Jackal Among Snakes - Chapter 644

Chapter 644: Conspiring to Steal Valor

“How were you actually born?” Anneliese asked the horseman on his steed of shadows as they walked through the lifeless Shadowlands.

Other than some mutterings between the ancient heroes—some of whom had become fast friends, after putting aside their desire to genocide the other—Anneliese’s incessant questions to their escort Shadowlander was the only sound permeating this endless dreary place. She was asking questions that Argrave himself wanted the answers to as they charted their course and remade this realm without further intervention.

“I don’t know how I was born,” the rider responded, trudging his steed across the mesas.

He created bridges of shadows to span the gaps between the separate grassy plateaus, allowing everyone present to walk freely toward where the so-called Manumitter awaited. It was there where Argrave would undoubtedly be used as a cudgel against Traugott, to be discarded when the time was right. Though he listened to the exchanges between Anneliese and the black knight, he also formulated ideas for how they could emerge from this all on top.

“You simply came to be, as you are now?” Anneliese pressed.

“No. We are all born as the creatures that you fought against—the lowest of the low. They are the detritus that is expelled upon your world when the Hopeful makes his millennial bargain with the Hopeless. Within our hierarchy, we fight ever upward. When a lesser defeats his better, they are promoted. This brutality maintains the iron will needed to resist the hunger, should the darkness ever fade away.”

They had already established that the Hopeless was Gerechtigkeit, yet this talk of bargains brought Argrave pause.

Anneliese asked the question in Argrave’s head. “Gerechtigkeit—the Hopeless—makes a bargain with your leader?”

“Yes. In exchange for releasing some of this millennia’s detritus—those who could not advance to a higher status in the one thousand years—the Hopeless gives the Hopeful the power to reassert his authority and bring new life into our abyssal realm. We possess a cycle, too. Ours is one where only the greatest rise upward, perpetually. This is all in preparation for the Final Fight, where we will do battle with the hounds of hunger and banish them from our bodies. We need only the best of the best when that day finally comes.”

Argrave agreed with an earlier statement: this was brutal. All of those people that they’d slain here were competing amongst each other to rise higher. Those that didn’t win the struggle were released upon Argrave’s world, where they were exposed to their hunger. Argrave had felt the hounds of hunger. It was only with the Fruit of Being allowing him to ward it away that he’d been able to suppress them. That, and his absurd mind.

Anneliese sounded fascinated as she inquired, “But where does this new life come from?”

“Only the Hopeful and his lieutenants are privy to that information.” A bridge of darkness stemmed out from the rider’s feet, and their party began to cross a valley.

“You’re being awfully forthcoming about that information,” the Rose’s founder, Bhaltair, commented.

“Any information could help you. You’re already dead. Your point of entry will be watched by the Hopeful himself, stopping any escape,” he answered simply. “And you released me.”

Argrave studied him. “You can feel gratitude?”

The rider stopped. Argrave did, too, half a step after. By the time Argrave was going to ask what was wrong, the rider resumed his route. “I must return to the shadows. I need updates on where the Manumitter hides. Continue to progress where I run to, and expect my return shortly.”

With that, the rider ran off ahead, and everyone obeyed his words and followed after while remaining cautious so they wouldn’t be ambushed. Argrave, meanwhile, wondered if their escort meant what he said, or if Argrave’s question of gratitude had scared away the man for some reason. He dismissed the thought, failing to see its relevance.

“I imagine you heard what he said?” Argrave asked Anneliese.

“He said quite a bit,” she pointed out.

Felipe I had the same thought Argrave did, and spoke up. “The Hopeful is going to be watching the point that we came in from. That monster... no disrespect to Argrave’s power—none of us could do a damn thing, after all—but even that monstrous [Apollyon] spell could barely suppress the darkness that thing emitted. I don’t have the highest of hopes about going through him once we’re no longer useful and need to escape.”

“Escape is different than a straight-out fight,” Argrave consoled. “And if you’ll remember, that thing staggered away from me in terror after I showed him the horrors I went through back in ‘Nam.”

#####

Orion stared at the sleeping adopted princess. Elenore stroked Sophia’s hair gently, then pulled up the covers of her blanket and left her there. Then, she walked out, shutting the door.

“You will be a good mother,” he told her.

Elenore stiffened, hearing that. “Pregnancy sounds inconvenient.”

Orion smiled. “I’m pleased you don’t deny it.”

Elenore shook her head, but then looked up at him. “What’s with you? You’ve been awfully reticent, awfully withdrawn. Is it still Vasquer?”

“No, it isn’t Vasquer.” He studied her with his gray eyes. “I never thought the day would come when you would express concern for me. It’s very pleasant.”

“Don’t make me regret it by saying ridiculous things,” she chastised. “What’s wrong, then?”

“I’ve had a feeling budding within. It’s only grown stronger since Argrave left.” Orion shook his head, then looked up to the stars. “I believe my time is coming.”

“What the hell nonsense are you spouting?” Elenore crossed her arms. “Is this about that Fruit of Being? Even without the damned thing, nothing’s ever gotten close to putting you out of our misery before. Stop being ridiculous. You’re in the heart of Blackgard, with gods and the best spellcasters the world over watching over it.”

“All I know is what I feel.” Orion looked at her. “And I feel that death is coming. My intuition is never wrong.”

She sighed and shook her head. “Shame that same intuition couldn’t lead you to the conclusion our father deserved to die before he crippled me.”

“I apologize, Elenore.” Orion dipped his head.

She planted her hand on his forehead to stop him from bowing. “No, no... I didn’t want you to apologize, damn it. I... I shouldn’t keep bringing that up.” She sighed in defeat, almost ashamed of herself. “Listen. I’m better at predicting these things than you, and I’m saying the probability of your death is incredibly low. The only way I see you dying is by doing something stupid. So—whatever comes, if anything... don’t do something stupid. Death can come, for all I care. Just step out of its damn way.”

“And if doing so ends in your death?” He gestured at the door. “In Sophia’s death?”

Elenore shook her head. “And what if a meteor crashed from the heavens and killed us all? Hypotheticals do nothing for us. Just... just act smart, Orion. Despite our differences, I no longer want you to die. I may go so far as to say that I’d like you to live a long time. I rarely hold such sentiments, but there it is.”

“That is heartening.” He nodded solemnly. “I will not compromise. But I will try and think.”

“I know thinking is hard for you, but that’s all I ask.” She smiled mischievously. “Look after Sophia. I have some work to do before I sleep.”

“I will.” Orion bowed his head. “Take care.”

“You as well,” she managed to say kindly, with some effort.CHeCk for new stories on no/v/el/bin(.)c0m