Lord of Caldera - Chapter 231

Chapter 231: Chapter 231

“But sometimes, sacrifices must be made for a greater cause. Rights claimed without paying the blood price are empty. More than that…” Arathion paused, looking at Sylas with a smile.

“I know you’re not aiming to take the throne by relying solely on us. I expect you’ll keep our involvement to a minimum, even thinking ahead to life after becoming Emperor.”

“…”

“Aren’t you already making various preparations? Just give us a foothold in your plans.”

He was right. Those who ascended the throne by relying on the power of others were always at the mercy of those benefactors. Even if the elves sided with Sylas, he had no intention of depending entirely on their strength. The elven army was enough as a show of force or a final trump card.

‘Is this the wisdom of experience?’

Sylas was secretly impressed. Arathion had correctly gauged Sylas’s ambitions with little more than an inkling and weighed the cost and blood price of the elves’ involvement as allies. Truly, he was worthy of his title as the Duke of Elves. After some thought, Sylas made his decision.

“Very well. I accept the marriage alliance.”

Though he had hesitated due to the weight of marriage, Sylas realized there was nothing to lose from his perspective. The more allies, the better, especially when preparing for something as monumental as his own ambition. And with Arathion, the so-called Duke of Swords, and a powerful elven army on his side, there was no need to hesitate. Arathion smiled with satisfaction at Sylas’s answer.

“A wise decision, indeed.”

“But there’s a condition,” Sylas added.

“A condition?”

“The marriage with Eldira will take place only after the goal is achieved. Marrying immediately might restrict my actions.”

“Hm, so be it,” Arathion agreed, though with a slight hint of disappointment. For those who were married, the burden of each step was incomparable. Nobles, especially, had much more to consider, whether they were elves or humans.

“Understood. But I’d like to at least discuss the engagement verbally. I assume you wouldn’t mind me sending an envoy to your family?”

“As long as it’s just talk, I have no objection. After all, we can’t keep everything secret.”

In fact, it was better to subtly hint at their relationship than to keep it completely under wraps. Knowing that Sylas’s relationship with the elves was deeper than expected might make any lord thinking of opposing him reconsider, potentially even switching sides entirely.

“Looking forward to working with you, Father-in-law.”

“And I as well, my son-in-law,” Arathion replied with a laugh, shaking Sylas’s hand. It was the moment a formal alliance between Sylas and the elves was established.

As their hands separated, Arathion seemed to recall something and spoke up.

“Now that we’re family, I have one favor to ask.”

“What is it?”

“There will be those who refuse to believe in your lineage, even with my endorsement. If possible, I’d like you to prove your bloodline before everyone.”

“Prove it?”

Sylas stroked his chin thoughtfully at Arathion’s words. The power inherited from the dragon’s blood was overwhelming strength. The only way to prove it was clear.

With a mischievous smile, Sylas looked at Arathion.

“Have you ever fought a dragon, Your Grace?”

“Unfortunately, not yet. My lands are peaceful.”

“Then, have you ever fought someone with dragon blood?”

“No, I haven’t…” Arathion, understanding Sylas’s implication, grinned fiercely.

“Today, I shall fight a half-dragon for the first time.”

Arathion and Sylas stood side by side in a clearing in the forest. Surveying the surroundings, they each spoke briefly.

“It’s been half a year since I’ve been here. Did you choose it for symbolic reasons?” Sylas asked.

“No, it was simply the widest place and best suited for crossing swords,” Arathion replied.

This was the place where a trade treaty between elves and humans had been signed and where Duke Arathion had beheaded Count Valdemar. Now, though it was merely a route for trading goods, it was a place full of stories for those involved.

“The stares are intense,” Sylas remarked, glancing at the elves gathered behind Arathion. Unlike the last time when the space was filled with armed soldiers, most of the elves wore no armor except for a few guards. Though hard to tell precisely, most seemed to be merchants or nobles. The problem was the burning hostility in their gazes.

“I don’t recall doing anything to earn such enmity.”

“Most of them suffered at the hands of the late count or were his retainers. It’s not that they bear a grudge against you personally, but rather, they dislike humans in general.”

“…Then why did you gather them here?”

“Of course, to have you prove your lineage,” Arathion replied lightly, inspecting the sword he intended to use for the duel.

“These are the very people who would oppose your marriage to Eldira more than anyone else. If they acknowledge your lineage, then who would dare dispute it?”

“I understand your intentions, Your Grace, but their stares are making me rather uncomfortable,” Sylas replied.

“Are you unsure of yourself? Or are you perhaps worried about an embarrassing defeat?”

“That’s the best joke I’ve heard in a while,” Sylas replied nonchalantly, brushing off the provocation. In truth, he found it hard to summon tension; after facing gigantic dragons, a human-sized opponent felt almost trivial. Noticing Sylas’s relaxed demeanor, Arathion’s gaze hardened slightly.

“If you rely too much on your bloodline and let your guard down, you’ll find yourself humiliated. Approach this seriously.”

“I understand,” Sylas replied, though his body seemed unwilling to fully comply. His muscles remained relaxed, despite his mind’s command to tense up.

Perhaps irked by this display, Arathion’s brow furrowed. ‘He’s overconfident—well, perhaps understandably so,’ he thought. Even without training, the sheer awakening of ancient powers rendered Sylas almost invincible. In an era where the power of dragon blood had waned, such arrogance could be excused. Still, Arathion felt it was his duty to remind the young man of the breadth of the world.

“I’ll allow you the first move. Come at me,” Arathion offered.