Chapter 2: Invitation and Squeezed Lemons The tutor arrived exactly at dawn. Mael had been awake for an hour already, which wasn't unusual. Sleep was something he did when there was nothing more productive to occupy his time. This morning there had been plenty to think about. And by plenty, he meant how much he hated mornings. The tutor was a Normal-sized Milkman named Corvus, wearing spectacles that seemed unnecessary given Milkmen didn't have vision problems. Mael suspected they were affectation meant to make him look more scholarly. Always with the props. Corvus set down a leather case on the study table, pulling out several maps, which he spread across the surface with practiced efficiency. "We'll begin with geopolitics," Corvus said. He didn't ask if Mael was ready or offer any pleasantries. "The current world order consists of three major powers: the Fluffy Empire, the White Federation, and the Theology Kingdom. Each maintains distinct territorial claims based on control of the four great rivers that flow from the Center of the World." Mael already understood the basic geography, but he listened anyway. Sometimes tutors revealed useful details when they thought they were just covering fundamentals. He found listening patiently was usually the fastest way to get to the good parts. Corvus pointed to the map's center, where the great volcano was marked with elaborate religious symbols. "The Masuhati flows south and belongs exclusively to the Fluffy Empire. This is our primary source of milk and the foundation of imperial power. The Uxios flows east to the Theology Kingdom. The Albert flows north to the White Federation. And the Azuberi..." He paused, tapping the northwestern river with one finger. "The Azuberi is unclaimed territory. Officially, no nation uses it." "Why not?" Mael asked. "Treaty obligations from the Great War. The White Federation agreed to leave it untouched as part of the peace settlement. In exchange, the Empire recognized their sovereignty over the Albert and its tributaries." Mael studied the map. The Azuberi flowed close to Federation territory yet remained unused. That seemed wasteful. Rivers meant milk, and milk meant power. Leaving one completely empty suggested either remarkable restraint or hidden complications. "What prevents the Empire from redirecting it?" Mael asked. Corvus looked at him over his spectacles. "The same treaty. Any attempt to alter the Azuberi's course would be considered an act of war. The Federation has seven Titans in the Red Republic alone. We have..." He trailed off diplomatically. Spineless bastard. "We have the Center of the World," Mael finished. "Which means we control the source but not necessarily the military strength to defend it if everyone decided to attack at once." "Precisely. The Empire's power is geographical and political, not purely martial. We maintain balance through careful diplomacy and the threat of cutting off river access if provoked. But that threat only works if we're willing to destroy our own economy in the process." Mael filed that away. The Empire's strength was also its weakness. Control of the Center meant leverage, but leverage only mattered if you could actually use it without destroying yourself. Just like every form of power, really. Corvus moved on to internal politics. "The aristocracy divides into two primary factions: the Lord Party and the Civilian Party. The Lord Party operates through traditional hierarchical structures. Five duke families lead it, three forming the core leadership. They control most of the southern territories and maintain the largest private armies." "And the Civilian Party?" "Two duke families, but their power comes from popular support rather than military force. They use propaganda, public works, and carefully managed information to maintain influence over the masses. When the Lord Party wants to pass legislation, the Civilian Party can make it politically impossible, turning public opinion against it." "So they're in constant conflict." "Not constant. They cooperate when external threats require unity. But yes, most internal policy becomes a battleground between hierarchical authority and popular sentiment. The King traditionally mediates between them, which is why the succession matters so much. A king who favors one party over the other can shift the entire balance of power for decades." Mael thought about that. Three hundred princes meant three hundred potential kings with different political alignments. The parties would be evaluating all of them right now, trying to determine who could be influenced and who posed threats to their interests. It sounded exhausting for everyone involved. "What about the Federation?" Mael asked. Corvus pulled out another map showing the northern territories. "The White Federation consists of six republics: Red, Blue, Yellow, Green, Orange, and the original White. Each operates independently except in matters of foreign policy. The Red Republic leads because it has the most Titans and the strongest economy. Their leader is Saint Palatias, who has ruled for over two hundred years." "Why is the Orange Republic forbidden from leading?" "Political