When you're accommodating someone, what do you usually do?
Of course, you take their well-being into account. You make sure they're comfortable. You make sure nothing is lacking.
That's basic professionalism. It's practically instinct at this point—especially in places where hospitality isn't just a virtue but a quiet social contract.
Corporate worlds run on that logic. So do empires.
And Solidaria was a kingdom that prided itself on hospitality and conformity. The kind where politeness wasn't optional, and stepping out of line was remembered forever.
"Hah," I thought. "I won't get treated like a pushover."
If there's one thing you should always do when dealing with people—especially nobles—it's your homework.
"In the Carlisle Empire," I began evenly, "the Tezca Duchy is especially known for—"
Julius Ainsworth listened.
That alone was strange.
I spoke as we walked, my tone measured, neutral.
I explained the duchy's role within the empire, its agricultural importance, its coastal trade, its position as a logistical artery during wartime.
I folded in references to Carlisle law, imperial customs, even comparisons to Croldanian court norms.
I had spent hours studying both Tezca culture and Solidaria's, cross-referencing them against Carlisle imperial etiquette. Not because I wanted to impress him.
Because this was my responsibility.
'But why is he even listening?' I wondered.
Most princes tolerated this sort of thing. Nodded politely. Zoned out.
Julius didn't.
He asked questions. Clarifying ones. He reacted at appropriate moments.
And with my [All-Seeing Eyes] quietly running in the background, I saw no flicker of deception. No hidden impatience. No irritation.
If anything, he looked… genuinely interested.
Which was unsettling.
Solidaria was practically subservient to the Canine Empire in the larger geopolitical web. A vassal kingdom with pride issues. So why was their crown prince listening this intently to a Carlisle duke's daughter?
Was he sincere?
Or was he dangerous?
We had drifted far—too far—from the main paths. The orchard stretched wide around us, trees heavy with fruit, the scent of earth and sweetness hanging in the warm air. The Tezca Duchy was absurdly spacious. It wasn't built like a fortress or a court estate.
It felt more like farmland.
Like a hacienda, if you'd ever seen one.
"Are you not hurt, Milady?" Julius asked suddenly.
I tilted my head slightly. "No. Not at all, Your Majesty."
He frowned.
The look on his face was… weirdly sincere. The kind that made you want to believe it. The kind that made you let your guard down.
Damn it.
This was exactly the kind of person I hated dealing with.
Not tyrants. Not schemers. Not openly arrogant nobles.
But people who treated Josephine as an actual person.
He must have noticed. We had walked a considerable distance, and I was still wearing heels.
"Please pay it no mind," I said calmly.
"I am merely here as a representative of the Carlisle Empire."
I bowed my head slightly.
"Even so—"
"Let's keep it professional, Your Majesty."
For a split second, displeasure flickered across his face.
Then it vanished.
The smile returned. Polite. Controlled.
We continued deeper into the plantation.
I reviewed my homework.
Julius Ainsworth. Crown Prince of the Solidaria Kingdom.
On paper.
In reality, he was the seventh prince—born from a commoner concubine. His rise wasn't political. It was personal. The current king had acknowledged him solely because of his swordsmanship.
Sixth tier.
Ridiculous, really.
That was the only reason he stood where he did.
His problem wasn't his skill.
It was his siblings.
He had no noble backing. No faction support. No safety net. His brothers and sisters despised him, and more than that, they wanted him dead. Every opportunity was an attempt.
Which explained everything.
Right now, he was acting as an envoy to Carlisle on Solidaria's behalf.
Which made this the perfect chance.
If something happened to him here, they could blame the Canine Empire. Or Carlisle. Or the Tezca Duchy.
Clean. Convenient.
Which meant—
They had entangled me in their mess.
And if I let him die here, they would pin the blame on me.
I clenched my jaw.
'Damn that Tezca Head. And damn the Emperor,' I cursed inwardly.
The Emperor probably knew. Of course he did. That was why he put me in this position. And since the Head of the Tezca Duchy—and the main family—were all in the capital right now…