Jackal Among Snakes: Book 2, A GameLit Fantasy, page 1
Contents
Political Map
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Chapter 55
Chapter 56
Chapter 57
End
Political Map
Note: territories are marked by colors. It may be difficult to see on a black and white page.
Chapter 1
A lone carriage traveled through the temperate plains of the southern territories of Vasquer. It was just before the beginning of fall, making all the scenery rather picturesquely green. The carriage seemed ordinary enough; wooden, drawn by two horses. There wasn’t much beyond the practical marking its surface, and a simple coachman drove it.
From afar, the robe-wearing coachman seemed plain. If one were to get close, they would realize that the man was well over seven feet tall, built like a bear, and wore plate armor—far from an ordinary driver. Galamon, a snow elf from the northeastern island of Veiden, had a black axe tied to his waist, an unstrung bow resting behind him, and a greatsword resting across his waist as he handled the horses. His white eyes stayed fixed on the road ahead, partially concealed by his hair of the same color. His armor had a great hole in its waist from what must’ve been a devastating injury.
Someone stuck their head out of the carriage. “Turn right at the next chance,” the man directed before slipping back inside.
The denizens of the carriage were not ordinary, either. They both wore leather armor. One was an extraordinarily tall man with black hair like obsidian and gray eyes like muted stone. He was quite gaunt, yet had a sharp brow and a piercing look to him that made his gaze somewhat intense. His name was Argrave, and he was a bastard of the royal house of Vasquer. Or rather, his body was—the soul in his body was not from this land. His soul was from Earth. Not that anyone knew, of course.
The other resident was a snow elf just as the coachman. Her hair was kept very long, to the point it would reach her knees if she stood. It was straight, yet kept in a half-crown braid so as not to get in her face. She had bright, intelligent amber eyes that starkly contrasted with her pale skin and hair. Her name was Anneliese.
Anneliese held a coin in her hand, twisting it through the light passing through the carriage. Though the coin was a metallic pink, its surface shone with a great many colors, twisting with the light. It wasn’t so simple as light reflecting off its surface, though. Its projection of light was indeterminable and unending, twisting to create beautiful images indefinitely. It was, after all, a magic coin.
“How does this coin function?” Anneliese asked.
Argrave took a few seconds to discern what Anneliese was speaking of, and then said, “No one knows. The rose-gold magic coins aren’t made anymore because the method was lost. That’s why they’re valuable.”
Valuable, indeed. When Argrave had come to this realm, he was understandably shocked that what was a game had become a reality. Many action games had some sort of ancient evil, and Heroes of Berendar was no different. With a looming great evil, wars, plagues, and all other things foul… it was enough to overwhelm anyone.
Argrave had been a wiki editor for the game world he found himself in; namely, the world of Heroes of Berendar. It lent him a lot of knowledge about this continent and its denizens, even if the hard numbers of the game no longer existed. Everything was a cold reality, now, with all the freedom of the real world. All of the consequences, too. With the disasters looming in every corner, knowledge was little comfort.
Even still, he had screwed his courage to the post, and set out towards his first monumental task—stopping an invasion. With a lot of foresight, even more luck, and a lot of planning… things had gone better than Argrave ever thought possible. Along the way, he had acquired a small fortune for himself. He couldn’t splurge, though—he had to invest it back into his evil-fighting endeavors, unfortunately. Argrave wished his biggest concerns were still paying rent and college tuition, but now he had to focus on god slaying. One was a tad more stressful than the other, to say the least.
But then, Argrave was no longer alone in his journey. The two with him, Galamon and Anneliese, didn’t know he wasn’t from this world, but they knew he fought Gerechtigkeit, the coming calamity. Circumstances had led him into a deception—both thought he was an agent of an ancient god, Erlebnis. Despite the circumstances, both were steadfast companions.
Anneliese was a potential ally in the original game, Heroes of Berendar. She was one of the fastest growing mages in the entire game. She was a genius; the game even gave her a trait to denote that. She also had near-supernatural empathy—that was, the ability to read other’s emotions. Argrave felt her presence would be a huge boon to all his future endeavors. She was infinitely curious, and Argrave liked hearing himself talk. To say the least, they worked well together thus far.
In addition to her, there was Galamon. He was a vampire, a former general, and a force of nature on the field of battle. He was under contract as a mercenary—in snow elf culture, breaking contracts was unthinkable. Even still, Argrave thought he was ridiculously steadfast and too talented. Galamon was the only reason Argrave had stopped the snow elf invasion unharmed, he was sure.
“Who made these coins?” Anneliese continued, moving the rose-gold magic coin through her fingers adeptly.
“The Order of the Rose, an extinct mage order from the north,” Argrave answered easily. “At one time, they were the only gold coins in Vasquer. As the kingdom grew, the Order of the Rose died off, and their value started to skyrocket over the centuries.”
