The carriage jumped as it passed under the gates to the capital. Pashar shifted through her folders gathering her thoughts. Opposite her, Principal Ragnar rhythmically tapped his cane against the floor, his head resting against the wooden wall behind him.

She took in a centering breath. “There are some concerns from the Council about all the changes we’ve instated in the academy since your take over as principal.”

Ragnar slowly blinked his eyes open, lowering his head with slow deliberation. His half lidded gaze settling on her with a predator’s intensity. An elusrian predator that is. But Pashar had seen the real deal, she’d stood face to face with tethered who’d eat Ragnar for breakfast and wouldn’t pause before reaching for their next meal. With those memories playing in the back of her mind, he felt like a kitten imitating the jaguar.

“They’ll have to take it.” He cleared his throat. “The Queen needed to see that we were going to change how things were run, so we needed to make some big changes.”

Pashar nodded, noting his answer down on her slate tablet with a piece of chalk before picking up her folder again.

“They know that too, they just don’t like that things have to change.” Ragnar let out a long sigh, as he took up the tapping again.

“Not many people do.” Pashar muttered, as he flipped through the pages. The old man let out a snort of laughter.

Confirming that most of the other subjects could wait until later, she put the folders down again. “I wanted to talk about Student Ranvir, as well.”

The principal of the Royal Academy of War, sighed as he reached up with a three-fingered hand and rubbed his scarred face. “I hate politics.”

Pashar cleared her throat, but kept from outright calling him on his lie. He could tell himself what he wanted, he was the one who chose to play the politician’s game after he got injured. No one plays those kind of games for almost forty years because they hate them.

“What about him?” He turned his cold obsidian stare on her, it wasn’t an outright glare but it was playing in that neighborhood.

“I think we should bring him in.” Pashar said, carefully keeping her voice calm. “We’ve played up being the bad guy. And its been long enough, he’s had time to cool down. We have knowledge to offer, like the siege stations.”

Ragnar waved her off with a dismissive hand. “We’re not going to give away a secret like the siege stations to a child, no matter how much you like him.” He grimaced. “His worth is in his friends. We do need to move at some point, but we don’t have to offer him anything so drastic.” He gestured idly. “Give him a raise.”

Pashar sighed. “With all due respect, he’s not from the city. He’s from a nowhere village, with maybe three hundred people to its name.” A bit of an understatement, but she wanted her point to get across. “He’s already got more money than he can feasibly spend back home. And with the currently limited access to the capital, he’s got no money to spend here.”

“Still,” Ragnar sounded exasperated. “We can’t give him the information on siege stations. We’re not even supposed to know about them, let alone some kid who fancies himself a scholar.”

Pashar pressed her lips together, though she refrained from rolling her eyes. “He’s friends with Grevor Starstone and he’s quickly reconciling his differences with Dovar Sworden.” And it’s only a matter of time before that boy joins their valiant group of trainees. “We need- It would make things a lot easier, with those two firmly on our side.”

“Then we’ll win them to our side.” Ragnar gave her a long look. “You’ve said it yourself, they’re dedicated to their training. Master Sigurd has already been attached as a private teacher to Dovar Sworden, so he’ll be washing the boy in praise and telling him about the great things he can do for the academy and the army. And Grevor is already quite devoted to training and the army.”

Pashar considered arguing further, but could sense Ragnar digging his heels in. Of all the people she’d worked with over the years, the principal was simultaneously one of the best and most annoying. One of Ragnar’s preferred methods of bringing a group together, especially if they would work for him was to overwhelm and dazzle them. Of course, it didn’t work all the time, but combined with his unparalleled confidence it worked far more often that she’d initially guess. That he’d rely so heavily on a single tactic, especially with a group this packed. She ground her teeth and shut her mouth. A fight for another time. “Yes, sir.”

Ragnar snorted another laugh, his lips tweaking into a cocky grin before he looked out the window.

They rode in silence until they arrived in front of the Crown Palace and debarked up the stairs to the massive oaken gates. Ragnar grunting as he struggled up the massive steps. Pashar hurried ahead and spoke with the attendant at the door. By the time the old Master reached them, the attendant was ready to lead them into a sitting room where they would wait for Her Majesty, The Queen Minul II.

“Such a fuss.” Ragnar grumbled, reclining deeper into the couch and stretching out his wounded leg. Pashar didn’t reply, standing off to the side. It was a richly appointed room in the royal colors of red and white. At the center sat the couch Ragnar was currently splayed out on, a small table, and a throne-like chair for the Queen. Various tapestries depicting the great moments in Elusria’s relatively short history. Each tapestry was colored red, with the depiction marked out in white with accents of gold. It was an expensive display, even for Pashar’s standards and she eyed each of them with approval.

Fortunately, it didn’t take long before the door swung open and a man in matching red and white entered the room, holding a massive hollow staff in both hands. Tassels of white, red, and the occasional gold hanging from the top. Ragnar struggled to his feet, before lowering onto one knee, Pashar lithely following his movement from behind the couch.

The herald slammed the staff into the ground, sending out an echoing thud that bounced through the air oddly. Pashar winced, her senses reacting to the noise. She felt the quivering disturbance echo all the way to her tether, sending a shiver through the smoky strings.

