Wiping the last remnants of his tears away, Aaron followed the others through the steaming ice shards. Bug had shattered the stone enclosure with the butt of his halberd. Aaron was careful not to touch the jagged edges of the hole. He walked right into a staring contest between a grinning Bug and the black visor of Shard’s Titan suit.

  She stomped her foot, and the ground churned with black liquid. With a rumble that he felt in his gut, the triangular rock walls sank into the ground. When did magic become something that just happens in the background? Aaron scratched his head. Probably when an assassination attempt had taken over the foreground.

  Within the cordon of soldiers, Aaron’s elbows locked with Rhea’s and Theon’s. He felt Quetzy’s warm presence linger for a second. His smile was light but genuine. Wouldn’t have thought they’d do therapy like this. That they care instead of just shrugging it off like warriors too tough to feel.

  Through companionable silence, they found their way to a four-story building. The rainwall held grapevines, and the white stone was elegantly carved. Institute of Statecraft, proclaimed an inscription over the entrance.

  Aaron’s stomach only curled slightly as a bonded slave bowed and led them toward a classroom. Apart from the slavery, that sure is a useful service to have. Rhea squeezed his hand, dispersing the tension. Aaron smiled at her.

  The classroom held a nasty surprise. Aaron’s least favorite people. Apart from the assassin parrot and whoever was behind him. Maybe Bug can arrange a meeting with the mind mage?

  A dark-skinned blonde woman met them with a stern gaze, flanked by two orange-robed novices. They stood between two rings of benches, bookshelves behind them. Cozy—if you ignored the tension.

  “I am Shamin Ki’Assan, Philosopher of Strategy,” her mild accent was melodic, yet clipped. “These are your instructors. They will teach you and assess if you are worthy of my time.”

  She looked over two separate groups. Aaron almost took a step back at the snake-like gaze that met him. She smiled.

  “Strategy is the art of overcoming adversity.” She pointed at Aaron, Erai, and Lyra.

  Aaron’s throat tightened as she motioned the others into one group. Shard and Bug remained silent, walking to the shelf and selecting books to read. Great, I am alone, apart from adult supervision.

  Rhea slapped him on the shoulder before leaving. “Have fun with your two lovebirds.” She smiled tightly, half mockery, half pity.

  Lovebirds? Aaron tried to ask, but Rhea had left quickly. Aaron wanted to call after her, but Rhea looked back with a grin and shook her head. Guess I need to deal with Xandros’ messes again.

  A tall orange-robed man walked toward them. He inclined his head slightly. Aaron’s eyes narrowed. He must have high social status.

  “I am Thales Noctales Ultima, your instructor. May the Bookworm guide our minds to fertile ground.”

  Aaron, remembering the etiquette lessons, inclined his head just as shallowly as the instructor had done. Suppressing a smile at the raised eyebrow, he spoke. “Aaron Hellionis Ultima Melas. I am eager to learn.”

  Everyone around him let out a sharp breath.

  Lyra, the sister, rallied first. “An extraordinary name. You must have been adopted recently by the revered Matriarch of House Hellionis?”

  Aaron gave her a tight smile. His counter-social-engineering skill tingled in the back of his mind. She’s fishing for information. Sometimes saying less says more.

  She looked at him expectantly, an amused smirk curling her mouth. She knows that I know that she knows. Aaron’s smile widened. She dipped her head, the gesture poised and sharp. A salute between duelists—rivals, not enemies. Those stat points in social really paid off.

  “I am Erai, daughter of Erostes Renakis,” Erai interjected, defiant pride in her voice.

  Aaron tilted his head. So that’s the clan that doesn’t acknowledge her. Should I point out that her correct name is Neonis? Rhea would do it.

  The others had already proceeded to one of the sitting circles.

  Lyra cleared her throat. “I am Lyra Albastis Ultima. May we grow under the guidance of the Eye.”

  The instructor motioned them to the benches, which were just the right mixture of hard and soft.

  Thales gazed across the room. “Statecraft. What is its essence?”

  Aaron narrowed his eyes. Is this a political trap? Or just how they teach here? I expected a lecture. Maybe my experience with the mind mage wasn’t that extraordinary?

