“It has to be a male.”

The Archsorceress was ready to meet any objections, but the entire council suddenly only had eyes for the table top. They couldn’t be blamed, it was an intricately designed table top of malachite and hardwood, but never before had any of them spent this much attention to the organic patterns of the oldest known object in possession of the High Council.

Sighing was below the Archsorceresses’ esteem and thus, without a trace of the irritation she felt, she addressed her first victim.

“Maester Goodwyn?”

The nearly bald man looked up nervously, his gaze not meeting that of the Archsorceress. “W-well it is highly... c-creative... but a male...?”

By these words the more outspoken members of the Council also dared to return to the discussion at hand.

“We can’t give such a high position to a male sorcerer, he simply won’t have the magical potential of a female one.” A military expert said. “There is a clear reason we don’t take any men in the arcane sections of the army.”

The head of coin, though having no magical affinity at all, agreed hastily and full of conviction. “Men weren’t made to wield magic. They may wield swords and maces, but magic is beyond their... their...”

He was met by murmured agreement throughout the council.

This time the Archsorceress was quite close to losing her patience. Her voice ringed with ice-cold sarcasm. “Then what do the esteemed members of the Council suggest? Resurrection of the prince’s old guard? Bringing her back from the dead? Necromancy? Or shall we just send another sorceress to be seduced by that-” she had almost said young sociopath but wisely chose other words, the prince was beloved after all, “-impossibly manageable man!”

She let the short silence that followed sink in before continuing. “All those unaffected by his cursed ‘manly charms’ were driven away by his intolerable behaviour. We’ve sent them all, the kind, the strict, the patient, and even the most powerful of sorceresses could not keep the position for longer than a month. Now I am not planning to give his majesty another lecture on security, nor will I go down to his quarters myself to defend him from assassins and whatnot. You fix the problem. We are past upholding the social hierarchy here. We need measures.”

Once again silence engulfed the group of most powerful men and women of the realm. It rested there heavily, on the malachite table top. Not able to bear her lover’s proposal any longer, a beautiful and powerful magician whispered a plea that only the Archsorceress could hear. “Please think about it Nata, a male sorcerer could be a danger to society. To everything our ancestor have worked for. To your position. To u-“

Absolutely unaltered by personal pleas the Archsorceress cut her lover short. “Maester Goodwyn, a candidate?”

The Grandmaester of the Citadel, the cage disguised as a school where every sorcerer was kept and wisely kept to themselves, responded softly and meek. “Well there is this one young man... quite talented for his sex... has not much character...”

“Assign him.” The Archsorceress commanded. She would not make the same mistake again. His majesty had rejected every single new guard they had sent to him after the death of his previous one, whom had protected him since childhood. She knew the prince was still grieving, but this was taking too long. One and a half year had passed since they buried the woman. She also suspected some ulterior motives to his constant rejection of guards, or the prince was just doing it to annoy her, as was his favourite pastime.

Assign him, she thought. The prince would be guarded. By a magic wielder. By a man if necessary.