Orion wrapped up the session with a practiced smile.
"These are all the things we have planned for today. Lord Hugo, you were a big help in sorting things out. I hope to see you in the next session as well. It will focus on setting a date and time to meet the envoy at the border."
I offered a polite nod and replied, "It's been a pleasure to take part in discussions alongside such sharp minds. Hopefully, I didn't drag down the average intelligence of the room too much."
Orion chuckled lightly. "Please enjoy the rest of your day. My apologies for keeping you here for so long." He then turned toward his daughter, adding, "Sylvia, show Lord Hugo around the mansion."
Sylvia gave a graceful bow. "It would be my pleasure."
Then, she turned to me, hands folded before her, all proper and polite. "With your permission, Lord Hugo."
"Ofcourse my lady, my pleasure, Lead the way," I said, giving a small tilt of my head.
And so, I found myself wandering through the well-lit corridors of House Leon's main estate, flanked on one side by an elegant noblewoman and on the other by my trusty maid-turned-bodyguard-turned-silent-commentary-machine, Clara.
Sylvia began pointing out various sections of the mansion: ancestral halls filled with dusty portraits, a private gallery displaying artifacts that were either historically significant or impressively shiny, and a training courtyard where soldiers drilled in neat formations.
I made appropriate noises of interest, nodded a lot, and internally wondered how they kept the marble floors this clean.
Eventually, we reached a more tranquil part of the estate: a serene garden enclosed by white stone walls, where flowering trees drooped slightly under their own vibrant weight.
A small round table was arranged under the shade, set for two, with porcelain tea cups and a three-tier tray of snacks that made my stomach remember it hadn't eaten since morning.
Sylvia gestured to the setup. "I had this arranged in advance. Please, sit."
Clara pulled out my chair before I even reached it, unfailingly efficient as ever. I sat. Sylvia did the same across from me. Clara, of course, stood behind me like a sentinel, silently judging everyone's table manners.
A maid appeared, seemingly summoned by pure decorum, and poured the tea.
Once we had our cups, Sylvia delicately lifted hers and asked, "Lord Hugo, how do you intend to convince the Elvian envoy that a trade deal with us won't jeopardize their long-standing relationship with Zerathene?"
Ah yes. The diplomatic landmine.
She continued, her tone composed but clearly uneasy. "Even if we assure them of favorable terms with Tenjiku, I don't believe they would risk their relationship with Zerathene so easily. Their bond spans decades, possibly centuries. It must be deeply rooted."
I took a sip of tea..not gonna lie, it was good. I set the cup down slowly.
"But we already agreed the plan would work. Lord Orion vouched for it. We discussed it in the court. Why are you bringing this up now?"
She hesitated, just slightly. "It is only a feeling…"
Then she looked around, subtle, but I caught it. She was weighing whether to speak further.
I raised a brow. "You know, I might be able to help if I actually knew what the problem was."
That earned me a glance. She closed her eyes briefly, composed herself, then opened them with a sharper edge. She turned to the maid and gave a look that screamed, 'Please disappear.'
The maid, either trained to obey noble glares or just used to Sylvia's silent commands, bowed and quietly left.
Sylvia cleared her throat. "It is a bit of a private matter within the mansion… I would prefer it not be widely heard."
She didn't say it outright, but I could feel the unspoken question, 'You sure you want your maid to hear things?'
I leaned back. "Clara listening in will amount to nothing more than me listening. Sometimes, less."
Clara didn't even flinch. She just nodded, as if proud to be officially listed under "furniture with ears."
Sylvia relented with a nod. Probably because she too trusts Clara to a degree. "Very well."
She lowered her voice. "I have been noticing something. My father… he has been growing more lenient with the ministers. At first, they were diligent. Their proposals were sharp, ambitious, focused on elevating Viscount Orion's name in the Leon succession race. Back then, their ideas were grounded in practicality and growth."
She paused, fingers tightening lightly around her teacup.
"But lately… their strategies have become surface-level. They're saying things just to please him. Theories that sound convincing in meetings, but fail in application. My father excuses these failures as misfortune. But I am starting to suspect…"
She drew a breath, looked down, then finished the sentence in a near-whisper.
"…I think they're doing it on purpose."
She looked back up, eyes more troubled than before.
"And if my suspicion is correct… then my uncle, Draziel, already knows that we intend to negotiate with the Elvian envoy."
She lowered her head slightly, lips pressed together. For someone always poised, she suddenly looked like she was questioning whether she'd done the right thing in confiding in me.
She lowered her head, her fingers curling over the hem of her dress as if she could fold the worry out of it.
