Jackal Among Snakes
/ Jackal Among Snakes Chapter 82
Published at 14th of December 2022 06:26:36 AM
Chapter 82: The Wider World
“She is too old,” Helmuth said, sitting just beside Elias.
“You've said this,” replied Elias, cradling his head with one hand. “You've said this many, many times. My father married late. This is no different. Stop talking about it.”
Elias, Baron Abraham, Stain, and Helmuth sat around a table, each eating quietly. Stain was more than a little uncomfortable in their company. He felt like he had traded one well-dressed noble family for another, but Elias insisted on having him return to Parbon. At the very least, his presence assuaged his sister Ridia's fears about her new would-be-husband.
Helmuth set his spoon down, and it sunk into the bowl of soup. “It's different now. House Parbon will need many heirs. She is too old.”
“I should marry half a child instead?” Elias lowered his hand. “I want someone to share life with, not someone whom I can make more children with.”
“Delbraun's daughter would have grown older.” Helmuth crossed his arms. “After this war, Parbon will be at the peak of prominence. If you have fewer heirs, Parbon cannot capitalize on this advantage.”
Elias slammed his fist on the table. “Did you forget why my father started this war? This isn't about benefits, isn't about advantages or disadvantages. My uncle sits in the dungeons, bound in chains and starved. The people suffer under Vasquer, who grasps for power like no other.” Elias shook his head. “Get out, Helmuth. I don't want to hear any more of what you have to say.”
Helmuth stared for a moment, and Elias held his gaze. He picked up his bowl of soup and went for the door, leaving quietly. Elias picked up his spoon, ready to resume eating, but Baron Abraham also stood.
“I'm going to go join him,” the Baron said quietly, then left just the same way.
Once the door had shut behind them, Elias lowered his head and sighed.
“You're wound awfully tight,” Stain noted. “I guess I get it. Scary thing, marriage. My sister's a nice lady, though. She's shy, and that's probably perfect for someone like you—all chivalry, all honesty, all sweetness. You'll have her wrapped about your finger soon enough, don't worry.” Stain held his fist up as though cheering him on.
“It's not…” Elias was about to refute, but then sighed once more. “I suppose there is some of that in there. But the reality of what's happening is setting in. War. One of my father's vassals was slain by unknown assailants, half his village burned down. And…” Elias tapped his fingers against the table. “…I'm starting to question if being honest and good is even worth it at all if someone you trusted your future with can't return the favor in the slightest.”
“Heh.” Stain rubbed beneath his nose. “You're starting to see. It's simple—trust yourself and no one else. That's how I was raised. I turned out okay.”
Elias snorted, then crossed his arms. His brows furrowed as though he had a realization. “I guess… I can't really know how Argrave was raised. He might not be a trusting person, and we haven't exactly been close in the past… maybe….” He trailed off, and then shook his head. “Forget it. I need to put this behind me. These next months will be busy for me, I suspect.”
#####
Duke Enrico hunched over a book, his study dimly lit by candlelight. His blue hair was uncharacteristically disheveled, falling over his face in greasy strands. The book was a very old thing, veritably crumbling, and the Duke flipped to the final page. A few moments passed as he read through it. Once he finished, he closed it, sighing.
He leaned back into his chair, eyes closed as he lost himself in thought. The candlelight flickered, wax dripping down the tall white stick in the silent study. A knock came at the door, drawing Enrico from his thoughts.
“Enter,” he called out, voice hoarse from fatigue. The door opened, and his daughter, Nikoletta, stood there, magic lamp held in hand.
“Are you busy, father?” she questioned.
“No, no, never too busy for you,” he said, some vigor returned to his tone at the sight of his daughter. He stood, gesturing to the chair opposite his desk. “Have a seat. What's the matter? It's awfully late.”
After shutting the door, Nikoletta walked in and took a seat as her father had instructed. “I just… couldn't sleep.” She looked across his desk. “What are you reading? Looks… old.”
“I've been looking into that thing Argrave told you of. Gerechtigkeit. Most of these books are from distant lands, translated into our tongue.” Enrico picked one book up. “It's… very difficult to read, poorly translated… yet despite these facts, I have found mention of this entity,” the Duke said seriously. “That, alone, is concerning.”
“So, do you believe it exists?” she questioned. “This ancient calamity?”
“The tales are consistent, the dates are consistent, and the tumult before its appearance… is consistent with what we experience now.” The Duke set his elbows on the table and leaned in, bloodshot pink eyes glowing in the candlelight. “The only thing that isn't exactly consistent is what Gerechtigkeit is.”
“You didn't answer my question, father,” she insisted. “Do you think it's real?”
Duke Enrico said nothing, gaze growing distant as he thought on her question. After a long time of silence, he finally answered, “I think it would be best if we preserve and build our military strength. Because everything that I've read… concerns me.”
“I… see,” she said quietly.
Enrico's eyes stayed locked on her, and eventually his gaze softened. “Speaking of concerning… why are you having trouble sleeping?”
