The next morning, I stretched until my joints popped and let the yawn drag itself out. A new day. Finally, a new beginning.
The moment I stepped into the council room, four familiar faces were already waiting.
"GOOD MORNING, YOUR MAJESTY!"
The greeting echoed off the stone walls with such enthusiasm that I had to resist the urge to cover my ears. I studied them for a moment, then let out a small laugh.
"...You all seem unusually energetic today."
Lord Kelvin smiled, composed as always. "We have every reason to be, Your Majesty. Serving alongside our new king is an honor."
The others nodded in agreement. Well. I certainly hadn't expected that.
Still smiling, I took my seat at the head of the table. "Then let's begin today's council."
My gaze moved across the room. "I trust everyone remembers the assignments from our previous meeting."
"Yes, Your Majesty." Kelvin was already reaching for his papers. "The financial report has been prepared."
"The trade report is ready as well, Sire." Carl set his down beside it.
"And the defence assessment has been completed." Mathew, as usual, said little more than necessary.
All three had finished their work. Good. There was no reason to delay.
"Let's begin," I said, "with the finances."
Lord Kelvin rose and gave a respectful bow before unrolling his report.
"Your Majesty, after reviewing the kingdom's accounts, I believe temporary austerity measures can be implemented for the next six months without disrupting the administration or weakening the military."
He walked me through it. The Royal Household would bear the heaviest burden — palace projects, luxury purchases, ceremonial spending, nearly all of it suspended.
Senior ministers would take a fifteen percent cut to their salaries; administrative officials, a gentler eight, enough to keep the government's machinery turning without seizing it.
The military's monetary pay would also shrink by fifteen percent, though Kelvin was careful to note that food, lodging, equipment, and medical care for active soldiers would remain untouched, paid for directly by the Crown.
What little coin trickled down to the men themselves would shrink — but a larger share would now go straight to their families, along with the monthly grain that had always been theirs.
As for the nobility, he chose the safer path: not a direct cut to their purses, but a temporary rise in the Crown's share of collected taxes, ten to fifteen percent, paired with a quiet instruction that they rein in their own extravagance.
"If implemented," Kelvin said, "these measures should reduce the Crown's monthly expenditure by roughly eighteen to twenty percent."
He paused, and something in his voice sobered.
"But I must be honest with Your Majesty. This alone will not close the deficit. Until trade recovers, and domestic production lessens our dependence on imports as you've planned, the treasury will continue bleeding."
"Even so — these reforms should stretch our reserves from one month to nearly three. Enough time, I believe, for the kingdom to recover its footing."
Time. That was exactly what I wanted. Not a miracle — just time.
I let the silence sit for a moment before I looked around the table.
"You've all heard the proposal. This won't touch only the Crown. It will touch every noble in this kingdom — including everyone sitting in this room." I studied their faces. "I want your honest opinions. Not your polite ones."
Carl spoke first, blunt as ever. "Reforms like this always hurt people before they help numbers, Your Majesty. Half the nobility will scream before the ink is dry. But Valenford can't afford to wait for their approval. If we want the kingdom standing a year from now, someone has to bleed first, and it might as well be us."
Kelvin inclined his head in agreement. "I share Lord Carl's view, if not his phrasing. A hard season now, for firmer ground later."
I turned to Mathew.
"No objections, Your Majesty. So long as the army keeps functioning, I have no complaints." His eyes flicked briefly to Kelvin. "The arrangement for the soldiers is fair." Then, in the same flat, unhurried tone he used for everything: "We serve the kingdom before ourselves. If sacrifice is required, we'll endure it."
Finally, I looked to Rowan.
He smiled, easy and certain. "My answer hasn't changed, Your Majesty. I stand with you. No matter what."
There was nothing left to weigh.
"Very well." I turned back to Kelvin. "Prepare the final draft. Begin implementing immediately."
He bowed low. "At once, Your Majesty."
With the finances settled, I turned to Carl. "Now — the state of our trade."
He stood, unfolding a second, thicker document.
