A/N: I love this chapter simply for the introductions made in it. I hope you all enjoy this. Thank you so much for sticking with us so far. There is so much planned for this fic...I just have to write it lol. Please let me know what you think.

Chapter 7: An Honour to Have Enemies

The escort that Kirigan sends is Nadia and Marie.

The two of them greet Hermione as if she is an old friend. She listens as they lead the way to the dining hall. They tell her stories of some of the people here. It's mindless gossip but it sinks into her. If she closes her eyes, she could almost picture being back in her dorm, listening to Lavender and Parvati.

She smiles as they inform her of things she should know about the place. They tell her the fastest route to the dining hall and where the training yard is. She now knows what hours the library and the banya are available. The more they talk, the more they reveal, even if it's about trivial things such as how late tea or snacks can be requested from the kitchen.

They sit her between them at the dinner table. She can feel the eyes on her, but she's long been used to it. What surprises her is that there is a dish brought out directly to her.

"It's to celebrate your victory with the King," Nadia says.

"The General likes us to eat like common folk, to remember where we came from," Marie adds. While she can understand the thought behind it, she does not agree. She has spent too long, scrounging for food, to not appreciate good food when it is available.

Someone appears in front of her, pulling her plate back towards them. It is only Marie's next words that keep her from cursing the man.

"Oh! You have an otkazat'sya taster! They're normally reserved for the Royal Family."

Hermione watches as the man in front of her takes a bite of her food. She holds herself back from reacting. She's far too tempted to steal her plate back. She doesn't need a taste tester. It is unlikely that the poisons she knows of are capable of being made here. Though, she is well aware of the fact that there may be some she doesn't know. She will have to find a way to test her own food. If only to ensure she can keep all of it.

"Delicious. Nice caramelization on the potato and well-balanced spices for the quail," the man says. "You'll be happy with the meal. If, you know, I survive."

She can't stop the snort at the dark humour. He seems pleased he nearly made her laugh. "Are you...did you choose this position?" she asks.

"Are you kidding? This is a plum gig. I was so happy when the last taster died." He seems to realize his words and he pulls back. "Sorry."

"It's fine. I'm only sorry to hear that the meals won't always be as nice as this. For both our sakes," she says. "What is your name?" He looks a little stunned that she asks and she can feel some of the eyes around her on them. She ignores it.

"Olaf."

She nods. "Well, thank you for taking this risk to protect me. I'll try not to ask for tea or snacks at odd hours so you can keep a regular schedule."

"Of course," he says, bowing his head slightly. "I am honoured to serve you."

Hermione's eyes widen. This is getting out of hand. "Thank you," she says again. "I will see if it is as good as you say." She pulls her plate back to her.

She takes a bite. It is good, there's no doubt about that, but it misses that feeling of home.

"News from the Fjerdan front," Ivan calls out as he stands from his position at a table. "In the First Army, many casualties in the 18th, 27th and 36th battalions. Also among the dead, six Healers, four Inferni and three Heartrenders." Murmurs break out and Hermione's heart already hurts at the idea of more death. He looks over at her and meets her eyes. "The Fjerdans will be no match against a unified Ravka now that we have the Sun Summoner." He nods towards her.

Hermione smiles back. "I will train hard and do my best," she calls back out to him. Some of the others in the room cheer. She glances around, making note of the faces who do not look impressed or at all happy. She doesn't know their names, but she makes a note of their positions at the table.


She is led the next day to combat training by Nadia and Marie.

"Sun Summoner!" the man in the centre of all the Grisha calls out as she arrives. "All of Ravka's foes want to kill you before you can destroy the Fold. It's a great honour to have so many enemies." She must be filled with honour by now if that's the case. Hermione has had enemies before even knowing the truth about the things she could do. She had enemies since birth just for being what she was.

"He's always like this," Nadia says quietly.

"I am used to enemies," she tells the man.

He smiles at that. "You must learn to defend yourself fast. Do you know how to fight?" Hermione knows how to fight, but with magic, not fists.

"No," she says. She hears some of the Grisha around her snicker. "But I look forward to learning."

"Good," he says with a nod. "It is an intelligent warrior who knows their faults and is willing to learn to overcome them."

Botkin takes her aside and tests her. He wants to know her limitations. Hermione is pretty sure she surprises him and those watching. She has to remind herself that the people here are not out to hurt her. They are trying to see what she is capable of. That does not stop her from slipping into her instincts. She dodges the things that are thrown at her and when she runs, she just thinks about running through the forest.

When she finally stops, it takes her a moment to actually remember where she is. The man leading the training steps up to her. "You are not wholly untrained."

"I did say I was used to enemies," she says back.

"Indeed. We will continue to work on your stamina and combat training. You will come here every morning. With a concentration on making use of your environment and turning anything into a weapon. You cannot rely on others to protect you so I will teach you to guard your own life."

