Lord of Caldera

Chapter 93

That evening, Ulrich headed to the mansion's garden, carrying the elixir and a small container of wasabi he'd swiped from the kitchen. When he arrived, three people were already there: Toby, Max, and Sylas.

Sylas got straight to the point as soon as he saw Ulrich.

"Welcome, brother. Did you bring the necessary items?"

"If you mean the wasabi, I have it," Ulrich replied tersely.

"No, no, that's not what matters. The important thing is the elixir," Sylas corrected him with a confident smile.

Grinding his teeth in frustration, Ulrich pulled the elixir from his coat, holding out the entire amount he'd used previously.

"Will this be enough?"

"Perfect," Sylas said, snatching the vial and passing it to Max, who carefully wrapped it in cloth and tucked it away. The three of them couldn't suppress their grins now that such a precious item had landed in their hands.

"I see you're pleased," Ulrich said, "but let's not forget our deal. You promised to restore my honor."

"Yes, that's true," Sylas replied. "Frankly, you're in a dangerous position right now, aren't you?"

"You talk as if it's someone else's problem. I'd say this is all because of you," Ulrich retorted.

"Oh, really? Isn't it more like you stabbed yourself in the gut while swinging your sword around?" Sylas shot back, his tone laced with sarcasm.@@@@

Ulrich's face flushed with anger, but neither of them found the situation strange, despite the sudden dropping of their usual façades. They both knew the truth—that they were two of a kind. Beneath their carefully crafted public images, they were both foxes in disguise.

"Enough. What's the point of arguing over the past?" Ulrich said dismissively.

"Now, that's the mark of a leader, brother—focusing on the future rather than dwelling on the past," Sylas teased.

With a sigh, Ulrich reviewed the lines. It wasn't a long speech, so memorizing it wasn't difficult. After reading it about five times, he handed the paper back to Sylas.

"I've memorized it. Let's get this over with as quickly as possible," Ulrich said, clearly eager to be done.

"Understood. Everyone, take your positions. Toby, Max, you know what to do," Sylas directed.

"Got it," Max said, sprinting to his designated spot, while Toby moved to block the entrance to the garden. The servants assigned to tend to the garden were taken aback when they saw him there and stammered in confusion.

"M-my lord, we need to attend to the garden..."

"Wait just a moment. The two young masters are having an important conversation. It won't take long, so stay back for now," Toby instructed. Find exclusive stories on My Virtual Library Empire

The servants, unsure of what else to do, backed away reluctantly. They weren't about to make a scene if they were only being asked to wait.

Toby had no intention of blocking them for long. He knew that for rumors to spread, there first had to be witnesses. Glancing over at Sylas and Ulrich, Toby held his position and waited for Max's signal.

Meanwhile, Count Bill was sitting in his study, taking deep sips of wine. He wasn't one to drink often, but on a day like today, he couldn't help himself. Dani was one thing—he had always been a reckless troublemaker. But for Ulrich, the son he had always been so proud of, to do something like this...

"Is this my punishment?" Bill muttered, taking another drink. Perhaps it was a consequence of abandoning his wife for another. But another thought weighed on him just as heavily.

"Still, isn't this punishment far too severe for the crime?" he wondered bitterly.

It wasn't just that his sons had tried to kill each other—Ulrich had tried to enslave his own sibling, using his life as a tool. It was an unspeakable act. Gordon, watching his master continue to drink, spoke with concern.

"Your Grace, this is your third bottle. For the sake of your health, perhaps you should stop."

"I thought I'd stop once I felt the effects. But strangely, I can't seem to get drunk. I used to get tipsy after just a little wine," the count replied with a sigh.

"Your Grace..." Gordon murmured, at a loss for words. He couldn't even imagine the depth of the count's anguish. Any attempt at comfort felt like it would only add insult to injury.