/n/jackal-among-snakes-1520/c-441
chapter-440

Near a hundred flying beasts in the sky darkened the earth of Vasquer with their wide shadows in the early dawn. Just as Argrave’s royal procession with his army had been impossible to avoid noticing, so too was the so-called King of the Scorched Sand’s. The wyverns flew over the vast kingdom, trivializing the size of the land of green summer that was enduring the beginnings of the bitter struggle against Gerechtigkeit.

Their wyverns had been armored in southron elf illusion magic, and so their fleet of wyverns seemed to be uncountable. At once, rumors spread of the new faction in Vasquer. Some reported that one thousand wyverns had flown past the Lionsun Castle. The number was seldom kept within reason, and though it spread fear, it spread hope in equal measure—hope that their king would seek a peaceful alliance, as he had promised.

In time, they passed over Elbraille and then Jast, finally reaching Blackgard itself. The wyverns took their place atop the mountaintops, adorning the black mountains around the city as jewels might adorn a crown. The army waited here, returned from their journey into the Low Way of the Rose. The soldiers were briefly distracted from their drilling by these new arrivals. Indeed, all took note of the return of their king, his new ally in tow.

In even only the short time gone, the burgeoning city of Blackgard had expanded further yet. Refugees were not abated by the efforts of the nobles—instead, they seemed to be all the greater as the undead attacks continued, and as rumors of lesser gods appearing spread throughout the land. And in turn, the fields sprouted with crops, rudimentary stone buildings sprouted up where makeshift tents had once been, and the new docks overlooking the ocean welcomed the arrival of true trade ships.

Argrave and the rest of his party alighted near the parliamentary hall, and moved there already while discussing things urgently.

“So—we go in there, act like we’re negotiating, and then spread word of an alliance with the Burnt Desert sealed by marriage,” Argrave summarized as they walked.

“I have laid the groundwork. From here, I’ll requisition sufficient goods to begin trading with the Burnt Desert,” Elenore agreed, keeping up with Argrave’s brisk pace.

“Alright. Durran—I assigned Melanie to get some dwarven constructs from the abandoned dwarven cities beneath the ground. When she returns, you have a very difficult duty.” He gestured toward the man. “You’re going to slay any hostile lesser gods, and capture their spirits in these devices.”

“You’re going to make me a Godslayer?” Durran touched his chest. “Listen to yourself. Are you serious? Fighting Vessels is a step away from fighting gods. Didn’t you say they were one hundred feet tall?”

“I’m very serious. But note that I said lesser gods,” Argrave said, tempering his expectations. “Onychinusa will help me identify suitable targets. I’ll prepare what’s necessary for a brutal slaughter, and then you’ll enact it. I’d like it if you stuck to the plans Anneliese and I devise, but I trust you to work independently. The most important thing is gathering spirits. I will need an abundance to deal with Mozzahr. The imperial spells made by Balzat are costly.”

“Who’s Onychinusa?” Durran narrowed his eyes, lost.

“I’ll tell you all that once we get inside.” He looked behind him, then beckoned Orion forth. The man came. “I want you to get everything prepared for the journey to Felipe’s grave. We should bring the body here, for ease of access,” he said, trying to hide the grimness on his tone. Valeria, fortunately, had been moved to a wing in the parliamentary hall in Blackgard a long time ago so that Orion might visit her and check on her more often. He would not need to mention retrieving her.

“At once, Your Majesty,” Orion pounded his chest.

“Alright. And once all this is set in motion…” he looked at Elenore. “We can talk about our plans for Mozzahr. And I hope you can make sense of the notion of visiting him.”

“I hope so,” Elenore nodded.