Jackal Among Snakes

“Before you leave, let me give you a definitive answer, so there’s no misunderstanding,” Argrave asked of Sataistador. “After all, I need to hear your information now.”

“Now?” Sataistador repeated, looking somewhat annoyed. “Must it be now?”

“If it’s not now, I can hardly act on it,” Argrave insisted. “Wait a few moments. Let me consult my people.”

“Very well,” Sataistador nodded.

Reality was far too complicated to have everything go perfect one hundred percent of the time. Sataistador stood before them now like a reminder of that fact. Argrave and his companions put some distance between the two. The god of war waited patiently.

He had just spoken about his method of war—brutal, senseless massacres that served no purpose beyond victory. As befit the god of war, he wanted war for nothing more than the sake of itself. He didn’t want land, nor personal wealth—he just wanted to triumph over a foe. That sort of mentality could put even Genghis Khan to shame. And given his talk about ‘indulging in the honest debauchery of war,’ perhaps he intended to hear the lamentations of their goddesses. A grim thought, to be sure.

Argrave and his party stood beneath a ward, talking things over.

“If we take his deal, he’d cause unimaginable damage to the people of the Chu,” Argrave summarized. “He’d target farmlands, pastures, and all that kept their cities fed until the sheer size of the empire caused it to fragment. He basically told us as much.”

“But if we refuse him, he’d likely do the same thing here,” Melanie pointed out.

Durran shook his head. “I doubt it. He’d do damage, sure, but we’d catch up to him, end him. Here, now… this would be the perfect time. We could kill him.”

“He’s not stupid. He’d run,” Argrave mimed the action with his fingers.

“I can run as well, Your Majesty,” Orion pointed out, glaring at the god of war from beyond the ward. Galamon gave a nod of agreement.

The Alchemist reprimanded, “You have Erlebnis, the Qircassian Coalition, the Chu, and even Fellhorn as your enemies, lest you forget. We cannot afford to add one other. Do not forget he’s indicated he’s entirely willing to dishonor the deal. In that case, we ought to prepare to do the same,” he argued prudently. “There should be no discussion. You should take the deal. Use him for as much as he is worth, then toss him aside.”

Anneliese crossed her arms. “I have grown to utterly detest how these elder gods play nations against each other as though lives matter not. Even still, I am inclined to agree with the Alchemist. This god of war will disclose information that may greatly aid your research into Gerechtigkeit, and we need not fret about betraying such a despicable being.”

“Alright. Let me consult the last of us,” Argrave nodded, then grasped at his connection to Elenore inside his head. “Hey, sis. We’ve talked. I’m leaning toward taking the deal, but I’d like to hear your thoughts.”

No reply came in Argrave’s head for some time, then her voice came clear and decisively. “Pragmatically, it’s the best option. I’m furthermore greedy at the prospect of securing good relations with the Chu if we should aid them in overthrowing the yoke of the Qircassian Coalition. I think that’s… overoptimistic. Still, unlike Sataistador’s dreams of our shared glory, an invasion would be impossible on our end. We lack the manpower to occupy a foreign continent, and I’m already overburdened incorporating both the Burnt Desert and the underground dwarven cities into this already ridiculously large nation.”

“An invasion was never in the cards,” Argrave reminded her.

“It would be the best outcome in this situation,” Elenore disagreed. “If we let Sataistador rampage through them, their empire will fragment, and even should Gerechtigkeit be beaten, they will endure countless wars as petty kingdoms vie to reunite the empire for centuries afterward.”

Her words had a great deal of truth to them. In a period of time like this, a centralized state was the best way for progress, and the Chu were even more heavily slanted toward hereditary despots than Vasquer was. The term ‘warring states’ came to mind to summarize the aftermath. But the culture of the Chu was foreign to those of Vasquer, and they would never be welcomed as its true rulers. Their continent was furthermore larger and more densely populated than Berendar.

“We’re debating the fate of an empire we’ve never even seen,” Argrave reminded her.

“Also true. Let us remind ourselves that we don’t know how honest Sataistador was being about their situation. I can make effort to look into it, but it’ll be tremendously hard,” Elenore sighed. “No matter. I’m in favor of taking it. We can always betray him later.”

