Outside the palace walls, in the tea garden.
The carriage came to a steady halt at the end of the gravel road, its wheels crunching over the gaps between the bluestone bricks with a faint, crisp sound.
Klein stepped out first, reaching back to hold the carriage door open.
Ophelia stepped down onto the footboard, her landing so stable it was beyond reproach. The hem of her long dress swayed against the tops of her boots, settling without a single wrinkle.
The tea garden was elegantly arranged but not ostentatious.
Low walls enclosed a semi-open courtyard where several begonias were in full bloom, their deep-colored petals hanging heavy on the branches.
The morning dew hadn't completely evaporated yet, leaving a shimmering layer of moisture on the edges of the petals.
The air was a blend of tea aroma and damp earth—the kind of scent found only in a meticulously maintained garden.
Three or four attendants stood among the flowerbeds, spaced evenly apart. Their hands were clasped behind their backs, their posture upright—a disciplined, natural straightness, not a forced one.
And at the center of where the attendants stood was a round table, a set of white porcelain tea service, and a young girl.
Diancie Julius.
The Princess of the Empire sat in her chair with her back perfectly straight, a teacup held in her hand with the rim resting just against her lips.
Her posture was textbook, devoid of any etiquette flaws.
Except she wasn't actually drinking.
The surface of the tea was perfectly still, there was no steam on the rim of the cup, and her fingers were gripping the cup a bit too high—a classic grip for someone "posing to drink tea while their attention is entirely elsewhere."
Klein understood the situation with a single glance.
Although the Princess's gaze was lowered behind the rim of the cup, her line of sight had been fixed on the spot where the carriage stopped.
The walk from the carriage to the table was about twenty paces; Diancie's gaze followed them for at least fifteen of those.
In the final five paces, she finally remembered she was holding a cup and quickly took a sip.
She moved a bit too fast and choked slightly.
A nearby attendant offered a handkerchief, but Diancie waved it away, pressing the back of her hand to the corner of her mouth. She then sat up straight, her face quickly settling into an expression of, "I have been here for a long time and am perfectly composed."
This composure lasted for about three seconds.
Ophelia walked up and gave a slight bow, following the etiquette of a knight granted an audience with a princess.
Her movements were clean and efficient, the angle of her bow precise. As the wind blew, her golden hair was brushed behind her shoulder, the morning light flashing briefly on the tips of her hair before vanishing.
Diancie's "composure" crumbled instantly.
“Ophelia!”
She stood up faster than any of her attendants could react, the legs of her chair letting out a short scrape against the floor tiles.
The teacup was nearly left unbalanced on the table, the liquid inside sloshing violently.
Klein instinctively stepped in front of Ophelia to prevent any excessive physical contact from Diancie.
Diancie seemed to realize her blunder. She braked hard, her toes scuffing the tiles as she took a small half-step back, readjusting to a reasonable distance for a "princess receiving a subject."
“Ahem. You’ve arrived. Was the journey smooth?”
She tried to keep her tone steady, but her speaking speed was still a bit too fast, betraying her true emotions.
The end of her sentence even rose slightly—the inflection of a question, not a statement.
“Everything went smoothly, Your Highness,” Ophelia answered.
Diancie nodded, her gaze circling Ophelia’s face once, then twice.
It was a look Klein wasn't familiar with personally, but he could guess—it was the earnestness of a fan meeting their idol, trying to memorize every single detail.
Then Diancie’s gaze shifted to Klein, looking him up and down.
“Mr. Klein.”
“Your Highness.” He performed a standard noble’s bow.
Diancie stared at him for two seconds, her gaze landing on the high-neck undershirt pulled up to his chin, lingering there slightly longer than a polite glance warranted.
In this weather, wearing a high collar was indeed worth a second look.
Lady Ophelia’s husband seems a bit frail, wearing clothes like that in this season...
Thinking this, a hint of pity entered Diancie’s eyes.
Klein guessed what Diancie was thinking—she probably assumed he was sensitive to the cold, never suspecting any other reason.
This misunderstanding was actually the most ideal cover for him. He remained expressionless, saying nothing.
Ophelia’s gaze drifted over from the side, landing on his profile. It paused for a split second—not even a full second—before drifting away. Her fingers tightened slightly on her teacup, the tension of a guilty conscience.
Diancie said nothing more, sitting back in her chair and gesturing for them to take their seats.
The attendants brought new tea service.
Tea was poured into the cups, a wisp of white steam rising.
