Jackal Among Snakes

“That’s not important, Argrave. Think about this for a moment.” Elenore gently slid her goblet of wine aside and leaned forward. “Should they sit in the underbellies of the earth, removed from all conflict, and reap all the benefits of our protection while they do nothing? This is a fight for the world; they have to get involved, even if they’re pacifistic rock-eaters. We must involve them. If Gerechtigkeit is the arbiter, then they must step to the stand and bear witness right alongside us. Their testimony must be given in steel and spell, just as ours. And the tool to making that happen is Mozzahr.”

He stared at her for a time, the silence interrupted by Durran’s light snoring. “It’s not the same. Provoking a war is markedly different from persuading people to take up arms.”

“Mozzahr would be starting the war,” Elenore said. “The dwarves, the Ebon Cult… if you asked me to choose between them and us, I’d much prefer them to fight while leaving Vasquer yet more time to grow and strengthen itself.

“It sets a rather terrible precedent.” Argrave leaned on the table. Perhaps this was one of the vicious cycles that Castro warned Argrave of avoiding. On the other hand, dismissing the possibility outright… perhaps that was arrogance. “I’ll consider it. But my foremost concern with Mozzahr is not what we do once we meet him—rather, the idea of meeting him itself is the subject of biggest concern. I like living. Meeting him might cut that short.”

Elenore nodded at his not-quite-rejection. “Of course. I’ll have Melanie working on that front. Pretty soon, we’ll have established a firm foothold in the abandoned dwarven cities.”

“Alright. Then… I say, enjoy the rest of your night. We can deal with the things we talked about in the morning, but I have to stay up in case the Alchemist arrives. It wouldn’t do for him to have an improper reception.”

As Argrave rose, Elenore called out, “Hang on.”

“Yes?” He looked down at her.

“I’m… not being totally honest,” Elenore admitted. “It isn’t like I lied, but perhaps I ought to be more forthcoming.”

Argrave glanced at Anneliese, then back to Elenore. “Alright. Go ahead. Trust me with anything.”

“You’re bringing the Alchemist here to look into the possibility of circumventing the cycle of judgment,” Elenore said, her eyes wandering to Durran. “If Mozzahr seeks that same thing… if Mozzahr might help us… perhaps there might be cooperation.”

Argrave blinked. “It’s a little hard to bring an egomaniac to the bargaining table. He seeks to circumvent the cycle of judgment by becoming the cycle the judgment. It was never explicitly stated, but I theorize he believes he’s the ideal candidate to judge whether or not the world should continue to exist. He wants to be the one who decides everything.”

“Egomaniacs are some of the best people imaginable at deluding themselves. If we allow his ego to believe it is in control, he can do so many things that are far from ideal. Even Felipe could compromise, provided his ego was not wounded,” Elenore stared at Argrave. “Durran did something stupid, wagering his life on something this far-fetched. But gods be damned, I’ll do most everything I can to get him out of it. And if this is something that might…!” She placed her slender hands onto the table and clenched them. “I have to. I have to look into this.”

Argrave leaned down and wrapped his arms around her. She was reticent at first, but seemed to gladly surrender after a few seconds. He could practically feel some of her tension melt away. Hers was a silently born burden, but she was as human as everyone else. Her constant vigilance coupled with Durran’s predicament had battered her greatly.

“I hear you, sis. I do. But Mozzahr is what Felipe thought he was—a cold, efficient ruler, who makes rather unemotional decisions and has the charisma to see them carried out by his legions of adoring followers. We dug our father’s body up today because Felipe failed in what he attempted,” he reminded her quietly, speaking lightly into her hair. “Mozzahr hasn’t failed.”

Elenore sighed. “Yes, I… understand. Felipe… by the gods… I suppose when you see someone looming over you for so long, they become larger than they truly were in your memory.” She tapped his back, signaling that she was ready to be released, and Argrave complied.

“Are you good?” Argrave asked with a smile.

“I will be,” Elenore nodded. “Sorry for babbling. This is why I abstain from this…” she muttered, twirling the empty wine goblet on the table.

“Maybe you can get a heart like mine, fix that problem forever,” Argrave tapped his chest, and then bid her goodbye.

#####

Argrave stood in a large warehouse in Blackgard. The place was freshly built and empty as anything, accommodating only Argrave’s personal retinue of Orion and Galamon plus a gargantuan caravan. Considering what—or rather, who—it held, perhaps it was best to call it ‘suitably large.’ He didn’t quite understand how this thing had gotten here so quickly, but he didn’t care enough to ask.

Several people—all of whom Argrave presumed were named Pawn—walked to the back of the carriage, opening it up. A large gray-skinned hand gripped the top of the carriage, and then its owner clambered out. The Alchemist straightened to his formidable height, and then looked around.

“I can hear them. People. By the thousands,” the Alchemist said in his cutting voice. “It’s best I’m far from any… cities.”

