The first thing Maria noticed when stepping out of the carriage wasn't the cheering crowd, or the guards in polished uniforms, or even Justinian waiting with that annoyingly calm smile of his.

It was the air.

It smelled like something new.

Freshly carved stone. Roasted cinnamon bread. Melted snow on sunlit tiles. Not quite capital-styled elegance, yet far from anything resembling a frontier town. Snowkeep smelled like a city that had just woken up… and was excited about it.

"Oh my," she breathed, not bothering to hide her surprise as she leaned over the carriage step just a little too eagerly. "You have shops now. Real ones. And—are those… pastry stalls?"

Justinian looked like a man both proud and deeply amused.

"Welcome to Snowkeep," he said. "As you can see, we've mastered the art of feeding tourists sugar until they start worshipping the local economy."

Maria grinned, and that was when he remembered, Maria didn't smile like nobles did. She smiled like someone whose thoughts always ran faster than her manners.

"It's working," she said. "I already feel dangerously faithful."

The palace was less of a throne hall and more of… a gathering place.

Courtiers weren't stiff, ministers weren't overly ceremonial, and the hallways had far too many maps, blueprints, and scribbled notes pinned to walls to qualify as aristocratic decor. Justinian's palace felt slightly chaotic, lived-in, and alive, like it occasionally hosted state meetings, but also the occasional argument about irrigation systems.

Maria loved it.

"This is very…" she said, turning in a slow circle as they passed through the main gallery.

"Unnoble?" Justinian offered with a smirk.

"Pragmatic," she corrected, brushing her fingers along a huge mural of the siege, not the stylised heroic version she was used to, but one showing damage, desperation, exhaustion, resilience.

"You didn't paint yourself as a saint in it," she said, somewhat surprised.

"Saints don't build drainage systems," he replied.

She laughed, genuinely, brightly, and startled two passing scribes.

"You are not what I expected," she said after a while.

"You expected arrogance?"

She paused.

"No. I expected you to be tired." She looked around, at walls repaired, homes rebuilt, nobles conversing with craftsmen like equals, and children in the courtyard chasing Cassia's conjured floating frost wisps. "But I don't see exhaustion here. I see momentum."

"That reminds me... how in the world did you get a mural painted so fast?"

"It wasn't me, my citizens handed it to me as a gift."

"That's new... and he didn't ask for anything?"

"No."

Maria raised a brow, but easily shrugged it off and continued to smile, scurrying to every part of the palace as Justinian helped guide her on their daily routine.

"You're catching the eyes of most of my servants."

"Even if I act normal, I'll still get attention, it's better if I just be myself."

"Right... why are you here anyway?"

Maria stopped slightly at Justinian's question, but in an instant, switched to a near devilish look that betrayed her innocent face.

It was clear she was starting to learn some stuff from Justinian on how to become an effective ruler.

"For most, a simple winter vacation, but to a select few? A vacation and a way to build up my own faction."

Eventually, they ended up in the duke's study, with Darius immediately jumping out of his chair the moment he saw the princess herself enter.

"W-What!?"

Maria had a wave of familiarity the moment he saw Darius, remembering seeing him as one of the highest scorers in the past, back in the imperial examination for new nobles, a potential recruit to the king's council if he hadn't refused the offer.

"Lord Reinhardt?"

"E-Excuse me, my lady... but I have other business to attend to."

Darius left the room, his face as red as the freshest tomato, causing Justinian to chuckle audibly.

"The effect you have on men is terrifying."

Maria sighed at Justinian's tease. "It's not like I'm being flirty..."

"Also... why did you bring me here?"

"I thought it would be the perfect place for you." Justinian grabbed a copy of the compendium, one of the first original copies that was made.

The same book that Maria saw was being taught on the streets when she had ridden our carriage.

"That book, what is it?"

"It's on the name itself... a compendium of knowledge, it's mandatory for all my citizens to learn it."

He tossed the wide book to Maria; it was only part one of the entire actual thing, yet its size already suggested the full contents would be big enough to be as huge as an entire palace if crammed into one.

"Take one, and if you can, I suggest not sharing it with anyone."

Justinian then headed to the desk itself, showing papers of the census. "And if you like more details, you can check here how I managed to reform my capital."

The entire time Maria had her eyes swirling, she was smart, sure, but she wasn't an actual ruling monarch, just a smart princess who helped his father from time to time.

Everything here was an influx of knowledge she quite literally didn't need nor will probably use.

She was quite literally in the last line of succession, and she wasn't keen on inheriting the throne.

And while Justinian was still showing her around, the moment Justinian turned to face her again, he felt a sting on his forehead as Maria casually flicked it with her fingers.

"Don't get too ahead of yourself."

She pouted.

'Right... I keep forgetting she isn't an ambitious warlord like almost everyone I've ever met.'

"Are you even listening to me?"

"Loud and clear, your majesty."

Maria didn't bother to read the census sheet he had left in front of her.

She simply turned it upside down.

Then she sat on his desk. Not beside it. Not near it. Right on top of his paperwork with a controlled, regal sort of defiance that only a princess could legally commit.

"I'm not here to steal your reforms," she said.

Justinian stared at her, half amused, half appalled. "You're on my agricultural tax records."

"I'm here," she continued calmly, "to understand what kind of ruler you are becoming."

That shut him up.

For a moment, at least.

She leaned back slightly, hands braced on the edge of the desk, looking more like a scholar than a royal. Her voice was gentler now, less teasing, more curious.

"You're doing something no one else in the empire is doing," she said. "Not conquering. Not bargaining. Not flattering noble courts or buying their loyalty…"

She gestured vaguely toward the window, where laughter from Snowkeep's courtyard echoed in.

"You're… constructing."

She said it like she was still figuring the word out.

Not building. Not governing.

Constructing.

"Cities. Systems. People," she murmured.

Justinian exhaled slowly.

"That sounds poetic... I think," he muttered.

"Take the compliment," she chuckled.

He fell silent, leaning against the edge of the desk as well. The room was quiet, but not awkward. The silence carried… something.

Respect, maybe.

Or something very close.

Finally, she turned, legs crossed, expression back to playful.

"Besides," she added, "I don't need your census records. I already figured it out."

Justinian raised a brow.

"Oh?"

Maria placed one finger on the desk, tapping lightly with a soft rhythmic pattern.

"The birds."

He blinked. "The birds?"

"The birds," she repeated, as if it was obvious. "Snowkeep has more birds than any other capital I've been to."

Justinian stared. Hesitant. Possibly concerned for her sanity.

Maria continued, confident as ever. "Cities thriving on trade and migration always have more bird activity. Carts drop feed. Markets leave crumbs. New roofs, new perches. And your birds?" She pointed outside. "They're not scavengers. They're nesters."

He looked.

There were nests on renovated rooftops, on aqueduct ledges, on lamp posts, on the new library's columns.

Nest-building birds.

Birds that stayed.

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