Klein didn't need to look back to know who had arrived.
The footsteps stopped two paces behind him. There was no extra movement, nor was there any verbal greeting.
Ophelia simply stood there, quiet, just as she was accustomed to observing the enemy on a battlefield—watching first, then judging.
Eric’s gaze shifted over Klein’s shoulder, briefly landing on the newcomer. His expression didn't change, but his movement of raising his teacup paused for a split second.
Just a split second.
Klein shifted his body slightly, as if making room for the person behind him. The movement was small, as casual as stretching his shoulders, but the intent was clear—sit.
Ophelia didn't move.
She chose to stand.
Klein didn't force the matter.
He broke the sealing wax, pulled out the letter, and unfolded it.
Nelisa’s handwriting was beautiful. She used the business script common on the west coast, with clean, sharp strokes and not a single unnecessary flourish. The ink was even and the line spacing was precise; it was clear that this had not been written in a hurry.
Klein read through it line by line.
The first few paragraphs were pleasantries. She inquired about the recent state of the manor, expressed gratitude for their previous cooperation, and mentioned in passing that the Silver Scale Chamber of Commerce had opened two new trade routes inland, inviting Klein to visit when he had the time. While they were standard formalities, the wording was exquisite and perfectly measured, appearing neither distant nor overly intimate.
Then came the main text.
Klein’s finger paused on the paper.
He tilted the letter slightly higher—not to intentionally show it to anyone, but purely due to the lighting. However, with Ophelia’s eyesight, every word on the letter was crystal clear to her from that distance.
The content of the letter had nothing to do with the west coast.
There was no mention of sea monsters, Silver Scale Harbor, or the samples and research data. From beginning to end, it spoke of only one thing—
Nelisa was inviting Klein and Ophelia to the Empire's Royal Capital.
The reason given was vague. She stated that the chamber had an important matter in the Royal Capital that needed to be discussed in person, and since the details were inconvenient to elaborate upon in a letter, she hoped the two of them could find the time to visit. The phrasing was polite and the posture humble, but the intent of the invitation was unmistakable.
However, in the final paragraph, Nelisa mentioned a name.
“Diancie Julius.”
Although Klein didn't know who this Diancie was, he knew exactly what “Julius” represented.
Royal bloodline.
Klein finished reading the letter and then read it again from start to finish.
He then folded the paper and placed it back into the envelope.
He looked at Eric.
“Were you aware of the contents of Lady Nelisa’s letter beforehand?”
Eric smiled and spread his hands. “The letter was sealed; you must have seen that when you opened it. The wax was intact, and I haven't even touched it. The President told me to deliver a letter, so I delivered a letter. As for what’s written inside—”
He shook his head.
“If I knew everything, the President wouldn't have gone to this trouble.”
Klein watched him for a few seconds.
Eric’s expression was frank. It wasn't a calculated display of innocence, but rather the ordinary awareness of a messenger regarding his scope of duty.
He truly didn't know. Or rather, Nelisa had no intention of letting him know.
Klein didn't press further. He placed the envelope back on the coffee table and tapped his finger twice on the armrest.
“Fine,” he said. “Please take a message back to Lady Nelisa for me—I have received her invitation and will give it serious consideration.”
“Is that all?” Eric asked.
“That is all.”
Eric stood up and straightened the front of his coat with a crisp movement.
“Then I won't disturb you any longer. I was delayed for a few days on the way here, so I need to make up for it on the return trip.”
“Not staying for a meal?” Klein asked casually.
“Thank you for the kind offer, but no,” Eric declined with a smile. “The chamber is waiting for a reply. Leaving a day early means the President can start making arrangements a day sooner.”
As he reached the door, his pace slowed for a beat. It was as if he had remembered something, or perhaps he was hesitating over whether to speak.
In the end, he didn't turn back, but his voice dropped half a tone.
“There was some news on the road; I don't know if it's related to this—scrutiny in the Royal Capital has been very tight lately. They’re checking everything, and merchant caravans entering or leaving the city have to go through an extra layer of verification.”
His tone was casual, as if he were chatting about the weather.
“Just take it as idle gossip.”
He then nodded to Raymond and strode out.
Klein didn't insist further. He nodded to Raymond, who was standing by the door.
Raymond stepped forward and made a gesturing motion with his hand. “Mr. Eric, this way please.”
The footsteps of the two men gradually faded as they went down the hallway.
The guest hall fell silent.
Steam still rose from the teacup. The light outside the window was shifting westward, and the orange afterglow stretched long shadows across the floor through the glass.
Klein didn't move immediately.
He leaned back against his chair, flipping the envelope over in his hand and then back again.
His index finger slowly traced the edge of the envelope, as if feeling an object of uncertain texture.
The Royal Capital.
Nelisa’s power was rooted on the west coast.
Although the Silver Scale Chamber of Commerce had extended its reach inland in recent years, its foundation had always been in the coastal regions.
Her connections, her fleet, and her information network all revolved around that sea.
For her to suddenly go to the Royal Capital and even drag him and Ophelia along—there was a lot to unpack there.
Plus, there was that abrupt name. Nelisa was not someone who did things without a reason. She had included that name specifically to make sure it was remembered.
And then there were Eric’s parting words. Tight scrutiny in the Royal Capital. An extra layer of verification for entry and exit.
A chamber messenger wouldn't say such things just as “idle gossip.”
Klein set the envelope down and tilted his head back.
The chandelier on the ceiling wasn't lit, as it wasn't needed during the day. A thin layer of dust had accumulated on the cast-iron arms; he should have someone wipe it down.
His gaze moved past the lamp arms and fell on the person standing behind him.
From this angle, the lines of Ophelia’s jaw were exceptionally clear. She was looking down at him, her golden eyes reflecting the light from the window. Her hair wasn't tied tightly, and a few strands had slipped down by her ears, resting near her collarbone.
She had finished her sword training not long ago. She had changed into a clean coat, but her collar still held a hint of dampness—looking closely, the right side of the collar was turned out slightly more than the left, suggesting she had dressed in a hurry.
Klein just looked up at her like that, in no rush to look away.
“You saw everything.”
It wasn't a question.
Ophelia gave a single nod.
Klein rested his hands behind his head and shifted into a more comfortable position. The chair tilted back slightly under his weight, letting out a soft creak.
“So, what do you think?”
He asked.
“About going to the Royal Capital—what do you think, Ophelia?”
Ophelia was silent for a few seconds. Her gaze fell on the envelope on the coffee table before shifting away.
“The Royal Capital,” she said. When she spoke those words, her tone was flat, as if she were merely repeating a place name. But her eyes changed. It wasn't hesitation, nor was it avoidance—it was something deep-seated and very old.
Klein looked into her eyes.
There was the orange light from the window, the reflection of the cast-iron lamp stand, and some emotions that he couldn't quite read for the moment.
He let out a smile. It was a faint, subtle one.
“Then let’s go have a look.”
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