Jackal Among Snakes

“People of Blackgard,” Argrave called out, his voice amplified by wind magic.

He stood on a raised platform in a gathering square that had been constructed in the center of the city, and the place was more than large enough host the gigantic population of the city that grew around them. A servant of Elenore’s had been using this to promulgate the results of the parliament, but now it served to project his voice. And the people—his people, he reflected—gathered to hear him speak.

“All of you came to this city at the urging of the crown. You have helped bring this place from an empty vale to a home that I look upon with pride,” Argrave continued, putting his fist against his heart. “I thank you for that. But behind the shelter of these mountains and the fortresses guarding the passes, I have not forgotten what spurred the necessity of this city. Evil powers beyond comprehension stir, and I vowed to protect the people from all dangers, be they divine or mortal.

“The King of the Scorched Sands came to the walls of House Parbon, speaking in a foreign tongue that knew only fire and destruction,” Argrave walked around the stage, eyes wandering from various people. “Yet I spoke their language, and with that fire, forged an alliance between Vasquer and the Burnt Desert that now rises like a phoenix! And why? Because I would not have you, the people whom I pledged to protect, shed their blood for me without seeking every alternative!”

Some people cheered at this, and though Argrave was working himself up just fine, he got further swept along with their zeal. A speech he’d practiced more times than he cared to admit became fueled by his more… performative side.

“It has become clear to me that the malignant rot causing the undead to raze your homes is not something that can be reasoned with,” Argrave continued, raising his finger up. “It brought forth the umbral creature in Dirracha, seeking to uproot our Kingdom of Vasquer. It brought forth the abomination that would enslave the elves of the Bloodwoods, and turn them into our enemy. And it continues to scheme,” He clenched his hand into a tight fist. “All of you, from Birall to Quadreign, came here to Blackgard, seeking shelter from the long night we all know is coming.”

Argrave let silence speak for him in the moments after that declaration.

“I will guard you now as I will always guard you,” Argrave continued after his dramatic pause. “I will be the dam against the flood, the shield against the sword, and the castle against the army.” He threw out his arm. “But this is not a problem that Vasquer alone faces. In the times that come, even the heavens shall be brought to endure. As they do in the Bloodwoods, gods will walk the earth. They must confront the darkness the same as us.

“You know the gods,” Argrave continued, his gaze sweeping the courtyard. “Some are cruel. Some are just. Some trifle themselves not with the affairs of mortal. But I was not content to allow them to descend, and declare their governance one-sidedly,” he pointed to the sky. “I will not compromise on the pledge that I made. And to that end, I have forged an alliance with deities.”

He saw the creeping uneasiness settle into the crowd like an invisible fog.

“The Kingdom of Vasquer is strong. That strength—our strength—gave us the luxury of choice. And so, people of Vasquer… I chose to seek the help of the gods that would ask for nothing more than a chance. They come to us in peace, seeking harmony and cooperation. They will protect us from the enemy that threatens the peace of our kingdom, and in so doing, be protected themselves.

“You will come to know our allies in time,” Argrave continued, walking to the edge of the stage. “But I intend to introduce one, now.” He raised his hand, and his eyes briefly glowed yellow before projecting a symbol—a scale, the insignia of Law. Then, a great golden light exploded outward, permeating the whole of this newly built city and rushing across the black mountains surrounding it as though a dam had burst.

As people watched in awe and a certain amount of trepidation, Argrave reflected. Law had given Argrave two blessings.

would speak something that he wished to be true: for example, if he said, “By Law, all within this domain moves slower through time than that without,” then it would be so. The strength

can’t cast magic in this domain,’ while it likely didn’t have the strength to do that to the letter, it would have strength enough to make all magic cast within far weaker. Argrave could essentially add a condition to an area. Despite its limitations the Domain of Law still had boundless potential, and this power in particular was precisely what made the deity known only as Law so terrifying. Heroes of Berendar had limited it to six variants… but now, Argrave had no such restraints, and eagerly

absolute order to an area if the populace believed him to be its rightful governor. If the people welcomed his rule, the Domain of Order would apply the laws of the land impartially, defending people from crime. The Domain of Order would attempt to stop things like theft, murder, and other such crimes. It could also enforce any other laws that

and unjust, then it could be the instrument behind extreme cruelty. If a law was just and righteous, it could be the engine that drove a nation to great prosperity. But at the end of the day, it was a tool constructed by the minds of men. Though people might provide a law tremendous power, it ultimately relied upon one’s will to enact said law, or the

city as much as he desired. And everywhere else, his companions would

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soared through the skies aback his gray wyvern, feeling the bite of the wind at his cheek. Ahead of him, Stout Heart Swan’s spectral hounds ran through the cloudy skies, and moments behind in hot pursuit Durran and his horde of wyvern riders cut through the clouds. Onychinusa’s array of shamanic magic had spotted a god. When they’d arrived to the spot, the god had gone—but with Stout Heart Swan’s blessing, he tracked

yet?” Elenore’s voice manifested in his head, crystal clear. She was

his mind—a jarring experience, but he’d adapted. There had been a surprising lack of miscommunications, as the blessing was quite intuitive to use. “The hounds are still leading—” Durran cut off as he spotted something

Argrave, ask

tall,” he said. “Got red skin, a boar’s head, and great plumes of fire burning on its body… kind of

she spoke to the other person. “It can use fire, but its attacks shouldn’t be any more powerful than your average A-rank spell. Oh—it’s also pretty strong physically. A little stronger than Orion, apparently. Attack from the

I love fighting

butter.” Elenore’s voice stopped for a

“No, I think I’ve got

I tested giving Argrave a dagger—it takes a lot out of

will?” Durran repeated. “What if we

rely upon our will. It can strengthen over time, or through experiences, but it’s the limiting factor to many blessings. We draw upon a power beyond

said nervously, picturing himself falling through the sky, unable to use

simply. And just as he felt her presence moments before, it was gone. From

his glaive, hefting it in his hand. “Alright, boys!” he shouted—not in

know,” one of

holding the dwarven contraptions get the privilege of harvesting the spirits after that bastard down there dies,” Durran pointed, feeling the weight of his glaive push against his arm pleasantly. “And

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