Jackal Among Snakes

When Argrave looked upon the so-called silver-tongued priestess with the [Minor Truesight] lent by the Alchemist’s lens, pieces fit together in an instant. They were mysteries both within this small distortion, and those without it. The vague, incomprehensible experience that he had falling down into Sandelabara with the voice, the insistence of Dario and the figure behind him… and the Heralds.

The silver-tongued priestess kneeled before a triangular altar that was unadorned. It wasn’t clear what, exactly, she was praying to, if anything at all. Argrave approached her with some caution. If his screaming instincts were correct, and this woman was related to the same being behind Dario, then caution was the proper move. Magic, divinity, all of it was powerless before the power Dario had used. He only hoped that the same was not true here.

Argrave didn’t undo [Chameleon], but instead walked with the utmost quiet through the small prayer hall the woman knelt at. She wore all white and gold with a veil over her face, and clasped her hands before her in a rather traditional fashion.

“You ought to speak your prayers aloud,” Argrave said. “They might be better heard.”

The priestess turned her head, but did not scare as Argrave had expected she might. Instead, she looked about as if in wonder.

“Tell me, priestess. What might’ve possessed you to sacrifice the prince?” Argrave stepped around the room, his voice projecting throughout the stone hall rather wonderfully.

“Who speaks?” she whispered quietly. Her blues eyes wandered where he might’ve been, but found nothing to land upon.

“I believe you know the answer, if you look into your heart,” Argrave returned vaguely, weaving through the pillars of the hall.

The priestess rose to her feet and followed after his trailing voice. “You’re either a fool playing a god, or an answer come too late. What could you seek from me?”

Argrave leaned against the altar. “Was all of this for power, just like the king, or did you seek something more?”

Despite his overt questioning, she did not seem to panic or grow surprised at all. “And what is power? The king thinks it is strength—to grab and hold, to maim and make lame, as he might put it in that rapacious, rhyming tongue of his. For myself, power is faith. In people, in institutions… the things that faith can achieve could make all things pale before its light. The mayor holds high the candle of wealth, affluence, and the elder’s torch of knowledge burns ever brighter day by day. Power, all. Whoever you are, blessed lord or trickster, you don’t seem to know the half of it. And nor did I, praying before this altar, beseeching the masses ignore the insatiable appetite of the tyrant above them.”

“But now you do,” Argrave guessed, moving away as the priestess followed after him yet further. “And what, dare I ask, have you become?”

“A woman far too bored by mundane questions to suffer them much longer. If you are a god, should you not know?”

“I know, even if you don’t,” Argrave said, moving back to the door. “You… are an anchor. One of three, I should suspect.”

Argrave once again triggered [Minor Truesight], and beheld the true face of the silver-tongued priestess.

movements absolutely, yet staked into its flesh half a thousand times and concealing its true form were thick black spikes with red strands of power attached to the

scheme with the Heralds, but Argrave felt that one thing was certain. These people were a key to unravelling this vast mystery. And to discover what, Argrave cast

it was with Dario, Argrave reflected. Meaning, whatever King Norman has inside

or do something else indirect to end her, but he couldn’t tell what would happen if he did. Perhaps everyone attached would simply die. Perhaps the distortion would end, bringing Argrave’s life along with it. This was a delicate puzzle, and there were

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to locate the elder and the mayor of Sandelabara. Just as hypothesized, they, too, carried along with them a hulking figure impaled with thousands of spikes attached to people’s existence. The mayor stayed in his oceanside

them had seemed implicitly evil—he’d gotten the impression from the priestess she was disillusioned by her faith because of Good King Norman’s terrible rule. The mayor seemed simply to chafe under taxes. The elder sought vengeance for one of his kin that had been slain. One was righteous, one pragmatic, and the last vengeful. But to that end, they had sacrificed the prince in some way or another, and

narrative has been taken without

the man. Fortunately, the search party sent out to capture him meant the castle was lightly-manned, and from what Argrave

room, he took some time to study her. He estimated he’d spent two hours here during this loop, and yet all of that time, she didn’t seem to have changed in any way. Not in the physical or magical realms, either—his use

coffee table in front of it, and another couch mirroring it. It was made for guests to speak with a host. She wasn’t doing anything at all, but she seemed somewhat happy. Argrave took a seat on the couch across from her, and then dispelled [Chameleon]. He’d blocked the room with a ward beforehand in case she’d cry out or something, but Sophia merely widened her eyes and leaned

Ghost!” she called out,

be this incautious? “Good to see you again. It seems we have some time to speak more. Did you

“Thanks to Sir Ghost, nothing happened. The maid even said

He reached up and removed his monocle. “Say, princess… how would

repeated, then covered her mouth when she failed to pronounce

to try again, but Argrave smiled and continued, “Young lady, you’re too

red eyes sparkled and she rocked happily before pausing.

monocle on the table between them. “Even I’m stumped on this one. And I think that only

“Mystewy,” she corrected.

I’m a little slow.” He pointed to the monocle. “I just need to hold that up to your eye, and you tell me what

looked at the monocle. “Will it hurt? I’ve been practicing not crying,” she said proudly.

died with her promise, but he tried to stay

nodded

and kneeled down before Sophia. He held it up to

she turned her head too fast, pulling away from the lens. When she realized she had to keep looking through the lens, she lowered her

you to focus on the red strands coming from your body,” Argrave said. “Can you see them? They’re