Just as Klein and Ophelia were chatting idly, the sound of carriages came from outside the courtyard.
Both of them instinctively looked toward the manor’s main gate.
The carriages hadn't arrived yet, but judging by the sound, there were quite a few of them.
The sound of wheels rolling over the stone road was very orderly; there were at least four or five.
Moreover, the sound arrived abruptly—there were no prior footsteps or announcements; they simply barged straight to the manor entrance.
Klein set down his teacup, his fingers pausing for a moment on the rim.
At this time of day, the merchant caravans he collaborated with wouldn't usually pass through here.
The nearest trade route was still quite a distance away; unless they made a specific detour, they wouldn't pass through this area at all.
Was it a new merchant group coming to discuss cooperation?
"Those fellows outside... they have some skill."
Ophelia’s voice rang out, her tone very calm.
But Klein noticed that her right hand had habitually pressed against her waist—where her knight’s sword usually hung, though there was nothing there now.
That pale gold dress was not suitable for a sword; the waistband couldn't even support its weight.
She frowned, her fingers lingering for a moment on her empty waist.
Klein glanced at her but said nothing.
The sound of the carriages outside the courtyard grew closer, the wheels crunching clearly over the gravel.
Then came the neighing of horses and the low-voiced reprimands of the drivers.
Martha peeked out from the end of the corridor, still holding a rag in her hand.
"My Lord, are there guests?" she asked in a low voice. "Should I go take a look?"
"No need," Klein waved his hand. "Raymond should have already gone."
Just as he spoke, the steward’s figure appeared at the courtyard entrance.
Raymond walked up to Klein and bowed slightly. His expression remained calm.
"My Lord, a merchant caravan has arrived at the gate. The leader claims to be the head of the 'Silver Scale Chamber of Commerce' and says he wishes to discuss trade matters with you."
"Silver Scale Chamber of Commerce?" Klein thought for a moment, his mind quickly flipping through the list of all the chambers of commerce he had contacted over the years.
He had some impression of the name, but...
"I don't think I have any cooperation with them, do I?"
"They claim to have come from the West Coast." Raymond paused, his gaze becoming more solemn. "There are about a dozen people in the caravan, and they are all carrying weapons. Moreover..."
He lowered his voice.
"The way those people are positioned is very deliberate. They don't look like ordinary guards. They look more like well-trained warriors."
Klein narrowed his eyes.
Carrying weapons was normal.
It would be strange for a merchant caravan traveling long distances not to bring guards.
But the problem was, the phrase "well-trained" implied these weren't ordinary mercenaries or wandering swordsmen.
They were an organized, disciplined group.
A chamber of commerce from the coast...
Klein instinctively looked at Ophelia.
Ophelia was also looking at him.
There was no emotional fluctuation in her golden pupils, but her fingers tightened slightly.
A subtle sense of tension permeated the air.
The warm and gentle spring afternoon from a moment ago suddenly felt heavy.
The fragrance of the roses was still rich, but that sweet scent now smelled somewhat pungent.
Klein remained silent for a few seconds.
"Let them in," he said, his tone as calm as if he were remarking that the weather was nice today. "However, only allow the leader and two followers inside. The others are to wait outside."
He paused and added, "Keep a close eye on them. If anyone approaches the manor walls without permission, take them down immediately."
Raymond nodded, a flash of approval in his eyes.
"Yes."
He turned and left, his footsteps quickly vanishing at the end of the corridor.
Martha was still standing there, the rag in her hand already wrung so hard it was dripping.
She craned her neck toward the courtyard entrance, her face filled with worry.
"My Lord, could they be looking for trouble?" she asked in a low voice. "Should I go and get the kitchen knife?"
"No need," Klein chuckled and waved his hand.
He picked up his teacup and took another sip.
The tea had already cooled slightly, its bitter taste dissolving on the tip of his tongue.
Ophelia stood beside him, silent.
But her stance had already shifted to a new angle—if anyone were to rush in from the gate, she would be the first person to stand in front of Klein.
Klein noticed these details.
He set the teacup down.
He tapped his finger lightly on the rim of the cup, producing a faint sound.
"Relax, they're probably just here to talk business."
He comforted her.
