jackal-among-snakes-16091326
chapter-148

Anneliese stepped through the bizarre palace of the Alchemist, following the purple lights that shone without an obvious source. They guided her through the complex place. Typically, her eyes wandered at times like these, consumed with curiosity, but she was led forward now with a single-minded purpose.

She passed through a threshold into another room. The trail of lights faded. She saw a bed in the back of the room—it was a fancy one, a four-poster bed, hanging curtains of purple fabric with strange designs on them. Its fanciness seemed in stark contrast with the rest of the place.

Anneliese stepped forward towards the bed. She saw a pair of feet sticking off the end, and as she grew closer, she ducked low and looked.

Argrave laid there beneath purple blankets, holding a white book in his hands. It was blank, and he busied himself with filling it out. As she stared down at him, he looked up at her.

“You’re here. Look at this,” he complained. “The man couldn’t even get me a bed large enough for my whole body. You’d think a giant like him would have some sympathy for the people on the taller end of the spectrum, but no. He makes me leave my feet hanging.”

“Argrave…” she stepped closer. “What is… what is wrong with you? I can… I cannot…”

“Oh. He gave me some liquid,” Argrave explained, voice without much vigor. “Not feeling very emotional right now, to put it simply. Should fade. I hope.”

Her eyes darted around frantically, scanning him as she drew closer.

“Take a look at this,” Argrave pulled down the blankets, revealing his pale, bony chest. “Not a scar in sight. You wouldn’t believe how bad I looked not too long ago. I’m a little disappointed, honestly… wouldn’t mind a nice scar, right down the center…” he traced his sternum with his fingers.

Anneliese sat on the purple bed just beside him, eyes locked on him. “But what… what did he… what exactly… how did it… how did it go?” she babbled.

Argrave shrugged. “I’m not sure, really. Apparently, the same potion he gave me to dull my emotions is stopping my new heart from doing its thing.” Argrave touched his chest. “My new heart’s a… I don’t know… it’s a magenta color, I guess, and it glows.” Argrave looked up. “The Alchemist said he’d be back in a few hours when the blood starts pumping. He advised I eat plenty.”

“But how do you feel?” she asked, her speech finally normalizing somewhat.

“Pretty weak. Can’t move much. And I think… and maybe I’m just being delusional…” Argrave looked at himself. “I think I can already vaguely feel the pain coming. The changes.” He shook his head. “Well, whatever. I have to write this report.”

As Argrave raised the book, ready to resume his task, Anneliese practically fell forth atop him, hugging him fiercely. Just as quickly, she pulled away.

“Forgive me,” she apologized. “No, forget that. I am not sorry for being glad you are well. But…” she sighed and lowered her head, white hair splaying out across the purple blankets. “I was worried. I still am.”

“If the ivory man hadn’t filled my veins with apathy-juice, I’d probably be a lot more worried than you are,” Argrave noted. “Well, that sounds a bit dismissive. I’m glad you were worried.” He paused. “That sounds worse, doesn’t it?”

Anneliese laughed heartily, like all the tension built within was being dispelled with each laugh. She stood. “You said the Alchemist is to return?”

“That’s right. Make sure everything is in order, that sort of thing. If I’m to be given a diagnosis of terminal death… it’ll probably come then,” Argrave nodded.

“I will stay with you,” she said. “Who knows what will occur after such a strange happening? You need someone by your side.”

“We discussed—”

“That was my decision. Save your words,” she shook her head.

Argrave stared her in the face. Her amber eyes were steady and determined. He could see how tired she was, yet nonetheless… he sighed, then set his book down.

“Alright. If I start moaning and groaning when my body begins to accept the new blood, don’t make fun of me, okay? I don’t need any shame with the pain.”

She knew he was only joking and smiled as she made for the door. “Write your report. I will get you food, as the Alchemist advised.”

“This brings me back,” Argrave called out, picking up his book once again.

“To what?” she paused at the threshold.

“Me, sick in bed. You, taking care of me, going to fetch food,” Argrave reminisced. “This time stands to last a bit longer than our time in Veiden. Bringing dried meat again?”

She stepped back into the room a little. “Would you like that?”

Argrave raised a brow. “Anything’s fine, little lady, don’t trouble yourself.”

“Hopefully this is the last time I need do such a thing,” she commented. “Though… I have no problem with it.”

“I’ll be as hale as a hare when this is done,” Argrave assured. “Galamon coming, too? The other two?”

She shook her head. “Presumably. I am unsure. I ran off possessed once I was informed of things,” she shook her head. “I will keep an eye out.”

Argrave shook his head, then said in faux sadness, “You learn who your friends really are on your deathbed, looks like.”

“Please do not joke about that,” she shook her head.

Argrave laughed, then picked up his book. “Ought to get back to the slave labor. By the way, could you grab that bronze hand mirror? It’s in my pack just outside.”

Anneliese nodded and moved away.

“Thanks, Anneliese,” he called out.

She waved as she left. Argrave opened the book, trying to find where he’d left off writing.