The king's wizard sat in her tower, the tallest in the great castle, staring into the fire. She'd once thought the tower a sign of respect for her wisdom. Now, she wondered whether it was to keep the strangeness of magic as far away from the throne as possible. She stroked her beard. Why did she advise the king anyway? The king had many advisors: advisors for war and for commerce, for politics and for the harvest. He had a royal huntsman, official advisor of the hunt! He preferred not to think about magic, so the wizard had little to do.
And if the king didn't need her, why did the wizard stay? Why continue to think of herself as the king's wizard? Serving the king afforded her comfort and safety. Were those worth feeling so adrift, having command of great creative forces but having no use for them?
No. The wizard packed a few things: a change of robes, a comb for her beard, a week's food and water. She left all the gold and silver objects littering her chambers. She wouldn't be beholden to the king any longer than she must. She would be her own wizard now.