Jackal Among Snakes

Argrave judged Traugott with cold, calculating eyes, the two of them standing atop opposite roofs with the city square between them. Though they’d not had time sufficient to interrogate Orion as to the source of the humanoid monster lying dead between them, no one else could reasonably be responsible for bringing the Shadowlander to this city. That he helped put an end to it after it’d killed hundreds of Sumner’s men and devastated both the city and the palace only stoked his rage.

But he’s got no magic left, and all my men are around him. I don’t know what effect Ebonice will have on his little shadow, but… Argrave’s eyes jumped around, searching for a way to neutralize this man. He didn’t trust him. When the Magister reached into his pocket and pulled something out, Argrave watched cautiously even as people below cheered for their victory over the Shadowlander.

Traugott folded a piece of paper into a plane, then gingerly cast it forward. It glided perfectly towards them. Argrave was skeptical to the point where he considered conjuring a ward to block it, but Anneliese grabbed his arm.

“It’s harmless,” she assured him quietly, then caught it out of the air.

In that second of distraction, Traugott vanished. Even as Anneliese unfolded the paper, Argrave jerked his head about in paranoia. “This guy…” he muttered beneath his breath.

“Your Majesty!” a voice called out, and Argrave looked down to lock eyes with Sumner. “Elenore has told me about some rats trying to escape from the palace. With your leave, I would catch them,” he promised.

“Rats?” Argrave repeated, kneeling down. “Those loyalists, I imagine. Did she mention anything else? Have they succeeded in their activity?”

“She mentioned nothing of it,” Sumner shook his head.

“Alright. Time is of the essence. Hurry,” he nodded, then rose to look to Anneliese. “What’s on it?” he questioned her, looking at the paper fearfully.

“It is…” Anneliese trailed off, confusion causing her to err. “He wrote an apology.”

Argrave frowned at once. “You’re serious?”

Anneliese handed it to him in way of explaining it, and he took it after hesitating a beat. As her eyes scanned the city, she said, “We have much to do. I saw Galamon on the way down. He might need assistance. And Elenore…”

Argrave read through the letter. Just as Anneliese said, it was an apology. In it, Traugott claimed responsibility for what he did, expressed willingness to make amends, and further hoped that he and Argrave could talk about the information he wrote on the booklet he’d given to Castro someday. If they talked, all would be made clear.

Even as he read, Argrave crumpled the paper in his tight grip. “Total sociopath…”

His eyes danced between the words, looking for purpose or reason behind his actions. What exactly did Traugott want? How much was he responsible for? And squirming in the back of his head, Argrave considered that all of this might be his fault. He had exposed Traugott to things he had no business knowing, and as consequence…

“The day is young, and there is much to do,” Anneliese reminded him.

Argrave took a deep breath and exhaled. “You’re right,” he nodded. “But this can’t go on. Once things have settled down here… I don’t know. I’ll put out a bounty, spread word, enlist Castro’s aid…” Argrave turned his head, where he witnessed a soldier kneeling before a body cleaved in twain by the Shadowlander. “The last thing we need is someone who can do this, then send an apology like it’s nothing at all. He needs to go, and for good.”

#####

Elenore walked through the streets of Dirracha, escorted by some guards of her own capable of casting magic. The city felt such a foreign place in her eyes now, even after her experience with the ancient snake Vasquer. It had been so long since she saw it with her own eyes. She had travelled through and around the city time and time again, blind and maimed… yet now she was back again, whole and healed.

Elenore thought seeing the city again might bring back unpleasant memories of childhood, but the city was devastated to the point it was hard to recall any memories of it at all. Falling debris had either crashed through some roofs or crashed into the cliffs of the mountain. The latter was more dangerous as the debris dislodged other rocks, provoking chain reactions that took dozens of lives in minor landslides. Some buildings were entirely buried. One detached tower had fallen away entirely, collapsing a large bazaar. People picked through its wreckage for one hundred percent discounts alongside others who tried to retrieve bodies for burial.

Despite her quick advisement, Sumner’s forces had not managed to catch Georgina or Rovostar. Not that she blamed them—dealing with the Shadowlander was the pertinent matter, and she would sooner focus all efforts to that front for an assured victory than restrain two decidedly less dangerous people while endangering the other front. And besides… the loyalist incursion had turned out rather well, despite everything.

Elenore fiddled with a golden ring on her hand. It had a sun with four snake heads as rays. Argrave had enchanted it with B-rank wards and distributed it to key military members. This one was Durran’s, but he had given his to her after he returned from his expedition to break the stalemate in Atrus. She thought that was stupid of him—even with this ring, she stood no chance in a real fight. But still, it made her feel safe as she proceeded towards a specific location in her memory. Her head throbbed with every step she took. She’d had migraines, but this pain felt far harsher—the blowback from connecting with Vasquer, she knew.

