A knock echoed at Queen Silvania's study door. She didn't need to answer; the door opened with expected formality.
"Your Majesty, Archmage Edictus and his apprentice."
Silvania gently set her quill aside. "Let them enter. I was expecting them."
Edictus entered, imposing in his gray and wine-toned robes, followed by a young man with a serene, almost unchangeable face. His hair was tied in a perfectly neat ponytail that fell over his right shoulder. His attire was a simplified version of his master's robe: clean, austere, and unadorned. He walked with a firm stride, yet with the humility of one who had not yet felt the weight of office.
"I came as soon as I could, Majesty," Edictus said, gesturing with his hand towards the boy. "This is my apprentice, Dyan Halvest. He has already achieved the rank of advanced mage and has been admitted into the circle. I hope his presence does not displease you."
"It's no problem," Silvania replied, without changing her tone. She extended a parchment across the desk towards the Archmage. "Spies in Balder report they are preparing to cross our borders."
Edictus took the parchment gravely, his expression turning sterner. "Just as we feared… War was inevitable." He read the report quickly. "Glacius is near the northern border. It will be their first target."
"I worry we don't have enough troops to sustain a long campaign," Silvania said, clenching her fist on the desk. Her sky-blue eyes took on an icy gleam, as if she already saw smoke over the fields. "The last war with Balder lasted years. I don't want to repeat that history."
Edictus brought a hand to his chin in a habitual gesture of reflection. His face, bony and pale, along with his stern gaze, contributed to his unyielding air.
"I could send mages from the Tower. Well-led, they could tip the balance. Magic was purged in Balder long ago. They are not prepared to face trained sorcerers."
"How many can you lend me?"
"Twenty experienced mages will suffice."
Silvania nodded, relieved. "Will you lead them? That would reassure me."
Edictus shook his head with a tired smile. "I'm no longer young enough to gallop to the border, Majesty. This time, Dyan will go."
The queen straightened up. Her eyes fixed on the young man, piercing him like steel blades. The slight relief she had felt vanished. Her copper hair, still bright despite the years, seemed to ignite under the midday light streaming through the window.
Silence.
She observed the boy carefully. He was young, too young. His expression was hard, imperturbable, as if he had trained his whole life not to show weakness.
"You don't need to look at him like that," Edictus interjected, with a hint of amusement in his voice. "He has accompanied me on the last two campaigns at Fort Frontier. He knows very well what needs to be done."
Silvania sighed, bringing a hand to her head, tangling her fingers in her hair in frustration. "It's not that. It's just… I don't want to bear the guilt if something happens to your apprentice. You'll blame me afterwards."
"I wouldn't send him if he weren't prepared," Edictus said with conviction. "Besides, my body is not suited for such journeys, and I no longer have the desire to undertake them." He patted the boy's back proudly. "Perhaps one day he will take my place."
Silvania stepped out from behind the desk. She stopped in front of Dyan, and with her fingertips, she lifted his chin, as if expecting him to recoil. But he didn't move. He let her do it without changing his expression.
"You are brave, at least. How old are you?"
"Fifteen, Majesty."
Edictus interjected with a disguised smile. "Are you going to intimidate my apprentice?"
"I'm testing him," Silvania replied without looking away. "You trust him. But I don't know him."
However, what she found in Dyan's eyes was not arrogance or fear, but something deeper: a quiet resignation, an iron solitude. It was a gaze she knew very well, for it was the same one she had seen reflected for years in her own face, every morning in front of the mirror.
"You are very young for war. Aren't you afraid?"
"No, Majesty. I was trained to do my duty, and I will."
Silvania lowered her hand, but a unease had already settled within her. "Alright, I will trust your judgment, Edictus. But if anything goes wrong…"
"Then not even my presence would have changed destiny," the Archmage said serenely. "You cannot bear all the failures of the kingdom."
"Sometimes I have to anyway." The queen returned to her seat with a tired gesture. "You will depart at dawn." And addressing Dyan, she added, "I hope luck is on your side. It would be a shame not to get to know you better."
"Do not worry, Majesty," the boy said, with a firmness that did not seem forced. "I will do my duty, at any cost."
…
Silvania remembered that conversation with painful clarity. Not for the words, but for the gaze. That distant hardness, that sharp emptiness in the apprentice's eyes, was identical to the one she had carried for years after the king's departure. A man she never loved, but deeply respected.
She remembered how they walked away from the hall, Dyan's silver hair swaying behind him, his figure rigid and determined. A trained beast, who knew how to obey even when obedience hurt.
Many things had changed since then. She herself was one of them.
She had aged. Her hair, once a brilliant copper, was now a tide of silver interrupted by a handful of fiery strands that refused to be extinguished. Her skin was finer, paler. Her hands were still firm, but mirrors had disappeared from her chambers years ago. She couldn't bear to see death watching her every morning from her own face.
Edictus had died more than a decade ago. A silent and tenacious illness, whose existence she denied until the last moment, as if by doing so she could conjure its disappearance. But one day, he simply did not return.
And Dyan had naturally and with dignity taken his place. He had been in wars, in negotiations, in her most difficult nights. She had molded him as a counselor… and, without realizing it, also as something more.
She took a sip of the bitter concoction that kept her organs functioning, that poison that gave her one more day in exchange for exhausting her a little more.
She had abdicated believing she could heal. A year, maybe two. It had already been ten. How many years had passed since that first encounter?
Her thoughts wandered. The breeze carried the scent of jasmines from the courtyard and lemon trees from the hillside. She closed her eyes for a moment, breathing the perfume of memories. Dyan was due to return in a few months to check on her health, as he usually did every season… but she missed him. With a force that hurt.
Perhaps tonight she would write.
Or that feeling would end up festering in her soul.