One of the walls was lined with shelves overflowing with parchments: endless laws of the kingdom, meticulously updated maps, numbered volumes of the Willfrost genealogy and other noble houses, as well as accounting extracts and economic reports. The other wall displayed portraits of the royal family and some trophies from competitions and jousts won by the Royal Guard. Behind the queen's desk, an enormous window covered almost the entire wall, revealing an elegant and meticulously maintained garden.
Dyan took a seat under Eleanor's stern gaze, which already seemed annoyed even though the day had barely begun.
As soon as he sat down, the queen slid a sheet of paper towards him with an accusing finger.
"I have several matters to resolve. I expect your opinion and your cooperation."
Dyan had news, but his matters could wait. The queen's could not. He took the sheet: it contained a list of works in the capital and some baronies that he himself had marked as urgent for maintenance. Another section referred to a small revolt in a southern barony; there were ongoing complaints from eastern farmers about beast attacks, and finally, Sir Arman Levet's request to send subjugation forces to the western border, where skirmishes with the Chinsonite Kingdom still persisted.
"What do you think? Does my counselor have any advice to offer?"
"My queen, I have left contingency plans in my Council office to entrust the repairs to the merchants' guild. They include a cost breakdown. Finia is willing to send some mages from the Tower to accelerate the process with earth and water magic."
"Good, that's a good first step, as long as it stays within reasonable spending margins."
"The costs are as low as possible thanks to prior negotiations with the guild leader, though we'll have to commission their preservation for the next ten years."
Eleanor frowned.
"Everyone wants their share. Can't they simply collaborate with the crown?"
"Every business seeks profit, my queen. In this case, it benefits both parties."
"I was joking, Dyan." Eleanor adjusted her long orange hair, gathered in an intricate braid that fell over her shoulder. "Didn't you learn sarcasm in the Tower, Archmage?"
Dyan chose to ignore the comment. He knew that when the morning started like this, it was because she hadn't slept much. And that meant screams would come around noon like saber cuts to whoever angered her.
"I suppose the years have affected my sense of humor."
"So it seems," Eleanor retorted without a smile.
"As for the revolt, I will ask for Sir Arman's opinion, but if I may, I would recommend listening to the demands of the rebels before acting. This type of conflict can offer more opportunities than problems if the real cause is discovered."
"Then sending Arman isn't the wisest course. He has muscle in his head and little else."
"That's a good point. Perhaps someone more diplomatic could assist with part of the punitive forces. Arman will be more useful on the Chinsonite border."
"I want you to go with them."
Dyan feared this. And he knew his ability to refuse a direct request from the queen was practically nil.
Eleanor added firmly:
"Last time, a mere display of your magic was enough to make them retreat for years. Perhaps the same will happen if you give another demonstration."
"Not this time, my queen. At least not from me. But I'm sure Finia can provide a squadron of mages capable of achieving the same, provided that..."
Eleanor interrupted him, annoyed.
"Finia this, Finia that... You are the Archmage! I'm asking you. Why should I accept your lesser version when I have you? Why don't you want to go yourself?"
Dyan lowered his gaze. He wished the conversation wouldn't come to this, but not everything can be avoided. He knew that all too well.
"What are you hiding from me, Dyan?" Eleanor asked, raising her voice slightly.
"I didn't intend to hide anything from you, my queen. But there is something I must tell you."
"Then say it at once. We have a lot to do today."
Dyan felt a thorn pierce his chest. The mere thought of leaving Eleanor with all the responsibilities on her shoulders had tormented him for months. But finally, he had mustered the courage.
"I will leave the Tower of Magic in Finia's charge and with that..."
"Much better," Eleanor interrupted him with a forcedly optimistic tone, "that way you can dedicate yourself to assisting me full-time."
Dyan raised his hand, trying to stop her, but Eleanor kept talking.
"She's a novice, yes, but you trained her. I have no reason to doubt her ability. Besides, you're needed here. You're needed very much..." Her voice barely broke at the end. She lowered her gaze, pressing her lips together. Her breathing was ragged.
A thick silence filled the room.
Dyan swallowed. His trembling voice betrayed him.
"I will leave the Tower to Finia because I intend to retire. I will relinquish the title of Archmage and, with it, that of Royal Counselor."
It had taken him almost a year to say it. But he had finally done it. The words fell like rocks in the chamber.
"You can't leave. Do you want a vacation?" Eleanor looked up. There were no tears, no apparent pain; she had buried it so deep it was frightening. "Money? Women? Ask for whatever you want. I'll make it possible. But I do not give you my permission to leave."
"I'm sorry, I must decline. I appreciate your kindness, my queen."
Eleanor slammed her open palm on the desk.
"What are you doing, Dyan Halvest? Are you refusing your queen's kindness?"
"It is not my intention to reject your generosity. But my decision is irrevocable."
Eleanor felt anger knotting in her throat.
"Then go." Her voice was harsh, but it trembled. She knew she was speaking with unnecessary cruelty, but if she didn't, she would cry. "Go before I regret it and expel you from this kingdom myself. I will not work with someone who doesn't want to be here. Traitor."
The rage in her eyes didn't deceive Dyan. He knew very well that beneath it, a deep pain was hidden.