Jackal Among Snakes

Orion stepped in front of a large wooden house that was guarded by a great contingent of royal knights. For a few moments, they braced in anticipation of the big man that entered before them. Yet when recognition dawned, one stepped forth.

“Prince Orion?!” the man shouted, infinitely surprised. “You… you’ve returned?” The man took a deep breath, and duty came to the front of his mind. “The king informed us to send you to him as soon as you were found.”

“People say Vasquer is down there,” Orion looked at the man.

Orion and Boarmask passed back through the Burnt Desert, travelling quickly. As time proceeded, Orion felt a sense of urgency—he even carried the knight on occasion to make the journey go faster. And once they passed over the mountains dividing Vasquer from the desert of black sand…

Vasquer. Not the kingdom nor the house, but the snake from which so much of both derived their legitimacy. Though Boarmask had said there was no such thing as a moment of enlightenment and Orion had never found one himself… as soon as he heard the news, his urgency to return to his home redoubled. It felt like a light amidst the tunnel of darkness he walked. This must be the answer he sought.

If any could free him of doubt and indecision, it was surely the one who had started this all: Vasquer.

Once Orion stepped back on the kingdom’s soil, the whispers returned… yet now, they felt strangely alien to him. Indeed, it was difficult to adapt, difficult to sleep. And he did not listen to them. He had another he might receive answers from, another he might find the truth from. And he pursued that goal relentlessly, readily accepting Boarmask’s help to this end. Now, the two of them had been led here by rumors and whispers.

All of that led him here.

“My prince, how did you get here?” another asked, stepping towards Orion. “The king and the guard have been searching for you. Your presence is desperately needed at the palace.”

“Is Vasquer in here?” Orion repeated, unheeding.

“Yes,” one royal knight finally answered, almost off-handedly.

Another knight looked at him angrily, yet quickly stepped up before Orion. “The king has forbidden all to enter here. Please, my prince, return to the palace.”

“The royal family is barred from nowhere,” Orion dismissed, stepping past.

“Orion…!” Boarmask protested, yet followed behind nonetheless.

A struggle ensued, yet Orion was too deeply entrenched in anticipation to heed the words shouted at his ears. Soon enough, he barreled past them all, for none were willing or able to harm him. His feet moved so quickly he seemed to fly down the stairs, leaving light footsteps and disturbed air in his wake. The royal knights soon abandoned their efforts to subdue Orion, and he heard some mention that they should go speak to the king about this.

Soon enough, he came to a final, incredibly steep flight of stairs. He took them as quickly as the others… yet once he passed a certain point, a gargantuan figure entered his view. Golden, coiled, and bound… he saw Vasquer in all her glory. Her size and majesty were so awe-inspiring that Orion’s breath quickened.

His boots, ratty and worn after travelling through the Burnt Desert and back again, impacted with the stairs time and time again, echoing across the vast stone chamber. His steps were slow, and a great nugget of nervousness writhed in his chest like a mole digging through the dirt.

“Orion!” Boarmask shouted, still following. “Or—” his voice cut off as he, too, witnessed the great serpent of Vasquer.

The prince’s feet met the stone chamber housing the great serpent. Rumors dictated she had been trapped and bound by the Bat until very recently. Yet from what Orion saw… she was still bound, still trapped. His feet moved forth almost unwillingly, spurring Orion towards the golden serpent.

Vasquer’s golden reptile eyes followed Orion as he walked, and he knew she saw and perceived him. He felt no horror, no fear, despite the sheer scope of this majestic serpent. It felt as though he walked towards a great protector—a figure of myth that he’d read of for years, manifest in flesh and blood. Boarmask still followed yet made no noise beyond the sound of his plate armor boots pounding against the floor in a steady walk.

Orion’s pace slowed as he neared Vasquer. In turn, the snake’s neck craned, her snout reaching out for his body. He felt drawn to her as iron to a magnet, and his hand raised to meet her. His flesh finally brushed against her scales, and it felt as though he touched gold.

Something strange pushed against his mind. The touch was entirely foreign to him, like a thought not his own persisting in his mind. It was different from the gods’ way, different than his own thoughts… yet even still, its method was familiar. It was like his mother’s touch—curious about him and who he’d become, yet infinitely compassionate.

Nothing had ever felt so right as surrendering to that touch.

All of Orion’s woes exploded out of his mind. It was not like a bursting dam; instead, it was like the dam ceasing to exist in less than a second. His questions, his uncertainties, his self-doubt, his confusion, and his emotional turmoil spilled from his brain, their stagnant waters becoming a flooding river in seconds. He felt a child again, grabbing at his mother’s shins and seeking her comfort from whatever had hurt him.

