Jackal Among Snakes, Book 4: A GameLit Fantasy by Nemorosus & R.A. Wilkins

Author:Nemorosus & R.A. Wilkins [Nemorosus & Wilkins, R.A.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2024-02-28T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 29

Though Durran had acted as though discovering Magnus’ intentions would be a simple thing, he treated the matter very seriously. That might suggest it was not, in fact, a simple thing. Durran would probably agree with that assessment by this point.

Durran had good reasons to do this. He hoped to earn trust in the group. Argrave never doubted Anneliese or Galamon, but he did think twice about anything Durran did or said. Beyond that, Durran wanted to follow any traces of Gerechtigkeit beyond Argrave’s mere insistence it was reality. And lastly… he did genuinely want to help.

His first order of business in dealing with the hedonist prince was simple observation. Durran had hoped to catch Magnus doing something incriminating. He might have talked to shady people, delivered something, or left the camp in the dead of night, whereupon Durran would follow him and discover what, exactly, the misfit prince was doing trying to fit in. Something convenient like that was his first hope, even if far-fetched.

Durran had some experience keeping watch on people in crowded places. He had done just that in Sethia alongside Boarmask in their plans for the retaking of the city. He made good use of the crowd. He could not deny it made him uncomfortable to weave so closely with the diseased, but he trusted Argrave enough to be content wearing his Humorless Mask and drinking the vile potions that boosted his immunity.

Yet, after three days, Durran had no luck hoping for a convenience. All he learned was that Argrave was completely right about Magnus’ character. That lent him confidence for his second idea.

Magnus pushed open the flap and entered one of the tents for dining in the camp.

“You’re Magnus, right? Argrave’s brother,” Durran called out, causing Magnus to pause and glance at him. The tattooed tribal sat on a table with a meal prepared. It was all meat—some of it seemed to be frog. The food was testament to the state of the camp: they relied on scavenged meat, mostly, with vegetables and all else being quite rare.

Magnus had stopped when he was called, but he continued his steady walk into the dining tent in not a moment. “Prince Magnus,” he corrected.

“Right.” Durran nodded slowly as the prince moved to the person handling the camp’s food. With a slightly worn and stained wooden bowl in hand, he was served much the same of what Durran was eating. Magnus eyed the frog with some disdain.

Though they were alone save the server, Magnus moved to a table quite far from Durran. Before he sat, Durran called out, “Argrave said he was the son of a king… he didn’t mention he wasn’t a prince.”

Magnus stopped, the disinterest on his face waning somewhat. His changed his plan to sit far from Durran and stepped up right across from him.

“And what are you?” Magnus asked him.

“A mercenary from the Burnt Desert, formal tribal chieftain,” Durran introduced himself, inflating his credentials deliberately.

Magnus scrutinized him carefully. His eyes moved around his body, as though tracking something—Durran was well used to this gaze by now.

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