Jackal Among Snakes

“The Blackgard Union is largely a defensive pact,” Anneliese explained to Hause, sitting on a chair before the goddess. “And it has little to do with our pre-existing relationship. Argrave and I have already committed to helping you, and you have agreed to offer some of your services. Should you join, your protection is further guaranteed by the gods that some of us champion.”

This stone chamber had been hollowed out of the mountains surrounding Blackgard, but in the month since its creation, Hause and her followers had made it a true home. Sonia, even despite the poisonous soil in this valley that needed to be purified by fruits from the elven realms, had managed to make this into a grand pavilion decorated with fountains and waterfalls.

Hause was not presumptuous enough to make this a throne room, but there was no denying it was a sort of audience chamber. She wore her pink robes, and her blonde hair was kept beautifully braided by black stone hairpins. Anneliese rather liked the braid, and thought she might imitate it. Her mind wandered to what Argrave would think if she did it like that. She daydreamed about having it styled like that when Argrave returned, tomorrow, to meet with Sataistador. What would he say? Would he like it?

Elenore glanced at Anneliese when she lost herself in daydreams, then picked up the slack, saying, “As Her Highness says, we wouldn’t ask for you to use your abilities to aid them. It’s simply something to better ensure protection.”

“There are many familiar names in this list,” Hause nodded. “Even still, I would speak to the other members of this union, if that is no insult.”

“Of course, I can…” Elenore trailed off just as Anneliese refocused. Her brows furrowed—Anneliese recognized she was likely talking to someone inside her head, using her blessing from Lira. “…I can definitely put you in… contact with them,” she finished, evidently distracted.

Who is talking to her? Anneliese wondered. When happiness lit up Elenore’s features, she presumed it was Durran.

“What a quaint place,” said a man from behind them, and Anneliese turned around on the chair she sat in. Argrave walked through the hall, admiring the tall hedges and flowers of the garden alongside the beautiful fountains. “Every time I leave this place, something wonderful gets made here.”

Anneliese had been so focused on decorum and dignity, trying to uphold her role as regent in Argrave’s absence. All that was tossed to the wind, and she rose to her feet quickly. Her voice rose in pitch with joy as he said, “Argrave!” She rushed toward him, and he slipped his arms behind her and lifted her up. She squeezed him as tightly as she could manage, both of them laughing with the happiness of a reunion. “I had no idea you would return today!”

“It was sudden for me, too.” Argrave set her down gently, then held both of his hands to her face. “Good lord, you have no idea how good it is to see you again.” He pulled her in and kissed her several times, then pulled away and looked at her. “Look at you in black and gold. You’re stunning. It’s like you were made for this whole regent business.”

“He only told me of his return seconds ago,” Elenore complained, coming to stand beside Anneliese. She looked away in exasperation at their overly affectionate reunion. “Though that annoys me… welcome back, Argrave. You’ve interrupted something.”

“We were inducting Hause into the Union,” Anneliese explained, remembering their duty even in the wake of her excitement. “Or, well… just talking about it, I suppose.” She scanned him seriously. “My word… your affliction, that curse, how did it go?”

“Gone. No complications,” Argrave said brightly, looking at Hause beyond her. He appeared a little anxious the longer he stared at her. “But, uh… give me a second.” He split away and walked past her, and Anneliese watched with her arms crossed in confusion.

“It has been a while. I never got the opportunity to thank you for your generosity. Far be it from me to interrupt your reunion—you two act unlike any king and queen I have seen,” Hause said with a smile as he neared. “It is refreshing.”

“Thank you,” Argrave accepted the compliment graciously. “Not to be abrupt, but… Raven wants to talk to you.”

Hause’s smiling face grew neutral, and she looked around to be sure that none of her people were listening. “To me alone? Or to all of us?”

“Just you,” Argrave clarified. Pity flashed across his face. “You’re the only one he has something to say to.”

Hause nodded slowly. “That’s… disappointing. Still, I will speak to him. Is he waiting somewhere, or…?”

“I’ll send him in after we leave,” Argrave nodded. “I’d like to catch up with my family. I hope you don’t mind cutting this discussion short.”

“Certainly not,” Hause shook her head, then held out her hand. “Take your time.”

Argrave shook her hand, then turned his back and walked to Anneliese. He shepherded Elenore and Anneliese along quietly, and as they walked out of this calm and serene garden within Hause’s sanctuary, they passed by the Alchemist standing at the entrance. He did not even watch them as they passed. His eyes were focused solely on Hause. In time, he entered.

“I’m home,” Argrave said. “That’s what I’ve realized. I can call this place my home.”

