Jackal Among Snakes

Chapter 27: Dread Breath of War

Argrave spurred his horse forward, holding his hand to the satchel on his side to keep the bottles from banging about. He knew the terrain well after years of wandering about in ‘Heroes of Berendar,’ and Argrave stuck near the coast as he headed for Barden. Galamon rode beside him. It had been a challenge to find a horse that could support the elf’s weight and height, but they had managed. The horses belonged to the Dukedom, technically, but Nikoletta had secured them for the two of them.

“Don’t fight the horse,” Galamon instructed, yelling loudly so his voice carried as they moved. The snow elf was a much better rider than he. “Don’t react to its movements after they’ve happened. Move in sync with it. It’ll reduce the burden on both your and its body.”

“Yeah, I’ll just do that. Move in sync with the horse. It’s easy, bro. Just do it,” Argrave muttered into the wind with a mock jock-tone.

The horse carried onwards. Argrave watched for landmarks, guiding them to their destination. The suns were high overhead, and the temperature was pleasant. This place didn’t seem like one on the eve of war.

The two of them rode onwards for a long while. Eventually, Argrave could see the distant buildings of a village; it was not Barden, though. This place was made of cheap wood and straw. Barden was much beyond it. Argrave adjusted his shoulders, telling himself that the journey was probably half done.

The sound of a horn filled the air. Argrave thought it was uncannily similar to that of a steamboat. He had wits enough to slow his horse instead of pulling it to a stop instantly, and he looked at where the noise had come from.

The horn came again. Argrave could see someone standing atop an outpost at the village with a horn larger than themselves held above their head.

“There, beyond the crags,” Galamon said, pulling up beside Argrave. “A longship cuts the waters.”

Argrave looked out across the sea, squinting his eyes. He saw a moving mass of brown. They flew a red flag with a black wheel in the center. It was too distant to make out details beyond that.

Argrave cursed. “So much for that conversation with the god-forsaken Duke. A waste of time. I could have learned a useful C-rank spell. Instead, I spent it giving advice for an invasion that was happening today.”

“Don’t think on it. You will get lost with that mentality,” Galamon cautioned.

“Rely not on the likelihood of the enemy’s not coming, but on our own readiness to receive him.” Argrave turned to Galamon. “They’re still at sea. Let’s move. Once we get to Barden, you’ll have to keep going.”

“Right.”

They both spurred their horses forward, moving faster than they had before. The horn continued to blow, and the village ahead became a hive of movement. People ran inside their homes, barricading windows and doors. The village militia, bolstered by a few dozen knights, spread out along the front of the village in the coast, urging fishermen to get away.

The pair had planned to travel through the village, but Argrave redirected them along the outskirts so as not to interfere with people moving about the road. As they rode by, shouts of unease and urgency entered their ears.

My leisure caused this. I should have acted faster. I should have acted smarter. I knew it was coming, and I didn’t do it right.

Argrave did not have the time to get lost in self-reflection, as the road demanded his attention. It was difficult to suppress the urge to look out at the ocean and see how close the longships had come to the shore.

As they travelled along the road, Argrave’s whirling mind made the time pass by quicker. Before long, Barden came into sight. It was a quaint village with a larger dock than the one before it. The houses looked firmer than the village before, and it possessed a meager palisade to ward off attackers. The longships had not yet reached it.

“There’s Barden,” Argrave shouted, turning his head to look at Galamon. “Do you remember the directions I told you?”

“You’re asking now? Of course I do,” Galamon answered back.

“Good, good.” Argrave muttered, nervousness brewing within. “Once we reach the palisade…”

“I know,” Galamon nodded. “We discussed this already. There is nothing left but to do our duties.”

Argrave took a deep breath, looking forward silently after hearing Galamon’s words. He saw in his peripheries some longships moving towards Barden, and hurried his horse even faster than it was already going.

The gates had closed at Barden. Galamon broke off from Argrave, and the nervous storm roiling in his chest became a tsunami crashing around. He was all alone. The defense of Barden—and perhaps his life—would rely only on his ability alone. He hadn’t repaid his magic debt to Erlebnis. He could not use the Blessing of Supersession.

Argrave slowed his horse, stopping at the gate. He shouted, “I come from Mateth! I need to speak to Knight Ryles!”

He heard some people speaking within loudly, and eventually, the gate opened. A knight stood there. “Knight Ryles is here, sir. He’s with the knights near the docks, helping the people get to safety within their homes.” He pointed down to the docks.

“Thank you,” Argrave said, slightly winded. He led the horse, and then promptly dismounted. He left it there without tying it to anything. A horse would be of no use to him now, anyway. Leaving was not an option, not anymore.

Argrave walked down to the docks. He spotted the knight he was looking for—the leader of this detachment of knights, Knight Ryles. He had a blue plume on his helmet. He was one of the few to survive the invasion on Monticci. In the game, Ryles led a guerilla force against the Veidimen after they seized the coast.

The knights were speaking amongst themselves, while the militia waited a fair distance away, waiting to be told what to do by the knights.

“Knight Ryles,” Argrave shouted out, drawing the man’s attention. He walked closer until he stood face-to-face. “Knight Ryles. I’m glad I made it in time.”

“You know me?” the knight asked, his voice echoing from beneath his helmet as he looked up at Argrave.

