The Warlord

Chapter 10: Calliope

I grow bored of the eager-to-please scribe's consistent bows and praises as he records the words tumbling from my mouth.

After the last sentence, imploring Heaven to consider my proposition, is jotted down on the parchment, I wave a hand at him. Brisk, cold dismissal. He waddles away, head bowed the whole time.

After the metal door closes behind him, I flatten out the letter on the table before me. Taking a deep breath in, I channel my magic into the tip of my right index finger, letting the power build up. A simple alteration to the portal symbol, and a few concealment seals are all that will be needed to complete the letter. I place my finger and begin to trace out the insignia, leaving an engraving of each mark I make. Slowly, carefully... The process is agonizingly long, and soon enough the smell of burnt paper begins to fill the room. But I finally manage to close the symbol, and a ripple of magic spreads throughout the palace.

The concealment seals take less time; only simple spells to fade and hide the insignia. Immediately after I finish the letter, the balmy breezes of the wind spirit spiral into the throne room. They snatch the letter away from my table and whisk out the window, up into the sky. Galvan's reedy-voiced angels will get a hold of it, and then it will be off to the Top Order for review.

I lean back on my throne, the silver armrests cold against my skin. Here in my empty throne room, with its huge windows and marbled floors and thick curtains, I am completely alone. A bird trapped in an extravagant cage. Heaven's agents are always watching, looking for any sign of me outside, so I suppose my captivity in this palace is for the best. Serestine would be helpless without a ruler.

The sun slowly makes its way towards the horizon, and the wait is achingly long. I keep my face passive as the maids make their daily rounds, as the butler offers me tea, and as a few local nobles discuss policies concerning their domains. Yet inside my head the stress is running amok, spiking up fear and anxiety. If they do not accept the proposition... I do not continue the thought, instead trying to focus my attention on the young lord speaking his case to grant his territory more wells.

"...my region was poor to begin with, my queen. We barely made it through summer, but now, the wells are starting to freeze. Winter is near, and my people need water to not only provide for themselves but to also grow their share of crops for Serestine. I implore you to take my suggestion into consideration." He bows at my feet, his lips literally kissing the ground. Quite the sight.

"I shall think about it." Hope glimmers in the lord's eyes as he rises and showers me with praise before leaving, bouncing with each step.

I am about to call for the butler to bring in the next noble when a sharp breeze snaps into the room, blowing the curtains aside in a dramatic flourish. "The messengers of Heaven have sent me to notify you that your proposition has been accepted."

I almost cannot believe my ears as the wind spirit whisks away, its job done. For a fleeting moment, I allow myself to rejoice, allow my heart to warm with jubilance and happiness. Then I pull it away, placing an iron cage over it. I cannot afford to get carried away with this slim chance that has been given to us.

Sending a ripple of magic throughout Serestine, I summon my warlord, adding urgency into my request. She appears in an instant, pulled here by the bond from an oath between us.

"My queen, has Heaven accepted the proposition?" She is breathless with anticipation, breathless with eagerness.

I allow myself a smile as I stare into my warlord's battle-hardened face and say, "Yes."