Jackal Among Snakes

A woman wearing gray robes stormed through a messy room, her black hair trailing behind her as she adeptly navigated overturned tables and dressers. She opened drawers, searched through piles of papers. She checked beneath her couch, pink eyes darting from place to place without ever finding something to settle on. Her frantic search led her to check the same place multiple times as though something might’ve simply appeared in her brief absence.

After a long while of fruitless searching, she leaned up against the stone brick wall and slid down it until she sat. The woman was young, barely at adulthood, and had dark circles beneath her eyes that betrayed sleepless nights. She ran her fingers through her long hair, bunching her legs up until she was a ball of stress. She gazed at the stained-glass window in this small apartment room, seeing only the blue sky beyond. She was on the sixtieth floor of this tower—so high up, it would be no surprise to see nothing but sky.

An insistent knock disturbed her thoughts. She ignored it, fingers stroking her scalp a little more firmly. The knock came once more, and the young woman rose to her feet and marched angrily towards the noise. She grabbed the iron ring and pulled the door open.

Though she had opened her mouth to strongly rebuke whoever was knocking, her words caught in her throat. She stared at someone’s chest. She slowly raised her gaze up, meeting eyes with a ridiculously tall man wearing a set of gray robes matching her own.

The pale, gaunt man before her was tall enough the doorframe partially concealed the top of his head. He had gray eyes as steady as stone and wavy black hair that shone like obsidian, just as hers did. Though the gray robes he wore concealed his frame well, his bony fingers hinted at his skinniness. He had a handsome jawline and a sharp brow that made his stare intense. His skin was unhealthily pale, yet unblemished.

“Cousin Nikoletta,” the man greeted with a smooth and calm voice, his hands clasped together before him.

“Uh…” Nikoletta fixed her hair and stood with a straighter posture, stepping back somewhat to see more of him. She kept her foot just behind the door to prevent it from opening further. “Hello, Argrave. I thought you were my friend… forgive my appearance.”

“I’m not your friend,” Argrave noted, stone-faced. “How hurtful.”

“That’s…” Nikoletta scratched the back of her neck. “I didn—”

“I’m kidding,” Argrave interrupted, a grin emerging. “You were expecting Mina of Veden, I presume. That one always seems to hang around you.”

Nikoletta stared at him blankly, unsure of how to handle this situation. Argrave was her cousin, and a close one at that… yet the word ‘close’ did not describe them at all. He was the royal bastard of King Felipe III and she the king’s niece by his sister. That made them kin, yet he was still a bastard. The two had little occasion to interact even when both of them had joined the magely Order of the Gray Owl. During her studies here, she had spoken to him but once.

“May I come in?” Argrave gestured inside when she did not speak.

Argrave’s words brought her back to attention. “Now isn’t a good time. I’m in the middle of something,” she said firmly, grasping the door as though to shut it.

“I wouldn’t come here for a social visit, cousin,” Argrave said cryptically, his grin fading.

Nikoletta’s hand fell away from the door and she took another step back. Outside, people wearing gray robes identical to theirs wandered through the stony confines of the tower. As she sized up Argrave better, she saw a packet of papers pressed firmly in the crook of his arm. After doing her best to disguise her quickened breathing, she pushed the door in and gestured. “Come in.”

Argrave nodded and stepped forward. He failed to duck low enough to pass beneath the door and bumped his forehead. Nikoletta might’ve laughed, but she felt too serious to find the humor in the situation. He cleared his throat in the awkwardness that followed, and then proceeded onward into her room.

Argrave’s cold gray eyes wandered the place, and Nikoletta felt a little embarrassed. Books were scattered everywhere. Crumpled parchments lined the floor. Research materials and equipment were plastered all over the place. Perhaps the only saving grace of this mess was the lack of half-eaten food. Besides Nikoletta’s bed and desk, there was one set of furniture not tossed to the floor in the room—two couches parallel to each other, a low-lying table between them.

Nikoletta walked past Argrave and picked up a stack of books, clearing room for the two to sit on the couches. “Have a seat,” she pointed.

