Jackal Among Snakes

Argrave looked out across the verdant hills just beyond the hills of the Vysenn. It had been some time since he’d seen this place. He had passed through this area after returning from his ‘diplomatic mission’ to the northern part of Vasquer. Back then, he’d been forced to do battle with the people taking residence there because one of their many tribes had invaded at the behest of Georgina.

Now, Argrave looked down at the brunette woman who’d caused all of that trouble. She was chained to a metal stake just before him. Initially he thought that she had done her duties in service of King Felipe, but in truth, she likely hoped to bring his deceased father to Mozzahr, Castellan of the Empty. After their successful subjugation of the cult, Georgina been captured and put under Elenore’s… ‘care.’ She only dodged execution by virtue of being a protagonist of Heroes of Berendar. More specifically, she dodged execution for a day like this one, where she could be useful.

Now, that ‘protagonist’ wore a drab burlap robe no more glamorous than what a beggar might wear, and judging by her gaunt face seemed to have suffered some malnourishment in the dungeon. She had always been a classic beauty, yet time under duress had muted that a great deal. Her hands were chained behind her back, and her palms had been nailed together to prevent her from casting magic.

Argrave knelt down before her and looked back to Anneliese. She gave a him a nod, indicating she was watching and judging all of Georgina’s answers. Argrave looked back at her. She had been very quiet since he’d arrived.

“My sister tells me that you claim to still have some ties to the people in Vysenn,” Argrave began without cordiality. Her actions had caused much death, and he had no desire to be gentle with her. “But the tribe that you sent out to attack us was killed, almost to the last. And I’m questioning her insight because of that. Now—and answer honestly, or this will be the last time that you can see grass—can you talk to some people within Vysenn? Does your word have enough weight to convince them to migrate?”

Georgina bit at her lips. Judging from the blood and the scarring on them, this wasn’t a new thing. When she first opened her mouth to speak, empty air came out as her voice failed her. She swallowed to get it back and then managed hoarsely, “Maybe.”

Argrave stood and repeated disdainfully, “Maybe. That’s your answer?”

Despite freedom dangling before her eyes and the pain undoubtedly wracking her stabbed hands, Georgina maintained her calm and chose her words carefully. It was both somewhat admirable and worrying, by Argrave’s estimation.

“While it’s true that the tribe I associated strongest with was wiped out, I had others that I maintained ties with. Reserves. I couldn’t move freely through their lands without other ties in other tribes. But it’s been a while since I’ve been here. I can’t say how dependable time will have been on those friendships. So, the best I can say is maybe.”

It was a reasonable thing to say, and something that Argrave had been thinking himself. If the Alchemist inside the Ravenstone around Argrave’s neck wasn’t pressuring him to act quickly, he might’ve never considered Georgina as an option. But the dwarven volunteers would be coming quickly, and they would need to prepare Vysenn for use before then.

“Why did you betray your country for the Ebon Cult?” Argrave asked.

She looked up at him with her soft brown eyes, yet there was still some fire within them. “Because my country was torn apart by a civil war with no good outcome, and judgment was coming.” She stewed on her words, then amended, “At least, I thought there would be no good outcome. Mozzahr and his cult were many things, but fractured they were not. Between destroying all or surrendering my homeland to a despot, I thought the latter was better.”

“You certainly came up with

staring at iron bars

criminal, but he still didn’t truly have the heart for it. He paced around the

Argrave told her. “We need the tribes of Vysenn to vacate their holy temple for some months. No interference, no protests—nothing. We intend to leave them

hearing the potential of freedom, he could see Georgina’s gaunt face gain some of its vigor back. She nodded. “I won’t let you down, Your Majesty. I have nothing to return to, no cause to fight for—I just want

shard that looked like obsidian. “This is Ebonice. It hampers magic up to B-rank—in other words, it’ll render you magically impotent. I can’t very well have you appear before the tribes chained, with nails through your palms. But you will stab this into yourself, hiding it completely. Then,

as

her hands, pulling the iron nails out one by one. When it was done, she stared at

to be safe,” Argrave

royal guards took up the rest of the process. In the distance, a group of bone-white tribals wore clothing Vasquer and chatted in a small party. They centered around one man in particular—a tribal chieftain once known as the Snowrock. Now, he was just Snowrock, former

to their people remained strong. He and Anneliese walked past

mage of Veiden, sat on a stool reading. He looked up when

student?” He focused his white eyes on Argrave. “Becoming S-rank takes time. She needs to

yours,” Argrave nodded, walking in. “Are you up for the task

not scoff, nor leer, nor even grow indignant, surprising Argrave. “I’ve been preparing her lessons for some

and then left her there. She would be receiving daily lessons from Rowe the Righteous henceforth, pushing her toward S-rank. And come tomorrow, they would attempt

#####

unemptied. He was not fond of leaving meals behind like this. He had risen from the squalor of the fields to the grandeur of emperor, and so knew well what it was to starve. But these days, no food held any taste for him. None of

door, Ji Meng saw a figure kneel just beyond. He

from the lands beyond the southern ocean,” Eunuch Hao

permit it,”

rose and walked forward with his head bowed politely. None save his concubines could look him in the eye, by tradition. The emperor stared with some distaste as the eunuch neared. The man looked subtly different—fatter, perhaps. He didn’t like their kind. ‘Men without ambition,’ eunuchs were called, yet the past year as their power in the palace waxed,

of divine origin,