jackal-among-snakes-16091326
chapter-240

“Things were as you claimed,” Elenore told Argrave, her hands entwined as they laid across the table before her. In the past few days, she had integrated the bronze jewelry into her movements, and now already had a practiced grace even with the ungainly objects on her fingers and wrists.

“I see,” Argrave said nonchalantly, smiling at Anneliese as she filled his cup with tea.

“Rancor is heavily involved in human trafficking. Captured victims never left the city, though, so it was difficult to monitor. On top of that, they were the primary exporters of a vicious alchemical drug. These were both matters I was looking into already… they were attracting undue attention from authorities, disrupting things.” Elenore tapped her fingers against the table. “Yet you gave me their source directly. Rancor is being dealt with as we speak, with Ruleo heading things per your recommendation. I appreciate you placing him in debt to me. Now, I’d like to know why you asked me to clear my schedule today.”

Argrave sipped the tea at once, savoring the warmth in the cold winter morning. He never liked fruity teas like this one, but the warmth itself was nice. “I think Durran told you,” he said as he set the cup down, staring Elenore in the face.

“I will speak to someone old,” Elenore nodded. “As though that explains anything at all.”

“Not just that,” Durran chimed in. “Someone only you two can communicate with,” his fingers waved between the two of them.

Argrave placed his elbows on the table as he leaned in. “Vasquer. What do you actually know about her?”

Elenore frowned. “Don’t launch into a story to defle—”

“The snake, not the kingdom,” Argrave held his hand out to interrupt. “She fought alongside Felipe I. Why? For what purpose? What happened afterwards? It’s just a hole in the histories.”

Elenore’s brows rose, and she took a deep breath. “You mean to say with these allusions… Rancor houses Vasquer itself?”

“Yes,” Argrave nodded. “The majority of its upper-echelon members captured her, once. They’re vampires. A very old coven. Once your men deal with them, we’re going to talk to her. You’re going to get some answers. I’m going to confirm what I already know to be true.”

Elenore looked greatly disturbed. She turned her head to the side, then faced him again with conviction. “What happened to you?”

“Me?” Argrave placed his hands to his chest.

“Livia. Does that name mean anything to you?”

Caught off-guard by the non-sequitur, Argrave ran the name through his memory.

Elenore laughed as Argrave stayed silent. “That’s your mother’s name you’re struggling to remember. Or Argrave’s mother’s name, at least.”

Argrave frowned. He did recognize the name now, but it was too late—the milk had been spilled. Trying to salvage it, he said calmly, “She died when I was young.”

“Eight. She died when you were eight. You’re twenty, perhaps twenty-one now,” Elenore told him. “I’ve been looking into you, Argrave. People knew you here in Dirracha. But no one knows the person I speak to now,” she shook her head. “The profile is entirely different. Your character does not match.”

Argrave remained steadfast. “People change,” he suggested. “I was at the Order of the Gray Owl for two years.”

“Your heart is unnatural. Your eyes… I’ve observed Ruleo’s necromantic creations last he was here. Their eyes have the same color,” Elenore listed out. “Now you come to me with these unnatural knowings… you slip into the heart of this place without being challenged and tell me the secrets of Rancor as though you are a part of it.”

Argrave shook his head. “These are far-fetched conclusions, Elenore.”

“My logic is sound,” she disagreed. “What is your game? What do you want from me?” she asked, voice trembling slightly.

Durran leaned in and said firmly, “We’ve told you from the beginning. Argrave wants you as an ally.”

“You give me vague warnings to build my trust… treat me kindly to curry favor… reveal secrets to establish usefulness and reliability… I cannot afford to trust it. Gifts are the most expensive things,” she shook her head.

Argrave took a deep breath. “Elenore, we’re on the verge of putting all the obfuscation to bed. I just need you to follow along a little longer. After, I can divulge everything. I fear you won’t believe me if I tell you now.”

Elenore rose—she was wearing her prosthetic feet. “I appreciate your gift, Argrave, both of this jewelry and of Rancor’s activities. However, I think this will be the end of our association.”

Argrave felt battered by the volatile shift. “What?” he asked, though she was already moving to leave.

Galamon stood aside to let her pass. Argrave stared at the doorway in shock, trying to piece together a course of action.

Durran leaned back in the chair. “I wonder if she realizes she left her own bedroom,” he mused. “Wonder where she’ll go.”

Argrave looked to Anneliese for guidance. “She was scared. Terrified,” Anneliese told him.

Hearing that, Argrave could only rub his forehead in confusion. He feared chasing after her might exacerbate the issue—perhaps when she discovered Vasquer in Rancor’s base, she would come to him again. That might be his opportunity.

“Well, that’s enough for me.” Durran rose to his feet and grabbed Argrave’s shoulder. “Hey. This time, destroy a smaller tower,” he joked, then ran out of the room.

“What...?” Argrave began, but Durran had already left. “That...! Anneliese? Starsparrow,” he said, scrambling to his feet. He knocked over the wooden chair.

“My advice? Let him go,” Galamon contributed.

Argrave looked at Galamon. “Why in the world would I do that?”

Galamon stared at Argrave without any words to offer in answer. Flabbergasted, Argrave looked to Anneliese.

“I would agree,” Anneliese said after a second.

Argrave looked between the two of them, completely lost. Galamon picked up the fallen chair and corrected it, gesturing kindly for Argrave to sit.