Jackal Among Snakes

Argrave had been wise in his instinct to be wary of this coming confrontation.

Argrave had joined Margrave Reinhardt’s force from on high. When he did, he could feel the distortion of time—the enemies all grew faster, while Argrave felt as though every movement was like trying to swim up the river. It had been easily remedied, fortunately. Any blood magic he cast would eat away at the divinity. He searched Erlebnis’ wiki to find a suitable spell, and found one created by a spellcasting sailor: [Tailwind]. The continuous yet relatively weak wind spell had been designed to push sails, but now Argrave infused it with blood magic and put it at the back of House Parbon’s army, breaking the fragile hold of the warped time over them all.

With that immediate concern addressed, he joined Margrave Reinhardt on the field.

Upon arriving above them all, Argrave grandly made countless divine servants perish with devastating volleys of blood magic. Droves of elites perished beneath his fire, and the margrave’s knights were granted reprieve from the relentless onslaught. Argrave thought he might’ve overestimated this force, until he saw familiar figures rise up, uninjured.

And worse yet… he received no return of essence for their deaths.

He was glad he’d learned this through relatively inexpensive magic. Without Elias’ report, he would’ve used [Godkiller] in an attempt to hunt down one of the leaders of the opposition. It would’ve worked—but the god of time would’ve resurrected the fallen deity, and the only result would’ve been a tremendous expenditure of power without any gain. Somehow, this new god had the power to hold together the fleeting spirits after a god’s death, and create them anew.

The obvious solution, then, was to kill their lynchpin. Facing three formidable forces—elite marksmen, expert assassins, and veteran berserkers—he wasn’t confident in simply bulldozing through the enemy. Still, if this god of time could so ably counter Argrave’s ability, why had he not been given a more prominent role? If he’d been able to provide the same treatment to that god of insects, Argrave couldn’t promise he’d have achieved victory at all.

There had to be a flaw in this formation. He intended to find it. With so many fronts strained, however, time was on the enemy’s side…

#####

Anneliese had assessed the situation objectively, compared it to her own abilities and the forces she had on hand, and came to the conclusion that she could defeat Almazora. Now that Argrave had trusted her capability and left her to the task, some amount of trepidation crept in. Her opponent was still the goddess of magic, and she was supported by the not-insignificant presence of the god of pain. The fact that Almazora had kept her godhood for several cycles of judgment meant she could at least defend the title against other gods. She couldn’t be underestimated as on opponent.

On top of her present enemy, the fact remained that Jaray had painted a target on her back.

This was a risk she didn’t like taking… but nevertheless, Anneliese felt she had to if they hoped to win. Mina had been indignant when Argrave left, but she had become mature enough to accept reality instead of raging against it. Now, Anneliese only hoped that she could demonstrate the same trust for the next order she was to give.

“Mina, I’m going to order Nikoletta’s force to stop retreating and counterattack.”

The small blonde woman said nothing, but Anneliese could see the emotions written on her face: horror, anger, betrayal. Mina’s whole world was falling down. She thought Anneliese was sending the only person she truly cared about to an early grave.

“If she continues to retreat, she’ll be caught in the valley between Jast and Dirracha,” Anneliese said, appealing to logic.

Still, Mina only stared, terrified and hurt.

Anneliese took a deep breath, staring into the woman’s soul as she searched for ways to persuade her. “Argrave trusted me to fight this opponent and prevail,” Anneliese said—simple, cutting words, drawing parallels to their two situations. “You need to trust Nikoletta to do the same. Love is trust itself, and I trust Argrave would not leave me here without believing in me. Nikoletta faces the god of pain—and she’s capable of shouldering more pain than you know. She could lose everything, and still keep walking.” Anneliese walked to the edge of the tower, conjuring the sheer white staff crafted out of Veid’s heart. “So, wipe that look off your face and help your Nicky kill her first god. Is she so fragile as to let a little pain break her?”

