Jackal Among Snakes: Book 1, A GameLit Fantasy, page 4
It was here where complex spells that achieved multi-faceted effects manifested. Fire could be given impactful force, allowing it to provide a concussive impact alongside the flames. Ice could spread across the floor or walls, trapping people where they stood. Wind could form a wall that reflected arrows or other such lesser projectiles. And all of this was completely discounting other branches of magic—blood magic, illusion magic, druidic magic, or even necromancy.
And C-rank spells… Argrave turned his head and opened a thick book. A spell matrix formed from the book, hovering in the air. Though he stared at it, and could recognize that it existed, it was difficult to wrap his head around. It felt blurry. It was a little more than natural—something beyond common perception.
C-rank was where magic departed from the mundane concepts of Earth and deviated into the mystical. It introduced a fourth dimension to a matrix. Four-dimensional things were only theoretical on Earth. Learning one of these spells seemed a stark barrier of steel, standing tall and firm to block his advancement.
Rather than foolhardily trying to break past that barrier, Argrave stopped in his tracks and directed his attention elsewhere: the thesis. It was a difficult thing to approach. Argrave had no illusions about himself—he could not produce original research in the brief time remaining in the month. The key point, though, was original.
An Acolyte was expected to create a thesis to become a full-fledged Wizard, yes, but their findings did not need to be entirely original. They could analyze a system or facet of magic, and that would suffice. Argrave could probably whip together something both from his days writing wiki articles and the recent studies he’d made into the magic system in his new reality.
Argrave was bent over his desk in his chair, singing a little tune as he pondered what, exactly, to write about. Suddenly, a splotch of red covered the empty parchment he sat in front of. He stared at the red drop, utterly perplexed for a moment. Then, another drop fell onto the paper. He saw where it came from this time. He raised his fingers to his upper lip. He pulled them away bloody.
“What is…?” Argrave felt nauseous for a moment at seeing blood, but he kept calm. He stood from the desk to stop bleeding all over good parchment, but the sudden movement made him feel lightheaded. He stumbled and tried to catch himself on the chair but failed. He collapsed to the floor, winded.
Argrave flipped over on his back. He reached into his robe and retrieved his black handkerchief, holding it to his nose as he tilted his head back. After a bit of catching his breath, Argrave started laughing.
“Been a while,” he said aloud, muffled and nasally beneath the handkerchief. “Guess being [Frail] isn’t just a title.”
He couldn’t rightly discern what had caused the nosebleed—stress, maybe, or something simpler—but a small break couldn’t hurt. Maybe even a medium-sized one. Besides, he needed time to think about what he was going to write about.
After a minute or two, Argrave’s arm grew sore from holding the handkerchief in front of his nose. He drew back the cloth and felt his nose. No more blood was flowing. He helped himself to his feet, ensuring that he did so slowly this time. He wiped off his face thoroughly, and then stared at the black handkerchief.
Argrave’s handkerchief had the heraldry of House Vasquer embroidered on it: a golden snake coiled around a silver sword on a black field. The jaw of the snake was covered in blood. A lot of blood. Argrave held the cloth by the corners, as though it were something disgusting. He was about to throw it in the wooden hamper for laundry, but he paused. The blood reminded him of something.
Argrave—or the former owner of his body, at least—devoted his time and effort into blood magic. Most players of Heroes of Berendar agreed that blood magic was very weak in the early stages of the game. Sacrificing vitality for spells was not an especially appealing prospect. Still, blood magic spells were powerful and non-elemental, meaning few opponents could resist them. The spells themselves were somewhat slow, though, and few had usable effects.
Once a player ascended to A-rank in blood magic with a focus on that field, they could do an optional quest to research Blood Infusion. This allowed players to infuse vitality into all spells to increase their efficacy. Low-magic spells could be repurposed into cheap, fast, and highly damaging attacks at the cost of one’s vitality. Blood Infusion alone made learning blood magic worth it for the vast majority of mage players.
