Chapter Twenty-Six
The summit developed a rhythm over the following days. Finn woke each morning at dawn, reviewed the day’s schedule with Gordon, confirmed delegations had what they needed, and addressed inevitable small crises before they became large ones.
Queen Cressida’s delegation needed additional seating for an expanded breakfast meeting.
Handled. Emperor Shen’s translator requested specific herbs for tea.
Finn got them sourced from the kitchen gardens within an hour.
King Dimitri’s adviser discovered a draft in their conference room.
Finn personally traced the source to a window that needed weather stripping and fixed it himself while the adviser watched with bemused approval.
“Your Majesty does his own repairs?”
“Sometimes it proves faster than waiting for someone else.” Finn tested the window. No more draft. “Besides, I enjoy it.”
The adviser smiled. “King Dimitri will appreciate hearing this. He complains constantly about courtiers who cannot change a candle without summoning three servants.”
Small moments like that accumulated. Delegates noticed that Finn was everywhere.
It wasn’t intentional. Finn was just doing what he felt needed to be done - checking rooms, solving problems, speaking with equal courtesy to visiting royalty and castle staff.
He wasn’t standing around making polite conversation, he simply did what needed doing, quietly and efficiently.
Princess Marielle made several attempts to criticize Safe Harbor’s “provincial customs,” but she found little support among the other delegates.
Her father had been heard to mention to her more than once that she focus on the actual summit business rather than social commentary.
After Queen Valdis’s public rebuke, most delegates weren’t in a hurry to echo Princess Marielle’s complaints.
By the third day, Finn was feeling cautiously confident. The logistics were working. The delegations seemed comfortable. The schedule was holding despite the inevitable adjustments required when putting so many political powers in close quarters.
After the success of the opening banquet, the evening entertainments continued to showcase Safe Harbor’s authentic culture.
A demonstration of traditional boat-building techniques drew legitimate interest from multiple delegates.
Local performers sang maritime ballads. The harbor itself became a backdrop for informal gatherings where delegates could step away from formal negotiations and simply talk.
“You’ve created something remarkable here,” Queen Cressida told Finn during one such gathering. The sea breeze carried salt and the distant sound of waves. “Most summits feel like elaborate performances. This feels...like a fun experience.”
“That was the goal.” Finn watched Darragh across the courtyard, deep in conversation with King Orwyn. “Safe Harbor doesn’t do pretense well. We decided to stop trying.”
“A wise choice.” She sipped her wine. “Your husband was right in his speech. Authenticity is rarer than you might think in diplomatic circles.”
Finn appreciated her words but stayed focused on the work. Compliments were pleasant, but the summit’s success depended on actual results. In this case, it was in the number of treaties negotiated, agreements reached, and relationships strengthened.
The crisis came on the fourth day.
Three kingdoms - Ironmoor, the Northern Coastal Alliance, and Eastmarch - were negotiating fishing rights in disputed waters.
The session was scheduled for the large conference room, and Finn arrived early to ensure everything was arranged properly.
Chairs had to be positioned precisely around the large, round wooden table, and Finn wanted to be sure that the water pitchers were filled, and the documents were organized in their appropriate folders.
He’d just finished when delegates began arriving. Their expressions were tense, frustration evident in clipped greetings and stiff postures. Finn withdrew to the side of the room, wanting to stay out of the way of the discussion side of the proceedings.
The discussion started civilly enough, but deteriorated quickly.
Queen Valdis insisted that her kingdom’s historical claims predated the other two.
Lord Castellan of the Northern Coastal Alliance countered with equally historical documentation proving his people had fished those waters for generations.
Duke Pentacastle from Eastmarch pointed out that his kingdom’s economy depended on access to those fishing grounds.
The issue was clear - at least to Finn. Each position was valid. Each kingdom had legitimate needs and historical precedent. But nobody would compromise, and that was the problem.
“These waters belong to Ironmoor by right of first settlement,” Queen Valdis said, her tone allowing no argument.
