Jackal Among Snakes

Mial, High Priestess of the Ebon Cult, stepped away from her position beside the other four top people at the Ebon Cult and went to kneel beside her father’s palanquin. She pulled back the curtain on the side, out of view from their front-facing position, and then listened to orders relayed—orders that reached no one’s ears beside Mial, not even Orion’s or the Alchemist’s.

As they talked, Argrave looked around at the horde of purple-masked people around them. He spotted elven ears, dwarven physiques… even some of the more reclusive races persisted in their number—southron elves or the subterranean humans, for instance. The majority of them were combatants.

Elenore’s voice entered his mind, telling him, “Anneliese says that there are users of shamanic magic in the crowd. Mozzahr himself seems to have the most spirits, however.”

Argrave gave a curt reply, too on-edge to engage further. Finally, Mial looked at them, clearing her throat to indicate her intent to speak.

“The Castellan asks if you have ever wondered what occurs in the event Gerechtigkeit succeeds,” Mial said, her voice ringing out with a clear echo in this vast cavern.

Argrave narrowed his eyes. Mozzahr had spoken through another like this in the past, but that had been because he was injured. His injury was obvious in Heroes of Berendar, visible even in the silhouette behind the curtain. Argrave could see no such injury. Mozzahr had not fought Sataistador, and consequently sustained no injuries. In simple terms there was no good reason for him to speak via proxy. No reason except haughtiness.

Argrave looked at Durran and briefly questioned speaking through him just as Mozzahr did his daughter, but thought it might be tedious and abandoned the idea at once. Besides, rising to provocation would close off their options.

“Well, I imagine the cycle of judgment ends. And I came here to discuss that ending, if on a different possible manner than seeing it through to completion,” Argrave opened diplomatically.

“Gerechtigkeit is described as two things; as a man, and as a calamity. But there is truth in both,” Mial carried on as though Argrave had not even spoken. “He is an intelligent being, capable of reason. And just as Mozzahr commands the Emptiness, Gerechtigkeit commands his calamity. It is formless malignance, capable of adapting to whatever its owner needs to fill his purpose.”

“You speak from ignorance.” The Alchemist stepped forward, his footfalls heavy enough to shake the square. “There is no reason in Gerechtigkeit.”

“Then how, pray tell, did he know to corrupt Argrave’s father? How have his methods continued to adapt, and to grow, if he cannot reason?” Mial flattened out a crease on her robes as she kneeled there.

“The contention is that he cannot be reasoned with,” Anneliese smoothly interjected. “And that is indisputable.”

“Fair enough. Let us not get lost in semantics.” Mial raised her hands in surrender.

Argrave thought she was going to speak again, and so quickly interjected, “Speaking of my father and his corruption—that was the reason Georgina was trying to kidnap him, right?” He raised his finger and pointed. “Well, we started the job that you wanted. And finished it, too. And I think that’s because we’re on the same path. Namely, you’re not content to let this cycle go another cycle.”

Mial consulted with her father once more. She looked back

Felipe died—Georgina was

Alchemist cut in. “And it decays what it touches rapidly, doubly so by resistance by the host.” Hearing that last line, Orion’s helmet briefly turned

fair deal from Felipe’s corpse.” Argrave held his arms out and stepped forward. “But you’ve been

trust the man’s capabilities. If he had learned something,

to find, and even more difficult to ensure accuracy. History is written by the victors, after all. But we are

had been quite busy,

of Argrave’s surprise. “The first one is certain: upon his defeat in

quote well. “I

not quite so accurate as words heard around the world… but they speak of his claims about ‘time and other thieves.’ The third is only one word—a name, truly. Sandelabara, or by some accounts, Candelabara or

that. But lore, all of that—that isn’t what I need. We have fundamental information—we have a complete analysis of Gerechtigkeit’s corrupting

Argrave saw him wave his hand in affirmation before the High Priestess looked back,

some insight on where Gerechtigkeit comes from,” Mial

That sort of information, if genuine, would be an invaluable

tell us?” Anneliese pushed calmly, keeping her head while Argrave nearly

be sure she did not err by telling so much. “This is

apologize for caution, but he elected to sidestep that issue altogether. “Where do you

he thought of whether or not he might’ve disclosed that publicly enough for these people to know. As it did, she continued, “Specifically, in a plain

certain he had told perhaps three people this fact—Elenore, Anneliese, and the Alchemist. None would’ve leaked it. This information

posited, holding his arms out. “We

a point. Mozzahr, the Castellan

pointed a finger, saying quickly, “That’s all well and good,

be traded for,” Mial interrupted him loudly. “If you are reasonable, and you seek to minimize loss of life, then you will aid Mozzahr at your own free will. You and all of yours will be welcomed. They will not be harmed or face any imposition so long as they accept the Castellan of the Empty as their god, and endeavor to

the teal mass of Emptiness spiraling above, but it stayed still even despite Mial’s coercion. Though things were tense, until that power came to action there was not as much risk as there

working underneath him, and then subtly plot with Elenore to break the chains that bind. But even still, they’d have to permit the Ebon Cult to come to the surface, and allow them unabated influence over the surface. On top of that, when it came time to break away, it wouldn’t