Lord of Caldera - Chapter 266

Chapter 266: Chapter 266

“I heard you told Rozier: ‘If you have nothing to offer, don’t even bother proposing.'”

“Indeed, I did.”

Maximilian continued, ignoring the hint of sarcasm.

“Does the title of duke still fail to satisfy you?”

“As a man, one should always aim higher.”

“In that case, what about becoming king?”

“…!”

The bait exceeded even Sylas’s wildest expectations, causing his eyes to flicker.

That the Crown Prince would utter the word “king” was beyond Sylas’s expectations. Momentarily speechless, Sylas quickly collected himself and asked,

“A king? Surely, Your Highness jests.”

“I am serious.”

“Even if I were appointed king, who would follow me?”

A king was, after all, the ruler of an entire region, requiring the agreement of its vassals to maintain power. While it might be possible to crush dissenters with force under different circumstances, such actions were impossible under the Empire’s rule.

“A king without recognition is no king at all,” Sylas pointed out.

“You persist in testing me,” the Crown Prince replied. “You already have a region that recognizes you.”

“I’m not sure what you mean,” Sylas said evenly.

“The West.”

Sylas neither confirmed nor denied it, but his silence was as good as an acknowledgment.

“I know of your substantial influence in the West. You have deep ties with the head of the Hernig family and the Elven Duke.”

“I won’t deny it,” Sylas admitted.

“Then what more needs to be said? Even if you ascend as king, there will be no opposition.”

The Crown Prince was correct. In the West, no one would object to Sylas taking the throne. Any who dared to oppose him would find their trade routes severed and their lands withering away.

A rational person would simply shout, ‘Long live King Sylas!’

“The West is practically already in your grasp,” the Crown Prince continued. “But as a shadowy figure behind the scenes, your power has limits. Do you not wish to make all that influence truly your own?”

“Hmm.”

The proposal was undeniably enticing. If he became a king, he wouldn’t just influence the West from the shadows—he could rule it outright, as his own domain. It would greatly aid his future plans.

But the fact that the Crown Prince offered such bait meant that the price he sought in return was just as significant.

“What does Your Highness want in exchange?”

“As I have already said, I want you to become my sword.”

“And I am to trust Your Highness based on this promise alone?”

“Of course not. An empty verbal promise is the most meaningless thing of all.”

The Crown Prince grinned and pulled out a sheet of paper from his pocket. At first glance, it appeared ordinary, but it emitted a subtle glow, revealing its extraordinary nature.

“What is this?”

“A Geass Scroll.”

Sylas’s body stiffened. A Geass Scroll—a relic capable of imposing an absolute command on the signee. Breaking the contract would result in instant death, as one’s heart would burst.

“What is the contract?”

“I don’t ask for much. There is but one person I wish dead. Become the King of the West, and then eliminate them for me. That is my sole condition.”

It was, on the surface, an appealing deal. Sylas would undoubtedly make enemies, perhaps even lifelong adversaries among certain families, but the reward—a kingdom of his own—was worth the risk.

The Crown Prince, confident, smiled triumphantly.

“Well? Do you accept the contract?”

“No.”

“Of course, I expected hesitation. In that case, sign—wait, what?”

“I said no.”

Sylas returned the Geass Scroll to the stunned Crown Prince, whose bewildered expression said it all.

“W-why?”

“Because I suspect the person in question is Bjorn.”

“…!”

The Crown Prince fell silent, his expression confirming Sylas’s suspicion. Smiling faintly, Sylas continued,

“Your Highness likely envisioned a conflict between the Kings of the West and North. In the chaos, my family would also be dragged into the fray. That way, you could strengthen imperial authority through opportunism, correct?”

“You dare accuse me of such baseless speculation?”

“My apologies if I’m wrong, but Your Highness’s reputation suggests otherwise. Such schemes are entirely in character for you.”

The Crown Prince’s face flushed red with fury. Words seemed to fail him, his lips trembling with unspoken retorts.

“Your Highness,” Sylas said, his tone suddenly firm, “remember this: I am the son of the House of Corleone, the betrothed of the Elven Princess, the lord of the Herning family, and a close friend of Bjorn.”

“And what of it?”

“Unfortunately, Your Highness’s expectations are misguided. We will not fight one another. On the contrary, if the Imperial family lays a hand on any one of us, we will unite against it.”

The implication was clear: Stay in your lane. Do not dream of consolidating imperial power at the expense of the lords.

Understanding the veiled threat, the Crown Prince trembled with rage.

“You dare… you dare…!”

“I dare indeed. I suggest Your Highness take a closer look at reality and, when you ascend the throne, act accordingly.”

If you don’t, I’ll pull you down myself.

Suppressing those final words, Sylas turned and walked away. Moments later, an animalistic howl erupted from behind him. Hearing it brought a sense of relief, as though a decade’s worth of frustration had been lifted.

That must have stung, brat.

Though the Crown Prince had shown some cunning, his greed had blinded him. To anyone thinking rationally, the proposal had been doomed from the start.

My influence in the West is already sufficient. Gaining imperial recognition would only become a liability later.

Becoming a king would grant great authority in the short term, but the moment conflict with the Imperial family arose, that authority would crumble like paper.

To use imperial-given power against the Empire itself was a contradiction. Better to refuse such power from the beginning.

A rebellion started by someone with nothing to lose would face less opposition.

As Sylas pondered his future plans, a thought struck him.

“…Now, where was I supposed to go again?”

After wandering for hours, Sylas was finally found by a gardener and escorted back to his quarters.