Jackal Among Snakes

Argrave and Anneliese sat by the hearth as the fire crackled, the both of them staring up at the family portrait that’d been made so many decades ago. It was a little microcosm of what they’d experienced this week—a vibrant family. All save Vincent and Hannelore had Anneliese’s colorful amber eyes, while most had inherited Argrave’s black hair. They were all quite tall. Elimar was bigger than Orion, even, who also stood in the photo right alongside Elenore. Their daughters hadn’t liked that much, while all their sons had.

“Maybe we should get another portrait painted,” mused Argrave idly. “One for the road.”

“The family is much larger,” Anneliese responded. “It would take far longer. We had enough trouble posing last time.”

Argrave sighed. “They’ll make a camera someday.”

“Would we remember this so fondly had it not taken so long?” Anneliese asked.

Argrave shrugged. “Maybe not.”

Silence spread between them. Argrave had come to appreciate silence a great deal more. Time was, he spent every second talking, jabbering, joking. He still could, of course, but he found there was as much power in refraining from talking as there was in speaking eloquently. More than power, he simply felt at ease near his wife. There was no need to impress, to pretend. Their lives were almost one in the same.

“I think it’s time to go,” Anneliese broke the silence. “They might be waiting for us already.”

“Ah.” Argrave rose to his feet. “It’s... it’s prudent to remember, before we go. Remind us of the price of arrogance, complacency.”

“Hmm.” Anneliese stroked her brow, then stood to her feet and grabbed Argrave’s hand. “Who’s teaching the new children this time?”

“Theodore,” Argrave responded as they walked through the mansion. Revelry was absent this late at night. Anneliese looked troubled, and Argrave noticed that immediately. “Worried about him?”

“Always. He inherited my empathy.” Anneliese squeezed his hand a little tighter. “But he’s learned to temper it in recent years. He’ll do a great job with the young ones, but I worry he’ll carry their reactions with him.”

Argrave went silent for a moment, thinking. “Durran’s right. We can only baby our soon-to-be centenarian children for so long.”

Anneliese chuckled. “Perhaps you’re ready for that, but I’m elven. At three hundred, these instincts of mine may fade. Until then… I can’t stop being their mother.”

“It’s Vincent you should worry about,” Argrave said. “He always act weirdly at these.”

With all covered, they left the estate, walking around to the back. They walked across small bridges spanning pleasantly babbling brooks, and passed beneath the verdant orchards that bloomed year-round. Faint magic lamps embedded into the pathway illuminated their path. Distant, almost reverent chatter came into view, and finally they came to a beautiful grove centered around a large monument with some writing on it. A single torch of black flame burned just in front of the monument—a gift from Vasilisa of Quadreign. It illuminated a simple phrase.

IN MEMORY OF THOSE LOST

Most of his life, Argrave never had any interest in ruminating on the past. Increasingly, he found himself doing so more and more. Not for his sake, but for the sake of the names written down on this wall—the people that had given their life for the future that all present here today enjoyed. It would be all too easy to lose themselves in the bliss they’d carved out for themselves. It was this hard moment of remembrance that both of them felt would help keep their family from straying from the good path.

“So… grandma’s grandma was one of the big golden snakes Orion visits?” their dark-haired granddaughter asked Theodore as they neared, her blue eyes wide.

“Grandpa’s distant ancestor,” Theodore corrected gingerly. “It was from her that we derive our last name. Vasquer.”

“How come we aren’t snakes?” she asked innocently. “How does a snake give birth to a human?”

“Trust me, you don’t want to know,” Vincent commented, staring at the monument uneasily.

Vincent looked like he wanted to retreat into himself. Argrave knew he was a softer soul than he put on. Even as a child, he didn’t eat meat. When his younger brother Diedrich had punched his tooth out, he asked for his sibling not to be punished. Every ounce of money he made managing Elenore’s business interests went straight to Sophia’s charity. Argrave put a reassuring hand on his son’s shoulder, but it seemed little comfort to Vincent.

“Uncle Orion and your aunt Elenore spent a lot of time with Vasquer,” Theodore explained with a kindly smile. “You should ask them about it.”

“Aunt Elenore?” repeated their granddaughter, looking over. “But, dad… Elenore’s always…”

“I’ll let you in on a secret.” Theodore leaned in. “Elenore really loves talking with you kids. It’s the happiest she ever is. She just has a little trouble expressing it, because her job demands a lot of strictness.”

“Theo’s right,” Anneliese confirmed, surprising their shy granddaughter who realized the emperor and empress were standing behind her. She gently stroked the top of the girl’s head. “And she especially loves talking about Vasquer. Shall we go together?” The girl sheepishly nodded, and Anneliese scooped her up and walked toward where Elenore sat.

“Was that alright?” Theodore asked Argrave. “I’m worried that I might… I don’t know. Traumatize them or something.”

You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

“You’ll do great, Theodore.” Argrave patted his son’s shoulder. “I trust you with this almost as much as Anneliese.”

“Heh.” Theodore lowered his head, smiling. “Couldn’t have just said, ‘more than anyone?’”

“Well, I don’t lie to family. Anne taught me that.” He gestured. “Go to your eager, if somewhat subdued, disciples.”

