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.

air-filtering mask. She seemed serene,

yet paused for a long

I was here, I wasn’t king,” Argrave

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

things won’t be that simple. Elsewise, this problem of ours would’ve been solved long ago by people smarter

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 of that contract to the Alchemist. That… that being frightens me, doubly so when I know he has Durran in

neck, now empty. “He gave me the key to his existence. Let’s not forget that

ahead of ourself.” She shook her head. “I’m sorry. I’m being crass. It’s just… when my connection with

her hair. He was discovering he enjoyed ruining people’s hair, for some reason. “I know. I heard the panic in

face. But I’m not totally sure about how this all ends. He snuck past countless of my troops while using a

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

might make requests of us.

maneuver, Elenore gave him an affectionate hug. “Take care. I’ll ensure things run smoothly here.

was changing. He headed off, prepared to cast [Worldstrider] to return to Blackgard, but a voice entered his ears. It felt like a

took a lot of time to find you. Spare me some words, little king, while you’re

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

thought you’d be bewildered and lost when I ran off so suddenly. But you’ve been busy preparing, I can see

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 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 seemed, was this man. It filled him with dread and fury that Sataistador could show up here, in the heart of Berendar, without a hint getting out to anyone else. He was glad they had remained cordial, if only to spare

about this situation, but he was certain he could hold off

thought you were giving me lip-service. But you’ve built that naval

in detail,” Argrave said. “I wish you would’ve given me

Navy of the Great Chu