“First settlement means nothing if our people starve.” Lord Castellan’s voice was sharp. “The Northern Alliance has five coastal villages entirely dependent on those fisheries.”
“Eastmarch has seven.” Duke Pentacastle slammed a document on the table. “Seven villages. Three thousand people whose livelihoods depend on fishing rights you’re trying to eliminate.”
The formal language couldn’t hide the underlying desperation. These weren’t abstract political positions - each side was arguing about their people’s survival.
After ninety minutes, Helena called a break. The delegates stood stiffly, moving to separate corners of the room rather than mingling. Finn stayed quiet, reviewing his notes for the afternoon session scheduled in this same space.
Lord Castellan approached the window where Finn stood, needing distance from the negotiating table. He didn’t acknowledge Finn directly, just stared out at the harbor and muttered, “This is just impossible. There’s no resolution that satisfies everyone.”
Finn probably should have stayed silent. It wasn’t his negotiation, and it definitely wasn’t his expertise. But the frustration in the man’s voice reminded him of village disputes back in Winrone - arguments that seemed intractable until someone reframed the problem.
“It sounds like you all want the same thing,” Finn said quietly. “To make sure your fishermen can earn a living.”
Lord Castellan turned, as if just remembering Finn was there. “Yes, Your Grace, but we need exclusive rights to ensure our people have sufficient resources.”
“Do you?” Finn kept his tone casual, non-confrontational.
“What if instead of fighting over territory, you focused on making sure the waters stay healthy and the markets stay fair? If there’re enough fish for everyone and nobody’s undercutting prices, exclusive control matters less, wouldn’t you think? ”
The lord studied him for a long moment. “You’re suggesting resource management instead of territorial division.”
“I’m suggesting that if the real concern is livelihood, maybe territory is the wrong thing to negotiate.” Finn shrugged. “But I fix roofs and broken furniture. I don’t know anything about fishing rights or diplomatic treaties.”
“Sometimes ignorance of precedent allows clearer thinking.” Lord Castellan’s expression shifted, clearly thinking about Finn’s suggestion. “Resource management. Shared waters with agreed-upon sustainability practices.”
He walked away, but Finn could see the idea working through his mind.
When the session resumed, Lord Castellan proposed a different approach.
Instead of dividing territory, they could establish shared fishing grounds with agreed-upon limits—catch quotas to ensure sustainability, market agreements to prevent price manipulation, and joint patrols to enforce regulations.
Queen Valdis initially resisted, but Duke Pentacastle seized the concept immediately. “If we cooperate instead of compete, we all benefit from healthier waters and more stable markets.”
The discussion shifted. Instead of entrenched positions, they began problem-solving together. By the end of the afternoon, they’d outlined a treaty framework that satisfied all three kingdoms including shared resources, mutual benefits, and collaborative enforcement.
As delegates filed out, Queen Valdis stopped beside Finn. “Lord Castellan mentioned you suggested the resource management approach.”
Finn felt his stomach tighten. Shit. He had overstepped and interfered in a negotiation that wasn’t his responsibility. “I apologize if I…”
“Don’t apologize.” She cut him off. “Your refreshingly direct approach cut through hours of pointless posturing. If you see similar opportunities to inject common sense into political theater, I encourage you to continue.”
She swept out before Finn could respond, but clearly what he’d done had been noticed.
Over the next two days, Finn could see a real shift in how delegates interacted with him.
They still came to him about the logistical side of things - room arrangements, schedule adjustments, dietary requirements.
But increasingly, they sought him out for other reasons as well.
A delegate from the Eastern Provinces vented frustration about trade negotiations bogged down in tariff complications.
Finn listened and asked a simple question: “What goods are you actually trying to move, and what’s the real barrier?
” The answer led to a breakthrough. It turns out the tariff structure was the problem, not the solution.
Simplifying it served everyone’s interests better than maintaining complicated controls.