  Erai broke his reverie. “The art of running the Polis. Of protecting it against internal and external foes.” Her eyes glinted as she met everyone’s eyes in turn. She lingered on Aaron, her expression unreadable.

  I told her to fuck off and that I’m not interested. But I also prevented her execution. She probably has complicated feelings.

  Thales continued, his muscular frame turning toward the slight form of Erai. “Why would a Polis have foes?”

  This time, Aaron spoke up. “Limited resources. If there is more than one being in the world, somehow resources need to be distributed, and this can lead to conflict—with one’s neighbor and fellow citizens.”

  Aaron looked around. The silence gnawed at his certainty. Just as he opened his mouth, Lyra spoke up. “Pride. It fuels more wars than gold ever could. Greed might raise wealth for all, but fear and pride? Those are scarce by nature. And when something’s scarce, people kill for it.”

  Aaron nodded along, and Thales smiled. “What would be concrete examples of the latter two resources?”

  Erai threw Lyra a venomous glare. “Only one woman may be the wife of a particular man before the Founder’s Flame.”

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  Aaron frowned at Thales’ amused grin. What is going on between the women?

  Lyra sniffed and raised her nose slightly. “Status. Some,” she smiled falsely at Erai, “must be lower for others to be higher.”

  Aaron interjected. “No, everyone can rise in status. Relative values always form a hierarchy, but the absolute values can rise.”

  Thales nodded with a raised eyebrow. “What would you say if I argued that that is the essence of civilization?” He gestured grandly. “The barbarian must have a single tyrant, but we know that the polis empowers all.”

  Aaron closed his eyes, barely controlling a sigh. Racist comments in three, two, one…

  Lyra shook her head. “Civilization is more general. No society is a pure tyranny, as every ruler needs those below him to rule effectively.”

  Erai barely concealed a sneer. “Those below might still wield a dagger sharp enough to overthrow a tyrant if she is overcome by arrogance.”

  Aaron looked between the two women. They really don’t like each other. What happened there?

  Thales cleared his throat. “And so, we are back to the start of the discussion. Envy and pride create foes, all too glad to wield daggers—even if they coat them in honey.” He sternly gazed at both women, who ignored him in favor of each other.

  I really need to figure out this aristocrat socializing. They obviously are talking about more than statecraft. But I just don’t know the local nuances.

  Thales shook his head. “So we arrive at the need to deal with enemies. How might we deal with them?”

  “Swiftly,” snapped Lyra.

  “Brutally,” hissed Erai.

  Theon met Aaron’s eyes and rolled them. A grin spread over Aaron’s lips. I do actually have something for this. Since Shakespeare worked so well, let’s try someone else.

  “With information. Know yourself and know the enemy, and you must not fear the outcome of a thousand battles,” Aaron paraphrased Sun Tzu.

  Thales gave Aaron a wry smile. “Yes, those who fail to comprehend what is going on cannot hope for victory.” He leaned back. “So, let us discuss the other leagues of the Polis. The barbarian tyrannies shall be a subject for another time. Why does Pella have the enemies and allies it has?”

  Aaron exhaled. And now I am absolutely clueless. Apart from some of Theon’s comments in the bath.

  Lyra’s face turned serious. “Trebass, for they despise divinity and turn mortals into abominations. Xeon, for they covet our colonies. Kyra—”

  Erai cut into her speech sharply, earning a glare sufficient to freeze a lake. “Kyrapolis, for they call poverty and debt ‘freedom’ and contest how we take care of the charges of the state.”

  Aaron frowned. Was that really freedom? Or just a prettier cage? His mind drifted—debt collectors in suits, a friend’s suicide over medical bills. Different words, same chains. The state shouldn’t have those rights over people’s choices. Then again, what about conscription and taxes? Or a secret police service? He swallowed hard.

  Lyra noticed his discomfort. “Do you disagree, Aaron?”

  I might, if I had any sort of clue. Trebass sounds like a religious thing. Xeon is a straight-up geopolitical competition. Probably all of them are. Kyrapolis… sounds like a capitalist society. An ideological war over economics? He shook his head. “So, we see all kinds of conflict here. Fear for Trebass, greed for Xeon, pride for Kyrapolis.”

  Thales nodded slowly. “A fascinating thesis. Whose pride fuels the animosity with Kyrapolis?”