Anneliese nodded, placing the coin back into an enchanted lockbox alongside mounds of ancient, enchanted jewelry and precious jewels they had taken from the ruins of the tomb guardians. She shut it and locked it. Argrave intended to bring the jewelry within to Jast, a city on their path, to appraise their worth. He had other things to buy there, too.
Both people in the carriage picked up their books once again, reading quietly. Their journey was a very quiet one. Argrave endeavored to learn druidic magic—that was, magic that could control animals. Even now, he controlled a pack of pigeons, using them as scouts for any approaches. Anneliese was devoting her efforts to learning illusion magic. They spoke occasionally, seeking advice from the other. At times, Argrave told Galamon where to go, knowing the terrain almost by heart from his years of playing the game.
Eventually, Anneliese finally closed her book, coming to stare at Argrave. “Are you ever going to tell us where we’re going?”
Argrave looked up. “I told you. Side quests. There are two places we have to visit before we head to Jast. One is a short stop for a spellbook—that’s the last. The other is the Cavern of the Death of Lilies.” Argrave paused. “Or was it the Cavern of the Lily’s Death? It’s been a while…” Argrave placed his handkerchief to mark his spot, and then shut the book.
“Anyway, the cavern’s our first stop. One of four ingredients for becoming black-blooded is in that cavern, and likely the hardest to get. It’ll be immeasurably useful for me, less so for you. It’s a crystal, but it’s more than that at the same time. It’s called the Amaranthine Heart.”
Argrave needed to become black-blooded. Since coming here, he had been plagued with sickness and weakness time and time again. He spared a glance to a bronze hand mirror just beside his leg. It displayed some information.
Traits: [Sickly], [Frail], [Intelligent], [Magic Affinity (High)], [Insomniac], [Blessing of Supersession (MAX)]
Skills: [Elemental Magic (C)], [Blood Magic (C)], [Healing Magic (C)], [Illusion Magic (D)], [Warding Magic (C)], [Druidic Magic (C)], [Inscription (E)], [Imbuing (E)]
[Sickly] and [Frail] were highly debilitating. He needed them gone for the times ahead—primarily because a plague was coming, and he was presently plague-food. Becoming black-blooded would remove both of those traits, and simultaneously make him near plague immune.
“The Amaranthine Heart?” Anneliese repeated, pressing for information. The carriage lurched, and she touched the wall to steady herself.
The heart is…” Argrave spread his fingers out to emulate roots digging into the ground. “It takes root in whatever it touches, then slowly spreads out, constantly absorbing magic from anything near it and turning it into a black liquid. This liquid is pure magic—dangerous when taken in large doses, but it can be drank when needed to recover magic. It’s the closest thing to a magic potion we’ll find. Best to get now, as I’m sure we’ll have need of it in our journey.”
“Interesting.” Anneliese set her book aside, listening closely.
Argrave’s gaze grew distant and his tone became monotonous. “There will be fighting where we’re heading. The cavern is filled with large bugs. It will be extremely unpleasant and nasty. I am not looking forward to adding yet more things to my nightmares.
“Above all!” Argrave continued with renewed vigor. “We can’t take the main roads. We have to be very cautious traveling through the south, what with the war going on. That’s why druidic magic was a blessing to me, though I will admit it is a bit unsettling feeling these birds flying outside the carriage.”
“I am confused,” Anneliese confessed. “With a war going on, will they attack random passersby? It seems we are being unduly cautious.”
“You really don’t…?” Argrave paused. “Huh. Come to think of it, I never told you. I am one of five sons to King Felipe III of Vasquer, and the only baseborn of those five. In the territory of a rebellion against the king, my presence will not be especially wanted, unless it’s as a captive.”
Anneliese’s eyes widened.
“Did I really never tell you?” Argrave asked. “Well… I am the sole royal bastard of this kingdom. Calling me a bastard used to be literal and figurative. Now it’s just literal. Debatably.” Argrave nodded, and then resumed reading his book.
Anneliese looked out the carriage window to Galamon, expression asking silently if this was normally how he was. Galamon nodded, and then turned his head back to the road.
***
Duke Enrico spasmed in his bed as a light coursed around him. He gasped loudly and his eyes opened wide. His hands rushed towards his chest, clutching the simple nightclothes that covered his body. He slowly calmed, eyes darting around the room. His blue hair was greasy and unwashed, and his pink eyes were bloodshot.
A bald old man with a hunched back stood above him. He looked unassuming, but Duke Enrico immediately recognized him as the Tower Master of the Order of the Gray Owl. This man was the leader of the most powerful spellcaster Order in all of the kingdom of Vasquer.
At the same time, the duke’s daughter, Nikoletta, watched with her hands covering her mouth. Her black hair was unruly and messy, and her pink eyes had dark eyes beneath them.
“Dad?” Nikoletta said slowly.
“What’s happened?” the duke said quickly. “The… The…” Enrico tried to get up off the bed, but the tower master held a hand to his shoulder.
