Lord of Caldera - Chapter 147

Chapter 147: Chapter 147

‘But they were met with heavy criticism at first,’ he mused. It only became widely accepted as others followed suit. The first person to employ this tactic was heavily criticized, leaving a dark precedent in history. Eventually, he was hunted down and killed for his deeds.

“This is frustrating,” Sylas muttered to himself. He could win in battle but couldn’t secure occupation. Without control, resupplying troops and supplies would be impossible, leading to certain defeat.

“Do you have a map? Show me where Baron Greve’s territory is.”

“Please wait a moment.” Henrik pulled a small, somewhat poor travel map from his coat. Though not suited for military use, it at least indicated general borders and paths. Henrik pointed to a section on the map.

“Here’s Falun, and over here is Baron Greve’s domain.”

“…?” Sylas blinked, staring at the map. Was he mistaken?

“This is Greve’s land?” he asked.

“Yes,” Henrik confirmed.

“But I thought it had a different name.”

Elmholt. That had been the name given to this land before his return. The map, however, bore a completely different name.

“Ah, originally it was Elmholt.”

“Why did it change, then?”

“It changed when the Baron took ownership. He didn’t like the original name.”

“Aha,” Sylas chuckled, understanding that Greve wasn’t born into nobility but later acquired the land. The original lord likely fell out of favor with the emperor or neighboring lords and was ousted.

“Well, that makes things easier. Justification is no longer an issue.”

“Excuse me? Does this mean you have a solution?” Henrik asked.

“Yes, and it’s a perfect one.”

It wasn’t strictly orthodox, but Sylas now had a justifiable claim—one that only he could wield in this land.

“Is that true?” Baron Greve’s current lord, Philip Greve, frowned upon hearing his son Larius’s report.

“It seems he’s not thinking straight, Father. To challenge us with only Falun at his side?”

Falun was close to exile, and most men there had war experience. But even accounting for that, their numbers were too low.

“To think he’d attempt a siege with such a small force,” Philip thought, exasperated. Larius, looking nervous, glanced at his father.

“Father, should we request aid from the Viscount?”

“Aid? We can handle this ourselves.”

“But we don’t know for sure…”

Seeing his son’s anxiety, Philip clicked his tongue. His son had potential but was overly cautious.

“If we truly faced a crisis, I’d ask for help. But do you think this counts as a crisis? If we can’t fend off this small force, what would the Viscount think of us?”

“You’re right, of course,” Larius muttered, hiding his concerns about their numbers. Philip calmly continued, “War isn’t solely decided by fighting strength or numbers. Remember, why did your uncle Marius go to Falun?”

“For food supplies… Oh!”

“Exactly. They have no supplies,” Philip smirked. Any noble knows the importance of supply in battle. More than one ruler has lost battles for lack of food.

“An army without supplies will collapse on its own. We only need to defend the castle.”

“But what if a noble from the Corleone family joins them? From what I hear, his knights are formidable warriors.”

In large battles, individual knights make little difference, but in smaller skirmishes, a single knight can be overwhelming. However, Philip remained unconcerned.

“It doesn’t matter. If he has any sense, he won’t join the war.”

“Why do you believe that, Father? What if Bjorn promised him a reward?”

“It’s not about rewards. He lacks the justification to occupy this land.”

Even if they won the battle, an unprovoked occupation would be deemed unlawful, angering the imperial family. In the north, where imperial decrees held sway, seizing land without reason was a form of treason, inviting attacks from every side.

“Even if they avoid occupying this land, challenging the Viscount directly would be madness.”

In the end, whether Bjorn seized land or directly attacked the Viscount, he would be doomed to fail. Philip was confident that anyone with proper training would refuse Bjorn’s alliance.

“So, there’s no need to worry.”

“Of course, Father!” Larius agreed, relieved. Just then, a messenger burst into the room.

“Sir! There’s urgent news!”

“What is it? Has Bjorn arrived?”

“No, my lord! Sylas Corleone has issued a declaration of war against you!”

“What?!”

Both Philip and Larius shot to their feet in shock. Why would a Corleone declare war, not Bjorn?

“Hand it over!”

“Yes, my lord!” Philip grabbed the war declaration from the messenger and read it. The wording was formal.

Since you have failed to rule properly, you disgrace the imperial authority. Therefore, I shall reclaim this land.

The problem lay in the justification written for taking the land.

“With the authority as the grandson of Norman and the son of Lyria, I shall expel the lord who defiles my ancestor’s homeland? Just who are these two?”

As Philip expected, the declaration of war should have come from Bjorn, accompanied by a lengthy justification for their actions. But what arrived was unexpected, both in content and sender; it wasn’t from Bjorn but someone else entirely.

“What connection does the Corleone bloodline have to this land?” Philip yelled, tossing the declaration aside in disbelief. Norman and Lyria? These names meant nothing to him, yet the document claimed this land was their homeland.

“Find out immediately who Norman and Lyria are!” he ordered.

“Yes, my lord!” The administrator, flustered by the baron’s fury, scrambled to search through records. After nearly a full day of rifling through documents, he finally found traces of their names and reported back, his face pale.

“I… I found them, my lord. Their names are listed in the local registry.”

“Well, let’s hear it! Who were they? Knights? Relatives of the former lord?” Philip pressed.

“Well…,” the administrator hesitated, barely able to bring himself to say it. Just as Philip was about to lash out in anger, the man whispered, “They were commoners.”

“What?” Philip’s eyes narrowed.

“Not nobility. Norman was a hunter who lived here 17 years ago, and his daughter was named Lyria.”