Lord of Caldera

Following Leon, Sylas entered the count's mansion. The mansion was about the same size as Count Corleone's estate. When they reached the parlor, the door opened to reveal three people who had already arrived: Walter Vindeln and two other young men in their early twenties. While Walter seemed surprised, the other two scowled at Sylas.

"Who's this? A face I haven't seen before," one of them said.

"Leon, aren't you the representative this time?" said the other, his tone less than polite. It was clear that none of them particularly liked each other.

"Do you fools not know manners? Is that any way to address someone you've just met?"

"Ridiculous. Why should we show respect to someone from the Winslow family?" one of the young men sneered.

"Apologies, but he's not one of us," Leon replied calmly.

"What? Then who on earth is he?" asked the two bewildered young men, looking at Leon in confusion.

Leon confidently raised his voice, "He is Sir Sylas Corleone, a knight and son of the Corleone family. Show him the proper respect."

"Greetings. I'm Sylas Corleone, here as an ally of the Winslow family," Sylas said with a respectful bow after Leon's introduction. Blinking in surprise for a moment, the two young men soon scowled at him.

"Corleone? You mean that famed sword family rumored to carry the dragon's blood?" one of them scoffed.

"Tch. Calling in someone from the East to meddle in Western affairs? How pathetic," muttered the other, unimpressed despite the reputation of the Corleone family.

The two young men, unphased by Sylas's introduction, even seemed emboldened as they glared at him coldly.

"Well, I suppose an introduction is in order. I'm Stefan Ansbach."

"And I'm Damian Orthus. Remember, Corleone, you're in the West here," Damian added, his tone icy. At their reactions, Sylas's gaze flickered with irritation.

"They think they can say anything just because we're far from home," he mused, sensing their confidence. It was obvious; they felt safe to hurl insults, assuming the distance would protect them. Undoubtedly, they also hoped to chip away at the Winslow family's reputation. Sylas turned his eyes toward Walter, who stood silently nearby.

"Westerners certainly seem confident. Do you also believe I don't belong here, Sir Walter?" Sylas asked pointedly.

Walter flinched. Why was he being dragged into this? He hadn't said a word! What frustrated Walter even more was the response of the two beside him.

"Of course! Western matters should be handled by Westerners. What need is there for an external helper like yourself to be here?" Stefan said.

"Exactly! Come on, Walter, say something. Aren't you a son of the West, too?" Damian added, nudging him to join in.

"Shut up! For heaven's sake, just shut up!" Walter thought in exasperation. He understood they wanted to unite in mocking Winslow, and, usually, he would have joined in gladly. But if joining in meant insulting Sylas, it was a different matter. Sylas had monsters under his command—who would dare provoke him?

"Come on, Walter! Speak up!"

"What's the matter, cat got your tongue?" they continued to prod. Find more chapters on My Virtual Library Empire

"Damn it…!" With no choice but to say something, Walter cleared his throat and replied.

"Ahem. I believe we should show proper respect. He's a knight who came all the way to the West to fight those detestable elven bastards, a model for all knights. There's no need to insult him," he said, begrudgingly standing up for Sylas.

"...!?" Damian and Stefan stared at him, dumbfounded, as if he'd lost his mind. Walter could only look at them in frustration. Couldn't they see the danger?

"What are you talking about—"

At that moment, the door to the parlor opened. All four nobles jumped to their feet in surprise.

"Greetings, Your Excellency!" they said in unison.

Sylas joined them in greeting, quickly assessing the man before him.

"So, this is the head of the Hernig family," he noted.

Valdemar Hernig. In his previous life, Sylas had barely heard anything about him, as he had died early on. However, facing him now, there were a few things Sylas could immediately tell.@@novelbin@@

"A typical military man," he thought.

Sun-darkened skin, muscles evident even under his clothes, calloused palms, and sharp eyes—this was clearly a commander who led from the front lines.

"Welcome, young ones. I'm pleased to see every one of you has answered the call for reinforcements," the count said, his deep voice resounding in the room.

"It's our duty, Your Excellency."

"How could we forget your benevolence, sir?" other family members chimed in eagerly.

After nodding at them, the count glanced at Leon.

"It's unfortunate, though. It seems the Winslow family has fallen on hard times. I should have taken more care."

"S-Sorry, Your Excellency," Leon stammered, his face flushing in embarrassment as the count pointedly remarked on Winslow's lack of troops. At Leon's reaction, the other young nobles' lips curled into slight smirks, reveling in his discomfort.

After watching Leon for a moment, the count's gaze shifted to Sylas.

"And who might you be? I don't believe we've met," he said.

"I'm Sylas Corleone, Your Excellency. Here as an ally of the Winslow family," Sylas responded respectfully.

"Sylas Corleone? Sylas Corleone…" The count's piercing gaze scrutinized Sylas as if appraising an unfamiliar item. Noticing the count's interest, Damian took the opportunity to interject.

"Your Excellency! Western matters should be resolved by Westerners. How can we allow an outsider from the East to interfere?" Damian's tone implied as if Sylas's presence was a violation of local affairs. Though Leon was frustrated, Stefan took it a step further.

"Exactly, Your Excellency! Even if we accept that he's here now, we should still hold the Winslow family accountable," he insisted.

Leon's brow twitched as he watched them seize on the slightest pretext to make trouble. The two young men then shot Walter a look as if to urge him to join in. Walter averted his gaze, unwilling to engage.

"Hold on a moment. Sylas Corleone… I feel like I've heard that name somewhere before…" The count's brow furrowed in thought, and suddenly his eyes widened as he looked at Sylas.

"You—are you the one known as the Demon Slayer of Baltor?"