/n/jackal-among-snakes-1520/c-556
chapter-555

“What makes you think you deserve my help?”

The Stain in Argrave’s memory was a young man that was brown of hair, somewhat good-looking, but beyond that, largely average. Height, bearing—nothing about him stood out. He was Generic Thief Protagonist Incarnate. That was probably a good thing in his line of work. Criminals often dressed similarly not only to signify belonging to a group, but also to avoid having their appearance easily identifiable by the guards. The Stain that Argrave saw now, though…

He had grown his hair out somewhat. His face became sharper, and he grew better into the man he was supposed to be. He had a faint moustache and chin stubble that didn’t look terrible… nor was it something to write home about, granted. He sat in a chair opposite Elenore and Argrave on a desk, leaning the chair back and balancing it on two legs. One might call such a pose exceedingly arrogant. Argrave was waiting to see.

“Deserve? Did you miss the news flyers, the roaming undead, the appearance of lesser gods? It’s the world against Gerechtigkeit,” Argrave shot back at him.

“Yeah? And this apocalypse—invading the Great Chu involves it how?” He spread his arms out wide, stretching.

Argrave crossed his arms. He didn’t feel the need to explain everything to Stain just yet—especially not this colorful, cocky Stain. “Enemies intent on ending Vasquer lie in wait there, sieging Berendar. You can ask Almazora to provide evidence regarding that. Or, you can look to the fire in the royal forest. That was caused by enemy barrages, overseas. Regardless… I think you owe me a lot, Stain.”

Stain laughed and smiled. “I did work. You paid me. Even if it was generously, that was our arrangement. I put your coin to good work. Or maybe you’re talking about setting me up with House Parbon? That was more Elias than you, I think.” He stopped balancing, and the chair clattered down back onto four legs loudly. “But even supposing that was a debt, which it isn’t… you’d still owe me.”

Elenore looked at Argrave for direction, but for now, he didn’t feel the need to let her interject. He leaned onto the desk and said, “I can’t see how.”

“Erlebnis’ people approached me, you know. The things they offered… all they needed was for me to infiltrate Blackgard.” He waved his hand over his face, and suddenly, his face looked identical to Melanie’s. His hair grew redder as naturally as a tree changing colors with the seasons. When he next spoke, his voice was wholly different. “Could’ve done it easily. I turned them down, though.”

It wasn’t quite Melanie’s voice exactly, but it was enough to fool the ignorant ear. He waved again, and his face went back to normal. He started balancing the chair again. Now that Argrave had seen a demonstration, he was only all the more eager to bring this man into the fold. He was precisely the person that they needed for this.

“Not being a quisling to the only nation you’ve known doesn’t earn you any points in my book. It’s the bare minimum,” Argrave said, shutting down any notion that they’d owe a favor for that.

“I don’t know what quisling means, but I can guess. If you heard what they offered, well… I’m of a different mind. Not giving you up was betraying myself, you ask me. Fortunately, when you’re the best at what you do, you get to pick and choose your clients.” He pointed at Argrave with a cocky grin. “You owe me everything, Argrave.”

Argrave laughed at him. “My sister asked me to kill you. I haven’t. You owe me your life by that logic, you imbecile.”

Stain was without a response, but he kept that same incredibly punchable grin going strong all the same. This young man, it would seem, had been ruined by early success in Parbon. People that thought they were the new hotness were the hardest to work with, and it disappointed Argrave greatly that this was who the man had become.

Argrave looked at Elenore with a sigh, then stood up and walked to the window in the room. As he peered out of it, Elenore put some documents on the table.

“I’ve taken the liberty of outlining your assets,” she said. “You’re the main fence in Parbon, but you keep a good reputation by simultaneously helping people recover stolen items for a fee. A little clever… but rather high-risk. I have a comprehensive list of your clients, both thieves and thieved, who this information could reach. Overnight, that business crumbles.”

Stain looked closely at the list, but kept balancing the chair on two legs. “Business doesn’t tie back to me. I use false faces for every meet. Dead-end.”

Elenore crumpled the paper, then deposited it. “Poof. One source of income gone. Then, your druidic magic connection with Elaine in Jast… we work somewhat closely. I asked her to write me a letter describing her business with you, and if she’d be willing to end it. Well…” Elenore tapped another document, then crumpled it up. “Poof. A little less money for the Stain on House Jast. Next, money-lending. A word to the margrave, then… poof. Your little pipeweed business—poof. All the trade you have with the Burnt Desert? Poof.”

“But House Parbon would suffer t—”

“I said, poof,” Elenore interrupted him sternly. “You think Margrave Reinhardt genuinely cares if trade from the Burnt Desert withers? They’ve been at war with them for centuries. And speaking of Parbon… Argrave, what were they like last time you saw them?”

Argrave didn’t look away from the window as he said, “Well, I helped Rose walk again. Got Elias his limbs back. Father and son were willing to do just about anything for me.”

“How unfortunate,” Elenore grimaced. “Between you and Argrave, Stain, who do you think they’d choose? Especially when we inform them of all this,” she waved. “What do you think will happen to your ties, Stain?”

Argrave looked back. “Poof.”

“Very eloquently put, brother. Poof indeed.”

Stain’s eyes went toward the documents that Elenore hadn’t yet gone over, and Argrave saw his face despair slightly. He tapped against the desk, insisting, “If I’m to go into war… there has to be something in this for me, you understand?”

Elenore smiled. “Let me teach you a lesson about something called mutual benefit, Stain… and let me elaborate a little on who you’re dealing with.”

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The princess brushed aside all other documents, and then retrieved one last one. She placed it on the desk boldly. It was a simple symbol—that of a bat.

“You’re the…?” Stain said in disbelief, staring at her. “But that’s…!”

“You did know, didn’t you? Who I was working with, back in Jast,” Argrave walked back up to the desk. “Did you think that was a bluff?”