Jackal Among Snakes - Chapter 208

Chapter 208: Rising Tension in Rest

“You said we would rest,” noted Durran, though he did not complain as he put the white books written by Garm back into his backpack. He fumbled a little on account of his missing fingers, which made Argrave feel guilt once again.

“We will,” Argrave confirmed, resting off to the side while Galamon packed his things for him, accommodating his weakened state. “We’ll take a nice, long rest—believe me, my legs ache much worse than yours, and I want to rest. But half the damn continent knows or will know we’re in this camp, and I don’t care to be a sitting duck so that Induen or anybody else comes here and ruins my day. We’ll go to a secluded place without any watching eyes.” He turned his gaze to Anneliese. “Speaking of, there’s something I want you to do.”

“Alert Mina, have her get away from Induen,” she guessed.

Argrave smiled. “If only everyone could guess my plans as well as you.”

“That might be a problem, actually,” Durran shook his head. “Might make future deceptions a bit more difficult.”

Argrave chuckled but said nothing.

“Alerting Mina will not take long. Half an hour, perhaps,” she nodded, and her Starsparrow jumped to her finger.

“I’ve already told Orion we’re leaving. He’s to return to the capital, put affairs in order, get some stellar armor for the two of you to wear… and then rejoin us at Kin’s End. I don’t plan on travelling again until I’m fully prepared to defend myself—I’ve earned something of a reputation, and all of my brothers are a bit trigger happy. Moreover, I’ll need a B-rank spell to demonstrate to the Order of the Gray Owl that isn’t blood magic. Ancient, forgotten blood magic, at that. Part of the advancement process to a High Wizard, you see.”

Anneliese seemed the most pleased by this news. She was the one constantly encouraging him to take a rest, and stop using blood magic—now, he promised to do both.

Argrave stood. “I know a place. Small village, maybe six houses. Doesn’t receive travelers often, and the residents leave less often. We pay them a few gold, they’ll shine our shoes and feed us grains, I’m certain—but it’s a safe place to hole up, and that’s all I need.” He looked to Anneliese. “But first…”

“I will send the Starsparrow out,” she finished.

#####

“Another day without more deaths, nor registered refugees,” Induen noted, staring down at a document. Mina, standing across from him on the death, tried to read the document upside-down in vain. “It seems we’re doing well.”

It felt strange for Mina to hear the words ‘we’ coming from the crown prince of the Kingdom of Vasquer. She could not deny she had been dreadfully apprehensive about this task that Argrave had given her. Rumors of the crown prince’s temper and cruel tendencies persisted in every territory from the Parbon Margravate in the far south to the vast forests of the Archduchy of Corsare, furthest north in Vasquer.

Mina could not deny that Prince Induen was brilliant. She had spent near two weeks with him by this point, tending to the refugee and plague problem in Veden and beyond. He had a natural affinity for management and rulership. He was adept at predicting how people would act, and how to force people to act. He had an astonishing aptitude with numbers, and anything that entered his memory did not leave it. He could keep track of innumerable factors at once, always maintaining a full picture of any scenario and thereby generating a solution that matched.

But the prince was limited. Sorely limited.

Induen only knew fear and punishment. He would prefer to uproot a dying plant and put something new in its place instead of simply changing the way it was tended to. There were no half-measures with him. Though he could see the merit in other methods, and could apply them if pressed, he never went for bloodless solutions. Part of it was habit, Mina suspected.

The other part… she supposed he simply enjoyed ruthless methods more.

“The disease doesn’t subside,” Mina noted. “We have to keep working at it until people start to get better.”

Thus far, she had managed to avoid his temper by staying business-like. Despite the rumors of his temper, he did not lash out at her when she suggested other methods. She wondered if they were overexaggerated, or if she was simply doing something right.

“You’re right. The disease doesn’t subside,” Induen said. “Same phrase, different meaning. Those that catch it won’t lose it. It’s a permanent affliction, this waxpox.” Induen stood up straight until he towered over Mina. “That’s why they must be killed. It’s the only solution—surely you see that?”

“You have no evidence for that,” she pushed back. Something golden moved in the corner of her eye, but she didn’t dare glance away from Induen.

“There has been not one report of a single recovery,” Induen noted, half-mockingly. “But indeed, I have no evidence they will not recover. I suppose we must wait for everyone to fall sick and die before we take action? Surely one of them will recover…” he laughed.

