Lord of Caldera - Chapter 146

Chapter 146: Chapter 146

It was a sacred northern vow, akin to a bond between brothers, where both parties pledged unwavering loyalty to one another, second only to the loyalty between a lord and vassal.

“Think you can handle that?”

“Will that be enough?” Bjorn asked, his tone firm. He knelt, bringing both knees to the ground and lowering his head before Sylas, in full view of everyone.

“I, Bjorn Veldyne, swear on this land, my blood, and by the Goddess who watches over all things.”

His voice echoed, filled with solemnity.

“I pledge to serve you as my lord. Please, accept this vow.”

Sylas looked at Bjorn steadily. This was an unexpected pledge of loyalty—his face showed little emotion, but his heart pounded in his chest.

“The loyalty of a lord.”

A knight’s loyalty was one thing, bound by duty to serve a liege and, if needed, find another to serve. But a lord was a leader in their own right, someone meant to wield power, not serve it. Such a vow of loyalty only meant one thing.

“To serve me as his king.”

Sylas closed his eyes briefly. This wasn’t a superficial pledge of loyalty, as he’d encountered in the West. Bjorn intended to follow him wholeheartedly.

“Do you know what you’re committing to?” Sylas asked.

“I understand perfectly,” Bjorn replied.

“Your people might not take well to this.”

The lord of a lord—the very concept was complex. For those who served Bjorn, it was bewildering. If they didn’t understand why their lord was pledging to another, it would stir resentment and confusion.

Sylas had no land, no title—just the modest status of a wandering knight and the strength of his two knights. There was every reason for Bjorn’s retainers to be wary, if not outright resistant. And with such an honest vow, that resistance would only deepen.

“Wouldn’t it be easier to—”

Sylas began, ready to suggest an oath of brotherhood as a middle ground. But before he could finish, someone from the gathered crowd stepped forward.

“Henrik?” Sylas said, recognizing him.

“Please forgive him for his lack of formalities. He’s a bit rough around the edges,” Henrik said, meeting Sylas’s gaze directly. Sylas had expected some pushback. As a retainer of Bjorn’s, Henrik likely felt protective over his lord and could have valid concerns about Sylas’s role here. Henrik took a deep breath, then knelt and called out loudly:

“I greet my lord’s liege!”

“…What?”

Henrik’s words shook Sylas. Henrik had just pledged himself as a vassal’s vassal, acknowledging Sylas as Bjorn’s liege. A stillness settled over the gathering, broken only when another follower of Bjorn knelt alongside Henrik.

“Please accept our lord as your own.”

That was the signal.

One by one, others began to kneel: close followers, common soldiers, their families—even the entirety of Falun eventually knelt. In the silence, a lone voice rose, carrying over the crowd.

“Please accept him as our lord.”

And then… silence. No one else spoke.

“They’re afraid,” Sylas realized. These weren’t educated people, and many lacked the means to express the depth of their feelings. Instead, they chose silence, fearing that any misstep might lead to Sylas rejecting Bjorn.

– Your Majesty, every gaze said. The sensation of being regarded as king by so many was electrifying.

Sylas exhaled deeply, trying to steady the surge of emotions within him. “Stand.”

“Will you accept him, then?” Henrik asked, his voice earnest.

“It’s just one more follower. Not like it’ll change anything,” Sylas said, his calm tone belying the intensity of his gaze as he met Bjorn’s eyes.

“Bjorn Veldyne,” he addressed him formally.

“Yes, my lord.”

“You are now my sword and the future king of the North.”

“…!”

The words stunned not only Bjorn but also Henrik, who froze. Declaring Bjorn king meant there was only one position Sylas himself would seek.

“If the dream is too heavy to carry, you’re free to let it go.”

“Never,” Bjorn replied, springing to his feet. “I’ll follow you, wherever you go.”

Sylas smiled. Good. As he led Bjorn back inside the inn, the gathered villagers erupted into cheers, marking the historic moment of the first meeting between the future King of the North and his lord.

Once inside the inn, they wasted no time convening a war council. Having declared their intent, it was only a matter of time before Greve’s forces would march toward them.

“What’s your plan?” Sylas asked.

“We’ll strike first,” Bjorn replied without hesitation.

“If we wait, they’ll likely receive reinforcements. We have to hit them before that happens.”

“But they’ve got a castle,” Sylas reminded him.

“A small one with no moat,” Bjorn countered. “It’s a castle in name only.”

A baron’s castle was hardly an impressive fortification—more a token structure than a true defensive fortress. With Sylas’s help, Bjorn was confident they could take it down.

“We’re also low on supplies, so we can’t afford a drawn-out conflict.”

“How much food do we have?” Sylas asked.

“If we scavenge every last bit, we’ve got rations for about two weeks,” Bjorn replied.

And that was only because they had few soldiers. Had their numbers been greater, they wouldn’t have been able to sustain themselves and would’ve had no choice but to act aggressively.

“The good news is that while our forces are small, theirs aren’t much better,” Bjorn added.

“That’s to be expected for a barony,” Sylas agreed. Keeping a standing army was costly, and Greve’s soldiers were likely just glorified guards.

Compared to his forces, Bjorn’s men were battle-hardened veterans. If they fought a proper battle, they could win swiftly.

“The problem lies in justification,” one of his advisors mentioned.

“Is a justification even necessary in this situation?” Sylas questioned.

“There’s ample reason to fight, but insufficient reason to occupy.”

“Ah,” Sylas hadn’t considered that distinction. Simply engaging in battle was one thing; occupying land was another matter entirely. Lords were rulers acknowledged by the empire. To drive one out and claim their land without cause would weaken their claim.

‘The best approach would be to bring in a relative,’ Sylas thought, considering a bloodline with a legitimate claim as a puppet ruler. In the years to come, this would become a common strategy, lending legitimacy by passing land to rightful heirs.