Lord of Caldera - Chapter 205

Chapter 205: Chapter 205

“Ingenious,” Thorburn muttered, unable to hide his amazement.

“It’s just basic statesmanship,” Sylas replied with a humble smile.

One by one, the other nobles nodded in agreement, expressions brightening as they understood the brilliance of the plan.

“This is a sound method,” one said approvingly.

“I support it as well,” chimed in another.

Ragnar, too, found himself in agreement. For the barbarians, Sylas’s plan was even more appealing than the traditional duel. After all, the entire purpose of the duels was to win the people’s support through a show of strength. Sylas’s method promised to rally far more supporters.

“Excellent. It seems everyone is on board,” Sylas declared with a grin. A few nobles still looked tense, but he paid them little mind, especially since those few were likely candidates who now had to prove themselves.

“Now that we have agreed on the trial method, let’s strategize on how to confront the dragons,” he said.

In Marquis Serge’s castle, now serving as their command center, Sylas scanned the assembled leaders. Both northern nobles and barbarian chiefs were present, filling the room with a formidable aura of power. The sight confirmed to him why the imperial throne had always feared a united North.

‘If these forces move as one, even the Imperial Palace would be at risk,’ he thought. Two dragons, at least, could likely be slain by this gathering alone.

However, with no king yet in place, command was fragmented. Without a centralized authority, it would be challenging even to bring down a single dragon. Sylas knew they needed a unified strategy.

“Before we make a plan, let’s agree on our approach,” Sylas announced. “Do we strike first, or do we wait until they attack?”

The room fell silent as the gathered leaders pondered the question, uncertain of the best course. Finally, one of the northern commanders spoke up.

“Do we need to attack at all? There’s a chance the dragons may move elsewhere,” he suggested.

The dragons were still distant, seemingly content to hover and observe. If they moved on, they’d avoid a potentially catastrophic battle.

But a counterargument quickly followed.

“That’s naïve. What if they strike first? They could turn this place into an inferno,” said a barbarian commander, earning nods from others.

Sylas inclined his head in agreement. “I share that concern. There are too many people gathered here for the king’s selection. If even one dragon flies over the walls, it’ll cause widespread panic, and we’ll struggle to maintain order.”

It would be far better to meet the dragons outside and contain the battle to combatants alone. Many commanders nodded, agreeing with Sylas’s assessment.

“But there are four of them,” someone pointed out. “You may take one, and the Chieftain may take another, but two remain.”

“Don’t worry about that,” Sylas said, baring his teeth in a confident grin. “My retainers are quite capable.”

Sylas’s proposed formation was straightforward. He would lead the first unit, Ragnar the second, and Sylas’s retainers, Toby and Rey, would take command of the third and fourth units. The remaining candidates would be divided among other units, tasked with maintaining order, protecting the townsfolk, and providing reinforcements if the situation turned critical.

“This all sounds reasonable, but can we really entrust a unit to mere knights?” one noble interjected, casting a skeptical glance. “These units will be facing dragons head-on, and we barely know their skills.”

The nobles were uneasy about entrusting such a crucial position to relatively unknown figures, especially since any achievements of these knights would ultimately count as Sylas’s own.

Bjorn stepped forward to address the concern. “I can vouch for their abilities.”

“That may be so, but—” the noble began, still doubtful.

“They could face the Chieftain himself and have a fair chance of winning,” Bjorn replied calmly.

The nobles went silent, barely able to process the claim. Could these knights truly match Ragnar, that monstrous warrior?

“Heh, a bit of an exaggeration, don’t you think?” Ragnar said, his tone skeptical.

“It’s not,” Bjorn replied. “Isn’t that so, Chieftain?”

Ragnar’s face twisted slightly, displeased with the turn of the conversation but unable to deny the truth. “I haven’t fought them, so don’t make assumptions.”

“Then let me put it another way,” Bjorn pressed. “Do you believe you could defeat both of them together?”

“….”

Ragnar’s silence spoke volumes. The nobles felt a chill as they realized the implications.

‘That monstrous warrior doubts he’d win even one-on-one, and sees a two-against-one as certain defeat?’

‘And Sylas Corleone has knights of this caliber under his command…’

Several nobles swallowed hard, increasingly unsettled by Sylas’s ever-expanding capabilities. But Sylas only shrugged nonchalantly.

“Looks like my knights have proven themselves. Satisfied?” he asked.

“Yes… quite,” the noble stammered. With knights who could hold their own against the Chieftain, there was no room left for objections.

“Then let’s split into units without further delay. Who knows when those beasts might decide to attack?” Sylas said, spurring the assembly to action.

As the meeting ended, the candidates dispersed to organize their respective units and prepare for their assigned roles. Karl, moving at an unusually relaxed pace, was abruptly grabbed by the arm.

“Come with me,” Serge hissed, his face pale and tight with anger.

“…Very well.”

Karl nodded, noting the Marquis’s expression, and allowed himself to be led. Serge dragged him toward a dark, unused storeroom in the castle, away from any prying eyes, and only released him once they reached the far corner.

“You… you fool!” Serge growled.

“Calm down,” Karl replied, smirking despite his father’s fury.

Taking a deep breath to rein in his anger, Serge asked, “What in the world have you done?”

“Done? I’m not sure what you mean,” Karl replied, feigning innocence.

“The dragons, Karl!”

“Why are you asking me about that?” Karl’s voice was smooth, unruffled by the accusation.

Serge’s hands shook with barely controlled rage. Had he been holding a sword, he might have struck Karl on the spot. “You suggested it yourself—bring in dragons to disrupt the trial, sabotage the election, and ruin the king’s selection altogether.”

“I don’t recall,” Karl said coolly.