Jackal Among Snakes

“I lost well over one thousand good people, Your Majesty,” Count Castille said to Argrave. “Good families relocated, leaving entire fields untended. When my father purchased the land well over eighty years ago, he bought it with the expectation that these serf families came with the land. For all intents and purposes… and meaning no disrespect, of course… recruiting people for Blackgard is tantamount to theft, Your Majesty. In the short term, we may have to abandon entire fields. There will be less taxes, which means less funds to utilize for other projects—road repairs, fortifications, or even the crown taxes. I cannot maintain my territory if there are no people within it. That, on top of the crippling debt to those patricians in Relize, with the land as collateral…!”

Argrave stared at the stocky man, nodding along as if he sympathized. His mind worked to translate it in real time: Your Majesty, please! It was really fun sewing, but this reaping business is no fun! I treated people poorly, but they weren’t supposed to do something about it! Only poor people face consequences for their actions!

“I have spoken to the other nobles in Atrus,” Castille continued. “And frankly… they’re in agreement. These immigration acts that the crown has been putting out have the potential to upend entire households. The knights under us are expecting wages that we have difficulty paying, and already many houses have abandoned keeping spellcasters in their service altogether. Our vassals were granted land made useless by people migrating away, and so they clamor to be made whole.”

Argrave’s translation worked again, rephrasing the count’s words. We are incapable of adapting to difficult circumstances, Your Majesty. This systemic exploitation business was booming, but times are tougher now. We need a little bit of economic stimulation in the form of live people, boxed and shipped back to untilled fields.

As Castille continued to explain why times were tough, it was quite tempting to leave them to their fate. Being born where he was, and having lived the life he lived, Argrave could muster no sympathy for a noble ‘down on his luck.’ To trade serfs along with land, to feel entitled for the profits of another’s labor… he would feel nothing if they did lose everything.

But then, the reason why these people came here and made these brazen requests was precisely because they had no sympathy for those who left their territory. And it was because of this their people emigrated in the first place. In a way, his lack of sympathy would end in the same result. Just as their serfs departed to Blackgard, so too would these nobles depart from Argrave’s camp.

And why? Because they were selfish? Perhaps that was the answer. But life can only exist by extinguishing other life. Selfishness was a practiced instinct drilled into all animals so thoroughly as to be inextricable.

Argrave focused on Castille calmly. The man seemed to be winding down his speech somewhat, and so Argrave raised his hand and said, “I understand, count. I think you’ve raised some very valid points. I think I’ll have an answer for you shortly, but I’d also like to speak to those representing the Magisters before I make a concrete decision.”

“Well… then, thank you, Your Majesty, Your Highness, for your time. But… your thoughts…”

“I think we’ll all walk away satisfied,” Argrave assured him with a plastic smile.

At that, the count dipped his head and left the room. Galamon followed behind, heading to retrieve the next participant in this meeting. Orion shut the door behind him, staring at Argrave and Anneliese on their couch.

“I dislike this,” the prince stated plainly.

Argrave leaned back into his couch, feeling rather philosophical. “That man was born into his life the same as the serfs were. He was told that he should do what he’s doing by his father, by all of his family, and by all those who raised him. He can barely conceive of a different way to live, of a different system of life.” He looked at Orion. “I’m not saying he’s a victim. I’m saying he’s typical. Average. People do things they know are wrong constantly. Monkey see, monkey do; it’s a tale as old as time.”

Anneliese watched Argrave in curiosity, almost trying to peer into his head. Then the door opened once more, and a gray-robed woman with an owl sewn on his robe walked in. She wore a cowl over her head, casting shadows over most of her face. Galamon stepped in after her, closing the door.

a seat, Magister Tilina,”

for agreeing to meet me, Your Majesty,” Tilina said, sitting

others sitting in at parliament,” Argrave began at once. “I’m

most of it was hidden in her cowl. He saw only her chin as she said, “Certainly. I know you have other concerns, so I shall spare you the preamble and get to our first issue. Bluntly put, many of the Magisters are discontent that their research is being disseminated among the

I recall, the agreement was that I would provide valuable things from Order of the Rose ruins, or other such sources of higher magic, in return for this surrender of knowledge.

efforts to conceal magic from the general public. Magic is an immeasurably dangerous thing. To have it proliferate society absolutely unchecked will result in… well, chaos,”

thought this was an argument that had some merit. “What would

and experience necessary to accurately discern who should learn magic and who should not. We request Your Majesty reconsider the legalization of magic practice outside the Order. Elsewise, many of our number would no longer feel comfortable supplying merchants with alchemical supplies, enchantments, and other

or we’ll go on strike, Argrave translated

out of business. Jast’s entire economy would crumble,”

be so. We cannot say as much for certain. But given the danger

feel about this?” Argrave

not as officials of the Order, Your Majesty,” Tilina dipped her

the void left behind. Elenore would probably see it as an opportunity to expand her business massively if indeed

confer. I’d like you to

Tilina said as she

she walked away, and only when the door was shut did he look

spells, lately,” Argrave began, voice distant. “Mozzahr is an S-rank spellcaster. That’s not even half of what gives him his strength, but

in the room looked at him,

a conversation with Castro about that. Such

She sunk back into the couch, catching onto the fact he was

asked. “Are you concerned about the conversations that we just had? Well, I don’t think you should be. And

revolutionary threatened to upend that by freeing serfs… well, I can understand why they would. I like to think I wouldn’t do what they’re doing in that situation, but we’ll never know.” Argrave looked back. “Fact is…

head in quiet agreement, but Orion looked quite

other dies of starvation.” Argrave shook