Argrave was not naïve enough to assume he could achieve Blood Infusion now. But his task was to make a thesis, and it did not necessarily need to be a proven idea. If he were to write a theory about Blood Infusion, an as-of-yet undiscovered facet of blood magic… that would be more than suitable. It might help get a foot in the door for restoring the terrible reputation Argrave had.
With a smile on his face and his idea of a break entirely forgotten, Argrave tossed the bloody handkerchief into the laundry hamper and strode back to his desk.
“…can’t write too much, though… someone here at the tower might figure it out before I reach A-rank blood magic, discover Blood Infusion first… Would be disastrous…” Argrave muttered.
Like this, Argrave’s focus redoubled. He spent the remainder of his first month on a new plane of reality locked inside his room, avoiding both sleep and uncomfortable questions. Perhaps not much had changed from his days in college, after all.
Chapter 6
The halls of the Tower of the Gray Owl were filled to the brim with people. They were talking amongst themselves feverishly, most with some degree of relief and nervousness on their faces. The Acolytes of the Order of the Gray Owl had sewn seeds, and the time would come soon enough to see if their labor would bear fruit.
Nikoletta of Monticci stood with arms crossed on an empty wall of the tower. Mina of Veden sat at her feet, leaning against the wall in exhaustion. Though a lot of people cast glances their way, few approached. Neither of the two seemed to mind, content with each other’s company.
Nikoletta had spent the month revising the research Argrave had returned to her. Though she wished to find out if Argrave had genuinely been telling the truth—that the crown prince, Induen, had ordered her research stolen—she had no opportunity. Talking with Argrave might illuminate the situation, but she assumed that might have been exactly what he wanted. She disliked playing into other’s hands. So, she chose to remain in ignorance and wait for things to play out.
But the month had passed with utter silence from Argrave’s end. Her friend, Mina, had been caught snooping around his room, but nothing came of it. He had not followed up with either her or Mina, despite claiming he knew it was Nikoletta that had sent Mina ahead. It was all baffling. At this point, she was just curious what Argrave would submit to the Order to advance from an Acolyte to a full-fledged Wizard.
The door that Nikoletta had been keeping her eyes on swung open slowly. Argrave, wearing the same gray robes as every other Acolyte, ducked beneath the doorframe into the hall. He had been quite pale the last time she saw him, but he was deathly pale now—he looked more like a walking corpse than a man walking. His eyes were sunken with deep black marks beneath them. Despite that, he still bore himself with the same neat dignity he had a month ago.
“Gods. He looks terrible,” Nikoletta said out of surprise.
Mina was roused from her exhausted state and followed Nikoletta’s gaze. “Probably waited until tonight to finish his stuff like I did.” Mina stood, grabbing Nikoletta’s robes to help herself to her feet. “Why don’t I get your sympathy? Aren’t I your friend?”
“You also look terrible,” Nikoletta said dismissively. “Happy?”
Mina scoffed. “I wonder if he’ll pass.”
“Worry about yourself.” Nikoletta looked down at the shorter girl.
Mina fixed her messy blonde hair. “I’m always lucky. I’m not worried.”
Nikoletta frowned. “It’s a written submission. You can’t get lucky, Mina. Honestly, I don’t know how you even…”
At the far end of the hall, Argrave walked to the desk where an old man was receiving parcels. He handed the attending wizard a fairly thick stack of papers, neatly wrapped in a black ribbon. After a brief exchange of words, Argrave turned away, pulling at the collar of his gray robes. His eyes scanned the room, stopping on Nikoletta. She tensed up at his gaze. His hollow gray eyes only furthered his corpse-like appearance.
Now comes the time for the favor, she said in her head, hoping it wasn’t true. Argrave walked towards her with long, even strides. Mina grew alert, stepping in front of Nikoletta.
Argrave looked down on the two of them. Even skinny as he was, his height was still somewhat intimidating. Nikoletta kept her dark pink eyes fixed to his gray gaze.
“Your father is sending a carriage to take you back to Mateth,” Argrave said, sparing even greetings.
It was spoken as a fact, but Nikoletta decided it was a question. “Yes, that’s right. Why?”
“I need to go there. May I ride with you?”