Argrave stared at the dirty couch like it was a snarling dog, gray eyes going dead. “I’ll stand.” He held out a hand to refuse. “I won’t take much of your time, so you can resume what you were doing in short order. Though… I suspect you won’t need to.”

Nikoletta glared at him, gaze flitting between the wrapped documents in his hand and his eyes. She wasn’t slow-witted—he had given enough hints for her to piece things together. She, too, refused to sit.

“Here.” Argrave held the documents out, tired of dancing around the issue. “Your stolen research.”

“Damn it all, you bastard!” she shouted, tearing them from his hands. “I knew it. I knew that you stole it!” She guarded the papers in her arms delicately.

“Well, I am a bastard in a literal sense,” Argrave conceded, fixing the sleeves of his robe. “Figuratively, though, I must disagree. I also didn’t steal your thesis.”

“Ohoh,” she half-laughed. “What, these papers followed you home, showed up at your doorstep begging to be adopted?”

“Half-right.” Argrave shook his head. “I did not steal them. They were given to me by Induen. My half-brother, your cousin, the heir presumptive of Vasquer. You may know him, he’s rather famous,” he said drolly.

She walked a fair distance away and set the papers on her desk angrily. She wanted to open them right now, see precisely what was missing. “You expect me to believe the crown prince took off with my thesis?”

Argrave shook his head again. “No, I imagine he has people for that—thieves and such. Why would he do it himself?”

“I can’t believe someone like you is my cousin,” she said, entirely ignoring his words. “If I—”

“Be quiet for a moment,” Argrave said loudly, calm yet firm. Nikoletta tensed at his voice. “Think. Use your head. Jog your noggin.” He tapped his forehead. “I wouldn’t be returning this if I was at fault. I’m not one for a guilty conscience, and even if I was, I’d use a subtler method.”

Nikoletta stepped forward, crossing her arms. She sized up Argrave, then sighed and sat on the couch. She had to admit… it didn’t make sense. But perhaps that was what she wanted her to think? She couldn’t be sure.

“You’re right,” she finally admitted. “I’ll listen if you have an explanation for this.”

Argrave clasped his hands together. “As I said, Induen gave that to me as a gift. It doesn’t fit, so I’m returning it.”

“My thesis has been missing for a long while,” Nikoletta countered. “Why return it now?”

Argrave stepped a little closer. “Look at it from my view. It’s a gift, but it comes with an implication. He wishes to use me as an Acolyte within the order to suppress you—to suppress House Monticci. There is no greater stain to your house’s honor and legitimacy than expulsion from the Order of the Gray Owl. If I adopt it as my own, I anger Duke Enrico. If I return it, I anger Induen, heir to the throne. Is it any wonder I would deliberate on this matter?”

Nikoletta stared at Argrave, her frown slowly deepening. “But why would Induen try and suppress one of the king’s faithful vassals? My house has never antagonized the royal family. My father is a loyal servant of the realm.”

“Because of your mother.” Argrave pointed at her face. “Being descended from my aunt, King Felipe’s sister, marks you as one of very few with a legitimate claim to the throne of Vasquer.”

With his point spoken, Argrave took a second to breathe. “My… father,” he said reluctantly, “…is old. Succession is a pertinent issue. Induen is a paranoid man who prefers to crush problems before they arise—I’m sure you’ve heard the rumors. But I am no bludgeon, and I will not trample you for my own success or Vasquer’s success. Above all, I don’t need it.”

Nikoletta turned her head away and rubbed her eyes. Certainly, all she knew of Induen suggested he was capable of something like this. And yet… Argrave had chosen House Monticci over his brother, over all of the royal family? Why? Nikoletta could not think of a reason.

Eventually, she lifted her head and mumbled, “…it’s plausible, but… I… don’t know what to think.”

Argrave shrugged. “Then don’t think. Mark me as the culprit, if you wish. But what was yours once is yours again, and that’s ultimately the end to the matter. I didn’t come to ask for a favor or broker a deal. I merely came to do what’s right.”