“The Alchemist thought similarly,” Argrave nodded, then said, “Thanks. I’ve made up my mind. I’ll agree. Even if we betray him, it’s not like anyone is going to think less of us for doing so. He’s a deranged killer.”

“But a cunning one,” Elenore reminded him. “He fights wars like I probably would. Well, would have,” she corrected. “Good luck.”

The connection faded, and Argrave gestured toward the Alchemist to dispel the ward. Argrave walked back up to Sataistador, coming a fair bit closer this time. The giant god knelt in the sand, staring out across the lake.

“We’ll go with your suggestion. When the time comes, we’ll counterattack Erlebnis and the Qircassian Coalition,” Argrave told him.

“Of course. Makes no sense not to—you can just betray me if you change your mind.” He turned his head to Argrave. “I prefer it this way.”

“The idea of an invasion does entice me,” Argrave lied through his teeth. “I very nearly doubled the size of our territory by incorporating the Burnt Desert and the underground. You don’t get to that point without having some appetite for this sort of thing. I just hope you won’t leave me a land of ruins. I need people to build my empire, even if they’re trembling cripples and hateful widows as you’d want.”

Sataistador laughed. “Do you intend to go the route of a god-king? Hmm. I think it’s foolish, but it’s not my place to judge…”

“Now—can you tell me about the first cycle of judgment?” Argrave asked, also gazing out across the lake like the god of war.

“I’ll tell you some. My information will come in waves as we get closer to our goal. I think that’s fair, given how enticed you are about this invasion.” His haunting green gaze landed on Argrave’s face. “You’d certainly never toss me aside before we’ve done our collaboration, yes? So, it shouldn’t matter.”

Argrave chewed at his lip—that was a dangerous proposal. He didn’t care to get this in drops—he needed it all, now. “We’re looking for ways to most efficiently end Gerechtigkeit. If you do that, it’ll be absolutely useless for us. I don’t want to twiddle my thumbs for months while we wait for an invasion.”

“Fine. I suppose that’s fair,” Sataistador nodded. “It’s not as though it’s exceptionally important. It’ll give you no advantage, I don’t think.”

He was elated he managed to dissuade him, but restrained himself from showing that outwardly. “Better understanding our foe is an advantage in itself,” Argrave disagreed calmly.

Sataistador stroked his long beard, and Argrave saw a huge scar just behind it on his stomach. “There were no gods before Gerechtigkeit descended,” he said with eerie calm. “That is the key detail none of my peers remember, probably because there are no gods as old as I am. My generation of gods all died, you see, mostly at my own hand. Back then we had religions, yet there were no true gods. It was only men, elves, dwarves, subterranean humanoids, and a few types of beast-men. Most of those beasts went extinct… eight or so cycles ago,” he reminisced casually.

“How can you be sure there weren’t other gods? You were mortal, and he may have erased memory of his presence as he had in times past,” the Alchemist pointed out.

“I questioned the same thing. It’s impossible,” Sataistador shook his head. “I was chief of the Drinnic tribe, having united all of our peoples under one banner. And we razed an empire that had existed for two thousand years to the ground,” he recounted somewhat joyfully. “Five years we spent dismantling it. We killed many, but kept virtually the same number as slaves. But when Gerechtigkeit came, no one—not the emperor, whom I’d kept as a pet, nor the various scholars we kept alive knew of this occurrence. The oldest of the elves did not recall a bit of it. There were no gods that descended—instead, each of every one of them was born during this first conflict.”

Argrave was skeptical about the claim of the two-thousand-year empire, yet hearing that no gods had troubled them alleviated some doubt. Provided, of course, that Sataistador was not merely spinning a yarn.

“What was it like?” Argrave asked. “Gerechtigkeit. Everything.”

“Easier,” Sataistador said. “Less competition. For perhaps the first year of it, I thought I was the only god—a chosen, destined to conquer the entire world. When I encountered another, I was the first to kill another and consume them. The day Gerechtigkeit finally came to us, he was desperate, angry, and clumsy. A far easier, and less clever, foe than he has become today. He also had a place that he retreated to, making him less difficult than he is presently. Now, he fights much like me—that is to say, he has become quite the roaming terror.”

