Jackal Among Snakes

Argrave departed from Veiden, leaving Galamon behind to serve as intermediary when Dras and his council came to a decision about their request for naval support. Anneliese was still uneased, convinced she'd missed something about the scenario. Argrave didn't doubt her, but he also felt that the Veidimen were staunch allies that would not do their nation any harm. Veid herself was part of the Blackgard Union.

And on the matter of that union, they once again put together a collection of envoys that represented each god or goddess that had agreed to the defensive pact. They were a formidable group, but Argrave was receiving some disturbing reports from Elenore.

“They’re really quite undignified.” Elenore walked alongside through the gardens of the parliamentary hall, the rest of their group following shortly behind. “They’ve been behaving in such a way as though to overcompensate for the words that Anneliese gave them last time.”

“A negotiating tactic. I think I know who it is.” He kept a firm eye on the distant door where Elenore said the dwarves were staying. “But they’re also right to be confident. The dwarves have remained untouched underground for so long for good reason. They have a defensive system that most gods could not hope to penetrate. It’s why Mozzahr did not try and make converts of the dwarves. If he had been able to do that, I suspect we’d all be damned.”

Elenore looked somewhat surprised at the unrestrained praise, but she did not have time to press overmuch before Argrave walked up to the double doors leading to the dwarves’ chamber. He pushed them open, and from the sheer mess of the place, he could tell what Elenore meant by ‘undignified.’ Food had been brought to these envoys—food which messily sprawled about everywhere as though it were an unruly child’s playroom.

The dwarves in the room were twins. There were some differences between the two, but they were small enough they might as well be identical. Argrave knew them well—Kostis and Trifon. They were the among the most trusted members of the senate, largely because they possessed a large talent for one thing in particular: hostile negotiations. Extortion, provocation, and no fear of death—these were their talents. It said a lot about the dwarven senate’s intent, but also sparked confusion.

“Ahhh…” Kostis rose up off his chair, planting his small feet firmly on the ground. He was as brawny as his brother, but had a prominent mole on his clean-shaven face where a scar closely overlapped—Argrave knew he’d tried to cut the mole off when he was younger. He wiped his white toga down, clearing crumbs away. “The servants have returned. The food was inadequate, and I expect you will bring us better cuisine.”

“And drink. Don’t forget the drink. Better yet, bring us materials to make our own drink—it’s clear you inferiors have no clue how to brew properly.” Trifon’s voice was deeper, and he possessed more dignity than his oafish brother.

Argrave stepped inside the room, holding both of his arms wide like greeting old friends. “If it isn’t the most brothel-y pair of brothers I know!” He kicked a loaf of bread on the floor at them, and it slid until it hit one’s boot. “Ah, did I say brothel-y? I meant brotherly. Though considering how much time you two spend at brothels, you can forgive the mistake.”

These brothers were well known for having an answer out of their mouth to any insult in seconds, so Argrave savored the taste of outdoing these two bastards. They might’ve handled such an insult from their own kin, but they must’ve known he was the king, and they would never expect him to know even the lowliest gossip in the dwarven senate.

did not come here to cooperate. That was a baffling outcome, considering that Anneliese had sent forged dwarven metals back with them. Their people very desperately needed the capability to forge dwarven metal—that need was growing more urgent by

their step so as not to crush the scattered food. “You speak to King Argrave, master of all Vasquer. As envoys,

nodded knowingly, then looked to

spews fecal liquid from his lips where there should instead be saliva. Should you tell shit-lips the message, or

and convey the message, brother,” Trifon bowed low, then reminded his brother, “But I am owed much upon our return. Ahem.” The

their antics, waiting and watching. That they had sent gold-wreathed envoys

our hand to you in friendship, but this gesture of pity has been presumed as feebleness! Such sorry suppositions are not sooth, so says I! You may tremble in rage, towering tyrant, yet our infinite pity demands we give warning.” He clenched his fist. “If you should send armies against us, know this; you shall be consumed in the fires of the

not fire, brother,” Kostis chided

to proceeding deeper into the planet to your weapon. You command the molten rock of the underground. Even gods have a spot of trouble with magma.” Argrave stepped away. “They protect you from all manner of monsters, divine or otherwise. I don’t doubt that any invaders I might send

repaired, you could lose entire cities to the molten rock.” He

repairing the dwarven city was how the player was granted access to the dwarven city as a non-dwarf in Heroes of Berendar.

Argrave kept a cool face, but his Brumesingers poked their heads out and growled, betraying some of his annoyance. He was well prepared for their behavior, but even still he’d never heard

thinks he has the upper hand in this negotiation! He thinks that we

Argrave tried to delve deeper into the why of these two. It was one thing for the Dwarven Senate to refuse his request—it was another to send two people with express instructions to be utterly insufferable. After all, if the dwarves wanted to remain neutral… there was the simpler response of saying nothing at all. Then, Argrave would be forced to come

all the methods we could ever need. Fast methods, slow methods, perfect methods, imperfect methods. Well, maybe not the last one.” Trifon waved his hand like he was dismissing a servant. “No, no. The only

grew a little white when he heard that the dwarves might already have the method. He looked at Anneliese, seeking some reprieve, but he could tell at once that she thought the dwarves were not lying. He didn’t think these provocateurs, even offensive as they were, could fool her empathy. Meaning… someone had

Argrave looked down at them, keeping calm despite the fact he felt leverage slipping away

more words to be shared. We dwarves don’t betray