Leaving those words behind, Anneliese jumped off the tower, descending toward Almazora’s position. She didn’t spare another look back, trusting in her words to do the trick as she contacted Elenore. She gave the report to Elenore, and soon enough expected Nikoletta’s forces to cease their retreat.

This battle wouldn’t be without sacrifices, but few enough were. At the end of the day, Anneliese knew they’d come home victors.

At the top of the tower, Mina watched Anneliese’s descent with trembling eyes… but they slowed their tremors until they were still, and Mina let out a calming exhale. Then, she dedicated all of her attention to the battle, waiting for Anneliese’s next order. There was confidence in her eyes, now—not self-confidence, but the confidence that came with knowing someone reliable had her back.

#####

Elenore received scattered reports from the two fights closest on her mind—Anneliese and Argrave’s fight. She had never intended to expose them to excessive risk. Anneliese, especially, needed to be protected. She was capable of fleeing competently should the situation devolve, yet jeopardizing herself so much… her death might mean true defeat, in both the battle and the war. Only Argrave’s confidence in her after having seen the situation stayed Elenore from countermanding his order.

Worse yet, Elenore had no one to send to confront the new forces near Relize and Dirracha. Seven liches moved ever closer to the capital, while the centaurs appeared to grow in numbers every second. The centaurs simply walked out of the sea—it sounded like an impossibility, yet it was the apparent truth. They followed the banner of the centaur god that Argrave had dealt with in the Bloodwoods. Losing the two cities would mean losing the second and third largest settlements in Vasquer… yet Elenore didn’t see any way to save them until situations elsewhere were resolved.

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“Argrave and Reinhardt have worked out a plan,” one of her contacts reported. “It promises to be slow, but surefire. It’s underway.”

“Anneliese has engaged Almazora in a direct fight,” came another report. “She’s intending for Mina to prepare an ambush force to overwhelm and rout both gods at once, but it’ll take time.”

Time, stalemate, evenly-matched—common words, while Lorena reported Fellhorn snaking his way across the ocean toward the Lionsun Castle, the seven liches moving ever closer to the already-beleaguered Dirracha, and the horde of centaurs beginning their march toward the trade city of Relize. Even Law, who Argrave had hoped would utterly overwhelm Rook, wasn’t earning as decisive a victory as they’d hoped. He was still winning, yet not fast enough.

Everywhere was pressed. The dwarven city of Mundi, still under heavy assault from select deities resistant to the heat and pressure of the deep, was slowly being filled with lava from countless breaches in its dome. The forces in the Great Chu fought an enemy that came without an end, and faced treachery similar to that of Rook and Almazora. The only consolation was Emperor Ji Meng’s surprisingly steadfast loyalty.

No matter which angle she looked at it from, Elenore had played every piece at her disposal. It felt like a complex knot, tied unto itself so many times that the only recourse was to laboriously untangle it… unless she were to simply cut the rope with a sharp knife, and let millions perish for an easy victory. In years past, Elenore would’ve. Now, Argrave had burdened her with some small modicum of faith.

Because with Argrave… faith was often rewarded.

#####

Mina finally saw the signal she’d been waiting for—a blue fireball cast upward, and the sign to begin her ambush. She raised her hand to the sky, using the whole of her magic to create one last grand illusion. High in the sky, an image that’d been seared into her head manifested—Tower Master Castro’s gray wyvern. Hause’s power birthed the construct into reality. It roared mightily, then soared downward toward the god of pain and his divine servants like an embodiment of her hatred. On the ground, similarly haunting specters broke from cover, rushing toward the god’s forces—that of the Veidimen, which she remembered invading Mateth all too well.

