Jackal Among Snakes

A few dozen people occupied a spacious stone hall. They looked about the place and spoke to each other in hushed tones so as not to send their voices echoing on the unadorned and immaculate walls brightly lit by yellow magic lamps. There were three sections to this room, divided by two separate and gently sloping stairways. These sections had long, thin, continuous tables in rows with chairs just behind them. They all faced a platform that had two chairs beside each other and a podium before them. There was one double door behind the rows of tables and chairs made of simple, heavy black wood. Its surface bore a carving of a sun with its four rays turning into snake heads at the end.

The door opened, splitting the symbol down the middle as it parted for a new arrival. “All take your places for His Majesty Argrave, sovereign of all Vasquer,” declared a red-headed woman with a scarred face dressed in flamboyant fashion.

The small crowds dispersed, some of them casting glances at the woman and muttering her name—Melanie. She walked into the leftward section, taking a seat of her own beside some people dressed similarly to her. The place she’d just left was soon filled with new arrivals.

The first to step into the hall was a giant knight wearing golden armor. His long and thick single braid of black hair came out the back of his helmet, swaying in the air as he scanned the room. Soon, other royal knights joined him, taking their place in various strategic positions around the room. Content it was safe, Prince Orion stepped aside for the second arrival.

A pale woman with long, straight black hair in a simple green dress followed, escorted by a few knights of her own. She walked quickly, heading down the right aisle with certain steps. People watched her, but she paid them no mind. Princess Elenore took her place at the podium on the platform, and her knights joined the others.

Lastly, an extremely tall man wearing simple clothes of black and gold entered. He was of average build even despite his height and had medium-length wavy hair colored like obsidian. His skin was somewhat pale, but his sharp jaw and strong gaze gave an impression of vitality. King Argrave took the left aisle flanked by half a dozen knights.

Beside the king was a woman shorter than he was, though still taller than most of the knights escorting them. She had long, straight white hair descending to her waist, some of it brushing past elven ears. She wore a modest white dress with amber decorating it at points, complimenting her eyes of the same color. Queen Anneliese had a dignified calm to her, though when she saw the many people watching took a step closer to Argrave almost by instinct. The Magisters of the Order of the Gray Owl watched her curiously, and the nickname ‘Stormdancer’ was muttered by a few.

The king and queen made their way to the platform in the back of the room, and then took the two seats set out for them behind the podium. Orion came to stand between the two thrones, diligently watching as he stood prepared to guard the king and queen at any moment. With the royal family so closely gathered, one could tell by their obsidian-like hair and sharp gray eyes that these three were well and truly kin.

“The king is here.” Princess Elenore looked about the room. “Parliament is in session.”

Many adjusted in their spot in nervousness or anticipation. Argrave stared at the back of Elenore’s head while Anneliese’s gaze wandered the room. A golden bird landed on the queen’s shoulder. On the stone arches supporting the ceiling, black foxlike creatures with big ears lounged lazily, golden eyes half-closed.

“There are forty members in attendance on this day.” Elenore finally continued, her eyes wandering until they fell on a tan-skinned man with golden eyes. Durran smiled brightly at her. She continued disaffectedly, saying, “Some are temporary members. Some are standing in for their liege, who may be busy with governance or other duties. Some represent townships and cities. And some represent the interest of magical practitioners. Nevertheless, each and all of you are bound by a duty to represent the interest of all the people of Vasquer and ensure just governance. Do you so swear?”

A vague chorus of, ‘I do,’ echoed throughout the hall. Loudest of all was Magister Artur. He sat in the front row beside his colleagues, unadorned with fine jewelry and hanging mantle as he usually was. He simply sat, eyes dancing with many colors.

“Before we begin, His Majesty would like to say some words.” Elenore stepped away from the podium, placing her hands behind her back.

Argrave rose from his seat and stepped to the throne. He looked throughout the room for a moment. “I will be brief. The purpose of this institution is very simple. It is stability. It is the beating heart of the country. No matter what occurs elsewhere in the body, the heart must keep pumping. It must stand as the representative of the people before the king, letting their voice be heard and their will felt. In the event of dynastic complications or extended misrule, it must keep beating ever onward.

“Here,” Argrave continued, hand held out grandly. “I will make my will known. And in turn, you will make the will of the people known. Like this, the kingdom governs as it vows to: on behalf of the people. Though you are forty now, that number will expand as this instrument of governance spreads its roots throughout the land. You must ensure lifeblood from the heart enriches every inch of this land. Remember this, if nothing else.”

With that, Argrave gave one final look to the parliament, then stepped away back to his seat. Elenore stepped up and resumed her position.

Elenore looked ahead and said loudly, “The first matter for the parliament’s decision is confirmation of His Majesty’s accession to the throne of Vasquer. If any protest, speak now.”

Silence reigned throughout the hall. Elenore waited a few moments.

“Then His Majesty’s accession is undisputed, and King Argrave is confirmed as the sovereign of all Vasquer.” Elenore grabbed the edge of the podium, then continued, “The second matter for parliament’s decision is the unprecedented situation that occurred last week. The first advent of Gerechtigkeit has reared its head in the edge of the Bloodwoods.”

#####

Argrave and Anneliese were the last to leave the Parliamentary Hall, barring his personal guards. The wide-open vale of what was already coming to be known as Blackgard awaited him, blooming with wildflowers at the beginning of summer. At the distant edges of the valley, the magic architects of Relize worked to fortify this place in preparation for what was to come. They had made tremendous strides. The mountain was a natural shield, and now the sole path from the south was well-guarded, too.