“Then welcome home,” Anneliese said to him.

#####

The Alchemist looked down at Hause, towering over her. The pleasant sound of rushing water permeated the place. Hause scanned his body closely.

“Argrave tells me you’re hesitant to unlock his party’s potential,” the Alchemist began, placing both of his large hands before him. “That is imprudent. I’d advise you reconsider.”

Hause tilted her head. “After all this avoidance… that is what you wish to speak about?”

“Anything else we might discuss I’ve already solved.” The Alchemist looked to the side. “The device I captured you in… I remade it to contain another.” He tapped his chest. “Me. Whenever Argrave wishes, he can imprison me inside it. So, banish your fears.”

“What?” Hause stepped away in surprise. “Then… your power is another’s.”

“It is. One who retains their reason should I realize my potential ever again,” the Alchemist pointed out.

“And you would ask me to unlock his potential, possibly killing his reason,” Hause crossed her arms. “Raven… you should understand better than anyone the caliber of my mistake. I saw you, and in fear, realized my worst nightmares. You were a good man. Perhaps if you had grown this power naturally, developed it on your own, you might’ve mastered it.” She stepped forward to him, reaching out. “But I interfered, and in so doing, broke the natural order. I cannot ever use my divinity to unlock potential again. I cannot afford to be the cause of so many deaths. Even now, I wonder if I should even continue living, having done what I have.”

“You claim responsibility for the deaths?” The Alchemist shook his head. “You again burden yourself with pointless guilt. What occurred was my fault alone. Your stumble only led to my colossal descent.”

“It should burden you, instead?” Hause questioned.

“It doesn’t burden me. My burden rests solely on ensuring that Argrave succeeds in this road he’s set upon. Has he told you about our objective?”

Hause shook her head. “Only of the Blackgard Union.”

“I know you. You’ve never allied with another. You feared what they might ask of you. Now is the time to put that aside,” he continued.

“Why?” Hause indulged him calmly.

“Because if you do, you’ll never need fight again.”

#####

Argrave tried to avoid being blinded as his black-furred Brumesingers rubbed against his face and licked his ears in their reunion. He wondered why they even had mouths when they ate souls through their eyes, but he supposed that without them, these fennec foxes would not be half as adorable as they were currently being. Argrave stood over a table, surveying items.

“This is some gear,” Argrave mused, grabbing a ring off the table. “This is after Rook got his payment? And all of this is mine?”

“Yes. Most of it is from Erlebnis’ vault,” confirmed Elenore. “Artur remade your coat, your breastplate, and threw in more bits of plate armor made of dwarven metal. He says it should feel like wearing loose trousers, but I didn’t exactly try them on.”

Argrave picked through things. As he did, Artur spoke up.

“These objects you brought aren’t something I can replicate. They were divinity, I’m told. But your armor—and Her Highness’, as well—contain the pinnacle of my enchanting advancements. Dwarven metal can handle enchantments of such a high caliber that I was able to make you into a bona fide monster, Your Majesty.” The Magister hovered over to the table, gesturing toward the boots. “The boots grant you the capability to hover or slow your fall as you need. The greaves and breastplate contain the pinnacle of strength-enhancing enchantments. Physically, they alone would make you a match for just about any fighter beneath the suns.”

Argrave picked up the dark gray coat, holding it out. He could see metal plates within it, keeping it somewhat stiff. And more than that, it had been redecorated decadently. The inside of the coat had been lined with the softest black fur, and the buttons had been replaced with gold sunbursts. The sleeves had elaborate flourishes of gold threaded in.

“And the, uhh… the coat,” said Artur nervously. “I remade it from leather found from some terrifying creature in the underground cities. I’ve had some good men try very hard to cut it. Steel simply won’t,” he explained. “It’s plated with dwarven metal, and given the toughest defensive enchantments I could place on it.” As the Magister talked, Argrave ran his finger across the golden sunburst buttons. “And I also… took some artistic liberties. Your Majesty.”

“Gold jewelry, stylish clothes…” Argrave said, then looked over at Artur. “Guilty pleasure of mine. I’m glad you didn’t put snakes on it. I much prefer the sunburst. This is very excellent work”

Artur looked pleasantly surprised. Melanie commented from the back, “Would you look at that. The king does experience some of the same trappings of mortality. I like it. Buying jewelry for you an easy gift.”

Argrave turned back around. Everyone was fully outfitted in late-game gear, the only absentee at present being Anneliese. This was, barring personal growth, the best they would ever be equipped. Their spells would be more potent than their peers. Galamon and Orion would be able to hold their own against creatures like the Shadowlanders, now. Their only true competition among mortals would be the champions of gods, or those who bore their artifacts. But then, it stood to reason that their competition would be those people. Specifically, a rather huge obstacle threatened to stand in their way.

