The lessons began the following morning.
General Corvus did not believe in gentle introductions.
A servant woke us before sunrise and informed us that our first tutor had already arrived. The statement carried the same quiet finality most orders in the Corvus household possessed.
By the time we reached the study the lamps were still burning against the gray light outside.
Cassian looked annoyed at the early hour.
Lucien looked curious.
I looked at my father.
General Xandros Corvus stood beside the large table at the center of the room. His posture suggested the day had begun hours earlier for him.
Another man stood near the window.
Tall. Still. Pale in the way only elves seemed capable of being without appearing fragile.
Silver hair fell neatly across the collar of a dark coat whose cut suggested wealth without extravagance.
When his eyes turned toward us the room seemed to grow quieter.
My father spoke first.
“This is Lord Therion Valmyr.”
The elf inclined his head slightly.
“An imperial diplomat,” my father continued. “And one of the longest serving advisers currently attached to the court.”
Cassian straightened slightly.
Lucien’s attention sharpened immediately.
My father continued.
“Lord Valmyr arrived at the estate late last night. He had been delayed in the capital attending negotiations between the imperial treasury and the merchant council.”
Therion’s expression did not change.
“The discussion proved longer than expected,” the elf said calmly.
Xandros nodded once.
“He was not present at dinner for that reason. You will show him the respect appropriate to his station.”
His eyes moved across the three of us.
“Lord Valmyr will teach diplomacy.”
The elf stepped forward.
“You will sit.”
We did.
My father remained standing near the wall.
Therion clasped his hands behind his back and observed us for several seconds before speaking.
“Diplomacy,” he said at last, “is the art of making other people believe that your interests are also their own.”
Cassian leaned back in his chair.
“That sounds like lying.”
Therion regarded him calmly.
“It often is.”
Lucien smiled faintly.
The elf continued.
“But effective diplomacy requires something more dangerous than deception.”
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He placed a folded letter on the table.
“Understanding.”
Cassian glanced at the paper.
“You brought court letters to a lesson?”
“I brought a problem,” Therion replied.
He opened the letter.
“The Duchy of Alverin has requested imperial assistance.”
His finger rested lightly on the parchment.
“Raiding parties from the northern frontier have struck their border villages repeatedly during the last three months.”
Cassian shrugged.
“So we send soldiers.”
Therion continued reading.
“The duchy also owes the imperial treasury three years of unpaid taxes.”
Lucien leaned back slightly.
“That sounds less like a request for help and more like a negotiation.”
Therion looked toward him.
“Explain.”
Lucien folded his hands.
“If the empire sends troops, the duchy gains protection and buys time to settle its debts.”
Cassian snorted.
“Or they avoid paying entirely.”
Lucien did not look at him.
“They cannot avoid it forever.”
Cassian leaned forward.
“Why not?”
“Because the empire could simply send an army.”
Cassian smiled slightly.
“Exactly.”
Lucien shook his head.
“That only works if the empire is willing to spend more money occupying the region than the taxes are worth.”
Cassian frowned.
“That makes no sense.”
Lucien sighed.
“War is expensive.”
Therion watched the exchange quietly.
Cassian crossed his arms.
“So what would you do?”
Lucien hesitated.
“Send a smaller force. Enough to stabilize the border.”
Cassian shook his head.
“That solves nothing.”
Therion finally turned toward me.
“And you?”
I studied the letter.
The situation felt familiar.
Empires had faced variations of this problem for centuries.
“The duchy is not asking for soldiers,” I said.
Cassian frowned.
“They clearly are.”
“No.”
Lucien leaned forward slightly.
“What do you mean?”
“They are asking for legitimacy.”
Therion’s eyes sharpened.
“Continue.”
I placed a finger on the map.
“If the empire intervenes publicly, the duchy becomes part of imperial affairs rather than a regional dispute.”
Lucien nodded slowly.
“That discourages rival nobles from exploiting their weakness.”
Cassian looked skeptical.
“You assume the duchy is thinking that far ahead.”
“They are.”
“Why?”
“Because unpaid taxes invite imperial attention.”
Lucien’s eyes flickered with understanding.
“So they created a situation where refusing assistance would embarrass the empire.”
“Yes.”
Therion spoke quietly.
“And if the empire refuses?”
“The duchy presents itself as abandoned.”
Cassian leaned forward.
“That is when we send soldiers and force them to pay.”
“That creates a different problem,” I said.
Cassian frowned.
“What problem?”
“The rest of the border provinces will see the empire punish a duchy under attack.”
Lucien nodded slowly.
“That could encourage them to seek protection elsewhere.”
Cassian looked irritated.
“You are both assuming too much.”
Lucien smiled faintly.
“Diplomacy is assuming correctly.”
Therion folded his hands behind his back.
“Then propose a solution.”
Cassian spoke first.
“Send an army.”
Therion said nothing.
Lucien answered next.
“Send negotiators and delay.”
Therion’s gaze returned to me.
“And you?”
I considered the map.
Then I spoke.
“Send soldiers.”
Cassian laughed.
“That was my answer.”
“No,” I said calmly. “Send soldiers under the duchy’s command.”
Silence settled over the room.
Lucien leaned forward.
“Explain.”
“The empire publicly agrees to defend the duchy,” I said.
I tapped the map.
“But the troops operate as auxiliary forces supporting the duchy’s own army.”
Cassian frowned.
“That changes nothing.”
“It changes everything.”
Lucien’s eyes narrowed.
“The duchy receives protection,” he said slowly.
“But remains responsible for defending its own territory.”
“Yes.”
Therion watched silently.
Lucien continued.
“And if the campaign fails, the duchy appears weak rather than the empire.”
“Correct.”
Cassian looked uncertain.
“And the taxes?”
“They are suspended temporarily.”
Cassian frowned.
“That sounds like a reward.”
“No.”
I pointed to the northern trade road marked on the map.
“The empire demands mining rights instead.”
Lucien stared at the map.
“Aether crystal.”
“Yes.”
Understanding dawned slowly.
“The duchy receives protection.”
“The empire receives resources.”
“And the taxes are recovered through trade.”
Cassian leaned back.
“That still sounds complicated.”
Lucien shook his head.
“No.”
He looked toward me.
“That solves three problems.”
Therion spoke quietly.
“Which three?”
Lucien counted softly.
“The border stabilizes.”
“The duchy remains loyal.”
“And the empire gains direct access to the mines.”
Therion studied me.
“You propose transforming a defensive request into an economic agreement.”
“Yes.”
“And if the duchy refuses?”
“Then the empire offers the same agreement to neighboring provinces.”
Lucien blinked.
Cassian stared.
Therion tilted his head slightly.
“You would undermine their leverage.”
“Yes.”
The room fell silent.
Therion turned toward the window.
Outside the mist over the gardens had begun to fade.
“That will be enough for today.”
Cassian looked annoyed.
Lucien looked thoughtful.
I remained seated.
Therion folded the letter carefully.
Then he looked at me again.
Only for a moment.
But the interest in his eyes was unmistakable.
Then the elf turned toward the door.
“General Corvus,” he said quietly, “your sons learn quickly.”
My father nodded once.
But his gaze had already shifted toward me.
And he was no longer looking at me like a child.
