The breakfast hall buzzed with forced normalcy—servants moving with practiced efficiency while nobles made conversation that carefully avoided mentioning the four strangers sitting at the high table. Alex pushed eggs around his plate, noting how Lord Garrett's eyes lingered on Vlad's scarred knuckles, how Lady Morwyn's smile faltered whenever she looked at Nyt, how the younger nobles whispered behind hands whenever Eli offered to help clear dishes.
Fear disguised as courtesy. They were already becoming weapons in the minds of their captors, and none of them had even demonstrated their abilities yet.
"The training yards await," announced Sir Marcus, the kingdom's weapons master. A scarred man in his fifties, he carried himself with the confidence of someone who'd survived countless battles. "We'll assess your natural talents before—"
"I'd like to explore the library first," Alex interrupted, setting down his fork. "If we're supposed to be heroes, shouldn't we understand what we're fighting for?"
King Aldric nodded approvingly. "Of course. Knowledge is a hero's greatest weapon." The platitude rolled off his tongue with practiced ease.
"I'll come with you," Eli offered immediately.
"Actually," Alex said, not looking at the nursing student, "I work better alone. Too many people asking questions breaks my concentration." He stood, offering what he hoped looked like an apologetic smile. "Maybe later?"
Eli's face fell slightly, but he nodded. Alex felt a brief stab of something that might have been guilt—back home, he would have invited the guy along, might even have enjoyed the company. But back home, Eli couldn't get them all killed with misplaced idealism.
The library was exactly what Alex had expected from a failing kingdom—impressive at first glance, but full of gaps where valuable books had been sold off to fund increasingly desperate schemes. Still, enough remained to paint a picture of the political landscape, and Alex settled into a corner with histories of the recent rebellions, trade agreements with neighboring kingdoms, and military records.
He was deep in a particularly illuminating account of Lord Garrett's "heroic" retreat from the eastern provinces when footsteps approached. Soft-soled shoes, careful placement—someone trying not to be heard by anyone except their intended target.
"Fascinating reading?" The voice was cultured, amused. Alex looked up to see a man in his forties, well-dressed but not ostentatiously so. Someone who wanted to blend into the background of court life.
"History usually is," Alex replied carefully. "I'm sorry, I don't think we've been introduced."
"Ser Roderick Vale. I serve as... let's say advisor to certain interested parties." The man settled into the chair across from Alex uninvited. "I wondered if we might have a conversation. About your... situation."
Alex set down the book, keeping his expression neutral. "My situation?"
"Come now. You're clearly the intelligent one among your group. The one who thinks before he acts." Roderick's smile was practiced, designed to put young men at ease. "It can't have escaped your notice that you've been placed in an impossible position."
"Impossible how?"
"The kingdom is dying, young Alex. Oh, the King speaks of rallies and victories, but the truth is written in empty granaries and abandoned villages. The threats we face—plague, famine, the barbarian raids—they're symptoms of a deeper rot." Roderick leaned forward conspiratorially. "You've been summoned to hold back the tide with nothing but your bare hands."
Alex felt something cold settle in his chest—not fear, but recognition. This was the first move in what would become a very complex game. "And you're offering... what? An alternative?"
"Information. Resources. Perhaps even a way home, given time and the right connections." Roderick's voice dropped to barely above a whisper. "There are those who recognize that the current order is unsustainable. Who are working toward... necessary changes."
"A coup."
"Such a harsh word. I prefer 'transition of power.'" Roderick studied Alex's face for any sign of shock or moral outrage. Finding none, he continued. "The question is whether you and your companions will be tools of a doomed regime, or allies of those with the vision to rebuild."
Alex was quiet for a long moment, letting patterns click into place in his mind. Roderick thought he was dealing with a confused, frightened young man who could be turned with the right combination of fear and false promises. The spymaster—because that's clearly what he was—had chosen Alex specifically because he appeared to be the weakest link. No obvious physical prowess like Vlad, no mysterious magical resonance like Nyt, no naive heroism like Eli.
Just a college student in over his head.
It was perfect.
"What would you need from me?" Alex asked, allowing a hint of uncertainty to creep into his voice.
"Information, primarily. The King's plans for your group. Any special training or missions you're given. And perhaps..." Roderick paused, as if considering whether to continue. "Perhaps you might encourage your companions to be less... cooperative with certain requests."
"You want us to sabotage our own training."
"I want you to preserve yourselves. What good are dead heroes to anyone?" Roderick's expression was earnest, fatherly. "The kingdom's enemies grow stronger every day. If the King throws you into battle unprepared, you'll die for nothing. But if you're cautious, if you survive long enough for the political situation to... stabilize... then perhaps we can find a way to send you home."
Alex felt his pulse quicken, not with hope but with anticipation. This was better than he'd dared expect—a direct line into the kingdom's shadow politics, delivered to him by someone who thought they were manipulating a frightened child.
"How do I know you're not just another faction trying to use us?"
"Because I'm offering you a choice, which is more than anyone else has done." Roderick spread his hands. "Stay loyal to a dying king and face certain death, or help ensure there's a kingdom worth saving when the dust settles."
"And if I refuse?"
"Then you refuse. I'm not in the business of threatening potential allies." Roderick's smile was warm, understanding. "Though I would ask that you keep our conversation private. There are those who would view any discussion of alternatives as... treasonous."
Alex nodded slowly, as if weighing a difficult decision. In reality, he was already three moves ahead, seeing how this connection could be leveraged, what information he could feed back to extract maximum advantage.
"I need time to think," he said finally.
"Of course. Take all the time you need." Roderick stood, straightening his doublet. "But don't take too long. The situation is... fluid. Opportunities that exist today may not exist tomorrow."
After the spymaster left, Alex sat in the empty library for another hour, his mind racing through possibilities. The kingdom wasn't just politically fractured—it was actively tearing itself apart. Roderick represented one faction, probably Lord Garrett's based on some of the military records Alex had read. But there would be others. Lady Morwyn had her own agenda, certainly. The younger nobles would have their own schemes. Even the church probably had interests that didn't align with the crown's.
A chessboard with dozens of players, each thinking they were the master manipulator.
And none of them realizing that a new player had just joined the game. One who didn't care about their kingdom's survival, their noble causes, or their ancient feuds. One who had already started calculating exactly how to turn their ambitions into weapons against each other.
By the time Alex returned to the guest quarters, he had the outline of a plan that would have horrified the person he'd been just two days ago. But that person had lived in a world where the worst consequence of miscalculation was a failed grade or an awkward conversation.
This person lived in a world where miscalculation meant death.
"How was the library?" Nyt asked when he found her and Vlad in the common area they'd been given. She was practicing with small sparks of light, making them dance between her fingers with increasing control.
"Educational," Alex said. "We need to talk. All of us."
"Including Eli?"
Alex considered. The nursing student was probably in the infirmary, trying to help with wounded soldiers from the latest barbarian raid. Still playing hero, still thinking he could save everyone with enough compassion and determination.
"Not yet," Alex decided. "Let him keep being the face they expect to see. We'll bring him in when we need him."
"When we need him for what?" Vlad asked, flexing his healing hand unconsciously.
Alex looked at his brother, at Nyt, at the comfortable prison they'd been placed in. Three people who had been ordinary students just days ago, now developing abilities that could reshape kingdoms if properly applied.
"To survive this world," he said simply. "And maybe improve our situation in the process."
He didn't mention that improving their situation would require destroying several others. Some truths were better revealed gradually, once his companions had come to the same conclusions on their own.
After all, he wasn't manipulating them.
He was simply helping them see the logical path forward.
The fact that it was the same path he would have chosen regardless was just... convenient.