Chapter 55 Conversation at the Vance Family Port
Julian stared at Gisella like she was an alien who just dropped from the sky. He crossed his arms over his chest, eyes narrowed, looking her up and down.?
"You lost?" Julian asked. His voice was flat, no small talk. "This is a harbor, not the palace garden where you can play hide-and-seek."
Gisella gripped the edge of her dress. Her hands were ice cold. She remembered Ilse's advice: Don't look scared. If you look scared, he's gonna step all over you.
"I'm not lost," Gisella answered. Her voice was shaking a bit, but she forced it to stay steady. "I'm here for business."
Julian let out a short laugh. A laugh that sounded damn sarcastic. "Business? You? The princess whose only job is to dress up?"
Gisella took a deep breath. She started spitting out what she'd memorized all night long.
"My family wants to expand our tobacco business in the South. I need a partner with strong distribution channels, and the Vance family..." Gisella paused, gathering her courage. "...are the only ones who have that."
Julian was still looking at her with a dismissive look. He was about to turn around, but Gisella's next sentence stopped him dead.
"The Holy Order's logistics policy for incoming goods is trash," Gisella said, straight to the point.
She was mimicking Ilse's cynical tone. "The tariff rates are double, the permit system is super bureaucratic, and you guys are wasting time on pointless warehouse checks. If you keep up that policy,
your profits are gonna get cut by 30 percent because your goods will rot in the warehouse waiting too long."
Silence. The noisy ship engines seemed to just vanish.
Julian slowly turned back toward Gisella. His eyes, which were cold before, changed. Not angry, but... surprised? It was like he was looking at some alien creature.
"Did you just talk about the Holy Order's tariff system?" Julian asked, his voice low but sharp.
"Yeah," Gisella nodded. "It's inefficient. You know that yourself, right? You're just staying quiet because you don't want to fight with your superiors."
Julian was quiet for a long time. He looked at Gisella, really seeing her now. Not as a pretty doll he needed to get rid of, but as... a person.
"Sit," Julian said suddenly. He pointed at a wooden crate behind him that was relatively clean.
Gisella obeyed. She sat on the rough wooden crate, her dress getting all messed up with harbor dust. Julian sat on the crate next to it, pulled a small knife out of his pocket, and started peeling an apple casually.
"So, how do you think we should fix it?" Julian asked. This time, there was no condescending tone. He was actually asking.
Gisella started explaining the logistics she'd learned from Ilse. She added her own opinions on faster trade routes. Every now and then, Julian would cut in, offer a rebuttal, and a long debate started.
No more bossy tone from Julian. No more fear from Gisella. Just two people arguing about tobacco in the middle of the rotten fish stench.
Julian glanced at Gisella, who was super fired up explaining shipping efficiency. He felt weird. All this time, he'd thought Gisella was just dead weight. Turns out, she was actually worth talking to.
"You can actually think," Julian muttered, his voice low but loud enough for Gisella to hear.
Gisella gave a faint smile. The first genuinely sincere smile she'd had all day. "Don't underestimate me, Mr. Vance."
Julian just smirked. "We'll see."