Three days passed quickly.
Morning sunlight spilled over the manor’s cargo yard, and the air was filled with the scent of earth and timber, mixed with the faint smell of fodder from the distant stables.
The Silver Scale Chamber of Commerce’s fleet arrived on schedule.
Five carriages stopped neatly at the entrance of the cargo yard, their wheels kicking up fine dust that formed pillars of gold in the morning light.
The drivers were all ordinary men wearing coarse cloth clothing, their faces marked by exposure to the elements; they looked no different from any other merchant group.
Klein stood at the edge of the yard with his hands in his pockets, squinting as he studied the convoy.
The morning breeze blew past, lifting the corners of his coat.
Raymond stood half a step behind him, his eyes sharp as a hawk as he scanned every carriage, every driver, and even the condition of the horses and the age of the harnesses.
"Begin the inspection," Klein said calmly.
Raymond nodded and signaled the prepared servants to step forward.
The goods were unloaded box by box.
Wooden crates, hemp sacks, bundled cloth, and several sealed ceramic jars were brought out.
Everything was meticulously checked, even the ropes used for packaging were untied and re-examined.
The servants moved quickly but cautiously, having clearly undergone specialized training.
Klein walked to the nearest wooden crate and crouched down.
Inside was a specialty of the west coast—sea salt, with uniform grains and a pure white color that shimmered under the sun. He reached out to pinch a bit, bringing it to his nose.
There was no unusual odor.
Even the briny smell of seawater was very faint.
It was just ordinary, finely processed sea salt.
Klein’s brow furrowed slightly.
He pinched a few more grains, rubbing them between his fingertips to feel the texture and temperature.
It was too clean.
It was so clean it didn't seem like goods transported from the seaside.
"Master," Raymond approached, his voice kept low enough that only Klein could hear, "I haven't found any issues so far. I can't detect any magical fluctuations or cursed auras."
Klein stood up and brushed the salt from his hands, the white powder scattering in the air.
"Continue," he said without much inflection. "Check every item. Do not miss a single detail."
"Yes."
The inspection lasted nearly two hours.
Every piece of cargo was opened, and every package was dismantled.
The ceramic jars were opened one by one, revealing pickled sea fish and shellfish that gave off a rich scent of spices.
The cloth was unfurled and checked against the sunlight for hidden runes or secret marks.
Even the floorboards of the carriages were lifted and checked, the gaps between the planks thoroughly probed.
There was nothing.
No suspicious runes, no strange auras, and nothing that exceeded the scope of normal trade.
It was just a batch of goods that were as ordinary as could be.
Klein walked up to the lead driver of the convoy.
He was a middle-aged man with dark skin and hands covered in calluses, clearly someone who performed physical labor year-round. Seeing Klein approach, he quickly removed his hat and lowered his head respectfully, revealing graying hair.
"My Lord," his voice was somewhat raspy.
"Hard work," Klein said with a gentle smile. "The goods are fine. We will settle the payment as agreed."
The driver’s face immediately broke into a smile—a heartfelt, simple joy.
"Thank you, My Lord! Thank you!" He bowed repeatedly. "You are truly a good man. May the gods bless you."
Klein nodded with a smile and turned to leave.
Raymond followed behind him, their footsteps making dull thudding sounds on the wooden planks of the yard.
They walked to a corner of the cargo yard where a temporary wooden hut had been built to store ledgers and payments.
The light inside the hut was dim, with only a small window letting in a beam of sunlight.
The moment the door closed, the smile on Klein’s face vanished.
"Is it really fine?" he asked, his voice carry a hint of gravity.
Raymond was silent for a few seconds, his eyes—which had witnessed countless life-and-death situations—flashing with thought.
"On the surface, there are indeed no problems," his tone was cautious, every word carefully weighed. "I used several detection tools given by the master, and none of them reacted. The goods, the drivers, the horses—they are all ordinary."
"However..."
"However what?" Klein turned to look at his father’s most trusted comrade-in-arms.
"It is too normal," Raymond said in a low voice. "So normal that it feels abnormal."
He paused, his gaze becoming even sharper.
"Either they really just want to do normal business and are using this batch of goods to test our attitude, or..."
"Or their methods are so sophisticated that even my tools can't detect them," Klein finished the sentence.
The two looked at each other, both seeing the same wariness in the other's eyes.
