The Royal Library of Solaris occupied the entire western wing of the palace's third floor, its vast collection arranged in concentric circles radiating outward from the central reading chamber. Morning light streamed through crystal skylights, illuminating ancient tomes and contemporary treatises alike with the same golden radiance.
Adam arrived early, selecting several theoretical texts that would support the conversation he anticipated with Princess Lirienne. In his previous life, he had discovered these particular volumes only years later, after coercing access to restricted sections. Now, through careful cultivation of his scholarly reputation, he could request them openly.
"Advanced material for one your age," Archivist Lorenar commented as she placed the final volume on his selected table. "These are typically reserved for third-circle mages or higher."
"Magister Valen approved my access," Adam replied smoothly. The half-truth came easily—his tutor had indeed granted him broader library privileges, though not specifically for these texts.
The elderly archivist nodded, though her eyes lingered on the spine of "Pre-Spectrum Theory and Practical Applications" with slight concern. "The Azurian princess will be joining you?"
"Yes, for a scholarly exchange regarding yesterday's demonstration."
Lorenar's expression softened slightly. "It's good to see such dedication in the younger generation. The theoretical foundations of magic are too often neglected in favor of flashier applications." She adjusted her spectacles. "I'll have refreshments sent up shortly."
As the archivist departed, Adam allowed himself a moment of satisfaction. In his original timeline, Lorenar had been among the first to view him with suspicion, restricting rather than facilitating his studies. This simple approval represented another successful divergence.
He began arranging the texts in logical order for the discussion, placing markers at relevant passages. This methodical preparation was interrupted by the soft sound of approaching footsteps—too light for an adult.
"Your reputation for early rising is well-deserved, Prince Adam."
Princess Lirienne stood at the entrance to the reading alcove, dressed in the formal blues and silvers of House Tidecaller. Her pale hair was arranged in the traditional Azurian scholarly style—a single braid wrapped with silver thread, signifying dedicated study.
Adam rose and bowed with practiced grace. "Princess Lirienne. I thought it best to prepare the relevant materials in advance."
"Efficient," she approved, approaching the table. Her eyes widened slightly as she scanned the book titles. "These are... advanced texts."
"As are your questions," Adam replied. "Basic primers wouldn't address the theoretical framework you're clearly capable of understanding."
The princess smiled—a genuine expression rather than the diplomatic mask she typically wore in public settings. "My tutors insist I focus on practical Azure manipulation rather than theoretical exploration. They say theory will come later, after mastery of fundamentals."
"A traditional approach," Adam acknowledged, gesturing for her to take a seat. "But one that can inhibit true innovation. Understanding why something works often leads to discovering how it might work differently."
Lirienne settled across from him, her gaze falling immediately on the centermost text. "'Origin Points: The Pre-Spectrum State,'" she read, running her finger lightly over the embossed title. "This is precisely what I wanted to discuss."
For the next hour, they engaged in theoretical discussion that would have challenged mages thrice their age. Adam carefully modulated his knowledge, revealing enough to impress without raising suspicion about the true depth of his understanding—knowledge that should have been impossible for a ten-year-old, regardless of talent.
"So you believe the seven aspects of the Spectrum aren't truly separate energies, but rather different expressions of a single fundamental force?" Lirienne asked, her quick mind synthesizing his carefully presented theory.
"Precisely," Adam confirmed. "The traditional view treats the Spectrum as seven distinct types of energy, but evidence suggests they're better understood as different vibrational states of a unified energy field."
He opened the oldest text, pointing to a diagram that depicted the Spectrum as a circle rather than the traditional linear arrangement. "Ancient practitioners understood this. Notice how the energies are shown flowing into each other rather than existing as separate categories."
Lirienne studied the diagram intensely. "This would explain why boundary manipulation is possible between adjacent energies. It's not about forcing incompatible forces to interact, but rather shifting the vibrational state along a continuum."
"Yes," Adam agreed, genuinely impressed by her insight. "And once you understand that fundamental unity, transformations that seem impossible under the traditional model become merely challenging rather than theoretical impossibilities."
"Like your transformation of Crimson energy to white light," she said, eyes brightening with understanding. "You're not creating something new, but rather returning it to its original, undifferentiated state."
