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Jackal Among Snakeschapter 390: salvage

Before Argrave stood his top ranks in this expedition—everyone who had some degree of authority. The three Veidimen officers, the Magisters, Mina and the Monticci family, and lastly his family, Orion and Anneliese. These were all people of proven trustworthiness and skill, and he needed precise delegation and execution at this critical juncture.

Seeing them all… he felt some degree of self-loathing for having doubted them. To know that betrayal came from somewhere higher up did disquiet him. Simultaneously, knowing that whatever happened moving forward would be with those he trusted absolutely bolstered his confidence.

Argrave nodded and looked off to everyone else. “We’re going to the coastline of the North Sea, where the ships I called for will be docking tomorrow morning—we can’t sleep, not tonight. I had intended Elenore to send men to help purging the land of the remnants of Kirel Qircassia’s forces, but we’ll make use of them.”

“Make use of them for what? What’s happening?” Nikoletta asked, still out of the loop.

Argrave looked at her and her father. “For starters, we’ll use their ships. You and Duke Enrico will be going back.”

The old duke had barely had the chance to say even three words, but even still he recognized the situation and gave a steady nod. Nikoletta, however, began, “But I want to--!”

“You need to go to Elenore, and you need to deliver her my words exactly as I say them,” Argrave interrupted her. “These are instructions I can’t risk being leaked.”

Duke Enrico put his hand on his daughter’s shoulder. “Listen to Argrave.”

“His Majesty, Duke Enrico,” Orion corrected. “But please, tell us what happened to change our plans so.”

Argrave looked at him and took a deep breath, still grappling with that himself. “Another god has hit the forests. We have to change our response accordingly.”

“And the elven gods?” Vasilisa questioned seriously.

“…we’re lacking critical information,” Argrave said hesitantly. “There is much to work out. For now, go.”

#####

“Going back to the battlefield would be a clear uncooperative signal,” Anneliese advised Argrave. “And as we are now, we can do nothing. The fate of the elven gods rests in their own hands.”

Their party marched for the coastline. The two of them talked in a ward sustained by Anneliese, ensuring none of their conversation leaked out to anyone listening. They could tolerate no risks, not now.

As much as it embittered Argrave, he knew she had a point. Rushing back into things would achieve nothing but firmly placing them on one side of things. For now, regardless of how things played out, it was best to give the image of accepting Erlebnis’ unspoken offer. And so they headed for the ships Elenore sent, where some would turn back. Yet even still, Argrave’s mind drifted back to the battlefield…

“You saw the gods’ power,” Anneliese continued when Argrave said nothing. “Their enemies are strong, but as are they. And each are made even stronger by the power Kirel Qircassia’s partial defeat gave to them.”

He looked at her. “And if Erlebnis is lying about sparing the elves?”

“I saw their retreat. They fight a few emissaries, who fight half-heartedly, I am sure of it. But even if they did not… could you change their Tumens’ fate?” Anneliese said tactfully. “Is there even a way out of this?”

Argrave heard her question and thought it rhetorical… yet nonetheless, his mind worked to grab at answers. “Mozzahr, the Castellan of the Empty, fought against gods deep below the earth in the abandoned cities of the dwarves. Racial dwarves, not like Artur,” Argrave told Anneliese. “Mozzahr fought the gods for a year. And in the end, he won.”

Anneliese looked at him. “You said he invades the mainland at the dawn of the second year.”

“He does,” Argrave nodded. “Down there, in those old, abandoned dwarven cities… well, precisely what’s happening here happened there. Gerechtigkeit saw Mozzahr as a threat to his victory, so he weakened the boundaries between realms, casting that place into chaos with the early advent of gods. And Mozzahr was the victor. That’s one hell of an achievement.”

Anneliese closed her eyes for a brief moment, then opened them again as she almost stumbled over something while walking. “I question why Gerechtigkeit refrained from something like that in Vasquer itself.”

“Maybe he thought I’d respond quickly enough to end it. Kirel had time to build up strength and widen the breach, hidden away in the Bloodwoods as he was. If not for him trying to kill the forest, I might not have noticed at all.” Argrave sighed. “Whatever the case, it doesn’t matter. This is what we deal with.”

“What lessons can we take from that?” Anneliese questioned. “Did the enemies Mozzahr face compare to Erlebnis at all?”

“Honestly, I’m grasping at straws a little,” Argrave paused, looking back to see everyone was following. Their haste had put some distance between him and the main forces, yet Orion still followed a comfortably close distance away. “Christ, this whole venture was straws to begin with… but now, it’s… I don’t know, half-eaten straws.”

