Jackal Among Snakes

When Argrave and Anneliese emerged from the Alchemist's fortress of obsidian, their party stepped forward eagerly to receive them. They had all seen the strange chimera named Pawn imitating Argrave, and now concern drove them in greeting. Their eagerness was abated by the looming giant that followed them. As the Alchemist exited, the vast black doors closed shut, pulled closed by an unseen force.

When finally the two groups met, Argrave looked between everyone awkwardly. He patted the side of his legs and declared, "We've come to an accommodation."

"And what is the cost?" Castro questioned, supporting Ingo on his right. The blue-haired man stared up at Argrave from his stupor, appearing able to think clearer than most times at present.

Argrave looked down to the old tower master. “I think you’ll be rather pleased. The Alchemist has agreed to extract Ingo’s blessing, asking for nothing more than the privilege of performing process itself and the waste from its results.” He glanced back at the giant behind, its pale hands held neatly before it. “You’ll need to ask more specific details from him.”

“No…!” Ingo said, attempting to shout but lacking the strength. He pushed off from Castro and lurched forward. Castro tried to stop him, but managed only to make Ingo kneel instead of faceplant. “I told you that my eyes are needed. Take them as you claimed eyes here before, and evolve once again,” he pleaded. “You’ll die. We’ll all die.”

“Being able to use your body until its death is not a satisfying enough trade when the blessing might be mine,” the Alchemist said. “I have plans for it.”

“Ingo, what…?” Castro looked bewildered, eyes darting from all who had spoken.

“Ingo wanted me to offer his life to the Alchemist so that I might get his blessing for myself—well, an improved version, at least.” Argrave knelt down before the collapsed Ingo. “But you heard the Alchemist. He doesn’t need or want your life for this. And the fact that you didn’t know that, Ingo, shows the limit of your ability. If the god who gave it to you cannot end the cycle of judgment, what hope have I? No… I have another route. My own. The only one that suits me.”

“But the shadow… the shadow grows so tall. And you’ve burned alone so long,” Ingo said, eyes bloodshot.

“This is no way forward.” Argrave rose to his feet. “I never thought this would be easy. But historically, I’ve never really fought someone on an equal level to me, so I’m well used to tall shadows and things beyond my ken. Let me worry about Mozzahr, and banish these ideas about sacrifice.” He looked at Castro. “The Alchemist will cure your apprentice, and he’ll live. Rest assured.”

Castro looked like many things—indignant he was lied to, grateful Argrave had refused Ingo, and confused about the future. But the man was a leader through and through, and so nodded, accepting the situation calmly and choosing the best option. Argrave glanced back, nodding at the titan who’d become his ally.

The Alchemist looked down on Castro as though the S-rank spellcaster was as insignificant as an ant and said, “Bring him. Do not speak or act against me. I have promised no harm will come to Argrave’s allies, so long as they do not push their boundary.”

“Listen to him. No matter what,

avoided stepping on toes for a long, long

goes my way.” Argrave shook his head. “I’ll be returning to Vasquer. The

will you be

spared a glance

#####

abode. The stage was amply set. All that remained relied on the Alchemist’s ability. Gaining Ingo’s blessing was not something that suited him—Erlebnis’ alone was more than

Orion pressed, eager and ready

he looked upon his golden-armored brother, who served as his royal guard. The idea of mentioning what he was about to mention to Orion, of all people, was an idea that never would have crossed his mind at almost any point. But Orion had changed significantly—his anger was curbed, his zeal was diminished—or redirected, at least, to Vasquer

that buried Felipe after he died,” Argrave began hesitantly, stepping

helmet. He took it off, struggling briefly to disentangle his long braid of black hair and bushy

that cooled things between Elenore and I.” He looked off to the side. “Even though you hate him… and Elenore, far more justly so… he is still my father. He deserved a burial, not to

asked hopefully, “Was it in

together, at a spot intimately familiar to the family. Back when… back when things were not broken.” He fixed Argrave with his steady gaze. “But why do you speak of burials? What happened in there? Is

to conjure words. He dared to say plainly and straightly, “I

#####

She looked at the messenger that had come in, and then

given, Elenore leaned back into the wooden chair. The Margrave of Parbon seemed to frown at the use of comfortable furniture, and after riding a beast like a wyvern her body protested

her strict affect and began, “You

that city, just waiting, like little beacons calling out to us. I never saw

Then, she leaned

I told you—messages,” she explained, then