Jackal Among Snakes

Though Argrave felt greatly emboldened (and somewhat psychotic) after learning that he was indeed looping through time, he wasn’t quite ready to toss his mortality to the wind quite yet in reckless pursuit of answers. On his second run through things, he checked to be sure some things were really restored. The old woman’s life, for instance—and indeed, when Argrave checked, she was alive again. Argrave could see her soul, still persisting anchored in her body.

Argrave attempted to confirm that anyone trying to speak about the prince and his name died. Nearly all citizens in the city, however, coldly rebuffed him and did not engage. They ignored him, walked past him, and one simply pushed him away. After a time, though, Argrave made headway.

“You mustn’t speak of something that Good King Norman forbade us from speaking of,” a kind market-stall owner informed him. “The curious do not last in Sandelabara.”

“But it’s just you and I,” Argrave leaned over her produce and smiled. “I just need to know some of the situation. No one will know.”

“We’re never alone,” the trader whispered. “A man like you, a foreigner, whispered to my brother, once. ‘The king will never know, he’ll never know,’” she imitated. “He’ll never know… unless you tell him. The walls have ears, and the lampposts’ eyes are all watching us.”

After giving that warning, the woman dismissed Argrave. He uneasily checked the lampposts for signs of life, but thought it a metaphor when he failed to find some. The only person that seemed willing to break this rule of silence was the old woman whose name he had not learned. Knowing her survival seemed guaranteed, he asked her the question again: what was the prince’s name? This iteration, he gave special attention to how she died. He felt rather like a hypocrite after rebuffing the Alchemist for casual murder while now doing the same thing himself. Still, he felt it necessary.

The weaving connection binding all things in this distortion to Sophia acted as the old woman’s killer. It was a wave of pure energy passing through the crimson silk-like strand of power entrapping the world. Her death was eerily quick and haunting. Argrave saw her very soul shatter within her body. He followed the attached strand for a long while afterwards, ignoring the distraught son despite the pangs of guilt he felt doing so. As long as I feel guilty, I’m still human, right? Argrave told himself this again and again as he attempted to follow the power to its source.

‘Attempt’ to follow was the operative word, because Argrave miserably failed in said attempt. The command came too fast, the weave of power was too long and entwined, and Argrave simply lacked the pure mental acuity of someone like the Alchemist. He could not divine a pattern from this network of energy—a network he, himself, was now thoroughly involved in.

As Argrave walked through the city, he overheard a conversation while hidden with [Chameleon].

“—tall, black hair, gray eyes, yessir. Really, very tall. Must’ve been up to here, sir.”

Argrave turned his head when he heard himself being described. There, one of the people he had talked to earlier spoke to an ominous-looking figure in faded red armor.

“And he was asking questions?” the knight asked. “Questions the Good King forbade?”

“Yessir, yes indeed,” the man nodded furiously. “I told him nothing. Everyone else I saw pushed him away.”

“Thank you for your time,” the knight said, then pulled out a scroll to write upon.

“Will… will the Flayer Knights come?” the man asked.

The knight looked over at the man. “Praise the Good King Norman.” It seemed a command as much as a declaration.

obsequiously and

I ever see

silo. There, he opened a well-hidden hatch and headed down inside, closing it behind him. Argrave stared at the hatch

his foot met the ground once again, he turned and watched what was ahead. It looked like a jail of some kind—perhaps oubliette was the better term, considering most of the cells looked old, forgotten, and helplessly bloody. Argrave followed distant light and

be foolish enough to send a spy with so distinct a figure,” one of the knights discussed, barely audible over the echoing whimpers of pain. Argrave could barely see the cell where they came from, but it was too

doesn’t matter. Once we catch

the same time another entered opposite him. King Norman, resplendent in his black velvet outfit, stepped down a staircase into the room. It would seem the place had more

the two knights kneeled at once in

appetite if I’m to endure the presence of that fragile thing. But what were you speaking of?” He walked closer to

we’ve decided to subdue. Extremely tall, black of hair, wearing ornate armor and a coat… we peg

power within him surge, strengthening his grip. “Even the

been a barracks, but King Norman ignored them all as he walked toward the cell in the room where the whimpering came with a smile on his face. Soon enough, all of the knights had left, and only

cell. Frankly, it was uncanny how much the two kings resembled one another, all the way down to child abuse. To that end,

story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any

“And look. You’re bleeding. Have my boys already had their fun with you? No, wait—that was from last

the wall slowly gained light. The person inside… it certainly wasn’t the king’s son. The wounds were too gruesome to properly identify things, but Argrave saw neither red eyes nor brown hair. Then again, perhaps the prince took after his mother. He’d have to wait and see.

scooting it forward as the chained prisoner shrunk away. “I could go to the clock shop, buy you some time. Another day. Another week. We’re born from our history, yet the future’s a mystery.” Argrave could see the king lick his teeth behind

the man croaked. “Good

then your soul shall grace my stroll. And though I shall again be alone, never a greater gift have I known…” the king sang as he rhymed. He had a melodious, yet terrifying, voice. He lunged forth and grabbed

Argrave watched uneasily. He’d been hoping for better information just by listening in, but it seemed that he would simply be witness to heinous acts henceforth. No—it was time to become the questioner, it would seem. Argrave positioned himself at the open cell door,

himself, and the king turned his head in some surprise at his whispered voice. Argrave’s Domain of Law took effect even here, and he faced the king squarely while watching for any movement. “Hello, King Norman. I’m King Argrave. I have a few

King Argrave? A rat who would claim the title of king?” He wiped the blood

Argrave shook his head, staying calm while remaining unblinking. “But see, I’ve some things I’m dying to know.

ignorant, or stupidly so? You must know me, know what I’ve done. The babes wept as Charles bled, yet little

So, you know that people

The king looked displeased when Argrave said that. “Who fed you such sugary piss? I suppose that’s for me to know. Well then, rat king… prepare, resist, or tear your heart out

preparing to attack. It was time to answer another pressing question—just how strong was King Norman, and what exactly was he? As

travelled faster, and things blurred as dust stirred. Argrave took a step away and cast [Chameleon]. When Argrave regained vision, he saw the king’s back against the wall. His clothes were partially destroyed where the bolts of blood magic had touched, yet Argrave could barely see any blood. The king’s hand was bleeding where he’d caught

You’re a darling, a prize to