Jackal Among Snakes: Book 2, A GameLit Fantasy, page 9
“I presume you already have something in mind?” Anneliese asked.
“You presume right.” Argrave nodded. “I need to have a little chat with a man by the alias of ‘Stain.’ He’s a somewhat unpleasant person.” And a main character, Argrave dialogued internally.
“Strong words from you,” Galamon noted.
Argrave clicked his tongue. “He’s quick-witted, I suppose, but he’s not someone you’d really trust. He’s a rogue, a thief, a swindler, and many other such reprehensible professions. His biggest merit is that he’s got a high position in Jast.” Argrave shrugged. “This may be a dead end. As I understand, he’s inclined to travel a lot.”
Argrave had changed Nikoletta’s course because he’d directly intervened in what occurred to her before the game even began. Melanie was at Mateth and would likely remain there for some time. For the other seven main characters, Argrave could not remotely predict what they’d do.
At the very least, Argrave knew Stain had reasons to stay near Jast. He was one of three characters inclined towards rogue-like professions, and Jast offered many opportunities for such individuals. This came alongside his local ties to the area.
As Argrave was lost in thought, the ward that he’d conjured finally expired, shattering soundlessly into fragments of magic and dissipating into the air. He stared at the magic briefly before tapping his feet against the ground.
“Shopping… I hate to admit it, but I am feeling strangely excited. It’s been such a long time.” Some of Argrave’s giddiness leaked into his voice and he cleared his throat. “Let’s be off to a jeweler’s I know of—no delays. So much to do…”
***
Once Argrave sold yet more of the jewels he’d pilfered from the ruins guarded by the metal things, he went to one of the more reputable and well-guarded inns on the northern side of the town. It still made him uncomfortable the leave their lockbox there, considering the fortune it held.
Argrave made sure to clean himself thoroughly in their washroom, and he finally managed to feel truly refreshed for the first time after their journey into the Cavern of the Lily’s Death. There were few opportunities to clean so distant from civilization as they had been, and Argrave made sure to take full advantage of the time he had here.
When that was done, Argrave put on his now somewhat-worn leather clothing and left the inn with Anneliese and Galamon. Jast was quite a confusing place to navigate. The city was level and many of its buildings looked the same, so Argrave mostly relied on the shop signs to remember where he was. After a few misremembered turns, Argrave finally spotted the horseshoe hanging from an iron fence.
Just behind the iron fence was a simple little house. It looked abandoned and poorly maintained even made of stone as it was. The glass windows had been blown out and replaced with wooden boards. Argrave gave the horseshoe a spin as he passed by it, and it jangled noisily against the fence. He opened the fence’s gate without any hesitation.
“You first, Galamon.” Argrave gestured. “Not expecting trouble, but don’t relax.”
Galamon adjusted his axe and shifted the greatsword on his hip. “I never do.”
“That’s unfortunate,” Argrave commented as Galamon walked by. “Worrying, even. Everyone has to take some time for themselves.”
“Rich words from your mouth,” Anneliese noted as she entered after Galamon.
Argrave entered, shutting the gate. “If I could afford to, I’d be relaxing every day. I have bigger issues. I’m sure you understand.”
“All too well,” she concluded, walking ahead after Galamon.
Argrave followed Anneliese to where Galamon waited at the door to the house. The elf held up four gauntleted fingers, and Argrave quickly processed he meant there were four people inside. Argrave nodded and gestured for Galamon to open the door.
Galamon knocked and, in not half a second, the door shifted open slightly. A chain stopped it from opening too far.
“Token,” a rough voice said simply, two fingers peeking out like a pair of pliers waiting to grasp together.
Argrave reached into his satchel and pulled free the wooden token, handing it to Galamon who passed it on to the doorman. The door shut, and then after a few seconds of locks jangling, opened widely. A man wearing leather armor walked away casually. He was armed, Argrave noted. Galamon took steady steps forward as he ducked into the house, metal boots clanging out and disturbing the silence.
Once they were inside, Argrave shut the door behind them, looking about. Two people sat casually by the house’s boarded windows, watching the outside. They had crossbows loaded with bolts that shone with enchantments hanging idly in their hands. They did not seem to be particularly wary of Argrave or company, instead focused on the outside.
“Here are your things,” the man ahead called out, drawing Argrave’s attention. They walked into what might’ve been the abandoned house’s living room at some point. The man walked up and banged his hands against a wooden crate. He inserted the wooden token into the side of it, and it popped open. He took off the lid and reached in, trying and failing to pull something out.
The fourth man in the house walked up, helping the first haul Argrave’s chest out of the crate. They set it down loudly, huffing. “Heavy stuff. What’s in there? Dead animals? Dead people, maybe?”
“Sure, act like you don’t know…” Argrave kneeled down and popped the lid open. He did a brief examination to ensure nothing was missing, but all seemed intact. The men brought out the bottle of liquid magic next, setting it down.
“Satisfied?” the man inquired. He put the lid back on the crate and jumped up on it, sitting. The other leaned up against it, watching.
“Yeah,” Argrave said conclusively, shutting the chest of books. “There’s another matter I want to employ your little crew for.”
