrave reasoned. If one is led through an orchard and plucks some fruit from the tree, is that stealing? How about thirty fruits? As it so happened, thirty was the number he’d asked Nikoletta to get—an arbitrary yet satisfactory figure. Argrave needed the purple berries growing in the gardens of his would-be allies. And the beautiful part of the thing was that he was near certain they wouldn’t be missed.

With Chiteng’s servants wandering, it’d be difficult. He trusted Nikoletta’s resourcefulness, doubly so when supported by Mina. They hadn’t been explicitly told they couldn’t pick berries, but they hadn’t been invited to partake, either. Argrave hoped he never had cause to try that excuse in the event she was caught. Regardless, they were too important to simply pass by. If he asked to take some, these stingy elven gods and goddesses might say no. Refusal wasn’t an option. Those humble purple berries slightly resembling strawberries were the key to supplying food for all of Blackgard, and perhaps all of Vasquer.

How did the saying go? Argrave thought as he followed the elven recreation. Ask for forgiveness, not for permission.

They came to the center of the elaborate tiered gardens where a giant metal portcullis rested above them, raised for passage. The servant stopped, turning on her heel. Beyond, what appeared to be a colosseum waited with a distant circle of chairs and people.

“My lord advises you enter alone. Not all welcome humankind, and numbers might draw ire,” she said with a plastic politeness betraying that she was not mortal.

Argrave nodded. “Humankind, is it? Then… Ganbaatar?” He reasoned that the divinity might be positively predisposed if he entered with one of their children—a nice token companion to prove he didn’t hate elves.

She turned her gaze towards the elven warrior who looked surprised to be asked to come along. “The lord did not…” she closed her eyes. “I’ve conveyed all the lord has. Unfortunately, He waits within. I cannot ask more of Him. Another thing He intended to disclose… though the gods within will not know of the seed of Erlebnis vested in your being, He suggests it is in your best interest to introduce this fact subtly. Do not draw any attention to it, but do not exclude it.”

Argrave was mighty pleased to hear that both Chiteng could not be reached, and that Erlebnis’ Blessing of Supersession would remain undetected—that meant just as it had been in Heroes of Berendar, this place was free of an active effect called [Omniscience] common in most gods’ realms. That effect prevented all stealth—anywhere one was, one could be found. Sensible people might hazard a guess as to why that would make stealing something difficult.

“Let’s go, then,” Argrave patted Ganbaatar’s shoulder and moved past the raised portcullis. He looked back. “Don’t get eaten by the plants, you three,” he told Orion, Nikoletta, and Mina, though the message was truly meant for two. Orion waved as they walked away but didn’t look happy about being left behind.

He was half-expecting the gate to fall down and some sort of battle to erupt, but nothing of the sort happened. No, they merely walked across the beige stone in even strides, heading for a meeting with the gods every bit as casually as one might a meeting with friends.

saw Chiteng standing there beside a chair, his arms behind his back and his red robe billowing in a slight breeze. This area was one of few where the sunlight poured past the giant redwood canopy unabated, and it illuminated a

up to Chiteng. “Are we waiting on more?”

should dignify this meeting with their presence,” Chiteng explained. “My younger

was blonde like all other wood elves, her eyes were blue and vast—she was Dairi, goddess of water. “Not only do you bring a human

used to. We did not need to leave our territory to converse,” an old elven man with long, long blonde hair reaching well past his feet and draping across the floor noted, his whole hair shaking as his head shook. He was Merata, god of agriculture.

thought to let Chiteng speak so as not to incense all parties present

dignity kill our enemies? Can you armor yourself in it? No. It’s only something to make the dignified feel better about themselves. Not only do you abandon us, but now you deem it undignified

voice. The rogue warrior was usually very low-key, speaking only when spoken to…

from a cross-legged position

not heard. I disavowed all of you, cast aside my worship. And now here I am, following alongside the best hope for my people I have

eyes. Ganbaatar had cast aside his

Chiteng warned,

voice cold and

Argrave lightly touched his

old spoke of how each of you fought among us, bleeding just as we did in defense of what was to become our home. And

restraint didn’t see any way to shut Ganbaatar up. He grabbed the man’s arm and squeezed firmly, but this man was a hardened

Dairi patiently indulged even as the others around her had

the last army still following the old ways of worship. And even though it is the last, perhaps half of those within it pray genuinely. The other half care not barring the fact they do their duty to

is a bitter drug. The gods here

now, the mortals do not know what they want until

forward in panic and swallowed, then said the first thing that came to mind—well, the

what everyone here wants,” he claimed. “And I

without paying his words mind, but the god of war Gunlik planted his bow upon the ground and leaned on it