She will use everything she can to ensure she survives. "Thank you."

He nods. "You start now with Group K." He motions to one of the small groups to the left. "Join them."


Training is exhausting. She's not even using her powers but working on her situational awareness somehow leaves her feeling more tired than she expected. Thankfully, the rest of her day is not spent on more training. She uses her free rein to explore the library of the Grand Palace since she has been informed that the materials the Librarian of the Little Palace is arranging for her are not yet ready.

Kirigan has promised her a tutor but he is drawn into meetings about the ongoing battle that she does not yet have access to. She needs to build on her foundation of knowledge about this place and its history before she can fully understand what is being discussed and the ramifications of plans made. There are so many questions about this world that she has and she will find her own answers if she can.

Being in the library feels like being home. They all have the same sense to them. The shelves lined with books, the silence that is filled with soft conversation and the sound of pages turning. Hermione has always felt safe in a library.

She takes her time browsing through the stacks. There is a guide to the categories of the sections, but Hermione has always enjoyed taking her time to learn it herself. She finds a copy of the book she had been looking through when the Heartrender found her. Then she goes looking for more. Anything on the history of Ravka as well as Grisha themselves, particularly the laws pertaining to them. She needs to know what their rights are, now her rights, and just what exactly Kirigan is trying to improve. She looks for information on how the Lantsov family came into power, what they have accomplished in the past and what exactly they seem to be focusing their power around now.

Hermione hears the person trying to come up behind the stacks before they make their appearance known.

"A wide selection," the voice says as they step into view. Hermione already has made note of the entrances and exits. Her wand is secured against her arm. It is only the fact that they did not surprise her that keeps her from reacting to the man. She recognizes him. He was the one next to the king during her presentation. The one who asked about her religious beliefs. He seems larger in size now that he is closer to her and oddly pale, as though he has not stepped out into the sun for months.

"It is," she says. "I like to keep myself informed." There's something about the man that sets her on edge. This isn't like when she was facing off against the General before their agreement. This is like facing a snake.

"A worthy task," he says softly. "To seek enlightenment."

"Indeed." She doesn't mean to be short, but the man reminds her of someone. She can't put her finger on it. It is nothing good though.

"I am the King's spiritual advisor," he introduces himself. "I have been given the task of tutoring you in the lives of the saints."

"I remember," she says. She still has to talk to Kirigan about that. She does not appreciate being fodder. "Perhaps you can offer me some reading material to get myself started on the topic."

"I would be glad to," he says. He leads the way to another row of shelves before pulling a book down. "This gives an account of each of the saints and what they accomplished in their lives and deaths."

"You say that as though their deaths are something to be celebrated."

"Death comes for us all, Ms. Grankova. The Saints are to be praised because of their deeds in their lives but also in their deaths. Their suffering and sacrifices changed our world."

"Suffering? Sacrifice?" She hates that word. It reminds her of Harry, walking away from them to go into the forest alone. It reminds her of Hagrid, carrying his body back.

He nods, almost in reverence. "For the betterment of our society."

She knows who he reminds her of now. He is as fanatical as Umbridge was of the Ministry, but his talk of sacrifices for the greater good reeks of Dumbledore. She holds back on everything she wants to say. Instead, she takes the book from him.

"May I borrow this?" she asks.

"Books are not supposed to leave the library," he says. "But an exception can be made for the Sun Summoner." She is beginning to understand why Harry hated the moniker of Boy-Who-Lived. It is exhausting to hear it repeated. Especially when she knows he is not really doing her a favour as he'd like her to believe. She has had books brought to her before.

"Thank you. I will return them in pristine condition."

"And perhaps we may speak again on the Saints when you have finished."

"Certainly."

"There you are!"

Hermione turns at the new voice, unsure to whom they are speaking. An older woman, not much taller than Hermione, is walking towards them.

"You are late," she says, looking at Hermione.

"To what?" Hermione asks.

"Our tutoring session." The woman reminds her of an older Molly Weasley, back when she was more welcoming. She looks past Hermione at the man standing next to her. "Excuse us, Apparat. Lovely to see you, good day!"

She does not wait for his response before she ushers Hermione out of the library, arms full of books.

"I apologize, dear," the woman says, "but that man is not to be trusted."

"I can make that judgement on my own," Hermione replies. The woman stops and looks at her. She gives her a slow, kind smile.

"Of course. Allow me to introduce myself. I am Sofie."

"It's a pleasure to meet you," Hermione says. She has met so many people, she is unsure how she's going to keep track of them. This one should be easy though. The woman has a kind face.

"And you, Ms. Grankova. General Kirigan has tasked me with getting you up to speed on matters of culture, etiquette, and history that are not easily found in books. I'm told you are a great traveller and have not been in Ravka long."