Argrave’s mind whirled as he stared. As things awaken, spurred and controlled by Gerechtigkeit, refugees will come from poorly defended settlements. By land or ocean, we’ll take them all. This place will have to scale from empty plains to megalopolis very, very quickly. If we can’t… tens of thousands will die. And they might anyway, given the unexpected problem in the Bloodwoods…

There were very many concerns to address about Blackgard. This soil was conventionally nonarable at present. Even once Argrave solved that problem, the food supply would have to scale to the massive population influx to be sustainable for at least two years, until the crisis was finished. Accepting so many refugees en masse came with its own slew of administrative problems, most of all the prospect of tensions from uneasy people. Furthermore, it promised to be incredibly difficult to establish a new center of administration for a kingdom that’d focused around Dirracha for several centuries. Coastal access would be a boon, but the coastal village already here would have to be expanded to accommodate grander harbors.

“Are you going to keep staring off into space?” Elenore asked him.

Argrave looked down at her. “Maybe I am.” He looked back at the wooden double door behind him. “I think that went well. You directed them any which way you pleased.”

She crossed her arms. “It wasn’t complicated. They’re scared. Furthermore, your would-be worshippers of the Relizean army are spreading word of your exploits to anyone who listens—you’re well-liked. On top of that, our parliamentary seats don’t want to exercise too much authority—they’re testing the boundaries of this newfound institution.”

Argrave nodded. “I used to be envious of how damned smart you are.”

Elenore narrowed her eyes. “What?”

“Now, I’m hoping you’re a little smarter than I thought,” Argrave finished. “I haven’t made things easy for you.”

“Could anyone have made it easy?” Anneliese asked.

Elenore shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. I can handle it. I can handle them,” she turned her head, watching the distant parliamentary seats disperse. She looked back. “You’ll be off to your wedding, then.”

“Hardly a wedding,” Argrave said somewhat bitterly. “More a business trip than a day of festivity. I finalize things with Dras, get Rowe’s latest revision of my A-rank ascension theory. After all that, we depart to meet with Nikoletta at the edge of the Bloodwoods the day after. Not exactly a honeymoon.”

“You may always renew your vows at a later date, brother,” Orion said, bright voice filled with optimism.

“Veidimen tradition does not call for festivity,” Anneliese reminded Argrave, grabbing his wrist. “And we are not in a position to want for more. Imagine how it would seem, holding some grandiose ball when you preached about Gerechtigkeit’s coming.”

Argrave took a deep breath and sighed, knowing full well she was right. Still, he couldn’t dismiss it from his mind.

“On another note… Durran wishes to speak with you,” Elenore said, her voice tight.

“Did he upset you, somehow?” Anneliese asked, in tune with Elenore’s emotions.

“He always does,” Elenore said with a smile. “I’ll be off. I have to get back to the matter of roads.”

“Good luck,” Argrave left as she walked away.

#####

“You’re leaving?” Argrave asked, somewhat in disbelief.

They were in a small party consisting of Argrave, Anneliese, Orion, the royal knights, Durran, and Melanie. Their group travelled across the grass of the vale, heading for the bridge that led back north so that they could head off to the edge of the Bloodwoods.

“No, I’m asking permission to leave,” Durran rephrased it, pointing both of his hands gauntleted in wyvern scale at Argrave’s chest. “If you can think of a better use for me, I’ll stay. That said, I think my best use would be gathering together some allies and treasures in the Burnt Desert to provide aid.”

“I don’t get it,” Melanie shook her head. “You do all that work getting Elenore’s trust, now you want to head off?”

“She’s got minions of higher pedigree, now,” Durran shook his head, disagreeing. “What do you say, old pals king and queen? Am I permitted to leave?”

Argrave looked to the distant bridge, then sighed. “At least Galamon had a wife to come back to. But you? Looks like everyone’s going home. Did I miss the trend?”

“The trend is that the demons have landed, and everyone is trying their best to pitch in,” Durran walked ahead and spread his arms out. “After that stuff from the Bloodwoods spread around, everyone knows that something is very, very off. From what I hear, your cousin is lucky to be alive. I think I’d do better as a liaison with the Burnt Desert than a glorified assistant to your sister.”

Anneliese looked at him. “Is that all?”

Durran clicked his tongue. “No, it’s not. I was hoping you could brief me about the ins and outs of the Burnt Desert, so that my time there can be… especially fruitful,” he alluded vaguely.

“It’s your homeland,” Melanie pointed out, still ignorant of Argrave’s depth of knowledge. “Why are you asking him?”

“She keeps questioning me,” Durran pointed his thumb at her. “Could you give a royal prerogative to muzzle?”

“I guess I can tell you what I know,” Argrave sighed, ignoring Durran’s joke. “Supposed to be my wedding, but I have to talk about that sandy place. You’re asking a lot.”

Durran frowned. “What’s the big deal? It’s just a marriage.”

“Is nothing sacred here?” Argrave caressed his forehead. “Nobody’s ever heard of grand marital ceremonies?”

Durran responded back with banter of his own, but Argrave barely heard him. Occupying his mind was the coming meeting with Nikoletta—the first in many months, and with her father’s whereabouts still unknown. And even more than that… what happened in the Bloodwoods loomed above, like Gerechtigkeit’s personal response to all Argrave’s efforts.

And the worst part… is that it might be just that.

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