She came to a set of stairs, and descended down it slowly into a portion of the city that drained off into the sewers. She spotted a pair of big, dirty feet as she moved around, and took her hand off the ring to prepare for whatever would come. As she walked around the rest of the way, she saw a body. Easily seven feet tall, broad frame, emaciated, missing hands… it was Felipe, no doubt. His long gray hair drifted with the light winds, his face towards the sky. The top of his head had caved inwards, and his eyes had been gouged out completely. His body had broken in innumerable different places from the fall. He looked like a doll assaulted by a sadistic child, his limbs bent and broken in impossible manners.

Elenore’s breath escaped her when she laid eyes on her father, dead. Her already-pained head danced wildly, and she held her hand to the wall to ensure she didn’t pass out then and there. She had seen it all from her connection with Vasquer, yet now… now, it was different. But there was another body, too.

Levin had fallen. Tall, pale, and somewhat emaciated… he had landed face-down. And unlike Felipe, he breathed. She watched him with her gray eyes gleaming with caution. After a few moments, his voice came.

“Is someone there?” Levin called out.

Elenore stood, frozen. She looked to her escort, then back to Levin. He remained still. Puzzled and angered, she took some steps forward.

“Someone is there,” he concluded. His voice was weak, barely audible.

“That was quite a funny thing you did, Levin,” Elenore said, embarrassed as her voice shook despite her mocking. “You looked like a flying squirrel with a vengeance. It was very satisfying watching you two fall through the air like stones.”

“Are you… that woman?” Levin asked, still remaining eerily still. “No… I… is that Elenore?”

She walked near and put her foot atop his fingers, trying to make sure he could not cast a spell underhandedly.

“Felipe… father… is he dead?” Levin asked.

Elenore put her full weight on her foot, but Levin did not even stir. Slowly, she answered, “…he’s dead.”

“Hahahahahahahahahahahahahahaaaa!” Levin laughed with a wild satisfaction, then took a deep breath and laughed again.

As Elenore observed his body, she made sense of what happened. She took her foot off his fingers, then nudged his leg with her boot. With no response, she kicked him and turned him over, still remaining cautious of his hands in case this was some trick to cast a spell. Levin’s body flopped limply over. She didn’t know much, but she had heard tell of this affliction. His spine had been injured in the fall. With healing magic, it could be fixed. But she did nothing.

“Oh,” said Levin in surprise. He seemed capable of moving his head, but not much more. “It is you. I don’t really know what’s happening, but I don’t really care, either.”

Elenore observed him carefully. There was a huge cut on his leg. Though somewhat staunched previously, it reopened from the movement and poured blood fiercely in rhythmic pulses. It looked like an artery had been opened.

“You have eyes. That’s not right,” Levin said. “I must… I must be beyond mortality.” He chuckled again. “It’s over for me. That explains why it doesn’t hurt.”

Elenore stared, feeling at a total loss as to what she should do.

“Does this mean you died, too?” Levin continued. “I thought you had things rather well in hand at Argrave’s side. Such a shame,” he lamented. A few moments of silence passed, then he rambled, “I always wondered… what separates me from you? Why did he come to you? We had the same father, and we’ve both killed hundreds to achieve our aims. But I guess… I’m a little less pitiable than you. And a little less useful, to boot. Whether under Felipe’s or Argrave’s assessment, in the end, I’m disposable.”

“You went along with whatever Felipe asked of you. You reveled in your task, murdering infants, pregnant women, and innocent people without batting an eye,” she looked at his blue eyes sternly, unwavering in her hatred. “All for Felipe.”

“I did. I mean, look what happened to you,” Levin said, his words starting to slur. “My big sister… invincible that you are, smart and vital… what choice did I have? Induen, Orion… all of them my betters, and all of them subject to him all the same. I had to do what I did to survive.”

Elenore briefly glanced to Felipe’s corpse. “Then what was this?”

Levin giggled deliriously. “My crowning achievement. I never had my coronation, so… this will… do,” he finished, lips barely moving as the blood left him.

Stepping to her brother, Elenore opened her mouth to speak. As she did, his eyes rolled back and his head fell limp. She stood there, words left unsaid and actions untaken as the pulses of blood coming from his leg lessened in pressure. And at some point… he died.

Elenore stood over Levin, feeling a bit empty. Then, she looked back to her escort. “Let’s go. We can get their bodies later,” she commanded monotonously.

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