/n/jackal-among-snakes-1520/c-289
chapter-290

Vasilisa grabbed the iron gate that stood out front the palace in Quadreign. She fit in a key and opened it wide. Argrave eyed the gate—it was cheaply made, and the iron had grown rusty and brittle. The Magister had led them through the city with purpose, and they’d diligently followed behind their escort. It wasn’t as though any people blocked their way.

The quest line in Quadreign had always described the city as failing, as a fragment of its former glory. Certainly, the player could observe the failing houses, the decrepit palace, and the stagnant clocktower. Even still, Argrave felt as though he was seeing the city for the very first time. These were living people enduring hard times in this land of bitter cold. He saw how thin they were, how they shuddered in their poorly heated homes, and how they slowly withered away in this isolated valley.

There was an old man waiting for them in the palace’s courtyard. He wore clothing that once might have been brilliant blue but was now faded and worn and lined with fur to ward away the cold. Vasilisa stepped right up to him.

“Young lady,” he greeted. Argrave recognized him—he was the steward of this palace. Befitting an elder member of House Quadreign, he was a mage with quite a formidable magic pool.

“That title is no longer applicable, Ferrel,” she said coldly. “Here.”

Ferrel took a bag from her hand, and Argrave heard metal clinking within. The steward looked inside, then looked back to Vasilisa. “But… my lady… all of what you earned?”

“I am still part of this house. Take it. I will brook no protest,” she commanded him.

The steward acquiesced with a quiet bow. “It will help alleviate some of the debt.”

“Forget the debt,” she disagreed. “That money is for supplies. The Lous family lost half their herd. We need to buy food, other essentials, distribute them.”

“Of… course, my lady,” Ferrel bowed a little deeper.

“These elves are my guests,” Vasilisa looked back, blue eyes steady. “I want them to meet my sister. They… are here about the flame.”

“Your sister is…” Ferrel’s lips twitched. “I’ll speak to her. It might be difficult. You know how she is.”

“Alright,” Vasilisa nodded, her stern voice lightening up somewhat. “You three. Come along.”