She bit her lip, only listening with half an ear as the herald began naming all the queen’s titles and her claims to glory. She hadn’t seen an asarin since leaving Ankiria, let alone one so expertly crafted that it could discomfort her.

She blinked, realizing the herald had fallen silent. After the echoing thrums of his staff and voice, the lack of noise seemed almost thick, causing her tether to hitch in its spin for a moment. She heard the rustle of cloth as someone moved through the room.

“You may rise.” The Queen, Minul II, spoke. Her voice was harder than Pashar usually associated with royalty. She could hear the military training, the touch of command evident in her voice, something she hadn’t heard from any royalty she’d met previously. Not that she’d met many.

Pashar rose carefully, taking in a deep breath, as she twitched her tether lightly. Not enough that it would register to any tethered in the room, but enough that she could gain a proper sense.

She scented the old stone’s edge obsidian of Ragnar first, as he was the closest. Then weaker scents, ones she was less familiar with. An edge infinitely sharp with a hint of ancient strength behind it, that would be the Queen with her powerful ancestry. Someone weak, smelling of lazing under a hot summer sun.

Pashar frowned, as she caught a flicker of something else. Something old and familiar. A smell at first like a childhood game, that turned to a quiet danger. Her breath left Pashar in a rush and she had to support herself against the couch before she fell. Swallowing she stood fully, just a moment behind the injured old man.

It was like she thought. The Queen had seated herself on the throne opposite Ragnar’s couch. Behind her to the left, was a young girl who couldn’t be much more than fifteen or sixteen, just barely beginning her journey as a tethered and already serving as a messenger for the Queen. The herald had failed to show up to her senses as anything but a civilian.

Behind the Queen to her right, stood an older tethered. He might’ve been Ragnar’s age, though Ragnar’s scars made it harder to judge. His hair and beard had turned gray on the sides. Though the main portion remained thick and black as night. He was wearing a looser fit than the normal for Elusria, though it held more protection against the growing cold than what that usual uniform came with.

His brown skin, a hint darker than hers, clashed oddly with the pale skin of the Elusrians, but his surety and self confidence almost made the others look like they were out of place. He held a bone deep certainty in his own power that only those who’d wielded power for a long time could truly display.

Orange eyes burning with an inner glow stared back at her brown with a quirked eyebrow. Pashar struggled to swallow, before nodding to the older man. He gave her a warm smile and nodded back, she felt the scent of danger fade back into childhood play, then disappeared all together. She first stopped augmenting her tether senses, without which she couldn’t stretch her senses far enough without being both rude and obvious.

“Principal Ragnar.” The Queen said. “I have summoned you to talk about the Master’s Council. As I’m sure you’re aware they’ve been skirmishing with the Lord’s Council in the dark for decades at this point.”

“Yes, my Queen.”

“At first it was fine. It caused both Council to perform better. A little healthy competition is good for both parties.” Her lips thinned as she glared at Master opposite her. “So long as it remains a healthy competition, it is welcome. I hope I don’t have to explain that healthy competition does not affect the citizen of Elusria.” Her jaw visibly flexed.

Pashar couldn’t help but applaud the Queen. She was young when she came to power and according to many she was still little more than a child. She would have to interrogate Ragnar for his opinion after their audience.

“You have many connections within the Master’s Council, you know more than a few personally, no?”

Ragnar nodded. “Yes, your Majesty.”

“Tell them this. Their position is neither as firm or necessary as they think it is. I am tired of having babysit grown men and women squabbling against their allies for a bigger piece of a pie they’re both ruining.”

The jerk in Ragnar’s tether was not only noticeable but felt by all in the room, even the weak and poorly trained light tether. Though, Pashar doubted the herald could pinpoint where the sensation came from.

“Yes, your Majesty.” Ragnar nearly growled, nodding.

“Dismissed.”

Ragnar bowed once more. “Thank you, my Queen.” Supporting himself on his cane, he rose to his feet and stepped towards the door they’d come from. Pashar briefly shared a glance with the ankirian advisor, before following behind her principal.

A different attendant was waiting for them outside the room and quickly led them out of the palace. They were still on the steps when Ragnar snorted a laugh. “That girl should leave politics for her advisors. She really thinks she can threaten the Lords- and Master’s Council with dissolution? Elusria’s had councils since before its founding.” He let out a scornful laughter.

Pashar’s lips thinned. She would’ve agreed with him, but the Saif’s presence in the room unnerved her. “Does that mean you’re not going to do as she says?”

Ragnar stopped, his cane resting on a step beneath him. “Of course not. She’s my Queen. Just because she’s bad at making threats doesn’t mean I’m going to rebel.” To Pashar’s surprise he sounded genuinely offended. “I fight for Elusria and my Queen. I want to see her succeed. Even if she’s somewhat incompetent.”

Incompetent? Pashar almost scoffed at the notion. Minul wasn’t like her last two predecessors who let the Councils run the country. She’d taken an active hand in ruling, even before her ascent to the throne. Beyond that, she’d harnessed her ancestry to great effect and was already a powerful tethered in her own right. It was only a question of time before she became a Master. Not a long time either.

Pashar looked at Ragnar out of the corner of her eye. Could he really be so blind?