They called me to a room full of important people.

  I'd been in the yard, helping a few young knights realise their swords didn't mean much if they forgot their feet. Sweat, dust, and the solid thunk of wooden blades into practice dummies surrounded me, and I found that comfortable.

  Then a page ran up, red-faced and panting.

  "Stormblade," he gasped. "Her Majesty requests your presence in the High Council."

  Ragna booed loudly as I handed off my practice axe. "They're stealing you again," she grumbled. "Next they'll put a crown on your head too."

  Gods forbid.

  Soon I stood outside the door of the council chamber, trying not to look like a barbarian who'd been dragged away from hitting things.

  "Come in."

  A voice said after I knocked. I pushed open the door. Inside was a long table with too many chairs around it and maps pinned to the walls with coloured pegs. Scrolls were stacked in neat piles while candles burned low in sconces, smoke curling up to a high, painted ceiling. The room smelled like ink and old arguments.

  Isolde sat at the far end.

  She wasn't in her formal dress this time, just a tailored blue gown trimmed with silver. The Crown rested on her hair like it refused to be left behind, a faint purple line pulsing through the metal now and then. Her back was straight, her hands folded. She looked every inch the Queen.

  She didn't blush when she saw me and only gave a small nod and a flick of her fingers toward a chair along the wall.

  So I took it.

  Valtor lounged on her right, boots crossed at the ankles, arms folded like he'd rather be somewhere else but was too polite to leave yet. Marius sat on her left with papers stacked in front of him, his expression calm and his hair tied back. Yasafina stood near the door like a silent statue of discipline, her golden eyes scanning anyone who moved too suddenly.

  Borric sat about halfway down the table. The new marquis' coat fit him a little better today, but the ring on his finger still looked like it weighed more than he did and he had ink on one cuff. That seemed right.

  Three nobles filled the other side. An old, sharp-faced one with lips permanently pinched. A hawk-nosed woman with eyes like a hunting bird. A middle-aged man with the careful blandness of someone who'd decided long ago never to volunteer an opinion first.

  Marius cleared his throat.

  "Thorvyn," he said, inclining his head in my direction. "Thank you for coming. We were just reviewing the state of the drought and our diplomatic options. You're just in time for the interesting part."

  "That's great, let's play kingdom," I said in fake enthusiasm. Valtor smirked. The hawk-nosed lady did not.

  “Let me help you with the basics first,” Marius tapped the map closest to Isolde and began explaining.

  He didn't waste words, that I appreciated.

  The gist was this – forcing Black Concord out of the nation and waking the Crown helped, but it hadn't undone everything. Near Millhaven, some of the blight was receding and soil samples from the old circles showed signs of life again. The Wasting Sickness hadn't reappeared there, which was a mercy.

  But other places that our group had passed through still felt wrong. Isolde didn't need the reports to know, she said she could feel it through the Crown.

  Thin patches, hollow ground, places where Kaelan's rituals had bitten too deep.

  The land of Thalassaria wasn't doing very well. At this rate, people would die hungry.

  Isolde spoke only once during Marius' summary.

  "The Crown is a solution. But I can't pull too hard…" she said quietly. "If I try to force the leylines to heal everything at once, they'll snap. Or something ugly will notice the strain."

  Thragg's crimson eyes and the Glass flickered through my mind. I didn't argue.

  "Which means," Marius concluded, "that we must plan for the drought to ease slowly, over years, not weeks. Only in serious cases will Her Highness intervene using the Crown."

  He shifted to another map, this one showing Thalassaria squeezed between larger shapes labelled in different scripts.

  "This brings us to our neighbours."

  A little rustle went around the table and even the bland noble sat up slightly.

  Letters lay open in front of Isolde with wax seals broken. Neat Erebian script, looping Velandrian flourishes, Calydrian economy. The kind of paper that always hid knives.

  Marius didn't read them aloud, he just summarised while Isolde watched.

  It took me a while, but I began to understand the picture.

  Calydria was the first to welcome Isolde’s coronation and call it "a chance to reset old misunderstandings." They offered generous grain shipments in exchange for long-term tariff reductions at the eastern ports of their River Aethel, some oversight on customs, and a permanent Calydrian trade house in Solstara with extraterritorial rights.

