Jackal Among Snakes

Good King Norman.

Last Argrave saw of him, Norman hadn’t face enough to be recognizable. He had made sure the man perished—crushed his skull with the most powerful spell he could muster as Traugott tried to spirit him away into the Shadowlands. Now Norman struck a rather eye-catching image, being the only one of the actors in the play largely unadorned with the makeup the other actors bore, perhaps to display that his ethnicity differed from the audience’s. He was also a fair bit taller than most, but then the people of the Great Chu seemed to be shorter on average.

What was this? A message? A setup? It simply didn’t make sense for Norman to be here, alive and well, and acting in a high-class opera in the heart of the Great Chu. Did things run deeper than he ever could have imagined—was Sataistador in cahoots with not only Governor Zen, but Traugott? The former Magister of the Order certainly fit the god of war’s criteria for an ally—he had no trouble destroying things, even entire cities, in his pursuit of his objectives.

If that was the case, several things needed to happen. Wedding be damned—they couldn’t stay here. This was dangerous. If Traugott had infiltrated this area, the whole of it could be unsafe. But not only here—everywhere. They had taken ample measures to protect Blackgard, and Vasilisa had been assigned as Sophia’s guardian—that woman had blocked Traugott from acting once before in defense of Elenore… but with so much happening, Zen, Sataistador, and Traugott… it was a whirlwind that Argrave wasn’t willing to tolerate.

“Argrave? Argrave!” Anneliese shook Argrave’s arm, finally drawing him out of his rapid-fire thoughts.

He looked at her, only now realizing he clenched the armrest of the chair tight enough to crush the wood into splinters. He relaxed his grip. “You see it, don’t you?” He asked her in a low whisper.

Anneliese looked over, then back at Argrave. “Yes. But he… he lacks what Norman possessed. That abyss within, that power.”

“That makes a difference?” He whispered tersely, prepared to move. He watched Orion walk to the edge of the booth, gripping it in preparation to move and do something.

“Is something the matter?” Governor Zen asked, in a tone that suggested he was truly ignorant and confused about the way they were acting. “Does something about the performance disturb you?”

Argrave looked at him, scrutinizing his features intently as he judged what to do next. Sataistador was one thing, Zen another—but Traugott? The governor and the god were reasonable actors. They had unideal goals, but they could be counted on to act in certain ways. Traugott, however… he was an utterly irrational sociopath with unknown goals.

Zen must’ve interpreted something about the way Argrave was looking at him, because he stood up from his seat and backed away. He pulled back his robe slightly, saying, “Let’s be calm. I don’t think I said anything untoward.”

Argrave spotted a red dagger, well-concealed in the governor’s robes. Elenore’s voice cut into his head as he observed it, her voice asking insistently, “What’s wrong?”

“Good King Norman’s down on that stage. Playing me,” he informed her succinctly, recalling she had never before seen the Good King. “Traugott took Norman’s corpse, back then. Meaning Traugott must be involved, somehow. We’re isolated out here. We need to leave.”

opera house, right now. Anyone acts rashly—even if Traugott

from the governor, but kept him in his peripherals as he discussed with Elenore. “Could be trying to wipe us out in

Dras’ own people are scouting; even the gods are trailing

furthermore, wouldn’t be a good thing, especially not at this pivotal moment. When he looked deeper,

non-threatening tone. “You’ve organized this entire wedding. And someone I’d call a nemesis is standing on that stage, playing me. I’d like you

the stage with some degree of shock, studying Norman briefly before looking back to Argrave. “You understand… I’m uninvolved with the show, the actors. I merely paid the Chou Opera House to put on this performance. Maestro Baobao operates

has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found

no indication Zen was lying. He looked back at the

want to speak to him

tells me why that man is here. But that’d be somewhat impolite for our first meeting, so talking will suffice.” Argrave straightened. “Considering you’re the one paying his bill, you can make that happen,

cautiously asked, “What about

later. But I want to see the Maestro, and I

you to him. Considering we’re in the middle

me, Argrave?”

from his neck, then followed Zen as the man went to help Argrave in

to the

to capture the actor alive—that’s the most paramount. If I have him, I can study him. If I can study him, I

“My thoughts exactly.”

#####

was brought before this Maestro Baobao in the back, where half a thousand props and stage setting items languished unused. The man, as befitted the troupe he ran, was extremely flamboyant. Garbed only in feathers, he was fat and bald and had a face that seemed

person explained why the Maestro was being pulled away from his performance, the fat man fluttered and said sweetly, “Grand Commandant, if there’s any problem with the performance—any problem with

hire the man playing me? Where did you

entirely sure where he came from, Grand Commandant. He was a part of a travelling troupe of entertainers—he had joined it to be put on display as a passing oddity, but one of my people noticed he had a talent for performance—a flair for the dramatic, your lordship. His rhyming tongue astounds even our veteran performers, he has top notch improvisation, and his novel appearance draws sizable crowds on slower nights. It was never

travelling troupe find him?” Argrave questioned