Diancie held her own cup, her eyes fixed on the surface of the tea. Her lips touched the rim, but she didn't drink.
She set it down, then picked it up again, and still didn't drink. This cycle repeated three times.
Klein silently counted in his head, figuring the Princess was likely frantically organizing her words.
Only after the steam from the tea had half-dissipated did Diancie speak.
“Lady Ophelia, how have you... been lately?”
It wasn't about the war on the West Coast, nor was it about the partnership with the Silver Scale Chamber of Commerce.
Ophelia clearly hadn't expected this question either. She looked at Diancie, pausing for half a beat before answering.
“...Fine.”
The answer was brief—not out of dismissiveness, but because she truly didn't know how to engage in such small talk with a princess she was meeting for the first time.
Klein knew this well—Ophelia’s vocabulary in social situations was basically inversely proportional to her lethality on the battlefield.
Diancie, however, didn't see any issue with the answer.
She nodded very seriously, as if Ophelia hadn't just said "fine," but had instead delivered a long speech worth careful digestion.
“That’s good. I heard you are currently staying at... er, Mr. Klein’s territory?”
“Yes.”
“Is life convenient there?”
“It is.”
Diancie nodded again.
After the nod, a brief silence fell.
Klein took a sip of tea.
It tasted good—new tea from this year, lightly roasted with a delicate floral fragrance.
Royal tea was indeed different.
“What about the food? Is the food in the territory to your liking?” Diancie asked again.
A subtle change appeared in Ophelia’s expression.
She probably hadn't expected a princess to care about whether she was eating well.
Moreover... Diancie’s questions were getting a bit "personal."
Ophelia looked down at the tea in her cup.
“The cook is skilled.” She paused, seemingly considering her phrasing, before adding, “The people at Klein’s place take good care of me.”
Hearing his name, Diancie’s attention successfully shifted back to Klein.
She looked at him with a gaze full of scrutiny, curiosity, and a little bit of—Klein wasn't sure how to define it—something like the pressure one might apply to a snack on their own plate.
Her finger pressed against the rim of the saucer, her nail making a light clicking sound.
Jealousy. Not the malicious kind, but a childish resentment more akin to "why is the person by her side you and not me?"
Klein turned to look at Ophelia.
Ophelia didn't look at him; she took a sip of tea, her expression normal, her posture straight—everything as usual.
Klein looked back and remained silent.
Diancie caught this detail. Her mouth opened, then closed. Her gaze bounced between the two of them twice before landing back on her own teacup.
She took another sip of tea, looking somewhat discouraged.
“Um...” Diancie set the cup down, her finger tracing half a circle along the rim, leaving a faint fingerprint on the porcelain. “Lady Ophelia, you might not remember me. During the victory ceremony on the West Coast, I was in the viewing gallery. When you rode past, I...”
She stopped.
Her gaze fixed on a specific point on the table, as if searching for courage there.
“...I waved at you.”
The moment she said it, Diancie herself froze.
It was as if she only realized what she had said after the words were out—telling her idol to their face, "I waved at you in the crowd back then, do you remember?" How was that any different from the girls who chased after bards in the marketplace?
Diancie’s face turned red. Not a modest blush, but a deep, uncontrollable red that spread from her neck upward. The color climbed past her jawline, spreading like the color of a begonia from its center outward.
“...Never mind, that’s not important.” Diancie decisively shut down the topic, her voice half a pitch higher as if using volume to suppress her shame. She sat up straight again, trying to reclaim her princely bearing. The back of her chair let out a faint creak, as if in rhythm with her resolve.
“What I mean is, I have always paid close attention to the affairs of the West Coast.”
That sentence was decent enough.
Ophelia’s hand holding the cup moved slightly. The corner of her mouth lifted in an extremely tiny arc—not a smile, not quite, but something more than expressionless.
If Klein had to translate it, it was somewhere between "this kid is interesting" and "not bad."
Klein glanced at Ophelia. There was no need for a telepathic exchange between them—in this situation, the best move was to give the Princess a way out.
“Since Your Highness follows the affairs of the West Coast, you should know that since the sea monsters retreated, the reconstruction progress of several coastal harbor towns has been less than ideal,” Klein said, taking the initiative to pick up the conversation.
Diancie’s expression immediately shifted from her previous embarrassment, replaced by a serious demeanor. Her back straightened further, her chin lifting two degrees, making her look like a completely different person from the fangirl of a moment ago.
