Lord of Caldera - Chapter 265

Chapter 265: Chapter 265

The guide trembled, sensing the deadly intent in Sylas’s voice. He was beginning to believe that Sylas truly intended to kill him.

“I suppose I don’t need to hear your excuses. I’ll snap your neck right now and accuse you of trying to recruit me for a rebellion. Let’s see how your master responds when the investigation starts.”

“…!”

The guide looked at Sylas in horror. What did he just threaten him with?

Just as Sylas began to tighten his grip, ready to end the man’s life, a voice cried out from behind him.

“Stop!”

A man burst out urgently, and Sylas raised the corners of his mouth. In truth, he had detected the presence the moment he arrived.

However, he pretended not to notice out of sheer irritation at the man’s attempts to play the villain.

Where does this brat think he’s posturing?

Sylas’s keen senses captured every movement of the unexpected guest. The man had tried to appear nonchalant, hands clasped behind his back, as if everything was proceeding according to plan—a laughable charade.

“Stop this at once!”

A shout erupted from the man. Meanwhile, the attendant’s neck remained firmly gripped in Sylas’s hand.

“Hm.”

Sylas didn’t reply, merely scrutinizing the man. Golden hair, intricately crafted ornaments, and a robe dyed with an extravagant violet hue—a color boasting exorbitant cost. His appearance was so striking that it even put Dietrich to shame.

He had the look of a prince straight out of a fairytale illustration.

“I said, release him! Are you ignoring me!?”

“Ah, right. I suppose I did.”

Sylas glanced at the attendant as though just remembering him. The man’s face had turned a ghastly shade of blue from being choked for too long. With an almost indifferent air, Sylas tossed the gasping attendant aside. The man let out a sigh of relief.

“Are you alright?”

“Ah, k-koff… I’m terribly sorry…”

“Enough. Don’t speak; just keep an eye on the surroundings.”

“Y-yes!”

The attendant coughed incessantly as he slowly backed away from the scene. Watching this, a glint flashed in Sylas’s eyes. The attendant had retreated backward without showing his back—an etiquette reserved for addressing someone of utmost nobility. From that alone, Sylas could roughly guess the identity of the man before him.

“How insolent.”

As the attendant left, the man clenched his teeth and glared at Sylas.

“To draw blood within the imperial palace? Have you lost your mind?”

“My mind is perfectly intact. Compared to an idiot playing mastermind in the shadows, that is.”

“…!?”

Shock washed over the man’s face, as though he’d never heard such words in his life. When he finally regained composure, his face flushed red with anger.

“You madman! Do you not know who I am?”

“I don’t.”

“What!?”

“How would I know if you don’t introduce yourself? Use some logic.”

“Are you a nobleman’s child or not? Do you not know proper etiquette?”

“And what does etiquette have to do with this?”

Of course, Sylas knew what he meant. Seeing the extreme courtesy displayed by the attendant, the man probably expected Sylas to recognize him.

In short, he wanted others to figure out his identity without him having to spell it out. But Sylas had no intention of indulging him.

Why should I?

If it was that important, the man should reveal it himself. Why wait for others to cater to him? This was the hallmark of someone used to being pampered.

“You uncultured…!”

The man’s hand trembled as his face contorted with a mix of humiliation and frustration. Finally, unable to bear it any longer, he spoke.

“Fine! I shall tell you. I am Maximilian Valdeque la Rejina!”

As the ostentatiously long name echoed, Sylas’s lips curled upward. Of course, he already knew. There was only one family in the empire with such a grandiose name—the direct descendants of the first emperor.

Hearing the name, Sylas made no apology. Instead, he simply inclined his head slightly.

“It is an honor to meet Your Highness, the Crown Prince.”

Before him stood Maximilian, the current crown prince and soon-to-be emperor. The very man who had ordered the annihilation of Corleone and Sylas’s execution in his previous life. His mortal enemy, whose face he had never seen before, was now directly in front of him.

“Is that all?”

The Crown Prince, Maximilian, glared at Sylas with burning eyes.

“You attempted to spill blood in the imperial palace, nearly harmed my attendant, and insulted me, the Crown Prince. Do you expect to brush these actions aside as though they never happened?”

This was absurd. Suppressing a scoff, Sylas replied calmly.

“It seems Your Highness is laboring under some misconceptions.”

“Misconceptions? Misconceptions, you say? Are you suggesting I am mistaken about what I witnessed with my own eyes?”

As if daring Sylas to deny it, Maximilian’s glare intensified. But Sylas merely smiled faintly.

“First, Your Highness’s attendant served someone other than the Emperor and intentionally arranged for us to meet. That alone constitutes a grave crime punishable by death. He should thank me for sparing him.”

“…!”

Maximilian’s eyes widened at the unexpected response. While Sylas’s words were elaborate, the meaning was simple:

“Did you plant a spy without the Emperor’s knowledge? That alone warrants execution, doesn’t it?”

Though not explicitly stated, the subtle threat was clear. The Crown Prince’s face twisted with fury.

“You insolent—!”

“Moreover,”

Sylas cut him off before he could say more.

“Your Highness concealed your identity. By imperial law, I am not guilty of disrespect. The law states that if a person deliberately hides their status, any perceived offense is not punishable.”

“Grr!”

Maximilian clenched his fists tightly, veins bulging. Unfortunately, Sylas’s reasoning was sound. Status must be declared to be respected. Concealing it while engaging in underhanded schemes meant that any harm suffered was self-inflicted. Even imperial law recognized this as fair.

Why wait for someone to serve you on a silver platter? Just announce yourself and save the trouble.

The Crown Prince’s lips pressed together in frustration. His fists clenched so tightly that his veins protruded visibly.

“Such arrogance… Just as Rozier said.”

“My apologies.”

“Frankly, I dislike men like you. However, politics is not governed by personal feelings.”

Maximilian’s gaze grew cold, his voice calm.

“Even mortal enemies can join hands when necessary. Do you not agree?”

“That may be true. But is there a need for such cooperation?”

The Crown Prince’s offer was clear—he wanted Sylas to serve him. But in Sylas’s eyes, Maximilian had no bait worthy of such an agreement.