Leon was not entirely sure how he had ended up at the head of the table.
The previous day had been eventful, certainly. He had walked into a gate, spoken to a dragon, and then accidentally terrified half the camp.
But none of that explained the chair.
He paused at the entrance of the command tent, staring. The chair at the head of the long table sat empty. His usual seat did not, the one that was unremarkable and mid-table and allowed him to look engaged while actually thinking about other things.
Someone else was occupying it.
Leon frowned.
Had they rearranged things?
A few commanders glanced up from their discussions and noticed him standing there. Conversations immediately quieted.
Far too many eyes turned in his direction. One of the officers stood.
"High Archmage."
Others followed.
Leon froze. Why were they standing?
Slowly, carefully, he looked behind him. Nothing. No king. Nobody important.
Just him.
"Ah," Leon said.
The officer nearest the chair gestured toward it.
"Please."
Leon stared at the chair. Then at the officer. Then back at the chair.
Nobody appeared willing to sit down until he did.
Right.
King Alderon had returned to the capital weeks ago, taking Lord Casimir and some of the court administration with him.
Someone had to oversee the meetings and discussions at the gate. Apparently everyone had decided that someone was Leon.
Without informing Leon.
Helpful.
He walked forward and lowered himself into the chair. The room relaxed.
Leon immediately wished it hadn't.
The moment he sat down, every gaze settled on him.
Waiting.
He had nothing prepared. The silence stretched. Leon cleared his throat.
"Well."
The room remained silent.
Wonderful.
This was apparently his meeting now. He glanced around the table.
Leon had survived countless meetings in his previous life. The secret had always been simple.
Look attentive. Say as little as possible. Let someone else talk.
He'd even become reasonably competent at surviving council meetings. At following the current of discussion, contributing when asked, deflecting technical questions with vague expertise and confident delivery.
Unfortunately, that strategy worked significantly worse when everyone expected him to begin.
"Reports?" he offered.
The reaction was immediate.
As though he'd opened a floodgate, commanders launched into updates. Supply lines were secure, defensive positions remained stable, patrols had reported nothing unusual.
The gate remained open and the dragon remained beyond it. No movement had been observed.
Leon nodded occasionally.
The reports blended together.
The meeting, objectively, was going badly.
Not contentiously - that would have been manageable. Contentious meetings had clear positions to navigate, factions to balance, specific points of friction that could be identified and addressed. This meeting was bad in a different way. A quieter, more unsettling way.
Everyone was being too agreeable.
He'd noticed it as soon as the session began. The Solmaran generals, who had spent weeks challenging every Aldorian position on principle, were offering minimal pushback. The Aldorian commanders, usually vocal about supply logistics and troop distribution, were waiting for direction rather than providing it. The mages from both contingents sat with the particular stillness of people who were paying close attention to someone else before committing to anything.
Leon slowly began to understand.
The aura.
It had to be the aura.
Ever since yesterday people had been acting differently.
Soldiers saluted faster.
Servants nearly sprinted when he requested something.
A quartermaster had personally delivered supplies to Leon's tent that morning despite Leon never having requested any supplies.
Someone had even offered to move his tent closer to the command area.
Leon hadn't asked for that either.
The realization was not comforting.
A particularly awkward silence settled over the meeting. Everyone kept glancing toward him.
Waiting.
Again.
Leon resisted the urge to sink lower into his chair.
Say something, he thought. Anything.
You're the High Archmage. You definitely know what you're doing.
Probably.
Fortunately, fate intervened.
The tent flap opened and a messenger hurried inside. Dust covered his boots. His cloak bore the marks of hard travel.
Leon felt immediate gratitude toward the man.
A distraction.
Excellent.
The messenger approached. Straight toward Leon.
The realization hit a second before the messenger stopped before him.
Right.
The chair.
The messenger offered a sealed letter and Leon accepted it.
The seal bore Alderon's insignia. He broke it and unfolded the contents as the tent grew quiet, everyone watching.
Leon read the message.
He lowered the parchment.
"What is it?" one of the commanders finally asked.
Leon glanced at the letter.
"The king received a response from Ishmar."
That got their attention.
He read.
High Archmage,
The Kingdom of Ishmar has formally responded to our alliance request.
Representatives and military advisors are already on their way to the capital and have expressed willingness to participate in future operations regarding the Horizon Gate.
Given your position at the gate and your role, I believe this information should reach you immediately.
Further correspondence will follow.
His Majesty, King Alderon III
The room exploded.
Questions immediately filled the tent.
"What kind of support?"
"How many advisors?"
"Did they mention mages?"
"Will they commit troops?"
"Ishmar never commits troops."
The discussion expanded rapidly.
For the first time all morning the room felt alive. Generals debated logistics.
Mages discussed Ishmar's research programs. The Solmarans exchanged glances Leon couldn't decipher.
Within moments nobody was paying attention to him anymore.
Perfect.
Leon leaned back slightly.
Much better.
This was how meetings were supposed to work. Other people talking. Leon pretending to contribute. Civilization functioning as intended.
He allowed the discussion to continue without interruption.
At the edge of his thoughts, however, one detail lingered.
Ishmar.
Strange timing.
The alliance request had gone out months ago, during the crisis, during the uncertainty, when everyone had believed the Horizon Gate might unleash the end of the world.
They had remained silent. Now they responded.
After the gate had opened. After the immediate threat seemed to have passed.
Leon scratched his head.
Were they really needed anymore?
The question felt unfair. Of course they were.
Refusing assistance from a major kingdom would be political stupidity.
Future relations mattered. Alliances mattered.
And refusing an ally who'd volunteered was a kind of message in itself, one that would shape future relations in ways that were hard to predict and easy to regret.
He knew that. Still...
More politics. He could already see the shape of it. The existing alliance adjusting to accommodate a new member with its own interests, its own expectations, its own particular weight in the balance.
The discussion continued around him. Maps were unrolled. Predictions were made. Plans were proposed.
Leon listened with half an ear.
Ishmar.
The name lingered.
Whatever came next, he suspected this would not be the last time he heard it.
He sighed quietly and settled deeper into the chair.
More politics.
Just what he needed.