Royal Games
The main tower of the Crux acts like a reservoir of sorts.
It is charged entirely by the ambient energy created by the Crux’s inhabitants, so the magic held within it is not bound to any one school.
That magic has the benefit of being incredibly versatile, but at the cost of a certain amount of unpredictability.
On the Properties of Magiline by Lionel Lorne
PACKING MY DAYS SO full that time gets away from me is becoming a bad habit. As it is, I reach the palace far later than I intended to. It’s close to dinnertime. Arguably too late for a social call to the Queen, but I’m due to check in with her today, and no doubt she’s growing impatient.
But tonight, I’m led past the usual conference room.
Instead, I’m brought to a private courtyard near the center of the palace.
It’s a small, curated area with hedges and shaded by a large maple tree, though fall has displayed its splendor in the orange and red leaves.
They litter the cobblestones as I walk across them to where the Queen sits at a table, clay tiles laid out strategically in front of her.
As I approach, one gloved hand reaches out to match a set of tiles before she removes them, adding them to the neat pile at her elbow.
“This is a rather late visit, Grandmaster,” the Queen says. Her hair is down, and instead of any of the fine gowns she normally wears, she’s in a comfortable robe and fur stole.
“Apologies, Your Majesty. I know you asked for me to check in today, but I don’t recall you giving a time,” I say with a slight bow. I hope to assuage any annoyance as I add, “I have an update from the talks.”
Her eyes flick to me as she hums. “Let me finish my game first.”
“Of course, Your Majesty,” I say. Beside her is a half-empty cup on a small serving plate.
If she’s already dressed down, she likely has had her dinner, and her preferred digestif appears to be kaffa.
Though for the hour, I hope it’s the type of bean that won’t keep her up until midnight.
By the archway of the courtyard, a servant waits beside a cart with a silver carafe. “May I freshen your cup?”
The Queen’s eyes dart away from her tiles briefly before she says, “You may.”
I nod and take the delicate cup. Etiquette would dictate that I serve it back to her on the plate, but I choose not to. Instead, I hold it by the handle, and I give the servant girl a wink as I grab the decanter and refill the cup.
I’ve always had a knack for knowing how someone takes their kaffa, but the Queen makes it easy to guess. There’s sugar and milk available, but not a cube is out of place on the little tray. The creamer has been used, though, so I add a splash of milk and stir before I return to the table.
The Queen’s eyes flash to my hand wrapped around the cup handle as I set it down. She frowns before she grabs it and takes a delicate sip. I must have chosen correctly, because her eyes flick to mine before she says, “If you insist on interrupting my evening, you may have a cup and join me.”
I smile before I bow and go to retrieve one of the spare cups from the cart, even though I really hope this isn’t the type that will wake me up. I have enough trouble sleeping as it is lately. I add a sugar cube and a splash of milk before I return. “Thank you, Your Majesty.”
She hums before she turns her eyes back to the tiles. It takes me a moment to find the match she’s searching for, but I offer nothing as I take a sip from the delicate glazed cup.
The Queen’s brows knit in frustration the longer she looks. “Well?” she demands at last, her eyes still glued to the tiles.
I silently point to the two matching fives of pegs hidden in the pattern.
The Queen scoffs before she scoops the pair up and sets them on her pile.
The rest of the board unravels after that as the move unlocks a set of new ones.
Soon enough, she clears the last pair, stacking the tiles up to finish her neat set.
The Queen sits back, and I’d swear a smile tugs at the corner of her mouth as she says, “Rather, I meant you should share whatever this urgent update is.”
My grin turns wry. “Of course, Your Majesty.”
The news of the talks isn’t exactly good, and though that hint of a smile quickly fades, she doesn’t seem inclined to blame me as messenger. Instead, she’s quiet as I finish my report, her gloved hands wrapped around her cup.
Finally, she says, “Luther is lying.”
“Arlon and I both agree, Your Majesty.”
“He’s going to use them for leverage,” she scoffs. “It’s an old tactic of his. Blather and rant until your opponent finally concedes, and then when you’re nearly at an agreement, demand more as you play your trump card.”
That seems likely, but I still can’t shake the thought that the Immen Crown might have some other use for the captured wizards. Diran had thought of plenty when he captured Allis and the others. I force myself to release my grip on the delicate cup handle.
The Queen seems to read my mind. “You think differently?”