“No, not before this. Duke Enrico sent me here. I am Argrave of Blackgard,” After bringing up his old pseudonym, Argrave reached in his pocket and retrieved the Mark of Monticci he had been given this morning. “Barden is likely to become an important battleground. He wished for me to…” Argrave swallowed the words, ‘take command.’ No matter what mark he had, things would not go well if he seized command from a respected commander on the eve of battle.

“He wished for me to offer guidance on how to deal with the snow elves, and further offer my abilities as a Wizard of the Gray Owl.”

“A spellcaster? Your kind are always welcome. But guidance? I am not sure…” Ryles trailed off.

Argrave interrupted. “I was the one to deal with the druids hiding in the forest. I know how these elves fight. I won’t undermine your command, but Barden is an important strategic position, and I can help you devise countermeasures to their strategies.”

Ryles lowered his head. Argrave could not see his expression from behind the helmet, but he knew the man was deep in thought.

A knight standing nearby interjected, “There isn’t time for much, Knight Ryles. Their strange ships are approaching.”

Ryles looked behind him at the ocean, and then back at Argrave. “Tell me your thoughts. I’ll decide whether or not to implement them.”

Argrave surveyed the surroundings quickly. “They can only land on the left side—the cliffs to the right of Barden are too steep, and the docks too narrow for a warship to fit. We should send the skiffs out to sea without anyone on them. Any sort of impediment preventing the elves beaching smoothly will be helpful.”

“But the—”

“Property isn’t important now,” Argrave interrupted, walking out into the docks. “Look at the number of elves on those longships. They are likely the same number as we, but each is heavily armored and highly skilled.”

Ryles put his hand on the pommel of his sheathed sword, but eventually nodded. “You’re right. It’s a good idea. Tell the militia to do that,” Ryles directed one of the knights. “What else?”

“The archers should take their place behind the palisades. The Veidimen have throwing axes, javelins—our bowmen need cover. If there is no position they can look over the palisade, stack crates or furniture for them to shoot effectively.”

Ryles nodded. “What of the spearmen?”

“They should receive the elves on the shore.”

“That’s ridiculous. You’re sending those men to their deaths,” Ryles protested.

“It isn’t ridiculous. These men have never seen large scale battle before. The palisades will break in seconds, and the Veidimen will lose the disadvantage of being at sea. If you send in your elite knights and they are routed completely, these militiamen will break and run. Besides, the spears will be effective at slowing their movement in the shallow water. If I am just behind them, I can attack with magic while the elves are slowed.”

Ryles shifted on his feet, devising a rebuttal. “You assume my knights will be routed easily.”

“If you think I am tall, I am barely above average amongst the snow elves.” Argrave shook his head. “They are giants, one and all. Furthermore, they are no stranger to warfare. Their fighting style is fierce and rapid; though it’s uncomfortable to think about, seeing them battle the militia may prepare your knights better for their attack.”

Ryles grew quiet for a moment, considering Argrave’s opinion. He lifted his head towards Argrave. “You said you would stand on the battlefield? Not behind the palisade?”

“If the militia are first on the beach, yes. The knights should be behind them. I will stand with the knights.”

Argrave turned his gaze to the ocean. The militia were busy pushing out the boats to sea, and before long, the ocean was filled with empty vessels drifting along with the tides. The longships loomed ever closer. Argrave could see someone standing on the front of one of the boats. It was a woman; she had very long white hair and wore a white fur outfit.

“What is she doing here?” Argrave said aloud despite himself.

“What?” Ryles questioned.

“Nothing,” Argrave dismissed. “Someone I know on the docks, that’s all.”

Internally, Argrave cursed. That’s Anneliese. Why is she here? She specifically never entered the vanguard…

Anneliese was one of the most prominent Veidimen characters. After Mateth fell, she became Dras’ chief strategist after distinguishing herself in the siege. She had two very powerful traits; [Genius] and [Empath]. She used them both to great effect to devise very good battle plans that read the opponent like a book. That was the lore, at least; in game, she was an extremely powerful mage. Her magic affinity, just like Argrave’s, was high. At this early juncture in the game, she was likely a C-rank spellcaster.

Ryles nodded, seemingly having made up his mind. “If you’re confident enough in your idea as to stand out in the frontlines, I’m inclined to put more belief in that.”

“Then we have talked enough. Let’s move,” Argrave answered quickly.

“Right. You all heard our conversation, men and women! Convey the orders to the militia. We have very little time!” Ryles shouted, rushing to the gate. He drew his sword, and the militia manning the gate worked together to pull the gate open with a string. Argrave followed him out on foot.

Argrave opened up his satchel bag and retrieved two potions. He drank them both and tossed them to the ground. Rotating his shoulders, he felt the nervousness fade from his body and the aches he’d accumulated from horse-riding became a distant memory. After, he pushed the satchel to his back and followed the militia who were just beginning to head onto the beach.Text content © NôvelDrama.Org.

Damn it all. Anneliese, Argrave cursed internally. I don’t know if she’s a soldier, if she’s leading, or if she’s merely a mage helping. I don’t want to kill her before brokering peace with the Veidimen. She was always invaluable when fighting Gerechtigkeit.

“Whatever happens, happens,” Argrave said, mostly to himself. He strode out onto the beach. The longships just began to collide with the drifting boats, slowing slightly but pushing onwards. The time had come.