Jackal Among Snakes

When Dario dreamed, he could see anything that had come to pass.

Dreams were fleeting things, but many months ago, his gained true meaning. He had a dream of shifting rock and collapsing supports when he still lived in the commune, and when he brought a crew to inspect the area, all that he saw in that dream was true. Poor fortune caused it to collapse, and from that day on Dario suspected that something about him had changed. He was proven right, as whatever bestowed these dreams upon him taught him the rules of power and of the past.

He learned countless things in his dreams. He learned the truth of the ancient calamity written of in myth, of Sandelabara and its pivotal importance to this world. He learned of Argrave, of Traugott, and of Mozzahr. He learned what the three of them were careening towards, and what it meant. Argrave’s drive was that of self-serving goodwill, Traugott’s was that of curious chaos, and Mozzahr’s was that of unceasing ambition. But all three of them could shift this world on its head and ruin the balance brought by the cycle of judgment, each in their own way. And to stop that, his dreams had taught him how to utilize the power that was killing him.

He did not know what was giving him these dreams, nor these powers that he harnessed, but there was an intelligent design behind each of them. He called the mysterious silent entity the dream-giver. Countless experiences told him that all of these visions were true and honest. He saw the truth that Sandelabara led to. It was not something that any, be they mortal or god, should ever have the opportunity to interfere with. Few others before had come this close, and dreamers like Dario had ended their journeys.

That these visions came in dreams meant they quickly faded from the mind. It had been for that reason that he’d taken to writing them down to better remember what lessons he learned as he slept. Yet now, the one known as Durran had managed to get his hands on some of his dream journals, revealing that Argrave’s group was on the right path. And he saw the consequences of that night after night when the dreams came.

Dario dreamt of Argrave, Anneliese, and Therapont standing before the senate, pressing for the rights of the journeymen and the request for a pumping station directly above Sandelabara. He saw their machinations in full effect—coercing the masters by threatening their business, weaving grandiloquent speeches to awe the senate and the people, and holding rallies for the dwarven people to make the senators believe their spot in the senate might be in jeopardy if they opposed this motion.

Dario dreamt of Elenore subtly encroaching on the people occupying the volcano named Vysenn, taking steady steps toward the infernal entrance to Sandelabara. She, Durran, and Galamon prepared to use military might and forceful diplomacy to displace the alabaster-skinned tribals occupying the land. In weeks, they positioned themselves to welcome Vysenn as another addition to their kingdom. All they needed was the king’s word, and the tribes of Vysenn would become nothing more than a memory.

They came closer every day. But they were not the only bound for Sandelabara.Content protected by Nôv/el(D)rama.Org.

Traugott, wielder of the shadows, came ever closer to mastering the portal to the godless Shadowlands. He transformed much of his body and mind, attuning more closely with the tenebrous plane from which the Shadowlanders came. Traugott could walk in that land without suffering attacks, now. And though Dario was not granted access to his thoughts, he could tell that the former Magister planned to reach Sandelabara.

Mozzahr, meanwhile, had long ago returned to the dreary underground. He navigated far more adroitly than Dario had hoped, bridging the gap between one continent and another using the works of ancestors past. Even with his cult disbanded, the man would not relent on his path to usurp Gerechtigkeit. Dario knew that, if he did reach Sandelabara, the true outcome might be worse.

Because of these three and their unrelenting push toward Sandelabara, Dario’s hand was forced. By night he dreamed, but by day he built his forces. He built uncountable golems in a hidden commune beneath the earth. His works were peer to the prided Iron Giants of his people in strength, yet smaller, faster, and capable of enduring even the magma of the planet’s core. To power them, he called upon the ancient energy pervading his body. The dream-giver possessed these golems, then aided him in building more and more. He destroyed his own body to give birth to theirs.

When the time came, Dario would stop them all—Traugott and his Shadowlanders, Argrave and his kingdom, and Mozzahr and his Emptiness. If he were to die doing so, he would be but another dreamer who had given his life to preserve the vital balance of the world. And at the very least, he had to be sure that neither Traugott nor Mozzahr could win. With Argrave, he might see reason once he arrived at the final juncture. With those two… there would surely be only madness.

Yet then, the dreams showed that Argrave faced the most opposition. The Great Chu prepared its imperial navy for a voyage to Berendar. Chu vessels outnumbered the Veidimen allies they’d enlisted four-to-one. And they had the gods of the Qircassian Coalition at their back, with Erlebnis’ knowledge aiding their advance. The wildcard that was Sataistador stood poised to even the tide in Argrave’s favor, yet he could not be trusted to stay faithful.

It was self-evident that this scenario, just as Vysenn, was a turbulent volcano nearing the point to erupt. And like this, the weeks passed ever onward…

#####

Argrave received a pen. Most of the pens in Vasquer used a simple fire enchantment to lightly mark paper, yet he felt some nostalgia as he noticed that this one used ink. He lowered it down and wrote his name on the document presented, then handed the pen to Anneliese. She also wrote her name.

Alexius, the Head of Senate, took the paper off the table in front of them. “With this, the alliance between our two nations is sealed.”