And down below…

Anneliese stood perhaps thirty feet from the goddess of magic herself. This had been the most intense duel of her life—but to call it a duel was perhaps insulting. It was actually a desperate struggle to survive. Almazora was her superior in countless ways. She could cast magic faster, possessed a wider repertoire of spells, and far outclassed Anneliese in absorbing magic. The thing that had kept Anneliese alive was the connection to Argrave providing a source of vitality for wounds taken, Anneliese’s superior battle sense, and use of the shamanic spell [Requite]. That spell could reflect the many thousands of spells sent at her—and because Almazora was not a mortal, she could not use shamanic magic.

But of all those factors, the battle sense was the reason Anneliese had won from the very first exchange.

Every burn, cut, shock, or dire injury she’d received exchanging spells with Almazora had been a victory. She had seen Almazora fight. She fought as spellcasters do—from safety, maintaining the option to retreat at any moment. She was no strategist, no commander. She was meant to support a force by bombardment, not engage in active battle. By fighting Anneliese at all, her power was focused away from where it ought to be… and because of that, she’d been losing every second.

Anneliese didn’t miss the moment victory had come. Mina’s conjured wyvern tore into the forces of the god of pain. The second it did, Anneliese fell back, teleporting back to the walls of Jast. She drew the blade out of the staff forged of Veid’s heart. In that moment, she could feel Veid’s heart grip all in her sight, shattering any notion of retreat.

Faced with such a strong push, it was natural for the god of pain to try and fall back. Faced with an unexpected element, Almazora was also bound to falter. Until they realized that the option had been taken off the table, they were lambs for the slaughter.

Anneliese took a deep breath, preparing for the chaos as she prepared to eliminate the enemy.

#####

“Rook is dead. Law is killing what remains of his allies.”

That report, coming suddenly and unexpectedly, was perhaps the sweetest one that Elenore had gotten. Her mind felt those dark clouds of headache blown away by a healing wind. She readied herself to issue orders to the now-free ancient god, before another report came in.

“Nikoletta received an injury to the head from the god of pain—it refuses to heal, according to attending spellcasters, but it’s nonfatal. She’s lost an eye, but the deity perished. Almazora is surrounded on all sides, and is desperately strained.”

Elenore straightened her back, sharing a happy glance with the old Lira. The moment news came of Almazora’s demise, she was prepared to send Anneliese to Dirracha—if anyone could beat seven liches at once, it was her.

“From Relize…” came a tired voice, and she felt some of her excitement strain. “The centaurs… they’re… allies, ma’am. They’re firing upon the gargantuan sea creatures on the docks. I…” The report trailed off, its sender in disbelief.

Elenore was similarly stunned. With no word from Lorena as to their intent, and no contact with the centaurs before this moment, she’d assumed they were enemies. But… this? To have a friendly force join the battle, at one of its most pivotal moments? Her head went light and her vision white as relief blew away the black clouds of despair.

“The situation in Dirracha has improved,” came another report. “Some spellcasters have joined the battle. Thank you, Princess Elenore. Thank you,” came a relieved voice.

Elenore couldn’t help but exhale and inhale quickly, venting a thousand emotions as it seemed everything came together, all at once. She slammed her palms upon her desk, rising to her feet as she prepared to issue countless different commands.

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“Jaray? Jaray!” Ail physically shook the god of politics.

“I’m thinking,” he said calmly.

“Thinking? We need to act!” Ail slammed the back of his hand against his palm. “Action!”

Jaray closed his eyes. Beneath his lids, his eyes moved about rapidly as his thoughts raced. Finally, there was a snapping noise. He opened his eyes, looking at his hand. There, his wooden pipe had snapped in two beneath his grip. He took a deep breath, and stepped away from the map.

“I’ll go myself.” Jaray reached into his coat. “I’ll take the field.”

“Alright. Good.” Ail breathed a sigh of relief. “Good. I’ll tell everyone. That should stop an all-out retreat. Where will you go?”

“Where Argrave is,” he said, pulling free a second box. He retrieved a brand-new pipe. “Come along. I still need you to coordinate messages and information.”