Pashar tapped a piece of chalk against her folders, glaring across the waiting room at the only other occupant. Ragnar seemed halfway asleep. His right hand lay in his lap, the left holding onto his cane, though it was tipping at an precarious angle.

She leafed through her papers one more time, ending with a loud snap that caused the old tethered to sit up straighter, bringing his cane back in line. To be honest, she couldn’t really blame him. They’d been waiting here for nearly two hours, and it looked like they might wait for another two.

She returned to her tapping.

“You don’t need to be so uptight.” Ragnar rumbled slowly. Despite his ‘nap’, Ragnar’s voice lacked the touch of sleep, so did his eyes.

She didn’t reply, simply tapping harder against her folder. The wooden backing made a satisfying thud with each impact.

“Look, is this about that kid?” Ragnar asked, sitting up a little straighter. “I can’t say I understand your fascination with him, but if you want him so badly just take him to your bed.”

The chalk snapped in her fingers. “Excuse me?”

Ragnar waved his hand lazily. “It’s not a big deal. You wouldn’t be the first to have a favorite.”

Pashar dropped the chalk from her fingers. It cracked further against the stone floor, leaving a white residue in the air above it. Her scowl intensified.

“I just finally realized why you were so insisted on bringing him in.” Ragnar shrugged. “I figured we could get it out there and not have to deal with anymore of these kinds of issues.”

“He’s a kid, Ragnar.” Pashar kept her voice emotionless, though the cloud of chalk mist stirred slightly at her feet, despite her best efforts. Sloppy. Especially if he was getting such a rise out of her.

Ragnar shrugged. “He’s not really. In Ankiria he’s a kid, but Ranvir doesn’t live in Ankiria.”

Pashar let out a long breath. “I suggest you shut up, Principal.”

Ragnar raised his eyebrows. “I just thought-“

“Clearly not.” Pashar cut him off. “You’re confusing me seeing potential in a student and his circle of friends, with me setting desires on said student. The fact-“

She stopped as the door opened, but she didn’t relent her glare. A servant stepped into the waiting room, his eyes settling on the two tethered. It appeared he was better at recognizing the tension than Ragnar, because he knew better than to mention it.

“They’re ready for you.” He said bowing deeply.

Pashar didn’t reply as she walked over to the servant and waited for the old fool to get to his feet. As she waited her eyes wandered the room, as to avoid lingering on the source of her anger.

Opulent was the only proper word for it. There were expensive vases, tapestries in rich fabrics that served no more purpose than to showcase wealth. No real imagery or depictions on them. The furniture had all been inlaid with silver, gold, and other over done embellishments that distracted rather than accentuated. It was all the trappings of new money.

Finally, Ragnar managed to amble over to them and the servant gestured for them to follow as he lead them away. She kept right behind the servant, knowing that would make the young woman speed up, thereby forcing Ragnar to limp along with his cane instead of taking his time.

They walked for a couple minutes, backtracking through most of the halls they’d gone through to get there. Finally, they landed in front of a set of huge double doors. Pashar didn’t have the greatest eye for wood sorts, but even she recognized vargish black cherry.

The wood always caught the eye. The near black appearance sure to make anyone look twice. Of course, it was also a huge waste of money. If someone lived in Ankiria, then maybe it could be explained away as someone getting timber sent from their neighboring country. This had been sent all the way from Vargish, through Ankiria, and up to Elusria. Having gone through at least one desert to get there. It had at the very least cost, three times what it was actually worth. And yet, black cherry wood wasn’t better than elusrian oak, just more distinctive.

At least the carpet was good and thick local wool.

The servant nodded at them, once Ragnar stopped next to her. Turning the young woman braced herself then shoved the doors open with a grunt. Her effort revealed a tall ceilinged hall, a match of the Queen’s throne room. It was narrower, though, and while the pillars certainly were impressive, they clearly hadn’t been carved by the same expert hand as the one who’d done the detailing in the throne room.

The hall was lit by several bright-torches. Most of them shone with a bright white light that almost made it feel like they were outside under the sun, despite the lack of windows. A few shed red light, helping mark the hall as the elusrian Master’s.

Ragnar strode in before her, and she followed on his heels, letting the old man take the lead. As he needed to. He was the most senior tethered of the two. A carpet of the same wool, ran down the middle of the hall ending before a dais, where petitioners stood before the Council. The rear of the hall was elevated well beyond human height, making the Master’s who sat behind their desk seem to loom over the supplicants.

