Chapter 342 - 341. A Reckoning Long Overdue (3)
The conversation had been progressing smoothly, the Lockwoods and the Lewinsteins appearing quite pleased with the news we shared. The evening was filled with pleasantries and careful diplomacy, each party navigating the discussion with a balance of formality and warmth. However, midway through the meal, Angelina hesitantly broached another subject.
"You mentioned that Lady Mirielle is at your territory. Where is that exactly?" Her tone was casual, but I caught the glint of eagerness beneath the carefully crafted nonchalance. "I—I was thinking of exchanging letters with her. If I knew her whereabouts, I could keep in touch."
I exhaled softly, setting down my wine glass with a small smile. "I apologize, my lady, but that would be difficult."
Her brows knit slightly. "Why?"
I took a moment, glancing at the men seated around the table, reading their expressions before I carefully chose my response. "You see, as a merchant, I am constantly on the move. And currently, where we are living is not exactly a place where one could send a letter."
Angelina’s expression faltered slightly, her fingers tightening around the stem of her glass. "Why? Where is she?"
I pressed my lips together before answering, measuring my words deliberately. "I had some business in Sestia, so she is currently there."
The sound of silverware clattering against porcelain echoed through the dining hall, cutting through the carefully maintained air of civility. The room went still. Every head turned toward me in unmasked shock.
"Sestia?" Alan and Gareth spoke at the same time, their voices edged with alarm.
I sighed, allowing a weariness to seep into my expression, though in truth, I had fully anticipated this reaction. "Let me make this clear—I do not belong to either Denril or Sestia. I am a merchant with ties everywhere. I let Mirielle stay here before because she wanted to help the people, but now that her work is done, she is living as I do. I hope there are no misconceptions about our choices."
The tension at the table was palpable. Count Lewinstein exhaled heavily, his shoulders dropping slightly in what appeared to be reluctant acceptance.