“As much as I’d love to have a dinner as pleasant as the one I left to, we have to deal with Sataistador and his lakeside date at Dedsworth.” As though sensing his seriousness, Argrave’s Brumesingers jumped down from his shoulders, sitting by his feet quietly. “Let’s save the reunion for another time.”

“Do we have to show up?” asked Durran. “I mean… wouldn’t be the first date that I missed.”

“We’d face the repercussions levied by the White Planes,” Argrave explained. “Gods make deals there for a reason—there are penalties for breaking promises made within them. Since I made the deal, I’d suffer the consequences, but…” he shook his head. “Don’t leave me out to dry, now.”

Anneliese opened the door, walking within. She wore a coat much like Argrave’s own, though hers was white with amber and had different, subtler designs. To say the least, Artur did enjoy the finer side of crafting gear. Argrave sized her up with a smile. She nodded knowingly. “I knew you would like these outfits. What have I missed?”

“Nothing much, just catching up,” Elenore told her. “We’ve been planning for this meeting the whole month, Argrave. Duke Sumner, ruler of Dedsworth, is aware of what comes, and we have all the might we can spare at hand.” Elenore walked up to him. “Sataistador’s one man.”

“One god,” Galamon refuted.

“He does have lips and a tongue,” Melanie reminded them. “And Argrave said he doesn’t know much about him. I can be a pacifist when I need to, and I’d like to be one now.”

“Sure, sure,” Durran nodded. “The god of war and ruthless destruction is a really likely candidate for a civil talk.”

“Let’s get this underway,” Argrave cut in. “Melanie’s right. Sataistador will talk, one way or the other. Because the Alchemist and I have big damned plans after this, and we need to learn what’s inside that ancient head of his.”

#####

Argrave gazed out across Lake Dedsworth. It was a beautiful, thin body of crystal blue water, and one could see all edges of its shore. On the southern end stood Springdrop, the beautiful fortress of House Dedsworth. Its drop-shaped roofs to its towers and beautiful marble walls made it as much a work of art as it was a fortress. Even still, Argrave spotted remnants of battles fought and won. Dead knights, dead creatures, dead evils… and even a site of battle that Durran had endured in his godslaying journeys.

All of Durran’s wyvern riders circled around. Many Magisters of the Order of the Gray Owl watched from secluded locations. Argrave had an escort of his closest companions, alongside several royal guards armored with weapons forged by divinity. He should’ve felt safer than ever. But he couldn’t deny… this meeting with Sataistador unnerved him.

Argrave was nervous largely because the god was already here. Sataistador kneeled at the lakeside, staring out across the still water. Waiting, watching, and making no moves to be cautious. He was here, waiting for them.

“Kind of expected him to be a giant,” Argrave mused. “Didn’t expect him to stay as large as he is. He’s maybe a little bigger than Orion. Thought he shrunk down in the White Planes to make it easier to talk.”

“You waste time quivering so,” the Alchemist reprimanded him. “Approach, and let us get the answers we seek.”

“Good lord… you never cut me any slack, huh?” Argrave rolled his shoulders, and walked along the sandy beach toward their meeting. Sataistador did not look away from the lake, but he did rise to his feet. With a huge mane of red hair, several weapons strapped along his body, and barbaric leather armor, he seemed every bit of what he was: the first god of war.

When Argrave grew close, Sataistador turned his head and raised his hands up. Argrave braced, ready for a fight as he stared into those mad green eyes of his. Instead, the deity slammed his palms together. A deafening pop rang out as he clapped, so loud that it could be heard for miles and so powerful that the wind shifted.

Clap, clap, clap, the sounds came again and again, as loud as artillery. Sataistador turned to face Argrave. He took steady steps forward. His claps alone were powerful enough that some of Argrave’s enchantments prevented his ears from bursting.

Finally, Sataistador came to stand a comfortable distance away. “Congratulations. You’ve made Erlebnis a fool in the eyes of divinity.”

Though he was partly stunned into silence from the show of strength, he did eventually find his voice. “Thanks,” Argrave returned cordially, glad they were speaking to start this meeting instead of… something else.

“Did you like my gift?” Sataistador questioned with his eyes hauntingly grim. “You probably didn’t know you’d received it. But you will.” He held his arms out. They were probably as wide as Argrave was tall. “Let’s talk. You brought me here because you want something from me… elsewise, neither of us would remember the other. All asks have a price.” He looked at Melanie. “And you should remember that I’m a mercenary.”