Jackal Among Snakes

“Perhaps you should allow me to accompany you, Your Highness,” Orion suggested, and Argrave cast a glance back at the towering prince.

“It should not be many times more, and I will spend no more spirits on each journey,” Anneliese said, then amended, “…unless she has a particularly bad day, of course. I cannot discount that.”

Argrave put his hand on her shoulder, leading her forward as he explained what she’d missed. “The myriarchs have been electing the new Supreme Myriarch.”

“Still?” Anneliese looked at him in surprise.

“Mmhmm.” Argrave nodded. “Doesn’t matter who wins, really. All of them seemed to agree with the alliance we proposed.”

Orion cracked his knuckles, and said under his breath, “As they should.”

“While we wait… let’s visit with those still with us,” Argrave suggested, and Anneliese gave a nod of confirmation. “We have to broach that idea of ours with them…”

#####

Artur, Vasilisa, and Moriatran sat around the fire, somewhat removed from the Veidimen nearby.

“Reflecting magic? All of it, all of those S-rank spells, just bounced?” Artur said in a grim whisper.

Vasilisa looked at him with her cold blue eyes. “If His Majesty hears you know of this, he won’t be pleased. You were supposed to be fighting alongside the Veidimen, as we ordered us. Instead, you were spying on him.”

Moriatran gave a sagely nod, but added nothing more.

“I’m not eager to go into battle anywhere the king’s not,” Artur shook his head. “It’s too risky. Easy to send a man into death, but harder to march into it yourself.” Artur rubbed his squat hands together. “But by all extent, he fought the harder opponent than you faced. Surely you felt their power when we confronted them… but His Majesty faced them head on. All the might of their magic.”

Moriatran scratched at his brow with his wizened hands, asking, “And you’re claiming Argrave made these spells bounce?”

“S-rank spells,” Artur nodded. “Hundreds of them, maybe thousands. Definitely thousands, given how long he kept doing it. This was a barrage that put gods in their place… the same gods we saw tear through this forest those weeks ago…. and Argrave was the most important combatant, not them.”

In the Veidimen camp, all of the snow elves came to attention. Artur craned, looking to see what was happening. It seemed that Argrave had returned. After receiving a brief status update from Grimalt, Bastel, and Rasten, he quickly left them indistinguishable words and headed for the three Magisters by the fire.

“Look at this quiet bunch,” Argrave began as he joined them. The three offered subdued greetings, and so Argrave quipped, “If you stay so solemn, I might think I stumbled across you while you were talking about me behind my back.”

Artur’s soul left his body as the king glared sternly. Then, his face shifted into a grin and he laughed loudly, patting Vasilisa’s shoulder.

“I’m just kidding around with you. Always wanted to do that…” The king mused, settling down by the fire. Artur’s heart took minutes to slow again. “Not going to be here longer,” he continued, the flame reflecting off his gray eyes as he stared at it. “Things are coming to a close. But while I have you here… I’ve got some questions for you three.”

“You are the king,” Moriatran said simply, prompting him to ask away.

“First… Artur.” Argrave looked to him. “What we talked about, your enchanting institution… Elenore’s interested. You’d be merging with an organization she already had partially established, and you’d be subordinate to the crown. The finer details of pay and authority can be worked out… but I’m confident we can get it through parliament.”

Artur straightened his back. “Your Majesty, that’s… that sounds wonderful.”

“Yeah… wait until you get the work,” Argrave scooted aside, making room for Anneliese who came to sit just beside him. Orion came to stand guard at the back of the royal pair. “Fact is, we’re going to need to prepare for threats like we’ve faced here on every corner of the kingdom. I can’t imagine you’ll get more than two hours of sleep, daily. You’ll be preparing the entire kingdom for threats on the level of divinity.”

“And we must not prepare alone,” Anneliese cut in. “We must actively combat the opportunists in this cycle of judgment.”

“That’s right,” Argrave nodded. “Elenore tells me the expeditionary parties we sent out are coming back one by one, bringing grand spoils to Vasquer. You need to receive, copy, and distribute them en masse. You’ll have plenty of resources, and even more responsibility, Artur. I hope you enjoy it.” He looked next to Vasilisa. “And you…”

“No,” Vasilisa answered at once, shaking her head. “Whatever it is, I’m going to my sister in the north, and I’m staying there. Following you is bad for the heart.”

“…fair enough,” Argrave conceded. “Regardless, I’ll say it. Perhaps Moriatran will be interested.” The king cleared his throat. “Fact is, proactivity beats reactivity. We need to locate and destroy problematic gods, and forge alliances with beneficial gods as they appear. Naturally, I’ll need to employ a large contingent of powerful mages, who will in turn learn even more powerful spells.”

“What is beyond S-rank?” Moriatran questioned.

“Nothing,” Argrave shook his head. “But there are peaks left unreached on that level… partly because they couldn’t be reached, and partly because they shouldn’t be reached,” the king ran his hand across his legs as his gray eyes lost themselves in the flame.

Vasilisa poked the fire with a charred stick, and it let up a plume of flame as the branches of the redwoods they used as firewood collapsed inwards. “Hunting gods now, are you?”

“The ones I can,” Argrave confirmed.

Vasilisa laughed, fixing some of her hair behind her ear. She looked at Argrave squarely. “When will you stop setting your sights higher?”

Argrave smiled, enjoying the warmth of the flame as night set upon them. He thought on her question as the Magisters grew drowsier and drowsier from the flame. In time, an answer came to him.

“When there’s nothing higher to see,” Argrave said quietly.

