Lord of Caldera - Chapter 346

Chapter 346: Chapter 346 Provocation
“Truly, His Majesty is remarkable! I had regretted not being able to grant titles to those who earned them, yet he went out of his way to address this oversight!”

“…!?”

Everyone, including the southern nobles and Rozier, stared at Sylas in stunned silence. Was he being sincere? His unexpected reaction left them scrambling to decipher his intentions.

Rozier, however, narrowed his eyes in suspicion.

“Your Excellency, this isn’t the time to be laughing—”

“But,” Sylas interrupted, his laughter abruptly stopping as he fixed Rozier with a piercingly cold gaze.

“I worry that the Crown Prince lacks His Majesty’s brilliance,” Sylas said, his tone turning icy.

“W-what? Why are you bringing up the Crown Prince now—”

“Such a shame!” Sylas exclaimed, slamming the armrest of his chair hard enough to break it as he stood.

“His Majesty is so wise and capable, yet I fear his successor will ruin everything! Surely, even this decree was made against the Crown Prince’s objections!”

“Wh-what are you saying!” Rozier stammered.

“His Majesty is truly a great ruler! A sage king! If only the Crown Prince possessed even half of his wisdom!”

Rozier’s mouth fell open in shock at Sylas’s audacity. The southern nobles were equally stunned, their confusion quickly giving way to realization as they noticed Sylas’s sharp gaze.

“The emperor’s proposal benefits us—it grants us titles, which is no small favor.”

“Accepting it would make our houses indebted to the imperial court for generations.”

“But if this is framed as solely the emperor’s decision, it changes everything.”

In feudal systems, debts to one ruler often extended to their successors, binding generations in loyalty. But there was a critical exception:

“If the successor is incompetent enough to squander their predecessor’s legacy…”

“That debt is considered paid in full. In fact, it can even justify removing the successor.”

In essence, Sylas’s words were a declaration of enmity toward the imperial court. While he would remain compliant during the emperor’s reign, all bets were off once the Crown Prince ascended.

Sylas’s unspoken message echoed clearly in the minds of the nobles:

“The imperial court is now my enemy. Choose your side—me or them!”

The southern nobles swallowed hard. This was practically an invitation to a future rebellion.

Though some hesitated, their decisions didn’t take long. One by one, they rose and shouted:

“Indeed! How could the Crown Prince fail to inherit His Majesty’s brilliance!”

“The future of this empire is bleak! Long live His Majesty!”

“…!”

Rozier paled as the nobles rallied behind Sylas’s subtle provocation.

Rozier was too stunned to speak. Sylas’s outright verbal attacks were shocking, but they could have been dismissed as provocations. What left Rozier truly speechless was the reaction of the southern nobles.

“They’re siding with him? Have they all gone mad? That man just implied rebellion!”

It was true that the imperial authority wasn’t what it used to be. Few nobles genuinely pledged loyalty to the throne anymore. But rebellion was different—it was an act that shattered tradition, order, and centuries of established norms. Any reasonable person should instinctively reject such a notion.

“Why are they so quick to align with him?”

Sylas smirked as he watched Rozier’s confusion.

“Fool. Just because you can scheme a little, you think you control everything? At least try to understand the bigger picture.”

To Sylas, both the Crown Prince and Rozier epitomized the type of “foolish intellectual” who lacked awareness of broader realities. They were skilled in calculation and manipulation but utterly blind to the true state of the world.

“They still believe the imperial authority shines as brightly as it did under the first emperor.”

While the imperial family still commanded respect, their governance had failed to meet expectations. The belief that a capable emperor could restore the throne’s glory and loyalty with a few decisive actions seemed naive to Sylas.

“Do they seriously think things are that simple?”

Before his return, Sylas had traveled across the empire, gauging public sentiment toward the imperial family. The results had been grim.

The western provinces resented the throne for ignoring their struggles with monsters. The northern regions loathed the empire’s manipulation of food supplies to control them. Even the eastern provinces, the most loyal to the throne, had begun to view the imperial family with growing skepticism.

And the south? Their disdain for the empire was unmatched.

“They have no power to inspire fear, no virtue to command respect, and no resources to offer. Why should we bother with the imperial family?”

Those were the words of Brahim, Sylas’s predecessor, spoken in private. No one dared agree openly at the time, but Sylas was certain many had shared Brahim’s sentiment.

The imperial court lacked the strength to impose its will unilaterally on Drakenfels, especially without support from other lords. Its blatant attempts to divide the south had long since eroded its credibility.

“Is this truly the consensus of all present?”

Rozier glared at the southern nobles, his tone cold and menacing, as if granting them one last chance to reconsider.

But the nobles scoffed and shouted in unison:

“It is! This is the will of us all!”

“No one here thinks otherwise!”

Their defiant attitudes made Rozier clench his fists in anger. His face flushed as he turned to Sylas and bowed stiffly.

“Congratulations, Your Excellency. You’ve won again.”

“Winning? Would you call this winning after taking one blow and dealing three in return?” Sylas quipped.

“How greedy can you be? What more do you want?”

“To drive a blade into their throats and twist it halfway,” Sylas replied coldly.

“…!”

Rozier stared at him in disbelief. While Sylas had often hinted at rebellion, those statements were more bluster than anything else. This, however, was different—it was a clear warning of an actual uprising in the future.

“Go tell your master,” Sylas said in a low voice, his words dripping with menace. “Keep his neck clean. I don’t want my blade getting dirty.”

Rozier’s body trembled at the veiled threat. Without another word, he turned and left, feeling for the first time that there was no turning back from this conflict.