Jackal Among Snakes

Argrave stood at the stables with Anneliese, watching as the people there tended to the horses that had been drawing their carriage. She held a packet in her hand.

“To think your handwriting used to be so much neater,” Anneliese ruminated, biting her lip. “What is this strange script? It used to be so pretty… now I can barely read it, these days.”

Argrave scoffed. “Is that the point?”

“No, no, of course not,” she said, flashing a teasing smile at him. “Infusing blood magic into all spells… you really had your mind set on magic that caused you pain from the get-go, hmm?”

Argrave said nothing in response, looking back to the tower. “Wanted to seek Castro for counsel about [Blood Infusion], but…”

Argrave heard some commotion from the entrance to the Tower of the Gray Owl, and turned his head to see what this was all about. There, Castro walked, someone walking by his side with quite the hunch.

The Tower Master walked toward them, and Argrave moved to meet him halfway. His eyes wandered to the man that was coming with, and he saw Ingo. The Tower Master’s apprentice was in quite the state—his eyes were bloodshot, his pale skin was drawn tight against his bones, and his baby blue hair was thin and wispy. He shivered as though it was cold, but Argrave felt the weather was rather warm here. Ingo looked near death, quite frankly.

“Ingo wishes to meet this Alchemist. But I won’t allow whatever happens until I’ve met him myself, Your Majesty,” Castro said insistently yet respectfully. “I have my own carriage. We shall follow.”

“Are affairs settled at the Order?” Anneliese asked cautiously, her good-natured teasing vanished now that others were here. “This will not be a short journey. We have much to attend to before the matter with the Alchemist.”

“Yes,” Castro confirmed. “The Order is in capable hands.”

Argrave nodded. “Then… let’s get ready to go.”

#####

Their stay at the Tower of the Gray Owl was short, and then the march toward the Low Way of the Rose began again. As Anneliese said, there was much to attend to along the path—before they delved into the Low Way itself, the army, well-trained by Veidimen, cut their teeth against various necromantic abominations plaguing disparate territories. The devastation was not as extreme as Argrave recalled from Heroes of Berendar—but then, this was because he had taken efforts to mitigate the impact of the civil war and further warn people of the coming tumult. This tour served to lessen the burden placed upon the people of Vasquer, raising public safety and the royal image. Sometimes, blessings did come in pairs.

Despite the stemmed impact of Gerechtigkeit’s possession of the necromantic creations, their purge of evil was a good appetizer for what was to come. Argrave watched the army and their disciplined assault of various Order of the Rose strongholds, and he was well-pleased with the results. There were a few injuries, and one extremely unfortunate soul passed away from a collapse due to structural instability. But as was stipulated when they joined, their next of kin would receive generous compensation for his passing. Still, hearing of the first death reminded Argrave of why he was so ill at ease with raising and commanding an army.

carriage and joined with the Tower Master when they had stopped to camp for one night. The Tower Master sat before a fire beneath a

“How is Ingo

a tree, covered by blankets and

looks rather…” Argrave wiped

yes,” Castro nodded, then looked up at Argrave. “Fret not. The journey did not cause this. It is just his… blessing, as you

glanced at Orion, who guarded him diligently and then back at

shouldn’t ask, no?” Castro smiled genially yet bitterly.

fire. “Been a while

me… time

many more years than I have,” Argrave pointed

“It?” Castro repeated.

clarified as the fire

tedium, no matter how many years pass me by. You start to see cycles. Cycles in people, attitudes, nations, economies… collective memory is rather short.” Castro shrugged. “The people that become S-rank are obsessed with magic. I think… I think without it, not many of us would live as long, even with the lifespan. The obsession keeps us grounded. Not sane,

so he sighed. Ingo groaned, and when Argrave looked over he was clenching his fists hard enough to draw blood. Castro moved to remedy the man’s pain. It was easy to see Ingo as a child—helpless, innocent-looking,

Castro rejoined Argrave, sitting without a word of sorrow or complaint. Argrave

do you do it?” Argrave asked. “No—how have you done it? Take

responsibility,”

But I never hear you complain,”

moral,” Castro shook his head. “It may be moral, but that isn’t why

to elaborate. Castro eventually caught

Ingo’s abilities to their fullest, even at the young boy’s detriment—well, Ingo was young at the time,” the Tower Master began reluctantly. “It wasn’t possible, necessarily, but… that’s what the king wanted. Opposition arose from many parties. I found myself in the center of this political storm—and yes, it was political. It began as moral, but it ended political,” Castro declared. “And

“Noble,” Argrave commented.

why it drew attention. But after more details came out, he was forgotten. He was another part of another cycle, and his time came and went.” Castro looked to

“Why?” Argrave pressed.

on you. At the start, you’re young, vital, youthful—you can meet the tests. Maybe you get confident after handling the first blows ably. Still, every time your balance gets a little worse. But as I said—it’s constant.” The tower master looked at him. “What happened in the Bloodwoods, what happened at your parliament; these tests never end until you do. Trial after trial, just waiting for you to stumble, to succumb. People know what’s prudent, by and large. Most don’t do it. These cycles people fall into—they spin like whirlpools, drawing people in. Then they’re caught.

in silence, then asked, “How does that