Adam nodded, a strange satisfaction flowing through him at being truly understood. In his previous life, he had never bothered to explain his theories to others, viewing them merely as tools to be used or obstacles to be overcome. The collaborative exchange of ideas was... unexpectedly stimulating.
"The practical applications are significant," he continued. "Traditional boundaries between magical disciplines become permeable. Techniques reserved for those with specific affinities become accessible to anyone with sufficient understanding and control."
Lirienne's expression grew thoughtful. "That would fundamentally change the power structures of the Thirteen Kingdoms. Entire social hierarchies are built around affinity specialization."
"Indeed." Adam allowed himself a small smile. The princess was seeing the broader implications without prompting—another sign of her intelligence. "Which is perhaps why such theories remain... somewhat marginalized."
"Political rather than theoretical objections," Lirienne murmured, glancing toward where Archivist Lorenar worked at her distant desk. "Is that why these texts are restricted?"
"Knowledge that could disrupt established power structures is often carefully controlled," Adam replied, choosing his words deliberately. "Not necessarily suppressed, but... managed."
The princess studied him with unexpected intensity for one so young. "You speak as if you've given this considerable thought."
Adam realized he had allowed too much of his adult perspective to color his response—a small but potentially significant slip.
[CAUTION: PERCEPTION CHECK]
[SUBJECT HIGHLY OBSERVANT]
[ADJUST COMMUNICATION APPROACH]
"My circumstances have made me sensitive to such matters," he said carefully. "The Crossmark has subjected me to certain... expectations from birth. I've learned to recognize when limitations are imposed for control rather than protection."
It was a strategic truth—revealing enough personal perspective to seem genuine while redirecting the conversation away from his suspiciously advanced understanding.
Lirienne's expression softened slightly. "The Crossmark superstitions are prevalent even in Azuria. My tutors mentioned it when discussing your tournament performance. They seemed... concerned."
"And you?" Adam asked, genuinely curious about her perspective. "Are you concerned about studying theoretical magic with someone marked by supposed darkness?"
The princess considered him for a long moment, her young face surprisingly serious. "I believe in observation over superstition. Nothing in your demonstrations or our discussions suggests dangerous intent—quite the opposite. Your control is exceptional."
Before Adam could respond, the library doors opened to admit the Azurian ambassador and Queen Elara, their arrival clearly not coincidental.
"Your Highness," the ambassador called, approaching with measured steps. "I trust your scholarly exchange has been illuminating?"
Lirienne composed her features into the perfect diplomatic mask with practiced ease. "Indeed, Ambassador Vaerin. Prince Adam has generously shared insights that will benefit my studies for years to come."
Queen Elara smiled warmly. "I'm pleased to hear it. Educational exchange between our kingdoms has a long and valued tradition." She turned to Adam. "The Azurian delegation departs tomorrow morning. There will be a formal farewell dinner this evening."
The subtle message was clear—their private academic discussion was being redirected into official diplomatic channels. The adults were reclaiming control of the narrative.
"It has been an honor to share knowledge with Princess Lirienne," Adam said, matching the formal tone seamlessly. "House Morningstar values the scholarly traditions of Azuria."
As the princess was escorted from the library, she glanced back once, her diplomatic mask slipping just enough to reveal genuine intellectual curiosity still burning beneath. She raised her hand in a subtle scholar's salute—a gesture rarely used by modern mages but documented in the ancient texts they had been discussing.
Adam returned it without hesitation, sensing a connection that transcended their ages and political circumstances.
After they departed, Queen Elara lingered, her gaze falling on the assembled texts. "Advanced reading, Adam."
"The princess has sophisticated questions," he replied truthfully. "I wanted to provide accurate answers."
His mother studied him with thoughtful eyes. "The ambassador reports she spoke of nothing but your demonstration and theories all evening. It seems you've made quite an impression."
Adam inclined his head modestly. "She has an exceptional mind for one so young."
"As do you." Queen Elara's fingers traced the embossed cover of the oldest text. "These were your father's studies, once. Before the crown demanded his full attention."