"The merchant fleet's reconstruction is progressing well, Your Majesty. Nearly half the damaged vessels are in their final repairs and should be seaworthy within days." He hesitated. "But ships alone won't restore trade. The armistice is signed, yet foreign merchants are slow to return. The war may be over — their confidence in our waters isn't."
"Then earn it back," I said. "Go on."
"I'd recommend trade envoys, sent to our allies and old trading partners. Let them announce, formally, that Valenford's ports are open again — that our waters are secure, and commerce can resume." He allowed himself the faintest smile. "In short, we remind the world we're open for business."
I nodded for him to continue.
"There's a second matter. Our own merchants have suffered as badly as the foreign ones. I'd suggest cutting port fees for the next six months, speeding up docking permissions, and simplifying customs for merchants we trust. The cheaper and easier it is to trade through us, the faster both sides come back."
Practical. I liked it.
"And last — if we want to recover quickly, we need to stop spreading ourselves thin. Valenford has always been known for its metalwork. Swords, shields, armor — that's still our strongest export, alongside timber, iron ore, and surplus grain. Until new industries take root, those should be where we put our weight, not scattered evenly across everything we make."
I turned it over in my mind.
Kelvin's reforms would slow the bleeding. Carl's would start the recovery. Both necessary — and neither one solved the real weakness at the heart of the kingdom.
Our dependence on imports.
"Rowan." I looked toward him. "Have the survey teams reported anything?"
"As it happens, Your Majesty — our first report came in yesterday."
"And?"
"It concerns the western region. A forest called Tula. The survey teams confirmed a medicinal herb growing there, one the nearby villages have used for generations to treat fevers and minor illness."
My attention sharpened.
"Medicinal herbs. Growing within our own borders." I let that settle. "Then why in the world are we importing them?"
Rowan sighed. "Because the villagers only gather from the forest's edges, Your Majesty. No one goes deeper."
"Why not?"
"There's a tribe living within Tula. Territorial, by all accounts — anyone who wanders too far in is treated as an intruder. There have been attempts to explore it before. All of them failed."
The chamber went still.
Tula.
I knew that name. I'd read it somewhere — and then it surfaced, all at once. Aldren Vaelis's journal. I'd read about Tula Forest in its pages, and if my memory served, that forest held far more than a few medicinal herbs.
"When can we leave?"
The question landed like a dropped plate. Four sets of eyes turned toward me.
"...Your Majesty?"
"We're going to Tula. This shouldn't wait."
Rowan's brow furrowed with real concern. "Sire — with respect — the tribe there has a reputation for attacking outsiders. It would be dangerous for you to travel there personally."
"I know."
"But if there's even a chance of peace with them, one of our largest import categories disappears overnight." I looked around the table, letting each of them see I meant it. "No kingdom becomes prosperous leaning on others forever. If Valenford has what it needs within its own borders, it's our responsibility to use it. So — we go. That's my final decision."
No one argued.
Rowan bowed his head. "As you command, Your Majesty."
"If this succeeds," Carl said slowly, "it would cut our dependence on imported medicine substantially."
"It will."
The herbs had given us a lead, and I had no intention of wasting it. Between them and Kelvin's reforms, we finally had something we'd been starving for.
Momentum.
But one question still hung over all of it — domestic production — and my mind kept circling back to the same place.
Tula wasn't valuable only for its herbs. If Aldren's journal was right, something else was hidden in that forest. Something that might matter to Valenford far more than fevers and medicine ever could.
"...Your Majesty?"
I blinked. Lord Carl was watching me, and so, I realized, was everyone else at the table.
"Did I space out?"
A few of them traded glances I pretended not to notice. I cleared my throat.
"Ah — forgive me. Please, continue, Lord Carl."
The council carried on until early afternoon, when the ministers filed out one by one, back to their duties. Eventually only Rowan and I remained.
I leaned back and let out a long breath. "Ugh. I'm exhausted. Running a kingdom is not easy."
Rowan allowed himself a small smile. "No, it isn't. But what you've accomplished in so short a time is commendable, Your Majesty." He hesitated. "...Are you truly planning to leave for Tula tomorrow?"
