Chapter 35: Archmage

At the second small council meeting, Wright and Renly were also present, as this decision would require the addition of an official seat at the council table.

The meeting was held in the Maegor's Holdfast, a small room near the King's chambers in the Red Keep. The room had a long conference table, with the King's chair placed directly in front of it. On either side of the table were seven luxurious chairs, with extra chairs available nearby for temporary attendees. Wright and Renly could only sit in these extra chairs for now.

Once everyone had taken their seats, Robert brought up the topic of adding a new seat to the council for discussion.

Jon Arryn, the Hand of the King, was the first to speak.

"The small council has seven seats because the Faith of the Seven reveres the number seven. Would adding another seat be disrespectful to the Seven? Might it anger the faithful?"

"Shall we only send seven men to war from now on?" Robert immediately retorted, silencing the Hand. It was a response that had already been prearranged between them.

"I agree with adding a seat," Varys, the Master of Whisperers, continued, "but the role of Archmage is primarily administrative. Shouldn't it be held by a respected noble?"

This was a point that Varys, along with the Master of Laws and the Master of Coin, had discussed beforehand. While the addition of a seat was acceptable, it should represent noble interests, not those of the sorcerers. Although Wright had dual roles, representing both magic and nobility, his position as Archmage should clearly represent the small and still weak magical faction, not grant them power over the nobles.

Varys personally detested both the nobility and magic, but he was driven by the exchange of interests. He had no prior conflict with Wright, but now he sided with the nobles.

Wright's eyes flared with purple magical smoke as he fixed his gaze on Varys.

The members of the council froze. Even the King remained motionless in his chair, unwilling to move. Varys, however, could barely hold himself together. His eyes were wide, his body stiff, trembling, and sweating. When Wright's eyes no longer emitted the purple smoke, Varys returned to normal.

"This is an illusion-based fear spell," Wright explained. "It taps into the deepest fears of a person's psyche. I've reduced the magic to its lowest intensity, but if I were to increase the power, Lord Varys might leap from the window in terror."

Wright's spell had been modified so that it could now be cast directly through his eyes, without needing to use his hands. Those with strong wills would be left weak at the knees and sweating profusely. Those with weaker wills might even flee in panic.

Varys wiped sweat from his brow, trying to regain his composure as he looked at the others. Just moments ago, his mind had been filled with terrifying visions of childhood abuse, castration, and the time he had secretly helped three Targaryen children escape — an act that had been discovered, leading to his impending execution at the hands of a mob.

In the face of Wright's absolute power, Varys realized that there was no such thing as a guaranteed victory in the world of intrigue. Any slip of the tongue, any reveal of his schemes, could lead to his demise. From now on, Varys would operate with even more secrecy.

"This is what a mage is!" Wright's voice rang through the chamber. "All nobles are nothing but mere physical vessels in the face of magic. Only the most powerful sorcerers can lead their kind."

The Baratheon brothers remained unfazed, sitting calmly while Wright observed the stunned expressions of the others around the table.

"Don't look at me like that," Wright continued, addressing the council. "I know what you're thinking — mind controlling some noble, right? The time of a mage is precious. I'm sure none of us would waste time doing that. We prefer to turn our enemies to ash directly."

The spell he had cast on Varys was merely to let him experience a glimpse of what magic could do. Wright wasn't looking to completely antagonize him at this point; he wanted to keep him around, as Varys still had some use to Robert.

Jon Arryn, the Hand of the King, clinked a spoon against his wineglass to bring the room's focus back. Since Robert had ascended the throne, everyone had wineglasses in front of them during meetings, as Robert liked to drink and discuss matters at the same time. Eventually, Jon had to advise that only low-alcohol wine be served during the meetings; otherwise, Robert would have them all drunk by the end of every council session.

"There's another issue," Jon said, his voice steady. "If we increase the seats from seven to eight, there's a chance we'll end up with a tie in votes, four for and four against, making decisions impossible."

"Doesn't the King count?" Robert cut in with a grin. "My vote makes it nine, and when I'm absent, the Hand can take my place, with two votes."

This effectively gave Robert even more power, and he slammed his hand on the table as he spoke.

"Alright, let's vote. Should we add a Archmage seat in the small council, and should Wright Baratheon be the first to hold this position? All in favor, raise your hand. All opposed?"

The result was unanimous: nine votes in favor.

A few days later, in the Great Hall of the Red Keep, Robert sat on the Iron Throne. The seven white-robed Kingsguard stood in line, while Queen Cersei and young Prince Joffrey were seated at the foot of the throne. The rest of the council members, along with other kingdom officials and invited nobles, filled the hall, which was packed with hundreds of people. This was one of the rare major gatherings that Robert had personally called since becoming king.

Once everyone had gathered, Jon Arryn stood and began to read from a scroll.

"From this day forth, by the decision of His Grace the King and the small council, the council shall be expanded from seven to eight members, with the addition of the seat for the Kingdom's Archmage."

The announcement was met with a collective gasp from the crowd. Wright and Renly's involvement with magic had long been known in King's Landing, but hearing that Wright would now hold an official seat on the small council left everyone in shock. Whispers spread through the hall as nobles and courtiers eagerly began to discuss the implications among themselves.

"Silence!" The Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, Barristan Selmy, stepped forward to maintain order.

Jon Arryn, the Hand of the King, continued his announcement:

"Furthermore, it has been decided that the first-ever Kingdom's Archmage will be Wright Baratheon. The relevant documents have been signed by the King and the members of the small council, and copies will be sent out to the realm immediately." He unfurled the scroll for all to see.

In truth, the crowd was too far to make out the text; it was all part of the formal process to display fairness and legitimacy.

"Wright Baratheon!" Jon called out.

Wright, dressed in a crimson noble's robe, his black hair tied back, walked forward with confidence. Behind him, five magical orbs — flames, pure white, yellow, blue, and purple — swirled around him, each representing a different school of magic: Destruction, Alteration, Healing, Summoning, and Illusion. The five colors of light mixed and shone in dazzling brilliance.

He strode to the center of the hall, kneeling on one knee before Robert, with his right hand placed over his chest in respect.

Robert stood and descended from the Iron Throne. He approached Wright, taking the official document from Jon Arryn and handing it to Wright. Wright received it with both hands, and then Robert drew his sword from his waist and placed the blade gently across Wright's left shoulder.

"I, Robert Baratheon, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, ruler of the Seven Kingdoms, Protector of the Realm, hereby appoint Wright Baratheon as the Kingdom's Archmage. Wright Baratheon of House Baratheon, with endless knowledge and power, I swear that you will serve the Kingdom with your magic, destroy its enemies, and uphold your oath, for failure to do so will bring upon you the curse of knowledge and power."

Robert then tapped Wright's shoulders with the sword before he helped him rise. As Wright stood, Robert threw him into a bear hug. The court, nobles, and officials in the hall erupted into applause. Wright, though unable to move just yet, shifted his five magical orbs away to avoid harming Robert.

The position of Archmage had no specific uniform or token, but Wright had already informed Robert that if anyone other than him or Renly managed to activate the five magical orbs, they would be too valuable to let go — even if it meant selling King's Landing to keep them.

Wright, however, was eager for the ceremony to end, as maintaining balance between his consumption and restoration of magic left him with only three orbs. The five required more energy to maintain.

The council continued to discuss minor matters before moving on to Robert's favored part of the day — the feast.

In Westeros, there were no such restrictions on children drinking wine. Noble families introduced their children to sweet wines at an early age, and Robert, being the first to pour drinks for Wright and Renly, was joined by the other nobles eager to form connections. It was also the first time Wright had gotten drunk since arriving in this world.