Raymond's movements were absurdly fast.
Klein sat in the dining room, his fork suspended in mid-air with a piece of steaming mutton speared on it.
He blinked as he looked at the thick stack of papers in Raymond's hand.
"You haven't stopped since you went out this morning, have you?"
Raymond stood perfectly straight, but Klein noticed some dust on his cuffs and mud spots on his leather shoes.
This was unlike the usually meticulous Raymond.
"My Lord, I asked a few acquaintances," Raymond said, placing the stack of papers on the table.
"Information on the Silver Scale Chamber of Commerce isn't exactly a secret; a little inquiry is all it takes to gather it."
Klein put down his fork and took the stack of papers.
The parchment was still faintly damp, and the edges were smudged with ink, clearly having been copied just moments ago.
The corners of several pages were crumpled, as if someone had gripped them too tightly.
Klein looked up at Raymond.
The usually calm steward had his brows slightly furrowed, and his lips were pressed into a thin line.
It seemed the results of the investigation weren't great.
Klein flipped to the first page.
It was covered in dense writing—Eric Sol's resume, the inland branch distribution of the Silver Scale Chamber of Commerce, freight routes from the last few months, and several suspicious transaction records marked with red ink.
The handwriting was neat, but some parts were written in such a hurry that the strokes flew off the lines.
"Eric Sol, thirty-two years old, born on the west coast..." Klein read in a low voice, his finger sliding across the paper.
"Joined the Silver Scale Chamber of Commerce ten years ago, became the inland branch manager five years ago."
He looked up and narrowed his eyes: "This man rose quite fast. Reaching the position of manager in ten years isn't common in the chamber."
"Yes," Raymond nodded, a hint of gravity in his tone.
"His family background is very ordinary; his parents were small merchants from the west coast. To reach this position in the Silver Scale Chamber of Commerce, he either has exceptional talent or..."
"Or he has someone backing him," Klein finished the sentence.
Raymond did not deny it.
Klein continued flipping through the pages.
The next few pages were basic information about the Silver Scale Chamber of Commerce—their primary business was sea and land trade, with goods mainly consisting of spices, cloth, rare metals, and various west coast specialties.
The inland branch was responsible for transporting goods from coastal cities to various parts of the interior, and then bringing back grain and ore from the inland.
These things seemed normal, a standard operating model for a merchant guild with nothing special about it.
But when Klein flipped to the last few pages, his movements stopped.
"In the past three months, the freight routes of the Silver Scale Chamber of Commerce have undergone several adjustments," Raymond said beside him, his voice kept very low, as if afraid of being overheard.
"They cancelled several originally stable routes and instead opened up several new ones."
Klein stared at those pages.
Several route changes were marked in red—some routes were cancelled, some were significantly shortened, and several new routes directly bypassed several previously important transit stations.
One of the new routes happened to pass through several small towns near his territory.
Klein's finger tapped lightly on the tabletop twice.
"This is not normal," Raymond said.
"The routes of the Silver Scale Chamber of Commerce have been operating for many years, and every single one was meticulously planned. Changing routes lightly means renegotiating cooperation and redeploying manpower, which is costly. They wouldn't do this without a sufficient reason."
Klein looked up, his gaze turning sharp: "What are they avoiding?"
"Or..." Raymond paused, "what are they searching for."
The air suddenly fell silent for a few seconds.
The only sound in the dining room was the crackling of the firewood in the fireplace.
The afternoon sunlight streamed through the glass windows, casting mottled shadows on the table, but the warmth felt somewhat piercing at this moment.
Klein put down the papers and leaned back in his chair.
"You don't think Eric is here to talk business," he said, his tone calm as if stating a fact.
"At least not just for business," Raymond said.
"The inland branch of the Silver Scale Chamber of Commerce doesn't lack sales points or partners. With their scale and strength, there's absolutely no need to travel specifically to such a..."
He paused, choosing a more tactful way to put it: "...remote territory to seek cooperation with you."
Klein gave a light laugh.
"A remote little place," he repeated the phrase, picking up his teacup for a sip.
"If even you see it that way, outsiders certainly won't take this place seriously."
That being said, Klein knew very well.
The more remote a place was, the easier it was for things to happen.