Klein walked to the window and looked out at the cargo yard through the wooden frame.
The drivers were counting their payment, their faces full of satisfied smiles. The sunlight fell on them, illuminating their rough features and simple grins. Everything looked so peaceful and normal.
It was so normal it was unsettling.
"Maybe they just want to conduct a normal business transaction," Klein said with a hint of self-mockery.
"You don't believe that," Raymond said firmly—it was a statement, not a question.
"Of course I don't," Klein turned around, his lips curling into a cold arc. "But now is not the time. Since they want to act, let them act. I want to see how long this play can last."
He walked back to the table and picked up the ledger, flipping through it as his fingers slid gently over the pages.
"Keep people watching this batch of goods, especially the sea salt and the ceramic jars," Klein said, the sound of the ledger closing exceptionally clear in the quiet hut. "Monitor them twenty-four hours a day without interruption. If there is any abnormality, even a trace of magical fluctuation, report it immediately."
"Yes," Raymond nodded. "I will personally arrange for the most reliable people."
"Also," Klein looked up, "have the people sent to the west coast returned?"
Raymond’s expression changed slightly as he shook his head.
"Not yet. However, messages have been coming back constantly." He paused. "The last contact was three days ago. They said Silver Scale Harbor looks very ordinary; besides being a prosperous port, they found nothing unusual."
"They decided to wait a little longer to personally witness the situation on the night of the full moon."
Klein nodded and said no more.
He walked to the window and looked up at the sky.
The sun was bright and there wasn't a cloud in sight.
But Klein knew that tonight was the night of the full moon.
Would the answer be revealed tonight?
He asked himself in his heart.
It likely wasn't that simple.
The sound of carriages leaving drifted in from outside, wheels grinding against the ground as they moved further away. The laughter and chatter of the drivers also gradually faded into the wind.
The cargo yard returned to silence.
Only the wind blew, stirring up dust on the ground that scattered in the sunlight like countless tiny golden spirits dancing in the air.
Klein stood by the window, motionless as a statue.
He was waiting.
Waiting for the final calm before the storm.
...
Morning came the following day.
Klein had just sat down at the dining table and hadn't even had time to pick up his cutlery when Raymond pushed the door open and entered.
The steward’s face didn't look good; in fact, it looked quite terrible.
That face, which usually maintained a perfect steward's expression, was now written with gravity.
"Master, the people sent to the west coast have gone missing."
Klein’s hands holding the cutlery paused.
He didn't speak immediately, but instead continued to cut a piece of bread, his movements remaining calm as if what he had just heard was mere small talk about the weather.
But Ophelia could sense that his thoughts had already drifted to the west coast.
Missing.
The weight of these words was heavy—terrifyingly so.
Ophelia put down her glass, her golden eyes looking at Raymond as her gaze sharpened.
"Are there any clues?" Her voice was calm, but that pressure unique to a knight had already begun to radiate from her. "Did they send any messages before they vanished? Don't leave out any details."
Raymond shook his head, his expression becoming even more somber.
"Nothing. They said they were going to witness the night of the full moon, and after that, no news ever came."
He paused, his voice dropping even lower.
"Our people went to verify, and there were no traces left at the contact point either."
Klein swallowed the bread and picked up a napkin to slowly wipe his mouth.
"Who was sent?" His voice was calm, but those who knew him understood that the more he acted this way, the more he was suppressing something.
"It was Karl and two of his subordinates," Raymond said. "All are reliable men who have been with me for many years. They are cautious and highly alert; they wouldn't expose themselves easily."
Klein nodded.
He knew Karl; he was one of the most stable people under Raymond’s command.
He had once traveled the continent with his father and Raymond, witnessing true danger—the kind of veteran who had caution carved into his bones.
For such a person to go missing...
It meant the waters at the west coast were deeper than imagined—so deep the bottom couldn't be seen.
"Should we send another group over?" Raymond asked, though his tone already carried hesitation.
He knew very well that sending ordinary people again would likely just be sending them to their deaths.
Just as Klein was about to speak, Ophelia spoke first.
"I’ll go."
She stood up, her left hand pressing down on the table.
The morning light spilled through the window onto her, illuminating her golden hair and those equally golden eyes. At this moment, she radiated an aura of awe-inspiring power, like a warrior about to go to war.
Klein looked up at her.
