Jackal Among Snakes

All of the high-ranking members of the Stonepetal Sentinels were arrayed before Argrave side-by-side. They had all heard the spellcasters in their number; the king was possessed of magic enough to easily have breached A-rank by now. The two men by his side were giants both, and the sentinels were experienced enough to recognize that they bore enchanted armor. Even the king himself was no slouch, physically—standing a little over seven feet tall, his movements had a strange red mysticism to them. Even as he sat in a chair, cross-legged, he seemed imposing. The white-haired elven woman by his side was little different.

All of this entirely discounted the army he brought to the Low Way. The tension was palpable.

“So… what do you think will make things right between us?” the king questioned, leaning forth and entwining his hands together.

“Your Majesty…” one of them began. “We would… do anything you asked of us.”

“Are you the new Grandmaster Sentinel?” Argrave asked. When the man shook his head, he clicked his tongue. “Still haven’t chosen a new one? Impressive.” He sighed, then scanned them. “I think you know what you need to do, all of you.”

They looked between each other, feeling panic rise as the king’s request went unanswered. They all looked to the seniormost sentinel among them, pleading for aid. The old man swallowed bitterly, then looked at Argrave as he glared coldly. And then…

He fell to his knees and bowed. Everyone was shocked for a minute, but the tent became a scramble to see who could get to their knees the fastest. They stayed there, staring at the floor… but as seconds passed with silence, the old man dared a look up. Argrave was frowning in displeasure.

The man was about to bury his face in the dirt when the king finally said, “Did you listen to what Ossian said? At all? I don’t even see him here.” The king scanned their ignorant faces with his cold gray eyes, and then he sighed. “Good lord… unbelievable. Just because the man’s a pariah, doesn’t mean… well, whatever.” He swept back his black hair, and then said, “Get the crew together. Your watch is over.”

The upper echelon of the Stonepetal Sentinels all looked up slowly, fixing Argrave with a confused eye.

“We’re going to do something that should have been done long ago. We’re going to wipe out all of the Guardians of the Low Way. We’re going to secure the entire city of Nodremaid,” the king said passionately, then pointed at them. “And then, all of you are going to join a crusade against an enemy far worse than the Guardians.”

“Your Majesty, the Order of the Rose--!”

“Are you worried about what I might do with the knowledge in Nodremaid?” Argrave interrupted. “Well, don’t. As you remember, when last I came here… the blood in water stopped flowing. Do you think that was happenstance? And do you think my father, Felipe III, power-obsessed conqueror, would have left Order of the Rose spells unclaimed?” He shook his head slowly. “Fact is, the royal family has always had Rose-era spells. But the Low Way was… not something they cared about. None of my ancestors cared to fix the problem here.”

The Stonepetal Sentinels felt a chill come through them.

“But despite all that’s happened… it’s pointless to fight without end. I will set aside all that happened, and right a wrong that needs righting. Simply that,” the king declared, leaning back. “And I know all of you are good, deep down. You’ve endured a lot, living like this. Your ancestors, their ancestors… and you, fighting the good fight. I want to end that. Now, and forevermore,” he finished, raising his fist up. “Will you come along?”

#####

that tent feeling embarrassed beyond compare. First they’d bowed seeking mercy, and then they’d bowed offering praise. It killed any desire for any jokes he

and Rasten each commanded one portion of the army. He had allowed them to determine its structure, and didn’t see any reason to intervene in the army. Still, Galamon decided the strategy, being intimately familiar with both the layout of

days. Given the coming of the Ebon Cult, he

swarm… but swarming in large numbers meant they might cause casualties. That was an untenable outcome. As such, Galamon and Anneliese opted for

land in unfavorable positions. Argrave assigned Melanie as their leader. Perhaps their inaction in electing a new leader had been a boon, as it allowed him to choose one for them. It was couched as temporary, but in time as they

well. There, the army assumed the burden of slaughter. Arrows, spears, swords—if the Guardians came through narrow entries, where their opportunity to

army

with. They were soldiers—professional soldiers, in a time where there were either highly-skilled knights or unskilled levies with little in between. By this time, they’d already grown used to the foul

at first, mostly saying the same thing in different ways—inconclusive. Whole hours of uncertainty passed. Argrave wished for nothing more than to get his hands dirty and make a change in the battle, but all the counsel he received advised against that. Yet then… reports became faster, and the

Guardians. Letter after letter became positive where they had been negligible, all of it reminded Argrave that this fight wasn’t his alone.

between Orion and him. He asked at once,

to enter,” Anneliese

he chuckled quietly.

brashness, no misbehaving… but perhaps you ought to see for yourself. I

#####

his all into moving it. It stood perhaps thirty feet tall, but he moved

to Castro. “Forget the headquarters we just walked through—there’s this place. An underground training area. It’s every bit as advanced as

the one that blocked them out of the library. S-rank spellcasters could fight here, surely. Enchantments kept it lit like a

just want free security for this place, I think,” Castro noted shrewdly. “And nothing would be better than moving some Magisters into

about the place. “You’ve got me there. But am I wrong? Nodremaid, this place… we can revive it, without all the weird twisted undead. A city of both Vasquer and

the mindless fiends, and marked a stark victory. In another few days,

Argrave would meet the

Ebon Cult?”

to be honest. “At present… they’re more advanced than us. They have salvaged dwarven weaponry. It’s not as potent as freshly-forged stuff, but it can cleave through steel when given average strength. And

got plenty of spellcasters,” Argrave continued as he paced around. “They’ve been using leftover dwarven contraptions to collect spirits. Meaning, they already have shamanic magic.” Argrave sighed. “It’s bleak. It’s very bleak. I won’t begin

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