Lord of Caldera - Chapter 148

Chapter 148: Chapter 148

“Are you trying to make a fool of me?” Philip’s shout made the administrator flinch. The idea that the Corleone family’s lineage traced back to a mere hunter seemed absurd.

“But, my lord, the only people by those names—Norman and his daughter Lyria—are them. No others match.”

Fuming, Philip held back his frustration. The administrator might not be lying; it was more likely just an error that would soon be cleared up.

“Ask around. See if any of the locals remember them.”

The barony was small, and the locals all knew each other’s faces. If Norman had indeed been a hunter, someone would surely remember him. The findings, however, were unexpected.

“Norman, you say? Ah, yes, I remember him well. He was an excellent hunter.”

“What? He really existed?” Philip’s face paled.

“Yes, my lord. And he had a daughter named Lyria. A beautiful girl she was, charming enough to catch the eye of a knight, I believe.”

“Did they mention this knight’s name?”

“I don’t recall, but I remember his armor bore a red dragon emblem.”

Philip’s face drained of color. A red dragon—the emblem of the Corleone family. And this was from 17 years ago, before he had control of this land.

‘If for some reason the head of the Corleone family visited then…’ Philip thought. If Sylas Corleone, who now raised this ludicrous claim, was an illegitimate son, it would all make sense.

As realization dawned, Philip muttered, “So that’s his justification?”

A noble without legitimate authority could never assert such a claim. But Sylas, an illegitimate son, was mixing his ancestor’s commoner status with his own noble rank, amplifying their meager rights.

‘The maddening part is, it holds up logically.’

Whether it was right or not didn’t matter. As long as the argument held up in form, it could be used as justification, and Sylas’s claim barely met that threshold.

“Damn it, this is troublesome.”

“Father! Father!” His son, Larius, rushed in as Philip massaged his aching temples, adding to his irritation.

“What now?”

“The Corleone boy has arrived!”

“What?” Philip exclaimed, startled.

“He’s requesting a meeting! He’s at our gates!”

Philip’s first impression of Sylas was simple.

‘He’s young.’

With his boyish face, Sylas appeared barely past his coming-of-age ceremony. It was hard to believe this youthful face belonged to the man who issued such a bold declaration of war. When Sylas entered the parlor, he tilted his head upward, looking down at Philip.

“So, you are Baron Philip?” Sylas asked arrogantly.

“What did you say?” Philip’s face contorted at Sylas’s brash tone. This boy, younger than his own son, was addressing him so disrespectfully! Sylas, without a title, spoke down to him, a baron, as if it were nothing.

“How dare you! Do you not know proper manners?”

“Oh, I know them well enough. But why should I respect someone without real authority?”

Ah, Philip realized, Sylas was engaging in a battle of legitimacy. The boy’s approach was unconventional, leveraging his ancestry to stake a novel claim.

‘But he’s still an amateur,’ Philip thought, smirking. For all his daring, Sylas’s lack of experience left him vulnerable, revealing his greatest weakness in pursuit of legitimacy.

“Let me ask you, then. Who are you to question my authority?”

“What do you mean?” Sylas replied coolly.

“You aren’t a true noble. You’re just an illegitimate son.”

An inferiority over one’s lineage. For an illegitimate son, that was an unshakeable stigma. More than that, his family would never overlook it. After all, allowing an illegitimate child to gain too much influence would create chaos, so the hierarchy was strictly maintained.

“I wonder if your family knows of this,” Philip taunted. “It seems to me you’re merely a bastard son recklessly trying to claim a domain.”

Most families would disapprove of an illegitimate son’s audacious ambitions. If successful, he could overshadow the legitimate heirs, and if he failed, it would disgrace the family. Philip mused that if he simply informed Sylas’s family, Sylas’s standing in the family would quickly diminish.

“If you don’t want your family to find out, you should at least—”

“How amusing,” Sylas interrupted.

“What?” Philip was taken aback.

“My name is already on the family registry, and I’ve mastered our family’s swordsmanship. So what does it matter if I’m illegitimate?”

Philip’s eyes widened in shock.

Philip froze at the unexpected words. What? His name on the family registry? And he’s learned the secret swordsmanship? That meant he wasn’t treated much differently from a legitimate heir. He even had a claim to inheritance!

‘Could he be a favored illegitimate son?’ A cold sweat ran down Philip’s back. The status of an illegitimate child varied by family and depended greatly on the head’s favor. Most were disregarded, but a few enjoyed the same treatment as legitimate heirs. If Sylas was one of those…

‘I’m doomed.’

“What’s wrong? You don’t look well,” Sylas taunted, noticing Philip’s distress.

Philip struggled to find words to respond. A favored son held a different weight entirely. Dealing with Sylas was far more challenging than he’d anticipated.

“Ahem, ahem! It’s nothing,” Philip stammered, trying to regain his composure.

“Is that so? Then let’s continue our discussion,” Sylas said, unbothered by Philip’s reaction. Philip grit his teeth at the arrogance of the young man in front of him, but Sylas continued without hesitation.

“My purpose here is simple. As I stated in my declaration, you’re ruining this land, and that’s an insult to my mother’s homeland.”

“Utter nonsense!”

“Decide for yourself whether my words are nonsense,” Sylas replied, silencing Philip’s protests. “If you meet the following conditions, I will guarantee your safety.”

“Conditions?”

“First…”

The conditions Sylas set were simple:

Baron Greve would transfer ownership of the territory to Sylas.Philip would leave the land without taking any supplies.Since this was a mutually agreed arrangement, Philip was not to protest it later.

Leaving a bewildered Philip behind, Sylas rose from his seat. As he left, his parting words echoed in Philip’s mind.

“I’ll give you three days to think it over. I hope you have an answer by then.”