“Not going to stay to find out the results early?” Mina asked, stepping between Nikoletta and Argrave.
“It’ll take a week regardless.” Argrave shook his head. “There’s a branch of the Order of the Gray Owl in Mateth. And above all, I’m not worried overmuch about the result.”
Nikoletta scrunched up her eyebrows. “Why ride with me?”
“A ducal heir’s carriage will be comfortable, well-protected, and fast,” he rattled off quickly.
“And Nicky will be forced to listen to you,” Mina said accusatorily.
Argrave grabbed at his throat with his gloved hands. “Is my voice so unpleasant to hear, Mina? How harsh.” He lowered his hand and continued seriously. “At worst, you will hear my snoring. I am tired.”
“The trip itself is a week,” Nikoletta said. “I suspect you won’t be sleeping all that time.”
“You make me sound like a salesman with a shady pitch.” Argrave shook his head. “I just want a free ride to the city, not through life.”
There was quiet as Nikoletta thought the request over. Certainly, there was ample room on the carriage.
“I have no ulterior motive. I just wish for transportation.” Argrave held his right hand in the air, swearing on it.
“Don’t you have friends? Money?” Mina asked.
“Mina, stop,” Nikoletta said, feeling her friend was being over-protective. She kneaded her forehead. “If I refuse, what will you do?”
“Weep, obviously,” Argrave said drolly. “I’m not sure. Probably sleep a night here, eat, and then walk to Mateth. Woe is me, et cetera. It is a long journey, to be true, but I know a good route.” Argrave rubbed his eyes and yawned, fatigued.
“And why do you need to go to Mateth? As a royal bastard, I would assume you have housing in the capital, not Mateth,” Nikoletta reasoned.
“Hah.” Argrave chuckled. “The palace is the last place I wish to be right now. I have a great deal of things to do in and around Mateth. To sum them all up, I would say that I am preparing for the storm.” Argrave raised a brow. “As you’ll recall… my elder brother won’t exactly be pleased by the choices I made. Worry not—I don’t intend to intrude on your hospitality more than this carriage ride. My problems are my own.”
“That sounds important and yet appropriately vague,” Nikoletta said with a sigh, feeling a pang of obligation as he reminded her of what he’d done. “Fine; you may come. But I would be negligent if I did not mention this: if I find you are lying about lacking ulterior motives, you will be cast out.”
“Cast out,” Argrave repeated. “How magnanimous. Thank you, Nikoletta.” Argrave bowed slightly. “I will pack my things. Can’t forget my hand mirror. I must say, it’ll be good to finally get out of this robe.”
Argrave turned and walked away, heading back towards his room.
Mina stepped forward and looked at Nikoletta, shaking her head in dismay. “I’m suddenly having second thoughts about riding with you, Nicky. Why did you agree to this?”
“You of all people should know that rumors are often exaggerated. I don’t know much about him, but he’s at least witty,” she said defensively.
“He hit me with a book!” Mina pointed to her face, but there was no obvious mark—it had been nearly a month, after all. Nikoletta doubted there ever had been a mark to begin with, though. Small books weren’t particularly deadly weapons, least of all when thrown.
Nikoletta sighed. “If you’re that insistent, I can tell him he can’t come.”
Mina faltered now that the burden of decision had been passed to her. She crossed her arms and stepped away for a moment, thinking. “If you’re really fine with it, I suppose I’m just worrying for nothing.”
***
“It seems the world has decided that things will not go my way,” a tall, well-built man in black velvet clothes said.
This man sat at a small round table beside a window, one leg crossed over the other in relaxation despite his words. There was a letter just beside him—on it, a black wax seal depicting a snake marked the message as an official royal summons. Off to the side, there was another letter. It had a wax seal, too, though its was of a bat.
“We should return to the capital, my prince Induen,” someone behind the man counseled; a man garbed in gray, an owl stitched onto the shoulder of his robes. “Argrave… though it is extremely unpleasant, the young lady Nikoletta’s carriage is well-protected. We cannot get him there. I don’t doubt the skill of your royal guard, but numbers decide much. Even if you seek to give him his justice…”
“I don’t recall asking you.” The prince looked back, the light shining on his blue eyes so they shone like sapphires.