Ophelia’s expression was calm, but something firm was hidden in those golden eyes—the sense of responsibility and mission belonging to a knight.
"Are you sure?" Klein asked, a hint of complexity in his voice.
"I’m sure," Ophelia said, her tone without the slightest hesitation. "If this really is related to the Sea God cult, ordinary people will only die. Someone with sufficient strength needs to investigate."
She spoke very bluntly, without any embellishment.
Raymond did not argue.
Because this was the truth—a cruel but real truth.
Klein was silent for a few seconds and then smiled.
"Then I’m going too."
Ophelia froze for a moment, her golden pupils contracting slightly.
"You?" For the first time, a clear emotional ripple appeared in her voice. "Klein, this is dangerous."
"Yes, me." Klein stood up, brushed the breadcrumbs off his hands, and walked to Ophelia’s side. "You didn't think I’d let you go alone, did you?"
His tone was light, but his gaze was serious.
Ophelia furrowed her brow, her golden eyebrows shimmering with a faint luster in the sunlight.
"It will be very dangerous for you to go," she repeated, her voice carrying a rare hint of anxiety. "I can protect myself, but if I also have to be distracted with protecting you..."
"It won't be dangerous for you if you go?" Klein asked in return, his voice gentle but firm. "Ophelia, the pollution in your left hand has not yet completely stabilized. If you encounter power related to the Sea God, it is very likely to trigger a resonance. When that happens, who will protect you?"
Ophelia opened her mouth to argue but found herself unable to speak.
Because Klein was right.
Her left hand was indeed a liability, especially when facing power from the same source.
Klein walked to her side and reached out to gently pat her shoulder.
"Don't treat me like a vase that needs protection," he said, his lips curling into a smile. "Though I’m certainly not as good as you at fighting, I have some confidence when it comes to the skill of staying alive and predicting danger."
"See, the incense I gave you can block the evil god’s influence on you, right?"
He paused, his voice becoming even gentler.
"Besides, we are husband and wife. When there is danger, we should face it together, shouldn't we?"
The Knightess seemed to be quite susceptible to this; she eventually nodded and spoke softly.
"Fine."
Raymond stood to the side watching them, looking as if he wanted to say something but was holding back.
He opened his mouth and finally voiced the concern in his heart.
"Master, if both you and Miss Ophelia go, the manor..."
"I’m leaving the territory to you," Klein turned around and looked at his father’s most trusted friend. "Do what needs to be done; don't worry about us. You know better than anyone how to handle things."
Raymond fell silent.
He stood there, his gaze moving from Klein to Ophelia’s face and back again.
In those eyes that had seen countless deaths, there was a hint of scrutiny and deep worry.
After a long while, he spoke.
"Madam." His voice was steady, but every word carried weight. "Though I have long heard of your strength and know that you once achieved great feats on the west coast battlefield, regarding the Master’s safety..."
He paused, his gaze becoming even sharper.
"I need to see it for myself."
The air seemed to freeze for an instant.
Ophelia blinked, a flash of surprise appearing in her golden pupils, followed by understanding.
"You want to fight me?" Her tone was calm, without anger; instead, it carried a hint of admiration.
Raymond did not deny it, simply nodding slightly.
Klein laughed from the side, the sound breaking the heavy atmosphere.
"Raymond, are you saying you don't trust my judgment?" His tone carried a hint of teasing, but his eyes were full of understanding and agreement.
"It’s not that I don't trust you," Raymond turned to look at Klein, his expression still solemn. "I just need to confirm. Your father entrusted you to me, so I must ensure your safety. This is my responsibility."
He spoke very seriously—the kind of seriousness that one could not argue against.
Ophelia looked at the steward and was silent for several seconds.
She could understand Raymond’s feelings. As someone who took protecting Klein as his lifelong mission, he had the right and the responsibility to confirm the strength of his companion.
This wasn't a lack of trust, but being responsible.
"Very well," Ophelia nodded, her voice calm and firm.
"When?"
"Now," Raymond said. "In the courtyard will be fine."
His gaze became sharp—the gaze of a warrior facing a warrior.
Klein looked at them, the smile on his face deepening.
"Then I’ll go prepare some tea and snacks," he said. "I can eat while I watch."
Ophelia turned to glance at him, a flash of helplessness in her golden eyes.
But her lips unconsciously curled into a tiny arc.
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