When returning to 160 Berkland Street, Klein saw Walter, the steward wearing white gloves, approaching. "Mr. Klein, someone just delivered a business card stating that his employer would like to visit you between four and five," Walter said calmly. Klein thought briefly about who might have come, but couldn't place it, and merely nodded gently. "Who is his employer?" Walter glanced to his left and right, noting that the servants were at a distance, before replying. "Baron Sindler." Baron Sindler... the millionaire who secured his title through the Conservative Party and Duke Negan, one of the most renowned bankers and business leaders in the kingdom? I helped Mrs. Mary purchase shares in Coym Company—his main competitors were he and his associates. Did he personally come to see me for this matter? That’s roughly thirteen thousand pounds—something utterly unnecessary for him. While his thoughts raced, Caine walked toward the staircase leading up to the second floor. Walter fell slightly behind, following with, "Sir, if you'd prefer not to see Baron Sindralas, I'll let him know you were attending the sermon at St. Samuel's Church, which delayed your return—perhaps you'll have to come back quite late." The butler's unspoken implication was that Baron Sindralas, a devoted follower of "The Storm Lord," would not simply come to St. Samuel's Church to see him. Caine paused, smiled gently, and said, "He's a noble of considerable influence in the banking world—our paths will cross again, so we must meet. Yes—then, let's arrange a meeting in the sunniest of the second-floor sitting rooms." — According to Klein’s knowledge, Baron Sindras is the third-largest shareholder of Beckland Bank and the largest shareholder of South Wylde Bank, one of the most influential figures in the banking sector of the Kingdom of Roon. “Yes, sir,” Walter didn’t waste any further words. At 4:10 p.m., Klein met the visitor frequently appearing in newspapers in his prearranged study room. The only difference from his expectations was that after three o’clock, the clouds over Beckland thickened, the sky grew overcast, and a light rain began to fall, no longer bringing the sense of openness and warmth that a bright, sunny day would have. Baron Sindras matched exactly the photographs published in the newspapers—his black hair, streaked with silver, neatly combed, revealing a broad forehead and a slightly higher hairline. His face was round, though lacking sufficient flesh to support it, with prominent cheekbones and well-defined lines of wrinkles throughout. Unlike most men of his age in Run, Baron Sindralas has no beard, his cheeks freshly shaved, and his blue eyes so pale they appear almost colorless. He is accompanied by a personal servant and a bodyguard—both of whom are unremarkable in appearance. The servant's most noticeable feature is a slight thinning of his hair, while the bodyguard, though with a short-cropped haircut, sports a dense beard extending from his ears down to his jaw. "Good afternoon, noble Baron," said Caine, placing a hand to his chest and bowing. Typically, when a host greets a guest, they lean forward and extend their right hand to shake hands; however, in this case, he is addressing a noble, and thus must be more courteous. "Indeed," replied Baron Sindralas, gently nodding and smiling, "you need not be so formal. I should have come to visit you long ago—after all, you are a gentleman who has seen much and knows the southern continent well." After a brief exchange of pleasantries, they each took their seats, while the servant and bodyguard stood at attention beside them. Klein was about to speak when Baron Sindralas said calmly and warmly, "Dantès, I deeply admire someone like you. Not everyone can amass wealth from the turbulent southern continent—this requires not only courage, but the boldness to face difficulties and an extraordinary sense of judgment. When I was on the brink of bankruptcy, I too had intended to start anew in the south, but unfortunately, I was not a courageous man." Though Baron Sindralas had become a noble only later in life, he was not truly of common origin. His曾祖父 and grandfather had accumulated considerable wealth through the development of colonial ventures and maritime trade, becoming highly successful merchants. His father, in turn, invested in industry, building up a strong reputation and establishing numerous factories. By his generation, with a solid foundation of family wealth, he entered the rapidly growing banking sector and became one of Roon's earliest millionaires. During this process, Lord Sindras faced three setbacks, overcoming each one in turn. The most severe of these came when the bank he founded for the southern Wilf people suffered a serious credibility crisis, faced massive withdrawals, and nearly went bankrupt. The conversation has always revolved around my experiences in the southern continent—perhaps this is a hint that he has already begun to suspect something amiss about my background, and is using it as a warning? Hm. He probably never imagined that all the experiences he repeatedly mentioned about the southern continent were entirely fabricated. Internally, Caine chuckled, maintaining a composed and calm demeanor as he responded: "That's not courage—it's recklessness. Most people who go to the southern continent indeed possess an adventurous spirit, but only in this case." Before Lord Sindras could speak, he