Jackal Among Snakes

Argrave pushed aside the tent canopy and entered inside. There, Anneliese sat at a table, a few royal guards standing around her.

“Wait outside, guard there,” Argrave directed them, reminded once again of how cramped these guards made him feel.

They gave affirmation and left, and Anneliese did not even lift her head from the notebook she wrote in. Argrave noticed the black cube, dormant and silent, just in front of her hand. He walked behind her and peered over her shoulder, feeling glad she was so entranced in this. Her notes…

“Filter essence, nascent force, right side…” Argrave furrowed his brows as he read, his hands idly playing with one braid of her long white hair. “Are you having a stroke?”

Anneliese looked up at him. “This is how I take notes.”

Argrave read it more. Her notes consisted of mostly two-word phrases placed nonsensically without punctuation or direction.

Her finger landed on some of the words. “I just need something to remind me of what I was thinking when I wrote this. These are just triggers for my mind to recall what was important.”

Immediately giving up on any attempt at understanding how that might function, Argrave grabbed a makeshift portable chair and sat opposite Anneliese. “So… I can assume you’re grasping what’s in there?” his eyes fell upon the black cube of dwarven make.

Anneliese leaned back in the chair, crossing her arms. She looked deep in concentration—that was a rare look on her. It wasn’t because she rarely studied so diligently, but because concentration was seldom necessary.

“Could you tell me what it is you expect from this method?” Anneliese asked him earnestly, amber eyes focused with eager intent.

Argrave placed his hands before him. “Llewellen described it pretty well from what I heard. You can take magic from those you touch. You’ll have a stronger resistance to all spells, and you’ll be able to actively absorb them—not so useful for things like fireballs or lightning bolts, which are concentrated masses, but it can degrade wards or protect you from wide, unfocused attacks. You can completely wipe away lesser enchantments with extended contact. And any spells you cast, provided they hit something living, return a measure of their magic as yours.”

Anneliese listened in silence, then picked up her booklet and wrote a few more things down. Argrave waited patiently. Finally, she leaned back, massaging her temples.

“Headache?” Argrave questioned.

“Yes,” she admitted. “This method is… ridiculously complicated, yet so insightful to the fundamentals of magic as a whole as to overturn many of my preconceptions. But… perhaps that is merely Llewellen in general.” Her amber eyes locked with his own. “I think you should listen with me some—oh.” She stopped, leaning in. “I can see the whites of your eyes again, even if only barely.”

Argrave touched at his cheek almost involuntarily, then placed his hands down. “That’s good, I suppose. It’s been… what, four, coming on five months since I got these eyes?” Argrave shook his head. “Back to the subject.”

Anneliese nodded, then hunched over her notebook. “It… Llewellen deemed it would be impossible for the body to handle the possibility of all ambient magic entering within at once. As such, rather than contain it within what already exists, another vessel needs to be made. Once this vessel is made, the body would change in kind. It would be part of me, but separate… an envelope inside the body…” she sighed deeply. “It is quite difficult to wrap my head around.”

“What’s troubling you?” Argrave pressed.

“Llewellen used… a primal force of nature deep beneath the earth, he called it, to gain a recognition of the fundamental bits of magic. It was in the heartland of the dwarven cities that he encountered it. He called it ‘an overwhelming force beyond anything else.’ Its power was so overwhelming, he said it ‘put everything in small quantities that were comprehensible,’ which allowed him to both ascend to A-rank and tap into this force. It was the reason why he perished. This force, whatever it was… its power overwhelmed him,” she explained. “I cannot observe that force as he did—it’s in dwarven cities, and I cannot risk his fate. As such, I must find my understanding elsewhere. A difficult, almost impossible task without this enlightening experience, I must say. If it were easy, others would have done it already…”

Argrave scoffed. “It’s been two days, Anne. You’ll get it.” He tapped at the table. “Is Llewellen really…?”

“He’s a genius,” she said at once. “Thanks to you, I have spoken to many high-ranking spellcasters—Hegazar, Vera, Rowe, Melan, Castro… each and all have tremendous insights into the field of magic, but none have ever enlightened me with such succinct and poignant diction.”

“I’m glad for you,” Argrave said sincerely with a smile. A silence fell as both had nothing more to say on the matter. After a few moments, Argrave dipped his head and closed his eyes, deciding to speak his heart. “I have to bring war to the north. Time was, I set out to stop one.”

“Restore order to the north,” Anneliese rephrased, changing her tone to match the new subject. “You heard of the situation there. There are bandits and veritable warlords reigning over the peasantry and taking what they will. It is a good thing. The right thing.”

“The American way,” Argrave nodded with a cynical, bitter smile. “Well… I’ve never really felt at ease with this.”

“Perhaps this will put you at ease,” Anneliese said, rising to her feet in turn and walking over to their bed. She retrieved a letter and held it out to Argrave. “From Elenore.”

Argrave took the letter and read it. Within, it said that Castro had gathered together all of the Magisters within the tower and informed them of Gerechtigkeit’s existence. Though he still needed to get the information to the other Magisters beyond the confines of the Tower of the Gray Owl, in time they would all know.

