Jackal Among Snakes

“God damn it all… proxies, parables, metaphors, rituals—why can’t these damned gods just talk straight?” Argrave bit at his knuckle, stewing on what Anneliese had reported.

“Because then we would know what they intend to do. That might make their plans a little more difficult to enact,” Anneliese reminded him tactfully.

Argrave chewed a few more times, then looked to her. “I’ll tell you one thing, though. Dimocles… or maybe that was Erlebnis’ advice after all, can’t rule that out… he wants us to use the elven gods and then toss them aside let dirty dish rags. ‘Light the fire, but the don’t stay as the building burns.’ Heh.” He looked off to the side, a little disgusted.

“I think we can say safely, though…” Anneliese began, closing her eyes. “I do not think Erlebnis knows precisely what we intend to do. I think that comes in large part from your tendency to give out your plans piecemeal—barring me, none know of your full plan. Have you been doing that all along to mitigate the impact of potential information leaks?” She looked at him, amber eyes gleaming.

Argrave swallowed. “If anybody else asks, I would say yes, I did act mysterious to hide my plans. Since you’re asking, though—no, it was just a happy accident.”

Anneliese seemed amused, though the gravity of the situation prevented much exuberance. She grew somber as she asked, “How does this change our plans?”

“We’ve committed, right?” Argrave sought to confirm, seeing no way to change course.

“…definitely,” Anneliese confirmed after hesitating half a beat. “Metaphorically speaking… we head north, but in going north, one can still go northeast or northwest.”

“Poetic,” Argrave complimented, then sighed. “I think overthinking it will be just as dangerous as paying Erlebnis’ presence no mind… but if we consider that changing things up might be precisely what Erlebnis wanted us to do, then staying our course might be the best option to subvert him. We drive on, stay focused, try to learn as much as we can… and whatever he throws, we adapt to it.”

Anneliese heard him out, and then questioned, “Have you considered that might be precisely what Erlebnis is doing to you? Waiting for an opportunity?”

Argrave paused. “Maybe. But what’s that matter?”

“There is no better way to get information than to probe for it. If we bait a reaction… we learn how he moves,” Anneliese pointed out. “And how he moves might highlight what he seeks.”

“We’re playing a delicate damn game, Anneliese. One move from Erlebnis might make my so-called allies decide they’re not as fond of the pep in my step as they were before. And if we put on a show, overextend…. Erlebnis might also move to burn down our building,” Argrave held his hand up.

“Yet it is better than doing nothing,” Anneliese argued back.

Argrave clicked his tongue, staring out across the grasslands.

#####

A lone elf wandered into a large grove—one of few places in the endless Bloodwoods were hills rose tall, obscuring a portion of the place as a valley cut off from the rest of the place. She carried what looked to be a bouquet of flowers… but in actuality, they were arrows, their arrowheads branched and split to resemble flowers.

There were several great stone monuments in this secluded grove. They were plain stone rectangles, unadorned and uninscribed. She went to each and brushed it off with practiced grace, clearing leaves and the strange, unnatural fruits of the redwoods away from them all before leaving a single of the arrow-flowers at the foot of them.

When it was done, she knelt in the center of these monuments to pray… until something caught her eye. It was beige, and situated at the top of a hill. It looked unnaturally smooth. Puzzled, she rose to her feet and walked to it. With some effort, she managed to get up to it. She realized it was larger than it seemed, and began to clear away some of the leaves that had fallen to cover it. Her eyes widened when she saw what was unmistakably a fingernail. Believing it to be a giant, her instinct kicked in and she ran down the hill she’d ascended moments before. She grasped at a horn at her side, ready to blow… yet then, the owner of the nail sat up.

With the horn at her lips, she paused abruptly and a weak and pathetic noise came out of the thing as she hesitated in shock. This giant had elven ears, and golden hair all the way down the length of his body. He reached for a crook and planted it in the ground, supporting himself.

Behind each of the monuments, other elven giants sat up in turn. When one set down a bow with a flaming string, the elven woman’s eyes widened in recognition. She pranced about in fear as she was surrounded by ten elven gods.

One—an old man who was badly scarred, and seemed the only among them with white hair—reached his hand out. The woman tensed, but did not step away. He lightly brushed her cheek, his finger far larger than her entire body.

“Pitiful Woodschild…” he muttered groggily, then planted his other hand down upon the hill he sat upon. He began to rise, coming to his full and staggering height. “Be not afraid. We are returned,” he declared, both to the last visitor to their monument and to the world itself.