“Is that right? Well, the boss told me to pass on something to you, so let’s get that out of the way first,” the man sitting atop the crate said. “That little lockbox you had your man there carry? Someone’s got a bead on its contents. A local thief—everyone calls him little lord Stain.”
At once, Anneliese cast a glance at Argrave.
“Did he now?” Argrave said with some pleasure apparent on his tone. “And what does he believe is in my lockbox?”
“Jewels, apparently,” the man said with a shrug. “The boss thought you should know. He’s told the men to lay off, but Stain isn’t with our crew, so he might do something stupid. Just a friendly warning from your neighborhood heroes,” the man concluded, spreading his arms wide with a grin. “Now, what’s this business you wanted with us?”
Argrave let a silence take the room for a moment as he ran down the series of events that led to this. The tax collector had to report about an anomaly in the tax collection process. Little lord Stain, well-connected to the bureaucracy as he is, heard about my payment in jewels. He’d be drawn to this, naturally.
“Funny coincidence, this. My business was with him. Have any idea where I might find him, a general direction?” Argrave pointed with his fingers.
“You know him?” the man asked, raising a brow. Argrave did not answer, and so the man continued. “As to where he lives… well, the boss wouldn’t be fond of me running my mouth. I can’t help with this business of yours.”
“I’ve learnt enough,” Argrave said with a smile. “Galamon, grab the chest and let’s be off. It’s been a pleasure, gentlemen.”
Chapter 11
A man walked down the streets of Jast with his head hung low, brown hair covering much of his face. Rather than sad or dejected, he seemed to be lost in thought. He wore somewhat rugged clothing that matched very well with the color of the buildings throughout the city, enough so that it might be impossible to see him at all in the dark.
It wasn’t that I couldn’t swing it. All of them were ready and eager when I told them about the score, but they changed their tune in hours, Stain considered. This guy probably has some ties with the Order here. Maybe he’s a key man between the wizards and the crews. Would explain why he had jewels… Might explain why he was at White Edge. Might be a warehouse.
Stain lifted his head slightly, scanning the crowd ahead. At this point in his life, he’d become very adept at spotting wealth on people. Rings on fingers, jewelry, where they might keep their gold… it was a skill that needed to be honed, just as one had to learn how to take it from them.
No luck today. Waste of time, he concluded about the passersby. His mind wandered back to the mark he’d been considering. Maybe I should go to White Edge, scout things out. It’s clear that the man didn’t want the tax collector going into the village. There had to be a reason for that… Might be worth much more than jewels when all is said and done.
After stopping and looking to be sure no one was following him, Stain turned into an alleyway. He walked quickly, taking winding turns with complete confidence before coming to a run-down portion of Jast. Some of the finely paved street had caved in here. This place had once been a cistern, before the Order had made a more easily accessible place for the people to fetch water.
Stain walked down into the caved-in portion, scrambling over loosely packed rubble. He ducked into a portion that was large enough for him to fit, and then stared out at the underground cistern. The water level had lowered over the years without management, but it was still relatively full. Stain sat, removing his boots and socks. The dagger he’d hidden in his footwear dropped out, and he caught it.
After rolling up his pants, Stain entered the water, disturbing the still underground lake. Holding his dagger and boots above the water, he headed for a faint light on a distant wall. Once he reached it, he climbed up onto a raised alcove just before a simple makeshift door. He looked around a bit.
Looks like one of the lamps broke again, Stain noted, setting his footwear and dagger aside. Cheap junk. He turned and sat on the alcove, waiting for his feet to dry before placing his socks on. He watched the ripples he’d made spread across the cistern’s water.
Without warning, something cold touched Stain’s throat, and he heard a single footstep beside him. His breathing stopped, and he turned his eyes to see a giant of a man holding a greatsword down to his neck. His features were muddled, and Stain saw an iron band on his forehead—a Circlet of Disguise.
“Stand up, enter the door. Test me, you lose fingers,” the man said, his voice low and gravelly.
Stain swallowed, looking between his dagger and the cistern, judging loosely if he still had time to jump in. Getting cut once… should be worth it. I can lose him in the water—he’s wearing plate mail.
“My feet are wet. I don’t want to walk barefooted, and I don’t want to put my socks on when they’re still wet,” Stain spoke nonsense to stall for time.
Stain did not have time to react as the man’s foot struck his chest, sending him sprawling back away from the water. He coughed, winded, and gazed up weakly. He heard the door open.
“Galamon,” a new voice said, somewhat annoyed. “I told you not to be too mean.”
“You also told me he was shifty beyond measure,” the man called Galamon retorted. “He was looking for a way to run. Seen it before.”
The other voice sighed. Stain tried to crane his head to look, but a foot suddenly pressed down on his chest. The one called Galamon stared down at Stain, features indistinguishable because of the circlet he wore.
“Stop it. Don’t make it worse,” the other said urgently. “Just bring him inside.”
***
Galamon tossed Stain against the wall, and the man slowly slid down until he was sitting. The snow elf kept the greatsword in hand, but he no longer pointed it at Stain’s neck. Stain looked young—he was sixteen, Argrave knew. He was the youngest protagonist.