Looking up, Argrave said, “That old man went ahead with things?” As Anneliese nodded, he kept reading the document. “She predicts… they’ll announce public support of my coronation?”

Anneliese nodded again with a smile playing about her lips. “Did you read it all? Someone is already coming to rouse support. A Magister,” she pointed at the letter.

Argrave set the paper aside, stepping around the grass of the tent. “That’s… it is great news,” he admitted. “But… it’s also going to cause a big wave.”

Anneliese’s smile faded as she considered his point. “Will it cause a bigger wave than the sudden advent of the first wave of Gerechtigkeit’s influence when the boundary between this realm and the realm of the gods weakens?” she stepped after him then rested one hand on his shoulder. “I think not.”

Argrave stood in silence for a few seconds as Anneliese offered comfort. “If you’ll remember… the reason I sought out Elenore was to have a regent so that I would have greater freedom,” he recalled, staring off into the distance. “She’s doing a splendid job, thus far. I don’t have any complaints. But… I’m wondering more every day why I’m here.”

“You feel constrained,” she guessed.

“Not really,” Argrave shook his head. “I can do what I want. But I’m starting to wonder if I’m really doing the best thing I can by staying with everyone in Relize.”

Anneliese took her hand off his shoulder and stepped around until she was in vision. “I have no confidence anyone could create such cohesion in the patricians… barring you. I think you are a good leader.”

“I’m the pretty face of the operation,” Argrave nodded with a smile. “But Elenore’s the one really handling things. Administration, facilitation… all of it. Maybe… maybe I need to shake things up. Take a bigger hand. We still don’t have the spellcasters we need. Maybe there’s something I could do.”

“Have you forgotten Castro’s support already? What, do you wish to head to another far-flung region of the world, explore some terrible cavern, and fight against things barely within our ken?” Anneliese shrugged and looked away, then rested her finger atop the black cube. “Perhaps you need a distraction.”

Nodding with her words, Argrave looked at the cube. “Well… alright, let’s have a listen. Maybe I can see why it is you praise this guy so much. Maybe I can get some insight into my own A-rank advancement.”

“Now?” Anneliese asked, yet she was already stepped towards it. “I can almost guarantee it will help. Come, let’s sit. Listening from the beginning might help me…”

#####

“You’re sure about this?” Durran asked Elenore.

Elenore nodded, counting coins and placing them into a box. “I am. Unless you’d stop me by Argrave’s directive?”

Durran put one thumb through a loop on his belt and hung it idly. “Argrave didn’t give me a directive to help you, nor moderate you. I volunteered. He gave you the opportunity to refuse my presence, as you recall.”

“I thought you didn’t like helping others. You made me beg for it when I fell down at my greenhouse, from my memory,” she said scornfully.

“Made you beg? I asked you if you wanted help, and didn’t help until you said yes,” Durran laughed and shook his head. “This selective memory of yours might pose problems for your competence. Listen…” Durran shook his head, still laughing somewhat, then continued, “The only reason I ask if you’re sure is because I’ve met Magisters before. No one in this city can defend you from him. These people are monsters, and damned weird besides.”

“Magister Traugott is coming to the north to spread word to the other Magisters of Gerechtigkeit, and ensure they will fight on the right side,” Elenore shook her head. “He’s already arranged to meet one here: Magister Vasilisa. He is a proponent of ours. It’s perfectly reasonable for him to request a meeting with Argrave. Since he’s not here, I’ll sit in for him.”

“Ostensibly,” Durran nodded. “I knew a guy that was a steadfast cooperator to us in the fight against the Vessels, but he had a whole different agenda the entire time. You said Magister Traugott volunteered to come to the north?”

“He did,” Elenore nodded. “Listen, Durran—the north has many, many valuable spellcasters in its midst. They are, of yet, completely undecided. The south, central Vasquer—the majority of their mages have thrown in their lot with the local armies. The northern mages remain… reticent. Magister Traugott was sent by Castro, and this could be a huge boon. Spellcasters can make sieges trivialities. We need all we can get, especially when we’re glaringly deficient in magical support.”

Durran scratched his chin. “Alright. What do you know about this guy?”

“He’s a scholar, fascinated by the unknowns,” Elenore summarized succinctly. “Apparently, his A-rank ascension has something to do with… shadows, or darkness. Reports vary. If only Argrave were…” she shook her head. “But he’s not. Traugott is travelling quickly by magic. Apparently, he’ll arrive very soon.”

Durran looked off to the side. “…yeah, it seems reasonable to meet. But do you have to go personally?”

“If he’s coming here to help us, I think it would be best to show proper respect, and help his task here,” Elenore nodded. “I want you to come, too—apparently, he might be from the Burnt Desert. Having you there might lower his guard.”

“Traugott’s hardly a Burnt Desert name,” Durran said suspiciously. “But… sure, I’ll go. I’ve got an idea, too, something to… mitigate some worries of mine.”

“Then I’ll send out someone to receive him,” Elenore nodded. “Melanie can handle this, I should think. When Argrave returns… I should hope it would be to good news.”