Lord of Caldera

At the count's words, everyone wore a bewildered expression. The Demon Slayer of Baltor? What was he talking about?

Sylas calmly acknowledged the count's statement.

"If you're referring to my role in aiding the saint in Baltor, then yes, that was me."

"Well! So, it's true…!" exclaimed the count in admiration, his eyes once again sweeping over Sylas. If earlier he looked as though he were inspecting a product, this time, he seemed to be examining a verified treasure.

Unable to hold back his curiosity, Damian finally spoke up.

"Your Excellency, if I may, could you explain this to us? The Demon Slayer of Baltor… I've never heard that title before."

Leon, along with the heirs of the other three families, nodded as well. Even Leon hadn't heard of Sylas's past exploits.

The count looked around at the young nobles and said, "You mean to tell me you've never heard? Two demons appeared in the eastern Corleone estate, and both were slain."

"Is that true?" one of them asked, astonished.

"It is. The empire was buzzing about it for a while. I heard that one of the demons was beheaded by the head of the Corleone family himself, and the other was eliminated by his son…" The count's gaze turned back to Sylas, who nodded with a humble smile.

"It wasn't solely by my strength. I had the saint's help, as well as that of my loyal retainers."

"Remarkable retainers indeed. Yes, I heard a bard's song about them—heroes known as the Storm Knight and the Flame Knight."

"They are knights far too esteemed for me," Sylas replied humbly.

Pleased with Sylas's answer, the count's lips curled up, though he tried to suppress his joy.

"So, you've come as an ally of the Winslow family?"

"My knight, known as the Flame Knight, is from the Winslow family."

"Is that so?" The count turned swiftly to Leon, who flinched as the count gave him an enthusiastic pat on the shoulder.

"Why hadn't you told me? If I'd known the Winslow family boasted such a fine knight, I would've liked to hear sooner!"

"Well, I…"

"Never mind, what does it matter? It's enough that I know now," the count replied, deciding on his own conclusion and beaming, leaving Leon unable to say a word. He was too overwhelmed to understand what was happening. Ignoring the bewildered young nobles, the count spoke with delight.

"Such an honored guest has traveled all the way from the East—how could we not celebrate this occasion? I'll arrange a modest feast!"

The count's words caused everyone but Sylas to exchange uneasy glances. With a reinforcement request, they were practically in a wartime situation. Yet he wanted to throw a feast? Unless the guest was incredibly significant, this would be unthinkable. While everyone else remained confused, Sylas responded with a smile.

"I'd be honored to join you, Your Excellency."

That night, a modest but plentiful feast was held in the count's castle. Although the event was not lavish, there was no shortage of wine and meat. The ones benefiting most from this unexpected feast were the soldiers of the other four families.

"Hah! What a stroke of luck! Normally, they'd barely let us breathe without watching our every move."

"Right? Who would've thought we'd ever be treated like this at the Hernig estate."

Even though the feast was nominally for Sylas, his group consisted of only four people, so naturally, the abundance of food and drink found its way to the soldiers. Delighted, the soldiers indulged, and even the knights could hardly contain their smiles. However, the heirs who led them felt unsettled.

"Not once have they held a feast like this for us," they thought bitterly.

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It made sense. They were reinforcements, and a feast was out of the question during what was essentially a wartime situation. Unless the guest was truly distinguished, such an event was unlikely. The problem was that this feast had been thrown as soon as Sylas arrived.

"Just how special is this guy to be treated like this?" Damian thought irritably, downing his wine. Stefan shared his frustration. The taste of the meat he chewed barely registered; he was simply bewildered by the grand reception.

While Leon stayed by Sylas's side, only Walter seemed to enjoy the meal without concern.

"Come on now, if His Excellency is throwing a feast, the least you can do is enjoy it. You all look like you're at a funeral instead," Walter remarked.

At this, Stefan scowled.

"Damn it! Walter, don't you have any pride? Eating so cheerfully like that."

"What would you have me do? Tip over the tables?"

"No, you fool. Strip off that fraud's pretense and open His Excellency's eyes!"

Scowling, Stefan glared at Sylas, who was seated beside the count, accepting a cup of wine. Watching him so close to the count, practically at the head of the table, Stefan gritted his teeth.

"Surely, His Excellency must be mistaken, or perhaps the brat tricked him."

"Right! There's no way a sixteen-year-old could be a Demon Slayer," they muttered to each other as they exchanged glances and rose from their seats. To them, Sylas was merely a boy who'd earned a name by luck. A bit of questioning would reveal his true nature, and then the count would realize and treat him as he deserved.

"Your Excellency, may I have a word…?"

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Just as Damian began to speak, a scream pierced the night from nearby. The count scowled, and a messenger came running from a distance, panting.

"Y-Your Excellency! There's an emergency!"

"What is it?" the count demanded.

"Elves! Elves have breached the perimeter!"

"What!?" The count jumped to his feet in shock. Elves? Weren't they supposed to be lurking in the forests? How had they gotten here?

The soldiers were already stirring when they heard another noise.

Shing, shing, shing.

"Elves!" a soldier shouted in terror, spotting shadowy figures entering the courtyard. The twenty figures were, as the soldier said, elves.