Before the delegation ever arrived, I had already gone through hell.
Not the dramatic kind with blood and screaming—no, worse. Studying.
Actual studying.
I was buried in books about the visiting country's ethics, etiquette, customs, taboos, greetings, dining norms, political history, religious faux pas, and the very specific way they preferred to be acknowledged by foreign nobles. Apparently, bow too low and you're mocking them.
Bow too shallow and you're insulting their ancestors. Angle your chin wrong and you're challenging someone to a duel. Smile at the wrong time and congratulations, you just implied their second prince was illegitimate.
Why is diplomacy like this.
This was the Kingdom of Tezca—a warm-climate nation across the southern seas, known for its spice trade, gemstone caravans, and notoriously rigid court hierarchy.
On paper, they were friendly. In practice, they were proud to the point of suffocation.
Hierarchy was everything. Bloodline mattered. Titles mattered. The way you spoke mattered. Even pauses in speech mattered.
They valued restraint. Silence. "Weight" behind words.
Annoying.
I flipped another page, rubbing my temples.
Jane stood quietly nearby, occasionally handing me water or fruit when she noticed my concentration slipping.
Anna hovered at a respectful distance, clearly trying to understand how reading could be more exhausting than combat.
The gods, unfortunately, had opinions.
[You could simply ask us,] one of them said, smug as always.[Yes! We could upload the knowledge directly!] another chimed in.[Why waste time on something so trivial?]
I didn't even look up. "Because it's basic."
They paused.
"Because this is what I'm supposed to do," I continued.
"If I'm acting as a proxy for imperial law, then knowing their customs isn't optional. It's the bare minimum."
[You could rely on us.]
"And then what?" I snapped internally. "You'll start nudging me again. Pushing outcomes. Tying threads I didn't ask for. Every time I let you handle things, something bad happens."
Silence.
Good.
Relying on gods was convenient. Too convenient. And convenience always came with interest rates I didn't agree to.
By the time the sun reached its peak, I had memorized enough to pass as someone who'd been raised in Tezca.
Greeting gestures. Honorific sequencing. Eye contact rules. Even the subtle pause they used before acknowledging hosts of equal rank.
Annoying. But manageable.
When the hour came, I was already waiting at the front gate of the Tezca estate.
The southern air was heavy and warm, carrying salt from the sea. The estate's gates stood open, banners fluttering lazily. Guards lined both sides, their armor polished but relaxed—southern discipline was looser than the north, but no less sharp.
Jane stood half a step behind me, posture impeccable.
The distant sound of wheels approached.
"Here they come," Jane murmured.
The carriages entered the estate grounds—ornate, lacquered wood in deep crimson and gold, adorned with unfamiliar sigils. The Tespitachi crest. Elegant. Excessive. Very on-brand.
A herald stepped forward.
"Announcing the arrival of the Royal Delegation of the Kingdom of Solidaria, envoys of His Highness, the Crown Prince—"
Blah blah blah.
I tuned out halfway through.
When the announcement finished, I stepped forward and performed the greeting I had practiced repeatedly that morning.
Not a bow.
Not a curt nod.
A measured lowering of the head, right hand pressed flat against the chest, fingers angled slightly inward. A pause. Then eye contact—not direct, not submissive. Equal.
"Tezca welcomes the sun, and the sun answers," I said calmly, in their language.
The reaction was immediate.
The lead envoy stiffened.
Several attendants blinked.
Jane later told me there was a visible ripple through the delegation.
The envoy recovered quickly and returned the gesture—correctly, but with a hint of surprise.
"A flawless greeting," he said, switching to the imperial tongue. "I did not expect such precision."
"I studied," I replied flatly.
He laughed—short, sharp. Arrogant. "Indeed. Most nobles wouldn't bother."
I didn't rise to that.
The envoy introduced himself at length—his title, his lineage, his achievements, his proximity to the royal family. Every sentence screamed importance. His posture was upright, chin lifted just a little too high.
Pride radiated off him like heat.
Still, his eyes kept flicking back to me.
"You are… younger than expected," he said. "And yet, you carry yourself well."
"Courtesy is universal," I answered. "Regardless of age."
Another pause.
That pleased him. Unfortunately.
"His Highness will be most interested in meeting you," the envoy said. "To think that the empire would entrust such duties to someone of your standing."
There it was.
A test.
"I act in accordance with imperial decree," I replied. "Nothing more."
His smile sharpened.
Then the carriage door opened.
The air changed.
Not dramatically—no pressure, no killing intent. Just… a shift. Like the moment before a storm decides whether it wants to rain or tear the sky open.
A man stepped down from the carriage.
Tall. Broad-shouldered. Brown hair tied back loosely. His attire was foreign but immaculate—layered fabrics in deep blues and golds, embroidered with subtle patterns that caught the light. Jewelry adorned him, but sparingly. Everything about him screamed status, but not in the loud way.
His eyes were brown too. Observant. Too calm.
The Crown Prince of Solidaria, Julius Ainsworth.
Before he could speak, I stepped forward.
"I am Josephine von Konrow," I said evenly. "Daughter of House Konrow, acting host of the southern duchy under imperial authority. On behalf of the Carlisle Empire, I welcome you."
His gaze lingered on me.
Then he smiled.
Not wide. Not sharp.
Measured.
"A pleasure," he said. "I am Julius Ainsworth. I thank you for receiving us in place of the Tezca main family."
He inclined his head—not deeply. Equal again.
Perfect etiquette.
Too perfect.
Something crawled under my skin.
"I trust your journey was pleasant," I said.
"Productive," he replied.
That didn't answer the question.
The gods stirred.
[Something is wrong,] one murmured.[Would you like us to—]
'No,' I cut in mentally. 'Don't.'
[We could tell you.]
"I said no."
I met the prince's gaze again.
Whatever this was, I'd figure it out myself.
Because the entire delegation felt… off.
Not hostile.
Not friendly.
Just waiting.
And I had the sinking feeling that this "vacation" was officially over.