He tapped the edge of the report. "Besides, Tybalt was never on good terms with Father. Why would we step in now?"
Alf remained silent, waiting as Javier flipped to the next page.
Javier stopped. His eyes narrowed. He lifted one of the printed images, holding it closer. His fingers traced the borders of the Tybalt region, then paused. His expression shifted, detached assessment hardening into sharp, cold focus.
"I'm sorry, Alf," Javier said, putting the report down and leaning back in his chair. "This matter should be handled by Father after all. He's the ruler of this nation. Even if I am the next heir, I don't have absolute authority here."
He exhaled slowly. "Even if I want to help, even after seeing what Turka and Garka are doing to civilians in that report, we still have no legal grounds to interfere in another region's affairs unless they formally request aid."
