Ragneid Valtisdóttir looked like a courtesan sent to smile and curtsey. However, once you started talking to her, you soon realized that her analytical gaze and perfect command of language made her someone you could trust with an important negotiation, as was the case.
In her thirties, she moves with the quiet confidence of someone who has spent half her life among court corridors, docks, warehouses, and weathered captains. A dark blue wool cloak falls over her shoulders, fastened by a simple silver brooch in the shape of Adon’s roaring bear. Underneath, practical layers: undyed linen, gray wool, a leather belt… nothing ostentatious, everything chosen for travel and protection from the cold.
From her hip hung a sealskin bag containing wax tablets, ink, and a few folded letters bearing the seal of the Crown. Her hands were those of a professional: clean, firm, and bearing two scars, minor burns caused by some incident and of the kind earned by those who do not delegate all the unpleasant details.
She had been appointed Royal Agent for Foreign Trade, one of the Crown’s “voices of the ledger”: the people trusted to speak abroad and look after Adon’s interests. She spoke calmly and listened more than she spoke, and when she did speak, her words were measured, never insulting, with a calm and soothing tone.
She always travels light, with a small escort of loyal, well-trained guards, a secretary, and two stevedores who knew the sea routes like the palm of their hands. The message she carried was simple in essence, although it would undoubtedly involve considerable complexity, otherwise they would not have sent her. She had to convince Helvetia to create a stable, secure, and profitable trade route that would supply food to her people.
After her arrival in Helveth and the preliminary formal meetings, she was finally summoned to the main throne room. She entered with the same composure and elegance she would have shown entering Adon’s main throne room, with a steady gait, her head held high and her gaze straight ahead. She neither hurried nor lingered, approaching at the pace of someone who understood that ceremony was a language, and that speaking it correctly prevented subsequent misunderstandings. She simply allowed her interlocutor to observe her for a few moments.
Her escort stopped at the door, keeping his distance and maintaining a calm demeanor. The secretary remained half a step behind her, carrying a thin leather briefcase and a small chest sealed with Adon’s seal. Ragneid herself bowed appropriately, neither servile nor arrogant, and then looked up with that soft, almost reassuring expression that had worked for her so many times before.
Your highness she began talking to the imposing King Markus I, and at a signal from her, her secretary stepped forward to present a folded letter, sealed with wax bearing the roaring bear. “I come as Adon’s envoy, named by the Crown to negotiate an agreement with the generous people of Helvetia for the supply of food to our kingdom. Our northern coasts face a year of scarcity. We have no intention of allowing hunger to become an uninvited guest at our tables.”
