The next few days passed quickly. I had decided to look into the matter of Sources more on my own before bothering Tissaia again, but both the Cintran library and my own modest collection proved less than helpful.

  While I was able to glean some new insights from my copy of Ard Aercane, one of the oldest books about magic, what I really desired was comprehensive advice in dealing with young, unawakened Sources. Ard Aercane only had some advice on training the already awakened ones while also advising any mages to travel to Loc Muinne and ask the elven sages there for help. This was still better than any other book I consulted, as most tended to merely acknowledge the existence of Sources, if even that.

  Even so, this information was not terribly helpful as Loc Muinne had been razed to the ground by humankind centuries ago. While asking elves for help wasn’t bad advice per se, considering their magical tradition had a head start of a couple thousand years, the times when the Aen Seidhe would willingly part with such knowledge were unsurprisingly long gone, if they ever existed in the first place.

  More importantly, the fact that Pavetta could be a Source was very much considered a state secret, as such knowledge would impact her chances of marrying greatly. The Queen had not told me so when I had informed her of my suspicions, however, and she did not seem to be someone who liked stating the obvious.

  To regular people, there was no real difference between a Source and a normal mage. Though this might not seem like an issue, the problem stemmed from the fact that Pavetta was very much a national asset, whose main value lay in her eventual husband and the children she’d eventually produce.

  Combined with the common knowledge of mages being infertile, her possible nature as a Source was a recipe for disaster. If the public caught wind of it, most would conclude that Pavetta was very likely to be barren, not understanding the difference between a Source and a normal mage. Any information to the contrary would be summarily ignored.

  Calanthé’s own match had been impacted similarly. Due to her spending a lot of time with her cousin Meve in her teenage years, all the while refusing to marry, rumours ended up circulating. From promiscuity to incest, the gossip made it even to Aretuza. While rather silly from a modern perspective, this smear campaign resulted in Calanthé marrying below her station, ultimately weakening Cintra as a whole.

  In other words, treason. I couldn’t risk spreading this around and anyone with half a brain would realise that me asking around about raising Sources had something to do with Cintra’s only heir.

  Which left just Tissaia, who I trusted not to let such a thing slip. As Pavetta’s very nature was political, I was confident that she’d keep any such information to herself, as any action to the contrary would be a black mark against the Brotherhood’s neutrality. Doing so would also risk our relationship, something I doubted the Rectoress was keen on after investing so much of her time into me.

  Researching Sources wasn’t the only thing that occupied me.

  Some time had been wasted getting a proper court-worthy outfit from a tailor Haxo recommended, though this, unfortunately, cut into my available funds by more than I had expected. Quality, hand-crafted items were expensive.

  On the plus side, I was the proud new owner of a very functional riding outfit in Cintran blue alongside a brooch in the shape of a golden lion, which I wore pinned to my dress.

  I had also looked more into the current political situation in Cintra and the court here and the local history books, which mercifully matched those I had read in Aretuza in preparation for my post. After checking out some detailed local maps as well as a few accounting books, I had started tentatively putting together a few proposals to show the Queen. If my fears of Nilfgaard materialised, of which I had little doubt, since the whole matter had the fingerprints of that pretender god all over it, then Cintra would need to prepare.

  Not an insignificant amount of my time had been spent observing the Princess, mostly out of paranoia, as I had little doubt that any incidents would likely end up being blamed on my head, but Pavetta didn’t do anything out of the ordinary. Much to the dissatisfaction of Gera, who did not seem to like my new outfit much, though she had at least kept silent this time.

  The Princess mostly just waddled around while her minders oohed and ahhed, though she already had some lessons, as befitting of a royal.

  Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

  In between my other duties, I had carved proper defensive wards into my new abode. After erasing the temporary traveling wards, I was left with a reasonably secure home. Barring siege equipment, any non-mage would find it very difficult to enter without my invitation. Finally secure, I began experimenting with Alzur’s Double Cross on the local rodent population. It quickly became obvious that this would be a long-term project, neither my grasp of the spell nor my understanding of biology was up to the task yet.

