Julius

Flattery was naturally pleasant to hear, but Nelisa still hadn't answered his question.

Klein was in no hurry to press her.

Nelisa was a person of tact; since she had started the topic, she wouldn't leave it hanging halfway.

Sure enough, Nelisa set down her teacup and approached the matter from a different angle.

“Mr. Klein, have you ever heard the name Diancie Julius?”

Klein shook his head. “The first time I heard that name was in the letter you sent.”

He answered honestly.

Before coming to the royal capital, he had done some homework, flipping through a few old volumes regarding the imperial royal lineage, but those records mostly only documented titles and successions. Information on living members of the royal family was pitifully scarce.

As for the name Diancie, it hadn't even appeared in those records.

Nelisa turned her gaze toward Ophelia.

Ophelia also shook her head, her tone blunt. “I don't know her.”

Nelisa was not surprised by this answer.

“It's only normal that the two of you wouldn't know,” she said, straightening her posture. Her voice dropped slightly, but her pace remained steady. “Aside from the eldest prince, the heir apparent, the younger generation of the Julius royal family doesn't make much of a public appearance.”

As Klein listened, his fingers unconsciously rotated the teacup on the table. The ceramic was slightly cool, and the tea leaf floating on the surface had long since sunk to the bottom.

“The King is, intentionally or unintentionally, controlling the exposure of these young people to the public. No investitures, no participation in public ceremonies—even their names rarely appear in the gazettes. The Silver Scale Chamber of Commerce’s presence in the interior was never large to begin with, and our understanding of these people, to be honest—” She gave a self-deprecating laugh. “—is worse than that of the children selling newspapers on the streets of the royal capital.”

“Hidden?” Klein caught a keyword.

Nelisa neither denied nor confirmed it. Such speculation regarding the royal family could lead to trouble if spoken aloud; all three people present understood that.

From outside the window came the sound of a carriage rolling over the flagstone path, a muffled noise that felt as if it were separated by an unreal barrier. The light in the guest hall dimmed for a moment as a cloud passed, then brightened again.

She shifted the topic and looked at Ophelia.

This pause lasted longer than any before it. It was long enough that Ophelia tilted her head slightly, looking back with an expression that said, 'If you have something to say, just say it.'

Nelisa spoke.

“The person I mentioned in the letter, Her Highness Diancie Julius—she is a great admirer of yours, Ms. Ophelia.”

The room fell silent for two seconds.

Klein turned to look at Ophelia.

Ophelia’s expression didn't change, but her brow furrowed slightly in a look of 'what are you talking about' confusion.

“Admirer?” she repeated, her tone flat.

“Yes,” Nelisa nodded. “And it's not just a casual level of admiration. According to my sources, Her Highness has mentioned your name more than once in private. She has collected all the battle reports from your time fighting on the west coast—including the ones that weren't made public. She even had someone bring back a discarded scabbard you used on the front lines.”

Klein’s eyebrows twitched.

Collecting battle reports was understandable, but bringing back a scabbard was a bit... much.

He instinctively glanced at Ophelia and found her expression shifting from confusion to a subtle blankness, like someone who never looked in a mirror suddenly being told they were actually quite good-looking.

“...I don't remember losing a scabbard,” Ophelia said.

“It was likely equipment written off as damaged,” Nelisa said, taking a sip of tea. “Her Highness has her own channels.”

Klein turned this information over in his mind.

A royal princess who was a huge fan of Ophelia and had her own intelligence channels. Combined with the deal Nelisa was negotiating with the royal family—

He leaned back in his chair, tapping his fingers twice on the armrest.

“So, you want Ophelia to meet this princess.”

Nelisa set down her teacup and let out a long sigh.

She spread her hands in a 'there's nothing I can do' gesture, trying her best to look innocent—though she knew perfectly well that this act wouldn't work on the two people in front of her. Klein wouldn't buy it, and Ophelia certainly wouldn't.

“To be honest, the initiative in this matter is not in my hands.” Nelisa traced a circle along the rim of her cup. “When the negotiations between the chamber and the royal family reached the third round, Her Highness Diancie suddenly intervened. She somehow found out about what happened at Silver Scale Harbor—in great detail, in fact. So detailed that I suspect she might have people within my chamber.”

She paused, a wry smile on her face.

“Her Highness made it clear that she wanted to meet Ms. Ophelia through my channel, no matter what.”

Klein nodded; everything up to this point was within expectations.

Nelisa added another sentence: “And you as well, Mr. Klein.”

Klein was just about to bring the teacup to his lips when his movement paused.

“Me?”

He set the cup back on the table and blinked in confusion. “Isn't she Ophelia's fangirl—”

Before he could finish, the side of his right leg near Ophelia was pinched with precision.

It wasn't heavy, but it was clearly a warning.

Klein glanced sideways. Ophelia was facing Nelisa, sitting upright with a neutral expression as if she had done nothing. Only the unnatural red at the tips of her ears betrayed her.

