Jackal Among Snakes

Argrave opened the first tome left behind by the elven monarch, reading through it carefully. It began without introducing its author, diving right to the heart of its contents. It was written in a strict yet elegant script. The writing was uniform enough it seemed typed.

I have witnessed twenty disciplined pikemen put an end to a horde of charging centaurs. Though the centaurs were also twenty, and easily quintuple the size of the pikemen, they died easily. That is not meant to diminish the centaurs—certainly they were stronger and faster than the pikemen, and could have killed those measly elves twenty times over.

However, by holding their ground, planting their pikes firmly upon the earth, these spearmen made the enemy’s strength their own. The centaur’s unstoppable charge ended up killing them as the pikemen used their own ferocity against them. That is the principle of this research; using the enemy’s strength as your own.

One may throw a punch at another’s face... or simply have someone run into a firm fist at their own accord. The end result is the same, but the effort expended is tremendously different. Master fighters use this principle with ease. When an opponent strikes their weapon, they allow the opponent’s momentum to redirect it while adding their own, delivering ripostes and parries that have tremendous power while maintaining their own stamina all the while.

Such expertise does not exist in the world of magic. My contemporaries are rather adroit at squeezing the most power out of spells they can, innovating on that front every day... but from the beginning, I believed there was another way. Let them maximize their power; it will become my weapon. There is no better ability for a sovereign, I believe.

My research stalled for a long while, a block partially broken past with the help of a theorist by the name of Lllewellen. His disappearance put an end to that, and I was adrift for many years. Delving into a magic many deemed useless in this day and age—shamanic magic—has yielded something finally worth putting to paper.

By using spirits, one can be freed of the constraints of all other schools of magic. They are a precious resource. In all my years, I have managed to collect only a few dozen. Most spellcasters are not aware of their existence, even. This first tome took eight years to develop.

However... I am satisfied with the results. At C-rank, this spell is resource-light, and dependent largely upon the spirits in one’s possession to manifest its full power. Given their rarity, these spells are thus fully fit for the sole use of the royal family. Before I make this spell known, we must endeavor to gather all spirits in the royal family. Let these spells become my legacy that ensures my bloodline’s sovereignty over this continent and many beyond it.

“That worked out great for you...” Argrave muttered, flipping to the next page where a familiar name waited.

[Requite]

Emperor Balzat I

Argrave looked at Anneliese as she studied another book, eyes furrowed deeply in concentration. These five tomes had the five imperial spells. Ironically, if Balzat had given these to his family ahead of time, they might have been able to use them in the cycle of judgment of their generation, surviving both the slave rebellion and Gerechtigkeit. Spirits were soon to be far more abundant.

The other four imperial tomes—Subjugate, Edify, Inspirit, and Bulwark—shared the same qualities as the one Argrave held: they were incredibly potent, magically efficient, and consumed spirits. The only one of high rank was [Subjugate], and it was S-rank. Their primary expenditure was spirits, not magic.

No other shamanic spells consumed as many spirits as the imperial spells. [Requite] did as Balzat described: it turned an enemy’s strength against them. Argrave’s plan had been simple; steal Onychinusa’s spirits, teleport to the elven gods, enlist their aid to secure yet more spirits, and fight using this spell. With it, he needn’t attack the emissaries himself. Instead, all of their magic would turn against them.

was powerless against other shamanic spells, and it required excellent timing for certain types of magic, foremost among them being lightning spells. It was as good a plan as Argrave could come up with, however. But if all was as Anneliese suggested, he

looked at him,

Still, all five would undoubtedly become another core of his repertoire. Balzat had intended them to serve

where

pack. “Meanwhile... I’ll work on the spell we need; namely, this one. Let’s

her about it in the past, but seeing was believing. And from the look of her face, she believed it

my best,” Anneliese said, handing him back [Requite] while

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she had always been refused. The general reason for refusal had been that the knowledge was not important. That had never fully satisfied her, but her life had enough distracting her that it seldom came into light. When it had, as in days past, it was quickly shut down by the

was never said, but Onychinusa knew it was forbidden

life had been spent reading whatever was in front of her—spell books, normal books, everything. And now that she had been handed this forbidden knowledge, old habit lined up

an elaborate lesson plan meant to teach children, but as it was meant for a teacher and not a student it had many references. She walked throughout the library, seeking out these references. She found all the history she could ever want—the first elves, the

this knowledge had been kept from her spurred her desire to obtain it... and now, with it so personally connected to her by blood relation,

on one thing in particular—namely, the family tree. She tracked the monarchs down, down, and down, finding more and more information

entry in book after book, looking for something to tie herself to the man. After she discovered the last emperor had siblings, her search widened... but as she came to realize that she had likely been born in the tumult of the slave rebellion, she realized it would be unlikely her existence would be noted anywhere

of doubt and longing welling in her heart. She paced near a painting on the wall, reaching for hope

then, after she’d paced in front of it perhaps a thousand times... the painting on the wall drew her attention. It was a large family of people with ancient elven features like hers. As she

it looked rather

‘mother’ rooted itself in her head, she felt sad. Sadness always made her angry, and so she called magic to destroy something. But everywhere she looked, all she could think of was that

muster the anger that drowned out all else.

was all she

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talk to the

studied the elven woman. Her eyes were red and puffy, and

change of heart, did you?" Argrave began happily, but