Lord of Caldera - Chapter 341

Chapter 341: Chapter 341 Surrender?
“There’s no need to worry,” Zamed assured him. “Though it takes a little time for the effects to manifest, once it’s ingested, there’s no saving the victim.”

While they hadn’t tested it with elixirs, ancient records indicated that even elixirs couldn’t reverse its effects. By modern standards, it was considered incurable.

“Besides, the main ingredient is dragon bile. It might not work on an actual dragon, but he isn’t one, is he?”

“True. Those Corleone fools may claim to be descended from dragons, but that’s just an old myth.”

The idea was almost laughable. The same people who boasted of slaying dragons also claimed to be their descendants. It was a contradictory legend, full of absurdities.

“Alright, then. What’s our next step?” Gerdt asked.

“First, we’ll draft the surrender document,” Zamed explained. “I’ll smuggle in the poison. Fortunately, I have the perfect tool for the job.”

Inside the tent, the three lords began to outline their plan. If it succeeded, they could overturn everything. But if it failed, it would be a direct path to ruin. They chose to believe in the former, convinced this gamble would save them.

“The three remaining lords have all declared their surrender?”

“Yes, sir. They’ve even sent surrender documents bearing their family seals,” the aide confirmed.

Sylas stood atop the crumbling castle wall, his brow furrowed. What were they thinking? Surrendering now? Surely, they knew he had no reason to accept.

“Allow their envoys to enter.”

“Yes, sir.”

Shortly after, a group of envoys appeared before Sylas. Judging by their luxurious attire and impeccable manners, they were clearly of noble blood—likely close relatives of the lords.

“To the rightful heir of Drakenfels, Dragon Slayer, Demon Slayer, and Savior of the North—His Excellency—”

“Cut the nonsense. You’re here to surrender, correct?”

“Y-yes, that’s correct,” one envoy stammered, flinching at Sylas’s cold demeanor. The attempt to flatter him had failed miserably.

“Do you have the surrender documents?” Sylas asked.

“Here they are. All the lords of the alliance have united in one mind and heart to—”

Sylas ignored the envoy’s words and opened the documents. Most of the content was filled with praise for him and apologies for their supposed foolishness. Considering their previous insults and treachery, the sudden shift in tone was almost laughable. Sylas smirked, but his expression shifted when he reached the final clause.

“They don’t want land or wealth—just their lives spared?”

Though the wording was formal, the essence of their plea was the same. This shocking condition caught Sylas slightly off guard. Weren’t nobles supposed to prefer death over losing their titles and estates?

“Yes, sir. They’ve offered everything in exchange for the survival of their families.”

Sylas paused to consider. He could take his time and eliminate all three of them, but that would mean prolonged battles that would leave the fortress in ruins and his forces exhausted.

‘It’s better to take everything intact if possible,’ he thought.

Sensing Sylas’s hesitation, the envoy spoke quickly.

“As I mentioned, they are willing to offer everything in exchange for the survival of their families. And they request that this agreement be sealed with a Blood Oath.”

“A Blood Oath?” Sylas repeated, unfamiliar with the term.

“It’s an old southern tradition,” the envoy explained.

Sylas glanced at Isaac, who stepped forward to elaborate.

“It’s a ritual where two parties mix their blood into wine and drink it. It symbolizes engraving the promise into their bloodlines and ensures that the oath cannot be broken.”

“Sounds… unsanitary,” Sylas remarked.

“Pardon?” Isaac blinked in confusion.

“Nothing, just thinking aloud. I’ve never heard of this tradition. Was it common?”

“It disappeared long ago. Hardly anyone wanted to perform it,” Isaac replied.

“No one wanted to?” Sylas asked.

“Breaking a Blood Oath would ruin one’s honor completely, so no one dared make such a promise. This is the south, after all—the home of deception and schemes.”

“Ah, I see.”

In short, southerners preferred contracts that could be annulled or betrayed when convenient, as opposed to a binding ritual that left no room for dishonor.

“Just to confirm, agreeing to this doesn’t mean I have to protect them afterward, right?”

“No, sir. As long as it doesn’t involve your interests, they’ll be responsible for their own safety.”

“That’s not bad,” Sylas said, finishing his conversation with Isaac before turning his attention back to the envoys.

“Fine. I accept the surrender. We’ll decide on the details of the ceremony through written communication.”

“Thank you for your mercy, Your Excellency!”

The envoys, elated, quickly retreated. The news of the alliance’s surrender brought a celebratory mood to Sylas’s camp. A war that initially seemed like a disadvantageous struggle had ended in overwhelming victory.

The retainers stretched their shoulders, relieved they could finally rest. However, Ray wore a concerned expression.

“Master, are you sure about this?”

“About what?”

“I’m worried. Those cornered often resort to desperate tricks. What if they’re targeting your life?”

“There’s no need to worry about that,” Sylas replied confidently.

The enemy’s options were limited. An ambush or assassination targeting Sylas was nearly impossible. At most, they might attempt poisoning—and Sylas almost welcomed such a move.

“That’s precisely why I’ve been keeping unnecessary food tasters around until now,” he added with a smirk.

Once their surrender was accepted, the alliance immediately began preparing for the ceremony. The final condition they requested before surrendering was straightforward:

“Until the Blood Oath is completed, we cannot rest assured. Let us meet at the border of both armies to conduct the ceremony.”

In other words, they wanted to bring their armies and meet Sylas’s forces at the middle ground, ensuring the ceremony was held in a mutually guarded location. It was a clear indication that if Sylas broke the terms and tried to kill them, they would fight to the death.

“How dare these surrendering fools set such conditions!”

“Your Excellency! Put these insolent dogs in their place!”

Sylas’s nobles bristled with indignation, but he waved them off. “It’s fine. I would’ve doubted it too in their position. It’s not an unreasonable condition.”