"Yes." No hesitation in my answer. "The herbs are one reason. But there's something else in that forest I need to see with my own eyes."
I lowered my voice, half to myself. "If what I think is there... actually is..."
I couldn't help but smile.
"It might just work."
"Sire?"
"Nothing." I waved it off and changed the subject. "What's left on my schedule today, Rowan?"
"Very little, Your Majesty. You've done more than enough for one day. Leave the rest to the council."
Good enough for me.
"Then I'll be in the library. You know where to find me if anything comes up."
I stood and started for the door.
"Sire?"
I stopped, glancing back. "Yes?"
Rowan hesitated, choosing his words. "May I ask you something?"
"Of course."
"You visit the library nearly every day. And you spend a great deal of that time with Prime Minister Aldren's journal." His eyes searched mine. "It's centuries old, Your Majesty. What could possibly be written in it that holds your attention so completely?"
A slow smile crossed my face.
"You'll find out when we reach Tula."
"Tula?"
I didn't answer. I only turned and kept walking.
The library welcomed me the way it always did — quiet, dust-warmed, empty but for the keeper dozing near the far shelves. The maids had long since grown used to my hours here; they came and went with food and water without a word, careful never to disturb the reading.
Which meant I had little reason to ever leave.
I settled into my usual seat by the window and opened Aldren Vaelis's journal once more, its spine soft with age under my fingers.
Tomorrow, I would finally learn whether the faith I'd placed in these old, brittle pages had been worth it.
I lost track of time reading. Before I even noticed, the library had gone completely quiet around me, and exhaustion finally caught up — I fell asleep right there in my chair, the old journal still open beside me.
⸻
Elisa
She came to his room to find him, but it was empty. She stood in the doorway for a moment, confused.
"He's not here?"
She considered it. "Maybe he's with Rowan... though Rowan should have left by now too."
A flicker of concern crossed her face. She turned to Syyra. "Do you know where Arin is?"
Syyra hesitated before answering. "Yes, Your Highness. I heard from the other maids that His Highness has been in the library since the afternoon. He even took his lunch there." She paused. "And he didn't come for dinner, either."
Elisa's frown deepened. "Then let's go to the library." She let out a small sigh. "How can someone get so absorbed in something that he forgets everyone else exists?"
"As you wish, Your Highness."
The two of them made their way to the library. When they opened the door, only darkness greeted them. Elisa scanned the room, searching — until Syyra caught a faint light glowing from the far side.
They followed it.
And there he was. Fast asleep.
Syyra studied him for a moment, her voice softening. "His Highness must be exhausted. Between the council meeting this morning and reading through the evening, it's no wonder he fell asleep here."
"Hmm..."
Elisa's gaze drifted across the table — and stopped on a piece of paper lying just beneath his hand. She leaned in closer to read it.
Two lines, written in careful script.
Žaev'Korr — Tomorrow's Objective.Væsh'Zula — Visiting Tula Forest.
Her eyes widened slightly.
"Tula Forest?" She glanced at him. "Arin's going to Tula Forest tomorrow? Why?"
She tried to read further, but his hand covered the rest of the page, and no amount of leaning would reveal anything more.
Syyra peered at the note as well. "Tula Forest... why would His Highness go there?"
Elisa was quiet for a moment.
"Beats me." She looked back at him, sleeping. "But if Arin's already decided, then so be it." She said it simply, without pressing further.
Syyra hesitated. "Madam... don't you want to know why?"
"There's no need." Elisa's voice was calm, certain. "I'll find out eventually." Her eyes lingered on him a moment longer. "And if Arin's going, he must have a reason."
For a while, she simply stood there, watching him sleep. Then she noticed he had nothing covering him, no blanket, no warmth against the cool night air of the library. Without a word, she slipped off the light shawl she'd been wearing and draped it gently over his shoulders.
"Let's go," she said softly. "We shouldn't disturb him."
"Yes, Madam."
The two of them slipped out quietly, and the door clicked shut behind them.
⸻
He slept on, peacefully, completely unaware that his little plan for tomorrow had already been discovered.
And with that, another day in Valenford came to a close.