The Gentleman's Agony

Three months had passed since Elara's coronation, and the kingdom was still adjusting to the reality of having a Queen who actually cared about the people she ruled.

Silas stood in the Royal Council chamber, watching Elara argue with a group of nobles who were resisting her proposed reforms. He'd learned to read the subtle signs of her frustration—the way her jaw tightened, the slight narrowing of her eyes, the careful control in her voice that meant she was seconds away from losing her temper.

Through the bond, he felt her emotions more directly. Anger at their obstinacy, frustration at their willful blindness, and underneath it all, a deep weariness that came from fighting the same battles over and over again.

"The pilot program has been successful," Elara was saying, her voice measured and calm despite the storm of emotions Silas could feel through their connection. "Five Shared Bonds established, all functioning well, with reports of significantly reduced suffering among the Proxies involved. The evidence is clear—this system works."

"The evidence is anecdotal," Lord Pemberton countered. He was a portly man in his sixties, with the kind of face that suggested he'd never experienced genuine hardship in his life. "Five bonds out of fifty thousand Proxies in the kingdom? That's hardly a representative sample."

"Which is why I'm proposing we expand the program," Elara replied. "Establish Shared Bonds in every province, gather more data, prove that this system is viable on a larger scale."

"And who will pay for this expansion?" Lady Ashford asked. She was one of Elara's supporters, but she was also pragmatic about the political realities. "Training new bonding specialists, monitoring the bonds, providing support for Proxies who transition to the new system—all of that requires resources."

"Resources we have," Elara said. "The treasury can afford it."

"The treasury can afford many things, Your Majesty. But spending money on Proxy welfare when there are roads to repair, bridges to build, and defenses to maintain? That's a hard sell to the nobility."

"Then we make them understand that this isn't just about Proxy welfare. It's about efficiency, about making magic more accessible, about building a stronger kingdom." Elara gestured to Silas. "Silas, explain the efficiency gains."

Silas stepped forward, feeling the weight of dozens of aristocratic eyes on him. He'd gotten used to being stared at over the past three months, but it never stopped being uncomfortable.

"The Shared Bond system distributes magical costs among multiple participants," he began, his voice carrying the calm authority he'd developed over fifteen years of service. "This means that each individual can handle more magic with less damage. In practical terms, a mage with a Shared Bond can cast approximately forty percent more spells per day than a mage with a traditional Proxy bond, because the recovery time is shorter and the cumulative damage is less."

"Forty percent?" Lord Pemberton's eyebrows rose. "That's a significant increase."

"It is. And it compounds over time. A mage who uses the Shared Bond system for a year will have cast thousands more spells than a mage using the traditional system, with less overall damage to all parties involved."

"But at what cost?" another noble asked. "If we're sharing the pain, doesn't that mean we aristocrats will have to suffer?"

"Yes," Silas said bluntly. "You'll feel a portion of the magical costs. Not as much as your Proxy would feel in the traditional system, but enough to make you think twice before casting frivolous spells."

"That's unacceptable," the noble sputtered. "We're aristocrats. We shouldn't have to feel pain."

"Why not?" Elara's voice was sharp. "Why should Proxies bear all the suffering while you enjoy all the benefits? What makes your comfort more important than their lives?"

"Because we're the ones with power," Lord Pemberton said. "That's how society works, Your Majesty. The powerful are comfortable, the powerless serve. It's been that way for centuries."

"And it's been wrong for centuries," Elara shot back. "Just because something has always been done a certain way doesn't mean it should continue. We have a chance to build something better, and I'm not going to waste it because some aristocrats are afraid of a little discomfort."

The council chamber erupted in argument, nobles shouting over each other, some supporting Elara's position, others vehemently opposing it. Silas watched the chaos with a detached interest, noting who was on which side, who was genuinely committed to their position and who was just posturing for political advantage.

Through the bond, he felt Elara's frustration spike, and he sent back a wave of calm. She glanced at him, and he saw her take a deep breath, centering herself.

"Enough," she said, her voice cutting through the noise. "This debate is going nowhere. I'm going to make a decision, and you're all going to have to live with it."

The chamber fell silent.

"The pilot program will be expanded to all provinces," Elara continued. "Every aristocrat who wishes to participate in the Shared Bond system will be given the opportunity to do so. Those who prefer to maintain traditional Proxy bonds may do so, but they will be subject to increased oversight and regulation to ensure they're not abusing their Proxies."

"You can't force us to change," Lord Pemberton protested.

"I'm not forcing anyone. I'm offering a choice. But I'm also making it clear that the old system—the system that allows aristocrats to work Proxies to death without consequence—that system is ending. If you want to continue using magic, you'll need to do so responsibly."

"And if we refuse?"

"Then you'll find that magic becomes much less convenient for you." Elara's smile was cold. "I control the Royal Academy, which trains all the bonding specialists in the kingdom. I control the licensing system that allows aristocrats to bond with Proxies. And I control the courts that adjudicate disputes over Proxy treatment. If you want to fight me on this, Lord Pemberton, you're welcome to try. But I promise you, you won't win."

It was a power play, naked and unsubtle, and Silas felt a flicker of pride through the bond. Elara had learned quickly how to wield her authority as Queen.

Lord Pemberton's face went red, but he bowed stiffly. "As Your Majesty commands."

"Good. This council is adjourned. We'll reconvene next week to discuss implementation details."

