Lord of Caldera

"This could even involve the entire Corleone family," Max added gravely.

"Which is exactly the point," Sylas replied.

"Excuse me?"

"The count gave me this gift with that intent in mind. By making me a target, he can push me into this war, force me to use Toby and Rey, and even involve the Corleone family."

"And you accepted, knowing all that?"

"Because taking her was still in my best interest," Sylas said with a faint smile as he approached the elf. She glared at him with the intensity of someone ready to tear him apart, which only made him smirk.

"Alv-seden. De'aran lo ra." Sylas said in elvish.

"...!" The elf's eyes widened in shock, as did the other retainers, who turned to Sylas in astonishment.

"My lord, you know elvish?" Max asked, unable to hide his surprise.

"I studied it once," Sylas replied casually.

"And what did you just say?"@@novelbin@@

"I asked if she could understand me. It looks like I learned correctly," Sylas said, nodding toward the stunned elf.

In elvish, he continued, "If you understand me, say something. How long will you keep your mouth shut?"

The elf's gaze twisted with anger, and in a display of defiance, she opened her mouth wide, revealing her tongue—or lack thereof. Max leaned in for a closer look and frowned.

"Her tongue's been cut," he muttered.

"That damned count," Sylas cursed under his breath. Cutting her tendons to prevent escape was one thing, but to cut her tongue as well?

"He was intent on making me an enemy of the elves," Sylas said grimly.

"Well, so much for explaining anything if we meet on the battlefield," Max sighed.

"Fortunately, it's only been cauterized and hasn't fully healed yet," Sylas noted.

"How is that fortunate?"

Sylas reached into his coat and pulled out a small vial of elixir. Ignoring the astonished gasps of his retainers, he held the vial out to the elf.

"Drink this," he ordered.

"...!"

"It's an elixir, you fool. Don't refuse it—it's not poison. If you want your tongue and tendons to regenerate, drink it."

The elf looked away defiantly at first, but her eyes widened as she processed his words. After a moment's hesitation, she reluctantly opened her mouth. Sylas poured the elixir into her mouth, and the elf swallowed, gasping and twisting in discomfort as the healing process began.

"What's happening?" Max asked, alarmed.

"It's painful because her body is regenerating. Her tongue was cut deeply, after all," Sylas replied calmly. Just as he'd expected, the elf soon stopped writhing, her tongue and tendons now healed. Tentatively, she stood, hopping slightly to test her restored legs. For a brief moment, she almost smiled, but catching Sylas's gaze, she quickly scowled.

"I won't thank you, human. If it weren't for you and your kind, I'd never have been hurt in the first place," she spat in elvish.

"I didn't do it for your gratitude, so don't worry," Sylas replied, unfazed. "I'm more interested in why you and the count are at war."

"What? Are you not a subordinate of this castle's lord?"

"No. But your attitude is making me reconsider my stance. If the count was at fault, I'd planned to withdraw or even side with you. Maybe I should just support him in this war and demand compensation."

The elf's face went pale. As a people, elves had become an elite minority—not by choice, but because their population had dwindled so drastically. Every loss was a substantial blow to their survival. And if Sylas's knights, who could easily defeat ten elves, joined the war? They could become a tipping point.

"If you're not going to tell me anything, then I'll just start preparing for the coming battle," Sylas said, turning away.

"W-Wait! I'll tell you my name!" she blurted out.

"Actually, now that I think about it, I don't care to hear it anymore…" Sylas replied, feigning indifference.

"Eldira! I am Eldira, the firstborn daughter of Arathion, Grand Duke of the Sword!" she shouted.

Sylas halted mid-step. Did she just say…?

"What did you just say?"

"My name is Eldira!"

"No, before that. Whose firstborn did you say you were?"

"My father is Arathion, the Grand Duke of the Sword."

Sylas clenched his jaw, understanding everything in an instant. The elves, suffering from a population crisis, would still go to extraordinary lengths to avenge their kin. No wonder they had razed five noble families. No wonder their forces had gone wild, unleashing monsters across the land.

That damned count had captured the daughter of the elven grand duke.

The elves had no king. Although the concept of a throne existed, no one had occupied it since ancient times. The reason was simple: no one had managed to unite the scattered elven tribes. Thus, those who ruled the various elven domains referred to themselves not as kings but as grand dukes.

In essence, a grand duke among the elves was effectively akin to a king, especially given that only one elven nation remained beyond the Western forests. This meant that Eldira, as the daughter of a grand duke, was essentially a princess. No wonder the elves had gone into such an uproar. They were already a dwindling race, and it wasn't just any noble who had been taken but their princess.

No wonder the elves beyond the Western forest were livid.

Yet, a few questions still nagged at Sylas's mind.

「Why would the grand duke's daughter be here in the first place?」 he asked. Experience new stories on My Virtual Library Empire

If she was so precious, she would have been treated with utmost care. Why would the grand duke's daughter be on the front lines, carrying out an assassination mission? It made no sense; even approaching human territories would have triggered an outcry among other elves.

「Given your father's position, he would never have approved this mission,」 Sylas added.

「Why would my father be involved in this? This is my war!」

「What? But isn't your father leading this war?」

The two stared at each other in confusion, realizing they were speaking at cross purposes.