Jackal Among Snakes

Argrave had prepared many contingencies for engaging with the tribes of Vysenn. He’d been spending time in the dwarven nation, where the threat of force was about as substantial as cotton candy. But he seemed to have forgotten the fact that on the surface in Berendar, he held many big sticks, and with a few artful applications of soft words to the people that Georgina and Snowrock introduced him to, the tribes ‘agreed’ to leave. The alternative, in their mind, was a very brutal invasion that Argrave had already amply proven he could carry out. If only they knew how big of a softie he was…

With the bulk of the tribes temporarily treated to Vasquer hospitality, he and the Alchemist entered into the holy temple of the tribes of Vysenn and their tephramancers. The Alchemist carried his staff of obsidian and walked forth with a vigor rather unlike his emotionless self. The hallway of black basalt grew hotter as they advanced to the pit in which magma bubbled miles below. The intense heat was a recent phenomenon by some accounts. It was a sign their time to act on the knowledge they’d gained was nearing its end.

Once inside, Argrave looked in the circular pit in the center of the room. He was probably looking for the same thing that the Alchemist was—evidence of Sandelabara. Could this be the same pit that Sataistador, god of war, had claimed was within Sandelabara, or was this some new occurrence of Gerechtigkeit’s design to obscure details about the place? It didn’t look manmade, and decades of occupation by the tribes surely meant that no evidence of other civilization might exist. But by all accounts, this was where they needed to go.

“I will reestablish my abode here,” declared the Alchemist, jamming his staff into the ground. “And meanwhile, clear some area for the dwarves to begin their work.”

“Alright. Excellent. This place is going to be my base for some time, too, but I hope you can forgive me if I don’t want to spend my time in here.”

“The envoys of gods wish to meet you,” the Alchemist noted. “They were delayed by our foray into the dwarven nation, but now their patience nears its limits. You should not meet them here. We cannot allow them any hint of what we hope to achieve, lest they attach themselves like parasites.”

“A fair point,” Argrave conceded. “Well… good luck. If you find something, speak to Galamon if I’m absent. He’ll be hanging out near here, keeping an eye on everything.”

The Alchemist said nothing more, and Argrave departed as he began to work his staff into a home.

After passing through the long hallway leading to the volcanic temple, Galamon stood waiting at the entrance. He removed his helmet, letting his white hair flow as he walked up to Argrave to report. He dipped his head and said, “I have two thousand men keeping an eye on the tribes of Vysenn, Your Majesty. They’re sticking to the designated area and causing no problems. If they do cause problems…” he asked an unspoken question.

“Don’t turn it into a massacre. We have the weapons of the divine, now—there’s no reason we can’t subdue them.” He tapped Galamon’s pauldron. “Elenore’s going to treat them very well while we do some… some home renovations for them. Apparently, they performed very admirably in the army. She’d like some more of them to come to our kingdom.”

“As would I,” agreed Galamon. “Then, I have nothing else, Your Majesty.”

Argrave patted him on the shoulder and said a word of thanks, then departed deeper into the volcanic valley. He pulled free an old tool he hadn’t used in some time—a white Humorless Mask, producing clean air for him to breathe through this volcanic gas leaking everywhere. After a long and solitary trek through familiar territory, he arrived back out into a verdant valley just as the edge of the volcano. His sister stood there, staring out across the horizon with a retinue of Veidimen royal guards.

mask. She

yet paused for a long while. “I

I was here, I wasn’t king,” Argrave

hadn’t taken Dirracha,” she said to remind him, then shook her head as though to dispel the memories.

simple. Elsewise, this problem of ours would’ve been solved long ago by

to conceal this place,” Elenore pointed out. “For Durran’s sake—no, that’s not honest. For both our sakes, I hope the secret is here, and he can be freed

gave me the key to his existence. Let’s not forget that little

believed him?” Elenore looked at Argrave somewhat disdainfully. “If he can talk to you and hear all that occurs while being inside it, who knows what else he can do within that stone. Let’s not get ahead of ourself.” She shook her

know. I heard the panic in your voice when that happened. But he’s

should ever show his face. But I’m not totally sure about how this all ends. He snuck past countless of my troops while using a golem.” Elenore’s voice grew straight and hard as her sentimentality faded. “But I’m lecturing you on

you up to speed. I’m going to be coordinating the work with the dwarves. You, meanwhile, are going to be facilitating the divine members of the Blackgard Union and their arrival into this territory.” She focused on him. “We’ve benefitted immensely from having them as allies. But alliances are two-way streets, as you’ll soon realize. Hause is keeping them at her temple, but you’re still expected. And

might make requests of us. But in truth, they’ve come at rather perfect times. If Dario does raise

him an affectionate hug. “Take care. I’ll ensure things run smoothly here. We’re so

proud of how she was changing. He headed off, prepared to cast [Worldstrider] to return to Blackgard, but

find you. Spare me some words, little

looked around in paranoia, but he had a distinct impression on where the voice came from, and who. With slow and steady steps, he walked toward it. When he passed over a hill, he saw a red-headed giant leaning up against an alcove in the rocks: Sataistador, god of war. With a huge mane of red hair, a long beard, and a giant stature, it was some surprise he could conceal himself so ably. But he did. And his mad green eyes

and lost when I ran off so suddenly. But you’ve been busy preparing,

confronted by the god of war, chaos, and ruthless destruction. It made him feel sick to know this bastard had come so close to Elenore without her being aware. Perhaps that had

When he left, Sataistador promised they would meet again to coordinate. Argrave had expected it to be on his own terms, with his own people nearby. Now, everyone was spread thin, dealing with half a thousand threats. And his threat, it

but he was certain he could hold off this man enough to allow everyone, including himself, to

“I was somewhat skeptical about our plan to counter-invade the Chu. Frankly, I thought you were giving me lip-service. But

met, you’d discuss your plans in detail,” Argrave said. “I wish you would’ve given me

face grew serious. “The Imperial Navy of the Great Chu is on its