The man dipped his head, cowed by words alone.
Induen rose to his feet. “So… the margrave marches to the capital, intending to protest my father’s actions. What a curious thing. He brings a host? I wonder… does he expect to fight?”
Another stepped deeper into the room and knelt down. The speaker was a knight armored in lavish gold. “Yes, my prince. Our own observations suggest as much, even beyond the royal summons from your father. The dust clouds from their cavalry can be observed for miles. Margrave Reinhardt has marshalled all of his personal retinue… yet has not declared open rebellion. Even still, I am uncertain about remaining in southern Vasquer with tensions as they are. The margrave has many friends here.”
Induen stared out the window, tapping one of his feet against the ground. “If I leave now… the taxes won’t be collected.”
The royal guard shared a glance with the kneeling mage just beside him. “My prince… a few hundred gold… can it truly be worth the risk?”
“Do you think my father would so meekly return to the capital?” Induen looked back. “No, he wouldn’t. He assigned me this duty. The people here haven’t paid their dues to the crown. I was sent here to remedy that.”
The spellcaster of the Order of the Gray Owl cast a glance at the message on the table, clearly thinking of mentioning that the king himself had ordered the prince’s return.
Induen rubbed his chin, thinking more. “And how will it look if I allow Argrave to simply… walk all over me? I gave him a duty, and he deliberately disobeyed me. Nikoletta hasn’t been disgraced, as I commanded—as you facilitated.”
The man in gray robes grew fearful, worrying that the prince’s wrath might be passed onto him. The crown prince only shook his head, a faint smile playing about his lips as an idea came to his mind. “Well… things aren’t so bad.”
Prince Induen sat back at the table, turning his chair. “Fetch me some writing implements. If Margrave Reinhardt intends to rebel, and Argrave shows resistance to my designs… well, some problems can be played against each other.” Induen turned his head. “Prepare a fast horse to deliver a message. And be sure that this person won’t be linked back to the crown…”
Chapter 7
Argrave sat atop a velveted cushion, one leg crossed over the other. He was out of the gray robes of the Order and back into ‘normal’ clothes. Argrave only owned black and gold clothing. The two colors were the traditional colors of House Vasquer, and the former Argrave thought himself a true member of House Vasquer despite his bastardry.
After considerable deliberation, Argrave had decided that Mateth must be his first stop. An invasion would occur there. He deemed it hopeless to prevent fully, but Argrave was certain that he could stop it before it spiraled out of control. He might be able to stop it faster than the player could in-game, even. Moreover, it was one of the few places on the continent of Berendar that would not have too many big-shot characters that might end his life early. Altogether, a lovely starting ground.
Argrave balanced a book atop his knee, one thumb stuck on the page to keep it open as he gazed out through the carriage window. A fantasy game world was designed to be pretty, but to see it in person was enthralling. Two days of their journey had already passed, and though Argrave tried to busy himself with studies, he found it difficult to avoid watching the scenery.
He saw a lithe, ferret-like creature in the woods beyond the plains. It had big, yellow eyes. Indeed, much of the time, Argrave could only see its eyes as its fur was all the same green as the leaves. The creature was attributed to the wind. It was called a widlum—a mostly passive creature, but quite fierce.
“See? He’s smiling like he’s got some secret.”
Argrave turned his head from the window and looked at the two adjacent to him. Mina was pointing her finger at him. It was a roomy carriage, but they were still quite close together. A duty of knights patrolled the windows outside, slightly behind and in front of the carriage in order to not impair the ducal heir’s view.
Argrave stiffened his face, the smile he did not know he had fading as though it never was. “I have come to realize you’re rather like a cat, Mina.”
Mina straightened her back and opened her mouth to speak, but Argrave beat her to it.
“See?” Argrave pointed at her the same way she had at him. “Your hairs start bristling like you’ve just been caught sneaking around in the dark of night, just like a cat. You’re slow to trust, and even to those you do like, you aren’t especially affectionate.”
