Silver Silence

Drunk History & Bluebirds

The throne room could have fit two dozen elephants, and yet the tapestry along the walls still circled twice. Its history, sewn into existence over three hundred years, marched along in a steady, predictable progression. Beginning with a splattering of violent red thread, trickling towards blue peace treaties, green progress, then red and blue and green again. Every leader ascended the throne convinced that their plans were unique, that the addition to the tapestry after their death would be extraordinary. But nobody could invent a new color.

"Just imagine it, the beauty, how it will stand out among the dull din of those other vermin." The latest queen addressed the tapestry with a wave of her hand, pale skin hanging from her fingers like a glove that didn't quite fit. None of her skin fit right, not when her diet consisted only of the wine clutched in her other hand. The liquid shivered in its glass as she lifted it to her lips, unsteady and blood red just as her addition to the tapestry would inevitably be.

The man beside the Queen said nothing, but she expected nothing. They shared a mutual respect for each other's cruelties, and a mutual disrespect for each other's political views. Aside from their battle plans and arguments, they had nothing to talk about.

Their arguments reached legendary heights, broken chairs and glass and debris littering the battlefield even when voices were thrown in place of fists. Or at least they did in Siles' mind. In reality, the clash between his perspective and the Queen's would always be a losing battle. Her opinion had been upheld for over three hundred years, entrenched in the tapestry that stained the wall like an unholy bible. Her kind was the ruling class, his kind the ruled. Magicians triumphed over the powerless by definition. So Siles said nothing, saving his breath for an argument he could win.

When a servant entered the room, the earth trembled underfoot until she fell to her knees for balance. The Queen would never use her powers to the extent of causing damage to the throne room, but she pushed it just enough to terrify all who entered. The servant remained on her knees even after the trembling stopped, her hands pressed to the tile floor to brace herself. Her voice came out a weak whisper, "Your highness, the Council requests your presence at the weekly meeting."

It was nothing more than a formality – the invitation, not the meeting. The Queen had not been to a single Council meeting since her crowning ceremony, and the invitations brought the same expression to her face as the sight of a fly in her wine. However, according to a law implemented by one of her predecessors seventy years ago, the Council was required to notify the Queen of their activities.

"Guard," said the Queen, flicking her hand towards Siles.

Siles nodded, following the servant out of the room. Despite her disdain for the meetings, the Queen liked reassurance that nobody was plotting against her, which meant Siles served as her ambassador to the ambassadors. Technically, she had little reason to expect loyalty from Siles, either, but she knew just as well as he did that he would always follow the safest path. Fortunately for her, the safest path was her path so long as she was sober enough to wield the powers she had been born with. No magician dared confront an earth-shaker.

The castle's corridors twisted and turned, the absence of corners making it a maze for every new guest. The unique design had prevented the escape of many prisoners, and of many foreign envoys who found out too late that their presence was not welcome. But the servant beside him knew the twists well, as did Siles after a decade of bored wandering, and they reached the Council within minutes.

"The Queen's Guard," the servant announced him, stepping into the Council's meeting room just ahead of Siles, then retreating as soon as she knew she had been heard. Every castle servant was trained to act like a frightened mouse – it swelled the magicians' egos – but this one struck Siles as particularly meek. He couldn't remember whether she had always been that way or had developed the trait more recently, but he didn't really care. What the magicians did to the servants was none of his business.

None of the magicians seated at the center of the room gave the servant anything more than a glance, so it was unlikely that any of them had hurt the girl. The Councilmembers sat around their circular table like bluebirds huddled for warmth, their royal blue winter cloaks wrapped around them like wings. Given that they fought over metaphorical breadcrumbs every week, their appearances weren't far from their true selves. Siles joined them, his black cloak marking the difference between them, and nodded for them to begin.

The woman opposite Siles didn't hesitate to speak. Her harsh voice echoed off the domed ceiling, her silver hair and rod-straight posture emphasizing her sense of self-importance. "The main issue of today's meeting is the possibility of problems in Tern."

A young man interrupted her as she took a breath, completely unconcerned by the glare she sent in response. "The guards stationed in Tern say the town hall has become much busier than it used to be. We were thinking you could check it out, maybe dispose of a few naysayers." He smiled at Siles, his gaze wandering curiously along the mask that covered Siles' face.

August was the youngest member of the Council, and the deadliest. His abilities included mind control, and although he had signed a contract promising not to use his abilities against the crown, the other members of the Council treated him with a certain level of wariness.

Siles had nothing to worry about, of course, since magic didn't affect him. But August's lack of hard feelings towards him for his immunity was unnerving. Instead of treating Siles as an obstacle, August studied him like a scientist studied a mouse in a maze.

"Right," Anna continued, tugging the shawl beneath her cloak tighter. Everyone knew she had hoped to ascend the throne after the current queen, but Queen Samira's reign thus far had outlasted the duration of most warrior queens and kings. In the past, the public and sometimes other magicians had responded to violent rulers with assassinations after they had grown tired of the bloodshed, but unlike her predecessors, Samira had Siles. As a result, time had passed, Anna's hair had greyed, and her matching grey shawl began to grace her shoulders even during the summer months. Her prime had come and gone, along with any chance of her claiming the throne.

Nevertheless, she tried to pretend she had some level of control over the Council. "As August mentioned, the civilians are participating in suspicious activity." She fixed her gaze on Siles. "Try to fix it as quietly as you can, otherwise we'll have an uprising on our hands."

The mention of an uprising sparked a brief choir of sighs around the table. The balance of power was tipped so far in the magicians' favor that an uprising was nothing more than an inconvenience, but an inconvenience it still was. If an uprising were to grow unchecked, they would have to kill scores of citizens - citizens who paid the taxes that supported the magicians' extravagant way of living.

Siles nodded, making a mental note to mention his temporary leave of absence to the Queen when he returned to the throne room. His response to Anna's request, and lack of response to August's, finally brought a frown to the young man's face. Siles smiled under his mask. He would take anger over inexplicable curiosity any day.

The rest of the meeting covered tax changes – mostly increases, with one exception in the case of a town that had recently seen a tornado flatten its infrastructure – and a brief discussion as to whether it would be wise maintain their alliance with the neighboring realm when said realm was about to go to war with a kingdom to the south. A war would cost money, after all – money that would otherwise line their pockets.

Siles remained silent; as the queen's direct representative, he technically had a say, but including himself in the discussion required caring about the topics discussed. Just as with the Queen, his opinions on the topics he actually cared about contrasted with those of the actual Magicians, and there was no point in fighting a losing battle.

After the meeting came to a close and the royal bluebirds fluttered out with their cloaks wrapped tight against the cold, Siles returned to the throne room.

"I'll be in a border town, Tern, for a few days. There's a possible uprising."

The Queen grunted in response, slouched in her chair with an empty wineglass tipped sideways in one hand. Siles glanced to the servant girl just outside the door, and she nodded. If the Queen didn't remember where he was after she sobered up, her frightened mouse could tell her. Siles left the throne room once again, climbing the stairs to his chambers. It was time to fight for the winning side.