Lord of Caldera - Chapter 217

Chapter 217: Chapter 217

Sylas stepped before the northerners and spoke his truth.

“I was never interested in the throne. My purpose was simply to ensure that no unworthy person would sit upon it. Now that only worthy candidates remain, I am stepping down. I ask for your understanding.”

His words were a mixture of sincerity and a carefully crafted excuse. A few nobles exchanged skeptical glances.

He expects us to believe that?

“Ahh! What noble intentions he has!” one man cried.

“We can’t stop him if he steps down with such honor…”

“Still, it’s a shame. He would have made a great king!”

The nobles could hardly believe it. It’s actually working? they thought, staring at the citizens who were now nodding in agreement. Sylas, catching the stunned expressions of the nobles, flashed them a confident smile.

The words of a hero are hard to doubt, he mused to himself.

As long as he held this legendary status, people would believe whatever he said. If they saw him as a saint, they’d believe he could turn dirt into wine. Besides, the remaining candidates were all formidable in their own right. While people would miss Sylas’s leadership, they respected the others enough that the sense of loss was tempered.

“With Lord Sylas stepping down, only three candidates remain…” one murmured.

“More like two. Isn’t Rogain simply the chieftain’s right hand?”

“Then it’s settled who will take the throne, isn’t it?”

Among the citizens, those with insight began speculating about who would emerge victorious. As murmurs spread through the crowd, Viscount Thorbern stepped forward and raised his voice.

“Quiet, everyone! We will now begin the voting!”

The crowd instantly fell silent, and Thorbern’s voice rang out again.

“Candidate Rogain, please come forward and make your statement.”

Rogain nodded and climbed onto the platform. Clearing his throat, he addressed the gathered crowd.

“I am honored to be a candidate for the throne, but I am fully aware of my own limitations. Rather than seeking the throne myself, I choose to support Chieftain Ragnar as the true king of the North!”

It was an unsurprising declaration, and many nodded in acknowledgment.

“For many years, the North has grown weak,” Rogain continued. “The glory of the past has faded, and we have been preoccupied merely with survival. We’ve spilled much of our own blood fighting each other. Now, we need a strong king to heal these wounds. No one is more qualified than Ragnar!”

Rogain’s short, passionate speech resonated with many in the crowd, who nodded in agreement. A strong king was what the North needed to unify, and none seemed better suited than Ragnar.

The northern nobles, however, frowned at the atmosphere Rogain’s words had created.

Look at him, conveniently ignoring Ragnar’s intention to go to war with the Empire, thought one noble.

Sure, you might not fight each other, but what good is that if a great war breaks out?

Not a lie, but as crafty as any fox, another noble thought, watching Rogain with a scowl.

Despite the nobles’ glances, Rogain smiled, clearly satisfied with the mood he had fostered.

“I have spoken my mind. I will now step down.”

“Very well. Next…” Thorbern turned his gaze to Bjorn, who quietly followed Rogain up to the platform.

As all eyes focused on him, Bjorn spoke in a calm but resonant voice.

“I seek the throne myself and will cast my vote accordingly.”

This, too, was expected. Bjorn scanned the crowd thoughtfully before speaking again.

“In the recent battle, we relived the glory of the past. A time when the North shone brighter than ever, a light from an ancient age lost to us for too long. I know none among us were left unmoved by that sight.”

A large number of northerners nodded vigorously. As people with the heart of the North, they all felt the thrill of witnessing such legendary feats, as if they were watching the heroes of ancient tales come to life.

“But glory is fleeting,” Bjorn continued. “We must return to our lives. We are not heroes but people fighting to survive each day.”

The crowd fell silent. His words might have seemed like a letdown, but they were a grounding reminder of reality.

“People of the North, I know the excitement you feel in your hearts. But before we are men who dream of glory, we are fathers of families. Would you rather die in honor, joining the great glory? Or would you prefer to be fathers who can feed their children well?”

After a pause, Bjorn went on.

“I choose the latter. I want prosperity over glory, to see my children full rather than to die an honorable death. That is why I support myself, for I know no one else shares this vision.”

As Bjorn finished his speech, he looked out at the northerners again. Many stared back in quiet reverence, the thrill of battle cooling as they turned to their families, as if waking from a long dream.

“Aah…”

Among them, a woman’s tears flowed silently. She was the widow of a man who had died, intoxicated by dreams of glory. Her face bore the marks of years spent struggling to feed her family, and she looked at Bjorn with a silent gratitude.

Thank you.

It was as if he’d spoken for her, reminding these men who dreamed of battle to look at the families beside them. Her long-held wish had finally been granted.

Bjorn gave her a gentle smile as he stepped down from the platform. In the solemn silence, Thorbern turned to the final candidate.

“…Chieftain.”

“I understand.”

Their exchange was brief, and Ragnar and Bjorn exchanged a glance as they passed each other.

What will you do? was the question Ragnar thought he saw in Bjorn’s gaze.

Ragnar climbed the platform and closed his eyes, considering. All he had to do was vote for himself, and he would be king of the North. He had proven his worth, and no one could deny it. Even if he didn’t rival Sylas, he had shown himself worthy.

“I…”

After a long pause, Ragnar opened his eyes and spoke.

“…support Bjorn Veldain as king.”