This was new information. In his previous life, Adam had never known his father had pursued theoretical magical research. The king had always seemed entirely focused on practical governance and traditional power structures.
"I didn't realize Father had interest in theoretical magic," Adam said carefully.
"More than interest. Passion." A distant smile touched the queen's lips. "Tiberius was considered quite the radical theorist in his youth. His paper on unified spectrum theory disrupted quite a few academic circles. Some of the older magisters still haven't forgiven him."
Adam stared at his mother, genuinely surprised—a rare occurrence for one with memories of an entire previous lifetime. "Father wrote about unified spectrum theory?"
"Indeed. Before he was king, he was simply Tiberius of House Morningstar, a brilliant young theoretician who challenged conventional magical understanding." She smiled at Adam's expression. "You seem shocked."
"I... had no idea," Adam admitted truthfully. In his original timeline, he had known his father only as a stern ruler bound by tradition and suspicious of innovation—particularly when it came from his Crossmarked second son.
"The demands of kingship leave little time for theoretical exploration," Queen Elara said with a hint of sadness. "He set aside those pursuits after your grandfather's passing. But seeing your demonstration at the tournament..." She paused. "I haven't seen that particular light in his eyes for many years."
Adam processed this revelation carefully. Could this explain the king's unexpected support for his specialized education? Was it possible that, in this timeline, his father saw something of himself in Adam's theoretical approach?
"Do any of his writings remain in the collection?" Adam asked.
Queen Elara nodded. "In the restricted archives. Perhaps Archivist Lorenar could arrange access, with your father's permission." She touched his shoulder gently. "He might appreciate discussing these matters with you, though he rarely speaks of that chapter of his life."
The idea of intellectual discourse with the man who had regarded him with such wary disappointment in his previous life was... disorienting. Another significant divergence from the original timeline, opening possibilities Adam had never considered.
"I would like that," Adam said, surprising himself with the sincerity in his voice.
After his mother departed, Adam remained in the library, his mind working through the implications of this new information. If his father had once pursued similar theoretical paths, perhaps their relationship in this timeline could evolve beyond the cautious distance that had characterized it previously.
More importantly, it might provide legitimate access to knowledge he had obtained illicitly in his first life.
[NEW RELATIONSHIP AVENUE DETECTED: KING TIBERIUS]
[RECOMMENDED: CAUTIOUS INTELLECTUAL ENGAGEMENT]
[POTENTIAL KNOWLEDGE ACCESS: SIGNIFICANT]
As Adam carefully returned the texts to Archivist Lorenar, his thoughts shifted back to Princess Lirienne. Their intellectual exchange had been unexpectedly stimulating. In his previous life, he had viewed relationships solely as tools for manipulation or obstacles to be overcome. The genuine pleasure he had taken in their scholarly discussion was... unfamiliar.
Was this, too, merely strategic positioning? Or was he experiencing something beyond calculation?
The question lingered as he prepared for the evening's formal farewell dinner—another opportunity to advance his carefully cultivated public image and strengthen the political connections that would serve his long-term goals.
Whatever those goals might ultimately prove to be.
As he walked through the palace corridors toward his chambers, Adam considered the careful balance he was cultivating. His strategic approach to this second chance focused on gaining power through legitimate means rather than forbidden shortcuts, on building alliances rather than exploiting weaknesses.
Yet beneath these calculated decisions, something unexpected was developing—genuine intellectual curiosity, appreciation for meaningful exchange, interest in family connections he had previously dismissed as irrelevant.
Were these emerging preferences merely more sophisticated forms of manipulation? Or signs of fundamental change?
Adam had no answer yet. But as he caught sight of his reflection in a polished surface—the crimson eyes with their distinctive cross-shaped pupils so feared throughout history—he wondered if perhaps being "fixed" wasn't about erasing his nature entirely, but rather finding constructive application for qualities previously turned toward destruction.
Transformation rather than elimination. A principle of Crimson energy he understood well.
The theoretical question would need to wait. For now, practical matters required attention—a diplomatic farewell dinner, a scholarly correspondence to establish, an educational path to navigate.
Eight more lives to find his answer. Eight more chances to determine whether someone fundamentally broken could truly be fixed.