I’m glad she wants to hear my opinion. “I’ve... witnessed the depraved creativity of Diran Barclay, Your Majesty. To have twenty-three wizards that you have deemed dispensable would be of great value.”
The Queen’s eyes narrow. “Diran Barclay is dead.”
Something sadder than fury settles like a coal in my chest. “And the world is a better place for it,” I say frankly.
“He was a torturer. A rapist. One who avoided every consequence until one finally caught up to him in your royal niece Allisande,” I say, even as I think of where that boon landed her.
With her life now being used as a bargaining chip in Marikadar.
“But power like the type Diran amassed... it’s intoxicating to weak men, and Diran worked with many.
I’m afraid there are others who may be carrying on his work. ”
The Queen is quiet as she digests that, her cup poised against the edge of her lower lip. Then, finally, she speaks. “I would like to give you an assignment, Grandmaster.” I straighten in my chair as her eyes focus on me. “I want you to find these missing wizards.”
Arlon forbade me from acting on this front. I promised him I wouldn’t move unless I had to, but... a royal decree leaves no uncertainties.
“Yes, Your Majesty. I’ll get to work with my diviners immediately.” I hesitate for only a moment before I say, “I would... ask your permission to speak with my sister. If anyone within our reach has an idea of where Immenbach may have taken the Tower wizards, it’s her.”
The Queen’s lips purse as she considers me, but I’ve garnered enough of her trust to warrant a conversation, it seems. “I’ll approve the visit.”
“Thank you, Your Majesty,” I say with a polite inclination of my head.
She grabs the neatly stacked tiles before she starts to spread them across the table to shuffle. “I have also been thinking of our other magical prisoners. The loud one, Jaret, in particular.”
“Yes, Your Majesty?”
“Perhaps he and the two eastern wizards would be best contained inside the Crux,” the Queen says. “I do not wish for another escape like Lucien’s.”
“There is a simpler solution, Your Majesty. One that would avoid moving them,” I say carefully. There are no cells at the Crux. It’s minimum security at best. Besides, keeping Jaret and the two Tower wizards who aided Diran away from magiline is our safest option.
“And what is that?” she asks as she starts placing tiles back into their starting pattern.
“If we could set up a simple guard rotation of wizards to come to the palace, we could easily avoid what happened with Lucien.” It’s the same plan Arlon initially posed, but for some reason, I think the Queen may consider it from me.
Tramella hums as she finishes setting her tiles.
The Royal Guard was set up around the Crux to keep an eye on us, and I have no doubt she and Thermilious initially declined this idea because it would mean having wizards doing the same inside of the palace.
The Crown used their secrecy to torture Lucien, but if I can get a guard rotation set up, I can put a stop to that practice.
“Your Majesty, the Crux is capable of being Straetham’s greatest tool,” I say gently.
“And an even greater weapon,” she says, some of that same derision from our first meeting returning.
It’s not just dislike, I realize. She fears magic. Has seen just enough to know how dangerous it could be if turned against her or her family.
“The Crucible has already broken ground, Your Majesty,” I say with a small smile. “I hope that come opening night, you will accept my personal invitation and see that magic is capable of being so much more than a fickle weapon.”
The Queen gives a delicate huff of a laugh as she studies me. Finally, she waves a hand. “Fine. Set up your rotation. Lio is heading the Royal Guard while Thora is with my son. I will tell him to expect your wizards.”
I give another polite bow. “Thank you, Your Majesty.”
“Was the Crux checking the shields the other day?” she asks as she flips the end tiles of her pattern face up. “There were reports of a flash from the main tower.”
Gods, it was visible even from here? I hide my surprise behind a placid smile. The Queen is already distrustful of magic, but I have a feeling keeping the truth from her would be foolish. We’re trying to rebuild the trust, after all.
“No, Your Majesty,” I say, reaching for the focus Arlon left me without thought. “I’m not sure what caused the flash, but I’m looking into it. The Crux is... a marvel. One I’m still becoming acquainted with as Grandmaster.”
The Queen doesn’t seem impressed by that, her lips pulling into a thin line as she hums. “Do tell me what you discover, then,” she says. “In the meantime, is there anything else you wished to share with me, Grandmaster?”
“No, Your Majesty, that was all. Unless you are looking for a partner to play with,” I say as I look over the exposed tiles.