/n/jackal-among-snakes-1520/c-251
chapter-250

Argrave gazed up at the pitch-black regalia. The set was enchanting enough to make him forget what Galamon had done not moments ago. The fact that a stand had been made to accommodate all its pieces hinted at the true value of it all. There was a spot for a scepter, bracelets, gloves, a ring, a ceremonial sword… much of that was gone, however, having been sold of centuries ago to sustain Rancor in times of poor management. The primary pieces remaining were the royal mantle and the crown.

The royal mantle was an ostentatious thing. The collar was black ermine, and even from here the fur appeared soft. The cloak proper was made of a flowing black silk, a snake of gold emblazoned on the back. It was giant, accommodated for someone of a similar height to Argrave.

The crown, though… its central band was a black metal, though it was concealed by gold at many points. Gold encircled each studded jewel—diamonds of various colors, sapphires, rubies, and emeralds all pushed its frame to the brink. Some of the jewels were the size of chicken eggs. Though this vault was filled with riches, they all paled before this single crown.

Argrave reached forward and took the crown. Everyone watched him, waiting to see what he would do. It made him far too self-conscious to genuinely put it on. He pulled off the mantle, too, putting it beneath the crook of his arm. When Argrave turned, Durran stared at him disappointedly.

“What?” Argrave frowned.

“Coward,” Durran declared, then shook his head and turned around.

Argrave felt insulted. His mind whirled for a comeback, and then he reached out and put the crown over Durran’s wyvern-scale helmet. The tribal jumped, and Argrave ensured the crown didn’t fall off his head.

“Hold that. You break it, you’re paying for it,” Argrave decided, then turned back to Galamon. “You alright, Galamon?” Argrave asked loudly, so that Elenore’s men who’d seen the scene could hear him clearly. “That knife—it possesses people. Probably turned those vampires crazy. I know how to handle it, don’t worry.”

Galamon’s head turned to him. Some redness remained in his eyes, yet they were fading back to white quickly. He gave a curt nod. “I’m… fine.”

Argrave grabbed beneath Galamon’s arm. “Come on. Let’s get you out of this place. The cleaners can do the rest. Here, have a drink.” He pulled free the flask at Galamon’s side and handed it to him.

Galamon took the flask and stared at it for a moment before drinking it like it was some foul swill. Once done, he closed his eyes, gathering himself. He stood straight once again.

“I’m fine,” Galamon repeated. This time, Argrave believed him a little.