Chapter 8: George Fletcher

"Your Highness, was it really necessary to kidnap him?" Edina asked, effortlessly holding George in her arms like he weighed nothing.

Jacinta's lips twitched at the sight. Of course. Edina's absurd strength was just another reminder of the magic she possessed.

"I never said to kidnap him. I only asked you to bring him over so we could have a chat."

"Well, no worries, Your Highness. I carried him like a drunkard, and since we booked the entire restaurant, no one questioned a thing."

"Just wake him up and let him take his seat. We don't have much time." Jacinta sighed, motioning to the sofa.

Edina complied, setting George down with surprising gentleness before pulling out another pouch of powder. With a practiced flick, she blew the dust over his face. Within moments, his eyes fluttered open.

"Ah!" George bolted upright, arms crossed in front of him like a flimsy shield. "Please don't hurt me!"

Jacinta remained calm, her voice even. "I apologize for my servant's actions, but I assure you, no harm will come to you. We're in Flordelutz, and I simply wish to discuss your product."

---

George's gaze shifted to the woman who had just spoken. Her head was concealed beneath a black hood, and a half mask obscured the lower half of her face. Instead of an elegant gown, she wore a tailored rider's suit — practical and imposing.

Suspicious. Far too suspicious.

And nobles like her? The most dangerous of all.

"Milady, I'm honored by your interest in my product," George said with a polite smile. "But I fear a humble merchant like myself may not meet your expectations."

Jacinta grinned. A classic businessman's way of saying he'd rather not get involved with me.

"On the contrary, Mr. Fletcher," she replied smoothly. "I believe in your product. It's innovative, with immense potential."

Before George could respond, Edina stepped forward. "Milady, the meal has arrived."

Jacinta nodded, then turned back to George. "Stay and dine with us. Afterward, I ask only that you hear me out. Whatever your decision, I won't force your hand."

George's smile remained, though the wariness in his eyes lingered. "It would be my honor, Milady. But may I know the name of the lady I have the pleasure of dining with?"

Jacinta's voice was calm, her words deliberate. "I'll tell you once you've made your choice — whether you accept or decline."

George held his composed, businesslike smile. "Very well, Milady."

Edina began setting the table, arranging the dishes brought in by the restaurant owner. Flordelutz was famous for its exquisite beef dishes, renowned across the capital. Securing a reservation here was nearly impossible — most had to book a month in advance.

George had never dined here before. The fact that this mysterious noble could arrange it so effortlessly spoke volumes. She was no ordinary aristocrat.

With cautious curiosity, George took a bite. Then another. And another.

Incredible.

Flordelutz's reputation wasn't just well-earned — it was flawless. The rich flavors danced on his tongue, every bite leaving him wanting more. But just as the satisfaction settled in, so did his wariness.

No, no. I won't be swayed by luxurious food. I'm not that easily bought.

Jacinta, silent and composed, ate her meal with graceful precision, all the while stealing glances at George. She didn't miss how quickly his plate emptied.

Realization struck George too late. His gaze dropped to the clean plate before him. Did I... eat everything?

Jacinta's voice broke the moment. "Did you enjoy the meal?"

George cleared his throat, his cheeks tinged with embarrassment. "Yes. Flordelutz certainly lives up to its reputation. I'm grateful to Milady for the opportunity."

Jacinta's eyes gleamed with amusement. She could tell — the tension in George's shoulders had eased, if only a little.

"That's good to hear," Jacinta said, her smile faint but unwavering.

"I'm also surprised that all the meats are already cut into small pieces. Usually, we are the ones who cut it."

"Yes it is," Jacinta simply nodded her head.

"Mr. Fletcher, I took the liberty of looking into your background." Getting straight to the topic.

George stiffened slightly, though his practiced smile stayed firmly in place.

"Your family, the Fletchers, are a subsidiary of the Hillmans — the Empire's leading merchant group. With their backing, starting a business within the Empire would be effortless. So why venture into foreign territory, beyond their reach, where no one knows your name?"

Last night, Jacinta read and reviewed George's business proposal. A Commenda deal — a bold request. George sought an investor to finance him of products for the local market, which he would then export abroad. High risk, uncertain reward.

"Ah… that," George began, his smile faltering for the briefest moment. "I want to build something of my own, under my own name. Not as a Fletcher under the Hillmans' shadow." He took a slow breath. "I realize it's far from a sound business decision. Any sensible merchant would seize the advantages at their disposal. But this venture… it's personal. I'm fully aware of the risks. There's no guarantee I'll succeed."

Trying to undersell himself? Jacinta mused, her amusement well-hidden.

George maintained his composure, but there was no mistaking the flicker of discomfort in his eyes. He wanted this conversation over and done with — that much was clear.

But Jacinta wasn't one to back down so easily. If she wanted George's product, she would have it — no matter what.

"As I said, Mr. Fletcher, I'm interested in your product." Her voice was firm, unwavering. "I'll offer you 3,000 gold coins as the principal investment."

With a deliberate motion, she pushed a scroll across the table.

"Three thousand gold coins?" George's eyes widened, his composure slipping.

That sum could buy an entire village. It wasn't just a proposal — it was an opportunity most merchants would kill for.

"Yes," Jacinta confirmed. "I want to be your financier, provided you agree to my terms and conditions." She gestured, sliding a second scroll toward him. "Of course, if you have adjustments or additional terms, we can negotiate."

George accepted the scroll, though the weight of the situation visibly settled on him. He hesitated before finally unrolling it. The room fell silent as his eyes scanned the contents. Every clause, every detail — he read with a seriousness that didn't go unnoticed.

After what felt like an eternity, George carefully rolled the parchment shut. "Milady," he said, his tone cautious, "may I request some time to review this thoroughly?"

"Three days," Jacinta replied without pause. "That's all I can offer. We'll meet here again at 8:00 a.m. for your decision."

She rose gracefully, her presence commanding even as she turned away. "And since no agreement has been made today, I'll keep my name to myself a little longer."

"Of course, Milady," George said, quickly standing and bowing. "Three days it is. I'll see you then."

Jacinta gave a small nod of acknowledgment before walking toward the door. Edina followed closely behind, her silent presence as steady as ever.

The door closed behind them, leaving George standing amidst the empty plates and the weight of the scroll in his hands.

***

Jacinta settled into the carriage, a quiet chuckle escaping her lips.

"What's so amusing, Your Highness?" Edina asked, her curiosity piqued as she sat across from her.

"George Fletcher," Jacinta replied, a sly smile tugging at her lips. "He's quite the amusing fellow."

Edina frowned. "And why is that?"

"His act was convincing. Almost too convincing," Jacinta said, her laughter soft but knowing. "For a moment, he nearly fooled me."

"An act?" Edina's confusion only grew.

"You'll understand soon enough," Jacinta said with a shrug. "But one thing is clear — he's cautious. I like that."

Edina gave her a bewildered look, but Jacinta seemed thoroughly entertained.

"Let's head back to the palace," she said, leaning back comfortably. "Three days. I can hardly wait."

As the carriage rolled forward, Jacinta's grin lingered.