Alistair left the Council Chamber with his usual lack of enthusiasm.
As expected, the ministers were still useless.
They talked about Aurion. They worried about Aurion. But none of them actually did anything.
That, of course, was Alistair's job.
Unfortunately, his already busy schedule was about to get even worse.
Cedric, his ever-loyal aide, rushed into the room, looking unusually pale.
Alistair rubbed his temples. "What now?"
Cedric held up a sealed letter.
"It's from the Magic Tower."
Alistair's hand froze mid-motion.
Then, with a sigh, he took the letter and broke the seal.
As he read the contents, his blue eyes darkened.
"…Damn it."
Cedric shifted nervously. "Bad news?"
Alistair placed the letter down. "The worst kind."
Cedric swallowed. "What does the Tower want?"
Alistair leaned back, crossing his arms.
"They want a meeting."
Cedric blinked. "With… you?"
Alistair nodded. "The High Magus himself has personally requested my presence."
Silence.
Then—
"…Sir, I'm not a mage, but even I know that's insane."
Alistair sighed. "You're not wrong."
The Magic Tower was notoriously independent. It rarely got involved in Imperial politics, and when it did, it was always on its own terms.
For the High Magus—one of the most powerful figures in the world—to suddenly request a meeting with him?
Something was very, very wrong.
Cedric hesitated. "Are you going to accept?"
Alistair scoffed. "Do I have a choice?"
Cedric paled even more.
"…Do you want me to prepare your will?"
Alistair gave him a blank stare.
"…Get out."
Cedric fled the room.
Alistair sighed.
A meeting with the High Magus.
This was going to be a headache.
End of Chapter 11