compromise from their formation. The Orange Republic was created through a territorial dispute that nearly caused civil war. As part of the settlement, they were granted full membership but permanently barred from the leadership position. It's a symbolic restriction more than a practical one, since they lack the military strength to lead anyway." Mael studied the Federation's territory. Six independent republics that barely cooperated except when threatened. That should have made them weak, but somehow they'd become the strongest power in the world. The contradiction was interesting. "How do they maintain unity if they're so divided?" "They don't, really. The Federation functions more like a mutual defense pact than a true nation. Each republic pursues its own interests until an external threat forces cooperation. But when they do cooperate, they can field more Titans than any other power, explaining why the Empire avoids direct confrontation." The lesson continued for another hour. Corvus covered trade routes, diplomatic relationships, historical conflicts, and current tensions. Mael absorbed it all, asking questions when something seemed unclear or contradictory. By the time Corvus finally paused, Mael's mind was full of maps, names, and political calculations. Then Corvus immediately pulled out a different set of documents. "History," he announced. "We'll begin with the formation of the first calendar in year one." Mael had been expecting a break. Apparently that wasn't happening. Corvus launched into a detailed explanation of how the tribal period ended when one particularly powerful tribe conquered all the others and established a unified calendar system. The tribe's leader had been a Colossus named Vahim, the origin of the religion's name. Vahim had ruled for sixty years before dividing into seventeen Large children, who then fought each other for control until one emerged victorious and continued the dynasty. "The tribal period lasted approximately three thousand years before Vahim's conquest," Corvus said. "We don't have precise records from that era because written language didn't exist yet. Most of what we understand comes from oral traditions that were eventually transcribed centuries later." "So it might not be accurate." "Almost certainly not. But it's the best information available, and the church considers it sacred history, which means questioning it publicly is inadvisable." Mael nodded. Sacred history meant political history. The church used the past to justify present power structures, which meant the past was whatever they needed it to be. What a convenience. Corvus continued through the revolution in year seventy-eight, when the unified kingdom split into three separate powers. Then the invention of steel in year four hundred seventy-two, which triggered decades of warfare as everyone rushed to rearm with superior weapons. The Fluffy Empire's formation in year four hundred ninety through military conquest. Prince Albert's revolution in year five hundred thirty-four, which created the White Republic and introduced Dahilistian as a deliberate mockery of the imperial language. "Albert was the King's brother," Corvus explained. "He disagreed with the Empire's aristocratic structure, believing power should be distributed more equally. When his proposals were rejected, he led a rebellion, taking approximately thirty percent of the population north to establish a new society based on different principles." "Did it work?" "Depends on your definition of success. The White Republic survived and eventually evolved into the Federation, which is now stronger than the Empire. But it's also more chaotic, more divided, and arguably less stable. Albert's ideals of equality were gradually corrupted by practical necessities until the Federation became just another power structure with different aesthetics." Mael found that unsurprising. Ideals always got corrupted by reality. People who claimed otherwise were either naive or lying. The history lesson continued through the Great Titan incident in year six hundred ninety-three, when a tyrant named Azazel sacrificed forty percent of the Empire's population to the volcano to trigger an eruption, then consumed the resulting milk to become the first Titan since Adam. Azazel had ruled through terror for eight years before being overthrown by a coalition of aristocrats and church leaders who managed to poison his milk supply. "That's why the law exists," Corvus said. "Once a king reaches Titan level, they must divide into exactly three hundred children. No exceptions. The law was written in Azazel's blood, and every king since has followed it." "What if a king refuses?" "Then the church and aristocracy are legally obligated to kill him before he becomes too powerful to stop. It's never happened because every king understands the alternative is death rather than division." The lesson moved on to the Great War between the Empire, Federation, and Theology Kingdom. Decades of conflict over river access and territorial claims that eventually ended with the Empire maintaining control of the Center but losing significant territory to the Federation. The