“He had a retreat?” Anneliese asked. “Where?”

“Where,” he snorted in mockery. “The terrain has shifted over the years, both by the gods’ whim and the passage of time. It was a place called Sandelabara—a large stone fortification. I couldn’t tell you who constructed it, but it was nothing special. Gerechtigkeit was wounded and he retreated there. Some other deities and I chased him there, put an end to him. I struck the killing blow.”

Argrave was shocked to hear the truth about Sandelabara. That was one of the few words that Argrave knew was tied to Gerechtigkeit. Mial, Mozzahr’s daughter, has confirmed that she had found mention of it as well.

“Other deities?” the Alchemist repeated.

“Yes… but like I said, everyone from my time is dead now, though. I killed most of them,” Sataistador admitted. “Their names are lost to me. They weren’t memorable kills.”

Argrave leaned down. “But… Sandelabara? It was a real place, a real fortress? And Gerechtigkeit had some attachment to it?”

“Yes. There were traces of him everywhere.” Sataistador looked at him intently, and Argrave leaned in. “After all, he bled all over the place.” He broke off into laughter. “What do you expect of me? At the time, we thought him nothing more than another god like us, set on destroying anything and everything. It was only after he perished and we were cast away to our own realms in the astral planes that we learned he was different. Sandelabara was broken down stone by stone by our aggrieved followers, and then scattered.”

“Was there anything notable about it?” Anneliese inquired, stepping closer and crossing her arms. Argrave didn’t like her so close to the god of war. “Anything you can think of at all?”

Sataistador stroked his beard, eyes distant as he scanned the lake. “A deep hole.”

“That draws your memory, does it?” Argrave pressed.

“It was deep. I threw someone down in it,” Sataistador continued reflecting. “My hearing is exceptional, but… I never heard them hit the bottom.”

Argrave scratched his head, puzzled about what that might mean. They had learned a great deal from this conversation, he felt, but even still, he was hoping for something… more. The conversation wasn’t yet over, and there was much they might inquire yet.

#####

Though they spoke to Sataistador for a long while, nothing of great significance was mentioned. By the end of it all, they parted ways just as the god had promised. They kept an eye on the god of war, and though he lingered for a few minutes after their departure, he left much the same way he arrived—that is to say, discretely and rapidly. Apparently he departed to the east, but they lost him at the coast near the old ruins of Foamspire.

They retuned to Blackgard, where they spoke at the parliamentary hall.

“It isn’t much to go on, really,” Argrave said, leaning up against a conference table. “Still, that was an enlightening conversation. We learned that more people than we thought are going to try and kill us. Wonderful.”

“I think it illuminates the importance of the alliance with the dwarves,” Elenore said. “I’m worried. Anneliese was… bold, shall we say, with her negotiating tactics.”

“And prudently so,” Argrave supported her. “I say some things half asleep, and she still remembers them a year later. A conversation with silver-wreathed dwarves was as fruitless as she thought it might be. We need those bearing gold, or gemstones.”

“But what about leads for research?” Elenore pressed. She had the largest stake in this barring Duran—he would die if they could find no way to end the cycle of judgment. Unless, of course, Argrave used the Ravenstone hanging from his neck. If it came to that, he would. But he didn’t want to.

“The Alchemist has gone to the mountains to record what we learned. I think we confirmed a theory—divinity and Gerechtigkeit are fundamentally linked, somehow. One didn’t exist before the other.” Argrave crossed his arms, stepping around. “Other than that… just vagaries. A fortress, and a hole.”

Melanie huffed. “Sounds like a bad joke. But given we’re in talks with people that live in a very deep hole… perhaps there’s more to be progressed there.”

“Definitely. For now…” Argrave closed his eyes as a headache erupted. “Anne, everyone, what do you think?”

“Position ourselves against the Chu, and the gods puppeteering them. Work on the alliance with the dwarves. Follow what leads we have,” Anneliese listed quickly. “These are my thoughts.”

“Perhaps it’s time we asked Patriarch Dras to position himself to aid us,” Galamon suggested.

“Not a bad idea,” Argrave nodded. “There’s a lot to do. Let’s start with the dwarves, first and foremost. I’ve had a month to think about ways to coax them out of their holes…”

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