  Velandria offered a "mutual defence pact" with their troops stationed in Thalassaria’s Ironclaw Mountain border forts and nothing about Thalassaria in theirs. It was stupid, since the mountains already provided a natural divide between the two nations, and Thalassaria therefore barely deployed troops there. They also claimed that they would, out of the goodness of their hearts, "assist" with the costs of repairing Thalassarian navy if Isolde flew their banner alongside hers on certain routes.

  Which was just their way of trying to take Thalassaria’s naval powers, since they always had lesser naval power than Calydria.

  And then there was Erebia.

  They sent condolences for the King's death and regret that relations had cooled. They noted that Kaelan had begun cooperating with their drought research and would like to know if Isolde intended to honour his promises. They also inquired whether the Crown Jewel might one day return to "its place of safe keeping" in their vaults.

  Safe keeping. The words sat in my mouth like spoiled meat.

  "We cannot fight them, they're all bigger than us in many ways," the pinched noble said, his voice tight. "We mustn't pretend otherwise. If refusing their offers offends them, we may find Erebian ships blockading our harbours instead of trading in them."

  "We can't say yes either," Isolde replied, her tone flat. "I won't restart Kaelan's rituals. Not for Erebia. Not for anyone."

  "That leaves us with a problem," Marius said, tapping his fingers lightly on the table's edge. "We need food, timber, and cloth. They need something to make helping us worth more than cutting us apart."

  He glanced at me.

  "Which is where your insight comes in."

  Every set of eyes that hadn't turned to me yet did now.

  “Hey, I'm not a Royal Strategist,” I said, watching Marius chuckle. What was so funny? I leaned back a little, buying time while I thought.

  "Alright. Before I pretend to be clever," I said, "maybe walk me through what you've already considered. I don't want to reinvent your wheel."

  Marius inclined his head and began sketching the bones of their earlier discussions.

  They'd talked about opening smaller trade, of sending lower envoys, of trying to play Velandria and Calydria against each other just enough to keep both from pushing too hard. Ideas, not decisions. Isolde had, so far, replied to all three letters with polite acknowledgements and no commitments.

  "And Marquis Goldhaven?" I asked when Marius was done. "Where do you fit?"

  Borric jumped slightly at being singled out, especially with me using his title. I smirked at his reaction and he gave me a dry look.

  "Thorvyn, I'm a merchant at heart, politics isn't for me. But I see numbers when I hear offers," he said after a moment, his voice gaining a little confidence. "Who gains, who loses.”

  “That’s why you're valuable.”

  Borric added, “Right now, if we accept Velandria or Calydria's terms, we survive winter but pay for it for twenty years. If we do nothing, we starve faster, yes, but with cleaner accounts."

  “Yes, but you know the problem with that,” Valtor said.

  Borric grimaced. "Yup. That's not an actual option, sadly. People can't eat principles."

  "Velandria and Calydria both signed the Code of Coastal Trade two generations ago," Marius said, picking up the thread. "They pretend it's symbolic now, but it does still exist on parchment.”

  Isolde followed, “With Borric's Contracts, we might be able to make that code matter again. At least in our ports. What do you say, Borric?”

  "I can surely bind specific harbourmasters, ambassadorial lords, the ones who sign," Borric said, warming to his thought now. "Not whole nations at once. Nations don't bleed from Contract backlash. People do."

  Those were some effective words.

  "I see the shape," I said. "You want me to sign off on that? Or something else?"

  Isolde's gaze flicked to the nobles across from her before coming back to me.

  "I want your judgement," she said, her voice formal and measured. "On whether relying on a Valtherian, a merchant, and a tired Queen to dance around three larger powers is madness. And, separately, on whether approaching Ethenia is worth the effort."

  Her voice was formal, professional. She wore a Queen’s face and asked him that question as seriously as she could.

  Before I could speak, the bland-faced noble decided it was his time.

  "With all respect, Your Majesty," he said, fingers drumming on the table in a nervous rhythm, "entrusting our kingdom's future to a barbarian's instincts seems optimistic. Valtherians are not known for subtlety or restraint. Nor for understanding written agreements. Plus he's leaving.”

  Two others nodded, one slower and more reluctant than the other.

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  There it was.

  I opened my mouth, but Marius beat me to it. "Lord Hadrin," he said mildly, setting down his quill with deliberate care, "you were not with us in Veridian when this 'barbarian' untangled a Concord scheme even I had missed. You were not in the Ironwood grove when he chose where to hit Vorlag so his blessing collapsed instead of detonating the whole forest. Please put some respect on his name."