As he reared back his head in laughter, Mina caught sight of another golden flash. She dared glance away, whereupon she spotted a beautiful golden bird by the window. She was prepared to dismiss it from her mind, too occupied with the temperamental prince to pay attention to a pretty sparrow. Then, she thought back.

That’s Anneliese’s bird, she noted. And as her eyes tracked it, she noticed its action were far too deliberate in drawing her attention to be those of a simple-minded creature.

“I must visit the privy,” Mina declared, standing up.

Induen stared down at her. “A very unladylike declaration,” he derided. “Why do you tell me? Just go.”

Mina did not need to be told more than once. She kept herself from sprinting only because of her company. She opened the door, passing by the royal guards Induen had stationed outside, and entered the courtyard of the castle. She made to a secluded place, whereupon she glanced up at the sky, waiting.

The bird appeared before her as though it had always been there, and Mina’s head jumped back involuntarily. Once the bird settled on her arm, staring up at her, she questioned in a low whisper, “Argrave succeeded?”

The bird nodded—it was a rather adorable action, Mina thought, but the topic was too serious for her to act upon it. The reason that the waxpox had not spread at all the past while was because Argrave had stopped it, she was certain.

“I can go?” she confirmed in paranoia, to which the bird nodded again.

At that, Mina took a deep breath and sighed. “Tell Argrave that his debt is tenfold what he imagined,” she told the bird. Maybe it was her imagination, but it looked amused before simply vanishing. It must’ve been some sort of magical bird, she suspected.

Where to go? Mina mused. I’ll not stick around here once Induen learns the news. Argrave will surely be leaving.

As the answer came to her, she took a deep breath. South. The Margravate, perhaps. Safest place, I’m sure.

With no further thought, she left.

#####

Orion gazed out at the refugee camp. Though the people afflicted with the waxpox still persisted… it caused no more deaths. The steady trickle of refugees seeking his blessing thinned every day. And though he was less busy because of it… he was glad to be less busy.

A convoy had already left, bearing many of his instructions and messages for people at the capital in Dirracha. Soon enough, he would be joining them. Though he had put it out of his mind while focusing on this task… there was much for him to learn of. He knew naught of this rebellion beyond the fact that it existed. Yet rebelling against the divine-anointed royal family… this matter must be resolved.

Yet followers of the faith were not meant to slaughter followers of the faith. He saw no way to proceed without bloodshed. And yet… Argrave might. He had some of Elenore’s cleverness when she had been younger and more vibrant, not crippled as she was now. He still did not understand why she had to be harmed in such a way, yet it was his father’s decree.

Orion would tend to the duties as a Prince of Vasquer and consult his brother Argrave for advice. His family was the most important thing to him. All of his many parents, his brothers, his sister… yet they were not without issue. They might be mended.

Someone stepped up to Orion as he was lost in thought and knelt before him. He wore heavy burlap robes, mud stained and battered by fast travel.

“My prince,” the man sat, panting.

“What is it?” Orion questioned, not ungently.

The man held his hands up, not daring to look at his face. He held a parchment, some minor enchantments on its surface protecting it—standard practice of the royal family’s messages. Orion took it.

“From Prince Induen, if it please you. I deliver this to you on his behalf.”

Orion pulled free the binding with his big fingers, then read through the document. It took him a long time to read through it all, yet once he did, he lowered it and helped the man before him to stand.

“My brother sent you?” Orion questioned, his tone cold. He gripped the man by the shoulders so firmly he seemed liable to pop.

The man looked scared, but he answered, “Yes, my prince, yes he did.”

“Why is he in Veden? Why does he wish to see me?” Orion demanded.

“As to that… I-I could not say, my prince,” the man said hastily. “I am but a servant to the Count Elgar of Veden. One of Induen’s royal knights pulled me aside, demanded I deliver this.”

Orion narrowed his eyes. “Did you see my brother himself?”

“Y-yes, my prince. He has been in Veden for some time, now, dealing with the influx of refugees and preventing its spread. My prince,” the man added once again, as a show of respect.

Orion finally released the man’s shoulders. He patted him on the shoulders. “You were a good man to bring this to me,” he commended loudly. “Here. Take this.”

He shoved five gold coins into the man’s hand, and then stepped around him without another word.

Orion had a bright smile on his face, white teeth barely showing past his black beard. Induen, of all my brothers, helping to curb the plague? I knew I was not misguided. I knew the gods had a plan for all of us. I must tell him of Magnus, and of Argrave’s triumph. It is not too late for our family.

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