Jackal Among Snakes

Argrave, Anneliese, and Melanie spent some time lingering exactly near where Therapont had suggested they avoid. The place was as the senator had described—namely, an abandoned construction site. It was something of the darker side of this society that seemed so idyllic. Where once before their society had seemed nearly without flaw, they saw something abandoned, falling apart, and sectioned off. And rather than merely neglected, it was completely abandoned. That illustrated the dwarven tendency toward perfection. Either they did it all the way, or not at all. And in this case, they chose not at all.

Guards issued by the senators were constantly shadowing them, and so it was impossible to approach the people that were squatting in the abandoned sector. They didn’t seem to be especially numerous, but in a society so free of conflict, he’d little doubt that this was a hot-button issue for their people. As much was proven when they asked their guards about the squatters.

“It’s a disaster built by journeymen,” one of the guards said. “It’s better off abandoned.”

Some of the others present bristled at this answer, but Anneliese asked, “Journeymen?”

Argrave was going to explain, but he was beaten by the others present. “Journeymen are those in the crafter’s guilds that’ve completed an apprenticeship, but have not yet been declared a master,” the dwarf explained. “Those out there in the abandoned section are all journeymen, mostly. A fair few years ago, they received approval from the senate to build the next section of the city. The plans were drafted, everything was up to code, and the project was very nearly done. Then, the masters of the guilds had their construction permits and materials revoked after invoking an old privilege they possess before senate.”

A dwarf pointed to the squatter encampment. “Right. Those out there—protestors. The senate had no right to restrict permits. Now, it stands to reason it’ll be years before that section of Mundi is complete. All because the masters couldn’t bear to have their work ‘stolen,’ when they’re the one’s been dragging their feet.”

“How do you mean?” Anneliese kept up her inquiries. “Where is the conflict?”

Argrave expected some reluctance to explain, but it was clear these people weren’t used to be secretive about their politics. “There’s a large glut of journeyman dwarves in the guilds. Most of them are every bit as skilled, if not more so, than the masters above them. But the masters retain certain privileges—among those privileges is the right to anoint new masters. It’s done by popular vote from the current masters—and the current masters aren’t making many new masters. The last thing the majority of them wish to do is create competition for themselves. Generally, only relatives of current masters are getting through. It’s an antiquated, nepotistic system that needs to go.”

Another nodded. “Either journeymen enter into shite contracts for years to become a master, or they stay journeymen. Masters of the guild have a stranglehold on the entire economy—nay, the entire senate.”

“Let’s not be alarmists,” the other dwarves cautioned. “The last thing we’d want is for every single journeyman to be allowed to become a master. The consequences that might have could be devastating.

she’s supposedly graduated from. Time was, they promoted merit. Now, they’ve got a grip on money tighter

another—one glance alone was enough for both to recognize that the other was thinking the same thing. This was their lead. This was the way to leverage an active political notion to jumpstart their own needs. It seemed as though everyone agreed

was clear, composed, and calm. Even

“Argrave, Durran is gone.”

knew why that was the case. He immediately

I received were that he’d encountered Dario, and now

the group. He put one hand up against a wall and leaned against it. Melanie asked him if he was sick, but he didn’t answer. “We don’t know what happened yet. Until we do, let’s assume

that can affect magic and blessings,” she replied shakily, then went silent. “If he’s

got divine armaments, he’s an S-rank spellcaster thanks to the Alchemist, and he’s been fighting gods for the better part of a year. You need to contact Lira, your patron goddess. She’ll have to know better

hear her taking a deep breath. “I need to focus on coordination. I’ll…” she stopped speaking. “Durran said Dario was

He stepped away from the wall, refocused. Melanie and Anneliese both looked at him expectantly.

found someone we know,” Argrave said grimly. “And he’s cut off from

#####

been half right. It had been

outward from their joints. These golden automatons walked to gleaming him like angelic guardians,

normal behavior. Whatever Dario had summoned forth to possess these

stop Dario from getting what he needed, Durran rushed forth madly. The closest golem lashed out with a deadly kick. Durran went low and caught the golem’s heel with his left hand, pulling it forth with the full strength of the divine armaments empowering him. He cleaved the divine blade through the joint near its hip, and it collapsed with a leg severed. As it lay there, his sword pierced straight through the golden armor on its torso right

–bent beneath the golem’s punches like soft metal, and finally fractured while scattering oddly morphed magic. It gave Durran time enough to get away… but he’d never been one to retreat. He rushed at one, jumped upward as it bent