Jackal Among Snakes

Argrave had déjà vu to something that had occurred not months ago—namely, Margravine Sophia’s campaign to sway the northern nobles rather strongly reminded him of Leopold’s to sway the patricians of Relize. Things were markedly different in the aristocratic circles of the north, yet they remained the same as the patricians in many ways. Instead of wealth and value being the primary concern, it was prestige, lands, and social security dominating their attention.

Argrave had a new, and rather valuable, perspective. He was not operating as King Argrave. Rather, he took up the role of Silvaden, a foreign encroacher and supposed employee of Vasilisa. In effect, he was at the bottom looking up rather than the top looking down. At the same time, he had his hands in the pockets of three of the leading figures—the Magisters present.

Argrave felt like a fish returned to water. Back at Relize, things had been too easy, too safe— he’d achieved his aims, and now he had to sit atop what he’d built and maintain it rather than build it. Here, though, he felt dynamic, alive, and entrepreneurial. And on top of that, he argued for another—House Quadreign. To say the least of things, it was a very personally enriching thing, and Argrave absorbed all that he could.

But the day could not last forever, and eventually many returned to their estates.

“We’ll be keeping a close eye on all of them,” Pavel Drawnwater promised Vasilisa. “We’ll make sure that none of them speak to anyone they shouldn’t be speaking to. We’ll keep a tight ship.”

“…I wasn’t expecting things to end up this way,” Vasilisa shook her head. “Even still… I hope you know House Quadreign will not soon forget the Drawnwaters. My sister is even more generous than I am.”

Margravine Sophia smiled. “I think we will prosper under Argrave—ah, King Argrave, I mustn’t forget. I’ve heard whispers of an institution he intends to establish—a parliament. I believe the king would be willing to give a seat to… well, never mind,” she shook her head, perhaps reminded of Vera and Hegazar’s presence only then. “I’ve heard tell that Vasquer loyalists in the center have gained a slight advantage in the stalemate with the south, while Argrave’s faction subdues Atrus with a mechanical efficiency. It seems these two are destined to clash. With the Order’s support… victory seems preordained for Argrave’s side.”

Argrave furrowed his brows but said nothing on the matter. This talk of the loyalists beating out the south was concerning… but Argrave would have to speak with Elenore to have any certainty on the matter.

“Soon enough, we’ll have a battle of our own,” Vera noted. “I think the plan is rather simple. Hegazar and I will go to meet him, under the ordinary circumstances… you’ll arrive, Vasilisa, as he wants you to… and then we’ll cut off the head. A simple, concise battle.”

“It is his home,” Argrave reminded them. “He’ll have the advantage. His tower was built by the Order of the Gray Owl, and the protective enchantments within more than match those without. Three-on-one isn’t necessarily an advantage.”

“You’re coming too, lest you forget. With surprise and numbers… I’ll say it is an advantage,” Hegazar rebutted. “But I’ll take your concerns in mind… Silvaden.”

“On that note… perhaps we ought to plan,” Argrave suggested.

#####

“I have some insider information about the make of the tower Ivan resides in. And, quite frankly, all of us ought to be very concerned.” Argrave declared to the three Magisters once they were in a private place—another room in the Drawnwater estate. It seemed to be a guest room and had many exhibits out on display coupled with luxury goods to please guests. The family had generously offered to lodge them, but after this conversation they’d all be leaving in order to minimize some risk.

“Why?” Vera stepped up to a drawer in the room, opening it and pilfering a bottle of perfume hidden within. She quickly stowed it in her pocket.

Argrave looked to Vasilisa, trying to act ignorant of Vera’s petty theft. “When you and I went to his tower… you saw that all the walls were covered, right?”

“Yes,” Vasilisa nodded, thinking back. “The walls were covered in furs, silks, all that sort of stuff. The room was so stuffy and warm it was hard to breathe.”

Argrave pointed at her. “My sources tell me these ‘decorations’ are hiding rather elaborate enchantments.”

Hegazar frowned. “We can try and have the meeting elsewhere,” he suggested, examining some of the shelves in the room. He picked up a wooden figurine, twisting it about in his fingers.

“Considering he’s meeting not one, not two, but three Magisters…” Argrave trailed off, leaving his disagreement in the air.

“He’d never hold it elsewhere,” Vera concluded, shutting the drawer and leaning against the table. “What a rather unsavory man.”

“Have you any idea what the hidden enchantments do?” Anneliese asked Argrave, taking a seat on the couch politely.

Argrave sat beside her with a huff. “Enchantment quality has diminished over the years on account of jealous hoarding of precious techniques, and the extinguishment of certain elven civilizations. Order of the Rose stuff, like this…” Argrave raised his arm up and tapped the silver bracer there that stored his vital liquid for blood magic. “Can’t be made anymore. I don’t know specifics, but let’s guess: they’re probably protective, perhaps wards. They won’t be able to enhance his attack, but they can improve his defense. He might be able to use trap spells woven into the stone. On top of that, if he’s sensible, there will be some alarms to notify people of an attack.”

Though Argrave knew those facts from the game, he disguised it under the veil of deductive reason to avoid inquiry. He still felt it best to keep the source of his knowledge closely under wrap—it did him no favors if his past spread, both to his legitimacy as king and his respectability in widespread circles. The peasants might decry him as a body-snatcher, and the prominent would possess a weakness they might exploit. He didn’t trust Vera and Hegazar to keep the secret close.

