Lord of Caldera - Chapter 241

Chapter 241: Chapter 241

Knowing the truth only made Willem more frustrated with Walter. When he first heard the story, he had thought it an impressive feat to secure a trade route with just a vassal’s oath. But as it turned out, this was a trade route they could have gained through simple negotiation. And yet, Walter had bound them unnecessarily with a vassal oath.

“You should have at least prevented that Winslow upstart from being appointed as Count’s deputy.”

“That was not possible in that environment!”

“Enough. Return to your room. Reflect on your shortcomings for a while.”

“Father!”

Willem dismissed Walter, ignoring his pleas. In his mind, Walter’s words were mere childish excuses. More concerning than his son’s complaints was the mischief that Count’s Deputy Winslow might engage in. And as expected, the Winslow family had made a petty retaliation.

“That damned boy is toying with the distribution of goods? And even setting our distribution turn to last!”

From a pure profit standpoint, their earnings had increased explosively, an incomparable change from before the trade route existed. But who could he boast of it to, when every competitor and neighbor had become rich as well? Worse yet, they received the least benefit due to their rival’s schemes. While it wasn’t unwelcome, the gain was always accompanied by humiliation and mockery.

“I can’t stand it any longer. I won’t rest until those arrogant Winslows are brought down!” Willem, seething with anger, devised a plan. He decided to halt the supply of goods across the estate and place all the blame on Leon.

It was practically self-sabotage, a blackmail scheme against his own people. The repercussions would be enormous if he failed, yet Willem felt no fear. Leon was an illegitimate Count who hadn’t undergone proper heir training. How could he possibly see through this?

“This is madness! What on earth are you doing!?”

“Silence! What kind of man are you, satisfied to be played by someone your own age?”

Walter had been horrified and tried to reason with him, but Willem only berated his son. This time, however, Walter did not back down, and the relationship between father and son deteriorated irreparably. Still, Willem was confident.

“At most, it’ll take seven months. That boy Sylas will surely return by then. Everything will be set right once they’re back.”

The knightly retainer period was one year. To recall the loyal confidant he had placed as a watcher, Sylas and the Count would return to the west by then. All Willem needed to do was wait patiently, and on that day, everything would be restored.

Yes, Willem was certain of it. But as that day drew near, he found himself constantly wiping the cold sweat from his brow.

“How did it come to this?”

He had approached it all so rationally, he thought. He had considered the typical relationship between lord and retainer, the usual way of thinking, and the standard dynamics. Yet reality had turned out completely different. The Count was far from ordinary. His schemes held no sway over this man.

“Your Excellency, my estate faces a true crisis. Look at the contradiction—suffering in poverty while wealth floods the west.”

“…This is all Leon’s doing,” Willem Bindelern said, his voice thick with resentment. “He defies the principles set by His Excellency, driven by personal grudges—if this isn’t a grave offense, then what is?”

“…”

Silence. Willem’s mouth was dry. No matter how much he spoke, Ray just listened without responding, his piercing gaze fixed unflinchingly on Willem. Willem silently prayed, hoping for any kind of response.

But his plea went unanswered. Ray remained immovable, leaving Willem to exhaust himself. Finally, when Willem had run out of words, he made one last appeal.

“…So please, make a wise decision. Punish this evil and restore justice.”

“…”

Ray’s silence continued, his cold, unblinking gaze paralyzing Willem in place. Just then, a faint voice came from behind him.

“I’m feeling thirsty.”

The words were murmured so quietly, but everyone in the room heard them clearly. It was Sylas who had spoken, prompting Ray to finally break his silence.

“Willem,” Ray said.

“Y-yes, Your Excellency!”

“Bring something to drink. Something refreshing that will quench my thirst. Make sure it’s cold.”

Willem, his face darkened, called for a servant. After a hurried whisper, two glasses of chilled fruit juice were brought out.

“One is for His Excellency, the Count, and the other for Sir Sylas.”

“I’ll pass, Lord Bindelern,” Sylas replied.

“Please, accept it. It’s my hospitality, so don’t worry about it…”

“How dare I, as a mere knight, drink while His Excellency goes unserved?”

“…”

“A knight would never presume! I can’t possibly drink! How could I?”

Willem’s face turned deathly pale as Sylas’s pointed refusal hit him. He looked back at Ray, who replied icily.

“When did I ask for fruit juice? I never said I was thirsty.”

“S-sorry! If there’s something else you’d prefer…”

“I have no desire for anything. I don’t feel like drinking at all. Not a single drop would go down.”

God help me. Willem squeezed his eyes shut, cursing himself inwardly.

“I’ve been a fool. A complete fool!” All thoughts of undermining the bond between lord and retainer faded. He could feel himself being crushed under the weight of their silent wrath.

“S-Sir Sylas, please, just a sip. Humor me.”

“You want me to drink? How can I possibly do that?”

“I beg you, it’s my life’s greatest wish. Just one sip, please.”

“Hahaha, Lord Bindelern, you do amuse me.”

Casting aside all pride, Willem was reduced to begging. But Sylas simply chuckled dryly.

“I decide if I drink or not. Your wishes mean nothing to me.”

“…!”

“So stop babbling nonsense and sit down. His Excellency is waiting. This is no time to be conversing with a mere knight.”

Willem’s face flushed red with embarrassment. Unable to contain himself, one of Willem’s knights shouted, “How dare you! This man is a viscount! How could you…!”

“As of today, the Bindelern family will no longer receive trade supplies.”