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chapter-297

Argrave and Anneliese made their way back to the inn rather satisfied. Argrave felt things with the Magisters had gone quite well, which gave ample comfort for the tasks ahead. To show their commitment to their work together, the Magisters agreed to refrain from visiting Ivan until asked by Argrave. And in turn, Argrave gave them a document signed with his magic signature, detailing his promise to bestow Dirracha upon them after the war’s end.

He had half-expected the two to quibble about the precise details, yet they only wanted one adage—that the city should be granted to them as a single unit. That is, the package was bound by law as a family. In essence, it was nothing less than ownership by a married couple. It perplexed Argrave and did stir some anxiety… but he abided by this condition, despite his gut questioning how long this couple might stay as such.

Before they could come anywhere near the inn, Galamon lunged out and seized the both of them. Argrave was amply surprised, but the vampire’s voice calmed him at once.

“I was attacked,” the elven vampire declared as he dragged them away into seclusion.

“You were?” Argrave furrowed his brows, pulling free his arm. “What? By whom? A mage?”

“No. A man garbed in black,” Galamon looked around in paranoia, then knelt down. “The only distinguishing features I noted were his eyes—wholly red, no white at all.”

“Then he’s elven,” Argrave decided at once, adapting quickly. “Or at least partially so. But… what…” Argrave took a deep breath to gather himself and looked around in paranoia. “Tell me everything you can of the encounter.”

The big elf nodded, still kneeling. “I will.”

“Maybe not here,” Argrave decided. “Let’s return to our room.”

“And if I’m watched?” Galamon pressed.

It was a fair point, Argrave had to admit. He bit his lip as he deliberated. “Anneliese, could you…?”

“At once,” she agreed before he could fully voice his request. As though reading his mind, she sent her bird out to scout for any watchers.

Finally, her search offered nothing, and Galamon was content none around could see them go. They returned hastily, being mindful that they did so quietly. Once inside, Argrave sat on his bed and listened to the report of happenings.

Galamon described with more words and more details than he often spoke with so as to provide Argrave with the best assessment of the situation. That said… not many details existed. The fighting strategy only confirmed the assailant was elven—only elves used wires of that sort, so far as Argrave knew. They were crafted in the Bloodwoods, and often used to traverse the often thousand-feet tall redwoods and the structures built upon them by the elves.

No words had been exchanged during or after the battle. No justification was given for the attack… and it was far too methodical to be a simply robbery, at least by Argrave’s estimation. It was a targeted attack—an assassination, almost. The person was professional enough for the term to apply.

Once Galamon’s report was given, Argrave sat still and utterly perplexed on his bed. “The only thing I can say for certain is that the man is not under the employ of Margrave Ivan,” Argrave decided.

“This is an elf from the Bloodwoods that Magister Vasilisa described?” Anneliese questioned, kneeling beside Argrave lost in just as much thought. “The ones that held out against Felipe, retained independence?”

“He has to be,” Argrave nodded in answer, then rose to his feet. “And I can’t picture why he’s beyond those Bloodwoods of his.”

“To think of why he attacked… Galamon said the glass eye was aboard a ship, coming here,” Anneliese reminded him. “He said that the eye saw him just as he saw it. Galamon?”

“I…” he stepped away. “I have not been drinking of the black bowl anymore. The days have been busy, and closely monitored… I had not been paying close attention to the matter.”

Argrave took a deep breath, about to criticize before he recalled he had given Galamon leave to lessen up on the drinking. His anger deflated in a resigned sigh as he asked, “The one who holds the glass eye is a vampire in my memory, not an elf. Was this person…?”

“No. Impossible,” Galamon shook his head. “The wound I caused on his toe did not heal quickly, or at all. He was strong, but not unnaturally so.”

Argrave shook his head with a bitter chuckle. “Then we might be dealing with someone who hunts vampires,” he reasoned. “But… an elven vampire hunter? I can’t think of anyone. No, I can say for certain there aren’t any, at least not in Heroes of Berendar. Something like that isn’t easily forgotten.”

Quietude took over when Argrave announced he had no answers to this conundrum.

“If Galamon was attacked, we should stick together,” Anneliese finally reasoned above the silent din of uncertainty.

“Perhaps not,” Galamon suggested. “That man… I cannot guarantee he will not harm the two of you. I cannot guarantee my protection should he attack one other than myself.”

“Vampire hunters are generally self-righteous,” Argrave pointed out. “It’s a thankless task, quite often, and not… implicitly legal. So, I think I’m willing to risk it.”

“Your Majesty,” Galamon said at once. “You named me your knight-commander. I do not wish to bring risk upon you.”

Argrave stepped to him and grabbed his shoulder. “You’ll just have to be more alert than normal. And by the way… it’s Silvaden. Don’t forget that.”