Draconia Offline vol. 2

77.1. Sense of Direction - Part 1

"Ryuu, the war was avoided, surely you can rest now?" Erik puts his chin on my shoulder and tickles me under my feathers.

"Just a minute," I approve another funding order and check how many there are left. Twenty-seven. Our Minister of Finances Evaniel did a very good job at preparing everything, but the final decision still has to go through me. Even though I told her that she has my utmost trust and my blessing to authorise it herself, she claimed that she would feel much better with my approval.

"You said that half an hour ago," Erik complains. "It's almost dinnertime."

"Your Majesty, I've finished your itinerary for tomorrow," Luviael approaches my table and hands me a tablet.

"I have an objection," Erik frowns after studying it briefly. "Only two short coffee breaks?"

"I'm sorry, Royal Consort, but we don't have any time tomorrow, the diplomatic visit is approaching fast," Luvi apologises. "War has been avoided, but there are hundreds of other matters that require His Majesty's immediate attention."

"Wait, where's my flying session?" I panic because there's no time slot for that anywhere.

"Ehm... we could skip one day?" my adjutant bites her lip nervously. She must have anticipated I won't like it one bit.

"I will go crazy if you don't let me fly regularly," I protest. "And I won't be able to concentrate with sore wings. Give me at least twenty minutes."

"It's never only twenty minutes with Your Majesty," Luvi sighs. "First of all, you need to change your clothes, then the guards have to secure the perimeter in the air and it's a real chore to make you return after such a short time when you don't have nearly enough."

"I'll take not nearly enough over nothing," I say vehemently. "You can't keep me on the ground all day, I'm the embodiment of air and I need my daily exercise. This is part of my well-being, just make time for it, I don't care how."

Luviael bows, apologises profoundly and runs off to make adjustments to the timetable.

"How come you don't feel the urge to fly every day?" I turn to Gotrid, annoyed with my adjutant and her attempt to rob me of my joy. "Don't tell me your wings aren't sore when you can't use them for hours."

"I can skip a day," Gotrid shrugs. "Sure, I would love to fly every day, but if that can't be done, we don't suffer nearly as much as you."

I puff irritably and stretch my wings to the sides. I did go flying today, yet I'd welcome one more chance to fly before dinner.

"Hon, you're making a mess," Erik scolds me because I accidentally swept a stack of papers with my feathers.

"Aefener, what's that?" Liana speaks up from her desk and rolls her eyes. "Have I just felt a breeze? Casting air magic inside is dangerous."

"I didn't do anything," I shake my head.

"You often do magic subconsciously," Liana stands up and walks to me, but instead of further scolding, she gently caresses my feathers. "I'm sorry," she sighs. "I know that you need to fly much more than we do, but there's just so much work only you can do and not enough time."

"I do realise that," I say, but I intend to stand my ground. "And I'm trying to stay calm and focused all the time, but this is torture."

I wasn't thinking much about the word I just let out of my mouth. People use serious words in not-serious or downright funny situations all the time. Yet, the word 'torture' lands heavily for some reason. Everybody in the Royal Office stops working and looks at me in panic. I blink, confused. Did I say something wrong?