The nobles filed out, some looking satisfied, others angry, all of them clearly processing what had just happened. Elara had drawn a line in the sand, and they would have to decide which side they were on.

When the chamber was empty except for Silas and Elara, she slumped in her chair, exhaustion washing over her.

"That was brutal," she muttered.

"You handled it well," Silas said, moving to stand beside her. "You made your position clear without backing down."

"I also made a lot of enemies. Lord Pemberton is going to fight this every step of the way."

"He was already your enemy. You just made it official."

"That's not comforting."

"It wasn't meant to be. It was meant to be realistic." Silas studied her face, noting the dark circles under her eyes, the tension in her shoulders. "When was the last time you slept?"

"I don't know. Two days ago? Three?"

"Elara, you need to rest. You're pushing yourself too hard."

"I don't have time to rest. There's too much to do, too many people depending on me."

"And you'll be no good to any of them if you collapse from exhaustion." He held out his hand. "Come on. You're taking a break."

"Silas, I can't—"

"Yes, you can. The kingdom will survive without you for a few hours." He pulled her to her feet. "You're going to eat something, sleep for at least four hours, and then we'll tackle the next crisis."

Through the bond, he felt her resistance warring with her exhaustion. Finally, exhaustion won.

"All right," she said. "But only four hours. And you have to wake me if anything urgent comes up."

"Deal."

He guided her out of the council chamber and through the palace corridors to her private quarters. The guards at her door nodded respectfully as they passed, and Silas made a mental note to check their loyalty later. Elara had enemies, and those enemies would be looking for opportunities.

Her quarters were spacious but not ostentatious—she'd refused the traditional royal suite, saying it was too large and too isolated. Instead, she'd chosen a smaller set of rooms that were closer to the working areas of the palace, where she could be more accessible to the people who needed her.

Silas had his own quarters next door, connected to hers by a private door. It was an arrangement that had raised eyebrows among the more traditional nobles, but Elara had insisted on it. The bond required them to stay within a certain distance of each other, and having separate quarters on opposite sides of the palace would have been impractical.

"I'll have food sent up," Silas said, guiding Elara to sit on the couch. "What do you want?"

"I don't care. Anything."

"That's not helpful."

"Silas, I'm too tired to make decisions about food. Just... bring me something that won't make me sick."

He smiled slightly and went to the door to speak with one of the servants. When he returned, Elara was already half-asleep, her head resting against the back of the couch.

"Don't fall asleep yet," he said. "You need to eat first."

"I'm not falling asleep. I'm just resting my eyes."

"That's what people say right before they fall asleep."

"I'm not people. I'm the Queen."

"Queens need sleep too."

She opened one eye to look at him. "When did you become so bossy?"

"I've always been bossy. You just never noticed because I was being bossy in service of someone else."

"Fair point." She closed her eye again. "Silas, do you think we're doing the right thing? With the reforms, I mean."

"Yes."

"You didn't even hesitate."

"Because I don't have any doubts. The current system is cruel and exploitative. The Shared Bond system is better. It's that simple."

"Nothing is that simple. There are always complications, unintended consequences, people who get hurt even when you're trying to help."

"That's true. But the alternative is to do nothing, to let the current system continue, to let thousands of Proxies die every year because we're too afraid of complications." He sat down beside her. "Elara, you're going to make mistakes. You're going to hurt people you didn't mean to hurt, and you're going to fail sometimes. But you're also going to save lives, change the kingdom for the better, and give people hope. That's worth the risk."

Through the bond, he felt her absorbing his words, letting them settle into her consciousness.

"Thank you," she said quietly. "For believing in me. For supporting me. For being here."

"Where else would I be?"

"I don't know. Free. Living your own life. Not tied to a Queen who's trying to change the world and probably going to get herself killed in the process."

"If you get killed, I get killed. The bond doesn't give me the option of abandoning you."

"That's not what I meant. I meant... you could have asked me to release you from the bond. To find a way to break it so you could be truly free."

Silas was quiet for a moment, considering this. It was true—they'd discussed the possibility of breaking the bond, of finding a way to separate so that Silas could live his own life without being tied to Elara's fate.

But every time they'd discussed it, Silas had found reasons to delay, to wait, to put it off for another day.

"I don't want to break the bond," he said finally. "Not yet. Maybe not ever."

"Why not?"

"Because for the first time in fifteen years, I'm not alone. I have a partner, someone who sees me as a person instead of a tool. Someone who cares about what I think and feel. Breaking the bond would mean losing that, and I'm not ready to lose it."

Elara opened her eyes and looked at him, and through the bond, Silas felt her surprise and gratitude and affection.

"I'm not ready to lose it either," she said. "The bond, I mean. And you."

They sat in comfortable silence until the food arrived—a simple meal of bread, cheese, and soup. Elara ate mechanically, clearly too tired to taste anything, and Silas made sure she finished everything before allowing her to go to bed.

"Four hours," she mumbled as she collapsed onto the mattress. "Wake me in four hours."

"I will."

But he didn't. He let her sleep for eight hours, because she needed it, and because the kingdom could survive without her for one night.

He spent those eight hours working on the expansion plans for the Shared Bond program, reviewing reports from Duke Ravencroft's estate, and monitoring the political situation. There were rumblings of discontent among the more conservative nobles, whispers of plots and conspiracies, but nothing concrete yet.

It was coming, though. Silas could feel it. The backlash against Elara's reforms was building, and when it broke, it was going to be violent.

He just hoped they would be ready for it.

End of Chapter 13