“Duke Enrico. The battle is over. The snow elves have been repulsed.” He gently pushed the duke back to the bed. “You are in your bed at the estate.”
Nikoletta lunged forward, tackling her father back into the bed. Castro was surprised, but he stepped back amusedly after a second. Duke Enrico blinked, his hand hovering around his daughter’s back as he slowly discerned what was happening. When he realized the danger had passed, he slowly returned the embrace and settled back into his bed.
“We… won?” the duke said, voice hoarse. “The invasion…”
Nikoletta pushed away, coming to sit on the bed beside her father. “That’s right, Dad.” She smiled brightly. “How do you feel?”
“I feel…” the duke tested his body. “Weak. And… dreadfully hungry. How long has it been?”
“It’s been four days,” Nikoletta told him slowly. “I’ve been serving as regent to repair the city and restore order.”
“We should be…” Enrico closed his eyes, thinking. “…preparing for the next assault.”
“No,” Nikoletta said happily. “It’s over, Dad. The Veidimen won’t be returning. Argrave came through.” She reached forward and grabbed his arms, shaking him lightly.
The duke said nothing for a time, processing the information slowly in the wake of his recent awakening.
Master Castro stepped forward. “There should be no issue with his memory, and his physical condition will improve as long as he eats and moves about. He should eat slowly, so as not to overtax his stomach,” he directed Nikoletta. “Treat him as a prisoner who has been imprisoned for some time without food or water. With that, I will let you two have privacy.”
“Master Castro?” the duke asked. “Why are you here?”
As Castro walked away, Nikoletta explained, “He turned the tides of the battle. He also roused you from your coma.”
Castro nodded, and then exited the room quietly, closing the door behind him. The duke looked around the room, taking in his surroundings. Nikoletta stood from the bed, retrieving some water. “Here,” she said, handing it to him.
“So Argrave… stopped the invasion?” the duke asked incredulously. When Nikoletta nodded, he took a small sip of the water. “I need to reward him.”
“He’s already gone. He said he had more to do,” Nikoletta answered. “He and I spoke regarding… the betrothal you wanted. He seemed amenable to the idea. And… thinking about it more, so am I,” Nikoletta began, fumbling over her words due to the lie.
“You are?” Enrico asked, setting the cup down on the nightstand.
“Yes.” She nodded, staring at the sheets.
“That’s… that’s good news,” the duke said. He let out a laugh. “That’s wonderful, Nikoletta.” Nikoletta lifted her head up to see her father beaming brightly, wiping some tears from his eyes. “You have no idea how happy that makes me. Even from a young age, you never took to any of the boys. A father’s dream, most told me, but I was worried. I thought it might be because your mother… and later, Elwind… both died.”
Nikoletta looked to the floor, rubbing her hands together guiltily.
“Argrave… His actions have changed much in so little time,” the duke said. He reached for his cup and took another drink of water. “He’s the only good thing to come of House Vasquer in the past decades,” the duke said, anger making his voice hoarser. “I never talked… about how your mother died.”
At those words Nikoletta looked up at her father, confused by the sudden change of subject. “You said she died in childbirth.”
“In childbirth? Yes. But between healing magic and research into the subject, such a thing is impossible for the duchess of House Monticci,” Enrico said angrily. “I got her the best care. There was foul play involved. Whether poison or magic, someone had her killed.”
Nikoletta listened intensely, seeing as her father was telling her something she had never heard before.
“As you recall, Induen’s mother died the same way. Felipe’s first wife died ‘in childbirth.’” Enrico pointed with his cup. “King Felipe used to be a good man, and he loved both the people and his wife. When the first queen died during Induen’s birth, he knew just as I do that there was foul play. The people he trusted most—people like me—became his potential enemies overnight. Felipe brought the whole realm under investigation, searching for a poisoner.”
Duke Enrico grit his teeth, his gaze distant as he recalled distant and uncomfortable memories. “Though I helped him as best I could, we came up with no answers. With only two children—his daughter Elenore and Induen—most of his council insisted he move on and remarry.” The duke drank more water.
“Reluctantly, the king turned his focus back to the realm and his children, and the realm was good.” Enrico took a deep breath and exhaled. “Eventually, King Felipe met Valeria, the present queen and Orion’s father. She was perfect in every way, it seemed. Beautiful, ingenious, powerful… They fell in love. At the time, it seemed the couple of the century—the magnanimous widower King Felipe and high society’s star, Valeria of Norden.”
“But Queen Valeria… they say she’s mad,” Nikoletta asked in confusion.
Duke Enrico nodded. “She started to lose her mind after Orion was born; visions, hallucinations, rapid mood-swings, temperamental behavior. King Felipe’s paranoia resurfaced and his cruelty redoubled. He thought someone had done something again. He did everything, completely uncaring of right or wrong, to find out what had happened to Valeria.”