  Marius rarely raised his voice and he didn't have to. The fact that he used those particular examples did enough.

  I was honestly surprised he defended me like that. Valtor seemed to share my surprise, as his brows had gone up.

  "I am merely suggesting caution," Hadrin said, colour rising in his cheeks. If Marius judged my words wise, no other noble in the nation could doubt it. "Our Stormblade is formidable with an axe. That is not the same as reading the currents between empires."

  "Then test him," Valtor said suddenly, his tone casual but his eyes sharp. "If he says something stupid, you can throw fish at him later."

  Isolde's lips twitched and she turned back to me.

  "What do you think, Thorvyn?" she asked. "Of Velandria, Calydria, Erebia, and Ethenia."

  Talk about peer pressure.

  "All right," I said. "First of all, what you guys can't do. You can't pretend you're not weak right now, but you also can't show your belly and invite anyone who wants a bite. Picking a single 'protector' is how Kaelan dug this hole."

  No one interrupted, which was nice.

  "Erebia is desperate," I went on, leaning forward and looking at the massive stone wall depicted on the map's northern edge. "That wall keeps their armies out, but it doesn't stop their hunger. Their own drought is chewing at them. If you align with them, you aren't just getting grain; you're letting the Empire put a leash on the North. Eventually, they’ll want the Jewel back, and that Great Wall will start looking less like a shield and more like a cage."

  No one argued that.

  "As for Velandria and Calydria, even though they are bullies,” I continued, tapping the western and eastern borders on the map – Velandria’s peaks and Calydria’s river. The Ironclaw Mountains in the west and the River Aethel to our east. "They want what big neighbours always want around a smaller country. Ports, tax cuts, and excuses to put their soldiers on your soil. If you let one of them do it, the other will protest in letters and then copy it when you're too tired to say no."

  "You're just repeating what Marquis Marius said. What is your brilliant plan?" Hadrin asked, more carefully this time.

  "Bleed them for trade instead of blood," I said, looking at Borric. "I’ll be blunt, it's obvious why you guys gave Borric such a lofty title. Commoners are granted the title of Baron for their achievements, sure, but a direct promotion to Marquis? And yet the nobles didn't complain because Marius backed this decision. You guys know the significance of his Class.”

  “....” Isolde frowned in an unfriendly way, while Borric looked surprised. What, hadn't he realized that?

  “It's not a bad plan. So don't be shy since you’ve got him by your side. Make sure Marquis Goldhaven's contracts mean they profit more by selling to us than carving us up. Play them against each other a little. If Calydria raises tariffs elsewhere, Velandria lowers here and so on,” I paused. “That buys you time."

  "How much time?" Isolde asked, her eyes calculating.

  "I have no idea, I never ran a kingdom,” I admitted in all honesty.

  “Should buy us two years,” Marius provided. Everyone hummed.

  “Two years is a long time in a situation like this. By then Thalassaria should be stable thanks to the Crown’s help," I said. "It's a solid plan, you guys figure out the details, and in a few years Thalassaria is stronger and richer than ever, whereas Erebia is weakened because of drought, and the other two neighbours grow more respectful as Isolde’s name spreads."

  “What do you mean by the last part? How would her name change anything? If they didn't respect King Asharion…” Borric asked, and it was a stupid question since everyone else knew it already.

  “Velandria and Calydria treat us like we're less than them in recent decades,” Isolde explained to her latest Marquis. “I guess their intelligence somehow realized that we've lost the Crown, or that we couldn't operate it because of some limitation. But now that the jewel is here, they must have felt the aura it released. Along with official reports. While I'm still just 6th Ascension in paper, with the Crown I should be able to punch up to their 8th Ascension Kings. I'm now in a legitimate competition and they don't want to be disrespectful.”

  Borric understood the situation, nodding deeply. I smiled at Isolde at her fantastic explanation but she avoided meeting my eyes.

  Huh?

  "Alright then. That still leaves one more," Marius reminded me, his finger drifting to the top of the map. "To the North. Erebia looms over that whole horizon."

  "And tucked just behind them to the Northwest... is Ethenia," I noted.

  That got everyone's attention. I wasn't an expert, but I'd done my research about Ethenia.

