“I do speak truly,” Argrave confirmed, placing his hand to his chest and lowering his head slightly in a display of deference. “I intend to stop the Plague Jester.”

The swamp god Silvic stepped forth, her radiant body glowing with liquid light. When she spoke, her face remained still. Her voice was decidedly feminine. “And you believe one already infected with the rot the Plague Jester has conjured will be of use to you?”

“My Lady and Light, please do not waste words on those present,” Drezki said, stepping forth. “They have slaughtered your guardians.”

“We were attacked first,” Durran pointed out, stepping forth in turn to stand beside Argrave. He gazed at Silvic with distrust. Argrave knew Durran trusted no gods or any faith given what his people had endured at the hands of the Vessels. His distrust was wise, or so Argrave believed.

Drezki brandished her twin sticks. “Because you do not belong in these hallowed lands! They should be forbidden to all save the servants of my Lady and Light!”

“But we can enter your sacred land,” Argrave spread his hands out. “Because the waxpox has broken your power completely.”

“The waxpox?” Silvic repeated as Drezki bristled at Argrave. “…No, I see,” she followed up after a second, placing the name. “You say my power is broken by what you call the waxpox—it is true. So I ask again—why do you seek my aid against the Plague Jester, if you believe I lack power?”

“Because you can help me motivate someone who has power to act,” Argrave explained, remaining still. “I’m sure you’ve felt his presence in the edges of these wetlands, where one of the fortresses of the invaders once stood,” Argrave said, lowering his voice as he spoke.

“The one whom the gods of the serpent kingdom have given their blessing?” Silvic questioned, and Argrave nodded. “And what is my role in motivating this human, hmm? I have no treasures to offer, no artifacts for humans. I am merely an old spirit of the swamps who watches over the fools that would mar this beautiful land,” Silvic spread her wooden arms out, and the liquid light flowed within her body.

“My Lady and Light,” Drezki spoke once again. “Even now, this man keeps an attack ready. Please—retreat. I shall stall,” she implored.

Argrave gazed at the electric eels still dancing in the skies above. “…the man you speak of—his name is Orion, and the last thing that he would want is any treasure you might offer.”

“But the men outside these wetlands are greedy,” Silvic tilted her head. “That is why they invaded this place, built their monstrosities of stone and planted their flags atop our soil. Avarice is what divides people like Drezki from you. And it is why I have protected these wetlands for six hundred years.”

“Might be,” Argrave conceded with a nod. “I have some of that avarice you talk about, I’ll give you that much, but not all men are the same. All this man wants is the prosperity of his religion,” Argrave shook his head. “Orion wants his religion’s propagation, the protection of its people… and right now, this plague stands as the biggest threat to that. He is ignorant about the Plague Jester. But you… I’m sure that you can convince him. He’ll have no love for you, but he will trust you.”

Silvic stepped forth, coming to stand before Argrave… though not far enough to attack, he noted. She had two slots in her face where the liquid light in its body flowed especially thickly, and Argrave fixed his gaze on them like they were eyes.

“Yet you are the aspect most concerning,” Silvic’s head lowered, scanning him. “I sense the seed of something ancient within you, something far more powerful than everything in this meagre corner of the world. Do you do its bidding?”

“I do my own bidding,” Argrave protested at once. “The continent is falling apart. I have to patch it up to keep myself alive… well, myself and those I care about,” he amended. “Things older than you or I stir. They corrupt the land, and they corrupt the people of the land. Something like this happening… it’s not the natural order of things.”

Silvic stepped away. “One who merely intends to stay alive would not know so much of these swamps. My name, the Plague Jester… you are foreign.”

Argrave reached into the mind bank, pulling free an old excuse. “Erlebnis knows.”

Though she possessed a wooden body, Argrave swore Silvic shuddered. “…I see. Then your presence… I am illuminated, yet more confused than ever before.”

Silence fell, and the sounds of the vast waterfalls at every edge were the only noise that persisted. This conversation had gone vastly different from how it was in ‘Heroes of Berendar.’ The player was sent here to investigate the strange landscape, and it led them into the Marred Hallowed Grounds. Once there, Drezki ordinarily died combatting the player, and Silvic ultimately revealed the source of the plague before helping the player.

The differences didn’t unease Argrave as much as they might’ve before. He was not the player. This was not ‘Heroes of Berendar.’ And he was sure that things were going well.

“Very well. I shall assist you in enlisting this man blessed by the gods of the serpent kingdom,” Silvic turned back.

“My Lady and Light, I must counsel you,” Drezki interrupted at once, kneeling before the old spirit of the swamps. “Please, think of the lives lost here today, and make your decision once more.”

“They were corpses walking, and more yet live,” Silvic refuted. “My grief for those who have fallen is real, but I can set aside my enmity for the sake of this land. These wetlands are our home, and they are sullied by vengeance and its consequences. If I do not put a stop to that, I have failed as one of this land’s guardians.”

