Lord of Caldera

Chapter 139

"And what should I have done?" Bjorn shot back, his voice sharp as he glared at Sylas. "If I had fought, it would have been civil war. If I fight now, everyone will die! Both choices were the worst options. At least this way, less blood is shed."

With no other option, Bjorn had put down his weapons to ease his uncle's suspicion, taking on the role of an innkeeper to fill his days. Few guests came, but it kept him from being overwhelmed by boredom. The only constant disturbance was the occasional clash with Baron Greve's men, who took every opportunity to assert their power.

"But at least there's no more bloodshed. That's something, isn't it?" Bjorn said, as if trying to convince himself. Toby and Ray were silent, taking in the heavy story.

Sylas, without a word, placed two more gold coins on the table. Bjorn blinked, surprised.

"What's this?"

"Payment for your story."

Bjorn's gaze wavered. It was, in a way, charity, and it tugged at the remnants of his pride. But the reality of their desperate situation made it hard to refuse. With a sigh, Bjorn tucked the coins into his pocket.

"Thank you."

"No need to thank me." Sylas replied with a smirk, then added, "Giving a beggar a handout isn't worth much thanks."

The room fell silent.

It wasn't Bjorn, Toby, or Ray who reacted first but the middle-aged men, Bjorn's former subordinates, who had been listening from a distance.

"You rotten bastard!"@@@@

"How dare you insult him!"

"Kill him!"

Their shouts filled the room, and they looked ready to lunge at Sylas. Though they knew he was a noble, their anger was overpowering.

"Enough." Bjorn raised his hand.

"But, sir—"

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"Are you planning to send out a substitute?" Bjorn asked, knowing nobles often had a representative in duels since not all nobles practiced swordsmanship. When life and honor were truly at stake, sending a substitute was common. But Sylas shook his head.

"No, I'll face you myself."

"..."

"What's the matter? Are you scared?" Sylas taunted.

Bjorn couldn't help but mutter a curse. "This madman." He had some training, sure, but he thought this young, slightly built noble wanted to face him personally. What was first bewildering gradually turned to irritation; did Sylas really see him as so insignificant?

"Don't regret this," Bjorn said.

"Then go get your weapon," Sylas replied as he rose from his seat, heading out of the inn as if leading the way. Bjorn let out a scoff, bemused by the younger man's confidence.

What could he possibly be counting on? Perhaps he was some prodigy of swordsmanship in his territory? "Whatever the reason, it doesn't matter." The fact remained that this kid had insulted him, and there was only one thing left to do.

"Alex."

"Yes, my lord?"

"Bring me my axe."

The two men stood facing each other outside the inn, putting distance between them. One was a youth who had barely come of age; the other, a seasoned warrior exuding strength and aura. If people were betting, every single one would put their money on Bjorn.

"I'll give you one last chance. Withdraw the insult and apologize," Bjorn said, extending a measure of mercy. A duel was sacred, never something to take lightly, and it must never end without due seriousness. This was his way of offering a reprieve.

Sylas, however, only dug his finger into his ear and smirked. "Stop stalling and pick up your axe. It's embarrassing."

A vein pulsed on Bjorn's forehead. "This bastard."

"Guess I'll have to break something to knock some sense into him." Bjorn thought as he adjusted his twin axes in each hand. It had been nearly half a year since he'd wielded them, but the weight felt as familiar as if he'd swung them just yesterday.

"Ready?" he asked.

"Whenever you are," Sylas replied.