/n/jackal-among-snakes-1520/c-200
chapter-199

“We should press on as quickly as possible, even if we need to march through the night,” Argrave spoke to Orion.

The prince’s gray-eyed gaze was stern and serious, freezing lesser men in place. “Do you believe so?”

“Absolutely. The journey this time around was not so exhausting. Allowing the enemy an entire night to group up and prepare for our coming attack with be a disaster,” Argrave nodded insistently.

“My feet can tread for thousands of miles without issue,” Orion said, staring him down. “Yet it is not myself I fear for. It is you and yours. Not all are blessed as I am. This speech is not spurred by arrogance, I assure you. I merely worry.”

Argrave put his hands to his hips and looked to the Waxknights, and then his own companions in turn. He could not deny travelling so much with anemia weighing upon him had been utterly exhausting. And exhaustion alone was not the issue. They would need to endure a night march when the wetlands were at their coldest. This final stretch spanned the most distance. What’s more, they’d face an undoubtedly difficult battle at its conclusion.

“What do you think?” Argrave asked his companions.

Anneliese was the first to speak, saying in favor, “Strategically… it is a good assumption that arriving early might make the following battle less insurmountable. If Argrave is correct, we will face the Plague Jester and more, even foes we’ve avoided thus far.”

Durran opened his mouth to speak, but Galamon cut in, “I have no issue.”

Argrave thought Galamon was reliable enough it was pointless for him to confirm that, but he still nodded in quiet satisfaction. Orion stepped past him, though, walking to stand before Galamon.

“Take off your helmet,” Orion said. “I would look at you.”

Argrave felt some panic seize him—had the prince noticed something amiss about his companion? The elven vampire wore a helmet that covered his eyes and the top of his head, yet the mouth was left exposed. Though Galamon’s teeth were not unexplainably large, it was still noticeable.

Galamon did nothing, and his white-eyed gaze turned to Argrave for command.

“…take it off,” Argrave nodded, preparing excuses in his head for any discrepancies Orion might have noticed.

Galamon removed his helm, and his white hair fell across his pale white skin. He fixed his hair with one gauntleted hand, then stared at Orion dispassionately.

Orion put one hand on Galamon’s shoulder, just beside his neck, then said seriously, “You are an able protector, and steadfastly loyal.” He looked back to Argrave. “When this is done, I must ensure you are better armored to protect my brother.” He patted his shoulder, then turned away.

Argrave raised his brow at the promise from the prince. He felt he was being yet deeper entangled with the Holy Fool, yet he could not balk at the promise from a royal of better armor. They still had artifacts comparable to the crown embedded in Galamon’s armor, if not vastly outmatching it. Their defensive capabilities, too, were much higher.

“And you, Durran?” Orion spoke to him, causing a seemingly involuntarily flinch from the tribal. “Can you handle a night march?”

“If you carry me, I might be able to sleep,” Durran suggested. Argrave thought it was a joke and chuckled, but as he stared at Durran, he realized the man might be serious.

“Hmm…” Orion scratched beneath his beard. “Yet, it would be unfair to the others.”

“Clear it with them,” Durran continued. “I’m sure they’ll be fine with it.”

“Durran’s joking,” Argrave cut in after some hesitation. “Considering there may be attacks, no one will be able to sleep.”

The former tribal looked at Argrave bitterly, then laughed. “I’m fine. A bit sore, but I’ve fought battles on less sleep. Once the adrenaline kicks in…”

None as fatal as this one promises to be, Argrave thought.

“I know my men will be capable of this,” Orion nodded. “And you, Argrave? We must not neglect you. Though you have grown broader, I still recall your many troubles with disease, broken bones… I would not have you kill yourself for the sake of this. If need be, I would face all of our enemies by my lonesome, drive them utterly into the earth, and—"

“I’m a big boy,” Argrave held out his hand to stifle Orion. “Then… there is no time for breaks, for rest. We must march.” He looked to Silvic. “Scout out the final path,” he directed her, though the words were for Anneliese.