Theology Kingdom had declared neutrality halfway through and used the opportunity to consolidate power while everyone else exhausted themselves fighting. Corvus was still talking when Mael realized four hours had passed. His mind was saturated with dates, names, and historical events that all blurred together into a continuous narrative of conquest, division, and political maneuvering. The pattern was consistent: power concentrated, power divided, power concentrated again. The cycle repeated endlessly with different actors playing the same roles. Then Corvus put away the history documents and pulled out a wooden practice sword. Great. Physical labor. "Combat training," he said. Mael stared at him. "Now?" "The schedule allows no breaks between subjects. You need to develop physical capability alongside intellectual knowledge. A king unable to fight is a king unable to command respect from the military aristocracy." Mael took the practice sword. It was heavier than he expected, making sense given that he was still Small-sized and the sword was proportioned for a Normal. Corvus produced a second sword and moved to the center of the study, which had apparently been cleared of furniture specifically for this purpose. "Basic stance first," Corvus said. He demonstrated a position with feet shoulder-width apart and sword held at a forty-five degree angle. "Balance is more important than strength at your size. You won't overpower opponents, so you need to outmaneuver them." Mael copied the stance. His arms already ached from holding the sword up. "Now, the fundamental cuts. Vertical, horizontal, and diagonal. Each cut should flow from your core, not just your arms. Watch." Corvus demonstrated a series of cuts that looked simple but required coordinating his entire body. Mael tried to replicate them. The sword wobbled in his grip, and his cuts were clumsy and uncontrolled. "Again," Corvus said. Mael repeated the cuts. They were slightly better but still terrible. "Again." The training continued for another two hours. Corvus drilled him on basic cuts, blocks, and footwork until Mael's arms felt like they would fall off. The sword grew heavier with each repetition, and his stance kept collapsing because his legs couldn't maintain the position. "Adequate for a first session," Corvus finally said. "We'll continue tomorrow at the same time. You're dismissed." Mael dropped the sword and walked out of the study. His entire body hurt in ways he hadn't experienced before. The intellectual lessons had been exhausting mentally, but the physical training was something else entirely. He made his way to his room and collapsed on the bed. Tomorrow would be the same schedule. And the day after that. And every day for the next five years. He closed his eyes and tried not to think about how much he already wanted to quit. --- A week passed in the same pattern. Geopolitics, history, combat training, then additional lessons in economics, religious studies, and military strategy. Corvus maintained the brutal pace without any acknowledgment that Mael was eight years old and barely tall enough to reach a normal Milkman's waist. By the seventh day, Mael had adjusted enough that he no longer collapsed immediately after training. He still felt like a squeezed lemon by evening, but at least he could walk to dinner without wanting to die. Small victories. The dining room in Marquis Helvor's mansion was modest compared to what Mael imagined a duke's estate would have, but it was still larger than necessary for the household. The table could seat twenty, though tonight only four places were set. Marquis Helvor sat at the head of the table. He was a Large-level Milkman, approximately seven meters tall, requiring him to use specially reinforced furniture. His cheese-flesh had the pale yellow color that came from a diet heavy in processed milk rather than fresh river milk. He wore formal attire in dark blue with silver threading, which Mael had learned was the traditional color scheme for the Helvor family. To the Marquis's right sat his adopted daughter, Celise. She was a Normal-sized Milkman who had chosen female gender presentation, which was common enough that nobody commented on it. Mael had been told she was technically his sister now, though he'd never acknowledged that relationship and didn't plan to start. She wore a simple dress in lighter blue and spent most of dinner looking bored. Mael sat across from Celise. The fourth place setting remained empty because the Marquis's wife had died three years ago and he hadn't remarried or divided to create new children. Servants brought out the first course: fresh milk in crystal glasses, slightly chilled. Mael drank his portion slowly, savoring the taste. The milk came from the Masuhati's northern tributaries, indicating high quality but not quite as good as what the royal family consumed directly from the Center. "I've been following the political news," Marquis Helvor said. He had a deep voice that carried authority despite his relatively minor noble rank. "The Lord Party is making moves again. Duke Saraven proposed new legislation that would allow aristocrats to establish private