“But you will grasp,” Anneliese said confidently. “At what, though?”

Argrave began quietly, “Do you remember when Onychinusa cast that spell on me, the first time we interacted with her?”

Anneliese blinked a few times, then nodded. “You said it was shamanic magic.”

Argrave nodded in confirmation and continued, “And I also said—”

“You also said that the Ebon Cult heralding Mozzahr were prominent users of shamanic magic,” she filled in somewhat eagerly. “And shamanic magic employs spirits, which are fragments of gods. Argrave, does this mean…?”

“Like I told you, I’m reaching,” Argrave cut in a little loudly, hoping to dampen her rising hope. It did no good to raise expectations. “Shamanic magic was useless to me in the beginning. Silvic was the only spirit we saw, and she wasn’t vulnerable to shamanic magic in the slightest. Spirits aren’t abundant. It’s been a thousand years since the last time gods could fragment, and most spirits have found their place far away from the clutches of mortals.”

“But now things are different,” Anneliese followed his train of thought. “Now, we have seen spirits, seen them taken in by the elven gods. But is it enough to turn the tide if we can get them, utilize them?”

Argrave didn’t answer her question. The rest of their force caught up, so Argrave resumed walking, and Anneliese followed eagerly waiting for his answer as he deliberated. “What Onychinusa was trying to do was teleport me to another location. That should give you some indication of how powerful shamanic magic can be. It also uses a highly limited resource that can’t reasonably be obtained until things get… very desperate. Any spirits we’d get, we’d have to make—namely, by the dismemberment of literal gods.”

“I hope that all of this is a preamble to ‘yes,’” Anneliese said hopefully.

“It depends on our ability, our luck, but… yes, I do see a way,” Argrave said quietly, as though to diminish the impact of his words by speaking them softly. “Did I ever mention what Mozzahr was actually fighting down there in the dwarven cities? He was fighting a god of war. Well, perhaps calling Sataistador ‘a’ god of war is doing him a disservice. Every god I can think of knows of him and fears him… meaning he’s either survived as many cycles or more cycles of judgement than any other god.” He looked at her. “That’s why the gods feared Mozzahr, too, after he killed him. You don’t kill an ancient god with luck alone.

“On that note…” Argrave slowed. “I want you to check me if I need checking, Anneliese. Am I making a mistake? Am I… letting pride, letting personal feelings, get in the way of things?” He looked to Orion beyond the ward. “I’m responsible for a lot more than myself, now. That’s what power is. Would it be best to swallow this defeat, bide my time, break these shackles?”

She thought, then posed him a simple question. “Do you think Erlebnis will be entirely fair in his dealings?”

Argrave considered her question. “If he says he’ll do something, he’ll do it, I know that much. And if he wants you dead… well, we’re seeing that firsthand. He claimed to be our ‘our side,’ but Dimocles delivered that message… maybe there was a reason Erlebnis used a human messenger,” he shook his head in disappointment.

“Whatever the case, I am of the opinion it cannot be trusted,” Anneliese advised. “I think Dimocles is right. Erlebnis does know better than you, and if you fell under his wing Gerechtigkeit would surely perish. But the cost… we would be feeling it for generations. He would leave his cold, unfeeling mark on this entire continent. And all of his actions would be for his benefit.” She looked at him with a bitter smile. “If you want that… if you want safety for you, for us… as I said, I will follow you.”

“The easy out,” Argrave said. “Become his champion, save the world… and by the end of it all, leave an empty wasteland behind, exploited to nothingness in service of a higher power. You provide good clarity, you know.” He looked ahead, where the first bit of ocean came into sight. “Then we keep on like this. We can’t kill him, just like we can’t kill Kirel Qircassia. But maybe… maybe he can be repelled. Heh… to think I thought the Qircassian Coalition was my biggest looming enemy.”

“So—get shamanic magic, then return,” Anneliese nodded, seeming a little brighter with the light of hope. “Where might we get it?”

“Elenore was in charge of the teams exploring ruins to collect useful artifacts and knowledge. Nikoletta is going to check in with her, find out if the teams sent out have picked up anything worth using. If we’re lucky, we can rely upon that… but we’ll need a specific set of spells, so I’m not overflowing with optimism. If that falls through, I know a place we can enter. It’s tough… damn it all, it is very tough… but definitely not as tough as the emissaries.”

“It must be near,” Anneliese assumed. “Elsewise, how can we return fast enough to salvage this situation?”

He looked surprised she asked that question, then said with a smile, “How indeed?”

They passed beyond the trees onto the coastline as dusk finally ending, marking the beginning of night.