“I’ve seen the reports. The restoration of Silver Scale Harbor is the fastest, but several fishing villages in the southern section still haven't restored their normal shipping routes.”
This answer made Klein think a bit more highly of her. People outside had heard about Silver Scale Harbor, but the shipping route issues in the southern fishing villages weren't something someone would know unless they were specifically looking.
If Nelisa hadn't asked them to say a few good words for the Silver Scale Chamber of Commerce, even Klein and Ophelia wouldn't have bothered to learn these things. Yet this Princess was clearly ahead of them in gathering information.
“The route issues aren't entirely due to infrastructure,” Ophelia added. She set her teacup down, the bottom of the cup meeting the saucer with a sharp clink. “The things left behind by the sea monsters are still underwater. The fishermen don't dare take the old routes.”
As she spoke, her left hand hung beneath the table, the edge of her glove tucked tightly into her sleeve.
Klein knew what she was thinking. The remnants of the sea monsters weren't just underwater—her left hand was living proof. That blackened skin and those fine scales reminded her every day of the horror of those creatures.
Diancie set her cup down, leaning forward slightly. “Residual pollution? I read in the Privy Council summaries that after the sea monsters retreated, some sea areas showed abnormal water quality and the fishing harvests were affected. But the specific scope and degree of pollution were very vague in the reports.”
“Because no one dares to go down and survey it,” Klein said.
The statement was blunt, making Diancie pause.
A gust of wind blew in from outside the low wall, swaying the begonia branches. A petal was blown loose, spiraling twice before landing on the table near Diancie’s hand. An attendant took half a step forward to clear it, but was blocked by a single look from Diancie.
“Most of the reports Your Highness sees are written from the perspective of the imperial capital—neat numbers, beautiful conclusions. But anyone who has actually been to the West Coast knows the true state of those waters. Even the survey teams sent by the Privy Council aren't sure what they’re looking at.”
Diancie didn't argue; instead, she nodded seriously. “That is why the Silver Scale Chamber of Commerce was able to gain a foothold on the West Coast. They have a fleet, they have sailors, and they dare to sail those routes.”
Klein hadn't expected her to bring up the Silver Scale Chamber of Commerce herself, saving him the trouble of steering the conversation.
“President Nelisa has indeed invested quite a lot in this regard,” Klein followed up smoothly. “The Silver Scale Chamber of Commerce isn't just running routes; they’ve also done a massive amount of work on collecting and performing preliminary analysis on sea monster remnants. Many of the primary materials were salvaged from polluted waters by the chamber’s own sailors at great risk.”
“While the scholars in the imperial capital sit in their studies writing papers, the sailors of the Silver Scale Chamber of Commerce are dragging the severed limbs of dead sea monsters through the mud.”
After he said this, the table fell silent for a moment.
Diancie’s brow furrowed slightly.
She looked down at the begonia petal on the table; its edges were already starting to wither.
“The royal family’s funding for the West Coast isn't actually small, but it gets distorted by the time it reaches the lower levels.” Diancie lowered her voice as she spoke, as if stating a fact she had confirmed but couldn't say loudly in public. Her finger touched the edge of the fallen petal but didn't pick it up.
Klein picked up his teacup and blew on it gently.
This Princess had indeed done her homework; she wasn't some figurehead who only read report summaries. At least regarding the West Coast, her investment of effort was real. To be able to say "funding gets distorted at the lower levels" in front of outsiders meant she was either blunt or intentionally showing goodwill—or perhaps both.
As for how much of that effort was out of a princess’s sense of duty and how much was because of the golden-haired knight sitting across from her—Klein was prudent enough not to poke at that question.
Ophelia, however, gave Diancie another look.
“Speaking of the Silver Scale Chamber of Commerce.” Diancie suddenly changed the direction of the conversation, looking at Klein. “I have also heard of Mr. Klein’s cooperation with them.”
Klein noticed her careful choice of words and smiled. “If Your Highness has something to ask, please ask directly.”
Diancie looked at him for two seconds, then at Ophelia. Ophelia held her teacup in silence, her expression saying, "If he says you can ask, then ask."
Diancie looked up, her gaze switching from her earlier girl-like fervor to a different temperature. Not cold, but noticeably more lucid.
“I want to know what you are researching.”
She paused, then added a sentence.
“The things that the people from the Privy Council cannot produce—I want to know how much of that you have in your hands.”
Those words landed on the table, much heavier than a begonia petal.
Klein set his cup down. The bottom of the cup met the saucer with a sharp clink.
Rate on N.U.
