/n/jackal-among-snakes-1520/c-94
chapter-93

The severed head stared at them warily from its position atop a stake. Despite the utterly destroyed room around it, where every wall had been scorched black from fire and other spells, both the stake and the head were unblemished. They were shielded by a sheening ward that Argrave knew was relatively low-ranking.

The head itself had quite an ordinary appearance, once one looked past the ‘disembodied’ part. It seemed young, with mostly smooth white skin and short brown hair. His expression had a general air of arrogance and defensiveness, though perhaps that came from the situation it was in. His eyes were black and gold, like most other creatures born of the Order of the Rose.

“You…” the head’s brown eyes moved up and down, sizing Argrave up. “Show me your teeth.”

Argrave complied, pulling back his gums. After a moment, he let his lips fall back into place. “There. Nice and pearly white, none of them sharper than they need to be.”

“Then who are you?” the head asked. “Why are you here? Are those… elves?”

“I am Argrave,” he placed a hand to his chest. “And who are you?”

“I’m…” its eyes rolled back into its head. It stayed silent for a long while, and Argrave shifted on his feet patiently. “…that’s who!” it said suddenly, eyes drawn back to attention. “And you… you’re…” his gaze flitted back between Anneliese and Argrave. “Both of you are wearing the same thing. A uniform. You’re part of a group,” it said accusingly.

Argrave was taken aback for a moment, and he spared a glance at Anneliese. Indeed, just as Argrave did, she wore gray leather gear covered by a duster.

“You’re part of a group exploring the grand city of Nodremaid. I get it…” it licked its lips. “You’re pillagers, come to wrench free the knowledge of the late great Order of the Rose,” it spat angrily. “You’re no different from the bloodlappers. You’re—”

“Shut up for a minute,” Argrave interrupted, holding a finger out. “You can’t even remember your name. Do you even know your own situation?”

“Of course I can remember my name!” it shouted out. “I’m…” its eyes rolled back into its head again.

“And your arms, your legs… hell, your whole body,” Argrave spoke to it despite its trance-like state. “Where is it all? Think about it. Break free of your mental constraints. Remember who you were.”

Its eyes twitched, its face scrunched up, and its lower lip began to spasm.

“Think long and hard,” Argrave said insistently, stepping further past his ward. “Who were you? What did you do? Why are you here?”

It opened its eyes again, its face scrunched up in fear as it stared at Argrave with bloodshot eyes. Blood started to trickle down its face like tears.

“Your breathing, your heartbeat… you can’t feel them, can you? You’re not paralyzed. They’re just not there,” Argrave said smoothly, as though trying to hypnotize.

The head started to spasm and twitch as it gazed up at Argrave. Galamon tried to stop Argrave from advancing further, but he shrugged off the elf’s grip.

“I’ll say it again,” Argrave said, standing just before the head. “Who were you?”

The head ground its teeth together, veritably growling at Argrave.

“You weren’t always just a head on a stake,” Argrave said conclusively.

The head’s eyes widened, and all its movements stopped. Then, its face sagged, as though it had fallen asleep. The ward surrounding it dissipated, the magic shattering like glass. Argrave held his hand to his chest and let out a sigh of relief.

“Nerve-wracking,” he muttered to himself.

Argrave dispelled the B-rank ward so that Anneliese and Galamon could enter the room. Anneliese stepped forward cautiously, arms crossed. “Is it… over? What happened to it? I saw immeasurable distress, and then… nothing.”

“It’s breaking free of the magic that kept it servile,” Argrave explained. “It… no, he should wake up in a few minutes. I would advise plugging your ears when it does so.”

Argrave was quite relieved that had worked. He had recited what the player said to the head in-game. It had worked out in Veiden when he talked to Dras, and now it worked out once again. To be frank, he wasn’t entirely sure his memory of the dialogue was spot-on, but he got the gist of it right, and it worked out.

“Would… something like this be possible for others?” Anneliese inquired.

Perhaps it was Argrave’s imagination, but he detected some hopefulness in her tone. He felt the answer was ‘no,’ but he gave the truth.

“I don’t know,” Argrave shook his head. He stared at her amber eyes as she turned away, quietly nodding and accepting his information. “How are you handling this place?”

She looked at him and gave a faint smile that had some bitterness beneath it. “Let us say simply I will be glad to put it behind us.”

Argrave nodded. “You and me both.”

Galamon shut the iron door. Argrave used the time that the severed head was inanimate to settle his frayed nerves and catch his breath. It was strangely hard to breathe, and his chest felt tight. It was probably because of where they were, he reasoned—even with all the foliage in Nodremaid, it did not change the fact that they were underground.

Anneliese, once more, took the time to read her B-rank spellbook. Her diligence had been especially high in recent days—Argrave assumed there was a spell that caught her interest. He kept his eye on the head on a stake. When a few minutes had passed, it stirred, and Argrave was the first to greet it.

“Hey, you. You’re finally awake,” Argrave greeted, standing just in front of it.

The newly and truly awakened head looked up at Argrave. It blinked for a few moments. Without so much as a word of warning, it let out a deafening scream. Argrave had been well-prepared, and had his hands already placed over his ears. Anneliese heeded his warning and had done the same. Galamon, though, took a step back and frowned in annoyance.

He screamed for a very long while—he had no lungs, after all, and his voice born of magic could last near forever. Argrave might’ve casted a ward to muffle him, but that might’ve earned his ire, and the iron door muffled the sound well enough that nothing outside would come to investigate. After a long while, its abject terror settled into a panic-ridden mess of curses, obscenities, and general confusion.

When the head became aware that there were three people in the room with it, it sought out answers. Argrave spent a long while trying to console it, offering calming words while trying his very best to ignore the oddity of the scenario.

“Hooh…” it breathed out. “Gods damn it all. That bastard Macheid… he got me. He got me, gods damn it all,” it said, face scrunched up as though it were about to cry. “So… who are you people? What in the gods’ name do I do next?”

“Considering that everyone you’ve ever known is dead, the Order of the Rose is entirely defunct, and you haven’t left this place in, oh, six hundred years?” Argrave guessed drolly. “I think it’s about time we get you out of this place, for your health if nothing else.”

The head looked overwhelmed.