A three-day journey took a full three and a half days.
The reason was a landslide on the official road on the second afternoon, just past the midway transit station. A good half-mile of the road was buried under rubble and earth, making it impassable for the carriage and forcing them to take a detour through a stretch of rural backroads.
The condition of those rural roads was exactly as one might imagine—Klein felt as though his internal organs had been completely rearranged inside the carriage.
Ophelia remained unfazed throughout the journey; she was even reading a book during the worst of the jolting.
The constitution of a knight—or perhaps the adaptability forged through years of military marches—was excessively apparent in situations like this.
Klein felt a twinge of envy.
They arrived at the Royal Capital in the evening.
The sun had already dipped behind the city walls, leaving only a final lingering glow that burned the horizon into a fiery orange-red. The city gates were still open, and the line to enter was a long, chaotic tangle of merchant caravans, pedestrians, mounted messengers, and farmers driving ox carts.
The walls of the Royal Capital were even higher than Klein had imagined.
They were built from massive blocks of grayish-white stone, the seams filled with a faint, shimmering substance—likely a grouting material imbued with basic defensive spells. Two rows of soldiers stood atop the gate tower, their armor polished to a high sheen and their spears pointed toward the sky at perfectly even intervals.
The face of the Empire—they certainly didn't mind spending money on it.
“First time here?” Ophelia asked, lifting the carriage curtain to glance outside.
“First time,” Klein admitted honestly. “How about you?”
“I don't remember.” She lowered the curtain. “Investitures, debriefings... I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve come here. But this time—I’m here to accompany you.”
Her tone was flat, but Klein noticed her pull her cloak tighter over her shoulders, concealing her left hand.
The Royal Capital was full of prying eyes. This habitual little movement showed that she was already on high alert.
It took nearly an hour of waiting in line to enter the city. When their turn finally came, the guards inspected their travel documents and poked their heads into the carriage. Their gaze lingered for a moment on the long sword at Ophelia’s waist.
“Weapons must be registered.”
Ophelia reached into her cloak, pulled out a medallion, and flipped it over to show the other side.
The soldier’s expression shifted instantly. He snapped to attention, gave a sharp salute, and waved them through.
Klein waited until the carriage was moving again before asking, “What medallion was that?”
“An honorary knight’s passage emblem. It allows me to carry a sword within the Royal Capital without being restricted or searched.” She tucked the medallion away, adding, “One of the few actually useful privileges.”
Klein didn't reply, but reached out to squeeze her right hand as it rested by her side.
Ophelia didn't look back, but her fingers shifted, interlacing with his.
Both of them held on tightly, as if afraid the other might get lost in the crowd.
They had traveled less than two blocks past the city gates when the carriage came to a halt.
Nelisa was waiting at the intersection.
Behind her stood four people, two men and two women, all wearing uniform attire—staff from the Silver Scale Chamber of Commerce.
Nelisa herself wore a dark gray dress, far more understated than the one she had worn when they met at Silver Scale Harbor. Her hair was still pinned up, but the bun was devoid of any ornamentation.
This was the Royal Capital, after all; being too ostentatious was never a good thing. Klein nodded inwardly—this businesswoman certainly knew how to read a room.
“Mr. Klein, Ms. Ophelia.” Nelisa walked to the carriage and gave a graceful, proper bow. “You must be exhausted from the journey.”
“It wasn't too bad,” Klein said as he stepped out, turning back to offer Ophelia a hand. “Except for that last detour. The jolting was so bad I suspect my spine has aged ten years prematurely.”
Nelisa smiled. “That landslide was reported last month, but the Royal Capital’s engineering teams are booked through the month after next.”
“Splendid efficiency.”
“That’s the Empire for you.”
The two exchanged a knowing look.
Ophelia stood half a step behind Klein, her gaze sweeping over Nelisa’s face before scanning the four people behind her. She said nothing, but her scrutinizing posture was an attitude in itself.
She was just a little unhappy about the look Klein and Nelisa had shared.
Well... only a little.
She would just have to find a way to get that happiness back from Klein later.
Even Nelisa failed to notice this subtle shift. She simply introduced the people beside her: “These are members of the chamber responsible for our daily affairs here in the Royal Capital. Their backgrounds have already been thoroughly vetted.”
Klein and Ophelia gave a slight nod of acknowledgment.
The Silver Scale Chamber of Commerce’s base in the Royal Capital was located in the eastern part of the inner city. It was a three-story stone building that looked unremarkable from the outside, with a narrow storefront squeezed between a tailor shop and a spice shop.
However, the interior revealed a world of its own. The front hall was two stories high with dark wooden flooring, several nautical charts hung on the walls, and a waist-high bronze globe stood in the corner, polished so brightly it reflected everything like a mirror.
The backyard was even larger, featuring independent guest rooms, a kitchen, and even a small guest hall.
“Your rooms are on the second floor, south-facing and quiet.” Nelisa led them upstairs and pushed open a door. “Toiletries and fresh clothes have been prepared. If you need anything else, just let us know.”
Klein peeked inside—the room wasn't huge, but it had everything they needed. The bedding was clean, and a pot of hot tea with two cups sat on the table. Through the open window, he could see a pomegranate tree growing in the courtyard.
He glanced back at Ophelia. She walked in, circled the room, pressed her fingers against the window frame, and examined the structure of the door lock and bolt. Then she walked to the wall and rapped it twice with her knuckles.
The sound was solid. Thick walls.
The soundproofing should be quite good.
For no reason at all, Klein felt his ears grow warm and quickly turned his attention back to Nelisa.
“Alright, this is great,” he cleared his throat. “Miss Nelisa, there's no rush to rest. Let's talk first. Your letter was brief—what exactly is the situation?”
Nelisa nodded and led them to a meeting room at the end of the second floor. Once the door was closed, she dismissed her subordinates, leaving only the three of them.
A fresh pot of tea was brought in. Nelisa personally poured three cups and pushed them toward the two of them.
“I’ve invited you to the Royal Capital because there is indeed a matter to discuss.” She sat down, her hands clasped on the table. “The chamber is currently negotiating a series of collaborations with the Royal Family—increasing investment in the governance of the West Coast, including port repairs, channel clearing, and garrison supplies. In exchange, the chamber hopes the Royal Family will grant us greater trade operating rights and sea passage rights.”
Klein picked up his teacup and took a sip, not rushing to speak.
He had long expected Nelisa to have such ambitions.
The Silver Scale Chamber of Commerce was already the dominant commercial force on the West Coast. After the Silver Scale Harbor incident, several smaller coastal chambers had either been swallowed up or had proactively sought alignment with them, and Nelisa’s territory had been expanding ever since.
But once commercial expansion reaches a certain point, a bottleneck appears—without official endorsement, many things lack legitimacy.
So, she wanted to secure a bigger hand from the Royal Family.
The logic was sound, and the path was clear.
But the question was—
“What does this have to do with us?” Klein set down his teacup. “You’re negotiating business with the Royal Family. I’m just a minor rural noble; I can’t be of much help.”
He spoke bluntly. It wasn't false modesty; he truly wanted to know where he fit into this game.
Ophelia also looked at Nelisa, her gaze calm but focused.
Nelisa smiled—the kind of perfectly measured smile honed in the business world. However, unlike the condescending confidence she had shown at Silver Scale Harbor, this time her posture was much humbler.
“Mr. Klein, you're being far too modest.” She picked up her own teacup, not drinking, but simply holding it. “A minor rural noble wouldn't be able to resolve the sirens and supernatural occurrences of the West Coast.”
Klein’s finger tapped lightly on the tabletop.
He smiled and didn't offer a rebuttal.
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