  Now, standing behind Calanthé’s throne alongside Marshal Vissegerd, I was fulfilling perhaps the dullest part of my duties.

  “Now entering, Baron Eylembert of Tigg!” The loud voice of the herald announced before the man closed the doors behind himself, though I barely registered it at this point.

  The Queen was entertaining semi-private audiences, with only me, the Marshall, and the current supplicant present. In my short stay here, I had already learned that this was not unusual. In fact, my own audience should be the last one today.

  I did my best not to look bored as another noble entered the courtroom. I had been attentive the first few times, but the petitions the nobility came here with were painfully repetitive. It was also very obvious that those outside of the Cintrian Capital only wanted to speak with the still-not-present King. When they found out they’d have to deal with the Queen, they did their best to be as disrespectful as possible without crossing the line. I had been the object of a few stray shots as well, since my station was a lot lower than the Queen’s, though the nobles mostly changed targets once they saw that I didn’t care.

  This was in stark contrast to the nobility residing in the Capital, who were respectful, often even happy when they realised the King was not present.

  Being on the receiving end of childish insults was nothing when compared to artillery spells, so I did not really mind. At least they provided some variety in the otherwise monotone audiences. No, the worst thing about it was how boring it was, but that did not change the fact that it was peaceful.

  I had thought that the nobility would come in with matters of governance and law, that I would learn a great deal of Cintra’s inner workings and that it would be an all-around productive use of my time.

  But most of the time they came here with nonsense!

  ‘I believe Duke Very-Long-Name has one sixteenth elvish blood, the Crown should forbid him from marrying.’

  ‘Count Borivoj owes me six hundred ducats and doesn’t want to pay me!’

  ‘Baron Mysliwski shot one of my hounds during a hunt!’

  Those were just today’s highlights. I always knew that the effectiveness brought upon by the centralisation of power in authoritarian regimes was mostly a myth, but this was taking it too far.

  At this point, I was fairly checked out. Of course, I still kept watch for danger, but I was no longer paying much attention to the supplicants.

  This was why the unholy screech that resounded through the throne room took me completely off guard.

  My eyes widened as I registered the cry, originating somewhere near the noble. I didn’t understand how anyone could have snuck what must have been some sort of a reptilian monster into the castle, but a skilled illusionist was likely.

  “Gynvael a'baeth,” I whispered under my breath, an icy mist immediately spreading throughout the room. Instead of the mist letting me see the outline of an invisible opponent, I saw… nothing.

  I was brought out of my momentary confusion by the loud guffaws coming from the throne.

  “This,” Calanthé wheezed, “This is your best one yet, Coodcoodak!”

  Vissegerd wiped a bit of condensed water from his pauldron, shooting me a dirty look.

  I still didn’t understand what was going on, though it at least was clear that there were no hostiles. But Coodcoodak? The noble who came was called Eggbert or something, I definitely would have remembered a name like that.

  Hearing Calanthé’s words, the noble gave a bow, “I live to serve, Your Majesty.”

  Then he crowed like a rooster.

  My expression slipped as I put two and two together.

  A quick mutter of “Gaeth,” cleaned up any remaining traces of the mist.

  I staunchly ignored the still-chuckling Queen, examining the man instead. He was a short, thin man with a whiskered moustache and short brown hair.

  Seemingly unremarkable, but if he was doing whatever this was supposed to be in front of the Queen, then I’d best take note.

  “I apologise for my overreaction, Your Majesty. The Baron,” he was definitely a baron, though I wasn’t sure about the name, ”startled me.”

  “Oh, I saw,” Calanthé chuckled. I stared straight ahead, determined to salvage some shreds of my image.

  This wasn’t good, but I couldn’t have expected such a skilful breach of etiquette. It’d be one thing if the baron had started shouting or some such, but his animal impressions were far too good. Had I heard them in another context, I would be tempted to congratulate the man as a fellow professional on a craft well-honed, even if I didn’t understand why a noble would spend any time at all on such a thing, let alone the countless hours of training the Baron’s feat must have required.