Lord of Caldera - Chapter 300

Chapter 300: Chapter 300 Why Weren’t They Opposing Him?

Toby hesitated, then sat as instructed. Sylas recounted everything—his encounter with Isaac, the events in Esslingen, and how Lydia had cleansed Isaac of his demonic energy.

“…and that’s how it happened,” Sylas concluded.

Toby leaned back, processing the story. Ray and Max seemed less affected, their expressions calm.

“Well, that’s good news,” Ray said. “Now his bloodline won’t be a problem.”

“Exactly. Life sounds like it’s been rough for you,” Max added, his tone sympathetic.

Ray’s reaction reflected his pragmatic nature; as long as Isaac served Sylas loyally, nothing else mattered. Max, likely due to his own past as an assassin, seemed similarly unfazed. In their eyes, Isaac’s history was no more damning than their own.

Toby sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “If that’s the case, I suppose it’s fine.”

Isaac let out a relieved breath, wiping the sweat from his brow. It was like watching a nervous recruit pass a test.

Relaxing slightly, Isaac grinned. “I didn’t expect to meet a Baston heir, though.”

Toby raised an eyebrow. “Why wouldn’t you? Did you think my father wouldn’t have descendants?”

“Well, when your family manor disappeared, I assumed no one remained,” Isaac replied.

Toby stiffened. “What do you mean, ‘disappeared’? The manor wasn’t destroyed.”

Isaac blinked. “You didn’t know? The manor in Malossi was burned down by the new lord.”

“What? Why?” Toby growled, his voice a low rumble of anger. His eyes glinted dangerously.

Isaac flinched but continued hesitantly. “I’m not sure. I assumed it was revenge. Your father was untouchable while he lived, so they waited until he was gone to act.”

“The servants? What happened to the people staying there?” Toby pressed, his voice rising.

“I…I don’t know,” Isaac admitted, his voice faltering.

“Damn it!” Toby cursed, raking his hands through his hair. His anger was palpable as he paced the room.

Finally, Toby stopped and faced Sylas. “My lord, I need to go to Malossi. I have to see for myself.”

“Malossi? How far is it from Esslingen?” Sylas asked.

“It’s a neighboring territory. If I ride hard, I can get there in a day,” Toby said, pointing to the location on a map.

Sylas studied the map briefly, his expression unreadable, then shook his head. “No.”

“What?” Toby’s voice cracked with frustration.

“You’re not going alone,” Sylas said firmly. “We’ll handle our business here first, and then we’ll go together.”

Toby froze, his eyes widening. Sylas’s words carried more than solidarity—they implied that if it came to confronting the new lord, Toby wouldn’t face it as a lone knight but with the authority of Count Drakenfels behind him.

Swallowing the lump in his throat, Toby bowed deeply. “Thank you, my lord.”

Sylas waved dismissively. “No need for thanks.”

For Sylas, it wasn’t a favor—it was a matter of principle. Anyone who dared harm his people would answer to him personally. His gaze turned icy as he studied the map, his mind already plotting the visit to Malossi.

Sylas’s decision to delay matters for a few days was due to internal restructuring. With the sudden change in leadership, confusion was inevitable. He needed to ensure there would be no dissent during his brief absence.

“Even if Christoph himself doesn’t intend to stir up trouble, there’s always the risk of a loyal vassal or a misguided zealot taking independent action,” Sylas mused.

History was replete with examples of subordinates who acted on their own whims, regardless of their lord’s intentions. The frequent claims by founders of dynasties—”I had no desire for power, but everyone insisted I take the mantle”—illustrated this well. It was an excuse that found credibility precisely because it had often been true.

Sylas thought further, “Of course, if someone rebels openly, that wouldn’t be so bad. It would give me an excuse to make an example of them through a purge.”

Having made his calculations, Sylas summoned all of Christoph’s vassals. He explained the situation and made his announcement.

“…Therefore, I will temporarily oversee the lord’s duties. I expect everyone to follow my orders without question.”

The signet ring he held carried authority for official tasks such as decrees, but it could not sway human hearts. That was why he had gathered them—to address their concerns directly. Sylas braced himself for the inevitable resistance.

The knights glared at him and responded, one after another:

“Yes, we understand.”

“If the lord wills it, we have no choice.”

“We will await your commands.”

“….”

Their unexpected compliance left Sylas momentarily stunned. Why weren’t they opposing him? Normally, resistance would be the natural reaction when a stranger assumed control.

When he voiced his surprise, Toby burst into laughter.

“In the South, it’s not unusual for the ownership of a domain to change hands. While a few may feel uneasy, most will simply accept it as a matter of course.”

“Still, isn’t this more about principles than loyalty? It seems like they’re lacking the basics as knights.”

“They’re not as bad as you think, my lord. At the very least, they fulfill their obligations as specified in their contracts.”

Southern knights, as Toby explained, focused more on their contractual relationship with a noble house than personal loyalty to an individual lord. As long as the terms of the contract were honored, they didn’t concern themselves with the particulars. If an enemy lord invaded with an army, they would react, but if someone gained the lordship through legitimate means—be it schemes or agreements—they would follow the new leader.

“Your method, on the surface, appears legitimate, doesn’t it? Regardless of the underlying context, Christoph willingly handed over the signet ring, so they’ll comply.”

“….”

Sylas finally understood. While other regions aspired to the chivalrous relationships of storybooks, the South operated more like a business. Whether the chairman was replaced or board members vied for the position, the workers simply did their jobs. Contracts, after all, were made with the corporation, not individuals.

“But if they break the contract and switch allegiances, they’re considered traitors. I suppose, in a way, they’re adhering to chivalry,” Sylas thought.

In noble society, individuals were subsumed into their families. In extreme cases, even the family head could become a pawn for the family’s benefit. The fact that knights chose to serve the family rather than an individual was not inherently problematic.

“Still, after spending years as lord and vassal, wouldn’t there be some bond?” Sylas asked.

“Only if there’s emotional connection. When lords treat their knights like chess pieces, there’s no bond to form,” Toby replied.