"That is indeed the case." Hermione glances at the books in her hands. "I expect that I will be quite busy."

"For some time," the woman smiles at her again. "Not to worry. I am certain you'll catch up quickly."

"I will do my best." It is all she can offer. She needs to make a proper schedule to organize her time.

"Of course, dear. Let's get started."


Despite Sofie's friendly appearance, she is a taskmaster. Hermione loves it. She teaches like McGonagall does, expecting the best and explaining it well. The longer she listens to the woman, the more Hermione likes her. Her explanations of etiquette mixed in with court gossip to illustrate her points are hilariously sharp and relevant. There is at least one reason to be grateful for Hermione's privileged position; she won't be kicked out of anywhere for cackling too loud at Sofie's droll observations.

"And that my dear, while not the original intention I am sure, is an effective reminder not to turn your back on the king or queen until you have retreated no less than three paces from their presence. It would have saved poor Countess Markoff a very great deal of embarrassment had she remembered. At least the royal family might have been afforded the option of pretending they had seen nothing rather than dear Queen Tatiana rallying admirably and not batting a lash. Though with the time our Genya has put into her, it's a wonder the queen can lubricate her own eyeballs by blinking."

Hermione snorts. She might actually have to forgive Kirigan for the Apparat issue since he brought her Sofie. The woman is giving her so much useful information.

"Are you telling the Markoff tale again?"

The two of them look up to see General Kirigan standing in the doorway. His arms are crossed but he looks a little amused at the sight of them.

"Of course," Sofie says. "She needs to know what she's getting into."

He sighs, but it's the same fond, exasperated sigh that she's heard from McGonagall every time she and her boys were brought in front of the woman. "And what other stories have you told her?"

"Nothing of your youth," the woman teases.

"Saints forbid," he says back.

"There, you see, Maya? A virtuous man who knows the value of time spent on his knees is a rare find and must be snapped up quickly. It's a pity that our General toils and prays in vain."

Hermione looks at him, wild-eyed but unable to look away from his reaction.

Kirigan's eyes tighten, looking as though he is trying to stop them from crinkling, and he takes a slow breath before his voice comes again, somewhat strained but perfectly even, Hermione swears she hears Sofie utter a very quiet "damn".

"I came to see how you were making progress with your new tutor. I'm sorry I was unable to make the time to introduce you personally."

"That's alright," Hermione says slowly, her eyes still on him. "Sofie found me in the library."

"Where the Apparat was making himself known," Sofie injects.

"Imagine that," Hermione says, raising her eyebrows at Kirigan. "He is very interested in my religious education."

"He's an important figure at court and his influence regarding our new sun saint cannot be ignored. Better to rein him in now with the illusion of influence."

"I understand that, but this goes back to our last conversation on communication. We need to agree on this before such promises are made to others."

He nods. "I am aware. Perhaps we might explore the subject together more thoroughly, Ms. Grankova. That is if you are quite finished here."

Hermione looks over at Sofie who is watching them both.

"Go!" Sofie motions her to leave with a wave of her fingers. "We will continue at the same time tomorrow, Maya."

Hermione smiles at the woman. "I look forward to it." She picks up her books before she heads towards Kirigan. He leads her out of the room. "Thank you," she says. "For Sofie. She is...something else."

"That is one way to describe her," Kirigan says. "I thought you might appreciate a woman of her calibre."

"I do," Hermione nods. "I can only hope I am nearly half as formidable when I reach that age."

"That is a long wait. I dare say you will have sufficient time to acquire such abilities, though I would argue that you are already more than formidable."

"Thank you," it was a kind compliment and an unexpected one. "Though, not as long as I imagine it is for some Grisha." She does not say anything further as they are still in public.

"Perhaps you will be surprised, Ms. Grankova, with what you find now in your position."

"I have no doubt that the surprises will continue, General." Hermione knows well enough how things just keep happening. There is no true end, or at least, it doesn't feel like there is.


The Grisha they pass watch them. Hermione feels herself straightening under their gaze almost subconsciously. It is a miracle she doesn't point her chin up haughtily. She's used to stares, but the gazes that are lined with gossip always set her on edge. She is far too used to malicious intent from them. Any time Hermione has attempted to find herself in a position of success, someone tries to ruin it. It has happened again and again. It's not surprising that she's expecting some now.

No one says a word and it feels like a relief when they finally reach his war room. Awaiting them outside are Ivan and Fedyor. They are talking quietly to one another and she can see a small smile on Ivan's face. At least until they see her and the General. They straighten immediately.

She smiles automatically at the two of them. Fedyor grins at them both whereas Ivan only nods.

"Inside," Kirigan says as he opens the door. He walks in first. Ivan moves next and then Fedyor motions for her to enter next. As soon as the door closes, the General continues. "We need to prepare for what's next."