“I want to talk to Ivan,” Vasilisa said. “I want to ask him some questions… about the ‘why’ of things.”

Argrave sat there, agape. “You want to monologue before the fight? That generally gets people killed, despite what stories might suggest.”

“I want to dialogue,” she crossed her arms. “Haven’t I earned this, Silvaden—no, Argrave?”

“Bottle that foolishness up,” Galamon cut in brusquely from his spot just behind Argrave. “I won’t tolerate a stupid risk because of your unanswered questions. If you talk out of turn, I’ll consider that a cue to start the fight. His Majesty’s safety is paramount. Even his presence is too great a risk.”

Galamon’s deep, guttural voice coupled with his firm words had an authority to them that was psychologically difficult to dispel, and all fell silent.

“Galamon’s seen more battles than all of us combined, then multiplied by five,” Argrave finally broke the silence. “I trust him on this. We go in with a plan, we adapt to any incongruities in this plan, and we execute it as best we’re able.” He rose to his feet. “But we have days to plan. It’ll take some time for Margravine Sophia’s people to prepare to mitigate all of the chaos of Ivan’s death.”

#####

Finding the people suitable for the coup was considerably less time-consuming than preparing for the act itself. Even still, time was of the essence, and they all moved quickly.

For her part, Vasilisa met with Ivan and agreed to expose her debt to Vera and Hegazar to reduce some of it. Apparently, the figure wasn’t small. Nevertheless, Ivan’s supposed generosity did not sway her: Vasilisa was firmly set in her decision.

Argrave was kept abreast of things through Hegazar and Vera. Sophia’s people, amply persuaded, set to work in compromising key positions. The captain of the guard was instructed not to interfere. Prominent spellcasters who had taken residence within Ivan’s tower were supposed to be ‘indisposed’ on that day. Administrative positions were either on the side of the Drawnwater family, or ready to be replaced in the same manner. Ivan’s vassals would be persuaded both by his death and their quick seizure of First Hope, plus a few other… persuasive measures. A coup was less about securing forces more than it was ensuring no opposition arose in the new regime’s infancy.

Vasilisa did make some difficulties on that front—she insisted that no people were killed because of non-compliance. Argrave did agree with her assessment and supported her as best as he was able. It was clearly a point of disagreement between the Drawnwaters and Magister—the margravine had no issues killing the innocent. As compromise, prominent people that did not comply—either from fear of exposure or simple refusal to cooperate—would be imprisoned, to be released once things were settled.

As things were established, the day the act would occur crystallized. So, too, did their method of disposing of Ivan. And now… the day and the method came to them. Consequently, they went.

#####

Argrave had never truly been afraid of the mystic lifts in the various towers belonging to the Gray Owl, yet as he rode up the center of Margrave Ivan’s tower, Vasilisa standing behind him, his trepidation was quite great.

You signed up for this, Argrave reminded himself. You wanted to leave the safety of Relize.

His fear did not have long to build. Soon enough, the stone platform met the inner wall of the tower… and a familiarly decadent room waited beyond, three within its walls. Vera and Hegazar chatted amicably with Margrave Ivan, far from the picture of the ruthless murderers they intended to be.

Ivan looked to them as they stepped within the room. He stayed sitting, as uncordial a host as the first time.

“Vasilisa,” he called out. “You got my message. As expected, you’re here quickly.”

Magister Vera watched them enter the room. Then, she calmly raised her hand in Ivan’s direction, whose gaze faced Vasilisa. A mana ripple split the air, signifying a coming high-rank spell. Ivan’s head whipped around in surprised shock, and he quickly rose to his feet and tried to step back, shouting, “HAAH!”

By the time his shout left Ivan’s lips, Vera’s spell completed. Deafening crackling filled the room as thousands of thick ice bolts exploded from her hands in a steady, continuous surge of power. Her A-rank ascension had a special property that imbued each of the ice spells with another element—on this occasion, she chose lightning. The white spikes and icy blue lightning flew towards Ivan’s face with unrestrained fury and speed, battering the man’s figure in an unrelenting assault. The spell was called simply [Glacial Torrent] and was one of few A-rank spells that could be used in relatively close quarters.

In tandem, golden lights struck out from the walls like lightning of Ivan’s own, and sparking yellow fragments danced everywhere as he was warded from the attack. Lights shone brilliantly behind the furs and silks shrouding the walls as the enchantments came to life, strained. As Vera attacked from her spot, Hegazar rose to his feet and stepped to Argrave, a spell of his own whirling.

Argrave was shielded by illusion magic, and so stepped to a corner of the room discretely. He held his hand out and cast [Bloodfeud Bow]. For the first time, he felt no pain—instead, the spell took from the bracer in his arm, the arrow growing larger and larger in preparation for a deadly attack.

Vera’s spell came to an end, and Ivan rushed away to one corner of the room. Despite that deadly attack from Vera, his forehead was only barely bleeding. The intense glow of the enchantments in the room faded as Vasilisa, Vera, and Hegazar took their places opposite him. Galamon and Anneliese waited just behind, taking no risks.

“Time to die, thief,” Vasilisa declared.

Ivan healed the wound on his head and straightened. “You’re in my tower.”

He pulled back some of the fabric on the wall and touched the stone. At once, all of the fabric was burnt away in a burst of flame. Complex enchantments wound from the ceiling, the walls, and the floor.

“I’ll demonstrate what that means,” Ivan continued.

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