“If you step beyond your domain, my Lady and Light, you may die,” Drezki continued to counsel, undeterred.

“I will die regardless, child.” Silvic stepped up to its guardian, holding out her arm afflicted with the waxpox. “Look at my arm. Persisting as I do would be just that—persisting.”

Drezki looked off to the side, obviously not quite satisfied, but she did put her two sticks away. Silvic looked over at Argrave once again. “My answer remains the same.”

Argrave clapped his gloved hands together. “Wonderful,” he said with a smile. “I am very glad that this ended amicably.”

“As am I,” Silvic nodded. An awkward silence passed between the two of them. “…you may unready your attack,” she pointed out.

Argrave looked up to the sky, where hundreds of electric eels sparked. He felt their connection in his mind. He wanted to cry a little as he realized he’d probably need to dispose of them all. Briefly, his mind pondered ludicrous ways to put them back in the bottle, so to speak, but his mind produced nothing.

So wasteful, he lamented.

#####

Mina stared at an extraordinarily tall man with wavy obsidian hair, kept somewhat long. It was not the black-haired man she thought she would set her eyes upon, but they did share the same father.

Prince Induen of Vasquer sat at the foot of the grand banquet table, and opposite him was Mina’s father, Count Elgar of Veden. Like his daughter, he had golden hair and golden eyes, though that was their primary shared feature. He was a tall man, clearly a warrior. Mina shared most of her features with her mother, who sat just beside the count.

Mina’s mother was the count’s second wife, taken not a week after his first had died. Her mother, Louise, was a commoner—the daughter of a merchant—and the marriage had been made to settle a grand debt. Her mother’s lowborn status coupled with the large number of other siblings from the first marriage made Mina’s prominence in her house very low.

Yet now, Mina, her father, her mother, and the Prince ate at the table alone, none of her siblings present. Her father had come to trust her enough to have her present with a meeting with the prince. It was an honor, ostensibly, but Mina felt far from it.

“We are delighted to host the prince,” Count Elgar said, voice somewhat higher pitched in its flattery. Countess Louise murmured something of the same note.

“Are you?” Induen mused, eating some of the food arrayed before him. “Strange. I don’t recall seeing any soldiers from Veden joining my father’s armies.”

Count Elgar shifted. “Considering recent troubles, it is impractical. My entire land would fall victim to plague, and our food stores for the winter would be rendered useless… plus, the winter makes things…”

Count Elgar rambled on and on, excuses coming from his lips so quickly that they must have been prepared in advance. Induen ate in quiet, staring at her father. Mina was greatly unsettled.

“You may relax,” Induen eventually interrupted, holding one palm out with a fork between his fingers. “I am not here for any stern rebukes. No, my purpose is much different.”

Mina tensed further upon hearing he had a different purpose. After reports from other knights, she knew Argrave had passed through here. Despite the strange report of his eyes, the rest of his party matched with what she had last seen of him, barring an additional party member. He had headed into the northwest. Induen appearing might have something to do with him.

“And what might be your purpose here, Prince Induen, if you do not mind my inquiry?” Count Elgar continued. “You’ve called my daughter here, even…”

Hearing that, her gaze briefly jumped to her father, but she was a good enough actor to betray nothing more than that. Inwardly, she felt an urge to run. Prince Induen was a horrible man, she knew.

“Yes… I did,” Induen nodded, placing his fork down. “I heard that Mina was the one that devised the idea for those camps outside the walls. As such, I wished to speak with her… and with you, her father, who put the plans into action.

“You see,” Induen continued, placing his hands before him. “I plan on making this place my base for a while. Veden stands as one center between the north and the south, where many rivers converge… a veritable hub of activity. I intend on making it a bulwark against the plague, to stop it from spreading into the north as it has the south.” Induen smiled. “I hope you two might be of assistance in this matter.”

Mina didn’t believe those words for a second. Induen’s blue-eyed gaze fell upon her, and she felt the need to squirm.

“For now, let us enjoy this dinner,” Induen said, picking his fork back up. “Afterwards, I hope the Count and his daughter will indulge this plan of mine.”

“Of course,” Count Elgar agreed immediately, speaking for his daughter. Mina kept her mouth shut. It was a learned skill. “We will aid in whatever way we can.”

“I won’t threaten your neutrality, fret not,” Induen assured.

Her father did not reply to that, but he did look relieved. Other thoughts were running through Mina’s head.

Chasing after Argrave… it was just a whim, before, but now it seems like a necessity. He’ll have some inkling of what’s going on here. He always knew what was happening. He knew everyone’s secrets.

Another thought persisted in the back of her head—a more personal matter. It had stung at her every day for months. She was greatly afraid… but she had to know.