The conversation outside the courtyard stopped.
Then came the sound of leather boots stepping on the ground—very light and rhythmic, like a deliberately controlled pace.
Each step was precise, the intervals almost identical.
Klein placed the teacup back on the tray and tapped the rim with his finger.
Ophelia didn't move. She stood there, her gaze already locked on the courtyard entrance. Her golden pupils narrowed slightly, as if she were assessing something.
Three people appeared there.
The one walking in front was a man, about thirty years old, wearing a deep blue velvet robe.
The collar and cuffs of the robe were adorned with silver shell motifs; they were exquisite, but not excessively so.
The material was high-quality, but the style was not flamboyant.
This attire was just right—displaying wealth without appearing overbearing.
His hair was combed neatly, held in place with some kind of fragrance, and gave off a dark brown sheen in the sunlight.
His face wore a standard merchant’s smile—polite and warm.
But Klein noticed his eyes.
Those eyes were very calm, so calm that they didn't match the state of a merchant who had traveled a long distance to talk business.
There was no fatigue, no urgency, and not even much emotional fluctuation.
He simply surveyed everything in the courtyard calmly, as if he were evaluating it.
The two people following behind him were clearly guards.
One on the left and one on the right, they were tall with broad shoulders.
Their clothes were relatively simple, but the material was good—a durable linen blend suitable for long-distance travel.
Longswords hung at their waists, and the patterns on the scabbards were not common goods.
Klein glanced at the two swords.
They weren't decorations.
There were obvious wear marks on the hilts, signs of long-term handling.
The angle of the scabbards was also very convenient—hanging neither too high nor too low, just at a position that could be easily reached when the arms hung naturally.
This was a habit developed only by those who drew their swords frequently.
Furthermore, the positioning of these two was very deliberate.
One on the left and one on the right, they formed a triangular formation protecting the leader.
Their gaze didn't fall directly on Klein or Ophelia; instead, they were scanning the entire courtyard—exits, cover, and potential sources of threat.
They truly lived up to the description of being well-trained.
Klein tapped the rim of his cup again.
"Lord Klein."
The leading man stopped five paces away from Klein and bowed slightly. His movements were standard, yet neither servile nor overbearing.
"I have long heard of your great name. I am the head of the Silver Scale Chamber of Commerce, Eric Sol."
His voice was steady, devoid of emotion. His speaking speed was neither fast nor slow, and his articulation was clear. That well-trained tone reminded Klein of the etiquette education received by certain noble children.
Klein nodded but didn't respond.
He simply looked at Eric, waiting for him to continue.
Eric didn't seem to mind Klein’s silence.
He straightened up, his gaze sweeping over the roses in the courtyard. His eyes lingered for a moment on the blooming flowers before falling back on Klein.
"Please forgive my unannounced visit," he said, his smile remaining gentle. "Our chamber of commerce has recently been expanding its inland trade routes. We heard that the quality of alchemical products here is quite good, so we came specifically to visit."
His words were seamless.
But Klein heard the problem.
"Expanding inland trade routes"—this sounded reasonable, but if they were truly expanding their routes, why wouldn't they go to the larger towns first? His place was just a remote manor estate; its commercial value was far inferior to the nearby towns.
Unless...
Unless their target was here from the very beginning.
Klein didn't respond immediately. He picked up his teacup and took a light sip. The tea was completely cold, making the bitter taste even more apparent.
Eric’s smile didn't change, but his gaze had already turned toward Ophelia, who was standing beside Klein.
His gaze lingered on Ophelia for a moment.
It was very short, so short it was almost negligible.
But Klein noticed it.
Ophelia noticed it too.
Her fingers tightened slightly inside her sleeves, and her battle qi began to circulate silently. Her golden eyes stared at Eric without looking away. There was obvious vigilance in her gaze, and even a trace of... hostility.
The tension in the air thickened by another degree.
"And this is..." Eric spoke, his tone still gentle.
"My wife," Klein said calmly.
Eric nodded. "So it is the Madam. My apologies for the rudeness."
He withdrew his gaze and looked at Klein again. But Klein noticed that the positioning of the two guards behind him had shifted slightly.
Klein’s heart sank.
