Lord of Caldera - Chapter 284

Chapter 284: Chapter 284

“Baron Harald is dead?”

Christophe frowned as the messenger delivered the news. Failing the assassination was one thing, but how could the man end up dying himself? Especially since the new Count had reportedly already left the estate.

“How did he die?” Christophe demanded.

“It appears he mishandled a black lion.”

“A black lion?” Christophe’s eyes narrowed.

The messenger calmly recounted the details: how Harald had purchased the black lion from the White Jewel Merchant Guild, intended to present it as a gift to the Count, and how he entered the cage after the Count’s departure only to be mauled. Christophe’s face twisted with disbelief and disgust.

“What an idiot.”

It was easy to deduce the baron’s plan—lure the new Count into a trap disguised as a gift and let the lion do the rest. Yet the fool had managed to outsmart himself. The sheer incompetence left Christophe almost speechless.

“I thought he was shrewd, if underhanded, but it seems he couldn’t even see the pit at his feet.”

“What should we do with the now-vacant territory?” the messenger asked.

“Send the baron’s son, the one we’ve been keeping as a hostage, to take over as the new lord. At least he can’t be worse than his father.”

Christophe had previously dismissed the son as less capable than his scheming father. But after witnessing Harald’s laughable end, his opinion had shifted.

“The boy may lack cunning, but he’s steady. He won’t pull such idiotic stunts as his father did.”

With that decision made, Christophe quickly erased all thoughts of Baron Harald from his mind. He was, after all, just a pawn. His death was no real loss.

“But even small losses accumulate into significant setbacks if left unchecked.”

While Harald’s blunders were regrettable, the new Count himself posed a more pressing problem. The Count was clearly no pushover. Offering him another sacrificial pawn would be a waste. Christophe turned to his trusted lieutenant.

“Send word to the lords under my command. Tell them not to obstruct the new Count’s passage. Open the roads for him.”

“Yes, my lord.”

There was no sense in relying on lesser men to handle something beyond their grasp. If the new Count was to be dealt with, Christophe would see to it himself.

“Consider it an honor, dragonslayer.”

Despite his undeserved reputation, the so-called successor to Drakenfels would face his reckoning at the hands of Christophe himself. His eyes glinted with a deadly determination.

“Surprisingly few lords have tried to stop us,” Sylas remarked, glancing back as he passed the third territory on their route. Not a single lord or knight had appeared, only a few guards stationed at the gates.

“Have they lost the will to resist?” Ray speculated quietly.

“If they had, they’d be rushing to flatter me instead,” Sylas replied.

If the southern lords had truly accepted Sylas as the new Count of Drakenfels, they would have been scrambling to win his favor. Yet not a single one had come to meet him, which was a mystery in itself.

“What could they be planning?” Sylas mused aloud.

“My guess is they’re waiting to see how things play out,” Max suggested. “Southern politics tend to be cautious. They might just be biding their time.”

“That’s one possibility,” Sylas conceded, though he wasn’t entirely convinced.

There were specific circumstances where political fence-sitting made sense: either when one’s house was unaffiliated with any faction or when facing an overwhelmingly powerful adversary. But neither condition seemed to apply here.

“The South has been embroiled in civil wars for decades. Most houses would already be tied to one faction or another. And as for overwhelming power… that’s laughable.”

Sylas had brought only three retainers, no army, not even a mercenary band. There was no way anyone could mistake them for an unbeatable force. If anything, the lords should be scheming to crush him.

“Toby, what’s your take?” Sylas asked.

“I can’t claim to know everything about the South, even as a native,” Toby replied. “But if I had to guess, it’s either what Max said, or someone has explicitly told them to leave you alone.”

“Someone?” Sylas’s eyes narrowed.

“The head of their faction, most likely,” Toby said with a casual shrug, leaving the matter at that.

“Guess I’ll find out soon enough,” Sylas said.

Ahead lay Esslingen, one of the largest cities in the South and the seat of the self-proclaimed heir to Drakenfels. Every lord they had passed so far likely belonged to his faction.

“Let’s see how he reacts.”

To the pretender of Drakenfels, Sylas would be an eyesore, a direct challenge to his claim. If Sylas passed through unopposed, it would be telling. Either way, a confrontation seemed inevitable.

“Where are you coming from?”

At the gates of Esslingen, Sylas was stopped by a knight. He smiled faintly, glancing around. The area was swarming with elite soldiers, their polished armor gleaming in the sunlight.

“Transparent.”

Placing so many elite troops on gate duty and having a knight personally conduct inspections was absurd. They clearly knew Sylas was coming and had prepared accordingly.

“What’s so amusing?” the knight asked, narrowing his eyes.

“How could I not laugh?” Sylas replied. “A land so prosperous that it uses elite knights and seasoned soldiers as mere gatekeepers. What a marvel.”

“….”

The knight’s expression twisted, unsure whether to take the comment as a compliment or sarcasm.

“Enough nonsense. State your identity,” the knight demanded, his tone sharp.

The blunt order made Toby and Ray bristle, tension rising behind Sylas. Max, as usual, edged back slightly, ready to retreat if things turned violent. Sylas, however, remained calm, producing an official document.

“Here. A decree from His Majesty the Emperor,” he said.

“A decree?” the knight asked, accepting the document.

“It names me as the next lord of Drakenfels,” Sylas explained.

The knight’s expression darkened as he read the decree. Finally, he looked back at Sylas with cold eyes.

“Why are you staring like that?” Sylas asked.

“This is a forgery.”

“A forgery?” Sylas repeated, raising an eyebrow.