Lord of Caldera - Chapter 164

Chapter 164: Chapter 164

Bjorn muttered blankly, “Uncle, what kind of mess did you stir up before you died?”

“It’s not his doing,” Sylas replied to Bjorn’s muttering. “That guy likely caused some trouble first, and your uncle couldn’t manage it.”

“If we offer up my uncle’s head, would that settle things?”

“Not a chance.”

What he wanted was to become king, recognized by all the lords of the North and ruling officially as their monarch. The identity of the land’s owner was merely a secondary issue. Even if the lord changed, it would just mean someone else to confront.

“Let’s go out there,” Sylas said.

“It’s dangerous,” Rey protested, holding him back with a worried voice. “He’s like us.”

“I know.”

“If a fight breaks out, we might not be able to protect you.”

“I know that too.”

Before Rey could say anything more, Sylas spoke first. “Their commander is brazenly challenging us, and the leader on our side can’t stay safe behind the walls.”

Hearing the decisiveness in his tone, Rey could only bow his head quietly, though Bjorn voiced a small complaint.

“Uh, technically, I’m the lord of this land now.”

“And I’m your lord. Any objections?”

“No.”

Bjorn’s timid resistance was swiftly squashed. Sylas turned and made his way to the gate.

“Let’s go. It would be rude to ignore an invitation to a feast.”

Sylas, Bjorn, Toby, and Rey exited the gate. Bjorn came as the lord of the land, and Sylas as his lord. Toby and Rey accompanied them as Sylas’s guards. Seeing the four of them, the barbarian laughed heartily and stood up.

“You’re late. I thought I’d grow old waiting.”

The barbarian army remained at a distance, showing no signs of advancing. Despite the possibility of facing four-to-one odds if things went south, the man’s confidence never wavered. Was it faith in his strength, or sheer bravery?

“Lugres didn’t show up, I see. Are you his representatives?”

“No.”

“Huh, if you acted on your own, wouldn’t that friend of yours have something to say later?”

“Unlikely.”

Sylas made an ambiguous reply, glancing at Bjorn. Bjorn pulled something from a pouch at his waist.

“As you can see, he’s in this state.”

The man’s face lost its smile as Lugres’s head was placed on the feast table.

The man looked at Lugres’ head for a long moment. After a pause, he lifted the bottle of alcohol and took several large gulps. When half of it was emptied, he set it down with a sharp sound.

“Is this a rebellion?”

“It’s just reclaiming what rightfully belongs to me,” responded Bjorn. The man’s gaze shifted to him.

“Rightful claim? Are you an heir?”

“A nephew. The former lord was my father.”

“Ah, so you’re the one Lugres always despised…”

The man’s words trailed off, but Bjorn stared sharply at him in contrast.

“I owe a considerable debt from years ago. While my uncle couldn’t repay it, I fully intend to.”

“Haha.” The man laughed at Bjorn’s resentful tone. It wasn’t mocking; it sounded more like a hollow laugh of regret. He emptied the rest of the bottle and muttered, “It’s unfortunate. He was a good friend.”

“I don’t think my uncle was the kind to be a good friend to anyone.”

“No, he truly was a good friend.” The man’s face, once filled with a weak smile, sharpened like a predator, showing his teeth. “He was prideful but quick to compromise, harsh to the weak but yielding to the strong. If you gave him a convenient excuse, he could easily be manipulated.”

“…!”

“What else would you call a good friend if not that?” With the mask of calmness stripped away, a face driven by the lust for conquest was revealed. As Bjorn’s face hardened, the man clicked his tongue as he looked at Bjorn’s throat.

“If only he had lived a bit longer. I had hoped he would kneel before me with this land still under his control.”

“Are you here to conquer this land?”

“No. At least not yet,” he said, shaking his head with a smile. “Come to think of it, I haven’t introduced myself.”

Sylas stared at him. Before his return, he had never met him in person. But among barbarians leading such a formidable army, only one could fit this description.

“Ragnar. You can call me Chief Ragnar.” Ragnar’s face, baring his teeth in a grin, looked every bit like that of a wild beast.

“Chief…” Bjorn murmured, stunned. In their lands, the term “barbarians” referred to all tribes beyond the snowy borders. These tribes weren’t united; they often quarreled among themselves. Each tribe had its own chief.

“But a Chief of Chiefs…” That title had only appeared once in history—by Agrim, the first leader to unite the tribes and threaten the entire North. Since then, no one had ever claimed it again.

“Have the people of the snow united?” Bjorn asked. The “people of the snow” was how the barbarians referred to themselves. Ragnar burst into laughter.

“If they hadn’t, I wouldn’t be Chief of Chiefs, would I?”

“Hmm.” A low groan escaped from Bjorn. The arrival of a Chief of Chiefs posed a significant threat to the entire North. This was something that should be reported to every lord immediately.

“That won’t be necessary,” Ragnar interrupted.

“What are you talking about?”

“You plan to announce my rise as Chief of Chiefs, don’t you?”

“…”

“Everyone already knows. All six border lords, save for you, have decided to align themselves with me,” Ragnar said casually, his tone calm. Bjorn’s expression shifted. What did he just say? Had all the northern lords, who should defend against the barbarians, joined forces with the Chief of Chiefs?

“That can’t be!”

“Regrettably, it is reality. Shall we meet the other lords together, or perhaps I could call them here?” Ragnar’s tone was light, but Bjorn felt the weight of the words, swallowing hard. This wasn’t just any development. The entire northern region could break away from the Empire.

And as his thoughts led him further down that line, Ragnar’s intentions became clearer.

“Are you here to bring me under your command?”

“Yes. I made the offer to Lugres, but even though the war has delayed it, I still extended the deadline.”

That damned uncle. He managed to ruin things until the end. At least fulfill your responsibilities as family, Bjorn cursed inwardly.

Ragnar stared at Bjorn and continued, “It’s a simple choice. Will you follow or oppose me?”

“It doesn’t seem like much of a choice. I’ll oppose you.”

“A wise decision… huh?” Ragnar laughed heartily, then tilted his head. Wait. Did he hear that wrong? Did this northern lord just declare his opposition to the Chief of Chiefs?

“So, you’re saying you’ll follow me?”

“I said I’ll oppose you.”