The sudden noise of cheers in the gallery above the senate surprised Argrave—they had been deathly silent during all other proceedings. Guards took metal hammers and banged them against gongs, shouting, “Order in the senate!” As the crowd calmed itself—or rather, was forcibly calmed by the guards—Argrave reflected.

With Argrave and Anneliese’s guidance, Therapont had easily harnessed the will of the people to pressure unwilling senators into supporting this expedition to Vysenn. Appealing to the people instead of the senate had come quite naturally to him. They had organized the journeymen as what was effectively a mendicant order. When they heard what Argrave was suggesting, they wandered Mundi spreading the good word of King Argrave and his designs to revamp the system of masters and journeymen.

By pairing the alliance with the proposed changes to the system of the crafter’s guilds, it had been much easier to get the proposal passed. It was a crafty thing, tying the two separate legislations together, and one that Argrave had suggested. One was so vitally important that the questionability of the other could be ignored. It was a common yet scummy tactic that had, thus far, avoided gracing the senate hall. Argrave was glad to have changed that. As for how they’d managed to tie the two together…

“You have the approval to collect volunteers for your project in Vysenn,” Alexius continued when the crowd had calmed, continuing on as though his train of thought hadn’t even been broken. “Henceforth, any journeyman that undergoes a volunteer program organized by the senate and monitored by masters will have the right to advance to that exalted rank. Your project, Argrave, will be the first of these volunteer programs.”

Though the masters of the crafter’s guild retained the right to private enterprise, the senate offered an alternate path to mastership—volunteering for public works projects. It cheapened the senate’s labor costs greatly, gave the journeymen a way out of the pit they found themselves in, and gave the masters some authority as supervisors of the projects. Argrave was, and would remain, ignorant of the finer details. Still, he felt this was a great outcome for all. Mostly him, of course.

But their alliance was forged. And Sandelabara grew closer.

#####

With the alliance settled after a process that was far too long, senate was dismissed, and Argrave and Anneliese prepared to return to Vasquer. Therapont was already handling gathering volunteers, and so their sole duty became leaving and preparing Vysenn for this pumping station. As they walked back to Therapont’s estate, they chatted with victory in their minds.

“We still have to handle the tribes and their tephramancers,” Argrave reminded Anneliese. “But… we’ve done it. We’ve earned the support of the dwarves.”

“Would it be strange of me to admit I found this very fun?” Anneliese asked. “You and I, cooperating in this manner not as king and queen but as mere debaters among debaters… it was a welcome reprieve from the things of immense gravity we deal with regularly.”

Argrave shook his head. “I thought the same. Might even be considered a vacation, if not for the terrible beds, short doors, and constant gawkers.”

“I think I can say you’re both just strange,” Melanie told them casually, walking just behind.

“True,” Argrave nodded with a wry smile. “Seems to have worked out well for me. And maybe in the long run, we can make an atmosphere like this. Right?”

“The very long run, perhaps,” Anneliese agreed.

Some silence set over them as they walked through the city. Few dwarves were out—most were sleeping.

“Something’s been bothering me,” Melanie admitted. “But… no, forget it.”

Both Argrave and Anneliese slowed until they stood beside her. Argrave said drolly, “I don’t think you’re allowed to stop there.”

“No, it’s not important,” Melanie shook her head. “Nothing to do with the task at hand. Just my thoughts, my problems.”

“Now you have to say,” Argrave pressed. “Is this why you were acting all weird? Asking questions about Elenore, about family? I’m not as sharp as Anne, but I pick up on things.”

Melanie sighed. “Yeah, I suppose so. Gods… at least promise to keep this quiet.”

“Certainly,” Anneliese promised at once, and Argrave nodded.

Though embarrassed, Melanie put on a brave face and spoke her mind. “From what I see, you two—no, all of you—you know what you want. You’ve got a plan. I do, too, and I can focus on it. We stop Gerechtigkeit.” She hefted the black blade leaning against her shoulder, looking uneasy. “But what the hell do I do after? Why the hell am I doing all of this? I’m a countess, whatever that means. I’ve stockpiled more money than I can spend. Now… I’m struggling to see a good reason to have it. No family. I got friends, or so you two tell me, but all you people don’t seem like someone that would want my money.” She shook her head. “Ah, forget it. Just ignore me. Shouldn’t be thinking of tripe like that during times like this.”

“Nah, don’t say that,” Argrave disagreed. “But even still… these aren’t things either of us can really direct you toward. Fulfillment—you won’t know what it is before you trip over it.”

“Perhaps that search for reason is what your reason can be,” Anneliese posited. “But yes, to Argrave’s point… you stumble into purpose, I think.”

“I see someone like Dario,” Melanie continued, lapsing into her true thoughts now that she felt comfortable. “Killing himself for a cause. What the hell is that all about? What’s going through that sucker’s head? Is it either settling down, or martyring myself? I don’t know. I see bits and pieces of other lives that appeal, but nothing that really fits me.” She sighed once again. “What’s the point of anything if you don’t live to see the results?”

“I suppose you’ll have to ask him,” Argrave said. “Because the way things are going, we’re sure to see Dario at Vysenn. In one way or another.”

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