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The equations in front of him were challenging, even for someone of his intellect, but Draven thrived in these moments of deep concentration. Each line of thought led to another, and the puzzle slowly unraveled itself in his mind.

Yet, even as he worked, there was a weight on his thoughts. His obligations had grown recently, pulling him in multiple directions. Mentoring Queen Aurelia was no simple task, especially when balancing it with his duties to the university, managing the Earldom, and ensuring his own survival amidst the dangerous political currents.

He could handle it—of course, he could—but it required careful attention, something that was difficult to maintain with so many demands on his time.

Still, he pressed on. The research he was working on now was key—his journal on summoning and necromantic advancements needed to be published soon. The university was expecting a groundbreaking work, something that would solidify his position not just as a professor but as a leading authority in his field. And Draven was not one to disappoint.

His quill moved quickly across the parchment, adding a final note to his calculations, when suddenly, a soft sound disturbed the air. His senses, sharp as always, picked up the subtle shift in the room\'s magical energy. Someone had entered the outer chamber.

Draven\'s eyes flicked toward the door just as it opened, revealing a figure that was both familiar and unexpected.

Elandris, the chancellor of the Magic Tower University, stepped into the room, but not in her usual form. Gone was the stooped, elderly figure of an old man that she often used as her public persona. Instead, she stood before him in her true form—a graceful, half-elven woman with long silver hair that shimmered under the soft glow of the arcane symbols.

Her presence filled the room with a different kind of energy—one that was light, almost playful, but with an undercurrent of wisdom that Draven respected. He had known Elandris for a long time, long enough to understand that beneath her teasing nature and penchant for gossip, she possessed a sharp mind and a deep understanding of magic that rivaled his own.

"Draven," she greeted, her voice lilting and melodic, a stark contrast to the gruff tone of the old man she usually embodied. She glided into the room, her robes barely making a sound as they brushed against the floor. "Working hard, as always, I see."

Draven\'s gaze remained steady on her, his expression unreadable. "Chancellor," he acknowledged, setting down his quill but not rising from his seat. He could sense that her visit was not a casual one, though with Elandris, one could never be entirely sure.

"You know," Elandris continued, her lips curling into a smile, "it\'s quite rare to find you in your office without a student or queen bothering you. I thought I\'d take the opportunity to pay you a visit while you\'re still... unoccupied." She paused, her silver eyes sparkling with mischief. "Well, relatively unoccupied."

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Draven remained silent, his gaze sharp and focused. He had long since learned that the best way to handle Elandris in this form was to let her talk herself into the point. She always had one—eventually.

Elandris strolled over to one of the shelves, her fingers lightly brushing over the spines of the books there. "You\'ve been quite busy, haven\'t you?" she mused, her tone shifting ever so slightly. "Mentoring the queen, running an Earldom, handling the political affairs of the university... I wonder how you find the time to breathe, let alone work on your research."

There it was. Draven\'s eyes narrowed slightly. "My research is nearly complete," he said, his voice as cold and precise as always. "I will submit the journal on summoning and necromantic theory before the deadline."

Elandris turned to face him, raising an eyebrow. "Nearly complete, you say?" She folded her arms across her chest, the playful glint in her eyes fading just a little. "I certainly hope so, Draven. The council has been asking about your progress, and I\'m not one to let deadlines slide. You promised something revolutionary, after all."

"I don\'t make promises lightly, Chancellor," Draven replied, his voice calm but firm. "The research is well within schedule."n/ô/vel/b//in dot c//om

Elandris gave him a long, appraising look before sighing dramatically. "Of course, of course. But, you see, the magic council is getting... well, restless. They\'re expecting something from you, and the longer it takes, the more they start to wonder if perhaps... you\'ve been distracted by other matters."

She moved closer, her eyes searching his face for any hint of emotion, though she knew better than to expect it. Draven rarely revealed anything beyond cold efficiency. Still, she pressed on, her tone softening.

"Draven, you\'ve been taking on more responsibilities than most could handle. Between mentoring Queen Aurelia, handling the affairs of your Earldom, and conducting various high-stakes missions, it\'s no wonder the council is growing concerned. They worry that perhaps your... focus has shifted."

Draven\'s eyes flicked to the side for a brief moment, barely noticeable, before returning to meet Elandris\'s gaze. "My focus is where it needs to be."

Elandris smiled, but there was a seriousness in her eyes now. "That may be true, but even you have limits, Draven. I\'ve seen you juggle responsibilities before, but this time... well, even I am starting to wonder if you\'ve taken on too much."

Draven leaned back in his chair, his hands folding neatly in front of him. "I am aware of my limitations, Chancellor. But I assure you, my research will be finished on time."

For a moment, there was a silence between them, the air thick with unspoken tension. Elandris broke it with a soft chuckle. "You always were so serious, Draven. I wonder what it would take to make you relax for even a moment."

Draven didn\'t respond to her teasing, but Elandris wasn\'t finished.

"Speaking of relaxation," she said, her tone shifting again, "I\'ve been thinking about something you mentioned a while back. You remember, don\'t you? The idea of creating a perfect clone—one that doesn\'t require constant mana input or a connection to the original caster."

Draven\'s eyes narrowed slightly. "Yes. I remember."

Elandris tilted her head, her silver hair cascading over her shoulder. "Well, I\'ve been doing some thinking on the matter. You know, it would be quite convenient for someone like me. After all, this little old man disguise can get rather... tiresome." She flashed him a smile, one that was both teasing and genuinely curious. "What do you think?

Perhaps you could shift your focus for a bit and help me perfect the clone spell. It would be a... delightful collaboration."

Draven\'s gaze remained steady, his expression unchanged. "I said I would consider it, later. My current priorities take precedence."

Elandris sighed, though it was more for dramatic effect than genuine disappointment. "Ah, always so stern. But you do know that time waits for no one, Draven. The council may grow impatient, but so do I. If you keep pushing it off, I might have to remind you more... persistently."

Draven didn\'t flinch, his voice cool and steady. "You won\'t need to."

For a brief moment, Elandris studied him, her playful demeanor masking the sharpness of her gaze. She knew Draven well enough to understand that when he said something, he meant it. But she also knew that his focus could shift, and she wasn\'t above reminding him of the consequences.

"Well," she said, stepping back and brushing a strand of silver hair behind her ear, "I\'ll take your word for it. But don\'t wait too long, Draven. The council isn\'t the only one keeping an eye on your work."

With that, she gave him a small, graceful bow, her eyes lingering on him for just a moment longer before she turned and moved toward the door. As she reached for the handle, she paused, glancing back over her shoulder with a smirk.

"Oh, and Draven," she added, her voice light but with an edge of seriousness, "do try to take a break once in a while. Even the coldest mages need to thaw out eventually."

Without waiting for a response, she disappeared from the room, leaving only the faint scent of lavender in her wake.