  "Ethenia and Erebia have been glaring at each other for centuries, right?" I asked. "They don't share a God, a language, or a calendar, but they share a border and they don't want the other to own more coast. If you quietly poke Ethenia and say, 'Hey, Erebia is sniffing around my ports, would you like a say?' they might listen. Especially now that you wear that crown."

  "We're avoiding Erebia, but you want to make us a pawn in their game instead?" the hawk-nosed lady asked, her voice sharp.

  "Everyone is in a game, within a board," I said. "Isn't that the basics of politics? You just haven't picked who's moving you yet. Better to be a piece both sides hesitate to sacrifice than a free square everyone runs over and wants to occupy. You need allies, I'm not suggesting you give them your throne."

  “Sure, but–”

  “Small countries cannot afford inefficiency. Morality does not feed people, systems do. Stability beats ideology,” I listed with a frown. “It's lucky that you guys have the royal Crown, so it will allow you guys to overcome troubles. But that's in the future. First you have to come out of drought, hunger, and poverty.”

  "Spoken like someone who's watched too much chess," Valtor muttered, though he sounded amused. “Which is strange for a barbarian. You are incredibly odd.”

  I shrugged. "You don't have to win every fight yourself, no, you don't even have to fight much. You just make the mandatory fights expensive enough that people think twice. Your allies won't attack you if it's costing them too much.”

  Isolde watched me closely while I spoke and so did Marius. Borric looked half impressed, half terrified.

  "Thank you for your words, Thorvyn. We will consider them deeply," Isolde said finally, her tone full of gratitude. "Since you mentioned Ethenia it reminds me… the subject about your mother.”

  I met her gaze. That was stupid of her.

  “Wait, his mother is from Ethenia?” the hawk-nosed woman scowled. “Isn't he simply trying to garner benefit from us?”

  "I'm from the Volcanic Islands, Ethenia’s politics do not interest me. Ethenia has Waybound Academy, thousand year old libraries, and scholars who like cosmic puzzles. It's not suffering from a drought either. I don't know it's politics, but what reasons would it have to eat you guys up?” I said. "My mother was seen somewhere in the empire, I don't know if she's a native there.”

  Isolde understood her mistake and said, “I can vouch for Thorvyn. He has never met his mother before, and is searching for her. There's no ulterior motives in his advice. It was we who called him here, remember, so please stop making him feel like he's forcing us to listen.”

  The nobles cleared their throat.

  Nobody spoke for a bit. The room went quiet in the way it does when people are recalculating you in their heads.

  Isolde and Marius began to talk among themselves, mostly in whispers even as they sat at the table, and soon nodded to each other.

  She looked down at the letters, then back up.

  "All right," she said. "We answer Velandria and Calydria with offers of trade, carefully written. No troops on our soil, no joint commands. Just grain and gold. Borric, you'll draft those pacts. Use your Class judiciously. We will not be known as a kingdom that cheats, but we will not be na?ve either."

  Borric straightened in his chair. "Yes, Your Majesty," he said. "I'll make sure the only way they can break terms without pain is by being honest. They won't like that."

  "Good," she said. "Let them squirm a little."

  She shifted her attention to Marius. "Tell us about Erebia, uncle."

  "We send polite thanks for their condolences," Marius said, his fingers steepled in front of him. "We express regret that Kaelan's work cannot continue under current moral and metaphysical constraints, as well as openly throwing Black Concord’s name. That it wasn't us researching this but that evil cult who'd manipulated Kaelan. We remind them that Thalassaria is a sovereign state, but leave one small door open. That if they want to talk about conventional trade later, without rituals or Jewels, we might listen."

  "Yes, loose enough to keep them from panicking," Isolde murmured. "Tight enough that I don't wake up one morning to find a ritual circle in my courtyard."

  "That is the idea," Marius said.

  Isolde turned fully toward me.

  "And as for Ethenia," she said, "we will play the long hand. We'll discuss terms with them and…" she hesitated. “While this wasn't my intention when I titled you my Stormblade, when you make waves in Erebia as you're destined to, my nation’s name will be elevated. So I'll help you as much as I can, beyond my old promise as your friend, and instead as the Queen, to make your journey to Ethenia smooth.”

  She leaned back slightly in her chair and the Crown pulsed once, casting faint purple light across her features.

