Jackal Among Snakes

Chapter 607: Goodly Man

Though the siege against Kirel Qircassia persisted above the skies in the Great Chu, Argrave was infinitely more engaged with the changes that had taken place within himself. He and his family returned to Blackgard, and thereafter to the mountains, enduring Raven’s constant scrutiny. Along the way, he explained to his companions what he believed he had experienced. But rather unexpectedly, he received contact from the source of all of this the moment his foot stepped back on Berendar soil.

“You work quickly. I thought we would again speak long after Vasquer had remembered that which she has forgotten,” Lindon observed, his voice bringing pause to Argrave’s step. “You walk a route that few before you have travelled. Only the dead, by this point.”

Argrave looked around, only to see that none of his people were moving. Another trick of the mind brought about by Lindon, but seeing it still made nervousness flourish in Argrave’s chest.

“Seems like the first order of business I have is shutting you out, somehow.” Argrave looked around, trying to sound disaffected despite the futility of deceiving the deity. “I was in the middle of something, Lindon.”

“That’s the second order of business. I’m sparing you the time you’re about to spend,” Lindon countered.

“You could’ve spared me the time a long time ago.”

“No. The terms of the treaty I forged were clear. I am disallowed to reach out to people unless they seek me out first, under extraordinary circumstances. In return, I am entitled to be able to perform some protective mental measures, such as obfuscation of my presence or that of the Gilderwatchers. I never expected to be able reach out to someone. The dictates of the treaty are so strict it was a wonder you met them at all. But circumstances are extraordinary, and you did seek me out. Dumb luck? Some grand plan? Shrewd planning in the negotiation, millennia ago? It hardly matters.”

Argrave poked Anneliese in the forehead to be sure she was still, then said idly, “By extraordinary circumstances, you’re talking about the changes to Gerechtigkeit.”

“I’m talking about Traugott, actually.” Lindon manifested before Argrave’s eyes—now a small serpent, comparatively, about twenty feet long.

“Him?” Argrave raised his brows. “We learned a little of where he’s been when we were travelling through the Tree of Being. What did we miss?”

“The glaring red flag. The Shadowlands,” Lindon explained, coiling his body until his head rested at Argrave’s height.

Argrave broke free of his companions, coming to stand just before the silver serpent. “I thought this would be about the Undying Soul he claimed, but it’s the Shadowlands? I’ve read about them more. According to Erlebnis’ records, they always appear when Gerechtigkeit descends. The creatures there are brutal, barbaric… but they’re not new. Even if Traugott did open a large portal, what’s the worst he could do?”

“You and he are parallels. You possess mortal sensibilities, but with immortal husks.”

“Immortal husks?” Argrave repeated. “That dream was real, then? And Traugott, he…?” His head spun.

The snake’s silver eyes flashed, and vivid memories rose to Argrave’s mind unbidden. “With Norman’s body, born of Sophia’s power, he had a template. Through experimentation, he found out how to mimic her power.”

He saw that inhumane workshop of Traugott’s hidden within the Great Chu as clearly as if he’d been there only yesterday. There, Traugott had made Good King Norman be born again innumerable times. It was only a small comfort that apparently Norman experienced unimaginable torment during this process. Traugott had claimed hundreds of lives worth of ‘materials’ in pursuit of his goals, and all without blinking an eye.

“My kind observed some further experimentation in a location deep, deep into the ocean. His caution and resolve are admirable, as is the depth of his intelligence. He saw Sophia’s power not as just creation, but as the potential for recreation. He was rather efficient with his use of raw materials. You saw the product of his ingenuity—that shell of Norman, bearing a dog’s characteristics.”

Argrave heard the barking, and recalled Traugott possessing the thing with druidic magic.

“You almost sound like you admire him,” Argrave noted.

“I fear him,” Lindon said simply. “I thought to impart some of that to you. If he could imbue that creation of his with the soul of a dog, why could he not imbue it with the soul of a human? Why not allow that human to retain its memories?”

“You’re saying Traugott created a Norman with memories?”

Lindon’s eyes flashed again, and foreign thoughts filled Argrave’s mind. He saw various stages of experimentation, at a location rather like what Lindon had described—deep underwater, in a dome of air that persisted despite the ocean all around it. Argrave saw another figure there, with him—Fellhorn. The two seemed to be collaborating deeper after their victory versus Melanie and Dario.

And indeed, it was just as Lindon said. Traugott experimented with imbuing memories and personalities into the core of Norman. Countless creations were cast away into the ocean after he was done with them, their human bodies succumbing to the high-pressure of the deep sea and imploding immediately. Perhaps there was some mercy in that quick death.

Running through the progression, Argrave came to a rather eerie guess about Traugott’s intentions.

“When you said an immortal husk…” Argrave focused on Lindon. “Did you mean Traugott managed to imbue the body with the Undying Soul, bearing his memories and personality?”

“Quite the leap, but not a wholly incorrect one.” Lindon’s silver eyes stayed fixated on Argrave. “You’re missing one key detail, however.”

