Lord of Caldera - Chapter 276

Chapter 276: Chapter 276

A house of unmatched wealth, unrivaled in its military strength, with few nearby rivals to keep them in check. Their territory also enjoyed seamless access to the capital.

If such a house turned against the Empire, it would be nothing short of a nightmare.

“Thus, it would be best to let this matter rest. Meddling unnecessarily may spark a small flame that engulfs the entire mountain in a wildfire.”

“Urgh…”

The Emperor scowled, but he knew he had no choice. His pride burned, but even he couldn’t hide the sun with his hands.

The imperial family remained silent regarding the rumors surrounding the Dragonslayer.

Though a bitter pill to swallow, their silence was interpreted as tacit approval of the claims.

This only encouraged the public to openly discuss Sylas’s incredible strength.

“Is the Royal Guard weaker than we thought? Losing to just one man….”

“Don’t be ridiculous! How could the Imperial Guard be weak? They’re the strongest knights in the Empire!”

“Still, they were all defeated in one blow!”

“That just means that one man is unbelievably strong! We’re talking about the Dragonslayer—the knight who slew six dragons single-handedly!”

Fortunately for the Emperor, the Royal Guard’s reputation didn’t suffer the decline he had feared. On the contrary, it even seemed to improve.

“Come to think of it, the Royal Guard is remarkable. They knew the Dragonslayer could crush them like twigs, and yet they challenged him without fear.”

“Do you really think so?”

“Absolutely! Just look at a troll—most people would wet themselves at the sight. And here’s the Dragonslayer, who can kill a troll like it’s an insect. Yet the Royal Guard still stood against him!”

The citizens of the capital chose to celebrate the courage of the Royal Guard while marveling at Sylas’s overwhelming power. This wasn’t purely out of admiration—it was partly self-serving.

While not nobles themselves, the citizens had grown up hearing tales of the Royal Guard’s heroics. Dismissing their childhood heroes was unthinkable.

Instead, they praised the bravery of the Royal Guard and elevated Sylas as a legendary figure to an even higher pedestal.

But was this good news for the imperial family?

Not at all.

“The Dragonslayer’s name is becoming too exalted, don’t you think?”

“There are even knights who have started worshipping him.”

“I hear people are traveling to the North just to see the dragons he’s slain.”

At the same time Sylas received his commission to oversee Drakenfels, a southern noble grimaced as he read the imperial decree delivered to him.

“A new lord is being sent to Drakenfels, and we are to assist him? What nonsense is this?”

He let out a scoff, half-laughing at the absurdity of it all. True, the position of lord had been vacant for years, and officially, the Emperor did hold the authority to appoint someone to the role.

But that authority was nominal at best.

Who in Drakenfels would recognize an imperial appointee as their legitimate ruler? Especially someone who wasn’t even from the South.

“Has the old man finally gone senile? Sending this kind of drivel as an official decree—what a joke.”

The noble crumpled the letter in his hand, his disdain evident. Around him, his retainers exchanged uneasy glances but dared not speak.

It was no secret that the South, especially Drakenfels, had long ignored imperial authority. The lands were a mire of intrigue, where power was measured not by decree but by cunning and bloodshed.

“Whoever this fool is, he won’t last long.”

With a sneer, the noble tossed the letter aside, already considering how best to exploit the situation.

Meanwhile, on the road to Drakenfels…

Sylas rode at the head of his small entourage, the imperial decree tucked safely in his belongings. The journey south had been uneventful so far, but the air grew heavier as they neared the infamous region.

“Drakenfels,” muttered one of Sylas’s retainers. “The stories make it sound like a land of nightmares. Are you sure about this, my lord?”

“Stories tend to be exaggerated,” Sylas replied with a faint smile. “But even if they aren’t, it doesn’t change what needs to be done.”

Another retainer, more seasoned than the first, chimed in, “The South is notorious for its underhanded tactics, my lord. Poison, assassinations, bribery—they’ll try everything to unseat you.”

“Let them try,” Sylas said simply, his confidence unwavering.

His retainers exchanged nervous looks but said no more. They had already witnessed Sylas’s power firsthand. If anyone could carve order out of the chaos of Drakenfels, it was him.

As the southern horizon came into view, Sylas tightened his grip on the reins, his eyes gleaming with anticipation.

“The South will soon learn who they’re dealing with.”

Back in Drakenfels

The same noble who had dismissed the imperial decree now sat in his study, deep in thought.

“An outsider in Drakenfels… it’s almost laughable. But even an outsider could become dangerous if they manage to establish a foothold.”

He tapped his fingers on the armrest of his chair, considering his options.

“Should I play along and wait for the fool to make a mistake? Or should I snuff him out before he even arrives?”

His musings were interrupted by one of his spies, who entered the room with a bow.

“My lord, news from the capital. The new lord of Drakenfels is none other than Sylas Corleone.”

The noble froze.

“Sylas Corleone?”

“Yes, my lord. The Dragonslayer.”

The spy’s words hung in the air, heavy with implication.

The noble leaned back in his chair, his earlier confidence shaken.

“The Dragonslayer? The one who crushed the Royal Guard single-handedly? That Sylas Corleone?”

For a moment, he said nothing, his mind racing.

“This changes everything.”

The sneer returned to his lips, though it was tinged with unease.

“A Dragonslayer, perhaps. But this isn’t the North, and dragons don’t fight dirty. Let’s see how he fares against the true monsters of Drakenfels.”

With a wave of his hand, the noble dismissed his spy and reached for a bottle of wine.

“Let the games begin.”