The effect was somewhat spoiled by the lack of attendance. Only two Councilors had shown up today, though they were the only two that really mattered. Sure, most councilors would back Ulf in a heartbeat, but the aforementioned Master and Hildrid were the only two that really played any politics. The rest were stuck fumbling at the secrets to Twin Master. Too focused on their time slipping away to pay attention to something as trivial as ‘politics’.

“Bow before the Council.” Their herald yelled, from the behind them. Pashar didn’t look in his direction, but did throw an errand scan his direction. Untethered. Ragnar maneuvered his cane in a practiced motion as he bowed, Pashar swiftly following his motion.

“Masters of the Council, I, Ragnar Master of Obsidian greet you.” Ragnar let out.

“Greetings Ragnar. To have such an accomplished tethered before us is an honor.” Hildrid replied. As the strongest tethered in the room, she the right of first greeting. “You tell us you’ve come with a solution for the Queen’s latest predicament?”

“I have, Councilor.” Master Ragnar said, nodding towards Pashar.

She bowed once more to the Councilors, before stepping forwards. “The issue that the Queen is facing is a distrust of the Royal Academy. Both our cause and our members. We suggest a simple effort that should make us appear as eminently useful to the common public.”

“Oh?” Ulf said, sitting a little straighter.

“The biggest problem with the academy’s reputation is its self-isolation. We sit apart from the commoners, away from the city. You cannot enter without permission, so the only people they really meet are the students when they go out on their free day. I doubt I need remind you of the foolish behaviors of youth?”

Ulf let out a loud chuckle that made his old flesh jiggle. “Oh don’t we know.”

“But there’s a vastly underutilized resource at our hand, freely available. Something that will give our students valuable experience. Allowing them both to get a taste of the real world and experience some of the tougher parts of life.”

Pashar stepped in front of the dais, to look directly at the two Councilors. “Healing. Our students in healing are only getting the little bit of training that comes from injuries during weapon or physical class. Injuries that tend towards certain unavoidable patterns, leaving a wide margin that they might have to treat on the front lines, but never saw at the academy.”

She stepped over to a servant standing at the stairs to the Council’s desks. She handed them one of the folders in her arms. “Here we have designs for clinics that can easily be set up within a few hours on almost any square within the city. This would offer both healers an opportunity to train their skills on much more real situations, and offer students more real life experience as they guard them. And by taking care of that which ails the commoners, it will also improve our standing with the public.”

Pashar stepped back behind Ragnar. She had, by necessity, developed an eye for politics, but she didn’t much go in for it herself. Much like her mentor, she had a different purpose than normal politics.

She caught the exchange between the two Councilors. Murmured words. Excited eyes trading looks. Even a victorious grin on Ulf’s face.

“This sounds like an excellent idea.” Hildrid voice was laden with approval. “I’m certain the Queen will be most pleased to see such a solution. Especially, coming from her academy. It shows great foresight that you’ve been able to come up with such an idea.”

Pashar pointedly didn’t narrow her eyes. The effort it took to avoid it was taxing, though. Ragnar’s fist relaxed into a loose palm, as their acceptance swallowed him.

“We would like further updates as this goes along, make sure to keep us updated of your progress. When do you think it can start?”

Ragnar stepped forwards. “Within a few weeks. Four at the most. It will take some time getting the tents requisitioned and modified, choosing exact locations and setting up teams will be a longer process too. We cannot put a Master at every location, so they would need the ability to fend for themselves.”

“Indeed.” Ulf said, leaning forwards over the desk. “Keep us updated. We would like an exact location set up and teams as soon as possible.”

“Yes, Councilor.” Ragnar bowed again, sensing they were about to be dismissed.

“Excellent. Dismissed.” Hildrid said.

The hall sat in silence as Ragnar and Pashar walked out. She didn’t shoot a glance behind her as the door shut, however, she noticed Ragnar doing so.

“They’re planning something.” She said, her voice calm. They didn’t need a servant to guide them out. It was a straight shot from the hall, to the entrance.

“Of course.” Ragnar said.

“I don’t like this.” Pashar said. “The Queen’s made it clear she’s tired of the Council’s interference.”

Ragnar grit his teeth, as she held the door open for him. “I don’t like it either, but the old fools won’t listen to anyone.”

Pashar sighed as she let the door shut.