Jackal Among Snakes - Chapter 600

Argrave stood at an elevated place in Law’s Court, looking down at the assembling masses. Though he most preferred single-player games, he had to confess he had some experience with what these people were preparing for: a raid boss. Law was the raid leader, while the majority of the junior partners and some of the seniors were mere participants, each hoping to score a great bounty in the battle to come.

“I say we go now.” Argrave looked back. “All’s ready for our absence?”

Elenore nodded to Argrave. “Yes. Anneliese will be your regent, with ample guards alongside her in light of her magical setbacks. We’ve sent word to Raccomen to expect our presence. What did you learn from that thing in your head, that wiki?”

Argrave started walking, and she joined him. “The page was only a few paragraphs long.”

“Is that unusual?”

“Very damned unusual. It means that someone avoided significant inquiry by Erlebnis, whose very nature revolved around obsessively pursuing knowledge. You achieve that by doing two things—being very unimportant, or being very skilled.” Argrave stopped before a Justiciar, then told Elenore, “The extent of it is this: Lindon is the god of the mind, dreams, and the consciousness. Anything more than that’s beyond my ken.”

“Right.” Elenore looked up at the Justiciar. “Take us to Raven, Law.”

“Of course,” the Justiciar responded, then took off down the hall.

Law’s Court began to distort as they walked, staircases heading down appearing where they hadn’t been before. They descended deep, deep into the depths of the divine realm, and all clamoring sounds they’d heard in moments past began to die. The stairs they came from sealed off one after the other, and Argrave heard clicking noises that sounded like locks. This was where the court kept its criminals. In particular, war criminals.

Finally, the Justiciar took them to an incredibly small door, far smaller than all the ones lining the rest of the place. The pommel of the Justiciar’s weapon was a key, and after opening it, another door awaited them at the end of a small hall. This place was a little like an airlock, ensuring that nothing followed them before they left completely—and it was something truly needed, the Alchemist being what he was.

“Would you mind if I waited outside?” Elenore asked. “Being in a divine realm is more excitement than I care to handle already. The Alchemist...”

“I’d prefer it,” Argrave told her, then stepped into the door. “Shouldn’t be long.”

The door shut behind Argrave. The Justiciar took great care to ensure there was nothing that could slip by it, then walked to the other door. Argrave’s heart beat a little faster as it unlocked the next golden door, then pushed it open. Argrave was expecting something to jump out at them, but nothing like that happened.

The Alchemist stood in the center of the box-shaped room, precisely as Argrave remembered him. Around twenty feet tall, gray skin, lacking a nose, and possessed of a robe made of his own black hair spilling down from the top of his head. Then, in a familiar voice like splintering ice, he spoke.

“You took far too long.”

Argrave walked in with the Justiciar, his eyes scanning the room. Only once he was content nothing was lurking in the shadows, he answered, “Hey, Raven.”

“It’s unwise to call me that. Now, tell me—what have I missed? You must’ve come here needing my help. Sophia’s ability is doubtless beyond your simple mind.”

Argrave took a deep breath, trying not to let that familiar tone and condescension let him lapse into bygone times. “We’re going to take you out of this place.”

“I told you days ago I had excised the Smiling Raven. Fortunately, it seems your fool mind can recognize the obvious, even if at significant delay. Let’s go. I have work to catch up on.” He walked forth, heading for the entrance, but the Justiciar came to attention and planted his large shield down on the ground.

Argrave pointed to the corner, where there was a box-shaped indent in the wall. “I need you to get in the box.”

“Is something amiss, Argrave?”

He turned his head to see Emperor Ji Meng. The rough-hewn general had been polished back into a gem adorning the imperial court. True to his word, the emperor had continued to drink Ebonice tea, totally divesting himself of any magic. He barely had any hand in politics—public ceremonies, nothing more. He was a puppet, through and through, and even reveled in that role. The only iron hand he still had was over his family. That family included the Zen family, now.

Argrave shook his head in response to the emperor’s question. “No. Nothing’s wrong. We’ll be gone, soon.”

“I won’t try anything,” Ji Meng said amiably. And even without Anneliese by his side, Argrave didn’t doubt those words. Well, didn’t doubt them too much. “I’ll just enjoy the fruits of your labor, as I promised I would.”

“Don’t sound too smug.” Argrave straightened his back.

“Why not? I chose correctly,” Ji Meng continued, without dropping a hint of smugness. “I said it’d turn alright if I submitted to you, and then you killed two ancient gods. I have to say, the smartest choice I made. Now, I have all the luxury with none of the fight.”

Argrave frowned. “Just don’t get fat. It’ll be hard to parade you as the glorious emperor if you’re being carried on a palisade creaking beneath your ample girth.”

The emperor only laughed, and Orion walked back up to Argrave. “Ready,” he declared.

“Great. You’ll be carrying a box—it’s extremely heavy,” he explained to his brother.

#####

Argrave watched that crack in the sky far above. There, Kirel Qircassia licked his wounds. Argrave couldn’t say how damaged he was, but with Law and hundreds of others gods clamoring to kick down his door, it was safe to say his day was done. It was just the bright, brilliant distraction the whole world needed for Argrave to slip out, seeking Lindon.

Their crew was small. Argrave, Elenore, Orion, and Rook. Rook was nigh strong enough to be called an ancient god, but he hadn’t yet been tested enough to wear that title confidently. Whatever Lindon attempted, if anything, Rook would surely be enough to handle.

Argrave looked at the golden cube in Orion’s hand, then turned to the portal Raccomen had constructed here in the Great Chu. Infinite realms awaited, and with Raccomen’s permission, they’d be travelling to a place where Lindon was said to dwell.

“Alright, let’s—"

Argrave was about to take a step forward, but then something entered his head. A thought that was neither fully his, nor an interjection like Elenore’s. It was foreign, yet at the same time, it was somewhat familiar.

“Well...” said the voice, deep and rich and full. “You’ve been thinking about me a great deal. An honor, for one so famous to spend so much of his time on me. And these musings of yours... they’re so unusual. Such a rich tapestry of things that shouldn’t exist.”

Argrave tensed up. There was only one name that came to mind—Lindon. And if his thoughts could reach Argrave here, in the heart of Vasquer, it began to make sense why Erlebnis’ file was so thin.

“Mmm... yes, I’ll meet you. It would be rude of me to refuse my blood relative. We’re very distantly related—my niece is your ancestor, after all.”

The moment Argrave wondered what he was talking about, Lindon perceived it as a question.

“You ask me who? Who else? Vasquer,” Lindon said. “Poor taste in mate... indeed, strange taste, given the gap in body types... but a bright girl. Come now, let’s see if you inherited her spark. I think you have, Argrave... or would you prefer Vincenzo?”

Argrave realized who—or perhaps what—he was dealing with. A Gilderwatcher. And apparently, uncle to Vasquer, his family’s ancient matriarch.