Lord of Caldera - Chapter 216

Chapter 216: Chapter 216

“Not bad.”

“It’s fine quality.”

“As expected, since it comes from the prosperous Empire.”

Was that a jab? Bjorn looked at Ragnar without comment, but Ragnar’s face remained impassive, as if he hadn’t meant anything by it.

After a short silence, Ragnar emptied his glass and finally spoke.

“Why did you save me?”

“Save you?”

“You pushed me out of the way when the dragon was about to breathe fire.”

“Would you rather I hadn’t?”

Ragnar fell silent, unable to respond. Bjorn refilled both their glasses, then continued.

“If I hadn’t saved you, what would have happened?”

“…”

“You’d have died, and your warriors would have been decimated. The rest of us would have had to face the dragons with a fractured force. Even imagining it is grim.”

“If I’d survived just that moment, things would have been easier afterward,” Ragnar said, the underlying truth slipping out.

“If I’d died, the only remaining candidates would have been you and Rogain. Rogain is an excellent lieutenant and warrior, but he’s not suited to lead.”

The tribes were united solely because of Ragnar’s force of will. Without him, the tribes would almost certainly descend into infighting, and Rogain would lose his position as their representative. That would leave Bjorn as the sole candidate.

“As much as I hate to admit it, you have the qualities of a king,” Ragnar continued. “Even if you were elected by default, the northern nobles would have little reason to oppose you.”

Bjorn chuckled. “You have a high opinion of me.”

“Don’t brush this off with laughter,” Ragnar said sharply, his eyes piercing.

“Why did you save me? In that situation, no one would have blamed you for letting me die. It was the perfect opportunity to remove me.”

The two men’s eyes met in silence. After a moment, Bjorn sighed, surrendering to Ragnar’s intense stare.

“It’s complicated.”

“What?”

“You’re overthinking things,” Bjorn said, his tone almost weary.

Ragnar’s expression grew puzzled as Bjorn continued, sounding more like a lament.

“Politics, gain, reward… aren’t there things more important than those?”

“More important things?” Ragnar echoed.

“The lives of the people beyond the snowy wastes, for one.”

“…”

Without waiting for a response, Bjorn downed his wine in one swift motion and placed the glass back on the table with a soft clink, his expression resolute.

“I’ve fought often with the tribes beyond the snows. I know your situation well. You’ve been constantly divided, making unification difficult.”

“Unification” sounded admirable, but the reality was that Ragnar had forced the tribes together through sheer strength. Over the coming decades, this might lead to true unity, but if Ragnar disappeared before then…

“If you die, division will follow,” Bjorn continued. “And it won’t be a peaceful process. Those loyal to your ideals and those wanting to return to the old ways will end up spilling blood.”

“You’re right,” Ragnar admitted, his expression conflicted. He was painfully aware of this possibility.

“I didn’t want to see that happen. That’s all there is to it.”

“But those people aren’t your subjects. They’re people you might end up fighting against.”

Bjorn raised an eyebrow. “And shouldn’t a man who aspires to the throne embrace all Northerners as his people?”

Ragnar’s eyes widened. After a tense silence, he clenched his teeth and glared at Bjorn.

“So you’re already acting as if you’re king? Are you saying that even my warriors are yours now?”

“Does it sound arrogant?”

“Of course it does!” Ragnar growled, his hand tightening into a fist, a sudden urge to strike Bjorn rising within him. Bjorn merely chuckled and nodded.

“Perhaps it’s a bit arrogant.”

“As if you need to say it…”

“But isn’t that better than choosing which people to save and which to leave to die?” Bjorn replied. “It may be arrogant, but I’d rather strive to save everyone.”

Ragnar felt a flash of insight, as if struck by a hammer. He recalled the soldier who had come to him asking for aid.

You said you wanted to be our king. Is it a king’s duty to abandon his people?

And what had he answered?

You are not my people.

Ragnar closed his eyes. His decision had been practical, but how must that soldier have felt hearing those words? Would he have wanted to follow such a king?

After a prolonged silence, Ragnar spoke, his voice heavy.

“…Thank you for the drink.”

“Leaving so soon?”

“I heard what I came to hear.”

“Safe travels.”

With Bjorn’s farewell, Ragnar left the room, his shoulders weighed down as if burdened by an invisible load.

Viscount Thorbern had left, reluctantly accepting Sylas’s decision, but one noble after another came to Sylas’s door in an attempt to sway him.

“Lord Sylas, please reconsider!”

“There’s no one else suited to take the throne!”

“As a bastard, you won’t be head of your house anyway, so…”

“Shh! Watch your words!”

Nobles gathered around Sylas, some hoping to secure favor through him, others genuinely believing he was the best candidate for the throne. With the representatives present, nearly half of the northern nobles could be counted as Sylas’s supporters. But Sylas’s answer remained unwavering.

“I’m sorry, but I have no intention of becoming king.”

“What is your reason?” one noble pressed.

“Well, if you must know, I was born in the East, and there are other reasons as well…” Sylas’s explanation left the nobles speechless. He had joined the competition because of his northern bloodline, and now he was citing his eastern heritage as a reason to withdraw?

Though frustrated, they finally gave up. If Sylas himself was stepping down, what could they do?

“Let’s proceed with the vote then.”

“That’s the only choice we have. With Lord Sylas’s intentions so clear, we have no other option.”

The nobles sighed, caught off guard by the sudden turn of events, but prepared to move forward. As expected, Sylas’s withdrawal threw the northern populace into confusion.

“What do you mean Lord Sylas isn’t running for king?!”

“Is this some kind of political game?”

“No, he really stepped down!”

No matter how passionately the nobles explained, the people refused to believe it. Eventually, they had to ask Sylas himself to address the crowd.