  "You remember the teleportation fields...?" she asked. "We have one here. Old Erebian infrastructure from back when we were a province. It links us to two major Erebian cities, one of which is right under the mountains connecting Erebia and Ethenia. From there, you can skirt the mountains and reach the Ethenian border."

  "I thought it's only between cities of the same nation?" I asked.

  "Yes, but as I said, this is from back when we were part of Erebia. So it connects to it. It links us to two major Erebian cities," she went on, ignoring my comment. "From one of those, there is a ground route to an Ethenian border city. I know it. I used it once, years ago. Please give us a few days as we prepare it."

  "How generous of the past to line our paths," Valtor said dryly.

  Isolde continued as if she hadn't heard him.

  "I do hope this will speed up your journey even if only a little." she said. "We'll send you to that border city with my seal. From there, you can cross without trouble and search wherever you wish to. I don't ask you for anything, since your vision is to seek glory anyway. You seeking glory indirectly will glorify my name.”

  “Can't believe I've fallen right into Queen Isolde's trap. And here I thought she was an innocent girl, unable to even take advantage of the blind,” I said and only then did I receive a reaction from her today.

  She looked stunned, eyes wide in fear that wondered if I truly thought that, before I added, “I'm joking.”

  “Thorvyn,” she scowled, looking hurt. “I'd never do that to you. You are free to throw the title away if you think I anointed it for my benefit.”

  “I know you won't think like that of me,” I said, softening my voice. “And even if you were, I wouldn't mind. If my glory can enrich you, isn't my life that much more fulfilling?”

  She paused, blinked, and blushed brighter than last time. She was really trying to be professional today, but look at her now.

  She looked away from me.

  The table grew incredibly awkward, while Valtor began to laugh to himself.

  Marius cleared her throat. "Well since you will be in Ethenia soon, there's something else you should know. The Mythborn Trials will be announced soon, if they haven't already."

  "The what Trials?" I asked.

  "Once every few decades, Ethenia opens its capital to challengers, for people to make a name for themselves, in a journey to become myths and legends," Isolde began to speak again as if to regain her composure. “Warriors, mages, alchemists and scholars. Anyone the System marks as interesting. They test them in public, rank them, and offer positions in their courts, their armies, and even their academies. It's a fun thing."

  "Like a recruitment fair with more violence," I said.

  "You can say that, yes," she said. "Last time, Waybound sent its best students. Velandria sent battlemages. Erebia sent spies and called them 'envoys.' The System rewarded those who survived and the empire gained new toys.”

  “Sounds like something I must participate in if I want to find my mother faster,” I said. The logic was simple, if my name grew big, she’d recognize me.

  She looked like she wanted to attend it if she was still a Way round student. It must be something very prestigious since it happened every few decades.

  Her gaze brushed the Crown and the metal gleamed dully in the candlelight.

  She let out a slow breath.

  "I won't chain you here, Thorvyn," she said. "You've already done more for my family and my land than anyone had any right to ask. You have my permission to go search your mother whenever you wish."

  Isolde hid it well, but she looked incredibly sad as she said those words.

  I thought of my first day in this world, of the direwolf and the System trying to erase my soul. Of the Naga's workshop and her cryptic warnings. I thought of the woman whom I hoped was my mother, whom I'd never met, waiting for me somewhere out there.

  "Ethenia it is, then," I said.

  Her mouth quirked then smoothed out again. Professional mask back in place.

  "Very well, Thorvyn," she said. "We'll make preparations. Marquis Goldhaven, stay. We'll need to talk about routes and coin. Lord Hadrin, Lady Seras, thank you for your time, but you may go. Think on what you've heard."

  Chairs scraped and nobles rose, bowing low before filing out. Valtor clapped me on the shoulder as he went past, amusement dancing in his eyes. Yasafina gave me a curt nod on her way out, her expression unreadable.

  I stood when it seemed polite. "Well then, Your Majesty," I said.

  "Please, Thorvyn, not when we're alone," she answered, eyes softening up. She had tried her best to be professional but it was different when we were alone.

  A part of me wanted to have a special conversation with her. But another part knew that it was pointless. She'd been crowned as the Queen, and I was on my way into a different nation.

  I wondered what she felt about this.

  “Thank you for your help,” I decided to make things easier for her a bit by giving her a polite bow.

  We were close friends. But after this, we'd likely see each other only years later.

  I left the council chamber with a map of the continent half-formed in my head and a knot in my chest I didn't feel like picking at yet.

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