Jackal Among Snakes

Chapter 661: Bad Blood

“I suspect the man’s head burst into gore due to the pressure of containing Gerechtigkeit, not out of any deliberate act,” Raven said as he studied the corpse.

Anneliese looked at him as he turned the body over in his hands. “I might concur—that force, that pressure… it strained against the vessel until it could deform no more before bursting free. But how do you explain the image on the wall?”

All three of them gazed at what could only be called a painting of a fire. It lost neither shape nor color no matter how long it persisted.

“A final message, perhaps. Or a demonstration he is incapable of suppressing what he really is. Fire; uncontrolled destruction that eats all it can to grow, and leaves scars in that which it cannot burn. It may signify that preparation he so grandly boasted of.” The Alchemist raised his huge gray hand to the image, ruining the piece with a stroke of his hand. “Let this swipe of my hand demonstrate what his plan should mean to us.”

Argrave found himself clenching his hands together, and relaxed with a deliberate deep breath. Anneliese watched him, asking, “You look like you’re holding back from saying something.”

“Well.” He looked up. “It’s clear from the rumors surfacing about me that he listens to all we say.”

“And?” Anneliese raised a brow. “He is not yet here on this realm. He cannot respond to our plans as we can to his.”

“It’s not a plan, it’s…” Argrave closed his eyes, reimagining the brief exchange of words he’d had. “If that was a mere fragment of his being, I find it hard to imagine how all of us will face that.”

Raven put his huge hand on Argrave’s shoulder. “Face him as Orion did. Raging against the end, defiant in your steady pursuit of a fate unknown.”

Argrave took the rare comfort from Raven in stride, nodding until he remembered something. “We have to go see Orion,” he told Anneliese, and her eyes brightened at the reminder.

“Of course,” she nodded firmly. “He’s with his mother.”

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like a Great Dane beside a child. Her blonde hair was wispy, thin, and bore some signs it might never grow back in some areas. She was thin, almost dreadfully so—Argrave’s thigh might’ve been thicker than her waist. But in her sapphire-like blue eyes, there was a brightness that Argrave had never before seen, and

victory over Gerechtigkeit’s

inflicted on her by Gerechtigkeit, had been remedied. In particular, putting the mental-warding ring on her had essentially closed an open wound. Once closed, it allowed old scars to heal. Allowed her

must depart, mother.

quiet, tender voice that

to where Argrave and Anneliese waited, then gestured for them to leave

the skies above. “Yet concurrently, the greatest tragedy unimaginable wracks our nation. The fell judge would burn our civilization to ash. We must stand in

a curt nod. “And…

down his long black beard. “Considering our recent adversities, this must be about her affliction of the mind. You would seek answers from her.” He closed his eyes. “My mother is well again. I cannot arrogantly decide on her behalf what she should do with what is hers. All I would ask, as a filial son, is that you give her time enough to

been taken

him along. “So, let’s

the center between Argrave and Anneliese. “I could not, so to speak, strain my brain until I found the power of the mind that our ancestors possess. If it were to happen, it would

to value himself a good deal more, and had become far more grounded as a person. That said, he still retained certain eccentric aspects to his personality. Foremost among them was a disregard for many characteristics of other persons. This had

it and walked aside, and familiar faces revealed themselves one after another. There was the decidedly plain-looking Boarmask, lifting his head up from a book. He was one of the original protagonists from Heroes of Berendar, yet… he wasn’t the only one,

Heroes of Berendar had opposed Argrave in one way or another, and now both worked underneath Orion in his pursuit for the secrets of their bloodline. They weren’t even the most outlandish figures present—Mial, elven daughter the Castellan of the Empty, sat at a desk with several old scrolls laid out before her. Ingo, the near-surrogate son of Castro, had also joined this motley crew. He and Orion were getting on quite well, both of them being able to relate to

their affliction in House Quadreign’s black fire. Now, these elite veterans of

Orion shouted out in his commanding voice as he entered the room. “Pay your

all paid them some manner of respect—bowed heads at the least, and kneeling at the most. Orion looked between them all like a proud

seemed like a kitten before him. “I instructed you to collect information from the group. Do you have it