A breeze stirred through the garden, rustling the leaves just enough to fill the silence that followed her confession.
I studied her in that moment.
Seventeen.
Seventeen, and yet she wasn't just parroting her tutors or echoing court gossip. She felt something was wrong. More importantly, she understood why it was wrong.
To understand the difference between things that work in only theory and those that work in practice...that's a distinction most adults with twice her years still struggle to grasp.
I've seen full-grown men bet fortunes on ideas that sounded wonderful in principle… and then cry when reality crushed them like overripe fruit.
But this girl? She not only identified the cracks, she traced them back to their origin.
Rare.
Very rare.
No matter what happened between the Falcon Duchy and House Orion, I needed to stay in her good graces.
Sylvia Leon wasn't just the daughter of a political ally, she was a valuable asset in her own right. With time and experience, she might even grow into someone like Gaveric.
And if there's one thing I learned from my old life… it's that knowing who's worth investing in is half the battle won.
I leaned forward, keeping my expression even.
"You do realize," I said calmly, "if that information reaches our competitors… it won't be House Orion that takes the hit first."
Sylvia looked up, startled. I didn't need to raise my voice; just laying out facts was enough.
"As investors," I continued, "we'll be the ones gravely affected. Our credibility, our influence… all of it compromised. And anyone in their right mind would cut loose ends the moment they became a threat to future returns."
Her lips parted, eyes widening just a little before she quickly dipped her head in a small bow.
"I-I assure you, Lord Hugo, it is only a private suspicion," she said hurriedly, her voice composed but rushed at the edges. "I meant no disrespect to the alliance or to the trust your House has extended toward my father. Please don't take it as anything more than my personal concern."
Clara, standing behind me, didn't move a muscle, but I felt her eyes flick to Sylvia, likely reassessing her from a new angle.
I took another sip of tea, letting her worry hang for a moment longer than necessary.
In truth, I wasn't angry. Just… thinking.
I had planned to speak to Lord Orion privately this evening regardless, just a simple check-in to ensure that the court's decisions weren't just ceremonial puffery.
But if I really got the sense that Orion was letting himself be swayed by sweet-talking ministers with empty plans, then maybe I'd have to write to Father.
Postpone the backing.
Because not cutting off incompetence in time drowns you in the long run. Doesn't matter how promising the start is, dead weight will drag you to the bottom just the same.
I turned back to Sylvia.
"Lady Sylvia," I said, setting the teacup down with a soft clink, "if you suspected this much, why didn't you bring it up with Lord Orion? Surely alerting him directly would solve the issue."
Her shoulders tensed ever so slightly.
"My father… has always been protective of me," she said quietly. "He doesn't see value in discussing such matters with me. He believes I should not be troubled by the politics of the court yet."
Ah.
So Orion thought talking to a kid about court stuff was a waste of time.
If Everard had thought the same about me, I wouldn't even be here sipping this overpriced tea.
I clicked my tongue in thought.
"Well then," I said, rising from my chair and brushing the fabric of my sleeves straight, "let's speak to Lord Orion together this evening."
Sylvia blinked, visibly caught off guard. "You… wish to go together?"
I offered a small smile, just enough to look polite, not reassuring. "Yes. Don't worry, I won't mention what you told me now. I'll just nudge the topic toward practicality. If he listens… good. If not, at least we'll both know where we stand."
Her gaze steadied, and after a pause, she gave a graceful bow.
"…Thank you, Lord Hugo."
Still, something about Sylvia's earlier expression stayed with me. That subtle tension in her brow. That weight behind her words.
This wasn't just court politics.
This was something deeper.
And if I didn't thread this needle right, it wouldn't just be Orion's problem, it would be mine too.
Sylvia led the way through the west corridor of the mansion, her steps composed but just a touch faster than usual. Nervous? Maybe.
The two guards stationed outside Orion's chamber straightened at the sight of her. One of them gave a quick nod and knocked twice. After a few moments, he slipped inside alone, then returned shortly to gesture us in.
Clara gave me a sidelong glance, a silent message passing between us. She stayed behind without needing to be told.
Inside, the chamber was warm with polished wood, a fire crackling gently in the hearth, and heavy velvet curtains drawn halfway over the windows. Lord Orion sat at the far end, his eyes lighting up as he rose from his seat.
"Lord Hugo," he greeted, arms open in practiced hospitality. "A pleasure this fine evening."
I returned the gesture with a polite smile. "Lord Orion. Thank you for receiving us on such short notice."
He gestured toward the seating near the low table. "To what do I owe this visit?"