Behind, Pawns moved deeper into the carriage, and Argrave watched with curiosity. Castro and Ingo were likely back there, and they’d be retrieved by the humanoid chimeras of the Alchemist.

Argrave clasped his hands together. “Don’t worry. The place I had in mind for you has two others. My ancestor, the Gilderwatcher Vasquer, and an ancient elf by the name of Onychinusa. It’s a short walk… relatively speaking.”

“Ancient elf?” the Alchemist repeated—a rare display of curiosity.

“From the empire of the last millennium,” Argrave explained.

The Alchemist steely gray eyes flashed green for half an instant, then settled down into mundanity. “Enough talk.”

“I don’t think it is,” Argrave disagreed. “How did the operation on Ingo go?”

The Alchemist looked down at Argrave. “It succeeded. Now, take me to my space. Show me the body you claimed bears Gerechtigkeit’s taint.”

Argrave smiled bitterly. “Alright. You’ll need to hide yourself—invisibility or some such spell.”

The Alchemist’s robe of black hair bubbled, and then seemed to shift like panels. In only a few seconds, the twenty-foot-tall giant disappeared, completely vanishing as a chameleon might. The camouflage was so solid that Argrave thought he was staring at nothing at all. He could see him if he willed his eyes to locate magic, but beyond that? It was an impossibility.

When Argrave saw Castro and Ingo walked out of the carriage, capably supported, he called out, “Castro? Everything good?”

The old tower master looked at Argrave. His steps slowed for a moment, and then he gave a slow nod. “Everything will be.”

With that, Castro kept walking, solely focused on Ingo. He watched them go until his people escorted them out. Only then did Argrave look at the Alchemist and say, “Right… let’s go, then.”

#####

Though Argrave was quite concerned with the well-being of Castro and his apprentice, he decided to prioritize the murder monster he’d allowed into his capital city. The Alchemist blended in so completely that Argrave more than once thought to ask if the thing was still following. He never did, but he thought about it. The only indication the spellcaster was even present was by the sound of his huge feet hitting the ground.

When they did arrive at the mountaintop of Blackgard housing both Vasquer and Onychinusa, his two bizarre allies watched with obvious paranoia. The Alchemist ignored their prying eyes, more concerned with the subject of his observation than the icy reception around him. Felipe’s body was waiting in a huge coffin, and he was drawn to it like he knew.

The Alchemist pried the lid open with his two fingers, effortlessly pulling free the nails that kept it bound. The wooden lid clattered loudly, and the Alchemist looked back. “When did he die?”

“Only a few months ago,” Argrave supplied.

“Was he buried deeply?” the Alchemist grew more eyes on his fingers, all of them growing green with magic.

“About eight feet deep. And from personal anecdotes… he was—”

“An A-rank spellcaster. His bones looks as though he was aged at around two hundred,” the Alchemist retracted his hand.

“I… don’t think he was even sixty,” Argrave slowly supplied. “People said he was aging far faster than he should have. I can attest he was graying. By all accounts, the decay is unnatural.”

“When you say something so obvious, I think you must speak only to hear your own voice,” the Alchemist’s head sprouted more eyes, glaring at Argrave even as he worked. “Begone. I shall be here. My chimeras shall construct an abode, well removed from human eyes. When I have answers, you shall be received.”

“Yeah… okay,” Argrave nodded, backing away slowly. “But… that decay… you said it might be like what’s in me. If there’s traces of that same sort—”

“You show no sign of accelerated decay. But you may, if silence remains broken.” The Alchemist turned around to Argrave, saying nothing further. Even with his safety guaranteed, Argrave took that as ample sign to leave.

The Alchemist’s eyes scanned the area, taking it all in… but when they passed by Onychinusa, the ever-focused Alchemist briefly turned away from his task. He faced her, scrutinizing closely. Argrave feared there might be a problem, but then the hulking creature seemed to resume its duty without another thought.

The curiosity, and then that look…? His gaze flitted between the two of them. I don’t want any trouble, and Onychinusa is a bit unpredictable. I’ll get my things, set up here. It’s time for my first foray into segmented spells…

#####

After delaying the meeting with Artur until next week and sending word for the free passage of the Vysenn refugees, Argrave set up shop a decent distance away from the Alchemist, near Vasquer. Anneliese joined him, adding yet more A-rank spells to her arsenal in a quiet reading session. The great snake was a good windbreak for them, and surprisingly warm despite being a reptile. He had large plans for segmented spells, and the Alchemist did not seem to care overmuch if they were around so long as they did not speak.

Argrave’s entire approach to magic had been one of efficiency—dispatch a problem as soon as possible with overwhelming power. Now, though… he’d do the same. On a grander scale, granted, but it was the same. He had collected enough parts that he might make something new… something better, maybe.

It was time to break one cycle, at the very least. The next would surely follow.