Argrave sat in a chair, watching this all happen somewhat apathetically. He looked around, spotting where Anneliese was idly reading through the various pieces of paper on a desk. She wore a Circlet of Disguise just as Galamon did. They had purchased them on their way here.
There was a busted lever in one corner, and a collapsed stairwell on the opposite edge of the room. There was also a badly worn and poorly constructed bed. Argrave recalled this place well. It was Stain’s little hideout in the game.
“This is where you live?” questioned Argrave. “I can understand the people that want to live humbly despite their wealth, but this is just… filthy. I hate it here.”
Stain caught his breath, slowly correcting his posture until he was upright. His gaze flitted between Argrave and Galamon.
“The whole point of being a thief or a swindler is to make money. What’s the point if you’re living in a place like this?” Argrave asked further. “Just don’t get it.”
Stain raised a finger slowly. “You’re the guy. The… the Wizard from White Edge. Seven feet tall, black hair, elven companions—that’s you.”
“Yes, I think I am ‘the guy,’” Argrave confirmed. He had his own Circlet of Disguise, just as his two companions, but he elected not to wear it at this moment.
“Listen,” Stain said insistently. “Everybody else started to back off from the plan. I’m smart enough to get that message. I stopped planning to search for those jewels.”
“That’s nice.” Argrave nodded.
“You want me to stop sticking my nose in—I get it.” Stain raised his hands as if surrendering. “You’ll never see me again. I’ll stay out of your way. No need for this.”
Argrave leaned forward, placing his elbows on his knees and clasping his hands together. “I’m here because of your other name. Veladrien of Jast. Now, with a last name like ‘Jast,’ one might think you have some ties to the lovely little city.”
Once Argrave said that, Stain paused, taking a deep breath and exhaling. He chose his next words very carefully. “Look. I understand that you might have some business going on in White Edge. Maybe it’s got something to do with the Veidimen—I know they have some operations here, and I remember that tax collector mentioning you were traveling with two elves,” he said, gesturing to Anneliese.
“You might be thinking that, because I’m Count Delbraun’s brother, I might sell you out, get the count’s eye on your business. That is not the case,” Stain said insistently. “That’s not my business, not my nature. I’ve got the mouth of a statue, pal.”
Argrave listened curiously. Evidently Stain was trying to save his life, though Argrave had no intention to kill him.
“Count Delbraun hates me,” Stain said. “The reason why I took the name ‘Stain’ is because he called me ‘a stain on Jast’s honor.’” Stain chuckled nervously. “That’s a true fact—you ask anyone high up in the Riveters. It’s common knowledge.”
“Riveters. That’s the name of the smuggler group, I presume,” Argrave questioned.
“Aye. Rivien’s crew.” Stain nodded. “I live in this charming little lakeside house because I refuse to accept any of my brother’s money. He’d let me live in his… his gilded palace, I’m certain, but he and I are not close at all. He doesn’t care if I live or die. I am not worth your time, I assure you.”
Argrave leaned back in the chair, crossing his arms. “But you’re still a little entrenched in that side of things. How would you learn about the tax collector if you didn’t have some connection to the count? The count received the taxes, after all. You had to learn about the jewels from him or his people.”
Stain started breathing a bit faster. “Aye, I saw the tax collector’s report in Delbraun’s estate, and I spoke to him, but… but everything else I said was true.” Stain pointed his finger to emphasize the point. “Just ask around. You’ll find the truth.”
“So you can get into his estate. Did you sneak in? And be honest,” Argrave cautioned.
“I-I…” Stain trailed off, brain scrambling. “No. I still have access. Delbraun lets me in, mostly on account of my other siblings there. I check his documents sometimes to find things that I might get some people on, skim a little off the top…”
“Well, that’s peachy. Precisely what I need.” Argrave clapped his hands together, the sound muffled by his gloves. “Here’s the thing. You like money.” Argrave pointed. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a pink coin. “I have a great deal of it. Would you like some?”
Stain sat there, mouth agape with his eyes locked on the rose-gold magic coin. He was quick-witted enough to gather himself and respond, “I wouldn’t say no.”
“That’s good. But I’m not a philanthropist.” Argrave nodded and stowed the coin away. “Here’s the thing. I have the sneaking suspicion that the duke of Elbraille, Count Delbraun’s liege, is preparing for war. I need to confirm that suspicion and get all the juicy details about who he intends to support in the civil war. You catch where this is heading?”
Stain’s eyes jumped about as he digested what Argrave had said. Seeing that the three of them were not, in fact, here to kill him, Stain adjusted his posture.
“You want me to get some correspondence between the duke and my brother showing if he has any orders from up high,” Stain laid out, and Argrave nodded. “I can tell you what I know already. Delbraun planned to remain neutral, but lately, Jast has been quietly gathering troops. A lot of the Wizards loyal to the count have already been told not to go anywhere, as their services might be needed very shortly.”
“So they are going to choose a side in the war,” Argrave noted.
“If I were to guess.” Stain nodded slowly. “But nothing’s going to happen for a while. Winter’s coming. No one wants to war during winter, not even with magic making things easier.”