Vasquer received that all as uncompromisingly as a mother ought to.

What came back to him was a sympathy and empathy so sweet and pure that Orion felt small once again. Unlike the words of men, unlike the whispers of gods… he knew this all was real, he felt it in his very being. He did not know when, but he had collapsed to the ground and huddled against the giant snake like a child, curled up into a ball.

It’s okay to be confused, the comfort came, though not in words. The world is a confusing place. No one can know anything for certain. You’ve had a hard time.

For the first time Orion could ever recall… he felt understood. It was like anodyne to an affliction that had plagued him his entire life. He did nothing but bask in the glow of this unprecedented relief. Vasquer’s scales were cold to the touch, yet the warmest experience he’d ever had. He felt alive, and he felt human. Both were things he did not realize he lacked.

For a time, Orion lost himself in this microcosm of his ancestor’s making. Minutes passed. But as was human nature… contentment alone soon lost its appeal. Orion remembered why he had come here, what had spurred this confusion, and the answers he sought. And he asked Vasquer all of them—his doubts about the pantheon, his doubts about Argrave and his family, and above all… his doubts about his father.

Vasquer showed him caution, planted an image of disaster in his head. The information she gave might hurt him. Orion did hesitate. He had thrown himself into danger on behalf of his ideals in the past, but Orion liked pain and suffering no more than any. Vasquer had given him his comfort. Now was the time for truth, painful though it might be.

And so the truth came.

Felipe I… Vasquer, this great serpent before him… they had never come to Berendar to forge a kingdom. They came as protectors, defenders of the world. They sought to establish a bastion against the great evil of Gerechtigkeit.

Orion saw the great calamity they had endured. To call it an apocalypse was to undermine its power. It was, more than anything, death, destruction, and loss. It was the cold scrutiny of judgement. It decided whether this world was worth its continued existence.

And Orion saw how their pure defense of the world was undermined by their own kin. Felipe I and Vasquer… their own children betrayed them. The first son craved dominion over men. He turned protectors into enforcers of his will and declared a kingdom. The second son craved dominion over life. He embraced the unnatural magic of vampirism and went to war with the first son over the kingdom.

Yet the third son… he craved a good, fulfilling life. He pitted the first and second sons against each other, causing betrayals in their ranks and continued disunity until they both perished in their foolish, overreaching ventures. He embraced the help of ninety-six spirits who gave him power. In return, he helped them become gods.

And this union… from him, the great illusion of the Kingdom of Vasquer was born. The war against the elves, the origins of the gods… this third son twisted an ambitious conquest into a war of liberation, and a pact of mutual benefit between himself and the spirits into a blessing from gods divinely anointing him as king.

From the beginning until now, Orion had been basing his life on fiction. The ideals he held so close to his heart were nothing but fabrications to disguise a treachery.

Yet Vasquer did not hate this third son of hers, despite rotting away for so long. He did not know she was bound here. And even beyond that… she did not hate her other children. Vasquer, instead, placed the blame on herself. She knew of the darkness within her children’s hearts yet could not solve their troubles.

She did not wish to make the same mistake with her modern-day descendants. Vasquer hoped that Orion could be pure and righteous, despite all that he’d done at the behest of deceivers.

Once that hope was conveyed, new information came rushing through their link. Orion embraced the souls of his kin—Elenore and Argrave, and their journey here. The truth of them all was laid bare before him. He experienced Elenore’s anguish, her suffering. He experienced Argrave’s desperate struggle against Gerechtigkeit, where every day was fought to prepare against the judgement of the calamity.

And then… he felt something else conveyed through the link. The rottenness of Felipe’s soul. The malice behind everything that he had done. The hatred he bore for himself and others. The pure, unadulterated malevolence behind all his actions.

“Orion!” Boarmask shouted, shaking the prince. “Orion! Please, move, do anything! Royal guards…”

Orion finally opened his eyes and turned to the masked knight.

“Oh, gods,” Boarmask exhaled in relief, half-slumping over the prince. “Finally, you move. Don’t know why in the world I came with you. Royal knights are—"

Orion rose to his feet, seeming to ignore what Boarmask said. Ahead, royal knights entered the chamber.

“I need to speak to my father,” Orion declared levelly.

Boarmask removed his helmet, face full of despair. “You’re sure about that?”

“I’m sure,” Orion nodded.

The knight looked prepared to weep, but he quickly put his helmet back on.

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