  Erai smiled at Aaron. “Pride is the sharpest motivation. We and the Kyrapolitans sting each other through our very ways of being. One should never underestimate the depth of hatred scorn can produce.”

  Aaron met her gaze. It hit him like a pair of arrows, but he held steady. That was on-the-nose enough for me. Fuck you. I saved your life. Twice.

  Holding her gaze, he spoke, his voice arctic. “Pride is another way to describe stupidity when it’s shown in the face of help and generosity.”

  She sneered, but Thales inclined his head slightly and leaned back. Does he enjoy this mess of a conversation?

  “So, do you think there is no situation where pride has value?”

  Lyra spoke before Erai could. “Pride is the foundation of identity. Those who meditate beyond it become devoid of care. They will never transcend.”

  Erai nodded, her face a mask of disgust. “You… are correct. Pride is vital for those born to greatness. As long as it is tempered to justified levels. We are better than the masses. They should practice humility.”

  Well, that’s a hot take if I’ve ever heard one. Aaron suppressed a chuckle. It’s kind of funny how openly they believe this. If this happened back in my time, everyone would get canceled for it. But even Theon would disagree here.

  “A city isn’t just a brain or a heart—it’s a body. Cut off the hands and see how long the head survives. Arrogance blinds leaders. Cooperation keeps them alive.” He threw Erai a meaningful look on the last word.

  Thales interjected before the scold could explode into venom.

  “Arrogance and stupidity. Pride and identity. The higher and the lower,” he mused, looking around the group.

  Aaron’s heart was beating slightly faster. Lyra and Thales were perfectly calm, smiling. Erai, however, was failing to display the same relaxation.

  Thales continued. “Is there, then, a perfect ratio to be sought between these poles? What would be the nature of such a balance?”

  Aaron looked up in contemplation as Erai jumped to answer. “Power. Competing pride sets the boundaries. Be as prideful as you can—others will check you. It’s like the discipline slaves need.” Does she ever stop to think?

  Aaron narrowed his eyes. His stomach knotted. Punishing others into knowing their place?

  “This is wasteful. Such games of maximizing pride only hurt everyone. The control has to be internal in a functioning society. Assess how prideful you should be, and then act accordingly. We can think about experiments instead of burning our fingers performing them.”

  Lyra clicked her tongue. “What you’re proposing is a never-ending struggle of might and thought. It’s too complicated outside of special situations. Foremost, we should learn the ideal measure and follow it instinctively.”

  Erai smiled, teeth flashing white. “Some cling to base instincts more than others. But true refinement is knowing when to indulge and when to restrain.”

  Lyra looked at her with seemingly honest piety. Aaron would have believed it if not for his social skill guide screaming otherwise.

  “That may be true for those of common breeding,” she said smoothly, “but the high nobility knows such things by virtue of their ancestry. Right, Aaron?”

  Aaron opened his mouth. Lyra smiled at him with apparently genuine friendliness. Erai glared with undisguised anger. Some people are better at self-control. Sure. But this? My ancestry? Until yesterday, I was nobody.

  “Well—”

  Thales raised his hand as Philospher Shamin Ki’Assan returned. She exchanged nods with the instructor while ignoring the students. She is not getting a good rating from me.

  Thales spread his hands. “I expect three sheets of debate, written in perspectives honestly representing the viewpoints of the others, by our next session.”

  He stood, and all of them bowed. Only Erai did so stiffly at the hips, while the others merely inclined their heads.

  As Aaron rejoined his friends and guards, a yellow-robed apprentice burst into the room. For a moment, she looked about hesitantly, seeing these armored master mages and the expression on the professor’s face.

  Shamin Ki’Assan frowned deeply and was about to reprimand her, but the apprentice burst out with her message first.

  “Magister of Philosophy, Shamin Ki’Assan,” she bowed at her hips, then turned to the room at large.

  “There is a new champion of the Weaver among us in the polis! His name is Aaron Hellionis Ultima Melas!”

  Aaron stiffened. Every eye locked on him—like he’d just sprouted wings. His friends stayed calm. The others stared like they'd seen a prophecy walk in.

  A chill sliced down his spine. The room stared. The air thickened. He swallowed hard. Well. Shit.

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