Lord of Caldera - Chapter 327

Chapter 327: Chapter 327 Sylas Allies
“To speak frankly… yes, I would.”

Halken met Sylas’s gaze with the look of a man who had accepted his own death.

“No matter how strong we are, the Crimson Wolf Mercenary Company has its limits. Even if we join this war, would it truly change anything?”

“Are you saying my defeat is inevitable?”

“As the commander, Your Excellency will survive and plan for another day. You can choose when and where to fight. We cannot.”

For Halken, this wasn’t merely about losing reputation or breaking their undefeated streak. The stakes were higher than ever—joining this war could mean the end of the entire company.

“Defeat on the battlefield is one thing; dying is another. Victory and survival are not the same either,” Halken said firmly. “Even if Your Excellency wins this war, how many of us will survive to see the end?”

Under normal circumstances, the Crimson Wolf Mercenary Company would be deployed as a trump card—a decisive force reserved for critical moments. However, in a war with such a disparity in numbers, the mercenaries would be sent to the front lines for every battle, forced to fight relentlessly.

“As commander, I cannot lead my men into an obvious slaughter. I’m sorry, but I must refuse this request.”

Halken bowed deeply, his voice heavy with regret. Silence fell over the room, oppressive and tense. As the stillness stretched, sweat began to bead on Halken’s back. Just as he opened his mouth to offer another apology, Sylas’s voice broke the silence with a hearty laugh.

“Hahaha!”

“Y-Your Excellency?”

“You, Halken, I like you,” Sylas said with a grin, resting his chin on one hand. “You’ve got a sly side, but you’ve earned my respect.”

Sylas’s unexpected reaction left Halken bewildered. After a moment, Sylas leaned forward and continued.

“In that case, how about this? I’ll grant you an entire barony.”

“What?”

“Oh, but of course, you’d have to swear loyalty to me and become one of my vassals.”

Halken’s jaw dropped. An entire barony? While Sylas likely meant the size of the land rather than an official title, it was still a staggering offer. Was Sylas truly saying he’d give him one of the rebel lords’ territories outright?

Halken nearly nodded instinctively but caught himself, steadying his thoughts.

“Even so, I cannot trade my men’s lives for land—”

“Who said land was all I’d offer? There’s more.”

“What?”

Sylas leaned closer and whispered something into Halken’s ear. Whatever he said, it struck Halken like a bolt of lightning. His eyes widened in shock as Sylas pulled back with a knowing smile.

“Well? Will you swear loyalty to me?”

“Command me, my lord!” Halken exclaimed, dropping to his knees without hesitation.

The offer was simply too good to refuse—not because of the immense rewards, but because of the second promise Sylas had made. It was a strategic element that could alter the entire course of the war.

“This war can be won!”

Trusting his instincts, which had saved him countless times before, Halken’s resolve solidified.

“The Crimson Wolf Mercenary Company has agreed to join our forces. That’s one less thing to worry about,” Sylas remarked, his smile calm and confident.

“That’s good news, but…” Baron Kaspar’s expression remained cautious. While recruiting the strongest mercenary company on the continent was a significant achievement, it hardly leveled the playing field. The numerical disparity still loomed large.

“You don’t look pleased,” Sylas noted.

“Apologies, Your Excellency. To be honest, I believe we’ll need even more power to have a chance.”

“And I’m already working on that. I plan to call on those I have connections with for support.”

“Support?”

“Yes. I’ll send messages to my father, Count Leonard; the Hernig family in the west; Grand Duke Arathion of the elves; and King Bjorn of the north.”

Kaspar froze at the list of names, each representing a ruler capable of turning the tide of an entire region.

“Do you plan to request armies?”

“Of course not. Their forces would run into countless conflicts with local lords before even arriving here.”

“Then you’ve prepared something in advance…?”

“No, I haven’t. I’ll send word now.”

“Your Excellency,” Kaspar said, struggling to contain his frustration. If armies weren’t an option and no prior arrangements had been made, how could Sylas expect timely aid?

“How long do you think it would take for any meaningful support to arrive after sending those letters?”

“At least two months.”

“By then, the allied forces will likely be wiped out,” Kaspar muttered, his tone strained as he fought to keep his words respectful.

Sylas’s faint smile didn’t waver.

“Did I say something amusing, Your Excellency?” Kaspar asked, frowning.

“No, I just think you’ve overlooked something basic.”

“Something basic?”

“You mentioned the enemy has six heads,” Sylas said. “And that cutting off one won’t stop the others.”

“That’s right.”

“But there’s one inevitable flaw in a multi-headed beast,” Sylas said, leaning closer. “Each head only cares about keeping itself intact.”

“…!”

“And I have the strength to cut off a head or two.”

Kaspar’s eyes widened as Sylas’s meaning dawned on him. Sylas continued, his tone confident.

“None of them will make the first move. They won’t risk being the first head to roll.”

The allied territories bordering Sylas’s newly conquered Glixborg included Gotland, Stolman, and Tibro. It was a situation where an attack from three directions was possible at any moment. Yet none of the rebel lords made a move.

“My lord, messages have arrived from Stolman and Tibro,” an attendant reported to Franz, ruler of Gotland.

“Tch. Let me guess—they’re urging us to lead the attack,” Franz muttered, opening the letters. His assumption was correct: both letters stated that Gotland should initiate the attack, and the others would follow.

Franz ripped the letters apart in frustration.

“Idiots. If they’re so eager, why don’t they go first?”

“My lord, wouldn’t it be better to act rather than remain idle in this standoff?” one of his retainers asked cautiously.

“And why should I go first?” Franz snapped.