Lord of Caldera

"Then… did you actually learn their techniques?" one of the heirs asked.

"I haven't learned everything yet. It would take years to truly master their craft. The items I gave you were made by the elves themselves under my command."

Eyes lit up around the room. If this were true, the Hernig family would possess the secrets to crafting magical artifacts—a lost art even to the Imperial Crown. Its value was beyond estimation. If they could even learn fragments of this knowledge…

Just selling the simplest magical tools could bring in mountains of gold.

The influx of people coming to the West for magical artifacts would grow immensely.

The entire Western region could see a resurgence as a result.

The young nobles' minds raced. This wasn't merely a matter of obtaining goods; it was the prospect of self-sufficiency. This was a venture worth risking their family's legacy for.

"Then what about the assassination attempt?" one noble asked cautiously.

"They were from the elves' kin. Those wretched elves have no concept of reparations!" the count spat, slamming his fist on the table in anger.

"They didn't care that their kin were in the wrong. They were outraged that 'lowly humans' dared to imprison one of their noble elves. When I refused to release them, they immediately retaliated, which led to this war."

Everyone fell silent. According to the count's version, it was clearly the elves who were at fault. They had wronged him first and then had the audacity to refuse any restitution, considering humans beneath them. It was no wonder the count was furious.

If that's the truth, of course, Sylas thought, giving the count a sharp look, which went unnoticed.

"If we don't put them in their place now, they'll only continue to climb all over us!" the count exclaimed. "Don't you agree?"

"Absolutely!"

"If we back down, it would be a shame upon not just one family but all of humanity!" The young nobles echoed the count's words fervently. Their agreement wasn't purely out of loyalty or justice. Backing down would mean forfeiting any chance to obtain the magical artifact techniques. How could they pass up a technology that could shift the Empire's power balance?

"Thank you, gentlemen. I am proud to have such steadfast neighbors," the count nodded with satisfaction.

"We're honored, Your Excellency," one of the heirs replied. "The affairs of the Hernig family are as good as our own."

Pleased with their assurance, the count glanced subtly at Sylas.

"Will you lend your support as well, Sir Sylas?"

"I came as an ally of the Winslow family. Should the Winslow family choose to help, I'll gladly do the same," Sylas replied diplomatically. Leon's shoulders tensed, and the other three young nobles flinched. After witnessing the inhuman strength of Sylas's knights the day before, they could no longer treat Sylas or even Leon dismissively.

Damn, just a little while ago, he was bending over backward…

Didn't he say that Flame Knight was his sister? Does this mean I'll have to live under his shadow now?

While the others were lost in thought, the count's expression tightened slightly. He hadn't received the response he had wanted. Sylas's words implied that he would only act if the Winslow family fully committed.

Well, I suppose it's to be expected. Experience tales at My Virtual Library Empire

There was little for Sylas to gain in this situation. The other families could look forward to a steady supply of magical artifacts or even gain fragments of the techniques for themselves. But for Sylas, the reward was merely a matter of honor, with nothing concrete to offer as compensation.

And who knows if the magical artifacts could even reach the distant East. Valuable knowledge, like techniques, was even more challenging to secure.

The count knew that any secrets he obtained could be stolen or blocked by the other Western families, who would resist sharing at all costs. A larger pool of inheritors meant smaller shares for each.

"Sir Sylas, there is something I would like to discuss with you privately. Would you visit me later tonight?"

"Of course, Your Excellency," Sylas replied.

The other heirs exchanged looks but held their tongues. They had come to understand Sylas's privileged position and began to regret their earlier disrespect.

If only we'd made a better impression at the start, we might've had him on our side…

With some regret, the heirs concluded the meeting. The count watched Sylas's departing figure with a thoughtful look. If Sylas wasn't inclined to fight for mere honor, then perhaps the count could offer him a more tangible incentive—one he wouldn't be able to refuse.

That evening, Sylas arrived at the count's parlor as agreed. The count greeted him warmly and offered him a glass of wine. After some polite conversation and obligatory flattery common among nobles, the count eventually got to the main point, having gauged the atmosphere.

"You see, Sir Sylas, I have no children. My wife passed early, and I've yet to have an heir."

"You're not too old to remarry, Your Excellency."

"Thank you for saying so, but there is no suitable lady," the count sighed deeply, casting his gaze toward the window. Outside, the banners of the four families fluttered in the night breeze.

"Those four families don't work for the balance in the West. The right pedigree might exist among fallen houses or other families outside the West, but finding one that fits is next to impossible."

The idea of a suitable young lady from a ruined noble family or a distant region was out of the question. No woman would willingly set foot in these monster-ridden lands. The count was over fifty, so only someone driven by unbridled ambition would ever consider marrying him.

"So, adoption is the only option. It's not uncommon in noble circles," he said.

Sylas nodded. It was indeed typical for noble houses without heirs to adopt someone.

"I'd consider it a dream to make you my son…" the count trailed off hopefully.

"That's too generous an offer," Sylas replied without hesitation, politely declining. He had plenty of use for the Corleone name in many places. While the Hernig family held sway in the West, it was still a long way from matching Corleone's reputation. Sylas had no reason to abandon the Corleone name.

And besides, what would I gain from a land crawling with monsters?

Seeing Sylas's restrained expression, the count chuckled wryly.

"I thought as much. I could tell that you were aiming for grander heights," he said, disappointment evident in his tone.

"It's not that, Your Excellency…"@@novelbin@@

"No need to explain. I know the Hernig name is too small to contain your ambitions," the count replied, a glint of calculation in his eyes.

"But, if not you, there's someone else who could carry my legacy," he hinted.

"I'm afraid I don't follow, Your Excellency."

"That knight you call Lady Rey, was it? Like her title suggests, she has a presence reminiscent of fire itself. Such strength and grace—she's a true daughter of the West."

"Is that so?"

"Raised in the shadows of her family, yet still so noble and proud. Truly extraordinary," the count continued, watching Sylas closely. Sylas blinked in mild confusion, wondering why Rey had suddenly become the topic.

After a short pause, the count dropped the real bombshell.

"I'm considering making her my heir."

"…!"