These people... they knew Ophelia.
Or at least, they knew who she was.
"Our chamber of commerce mainly deals in maritime goods and magical materials," Eric continued, his tone remaining relaxed. "If My Lord is interested, we can discuss cooperation. I brought some samples with me this time; they are all specialties from the West Coast. Deep-sea pearls, storm shells, and some relatively rare alchemical materials..."
He paused, his smile deepening slightly.
"Of course, if it's inconvenient for you, we can also visit another day. After all..."
His gaze swept over Ophelia again before moving away as if nothing had happened.
"After all, we wouldn't want to disturb the master and madam's leisure."
He spoke very politely.
But Klein could tell.
This person didn't intend to leave.
Or rather, he never intended to leave from the start. His so-called "visit another day" was just a formality.
Klein wasn't in a hurry to respond.
His gaze stayed on Eric for a few seconds before moving to the two guards behind him.
The guards stood straight, their arms hanging naturally, but their backs were tense.
Their breathing was steady and their eyes were focused, as if they were poised to enter battle at any moment.
Klein withdrew his gaze.
He looked back at Eric, this time with a bit more scrutiny in his eyes.
"I wonder where Mr. Eric heard this?" Klein picked up his teacup and blew on it lightly. "My place is just a small location; it shouldn't be enough for a chamber of commerce from the West Coast to make a specific trip."
He emphasized the words "specific trip."
Eric smiled.
"My Lord is too modest," he said. "Your alchemical products are very popular in the nearby towns; naturally, our chamber of commerce has heard of them. Furthermore..."
He paused, a meaningful light flashing in his eyes.
"Furthermore, our chamber of commerce has always valued partners with potential. Even if the journey is long, it is worth a personal visit."
Klein picked up his teacup and took a sip.
The tea temperature was just right, the bitter taste dissolving on his tongue.
He set the teacup down and lightly tapped the table with his fingertip.
What Eric said wasn't entirely a lie—his alchemical products indeed sold well nearby.
Although the volume wasn't large, the quality was excellent, and there were many repeat customers.
In fact, the trend itself was something he had initiated.
It was just that... would a chamber of commerce from the West Coast really make a specific trip for such a small business?
And bring so many "well-trained" guards who were guarded to this extent?
Klein looked up at Eric.
This man smiled naturally and his posture was impeccable. A standard merchant’s demeanor, perfectly polite with nothing to criticize.
"Then let's sit and talk," Klein said, his tone still calm. "Since Mr. Eric is already here, it wouldn't be right for me to refuse directly."
The smile on Eric’s face deepened slightly.
"Thank you for the honor, My Lord."
Raymond walked over from the end of the corridor and brought a chair for Eric.
His movements were still steady, but Klein noticed that he placed the chair further away than usual—perhaps to prevent them from suddenly lunging and attacking?
After thanking him, Eric sat down, and the two guards remained standing behind him.
Their positioning shifted again, and they were now in a spot where they could simultaneously protect Eric and provide quick support.
Even though they were the uninvited guests in this manor, they seemed more on guard than anyone else.
Martha brought a new teacup and teapot, her movements unusually light. She carefully placed the teapot on the table and poured a cup of tea for Eric.
While pouring the tea, her hand trembled slightly.
A bit of tea splashed out, landing on the tray.
"S-sorry..." Martha whispered.
"It's alright," Eric said warmly. "Thank you for your hard work."
Martha quickly retreated to the side, the teapot in her hand still shaking slightly.
Ophelia stood behind Klein, her gaze locked on Eric.
She didn't speak, but Klein could feel her vigilance. That vigilance wasn't just caution toward a stranger, but an instinctive reaction to danger.
It was as if a predator had caught the scent of its own kind.
The courtyard was quiet for a few seconds.
The fragrance of the roses was still rich, but it now felt somewhat cloying.
The sunlight was still warm, but hitting the body, it felt a bit piercing.
Eric picked up the teacup, blew on it lightly, and then took a small sip.
"Good tea," he said, his eyes narrowing slightly as if he were savoring it.
Klein didn't respond.
He simply looked at Eric, waiting for him to get to the main point.
The sense of tension in the air grew thicker and thicker.
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