Jackal Among Snakes

Anestis was a very, very long way from home. He had travelled miles upward through the earth, seeking his people’s secrets they had abandoned in the cities of old. His journey had taken him far beyond the abandoned cities, though, breaching even the surface. The sunlight from the suns was harsh enough to make him nauseous, and things were loud and fast and unpleasant.

The small mercy of his presence here was that he was a curiosity soon forgotten. When he had come upon the giant elf named Galamon, the man had been curious for no more than a day before he simply used Anestis’ knowledge of dwarven technology and then left him to his people, called the Veidimen. They were a people as barbaric as their land… and even when this human king had come, whisking him to his home of Vasquer, the humans were not so different. Though better organized with a hierarchy of nobility, their structure was still that of arbitrary status and hereditary nonsense. Their brutish size was indicative of their inferior morality and intellect, just as the dwarves described.

Anestis was far from home, indeed. But in the past few days, he’d felt that some of his home had come to this strange land.

This parliament… Anestis was used as a showpiece to validate the king’s proposal. Nonetheless, he had managed to learn this institution was the king’s doing. And seeing their debates, their discussions, and the relative equality of all the seats regardless of their stature brought back memories of the Dwarven Senate back home. It was a fledgling institution and a shadow of dwarven intellectualism, that much was obvious. But Anestis’ father was a senator, and so he had seen firsthand the government of his people at work.

King Argrave, despite his size indicating his great inferiority, had the spirit of the dwarves in him.

It was oxymoronic, almost, that their king should be the foremost representative of democratic principles. But through the days, rather than employ authority, he employed a silver tongue and a sharp mind to ruthlessly dismantle factions. His words were both traps and executioners, leading people thrice his age into fumbling their words or making promises they had not intended to make.

The nobles? On the first day they broached their proposal eagerly. They sought to restrain the serfs. They had formed a small faction within the parliament, and Anestis thought it clear they had legitimate momentum. After deftly ignoring the issue with misdirection, Argrave and his sister, Elenore, proposed naming a Viceroy of Atrus. They listed candidates for this position, isolating influential members from the rest, sewing distrust… and by the end of the first day, this infant faction had been long forgotten. They became nothing more than hyenas, currying favor with or slandering those that had been allies hours before.

The king’s sister, too, had a dwarven mind. The spellcasters sitting in on the parliament seemed to be prepared to remain unified. They had some experience with factional disputes, seeing as their organization functioned as an oligarchy similar to this one, if smaller in scope. Still, Elenore hardly gave them a chance to voice their thoughts before she pulled the rug out from beneath them. She promised a new source of revenue, providing hard numbers to back this up. The valiant protestors became weak in the knees and salivated over the golden guarantee.

And then there was the third dwarfish mind, the queen. Anestis had not seen it the first three days, but she might’ve been the shrewdest of them all. She did not speak to the parliament often, but the king spoke to her frequently, seeking counsel. And on the third day, when tempers were hot, and it seemed inevitable some conflict might arrive… she intermediated, soothing tempers with calm, kind words and a pleasant voice. She endeared herself to them as the good queen Anneliese, securing public support for herself, her family, and their policies.

‘Concessions’ were made, each and all in favor of the royal family. These factions had come here prepared to make demands, to resist a strong central government… and they left whipped and broken, bowing to him more than ever before. The government was centralized further yet with the implementation of a Viceroy of Atrus, and they made a new source of revenue out of thin air by giving spellcasters rights to spells they’d created. After all, the crown would make just as much money from their spells as they did.

And all of it… the king’s doing, of course.

The Dwarven Senate feared silver-tongued despots like Argrave, and rightly so. The king had a magnetism to him, both in appearance and in voice, that few others could stand up to. He had a voice that made one listen, had a strange elegance brought about by his magic, and had a way with words best suited for scammers or politicians. Then again, in dwarven culture, the two were often one in the same.

king fought for. The blue-bloods had been dissatisfied their serfs would dare seek more freedoms, and Argrave had defended them. He’d ensured stability for his country in doing so, keeping swords pointed toward the

Anestis saw they had an undeniable dwarfishness to them, and so questioned the judgment of his forefathers. And perhaps, just perhaps… if the Ebon Cult could truly be dealt with, there was a way

was rather pleased with the idea of these people debating his father. Perhaps that insufferable senator might finally

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ceiling. The enchantments keeping the room secured faintly twinkled in the night light—not enough to rouse anyone, but enough to be seen. They both had contended smiles on their faces. Perhaps it

to see if Anneliese was still awake, and then

alternative,” Anneliese

is tough. And

turned her head

in parliament. Now, we have to go back to the Burnt Desert to seal that ‘political’ union between Elenore and the King of the Scorched Sands,” Argrave justified himself. “But… while we’re there… maybe

the covers up with her. She peered down at

the idea at once, and Anneliese noticed this, for

one hand through his hair. “Just… Mozzahr is unnatural. And the Alchemist already promised his aid in

mess of pain and misery. Forgive me, but the idea does not evoke pleasant

skin with his hand. “Something good came

Alchemist will not indulge

journeys, collect spirits while we stall his armies, but the reality remains that Mozzahr is a monster. And he’ll be much more than what I remember. What

Finally, she looked back

hesitated for half a heartbeat and then said, “No. But he

you to this extent.” Anneliese

“And even if I did, it wouldn’t be as potent in my hands. Time

to me again,” Anneliese

it’s probably related to magic. Whatever the