/n/jackal-among-snakes-1520/c-197
chapter-196

Argrave disliked looking at the bronze hand mirror. With something—or someone, rather—to find solace in, he didn’t need to use it for motivation much at all anymore. Now, though, the day had passed, and he stared down at its surface in the early morning light…

Traits: [Tall], [Black Blooded], [Intelligent], [Magic Affinity (High)], [Insomniac], [Blessing of Supersession (MAX)]

Skills: [Elemental Magic (C)], [Blood Magic (B)], [Healing Magic (C)], [Illusion Magic (C)], [Warding Magic(C)], [Druidic Magic (C)], [Inscription (E)], [Imbuing (E)]

Seeing that ‘B’ just beside blood magic made him feel quite satisfied. Unfortunately, Argrave had underestimated himself, and brought no B-rank spellbooks with him besides that for [Bloodfeud Bow]. He felt like he was wasting precious time that could be spent learning more and more B-rank spells, yet even still…

His rate of advancement was quite exceptional. Between his high magic affinity, his black blood, that [Intelligent] trait, and his own diligence in studying, maybe it was to be expected. He felt some fulfillment. His rate of advancement was not unprecedented, lore-wise, but it was quite fast.

Orion’s presence culled what might’ve been a seed of arrogance, though. With [Bloodfeud Bow], a single-projectile attack with the potential for power far outmatching near all spells, Argrave could seriously injure Orion now. That was assuming the ridiculous possibility the man would stand still and let him charge it for minutes, naturally. The Holy Fool could still crush him and all of his companions without much issue. Fighting him personally was a long way off.

Yet with B-rank magic at his hands… he could start planning for the future in earnest. His advancement to A-rank would be as significant as his visit to the Alchemist, he knew. A-rank was when a mage more closely integrated with magic—rather than merely using it, they would assimilate into it. It was a vague description, yet the innumerable processes to become A-rank were so varied that only a vagary sufficed for describing it.

Argrave stowed away the bronze hand mirror and rose, doing brief stretches before he emerged from the tent. Anneliese sat on a large root not too far away, cleaning and braiding her long white hair back in preparation for travel.

Anneliese turned her head towards him yet remained focused on her task. “Good morning.”

“Is it? I’m not so sure,” Argrave questioned, blinking his eyes as he raised his hands to his face.

“You are pale,” Anneliese noted as Argrave wiped away his tired eyes. He’d gotten a few hours of sleep, but his current state of fatigue made him question if he’d have been better off staying awake the whole night.

“I always have been,” he answered quickly.

“No. You had a healthy pallor not weeks ago, yet you keep…” she trailed off. “Why are you so pleased with yourself?”

Argrave’s subtle grin broadened into a smile. “You’re a good teacher—anyone ever tell you that?”

Anneliese’s amber eyes grew wide as she placed things. “I see now. You—you broke into B-rank with that blood magic spell. That’s why you look so terrible, so tired.”

“Well, that’s the demerit,” Argrave brushed off the remark quickly.

She stood and moved forth, running her fingers through her half-braided white hair in frustration. “You complain when you are miserable, and yet you never… Why in the world do you never…” she sighed. “You will not use blood magic for the rest of this journey,” she commanded, planting a finger to his chest.

“I won’t?” he raised a brow.

“This is a concession you must make for me. I will not bend on this matter,” she stated plainly, amber eyes fierce as he’d ever seen them. “You insisted that I remain inside at Jast for my safety. I insist on this, for your safety.”

Argrave kept the stare going for a little bit. Then, he raised his hand and fixed her messy hair. “As long as it’s not life-or-death.”

Anneliese pouted—a rare expression on her, and one Argrave found quite adorable. “If it is truly life or death, use your Blessing of—”

Argrave placed one finger to her lips, shushing her. “We talked about this. Stay quiet about that while we’re here,” he whispered, looking around. Thankfully, neither him nor his Waxknights were nearby.

She lowered her head with a nod of apology. “Alright. But to that point?”

“Last night’s venture… delayed things,” Argrave said in vague terms as he waved his hand dismissively. “[Bloodfeud Bow] is blood magic, but B-rank magic is still B-rank magic, and therefore costly. I suspect night will fall before I can fully repay things, provided I don’t expend much magic today. Fortunately, the battle for the second fortress won’t involve much magic at all.”

She sighed, then looked up at Argrave once again. “B-rank… I am happy for you,” she finally congratulated him. “Perhaps now, you will rest easier and cease working so hard.”

Argrave only smiled in response, giving no verbal commitments. But in his head, those words still rang—never again, never again.