Lord of Caldera - Chapter 167

Chapter 167: Chapter 167

“Wait for my return,” Sylas instructed as he prepared to leave. He didn’t need soldiers, just a few to oversee his two territories.

“Veldaine is secure, I assume?”

“You’ve already appointed officials?”

“No, some of the officials who originally supported me still remain.”

Apparently, even Lugres had concerns about a potential administrative gap, so the officials remained unchanged. For Elmholt, Sylas decided to leave it under Rotten’s continued supervision.

“Please,” Sylas said.

“…Understood,” Rotten replied with a difficult expression, nodding in agreement after his contract with Philip had been terminated due to lack of funds. With everything settled, Sylas stepped out with his retainers.

“Alright, let’s go,” he announced.

“Bold, aren’t you?” the commander of the Snowflake Knights remarked, narrowing his eyes at Sylas’s attitude.

“Do I have any reason not to be?” Sylas responded.

“You are a criminal.”

“Then why don’t you bind my arms and drag me along?” Sylas offered mockingly.

The commander clenched his jaw, unable to respond. If Sylas were truly a traitor, such treatment would be warranted, but the situation was more complicated. Sylas looked at the commander, a small smirk on his lips.

“Let’s skip the pointless power games and just do what we’re here to do,” he suggested.

The commander’s frown deepened, but he kept his silence, acting as if he hadn’t heard a word. Sylas, too, refrained from saying anything further. He climbed into the carriage brought for his “detainment,” and his retainers followed.

“We’re moving!” the commander called, and so began the peculiar “escort.” Toby glanced at Sylas in bewilderment.

“My lord, what did you write in that letter?” he asked, still unable to grasp the nature of Sylas’s actions. Although the Snowflake Knights seemed to treat him with respect due to his Corleone lineage, there was still the fact that he had been summoned on charges of “treason.”

“Treason… I never thought I’d hear that charge outside of books,” he muttered.

“Oh, it was nothing serious,” Sylas replied nonchalantly.

Indeed, it wasn’t serious—he’d written just one line.

“I asked if he would be interested in crowning a king together.”

The retainers were speechless, silently screaming inside. It really is treason.

The journey to Marquis Serge’s domain was a comfortable one, and upon arrival, Sylas was impressed by what he saw.

“This feels like an entirely different place,” he observed.

Most of the North was harsh and barren, a place where people used every means possible—legitimate or otherwise—to survive. But Marquis Serge’s territory was a world apart, bustling with people, traders, and a vibrant energy.

“Incredible!” Bjorn exclaimed, even more astonished than Sylas. He had never imagined that such a place could exist in the North.

“The Marquis awaits you,” a knight informed Sylas.

“Just a bit longer. Let me take a look around,” Sylas replied.

“Are you aware of your position?” the knight snapped.

“Then arrest me if you must,” Sylas shrugged, repeating the line he’d been using since the start of the journey, silencing the knight once more. After surveying the surroundings for a while longer, Sylas murmured, “He’s invested quite a lot here over many years.”

“Many years?”

“This kind of structure doesn’t change in a day or two,” Sylas explained. Judging by the various amenities and trade facilities, they had likely poured resources into development for decades.

At a minimum, this was a project spanning at least 50 years, likely started by the current lord’s predecessor or even further back. Treason? More like he’s been steadily building his domain’s strength.

If he were truly loyal, he wouldn’t risk the cost, labor, or potential failures of stimulating trade and commerce on this scale. No, his ambitions ran deeper.

“Let’s go,” Sylas said, ending his inspection and making his way inside. However, Bjorn, Toby, and Rey were stopped at the entrance.

“You alone may enter. No guards are permitted,” a knight informed him.

“My lord…” Rey’s hand moved to his weapon, and the Marquis’s guards gripped their weapons in response.

Quick, Sylas noted, sensing the readiness of the guards despite the tension. He tapped Rey’s shoulder, stepping forward.

“Wait here.”

“But my lord, it’s dangerous.”

“It’s fine. If they wanted to harm me, they wouldn’t go through this whole show. It’s just an insurance policy.”

“Take care,” Rey replied reluctantly, watching Sylas walk forward with a mix of trepidation and respect. Sylas’s calm demeanor left them wondering if he was a criminal or an invited guest. A few of the guards frowned but said nothing.

“This way,” a knight directed him, leading Sylas to a secluded room, ideal for private conversations. As the door opened, a deep voice spoke from within.

“So, you’ve arrived.”

Inside, Sylas saw a face full of wrinkles and hair as white as snow. The man looked old enough that death could come at any moment, yet he radiated a powerful presence, rivaling even Ragnar’s. He was a figure like an old lion.

“Leave us,” the Marquis instructed the knights who had escorted Sylas.

“But, my lord—”

“I said, leave us.”

Reluctantly, the knights retreated, closing the door behind them with a sharp click. The Marquis’s gaze grew intense as he held up a letter, his fingers flicking it.

“They say you sent this letter.”

“Yes, I did,” Sylas replied.

“Then this will be a simple matter,” the Marquis said coldly, indicating the contents of the letter.

“Sylas Corleone, traitor to the Empire, is there anything you wish to say before I charge you?”

“Why am I considered a traitor?” Sylas asked, his expression unapologetic, prompting the Marquis to furrow his brow.

“What else would you call advocating for a king’s coronation if not rebellion?”

“But a king, not an emperor,” Sylas corrected.

“It’s been centuries since the title of king was abolished.”

Once, kings did exist in the Empire’s territories, ruling their regions while pledging loyalty to the Emperor. But as imperial power strengthened, the title of king gradually disappeared, eventually replaced by titles like prince-electors, grand dukes, and dukes—mere honorary positions for powerless royals. Even suggesting the revival of the grand duke title would cause an uproar.