Theodore walked away, leaving Argrave alone in this grove dedicated to the lost. The emperor took the time to look around, at his family speaking in hushed tones of people gone, of stories that needed to be remembered. He hoped that he’d always be around to tell these stories—and that his mind remained intact enough to remember them. But in case they didn’t, he knew his family would carry them on.

Somehow, Vincent had slipped away. His son had always been unusually talented at doing that. Argrave looked for him, but didn’t have much luck. He walked through the grove, head swiveling about as he searched. In time, he spotted Sophia looking up at the monument ponderously. He went to join her.

“Hey,” he greeted her.

She looked over. “Hey, dad.”

“What’s on your mind?” Argrave asked.

Sophia said nothing for a long while, before she finally said quietly, “Do you ever wonder if I could’ve done more with the power of creation?”

“Do you ever wonder if there’d be fewer names on this wall if I did things better?” Argrave shot back.

Sophia looked over. “Hey, don’t ever think—” she paused. “Ah. Point proven.”

Argrave nodded. “Regrets are natural. But… I don’t know. They’re like infected wounds. Have to clean your cuts, or you’ll lose parts of yourself.”

Sophia went silent for a long while, then looked back at the monument. “I don’t think I can ever stop regretting.”

“Yeah.” Argrave nodded. “Me neither. That’s why you’re my daughter.”

“I’m lucky.” Sophia flashed a smile, but her eyes were sad. “But… for there to be a concept of good fortune, there has to be misfortune to counter it.”

He sighed. “For every buyer, there’s a seller.” He looked at her. “You see your brother?”

“Vincent?” Sophia guessed at once, despite the fact she had countless others. Argrave nodded. “No, I didn’t see him. But he typically goes over there.” She gestured, where the grove artfully warped to conceal a small little pathway.

Argrave gave her quick kiss to the forehead, then walked off where she’d pointed without another word. He found Vincent sitting on a stone bench, looking at beautiful glowing flowers with his one good eye. He noticed Argrave immediately. Vincent was always too sharp for his own good.

“I’m fine,” he said at once. “I just… like to think alone.”

Argrave didn’t say anything, just wordlessly walked up and sat down beside his son. Vincent stirred, clearing his throat. Father and son sat there in the quietude, while the distant whispers of the rest of the family filtered through the bushes.

“I think you should be the one to teach the kids, next year,” Argrave finally broke the silence. “Educate the new generation about those who’ve passed.”

“I hope you’re joking.” Vincent leaned in, clasping his hands together. “I’m not suited for it. I’d muck it all up. Everyone else is better suited.”

Argrave leaned in. “You don’t think it’s important?”

“No!” Vincent disagreed at once, eye widening. “No, I get it. Just…”

“Just what?” Argrave pressed.

“I don’t deserve the honor.” Vincent scratched his cheek. “I’d jack it up.”

“Don’t think for a moment your mother and I haven’t noticed the things you’ve done behind the scene,” Argrave continued, and Vincent jerked his head over. “The support you’ve shown us. The support you’ve shown this family. I don’t know why you get like this every time you come here, but you are loved, Vincent. I gave you my name—my real name, before I came here—to show you that.”

Vincent closed his eye and crossed his arm, thinking deeply. “Do you ever think about it?”

“Why I came here?” Argrave guessed, and Vincent nodded in confirmation. “Not much. At some point, it stopped mattering to me. I’m here—that’s what matters.”

“But why you? And how?” Vincent looked over.

“Gerechtigkeit claimed that I was his soul, sent elsewhere and recalled back.” Argrave shrugged. “I don’t know about that. Sounds a little too convenient. The Heralds knew, but the price for the answers was too high. Like I said, it doesn’t matter. None of those questions really matter. What you do—that’s all that matters.”

Vincent tapped his elbows, keeping his arms crossed. He eventually looked over. “I’ll do it if you let me go with you two to the moon.”

Argrave laughed. “What?”

“I’m serious,” Vincent continued. “I want to help.”

“Listen…” Argrave rubbed his palms uneasily. “I know Anneliese and I say we’re doing this because we want to, but that doesn’t mean it won’t be incredibly rough.”

“I’ve been there, forget?” Vincent pointed out. “I want to make it nice and livable. My intent is to be motivated to bring about comfort in the new world so that I can enjoy it.”

“You lack magic,” Argrave said, being blunt so as to pour cold water on his plans.

“I don’t care. I want to expand what this family has built,” Vincent continued. “I want to give hundreds of thousands of families the opportunity the people on that monument—and billions of others beside—never got.”

“Vincent…” Argrave sighed. “You’ll just go to your wife and hitch a ride with her if I refuse you, won’t you?”

“I would never admit that out loud,” Vincent said stone-facedly.

“But it’s true,” Argrave finished.

“I would never confirm that.”

Argrave sighed, long and hard. “Well… I didn’t expect this. Not a bit.” He patted Vincent’s shoulder. “I’ll tell Anneliese.”

“Thank you,” Vincent said.

“Thank you what?” Argrave put a hand to his ear.

“Thank you, father.” Vincent managed a smile.

“Good kid.” Argrave patted his shoulder, then stood. “You deserve my name. Lazy, but with a good heart and secret diligence. Simpler put… just like I was when I had that name. And what do you know? You’re going to another celestial body, just like I did.”

Vincent nodded. “Strange, these coincidences.”