Lord of Caldera

Chapter 137

"Security here seems intense. Did the commander get assassinated or something?"

Sylas's mockery didn't go unnoticed, and the guard's face immediately darkened.

"Watch your mouth, my lord," the guard warned.

"A commoner shouldn't be speaking to a noble that way," Sylas retorted coldly.

"But a soldier of the Veldyne family certainly can speak that way to a mercenary knight," the guard shot back, making it clear that a knight without connections had no business disrespecting a soldier with backing.

Sylas recognized the Veldyne family name, a name he'd heard before his return from an old comrade:

"They were a well-regarded viscount family in that region, well-respected by many."

Given the guard's attitude, the family clearly held significant influence here—enough for a commoner to challenge a noble openly. Puffing out his chest, the guard asked again, "I'll ask one last time. What's your business here?"

The guard's arrogant voice echoed confidence, as if he wouldn't repeat the question again. When Sylas glanced over, he saw Henrik clenching his fists in frustration. Sylas and his companions were technically Henrik's guests, making the guard's behavior an insult to both them and Henrik. Sylas's voice turned icily calm.

"Sylas Corleone. Here on knightly duties."

"Corleone? And just where might that be? Wait... Corleone?"

The guard initially prepared to scoff, but he paused, eyes widening.

"Don't tell me... you're from the Corleone family of the East?"

"The same family founded by the dragonslayer Leonik," Sylas confirmed.

The guard's face turned pale. Realizing his mistake, he stepped aside, trembling slightly. "I... I apologize, sir! I didn't recognize you!"

"Just step aside," Sylas commanded.

The guard quickly moved out of their way, his earlier arrogance nowhere to be seen. Once they were inside, Henrik, looking surprised, turned to Sylas.

"Are you from a famous family?"

"Fairly well-known. You haven't heard of us?"

Henrik scratched the back of his head, looking sheepish. "I didn't get much education."

In a world where most people lived and died in the villages they were born in, it wasn't unusual for common knowledge across the continent to be unknown in certain places.

"Understandable," Sylas said, shrugging.

"Bastards!"

"Sir, please make a decision!"

"Just say the word, and we'll take them down!"

"Enough!"

The innkeeper's shout silenced the men around him. Once calm returned, he looked toward Sylas and his companions.

"Guests, we'll talk later. Leave us for now."

The men grumbled but retreated. Sylas stepped closer, examining the innkeeper. Beneath his leather clothes, his muscular frame and grizzled beard made him look at least ten years older than he was.

"Bjorn."

Here stood Sylas's former comrade, the one he had once chosen as the rightful king of the North.

"Shop's open; come on in," Bjorn said with a nod.

"Then we won't decline," Sylas replied, striding over to take a seat at one of the tables. The middle-aged men around seemed like they had more to say, but after a moment of hesitation, they moved back. Bjorn crossed his arms, his thick muscles bulging as he did.

"Lodging or a meal?" he asked.

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"Are you a noble yourself?" Ray inquired, noting Bjorn's self-assured tone.

Bjorn nodded without hesitation. "Bjorn Veldyne."

"Veldyne?" Toby muttered, narrowing his eyes. "The man you were arguing with earlier also mentioned the Veldyne family, didn't he?"

Bjorn's face grew bitter. "It's a long story. I've had some... difficulties with my kin."

Ray didn't press further; it was impolite to pry into personal issues unless the other person chose to disclose them. Toby put down a glass of water with a huff.

"Now then, is it a meal or lodging?"

"Start with the price," Sylas replied.

"Lodging is three silver coins, and a meal is one silver coin," Bjorn said.

"What?" Toby and Ray exchanged shocked glances at the steep price. Even for the high prices in the North, this was excessive. Bjorn averted his gaze, clearly aware of the ridiculous price.