Jackal Among Snakes

Argrave stood at an elevated place in Law’s Court, looking down at the assembling masses. Though he most preferred single-player games, he had to confess he had some experience with what these people were preparing for: a raid boss. Law was the raid leader, while the majority of the junior partners and some of the seniors were mere participants, each hoping to score a great bounty in the battle to come.

“I say we go now.” Argrave looked back. “All’s ready for our absence?”

Elenore nodded to Argrave. “Yes. Anneliese will be your regent, with ample guards alongside her in light of her magical setbacks. We’ve sent word to Raccomen to expect our presence. What did you learn from that thing in your head, that wiki?”

Argrave started walking, and she joined him. “The page was only a few paragraphs long.”

“Is that unusual?”

“Very damned unusual. It means that someone avoided significant inquiry by Erlebnis, whose very nature revolved around obsessively pursuing knowledge. You achieve that by doing two things—being very unimportant, or being very skilled.” Argrave stopped before a Justiciar, then told Elenore, “The extent of it is this: Lindon is the god of the mind, dreams, and the consciousness. Anything more than that’s beyond my ken.”

“Right.” Elenore looked up at the Justiciar. “Take us to Raven, Law.”

“Of course,” the Justiciar responded, then took off down the hall.

Law’s Court began to distort as they walked, staircases heading down appearing where they hadn’t been before. They descended deep, deep into the depths of the divine realm, and all clamoring sounds they’d heard in moments past began to die. The stairs they came from sealed off one after the other, and Argrave heard clicking noises that sounded like locks. This was where the court kept its criminals. In particular, war criminals.

Finally, the Justiciar took them to an incredibly small door, far smaller than all the ones lining the rest of the place. The pommel of the Justiciar’s weapon was a key, and after opening it, another door awaited them at the end of a small hall. This place was a little like an airlock, ensuring that nothing followed them before they left completely—and it was something truly needed, the Alchemist being what he was.

“Would you mind if I waited outside?” Elenore asked. “Being in a divine realm is more excitement than I care to handle already. The Alchemist…”

“I’d prefer it,” Argrave told her, then stepped into the door. “Shouldn’t be long.”

The door shut behind Argrave. The Justiciar took great care to ensure there was nothing that could slip by it, then walked to the other door. Argrave’s heart beat a little faster as it unlocked the next golden door, then pushed it open. Argrave was expecting something to jump out at them, but nothing like that happened.

The Alchemist stood in the center of the box-shaped room, precisely as Argrave remembered him. Around twenty feet tall, gray skin, lacking a nose, and possessed of a robe made of his own black hair spilling down from the top of his head. Then, in a familiar voice like splintering ice, he spoke.

“You took far too long.”

Argrave walked in with the Justiciar, his eyes scanning the room. Only once he was content nothing was lurking in the shadows, he answered, “Hey, Raven.”

call me that. Now, tell me—what have I missed? You must’ve come here needing my help.

that familiar tone and condescension let him lapse into bygone times. “We’re going

days ago I had excised the Smiling Raven. Fortunately, it seems your fool mind can recognize the obvious, even if at significant delay. Let’s go. I have

was a box-shaped indent in the wall. “I need you to get in the

impeded by walls of metal compressing the whole of me into a tight space. If we’re to adequately fight Gerechtigkeit, there can be no more delays, no more unnecessary imprisonments. I

was. How you destroyed an entire continent. I just can’t risk it. If

with his gray eyes. He raised

Argrave like missiles. The Justiciar raised his shield up and caught him, and the entire room came aglow with golden light. More than a thousand chains erupted outward, catching each of the individual beasts and

Raven shouted, his voice a deep, desperate caterwaul coming from the thousands of different bodies he’d become. “I just want to help you. You know so much, but you need to know just a little more! You need

his teeth together and closed his eyes. “Get him ready to be moved,” he told the

Alchemist screamed, crying from innumerable eyes. “You must be me. Only then can you know! Only then can we grow, together!” The Justiciar slowly advanced, pushing the

source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon;

be murdered before his eyes while he stayed powerless. It was so

metal, locking the Alchemist—and the Smiling Raven, as well—away. The room went silent. The Justiciar grabbed the handle of the box and pulled it away, setting it down in the center of the now-dark room. A simple cube with a handle, containing one of the most dangerous

I take him?” The Justiciar

I’ve got someone for the

#####

the many courtyards of the Great Chu imperial palace. Her name was Sun Li—formerly Ji Li, and daughter of the Emperor of the Great Chu. When he’d first seen her, she’d been wearing an ostentatious outfit, a pound of makeup, and enough gold in

had to the woman he married. Theirs had been a practical arrangement, and though most of that practicality was nullified by the death of

a noise, because Orion snapped his head over. He said a brief word to Sun Li, then jogged over to Argrave quickly. “My apologies, Your Majesty.

maybe you can stay. I can ask

his head quickly. “This

sure,” Argrave said somberly, still thinking about that scene with the Alchemist. It wouldn’t rest in

and I

watching over Emperor Ji Meng. Patriarch Dras had assumed Argrave’s role as Grand Commandant and established his Veidimen throughout the region. The land of Veiden had most lost its population to mass migration, and now the snow elves had spread out throughout the whole of the Great Chu and Vasquer. The patriarch, together with Veid, had made the Veidimen into excellent peacekeepers. Indeed, there was peace—or as close as they had come to it, at least. Though still insular, refusing to intermarry significantly, they cooperated and traded with the

was but the calm before the storm,

“Is something amiss, Argrave?”

polished back into a gem adorning the imperial court. True to his word, the emperor had continued to drink Ebonice tea, totally divesting himself of any magic. He barely had any hand in politics—public ceremonies, nothing more. He was a puppet, through and through, and even reveled in that role. The only iron hand he still had was over his family. That

shook his head in response to the emperor’s