added with a smile: "I had almost hired Mr. Ribak as my housekeeper, and he said you were an excellent employer." Lord Sindras listened quietly and then sighed, saying: "That is indeed a matter that leaves me rather disappointed." "I am so sincerely hoping that Ribak can continue to serve as my butler, but he simply cannot overcome the contradictions of position." At this point, Baron Sindras looked at the refined and handsome middle-aged gentleman, Doane Thomsen, took the tea brought by the servant, and gently sipped it. "I am also sincerely hoping that we can become friends, and that you will transfer me the 3% share in Coym Company." "I will offer you terms that you cannot refuse." "Well, though—I do have contractual obligations with Madame Mary." Doane Thomsen paused for two seconds, then sighed and smiled. "I highly value credibility." Hearing this response, Baron Sindras showed no sign of annoyance, merely expressing a mix of surprise and curiosity. "Will you not listen to the terms I have to offer?" Doane Thomsen, with his composed demeanor, deliberately smiled wryly and spread his hands. "I'm afraid I may not be able to refuse." "Ah, quite so." Baron Sindralas laughed heartily and slowly rose to his feet, saying, "You're as witty as the reports describe, and you possess a determination that wasn't mentioned in them at all." He glanced at his bodyguard and personal valet, smiled warmly at Doane Thomsen, and said, "Partnering with you is certainly better than competing against you. I must be off now—I have quite a few matters awaiting my attention." Was this a genuine compliment or a subtle hint of threat? Cline, who wasn't an "observer," couldn't decipher such fine nuances and could only respond with some embarrassment: "I share the same feeling. I look forward to the opportunity to collaborate with you in another area." The impeccably dressed Baron Sindralas nodded with a smile, said nothing further, and was escorted out to the main door by Doane Thomsen, his valet, and his bodyguard. As the elegant carriage receded into the distance, the butler Walter suddenly spoke up: "Sir, would you like us to temporarily assign a few additional bodyguards?" Ah? Klein almost didn't catch the meaning of his butler's implication. Seeing his employer's expression remain unchanged, Walter added, "Sometimes, competition in the business world can also pose personal safety concerns." Had the butler picked up the underlying threat in Baron Sindras's tone? Klein gave a slight upward curve to his lips. "I'm not worried about this, because we're in Beckland." I've already registered with the Night Church, and I'm preparing to collaborate with the military—so I'm not afraid of retaliation from the extraordinary realm, nor do I fear things unfolding as they did with Ambassador Indris. After all, Baron Sindras is a well-established, respected figure—someone who wouldn't act so rashly. Klein thought this over silently. As Walter tried to add something more, he chuckled again. "Still, prudence is always a good habit." "Um... we can hire two bodyguards to provide discreet protection, making sure they don't draw attention from the household staff." "Very well, sir." Walter immediately responded. Klein thought for a moment, then added, "Visit the Mahert议员's home and invite him, his wife, and his daughter to dinner at the Intis Serenzo restaurant tomorrow. If they're unavailable, we can reschedule." This was his way of informing Mahert of his intention to undergo a military assessment and complete a small-scale arms transaction. Originally, the most convenient approach would have been to visit Mahert's home personally and casually mention it, but considering the possibility that there might be a "theft" agent among the staff of Haihur—a half-divine entity who could detect the gray mist emanating from him—Klein decided instead to arrange the dinner at the restaurant outside the home. Then, according to Klein's assessment, the one who failed to successfully "infect" Haiyur would be unable to join the effort. ... Hew hid in the shade of the trees, watching a brown carriage move slowly past, turning onto a street in the Queen's District. On the carriage, a clear emblem was visible—a flower combined with two rings—belonging to the Court Marshal of the Kingdom of Ruon, Viscount Stewardford. Finding no new developments, Hew grew discouraged and left his hiding spot, taking a public carriage to return to the Beckland Bridge area, then walking into the East District. Reaching the tavern on Dalavi Street, Hew made his way to the bar, navigating through the drunken patrons, and directly asked the bartender, who was wiping glasses: "Any new assignments?" The bartender immediately smiled: "Yes, the previous case—Walter, the steward who had offered a 200-pound reward for several con artists—has given a new assignment. It's simple: quietly protect his employer for a few days, with a face-to-face discussion on compensation, which will surely be generous. "He was very satisfied with the efficiency of your last task and has specifically instructed us to prioritize our inquiries with you. 'How about it? Are you interested?' Hugh was quite impressed by the butler and his employer, as they had spent a full 200 pounds searching for a fraud who had only deceived them by 1,000 pounds in fabric. Most generous, and paid promptly... Hugh nodded thoughtfully after a brief recollection: 'Yes, certainly.'"