settlements along the Aviatap and Aviapas rivers." Mael looked up from his milk. Those were the two small rivers in the south-north-south territory. Allowing private settlements there would give the Lord Party a stronger foothold in that region. "Did it pass?" Mael asked. "Not yet. The Civilian Party is opposing it on the grounds that private settlements would create aristocratic enclaves beyond the reach of imperial law. They're probably right, but that's exactly why the Lord Party wants it." Celise picked at her food. "Politics is boring. Can we talk about something else?" She wasn't wrong, but whining about it was pointless. "No," the Marquis said. "Mael needs to understand these matters if he's going to compete for the throne. Pay attention. You might learn something useful." Celise rolled her eyes but stayed quiet. The Marquis continued. "There's also news from the Federation. The Green Republic has been making aggressive trade demands, claiming that the Empire's tariffs on northern goods violate the post-war treaties. Saint Palatias is mediating, but the situation is tense." "What do they want?" Mael asked. "Reduced tariffs and direct access to Masuhati tributaries for their merchants. The Empire obviously can't allow that because it would set a precedent for other republics to demand the same thing. But refusing might trigger trade sanctions, which would hurt our economy." Mael thought about that. The Federation was testing boundaries, seeing how far they could push before the Empire pushed back. It was the same pattern Corvus had described in the history lessons: constant probing for weakness, constant negotiation over terms that everyone knew were temporary. "What about new technologies?" Mael asked. "Corvus mentioned that steel weapons are becoming more common." "They are, but the real development is in metallurgy techniques. The Yellow Republic has been experimenting with alloy compositions that make steel lighter and stronger. If they perfect the process, they'll have a significant military advantage. The Pouse County is trying to acquire the knowledge through espionage, but so far without success." The conversation continued through the main course. The Marquis discussed grain production in the southern provinces, water management issues in the eastern territories, and ongoing disputes between aristocratic families over tributary rights. Mael listened carefully, asking questions when something seemed important. Celise eventually gave up pretending to pay attention and just ate her food in silence. Dessert arrived: sweetened milk that had been partially condensed into a thick cream. Mael was working through his portion when Varos entered the dining room. The head servant approached the table and bowed to the Marquis. "Forgive the interruption, my lord. A message has arrived for Prince Mael." The Marquis gestured for him to continue. Varos turned to Mael. "You have been invited to attend a dinner party hosted by Prince Baelin three days from now. The invitation indicates that several other princes and aristocrats will be in attendance. A formal response is requested by tomorrow morning." Mael set down his spoon. Prince Baelin. He didn't recognize the name, which meant Baelin was probably one of the princes he hadn't met yet. A dinner party with multiple princes and aristocrats meant networking, alliance-building, and political maneuvering. The first alliances were beginning to form. "I'll attend," Mael said. "Send confirmation in the morning." Varos bowed and left. The Marquis was still watching Mael with an expression that might have been either approval or calculation. Who knows? "Be careful," the Marquis said. "Dinner parties are where reputations are made and destroyed. The other princes will be evaluating you just as much as you're evaluating them." "I understand." "Do you? You're eight years old and you've been studying for a week. The other princes have had the same education, and some of them have been preparing longer. Don't assume you're the smartest person in the room just because you're clever." Mael met his eyes. "I won't." The Marquis held his gaze for a moment, then nodded. "Good. Varos will arrange appropriate attire. Make sure you represent this household well." As if Mael cared about representing the household, or the Marquis. Dinner ended shortly after. Mael returned to his room and lay on the bed, staring at the ceiling. Three days until the dinner party. Three days to prepare for his first real interaction with the other princes. He needed to figure out what Prince Baelin wanted, who else would be attending, and what alliances were already forming. The dinner party would reveal the early power structures among the three hundred princes. Some would be forming blocs based on shared interests. Others would be positioning themselves as independent actors. A few would probably be making mistakes that would eliminate them from serious consideration. Mael needed to avoid being one of the mistakes while also not committing too strongly to any alliance yet. It was too early to know which princes would actually matter in five years. But he had to start somewhere. Three days.