"I wanted to catch up," I said casually, settling across from him. "I've been absent from some of the courtroom discussions. It'd be helpful to go over the key points, especially the ones involving the formatting."
He gave a nod, smiling. "Of course, of course. It's important for our representative to be well-informed."
What a lovely answer, and yet I could almost hear the gears behind his smile. Orion was too seasoned not to recognize a purpose behind an unexpected evening visit, especially one with both me and his daughter.
We started with harmless details. I let him walk me through what was discussed earlier, product categories, pricing formats, target vendors. I nodded and listened, letting him do the talking until he reached the end.
Then I leaned slightly forward, tone thoughtful.
"There's something I've been wondering about. The pricing format and selection pattern...it feels more like we're trying to outmatch Zerathene rather than build something uniquely ours."
Orion tilted his head slightly, the corner of his mouth twitching. "As our ministers pointed out, it's important to present ourselves as the superior option. Our partners need to see that we are not just viable, but better."
"Hmm," I murmured, running a finger along the rim of my cup. "I find two uncertainties with that approach. First, targeting a market already occupied by a major player like Zerathene...deep-rooted, long-standing, means we're throwing ourselves into direct competition. That could easily backfire. They've already formed deep alliances. Even if we offer better prices, how long can we afford to undercut them?"
I caught the slight shift in his expression, his smile didn't falter, but the muscle near his jaw tensed ever so slightly.
"And second," I continued, "if our long-term strategy is to partner with Zerathene, to create a regional trade network rather than a rivalry, then this approach feels... contradictory. If we provoke them early, we risk turning a potential partner into a hostile rival."
He held my gaze for a moment longer than necessary. Then finally spoke. "I'll be sure to bring these points up in tomorrow's session."
A safe answer. Diplomatic. Noncommittal.
Then Sylvia's voice cut through.
"What is your opinion, Father?"
Her tone was soft, respectful, but there was a subtle edge to it.
"It seems I missed your opinion in the courtroom today...or perhaps you never gave it?"
Orion's face twitched. He tried to mask it, but the discomfort was visible. He hadn't expected her to push. Especially not in front of me.
I watched silently. This was her moment.
Orion cleared his throat and straightened. "Asserting dominance through pricing and product consistency will draw local merchants. The same product, but at a lower cost, will attract customers. The larger players will follow once they see the market shifting. Then, gradually, we can introduce our expensive products and profit through a larger market."
His voice was confident, like a noble drawing lines on a war map. Sylvia looked at him with a neutral expression, but her eyes stayed sharp and unreadable.
"And by showing early rivalry," he added, "we can make Zerathene uncomfortable enough to consider negotiations on our terms. That's how rivals become partners, through pressure and leverage."
I said nothing, but in my head, I was already sighing.
This is the problem.
It sounds well-crafted. A clean, logical arc. Step one, dominate the market. Step two, provoke a response. Step three, somehow transform that tension into partnership. Except...
It's a fantasy.
Did he really think Zerathene would sit idly by? Let us undercut them without retaliation? They had fucking embassies established there. They'd slash prices, cut deals, pull strings. We'd be knee-deep in a trade war with a veteran. And when we lost, which we would eventually, we'd have burned every bridge leading to a future alliance.
At best, we'd be another regional merchant with no political weight. A failed project in a history book.
I was just about to rephrase all that into something the nobility could swallow....but Sylvia stood.
"Father," she said, voice trembling slightly, "we have to show the elves what Zerathene doesn't offer. Unique goods. Local specialties. Something they've never seen. If we chase what's already taken, we'll always be second."
She was getting fired up, her hands moving as she spoke. "We should carve a new place...trade what only we can offer. Then, we partner with the veterans. We buy their best. Sell our best. That's how lasting trade works."
I didn't stop her. I didn't want to.
But Orion did.
"That's enough, Sylvia," he said firmly, raising his hand. "You don't understand. Trade is war. You win by owning the field. There's no room for partnership. Only monopoly."
She stared at him, wide-eyed. "That's exactly what Griffinvale and Uncle Draziel are doing—"
"Enough."
His voice cut sharp. Then, gentler, but condescending, he added, "You don't have to trouble yourself with this. It takes time to understand how these things work. You're still young."
His eyes flicked to me, just for a moment. The implication was clear.
You're both too young.
Sylvia's lips pressed into a thin line, her hands trembling. She wasn't just angry. She was afraid.
Because she knew. She knew what I'd told her earlier. If Orion stuck to this, and it failed, Falcon will pull its support.
And if we did... Orion wouldn't just lose the elves.
He would lose everything. And she can't let that happen to her father.