Jackal Among Snakes

Chapter 263: Skirmishes

Chapter 263: Skirmishes

“And how would backing you benefit Relize?” an old man with a clean shave asked Argrave, sitting across from him on the couch. His name was Victor. Ansgar poured them both a cup of wine. “The king has ever had little bearing on our city. We members of the council dictate all.”

“That’s true. Most kings think it’s beneath them to consort with the merchant class. But as this city is testament… money makes the world move,” Argrave explained, sitting just beside Anneliese. He leaned forth and picked up the goblet Ansgar had poured wine into, then raised it to toast Victor. “And I can promise… Relize will benefit monetarily like never before,” he declared, then clinked his glass together with the man opposite him.

The scene changed—the shadows were cast a little differently from the windows, and the man sitting adjacent Argrave had changed.

“How might my house of Fetrullen benefit if you were to become king?” this new man asked—broad of shoulder and thick of brow, with clothes so bright pink it was hard on the eyes. Fabian, this one was called.

Argrave watched as Ansgar filled his goblet full of wine once again, and commended the man, “A good question. But a land as vast as Vasquer… it needs proper management. Merchant families like yours of Fetrullen—your education rivals, if not exceeds, that of the great noble houses of this land. A new king needs capable, reliable members in his council…” Argrave picked up the filled goblet once again, raising it to the pink-dressed man. “Well-educated and ambitious people like those found in Fetrullen? I think you will be a welcome addition to my council, bringing this kingdom’s management to a higher level.”

Their two goblets clinked together once more. Time passed as Argrave finished drink after drink, answering concerns and making offers to many members of the Grand Council.

“What makes you think you can win this war? Relize is a strong force, make no mistake, yet even still…” a new patrician asked of Argrave, the young man sitting rather uptight.

Argrave knew him well—Drudeth of House Rotswell. He gave the player pirate-hunting quests and was quite the renowned seaman himself. Argrave hoped to recruit him as the head of their naval forces.

“What makes you think we can’t?” Argrave shot back, holding his goblet up for Ansgar to fill it.

Anneliese, sitting just beside Argrave, pinched his side—Drudeth didn’t like his comment. He’d have to change his approach.

“I know how large of an undertaking it is to tackle Vasquer, Drudeth. In truth, I’ve been moving frantically the past few months to deal with this,” Argrave said seriously, handing his cup off to Anneliese and leaning in close. “I’ve forged strong ties with the south. Coupled with the forces we have in Relize, we’ll be trapping the north in with a vice grip. I want this to be fast and decisive—an encirclement that quickly tears out the roots of Vasquer power and restores stability in the realm for all.”

Argrave held one hand out. “I’ve heard of your abilities at sea. You broke the pirate fleet at the Myresh archipelago. The Mideast coast of Vasquer remains firmly in my father’s grip—I believe you’re the best candidate to blockade them and prevent further supplies from reaching in the event of sieges. I’m working hard to make this war work… but I won’t deny I need someone like you. So, Drudeth… can I count on you? We have to restore this land back to peace and prosperity.”

After a few seconds, Drudeth reached forward decisively and shook Argrave’s hand. Argrave stood and walked the man to the door, speaking firmly and decisively… and not ten minutes after Drudeth had gone, another patrician took his place. Argrave led him to the seat.

“More wine,” the big, hearty man demanded, after a time. Ansgar stepped up and filled his cup. Despite being a head shorter than Argrave, this patrician must’ve been twice his weight. He was like a bear—a big, hairy bear. He drank wine like a bear might honey, too.

“More for me, too,” Argrave directed. Ansgar gave him an uncertain look, but Argrave gave him a certain nod.

Being challenged, the bear of a man grew briefly competitive… but Argrave’s tongue and mind moved as fast as ever while his dimmed. Before long, the man was declaring Argrave his brother. Ansgar prudently did not reintroduce him to the party, but rather led him to a room where he might sleep.

“None for me,” the next patrician refused Ansgar’s offer of wine. Kretthan was an old, shrewd-eyed man who defied traditional Relize standards of dress, wearing instead almost monastic robes. Argrave noticed his eyes lingered on Anneliese… and not out of admiration.

“That’s fine,” Argrave said, flashing a bright smile. “I imagine Leopold has already brought you up to speed, somewhat?”

“We have nothing to discuss,” Kretthan decided, looking back at Argrave. “I entertained this offer merely to avoid straining my relationship with Leopold.”

“You’re not concerned about the future of the realm?” Argrave tilted his head.

“Spare me sanctimonious ramblings, kinslayer. One who would end their kin has strayed from the grace of the gods. Taking a foul inhuman to wife, on top of this? You will never be king.”

Argrave leaned back in the couch. “There has to be something I can do,” Argrave said with a pleading sarcasm. “Oooh—I know. I’m told your nephew is rather fond of a curious drink of late. It’s rather common, I’m told—everyone alive has some. If I send him a bottle, do you think that might change your mind?”

Kretthan’s face hardened, and Argrave leaned in.

“Straying from the grace of gods? I appreciate your close ties to family… but you can do too much for your family, you know. Sometimes, they drink your blood like leeches until you die,” Argrave said, with a pointed low voice and a crooked smile.

