April 5th, 1938.
At the Valorian Capital, Volkshalle. Julieanne Carter was walking down the hallway, heading towards Alexander's office. Clutched in her hands was a document containing reports about the diplomatic efforts that were being made to the Kingdom of Zambesi.
Arriving at the door, she knocked gently and spoke.
"Your Excellency, can I come in?"
She didn't hear any response, so she knocked again. "Your Excellency, this is your Chief of Staff, I have a report for you. Can I come in?"
Again, no response. With furrowed brows, she wondered what had happened.
Julieanne tried knocking again for the third time, but before she could complete the motion, the door suddenly swung open. She stumbled forward, almost tripping over her own feet. As she caught herself, she looked up and found herself face-to-face with Alexander.
Their gazes locked, and for a moment, neither of them spoke. The intensity of Alexander's eyes seemed to pierce through her, making her momentarily forget the reason she was there.
"Julieanne," Alexander finally said. "I didn't hear you knock."
Julieanne blinked, regaining her composure. "I... I knocked three times, Your Excellency. I thought something might have happened."
Alexander's expression softened slightly, and he stepped aside to let her enter. "I see... I was busy with something. Come in."
Julieanne entered the office, the grandeur of the room never failing to impress her, even after all the times she had been there. The large windows let in streams of sunlight, illuminating the polished wooden furniture and the shelves lined with books and documents. Alexander's desk was filled with a pile of books.
"May I ask what you are doing, Your Excellency?" Julieanne asked, looking at the pile of books.
"Ah, this?" Alexander said, pressing a hand on the pile of books. "I am learning. As I have told everyone, I don't have experience in running a country, so I figured I'd use my free time to educate myself on the intricacies of governance."
"I will make sure that everyone knows the stake and that all preparations are flawless," Julieanne assured him resolutely.
Alexander nodded and grabbed one of the books from the pile. "If there is nothing else, you may leave Julieanne. I will be returning to my studies."
"I can help you with that, Your Excellency," Julieanne offered, her voice softening slightly. "If you need any assistance with your studies or if there's something you find particularly challenging, I'm here to help."
Alexander looked up from the book he had just picked up, his expression thoughtful. "I appreciate that, Julieanne. I'll keep that in mind. You have matters to attend to anyway."
Julieanne nodded, understanding the subtle dismissal. "Of course, Your Excellency. I'll leave you to your studies then."
She turned and made her way toward the door, pausing briefly as she reached for the handle. "If you need anything, I'll be in my office."
Alexander offered a brief smile. "I'll reach out if anything comes up."
With that, Julieanne quietly left the office, closing the door behind her.
***
Meanwhile, back at the port of Maputo, the bustling activity of the day carried on as usual. Fishermen hauled their nets, merchants peddled their wares, and dockworkers loaded and unloaded cargo from ships.
Amidst the crowd, a lone figure moved calmly, blending seamlessly into the throng of locals. He wore the simple garb of a laborer—worn trousers, a loose shirt, and a wide-brimmed hat that cast a shadow over his face, obscuring his features. To anyone around, he was just another man going about his business, unremarkable in every way.
As he navigated the maze of crates and barrels near the docks, his eyes flicked subtly toward the Valorian fleet anchored nearby.
The man's hand slipped beneath his shirt, fingers brushing against a small, hidden object. He continued walking with a steady pace until he reached a spot where the view of the fleet was unobstructed. He paused there, pretending to adjust his hat while his other hand discreetly pulled out a small, compact camera.
With the camera concealed beneath the fabric of his shirt, he raised it just enough to capture the fleet in its entirety. His thumb pressed down on the shutter, and a barely audible click followed as the camera captured the image. He quickly checked the result through a small slit in the fabric, ensuring the photograph was clear and unobstructed.
Satisfied, he tucked the camera back into its hidden pocket and resumed his walk, as if nothing ever happened.