She clearly found the term 'fangirl' embarrassing.

Klein tactfully swallowed the rest of his sentence and cleared his throat to rephrase. “I mean, Her Highness Diancie has admired Ophelia for a long time, so it's reasonable for her to want to meet. But why see me?”

Nelisa didn't answer immediately.

She took a sip of tea, her gaze sweeping back and forth between Klein and Ophelia, that measuring look appearing once more.

After a few seconds, she spoke, her tone carrying a hint of genuine helplessness. “I can't figure out the reason either. Her Highness’s exact words were 'invite them both.' She didn't explain, and I didn't dare press for details.”

“However... as Ophelia's husband, isn't it normal for her admirer to invite you as well?”

Was it really normal?

Klein actually felt his situation was a bit dangerous—just kidding, an imperial princess wouldn't actually do anything to him over such things, right?

Probably?

“How much do you know about this Highness?” Klein looked back at Nelisa.

Nelisa thought for a moment, her phrasing cautious. “Young, has her own circle of followers, and while she isn't on the periphery of the royal family, she isn't exactly at the core either. As for her personality...”

She weighed her words.

“How should I put it? She might not be like the royal princess you're imagining.”

“What do you mean?”

“My people have had a few contacts with her attendants, and the evaluation they gave was—” Nelisa tapped her finger twice on the table. “—enthusiastic, stubborn, and one more thing: she can't keep a secret.”

Klein and Ophelia exchanged a look.

Enthusiastic, stubborn, and can't keep a secret. When those three terms were put together, the image became very vivid—an idealist, and likely one who wasn't easy to fool or brush off.

“Is the meeting time set?” Ophelia asked directly.

“The day after tomorrow,” Nelisa said. “The location is the tea garden outside the palace walls. It won't follow formal audience procedures; you'll be there as private guests. Her Highness set it herself—she said formal occasions make her feel too stifled.”

A royal princess who found formal occasions 'stifling.'

The image of the princess in Klein’s mind, which hadn't quite formed yet, became a bit clearer. He suddenly felt that the meeting the day after tomorrow might be more interesting than he had anticipated.

He turned to look at Ophelia.

Ophelia’s expression was the same as ever—neither rejecting nor enthusiastic, like a knight evaluating a route after receiving a mission. But having been with her for so long, Klein could see the subtle awkwardness in her eyes.

When it came to being admired by a specific person, Ophelia truly didn't know how to respond.

She was skilled with swords and hunting sea monsters, but being 'an idol to a princess' was clearly outside her combat experience.

Klein couldn't help himself; the corner of his mouth twitched.

Ophelia caught it out of the corner of her eye, her gaze saying, 'Try laughing again.'

He quickly wiped the expression from his face and turned back to Nelisa.

“Fine,” Klein said. “We'll go to the meeting the day after tomorrow. But one thing must be made clear first.”

Nelisa sat up a little straighter.

“If Her Highness just wants to meet Ophelia and chat, we will cooperate.” Klein swirled his teacup, his tone still casual, but his gaze sharpened for an instant over the rim of the cup. That momentary pause gave weight to his next words. “But if she—or you—intends to use this meeting to tie us into some larger scheme, then I'm afraid we must refuse.”

Nelisa stared at him for two seconds, then smiled.

There was appreciation in that smile, and a bit of 'as expected' realization.

“Rest assured, Mr. Klein.” She stood up and adjusted her cuffs. “I invited the two of you for a collaboration, not a scheme. On that point, the debt from Silver Scale Harbor hasn't been fully repaid yet; I, Nelisa, am not so foolish as to do that.”

She gave a slight bow to the two of them and turned toward the door.

Halfway there, she stopped and looked back. “The two of you are exhausted from the journey, so please rest early. If you wish to wander outside, you can charge the expenses to the Silver Scale Chamber of Commerce.”

After the door closed, only Klein and Ophelia remained in the room.

The tea had gone cold. The afternoon sunlight slanted in through the gaps in the window frame, drawing a row of long, thin shadows on the wooden floor. The air carried a faint scent of wood wax, and it was a bit too quiet.

Klein stretched, leaned back against his chair, and tilted his head to look at Ophelia.

“Are you nervous?”

Ophelia looked at him. “Why would I be nervous?”

“Think about it. A princess is collecting your scabbards. When we meet the day after tomorrow, she might even ask for your autograph.”

As soon as the words left his mouth, the soft flesh at his waist was pinched with precision.

Klein winced, but he didn't dodge.

He laughed and caught the hand that was making mischief, holding it in his palm. Ophelia’s fingers were long and strong, with thin calluses on the knuckles—all on her right hand, left by her sword.

“That hurt,” he said, though his tone didn't sound like he was in pain at all.

Ophelia didn't pull her hand away, but she didn't look at him either, her golden eyes fixed on the cold tea on the table.