Early in the morning, Irene awoke and headed straight to the library.
She entered the royal library with quiet steps. The hall was empty.
She looked around calmly, then walked forward and sat on one of the long benches before the large wooden table, without saying a word.
Minutes passed.
Then the door opened, and a man in his fifties entered — of medium build, sharp features, and dressed in dark, elegant clothes befitting his position.
Irene stopped gazing at the shelves and immediately stood up.
She spoke in a soft but confident voice:
"Good morning, sir."
He gave her a brief nod, without a smile, and replied in a dry tone:
"Sit down, Miss Irene."
She sat as instructed, and he began opening some of the books he'd brought. Without lifting his gaze, he said:
"I will be responsible for your lessons in history, geography, and politics… Today, we begin from the beginning. There is no value in any title or position if you don't know how this kingdom was formed."
He slowly closed one of the books and asked:
"Did you know that our kingdom was not always as you see it today?"
She shook her head.
"More than three centuries ago… there was one great kingdom ruled by a single king. But when he died without a legitimate heir, a conflict erupted between two branches of his lineage: one settled in the east — which later became the Kingdom of Eiscard, where we are now — and the other in the west, now known as the Kingdom of Valerian."
He paused, measuring her interest, then continued:
"At first, both sides tried to maintain peace, but ambition does not leave kings in peace. Your grandfather… the Ice King Sekarno II… was the first to reignite the flame of war, after he attempted to annex southern territories belonging to Valerian."
Irene looked at him with interest.
She asked, "Were those lands… ours?"
He gave a faint smile and said:
"They belonged to no one. They were borderlands rich in minerals, but had been outside either side's control for centuries. Over time… they became desirable to all. And once war began, that greed turned to bloodshed."
He paused again, then said slowly:
"The war lasted thirty years. Thirty years of loss, death, and ruin… And in the end, no one won. Both sides realized they could not destroy the other."
"On top of that," he added in a heavier tone, "pressure from neighboring kingdoms increased, and all feared the spread of destruction. A truce was reached, signed in a neutral kingdom — where swords were set down, and pens were raised."
Irene whispered, "And the lands were divided?"
He nodded.
"Yes. The lands that belonged to no one were divided, just to stop the war. But they were never forgotten. Valerian… did not forgive. Their people never forgot that we were the ones who struck first. And now, after all these years, many still see us as occupiers."
He paused again, then said with sharp clarity:
"And when you go there… some will see you only as a symbol of that past. Don't rejoice too much in the flowers offered at first… because beneath them lie many thorns."
He closed the first book and opened another, leather-bound and dark.
"Now we move to the part that concerns you most… the Kingdom of Valerian."
He looked up at her.
"You are aware, of course, that your upcoming visit will be there."
She didn't answer. She only nodded slowly.
He continued:
"Valerian… is a land of stone and iron. Its people are stern. They don't care for soft words or unfamiliar faces.
If you wish to remain among them, you must understand how they see the world."
(He's basically telling her: don't expect them to accept you easily.)
He reached for a stack of books and handed them to her one by one.
"This one covers their royal lineage… this, their internal provinces… and this is a list of key political figures — those who rose and those who fell. Read them all. I will question you about them later."
Irene picked up the first book, flipped through a few pages, and said without looking at him:
"The former queen was named Elenora. She died during childbirth, giving birth to the crown prince… Prince Bastian.
The king is still alive, unmarried since, and holds strong influence in Valerian.
His brother-in-law was exiled ten years ago for treason, yet still has loyal supporters…
As for the royal family…"
She stopped when she noticed he wasn't writing anything.
He was watching her closely, eyebrows slightly raised.
He said slowly,
"I haven't asked for a summary yet."
Then added, in a tone more curious than praising:
"You've memorized this beforehand?"
Irene raised her eyes to him, keeping her expression composed.
"I enjoy reading history, sir. I have a fair amount of knowledge about the four kingdoms — especially Valerian."
He didn't reply immediately.
He simply closed his notebook and studied her face for a few moments.
There was something in his eyes… unspoken, but present.
Not admiration — suspicion. As if he were trying to measure something hidden behind her silent brow.
(Let's not forget: rumors claim Irene's mother was actually a Valerian spy.)
In that moment, Irene realized…
She had made a mistake.
A mistake in revealing so much, so quickly, and without caution.
Outwardly, she appeared calm, but inwardly she erected a new wall.
She learned a lesson never written in books:
Even those you meet for the first time… should never know too much about you.
No one can be trusted — not anymore.
At last, the teacher said in a flat tone, though his gaze still held its quiet disbelief:
"Very well. We'll test this knowledge tomorrow. No need to repeat it now."
The next three hours were filled with instruction — explanations, questions, writing, and notes.
Irene gave nothing more than needed. She didn't repeat the mistake of the beginning.
Her answers were brief, as if she had suddenly learned how to be unreadable.
When he finally glanced at the time, he cast a last look at his papers and said:
"That's enough for today."
He gathered his books, arranged his papers, and left without bidding her farewell.
His footsteps faded between the shelves of knowledge… leaving behind a silence that knew too much.
---
Irene gathered the books he had given her, held them in her arms without haste.
She returned to her quarters in silence, sat on the floor — not on the chair — and spread the books around her like one preparing for a long battle.
She didn't open the first with curiosity, but with eyes weighing every line.
She read, and connected, and rearranged facts inside her mind — not to please anyone… but to survive the game she was thrown into without consent.
---
The next day:
With the first light of dawn, she was back in the library.
The place was as she had left it — the same chair, and the teacher entered at the exact minute, as if time made no difference to him.
He looked at her briefly, then sat and opened his notebook.
Without preamble, he said:
"Let's see… What do you remember from yesterday?"
She answered calmly:
"Valerian is divided into five main regions, each governed by a local lord tied to the central palace…
The most prominent political family currently is House Myrkal, with a long history of supporting the king — though one branch is suspiciously close to the exiled uncle of the crown prince…
The territories disputed in the last war are still under surveillance, and the people there openly reject our presence…"
She paused, then added:
"That's what I've gathered so far."
He watched her for several seconds before nodding slightly and saying:
"Your memory is sharp."
Then gave a faint smile and added:
"No need to go over what we've covered — we'll move on."
The following hours passed routinely: maps, dates, negotiation tactics, and foreign court protocols.
She followed with keen eyes, noted what mattered, and ignored what didn't.
As the lesson neared its end, the teacher gave his notes a final glance, then said in a more serious tone:
"Tomorrow… a messenger is expected from the Kingdom of Valerian.
He will carry a preliminary letter from the king himself.
When he presents it, you will stand, listen… and respond."
She looked up at him.
He said:
"No one expects you to speak on behalf of the kingdom — not yet…
But the king wants you to be seen representing it, even symbolically."
Then he stood and added:
"Tomorrow, I'll train you on what to say… and what not to say.
This is where the real beginning lies."
He left…
While Irene remained, staring at the empty seat across from her — not thinking about what to say tomorrow,
but about what she must never show.