Lord of Caldera - Chapter 84

Chapter 84: Chapter 84
Ulrich was trying to put out a fire that had already spread beyond his control.

Just as Sylas was lost in thought, there was a knock at the door.

“Lord, are you in?”

“I am. Come in.”

With permission granted, Toby and Max entered the room. Seeing the two still dressed in casual attire, Sylas burst into laughter.

“Did Ulrich tell you not to move around, too?”

“At least he said it politely… in words,” Toby chuckled bitterly as he dropped into a chair. While Ulrich’s words had been courteous, the force behind them was unmistakable.

“So, I take it you don’t know what’s happening outside?” Sylas asked.

“I do,” Max interjected.

“You? How?” Sylas asked, surprised.

“I took a walk around early this morning. But on my way back, I ran into young Lord Ulrich. His expression was scarier than any demon,” Max shuddered at the memory. Ulrich, who was usually so composed, had clearly been pushed to his limits.

“What’s the mood among the people?” Sylas inquired.

“Lots of talk about the demon’s defeat. People are calling it a heroic deed. Especially your name, along with Sir Toby and Sir Ray. No offense, but Lady Lydia’s role is being somewhat downplayed,” Max reported.

“As expected,” Sylas said. He had anticipated this. While the saint’s role was significant, people tend to remember the more visible actions—the glorious battles. Then Max shared something Sylas hadn’t foreseen.

“Surprisingly, a song about the battle has already been composed overnight.”

“A song?” Sylas’s eyebrows shot up.

“Yes, it seems a bard was among the townspeople. He must be quite skilled because the song is quite good,” Max said before humming a few verses. Out of reverence, the song didn’t mention names directly, but used metaphorical titles like “Warrior of the Holy Sword” for Sylas.

“Sir Toby is called the ‘Knight of the Storm,’ and Sir Ray is ‘The Knight of Flaming Hair,'” Max added.

“Hah! That’s fantastic!” Toby laughed heartily, slapping his knee in approval of his new title. Sylas also found the names fitting.

“‘Knight of Flaming Hair,’ quite poetic,” Sylas mused. Max continued.

“The melody is quite catchy too, and the lyrics have already spread far and wide. If this keeps up, you all will become quite famous.”

“Good,” Sylas said with a satisfied smile. He had no intention of limiting himself to a reputation within the Corleone family. Fame was a tool, and having it would only open more doors.

‘The Knight of Flaming Hair, huh,’ Sylas thought, considering Ray’s growing notoriety. Toby’s rise was already expected, but Ray was also starting to attract attention. If things went well, Sylas mused, perhaps Ray could be drawn further into his fold.

‘It’s always good to have another powerful ally,’ Sylas thought, his mind already formulating plans.

Within a week, the investigation into the city’s damage and the appointment of a new administrator were completed. Since the demon was an incubus, there had been minimal property damage. The previous administrator had also done a good job training a successor, so the transition of duties went smoothly. In the midst of the aftermath, Lydia and her group prepared to leave the city.

“As the heir to the Corleone family, I thank you. Without your help, I shudder to think what might have happened,” Ulrich said as he stepped forward, speaking formally.

“It was our duty. Protecting people is the church’s responsibility,” Lydia replied with a polite smile, though her tone felt somewhat impersonal. Ulrich, after all, hadn’t fought alongside them on the front lines.

“The Corleone family will never forget this debt,” Ulrich continued.

“There is no debt. Please, do not worry yourself over it,” Lydia responded.

“If you ever need our help, don’t hesitate to ask,” Ulrich insisted.

“Thank you for your words. Oh, and one last thing…” Lydia shifted her attention away from Ulrich and approached Sylas. Ignoring Ulrich’s slight look of confusion, Lydia handed Sylas a small necklace.

“If it weren’t for you, we wouldn’t have won. I’d like you to have this as a token of gratitude.”

“This is…?”

“Just my necklace. Think of it as a sign of friendship,” Lydia smiled.

Ulrich’s face stiffened. It was clear that the necklace wasn’t just a simple gift. It was a symbolic gesture, declaring that Sylas had formed a significant bond with the saint. This was no trivial matter—such a connection with the church could have far-reaching consequences. Lydia, still smiling, continued.

“Whenever you need, bring this necklace to the church. No matter how busy I am, I’ll make time to see you.”

“Thank you. I’ll be sure to visit,” Sylas replied.

“Please do. Any time,” Lydia added, her tone much warmer than during her earlier conversation with Ulrich. The holy knights standing behind her smiled as well, acknowledging Sylas with nods. Ulrich, on the other hand, struggled to hide his discomfort.

“And with that, we’ll take our leave. May the goddess’s blessing be with you,” Lydia said as her group departed.

“May you stay safe as well, Lady Saint,” Ulrich responded, though he couldn’t shake the feeling of being sidelined. After the saint and her companions had left, Ulrich sighed heavily, leading the Corleone party back toward their estate. The reins in everyone else’s hands felt light, but Ulrich’s grip remained rigid.

“Young Lord Ulrich! You’re back safely!”

“Lord Sylas! We heard everything!”

“Is everyone alright? Was anyone hurt?”

After several days of travel, the group finally arrived back at the Corleone estate. The moment they returned, the estate’s servants and knights rushed out to greet them, eagerly checking on their well-being. Among them was Oscar, who was first to reach Ulrich.

“L-Lord! Are you unharmed!? Nothing bad happened, did it!?” Oscar cried, frantically examining Ulrich for any signs of injury. His face was full of worry, afraid that something might have gone wrong.

Only after thoroughly checking Ulrich from head to toe did Oscar finally let out a sigh of relief.

“Phew! I’ve been losing sleep, worrying something might have happened to you. It’s a huge relief to see you back safe and sound.”

“Oh, really now?” Ulrich said with a dangerous tone.

“Yes, seeing you again brings such joy—my lord?”

Oscar’s head tilted in confusion. Ulrich’s forehead had veins bulging, and there was an ominous aura surrounding him, as though he were about to explode.

“You know, Oscar, I’ve been looking forward to seeing you as well,” Ulrich said darkly.

“L-Lord? Is something the matter?”

“Nothing at all. Before we go see Father, why don’t we step over to that corner of the garden for a little chat. I’ve been dying to talk to you about something.”

Dragging Oscar by the arm, Ulrich led him deep into the garden. Moments later, the sound of punches rang out.

Thwack! Thud! Smack!

“You told me the cursed sword didn’t accept him! You said it didn’t!”

“Cough, ack! My lord, please! Give me a moment—urk!”

“Didn’t accept him, huh?! Then how is he wielding flames like it’s nothing?!”

“My lord, I… I may have been wrong, I—ugh!”

“You think that’s an excuse, you so-called sage!? I’m about to lose my mind here!”

That day, the sheltered scholar Oscar learned a harsh lesson about the realities of life.