#####

After a fairly long while, a great uproar spread through the elven army. Argrave managed to extrapolate that the next Supreme Myriarch had been chosen from their ranks. He remained entirely uninvolved in the process, though most of the elves knew that he supported Batbayar. And as it turned out, elections really were rigged.

There was no coronation, no grand ceremony, no proclamation… but when Argrave next walked among the elves, all referred to Batbayar as Supreme Myriarch. He walked with Ganbaatar, addressing his old Tumen member-by-member. Argrave wondered if the man really did remember all ten thousand names. In time, though, they met face-to-face.

“King Argrave,” the man once known as Batbayar greeted him. That name would never be used—at least, not when referring to this person. Now, he was only the Supreme Myriarch.

“I don’t think it’d be right to congratulate you,” Argrave greeted him. “I’m told the leader has to receive the most punishments of all in the entire army. Self-flagellations, the like. You put priests to shame.”

The Supreme Myriarch nodded seriously. “Leadership is not a boon, it is a burden. I thought you ignorant of that… but perhaps you are a step ahead of me, hearing your tale to liberate this forest,” he referenced, looking to Ganbaatar.

Ganbaatar gave Argrave a quiet nod. “You kept your promise, Argrave. Some centaurs still linger, left behind, but… they’re no threat to us, now. And in time, we will purge the forests of all that threatens our existence. Our gods will aid us in that. Myself as well.”

“I had another thought in mind,” the Supreme Myriarch cut in. “You ought to represent us in Vasquer, Ganbaatar. I will codify the alliance between our people… and you will keep it whole.”

Ganbaatar looked at the Supreme Myriarch, then shook his head. “I will help for some while longer, and then go. I possessed an eye that told me the locations of powerful vampires… and in it, only two persisted. One with white eyes—Galamon, who was cured. The other had blue eyes. And I remember where it pointed.”

The Supreme Myriarch looked displeased. He searched for words, but Argrave said, “You won’t find him for months yet.”

“And why not?” Ganbaatar looked to him.

“Because he’s miles underground.” Argrave gestured toward the Supreme Myriarch. “But enough of my meddling. We have an alliance to make official.”

“Hold on.” Ganbaatar stopped Argrave as the two of them made to move. “You know of this vampire?”

Got you, Argrave thought, holding back a smile. The Supreme Myriarch was right… it was best for Ganbaatar to stay in Vasquer. There, Argrave would make great use of him as the poster boy for the Vasquer dream… and soon, motivated by his good treatment, elves would come to Vasquer in droves. Indeed, he might need to make an Ellis Island of his own.

"Well... yes," Argrave began, as if hesitating. "But to explain who this vampire is, I have to explain something else... specifically, about the Castellan of the Empty and the Ebon Cult."

#####

“…and so, we arrive to the present,” Anneliese finished telling her story. “To this grove, where I tell you our story.”

Onychinusa looked up at her. “It’s over?”

“Not over.” Anneliese shook her head. “The story continues even now. I hope… you understand us better. Who we are. Why we act. What we want.” Her eyes wandered to the chain embedded in Onychinusa. “By… tomorrow, perhaps, I believe this spell will be fully degraded from my A-rank ascension. And you… you will be free.”

Onychinusa looked up at her, their amber eyes meeting. Silence persisted for a few seconds, but Anneliese listened intently.

“What do you want from me?” Onychinusa asked suddenly. “My help? My strength?”

Anneliese heard the question, her eyes turning from place to place as she thought of how to succinctly answer a nuanced question. “If you asked Argrave, I think he would say yes.” She looked up to the sky. “And it would be a lie to act as though I found your help undesirable.”

Onychinusa grew still.

“But I’m not going to ask that of you.” Anneliese lowered her head, white hair falling near Onychinusa’s face. “Because you do have purpose, Onychinusa. I cannot give it to you. Argrave cannot, either. All we can offer is help. And if you should choose to go, to leave us… admittedly, I will be sad.”

Onychinusa realized that the idea made her sad, too. Where would she go? She had the dryads, true enough… they loved her. But to exist as they did was not something that appealed to her. She had seen much of the world, heard much of the world, and now she needed to see it. After all, Anneliese might be lying. She had lied before. If Onychinusa could unearth her lies as they travelled together… indeed, perhaps that might be fun.

As she stared up at Anneliese’s amber eyes, Onychinusa came to a realization. “We look alike.”

“You realize this now?” Anneliese raised a brow.

“You said you were an unwanted child,” Onychinusa continued. “That your mother didn’t care for you.”

“It happens,” Anneliese dismissed magnanimously.

“But you got a new father. I could be your new mother, right?” Onychinusa said seriously. “My imperial family often adopted promising talents, marrying them into the family to improve magical ability. I read all about it.”

Anneliese burst into laughter at once, shocking Onychinusa. She laughed for a long while. The noise wasn’t entirely unpleasant, as Onychinusa knew that Anneliese did not mean it to hurt.

When she settled down, Anneliese said reminiscently, “You know… I have two younger sisters. Well… three, now,” she amended. “They were a fair big younger than me, but my mother… well, never mind. Whatever the case, I never came to know them well. And in coming here, you posed as my sister.”

Onychinusa listened to that. “It was a flimsy excuse, even then.”

“Well… whatever the case, I always regretted failing my sisters like that,” Anneliese said quietly. She took a deep breath and sighed. “I have to go, Onychinusa.”

“Okay,” Onychinusa nodded, accepting Anneliese’s direction. As the snow elf made to leave, Onychinusa called out, “Bring…!” she paused, hesitating. “Bring Argrave tomorrow.”

“I can do that,” Anneliese nodded, smiling. “But hopefully, soon… you can come to visit us.”