It was a declaration well worth noting… as these were the first true gods to step foot upon mortal soil in preparation for the arbiter, Gerechtigkeit. And more were listening than the elven woman alone.

#####

“Looks like it’s go time,” Argrave shouted as he came back upon his group.

They were all reassembled—the Veidimen and their officers, Grimalt, Bastel, and Rasten, the Magisters Vasilisa, Moriatran, and Artur, his cousin and brother, Ganbaatar, and a small yellow cat. Argrave felt a little different, looking upon them. It was likely someone here was flapping their gums to Erlebnis. Who, though? He might have Anneliese go through them piece-by-piece, but there was no time for that, and sowing disunity before meeting with gods invited disaster.

He suspected either Moriatran or Artur. The latter was largely cleared of suspicion, and Argrave needed the former’s strength enough he didn’t dare ruin things by accusing him

“All of you are all packed, but there’s one thing I need you each and every one of you to keep,” Argrave began. “I need you to keep your cool. Staying alive in a fight is one thing, but you do not fight unless fought, and you do not instigate anything,” Argrave waved his finger between them all. “I know all of you are professional, but this time, it’s different.”

Grimalt saluted. “Yes, Your Majesty! We hear and obey!”

The other two Veidimen officers mirrored that, half a step behind Grimalt. Argrave was starting to like the amber-eyed Veidimen the most of his officers, but the other two were reliable enough. As the others gave less disciplined expressions of support, Argrave eventually called aside Ganbaatar, taking the elf for a walk as they talked.

“The Supreme Myriarch… has he changed in the past two years or so?” Argrave inquired. “Chances are, he’s going to be the one we end up dealing with.”

“I’ve been gone from the woods well over a year and a half,” Ganbaatar said. “Even if that weren’t the case, I wouldn’t know. The Supreme Myriarch abandons everything when he assumes the role—name, family, home, pleasure… only the myriarchs of the Tumens even know when the position has changed hands, mostly, and that’s because they elect among themselves. It isn’t hard to guess, but even saying the name of the Supreme Myriarch once he’s in that role is taboo. Unlike kingship, the role isn’t about prestige or power—it’s about duty.”

Argrave patted his shoulder. “All things are about duty with your people. Your commanders whip themselves more than they whip their subordinates.”

“Because time has proven time and time again that leadership can turn incompetence into unmatched ferocity.” Ganbaatar looked back. “Those royal guards of yours seem to know that lesson.”

“You’re calling them incompetent?” Argrave joked.

“No, I’m—” Ganbaatar trailed off when he caught Argrave’s smile. “I see how it is. If there’s nothing more…”

“There is something more,” Argrave stopped him. “I want you to know something. If you play your cards right, you could be blessed by the whole of your pantheon.”

Ganbaatar narrowed his eyes, then laughed. “You must be joking. After what I did at the—”

“What you did stuck in their heads,” Argrave interrupted. “And each and every one of them heard your voice. It anchored them to this realm, lest you forget. They already liked you starting off, too. And blessings… well, look at Orion. They can’t ever be retracted.”

“Why would that be important?” Ganbaatar squinted his red eyes.

“…no, it’s not important,” Argrave shook his head. “Just letting you know about the permanence.”

Ganbaatar stopped as they walked. “If you’re trying to tell me to play nice with these gods… I have my principles.”

Argrave sighed long and hard. “Yeah, I know about your damned principles. Good lord, I’m just letting you know a fact.” He walked back up to the elf and pulled him along. “You’re going to be vouching for me with the Supreme Myriarch. If the man’s the same man I remember, then I think I know how to play this. Best listen closely, now…”

#####

“The elven gods have awakened. I conveyed what the Lord needed conveyed to the centaurs, but I’m uncertain it took root in the whole of them,” Onychinusa explained, speaking to one of the emissaries of Erlebnis. “We’ve contacted all associates in the forest that we could, and measures were taken precisely as instructed,” she relayed.

This emissary was fat and grotesque, far too bulbous to be called human. Yet it still spoke in the same even and passive tone as the rest, saying, “The next two weeks are to be chaotic beyond compare. Alliances shift second by second, faster than can be reasonably perceived. You and Dimocles have been positioned to box in the king. Never forget that role, no matter how the scene changes. And avoid bouts of impulsivity. It would be contrary to our objectives if either the king or queen were harmed…”