The Empire's eyes were fixed on the big cities, and the nobles' attention was entirely on the center of power.
As a small country lord, as long as he didn't make too much noise, basically no one cared.
This was both a good thing and a bad thing.
The advantage was freedom; the disadvantage was that if something happened, no one would care, let alone help you.
Klein set down the teacup, the cup and porcelain saucer making a soft clinking sound.
"We'll meet their moves as they come," he said with a hint of lazy composure in his tone.
"If they truly intend to come at us openly, we naturally won't be able to stop them on the surface."
Raymond nodded, a flash of understanding in his eyes.
"However—" Klein paused, "if they actually dare to pull any small stunts in the shadows..."
He looked at Raymond and chuckled.
"Then one can only hope they truly have the skill for it."
Raymond's back straightened even more.
"I understand," he said.
"I will have people watch the movements of the Silver Scale Chamber of Commerce. Every move they make near the territory will be reported to you immediately."
Klein nodded.
"Don't be too obvious," he reminded.
"Eric might not necessarily know we're investigating him. Every extra day we can delay is a win."
"Yes."
Raymond acknowledged the order, picked up the stack of documents, and turned to leave the dining room.
His walking speed was a bit faster than usual, his footsteps echoing in the corridor before gradually fading away.
Klein picked up his fork again and stuffed that already cold piece of mutton into his mouth.
He chewed a few times, barely managed to swallow it, and then looked up at Ophelia sitting opposite him.
Ophelia hadn't spoken the entire time.
She sat very correctly, her spine perfectly straight, her knife and fork held in a disciplined manner, her movements as standard as if she were attending some formal banquet.
But on her plate, the lamb chop was almost untouched, merely cut into several small, neat pieces.
Klein looked at her and suddenly smiled.
"You're nervous again," he said.
Ophelia looked up, her golden eyes meeting his.
"I am not nervous."
"Your knife is about to cut right through the plate," Klein pointed to her dinner plate.
Ophelia looked down and realized her knife was indeed pressing against the plate with so much force that the silver knife was slightly deformed, making a faint creaking sound.
She let go, the cutlery clattering crisply against the plate.
"I'm sorry," she said softly.
Klein waved his hand.
"It's fine," he said, putting down his fork and wiping his mouth with a napkin.
"But you really don't need to worry. Even if Eric has some objective, he won't act so quickly. Merchants value stability above all else."
Ophelia remained silent for a few seconds.
Her fingers rubbed against the tablecloth, her fingertips turning slightly pale.
"What if he really is coming for me?" She looked up, something in her eyes that Klein couldn't quite read.
"What if I bring trouble to you because of me..."
Klein leaned back in his chair and looked at her.
"Then that's our problem," he said, his tone calm but firm.
"I've already said it: you are my wife, and your trouble is my trouble. This isn't just your business."
He paused and added, "Besides, he doesn't know we're on our guard against him yet. In this situation, we have the advantage."
Ophelia looked at Klein, a flash of complex emotion in her golden eyes—uncertainty, unease, and something else that was hard to describe.
"You..." She opened her mouth, her throat feeling as if something were blocked, but in the end, nothing came out.
Klein smiled and picked up his fork again.
"Let's eat," he said, putting a piece of potato into his mouth.
"I have to go to the workshop this afternoon to check things out. That batch of potions I've been refining lately is about ready for results. Do you want to come along?"
Ophelia was stunned for a moment.
"I... can I?"
"Of course," Klein said.
"It's better than idling around. I can give you a basic introduction to alchemy while I'm at it, so I don't have to spend ages explaining what I'm doing every time you ask me later."
Ophelia looked at Klein, a soft light finally appearing in her golden eyes.
She lowered her head, picked up her fork, and gently sliced a small piece of mutton, putting it into her mouth.
"Yes," she said quietly but earnestly, "I want to go."
Klein smiled and didn't say more.
The dining room fell silent again, save for the soft clinking of cutlery against porcelain and the crackling of the firewood in the fireplace.
Sunlight streamed through the window, casting warm spots of light on the table.
But Klein knew this peace wouldn't last long.
The undercurrents were already surging; they just hadn't surfaced yet.
Rate on N.U.