“Oh…” she rubbed her eyes, reminded of her tiredness. “Just… my mind won't stop working. You've recovered, father. Why must I remain regent, especially during the rebuilding of Mateth? I keep stressing, and worrying that I might do something wrong, or…”
“It's precisely because you're rebuilding that you should remain regent,” the Duke said firmly. “I am old, and grow older yet. One day, you will be Duchess in your own right… or perhaps even Queen. It is important that you know rulership well, and there are few better ways to know it than to rule.”
“But if I make a mistake…!”
“I never said you could not ask me anything, Nikoletta,” the Duke smiled. “If you are uncertain, or if you have doubts, I will impart to you all that I know.” Enrico rubbed his hands together, and then, as if reminded of something, added, “I believe it is important to give your children responsibility. This is a lesson you should learn, I think, before Argrave returns and this war is settled.”
“Haha…” she laughed awkwardly, lowering her head.
“That business in Jast established him as firmly opposed to Vasquer, in my eyes.” The Duke leaned back in his chair. “It is a good thing, too. I… after the battle, after nearly dying… it would mean a great deal to me to be able to hold my grandchildren in my arms. I hope you know I'm proud of you, Nikoletta.”
Nikoletta stared at her knees, and Enrico noticed something was amiss. “What's wrong?” he asked, leaning forward.
“I-I… I have something to tell, you, father.” She lifted her head and met the Duke's gaze. Her lower lip trembled as she proceeded. “I don't think… I'm not like…” she trailed off, unable to finish the words.
“What's the matter?” the Duke insisted concernedly.
“I don't think…” she lifted her eyes to the Duke's, examining his features. “I don't know if I'm… ready for this,” she finished.
“Is that what's bothering you?” the Duke stood, walking out from behind the desk. “Listen. When I was betrothed to your mother, I had these exact same thoughts. It was stifling, it was overwhelming, and I felt unprepared.” Enrico kneeled down and hugged his daughter. “The truth is, though, you can't ever be 'ready' for something like this.”
“Yeah,” she muttered weakly.
“But you can't let it consume you,” he said with conviction. “Put it behind you. Move forward. Once you accept it, embrace it, you'll realize that all your fears were for nothing.” He pulled away, gazing into his daughter's eyes. “Okay?”
“Okay,” she nodded.
The Duke nodded in turn, and then stood up. “Maybe you should leave tomorrow to me, take a break. Some time to relax may do you some good. I am still here, despite my plans for the opposite,” the Duke assured. “Maybe you can enjoy some time with Mina? You two are still good friends, from what I know.”
“Mina is going to be leaving soon,” Nikoletta said hollowly, staring at the ground. “She should probably go back to her father's estate. It would be for the best.”
“Really? I had no idea she would be leaving.” The Duke walked back to his desk. “Such a thing would be sensible, given all that's going on. She's welcome to stay as long as she likes, you know.”
“I know,” Nikoletta nodded. “Even still, it would be for the best.”
#####
Argrave and Anneliese sat across from each other. Their postures were uncannily identical—both had a bottle partially full of black liquid at their side, their legs crossed over the other, with a book supported by their knee. That, coupled with their all-too-similar gray leather outfits made quite the picturesque scene in the small carriage, but both of the passengers within seemed to be ignorant of that.
Anneliese looked up from her book. “Did you know about the founder of House Vasquer?”
“What about him?” Argrave answered absently.
“Apparently, he led his armies alongside of a host of snakes, who bit his enemies at his command.”
“Yeah. His 'Legion of Ten Thousand Snakes.' Interesting stuff,” Argrave nodded, but then frowned. “But where did you hear about that?”
She shrugged. “I read it.”
“From what? Where did you get the book?” Argrave insisted.
“I sold some things I brought with me from Veiden, and I bought it.” She shook her head. “I know I should have been learning more spells, but I needed something to break the monotony. Forgive me.”
Argrave was more amazed than irritated, so he shrugged his shoulders and said, “I don't mind, as long as it doesn't take up too much of our time. You might've asked. I would have bought it for you.”
“I know. But it was my interest, not yours, and you do enough already.” She looked down at her book again. “After reading it, I thought to ask you… I wonder if he used druidic magic. I am not so arrogant as to think my people were the first to—”
“Argrave,” Galamon interrupted loudly, tapping the side of the door. “That belltower you mentioned. I see it.”
“Really?” Argrave pulled aside the curtain blocking the window, and looked outside. After adjusting to the sunlight briefly, he saw beyond.
“Ah. There it is. Ritmont.” Argrave proclaimed, leaning out the window. “Take a good, long look. These are to be the last vestiges of civilization we take with into our memory before traversing the treacherous Low Road of the Rose.”
“Have you any escapades planned here?” Anneliese inquired somewhat sarcastically.
Argrave returned back into the carriage. “If you consider spending money an escapade, sure. This time, we'll be buying supplies for the Low Road. Shouldn't take long, and we're still loaded with lucre.” Argrave looked to his lockbox. “We've twenty-seven rose gold magic coins remaining, and much more gold coins in hand. A little higher than I expected, honestly, after the money-sink that was Jast.”
“I know what to buy,” contributed Galamon, driving the carriage outside. “Caving… we'll need plenty of things.”
“I'll trust you for a lot, but the Low Way isn't your average cave. It's hardly a cave. I'd call it an underground world,” Argrave cautioned. “We'll need to prepare differently than you might think.”
Chapter end
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