Her pink eyes locked with his gaze, and both were silent for a time. Then, she nodded. “I don’t know if I can thank you, not for this.”

“How disappointing. I was expecting a tear-filled expression of utmost gratitude,” Argrave said sarcastically. “If I can suggest something, though—buy an enchanted lockbox. They’re designed to keep things safe, especially precious things that might determine your future livelihood. Gemstones, important documents, things of that nature.”

“I know what a lockbox is,” she said in irritation. “Just…”

“Go?” Argrave finished her sentence, already turning around. “If you insist.”

“Hold,” Nikoletta called after him. “If this is true… won’t this cause problems for you? The crown prince is not… merciful,” she said lightly.

Argrave paused, then looked back. “You’re right. He’ll probably want me dead… but that’s the thing, isn’t it? These are problems for me, not for thee. Have a nice day.”

The words caused guilt that Nikoletta could not suppress. Even as she considered the notion this was but an act on Argrave’s part, the feeling remained. Yet without another word, Argrave opened the door and stepped out. Still, he forgot to duck once again and bashed his head against the top of the doorframe. After staggering, he quickly shut the door behind him with embarrassed haste.

Nikoletta stared at the closed door a long time after Argrave had left. Her mind was disturbed by a thousand thoughts. She had not interacted with her cousin much at all. He was the bastard of the royal family, and she the sole daughter of the Duke of Monticci. Even if they were both in the Order of the Gray Owl, there had been little occasion for them to interact. The only situation she recalled was three years ago when she was seventeen.

That said, he was nothing like she remembered. Previously, he had been a reticent and awkward teenager. Though he had the same tall, skinny body that made one question if he was starving himself, his actions now had a neat dignity. As Nikoletta recalled him banging his head against the doorframe, she realized some of that awkwardness might remain. It was oddly endearing, though.

Nikoletta shook her head to get out of her stupor and then turned to the documents Argrave had delivered. She’d still yet to verify if it was truly what she’d lost. She tore off the neatly wrapped strings and pulled off page after page, checking if everything was as she remembered it. After she had gotten to the end of it, her knees buckled and she collapsed to the table, chuckling.

“It’s all there. It’s really all there.” She kept laughing like a maniac for a time as she felt the burden of the world lift from her shoulders.

She had been in a desperate panic the past few days trying to recreate this. Now, her cousin, whom she had only dislike for and firmly believed to be someone of ill character, had simply handed it to her. Not just that, but he’d done it without even requesting a ‘thank you.’ Either something was afoot… or he had changed.

As a matter of fact, it was like he wasn’t the same person at all.

***

Argrave moved into his own room, ducking to be sure he did not bang his head a third time. He turned on his heel and shut the door, moving the bolt into its place to lock it. He stared at the bolt for a long time. Then, his perfect posture crumpled, his legs gave out, and he collapsed onto the stone floor, staring up at the ceiling.

“I guess… this is real,” he whispered to no one in particular.

Grief was a process… or so people had always told him. He found that process markedly different as he grieved his own life. It grew yet more complicated when he was still alive, though in a body not his own and in a world with laws wholly removed from the one he’d departed.

Argrave kept his eyes squeezed shut for a long while, trembling. Then, he reached up to his robes and dug into a pocket. He pulled free a bronze hand mirror with a handle descending from the bottom. Yet where his reflection should have been… Argrave saw an all-too familiar screen.

Traits: [Sickly], [Frail], [Intelligent], [Magic Affinity (High)]

Skills: [Elemental Magic (D)], [Blood Magic (D)], [Healing Magic (D)], [Illusion Magic (D)]

Argrave let the mirror drop from his hand and clatter to the ground. He turned his head to the stained-glass window in the room. Beyond, two fiery orbs shone in the sky, the stars serving as a constant reminder he was on Earth no longer. He was in the world of ‘Heroes of Berendar,’ with its fell monsters, dread plagues, power struggles, and ancient gods. Capping all of that off? A world-ending calamity brewed in the future, like a guillotine above it all.

The player had to deal with all of that. And without fail, this little mirror followed the player through every second of Heroes of Berendar.