"Hold on," Hermione says. She draws her wand from where it is hidden. Ivan knows of her power and Fedyor knows she is not Maya Grankova. She waves a short, complicated pattern that settles around the room. A ward and warning. "It will keep others from listening in," she says as they watch her curiously.

"A useful skill," Fedyor says. "What else are you capable of?"

She ignores the question and turns to the General. "Exactly how many people are aware of who I am? I want names."

"Ms. Granger, those who are informed are the ones that are necessary in order to keep our plan in place."

"That doesn't answer my question. Who knows exactly?"

"The men in this room, Sofie and Genya. Ms. Safin came to me with her concerns after she saw your scars. I expect that you would be aware of the necessity of these things."

"I am. However, we have an agreement that things that involve me, I need to be aware of."

"Ms. Granger," Ivan cuts in, glancing away from the General with a slight frown. "If I may, I believe that all of us are coming to terms with this...arrangement. You do have a right to know exactly who is aware of your true identity, just as we would welcome any information of what your magic can and cannot do. This would enable us to ensure you are well protected."

"What Ivan means is that it is not that we don't think you're capable of handling yourself, but we want to help bridge the gap between your abilities and our world," Fedyor adds.

She looks over at Kirigan. The man moves around his room before picking up some papers and going through them. It seems almost flippant. "What are you expecting to happen?"

"The worst," Kirigan says. He does not look at them but instead throws the papers he's holding back on the desk beside him.

Ivan looks as though he approves of the response. "We must prepare for it," he says. "I do not believe you are ignorant to the dangers your position holds."

"A believed saviour always has enemies," she says quietly.

"Precisely," Fedyor says with a soft smile. "I am told that your magic comes at a price, that you fainted with overexertion. Can you explain that? Is there a way for others to monitor, to know the signs of when you are close to that limit?"

She knows what he's doing. It is a distraction from the topic of enemies and the real danger she faces trying to help them. She'll allow it. "Magical exhaustion occurs when you deplete your magical core. It is...what helps fuel the magic. Think of it as energy levels. You run out of energy when you train for too long or have to run for a long period of time. It is replenished with sleep and food. However, like many areas of strength, it can be built up. It is not an easy thing as your core builds and forms during childhood, but it is not impossible."

"How would you train such a thing?" Ivan asks.

"By pushing the extent of your magic, some rituals and high magical arts...and meditation," she admits. She hates meditation. The act of silencing her own thoughts does not come easy to her.

"And the signs that you're reaching exhaustion?" Fedyor asks again.

"Same signs as regular exhaustion, except that it is far easier to push the limits of your magic until it is too late."

"How long does it take you to recover?" Fedyor asks. "Is there treatment for it?"

"What are the consequences of pushing your magic to an exhaustive state?" Ivan adds. It strikes her, at that moment, the differences between the men that show by the questions they ask. Both are concerned, but they each have their own way of showing it.

"Recovery depends on the severity of the exhaustion and if there are other factors in play such as a magical injury or core fracture, which you can compare to a traumatic spinal injury requiring a long convalescence and extended therapy to slowly regain function. If one is trying to recover from a curse, that may take longer. It depends on the purpose of the curse and how far it has advanced. There are potions that can aid in the recovery."

"Potions?"

"Yes, potions. They are another form of magic. Something more physical." Hermione opens the beaded bag at her side. She had yet to take it off, even with the clothes they had given her. It had everything she needed to survive within it. She pictures the item she needs and whispers an accio and a small bottle flies into her hand. "This is dittany. It's only the essence of it, but it helps seal wounds. I've used it to save a life before."

Ivan moves forward and slowly takes the bottle from her. He opens it before he pauses. "What are the effects if I smell this?"

"Nothing. It works with application and only with open wounds. Actually, I'm not sure of the effects on non-magicals. Perhaps you-"

Kirigan moves forward, knife in his hand. He cuts himself quickly before taking the bottle from Ivan.

"What are you doing?" Ivan demanded, moving forwards to him.

He simply looks up at us. "Testing a theory." He opens the bottle.

"You only need a drop!" Hermione says. Kirigan does not look at her but he does only apply a drop. The wound seals. Ivan hands him a cloth to clean the blood.

The implications are enormous. If potions can work on Grisha, what else can? Do they hold magic? If she gave them her wand, would they be able to cast?

"Moi soverennyi," Ivan's tone is hard. "A word with you in private?"

Fedyor moves towards Hermione. "Ms. Granger, have you seen the gardens? May I interest you in a tour? Perhaps we could speak more about this world you come from, hm?" He offers her his arm.

She glances at the other men in the room. This is not part of her plan. She wants answers. However, judging from the look on Ivan's face, the clench of his jaw and the blatant disregard on Kirigan, she knows she's unlikely to get them now. She takes his arm.

"Certainly."

[tbc]