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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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

demonstration victory over Gerechtigkeit’s mental

thin, scarred lips. According to Orion, she had fully returned to her old self. The madness, which was almost assuredly 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

“I must depart,

a quiet, tender voice that sounded as if it barely escaped

Argrave and Anneliese waited, then gestured for them to leave the room. They did, and his brother shut

the greatest tragedy unimaginable wracks our nation. The fell judge would burn our civilization to ash. We must stand in stark defiance to that, as ever.” He looked between them. “But I speak enough. You’ve come to hear

curt nod. “And… to ask

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

taken without authorization. Report any

grabbed Orion’s elbow, pulling him along. “So, let’s talk about your research

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 have. Ideas eluded me, and so I sought inspiration from those of the past—those that have already

well what he meant when he said ‘others.’ Orion had come 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 manifested in a somewhat grandiose act

There was the decidedly plain-looking Boarmask, lifting his head up from

Argrave with considerable caution. Both former protagonists of 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.

having tight security. Orion himself wasn’t foolish—his own loyal guard, once the Waxknights, had been cured of their affliction in House Quadreign’s black fire. Now, these elite veterans of Felipe’s old order were a constant eye over Orion’s collection of exotic

in his commanding voice as he entered the

at the least, and kneeling

like a kitten before him. “I