Kretthan’s breathing quickened, and he looked to Ansgar. “You’re blackmailing me?”

“Very astute,” Argrave nodded. “I’ll pay your family a visit soon, but for now… I think you should keep in mind what we talked about. Since you don’t want to talk, you’re free to leave.”

Kretthan stared back indignantly. Argrave briefly questioned if the man would try and strike him as his hands clenched into fists. Then, the patrician rose to his feet and stormed out. As the door shut, Argrave rubbed his temple.

“Those are always the rough ones,” Argrave noted.

“You’re doing very well, in my humble opinion,” Ansgar commended Argrave. “I believe it won’t be much longer before father intends to introduce you. I can still introduce a lighter wine, Argrave.”

Argrave raised his hand. “Don’t bother. There are heavyweights, and then there’s me. Worst part is the constant trips to the bathroom. Still… best to get our company a little tipsy, a little loose.”

And then, without a beat to rest, Ansgar went off to receive his father’s next directive. Argrave supposed it was much like a king receiving petitioners.

Yet then, just before receiving another, Ansgar leaned in and whispered, “Father intends to bring you out after this. He says to remind you to be ready to receive challenges.”

The words weren’t respite—all it meant was that Argrave would be standing and walking while he talked instead of sitting. Even still, Argrave nodded.

“How do you intend to approach the war?” the last one asked—a woman. Nicolesa was the sole female patrician on the Grand Council, and one of three in Relize. “Relize is not in a particularly strategic location.”

Argrave leaned in, rubbing his hands together as he began, “Well, I had intended to—”

“If I may?” Anneliese cut in.

Argrave smiled. “Go ahead,” he directed her, catching on right away—Anneliese felt it best to demonstrate to this woman that her voice would be valued regardless of gender.

“To begin, we are going to utilize a well-oiled industry in Relize. This city—all of it was built by industrious earth mages. Indeed, the architects in Relize are renowned across Vasquer,” Anneliese summarized succinctly. “There is a key location in the Mideast—a river valley known as the Indanus Divide.”

Anneliese used her fingers to emulate what she was talking about, though Argrave thought it was of dubious effect. “The divide is blocked off on the northern side by a great mountain. This mountain… it prevents passing from north to south and hinders the relatively isolated Indanus from prospering by trade. All the same, it has the potential to be an excellent natural fortification rivalling the Lionsun Castle. We intend to use the architects of Relize to sculpt this mountain into both a fortress and bridge across the river. This would create a strategic location to both supply and garrison our troops in a position utterly disastrous for Vasquer. It is a knife at their throat.”

Anneliese leaned back and smiled, and Argrave added, “Furthermore, this would open a new trade route between north and south. Relize would have another land route from which to prosper from.”

Nicolesa took a deep breath, obviously catching on to what this meant for Relize. Seeing the culmination of his efforts, Argrave felt rather proud—he felt he offered an objectively amazing deal to the patricians at Relize. They would prosper if they helped him. That was as much of a truth as it was a negotiating point.

“So…” Argrave leaned in. “What do you think?”

“I’ll save my thoughts for the council,” Nicolesa said.

“I’ll save my thoughts for the council,” Victor had said.

“I’ll save my thoughts for the council,” so many of the patricians had said.

Argrave and Anneliese engaged with all comers until their throats hurt from talking, and even then kept at it for a couple hours afterwards. There was no shortage of council members. Despite everything, it was important to build the groundwork with people—if they showed proper respect and built rapport before he was introduced, he would face less opposition and consequently have more opportunities to sell himself rather than defend himself.

And now…

“Leopold thinks now is the best time to introduce you to the council,” Ansgar told Argrave. “He would like you to put on something new. Please, come. My attending staff will help this be fast for both the lord and the lady.”

“What about Elenore?” Argrave asked as he rose to his feet.

“Elenore is doing fine. I am told she managed to get in contact with the delegation,” Ansgar said.

“What? I’m hearing of this only now?” he stepped up to Ansgar.

“I felt it best not to distract,” Ansgar excused at once, stroking his beard. “Worry not. She reports that things have gone very well. Edgar Yiasten, Illyn Rodreign, and Mattheu Portant are the primary members of the delegation.”

Argrave nodded, recalling their characters. “Right… right. It went well, huh? Of course it did. She’s a natural,” Argrave shook his head.

“It would be best to change quickly, sir,” Ansgar advised.

“You’re right. Anne…” Argrave looked back. “Great work. Only a little bit longer.”

“I’m fine,” Anneliese assured. “Go now. Let’s be prompt.”

Like this, the two of them were spirited away by myriad servants. Argrave’s tired mind lingered on curiosity—what exactly had happened in the meeting with the delegates? Elenore’s report had been brief. Was it simply poor communication on the end of the Dandalan family, or had she neglected details beyond merely who was present? The uncertainty fanned the flames of his nervousness.

Argrave quickly waved the thoughts away. He had spent the entire day making sure certain elements of the council would be positively predisposed towards his proposal… now it was time to find out if he had a future in politics. Hopefully, the energies of all the cult leaders past would infuse him with charismatic energy… and he’d have a beautiful revolution on his hand.