Argrave once again saw another vision. In this deep-sea altar, something slowly took shape from a misshapen black lump that exuded unpleasant energy. As it became more human, Argrave began to recognize it, too. The way it seemed to eat light, eat everything around it…

“That’s flesh from a Shadowlander, isn’t it?” Argrave asked, and received a silence he knew was affirmation. “This is why you said we’re parallels.” It dawned on him.

“Yes. The both of you are mortals with mortal sensibilities, yet possess a power that could be likened to a god. As you came to me and obtained the Fruit of Being, Traugott endeavored for so long on this matter to create a perfect body for himself.”

The newly-born ‘Norman’ on the altar blinked its eyes open, scrutinizing its body with wonder. Unlike the others, who retained Norman’s skin and eye colors, this creation was darkness incarnate on every inch of its body—nails, eyes, mouth, all of it. The blackness was so intense that it was impossible to make out distinguishing features. Argrave thought that the way it moved seemed familiar, and knew in his heart of hearts that that thing was Traugott. The former Magister of the Gray Owl had discovered a way to reform his body with the characteristics of the fell creature that had torn through the former capital, Dirracha.

“You’ve keen instinct. It is him,” Lindon confirmed. “After assuming this form, Traugott entered the Shadowlands. He’s yet to return—and believe me, my kind watch everywhere. Watching, waiting—in these things, we excel. Traugott has not revealed himself again. He is beyond our presence of mind.”

Argrave studied Lindon. Since coming here, it felt like he’d never had any true guidance, anyone coming to him with a plan and help. Now, at the final hour, help reared its head. Unconditional help, or so it appeared.

Lindon heard Argrave’s thoughts and said, “There were conditions. Unspoken conditions. But you met them, by and large.” Argrave only blinked in confusion. Lindon said plainly, “If you act with largesse and benevolence, Argrave, you’ll find people seeking you out of their own volition. People like to feel good. There’s no denying that Traugott was able to come so far because of your intervention—most recently, the trade for his help with the Palace of Heaven. But I also cannot deny that you’ve done a world of good. And so, I welcomed you and yours.”

Argrave felt a strange swell of pride. A goodly man? Him? He’d always tried to be, yet to hear it had been the reason that good fortune found him…

Still, he focused on Lindon’s strange intensity. “Do you know something about the Shadowlands that Erlebnis didn’t?”

“I know only one thing; true power in the hands of one unversed in contentment or accepting of refusal will result in disastrous consequences. You have the anchor, Argrave. You have Sophia, and she’s been freed of the box the Heralds made for her. That means more than anyone knows, save the ones who placed her there. Traugott wants her desperately, and even I cannot say what he gleaned of her power from his constant experimentation. You cannot allow an inglorious psychopath to sabotage our would-be freedom from the hidden architects of the cycle. If the world should change, I would have it be at the hands of a trusted one.”

“And the Heralds, too?” Argrave narrowed his eyes. “Can you give us anything?”

“Only that they don’t belong in this world.” Lindon’s head leaned in. “Though they are worrisome, I fear them less than I do Traugott. I suspect they hold a similar opinion; they fear Traugott more than you. Perhaps, in time, they will reach out to you on their own. From all I see, their ilk much prefer to reach an accord before things devolve into war. Though you should keep your ears ready to hear what they say, for now, I advise you focus on Traugott. To that end, about the time I was going to save you…”

Argrave took a breath. “You said this is a route few before me have travelled. That they’re dead. I can’t exactly protest given my spontaneous choice, but can you finally elaborate on how exactly I’ve changed?”

“No. I can’t tell,” Lindon said simply.

Argrave blinked. “What do you mean?”

“You consumed consummate will. How it manifests is beyond me. It isn’t a product of my divinity. Even were I to perish, you would remain changed. All I can offer is teaching.”

“A rather poor offering, considering you just admitted you can’t tell,” Argrave said skeptically.

“You came here to test your new abilities, yes?” Lindon uncoiled, moving closer inch-by-inch. “I’m helping, now.”

“How?” Argrave insisted.

“You’re experiencing it; the aforementioned second order of business.” Lindon circled around Argrave, body slowly tightening around him. “Trapped. Blocked off from the world. I’ve coiled about your mind. Perhaps you’re at ease because you thought I came bearing a message, because I haven’t shown any hostility in the past. I have no intent of leaving this time, Argrave. You must break my hold with your own strength.”

Argrave was going to dumbly repeat, ‘how,’ before he realized Lindon’s intent. The serpent was exerting his divinity. To combat it, Argrave would need to exert his own.

“Not divinity,” Lindon disagreed. “Strength of being. You must figure out how yours can be used. With proper application, you can never again be subject to the divinity’s mastery over their domains. And depending on who you are, you can exert the fundamentals of your being upon the world.”

“I want a power that stops you from being vague,” Argrave sighed.

“Let me be emphatic.” Lindon’s scales met Argrave’s flesh, and he realized that he was in prime position to be strangled by a python. The serpent’s face stopped a few inches from his face. “I am not weak, Argrave. The whole world could not kill us; it merely brought me to the negotiating table. And now that the Melding is over, I have nothing else to do but this. So… to coin a phrase from where you came from… buckle up.”