Lord of Caldera

Sylas and his companions traveled through several villages over a few days. They passed small and large villages alike, but prices were consistently high. Each night they stayed, their funds dwindled rapidly. Without the stash of gold coins Sylas had gathered before departing, they would have run out long ago.

"Damn it, I'm starting to hate this place," Toby grumbled after they settled in at the seventh inn. Ray nodded in agreement.

"Is it the high prices?" Ray asked.

"It's their attitude that annoys me even more," Toby replied.

"They're shameless," Ray added.

Sylas burst into laughter at their complaints. It was true; the innkeepers showed no hint of apology despite charging exorbitant prices. Yet, oddly enough, Sylas found himself missing this shamelessness. Memories of an old friend came to mind.

"Are all Northerners so thick-skinned? At least pretend to be sorry."

"This isn't shamelessness, Captain. It's pride."

"Pride? For charging so much and showing no remorse?"

"No, pride in choosing to deal fairly, even if we might starve tomorrow, rather than steal or beg."

The conversation had left him bewildered at the time, and the friend had only laughed when Sylas scoffed about pride vanishing from the world. Sylas hadn't understood those words until much later. As he reminisced, a sign caught his eye.

<Falun>

A worn-out, wooden sign swayed precariously, looking as if it would fall off any moment. It seemed like it hadn't been repaired in ages.

Just then, a middle-aged man approached from the other side of the sign and crossed paths with Sylas's group.

"Who are you?"

There was a sharpness in his gaze, a clear sense of wariness. His curt tone made Ray frown, feeling that a commoner's manner was too short with a knight.

"Watch your words," Ray said sternly.

The man spat in response. Enraged, Ray's hand moved toward his sword, but the man pulled out a metal badge from his pocket.

"… An honorary knight?"

"That's right. I'm a knight too. Satisfied?"

An honorary knight—a title granted to commoners who had distinguished themselves on the battlefield. Though they lacked real authority, the title elevated them to the status of nobility. Ray hesitated momentarily before releasing his hand from his sword. While the man was certainly rude, drawing his blade would have been excessive for a fellow knight.

The man blinked, seemingly surprised.

"That's unexpected."

"What is?" Ray asked.

"I thought you'd charge at me, saying, 'How dare an honorary knight speak that way!'"

Despite technically being noble, honorary knights were regarded as little more than honorary positions thrown to those with nothing else to offer. Nobles with no real power were often seen as even less than commoners. Without land or wealth, a title alone provided little respect.

"A knight is a knight, after all," Sylas said.

"Hmm," the man muttered, genuinely surprised.

"Are you headed to Falun?" he asked.

"Yes, we are," Sylas responded.@@novelbin@@

"I'll guide you. The path ahead is often buried in snow, and you could easily lose your way."

Sylas accepted the offer graciously; there was no reason to decline a helpful gesture.

"By the way, I haven't introduced myself. The name's Henrik," the man said.

"Your family name?" Ray asked.

"What's the point?" Henrik replied with a bitter smile, showing he took no pride in his honorary title. He seemed as though it had been bestowed upon him in lieu of a more tangible reward.

"And you?" Henrik asked.

"Sylas Corleone. These are my vassals, Ray Herning and Toby Baston," Sylas replied.

"What brings you all the way to a remote village like this?" Henrik's voice carried a hint of curiosity, though his guarded demeanor hadn't entirely vanished. Sylas answered simply, pretending not to notice.

"Knightly duties."

"… Knightly duties? In this day and age?"

"Yes, and because it's rare, it's all the more honorable. My father undertook the same journey," Sylas replied truthfully. His true purpose was hidden, but everything else was honest.

"With all the barbarians in the North, it seems like knights are indeed needed here," Henrik chuckled, his laughter hollow rather than mocking.

"Unfortunately, there are no barbarians left for you to fight in Falun," Henrik said.

"Is it a safe village, then?" Sylas asked.

"Not at all. They raid whenever they get the chance. It's just that you won't find any you can defeat," Henrik replied.

Sylas looked at him, confused, but Henrik merely shook his head in response.

"You'll understand once we get there," he said, ending the conversation.

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As they continued, they encountered several stretches of the path buried under snow, with sparse trees around, making it easy to lose their way. Thanks to Henrik's guidance, they finally neared Falun. Upon reaching the village entrance, Henrik frowned.

"Damn it," he muttered.

"What's wrong?" Sylas asked.

"Just a little issue," Henrik replied.

"Barbarians?" Ray asked.

"Nothing that serious," Henrik sighed, glancing at Sylas.

"I'll handle it, so please, try not to get involved," Henrik requested.

"Understood," Sylas replied.

With a firm expression, Henrik moved forward. Shortly after, a guard standing at the village gate spotted him and sneered.

"Well, look who it is. Our friend Henrik! Barely left and already back, eh?"

The guard's mocking tone made Henrik's face twist with irritation.

"Guards in a village like this?"

Falun was a secluded village, small even among villages, nowhere near the size of a town. Yet, it had guards. Usually, that meant one of two things:

"Either it's incredibly dangerous and needs them, or they're guards in name but actually spies."

In the worst case, it could be both. Judging by Henrik's tense exchange with the guard, the latter was almost certainly true. If they were from the same village, the person assigned to guard duty wouldn't have such a hostile relationship with Henrik.

"Enough with the nonsense, get out of the way. We have guests here," Henrik snapped.

The guard gave Sylas's party a once-over, his scrutinizing gaze enough to irritate anyone.

"Looks like you're mercenary knights. What business brings you here? Did Henrik hire you?"

Henrik shouted angrily, "What nonsense are you spouting!?" But the guard held his ground, clearly indicating they'd need to explain themselves before he'd let them pass. Sylas glanced down at him with a wry smile.