Lord of Caldera - Chapter 95

Chapter 95: Chapter 95
After the count and the servants witnessed everything, the rest flowed smoothly. All that remained was Ulrich’s performance, complete with tearful apologies.

“Ah, what have I done… I tried to kill my own brother!”

“Brother! Are you back to your senses?” Sylas cried, embracing Ulrich in a display of forgiveness.

“Sylas! Please forgive me!” Ulrich wailed, crying as he clung to his brother.

“How could I ever resent you, brother!” Sylas responded warmly.

Ulrich had taken a mouthful of the wasabi he’d hidden, causing tears and snot to flow freely as he hugged Sylas, sealing the performance. The next day, the story spread through the estate like wildfire.

“It turns out that what Sir Ulrich did was because of a curse!”

“Sir Sylas has lifted Sir Ulrich’s curse, bringing him back to his senses!”

At first, many were skeptical, especially Dani, who scoffed, thinking his brother was pulling some elaborate stunt. But as Sylas himself confirmed the story and Ulrich went so far as to confess his wrongdoings directly to the count, the situation shifted.

“I gave in to greed and fell under a dungeon curse. As a result, I tried to kill my brother. I must leave the family to make amends; please grant me permission to go.”

Ulrich, a natural performer, seized the opportunity, delivering an emotional plea that captivated everyone. The count, who had witnessed the events, firmly refused, grasping Ulrich’s hands and speaking with conviction.

“Everyone makes mistakes, especially when it’s not by their own will. Stop blaming yourself and rest. You are still my heir,” he declared.

“Father! Thank you!” Ulrich cried, overwhelmed.

With the count’s declaration, the matter of the poison and the “transparent elixir” was resolved, and Ulrich’s honor was largely restored under the excuse of “being cursed.” Only Dani, who’d briefly tasted the idea of becoming the heir, fumed inwardly at having his hopes dashed in a single day.

Two months passed after the incident with the poison.

As the snow slowly began to melt, the count summoned Sylas and Dani to his study. They had a good idea why; springtime at sixteen was a significant time for any noble’s child.

“You called for us, Father,” Sylas said.

“Yes, it’s good to see you both,” the count replied, seated with an easy demeanor that suggested he’d already put Ulrich’s recent actions behind him. Glancing over his two sons, the count smiled.

“By the look on your faces, it seems you have an idea why I called you,” he said.

“Is it about our futures?” Sylas asked.

“Yes, you’re both of age now,” the count replied.

At sixteen, they were now considered adults, and regardless of their background, this was the age to decide one’s future path. Commoners might inherit the family trade or seek employment, perhaps even apprentice under someone if they were lucky. Nobles, on the other hand, had three basic options.

“They could attend the capital’s academy to discover their potential, stay within the family estate to prepare for inheritance, or pursue a career as knights to advance themselves.”

The count looked at his sons and continued, “I want to send you both to the academy. Do either of you have other thoughts?”

“I don’t, Father. I’d like to go to the academy as well,” Dani replied immediately, his expression suggesting there was no other option.

“That’s to be expected,” Sylas thought.

For those with the means, attending the capital’s academy was the clear choice. Not only was it a chance to experience the bustling capital and build connections with other nobles, but the academy might reveal hidden talents. Only those who couldn’t afford the academy fees stayed home, often looking for a lord to serve. In that sense, the academy was essentially a social training ground for the upper nobility.

“And what about you, Sylas?” the count asked, looking at him with the same expectation.

After a moment’s thought, Sylas replied, “I would like to become a wandering knight.”

“What…!” the count exclaimed, looking at Sylas in shock, while Dani’s expression was equally stunned. Sylas’s choice was unconventional, to say the least.

A wandering knight wasn’t an official rank like a squire or foot knight but referred to a knight who traveled to strengthen his mind and body. The life of a wandering knight was simple: armed with a sword and accompanied by a horse and at most three retainers, they would travel the land for a minimum of one year, helping those in need along the way.

“In other words, a form of volunteer service,” Sylas thought.

This could mean hunting monsters that troubled villagers, punishing unjust landlords, or fighting in trial-by-combat on behalf of the wronged. They couldn’t encroach on a lord’s jurisdiction but were expected to assist the weak wherever possible.

“Are you serious about becoming a wandering knight?” the count asked.

“Yes, I’ve been considering it for some time now,” Sylas replied.

“Can’t you reconsider? The life of a wandering knight is far more challenging than you might imagine,” the count warned.

Leaving home was bound to be a hard life. With the limitation of only three retainers, constant travel would mean frequent changes in lodging, and comforts like regular baths would be hard to come by.

“I spent my youth as a wandering knight as well, but it was by no means an easy path. It’s better not to start at all than to give up halfway,” the count warned.

“But you managed to see it through to the end, Father. I wish to follow in your footsteps and refine myself,” Sylas replied.

“I admire your spirit, but wouldn’t it be better to wait until you’ve graduated from the academy?” the count suggested.

“By then, other matters may arise. This might be my only opportunity to live as a wandering knight,” Sylas replied.

“You have a point…”

Seeing Sylas’s resolve, the count hesitated. Despite its honorable nature, the wandering knight tradition was an old one, almost obsolete. In fact, the count himself had been one of the last of his generation to choose this path. Many of today’s younger nobles saw it as an outdated tradition.

“Let me be clear, though. The honor of being a wandering knight is rarely acknowledged in our time. Some even mock it. Are you sure you’re prepared for that?” the count asked, studying Sylas’s expression.

“I’m prepared,” Sylas replied firmly.

With a sigh, the count finally relented. Being a wandering knight was undoubtedly an honorable pursuit, though it came with many hardships and had lost much of its prestige over the years.

“Very well. If you’re truly set on it, I won’t stop you.”

“Thank you, Father,” Sylas replied.

“But remember, as long as you are a wandering knight, I cannot offer you any assistance. You will be on your own for the entire year,” the count reminded him.