Lord of Caldera - Chapter 348

Chapter 348: Chapter 348 Strange Forest
“Toby is right, my lord,” Ray added. “I think we need to offer the nobles something to reassure them.”

What they needed was certainty—a conviction that Sylas’s rule would surpass the imperial court’s in every way. If they could be convinced of this, doubts and hesitation would naturally fade.

“I was already planning on it,” Sylas said with a grin. “Bring me a map.”

“A map?”

“Yes, look here,” Sylas said, pointing to a specific location.

The Gritz Forest—a remote area on the edge of the Glixbor estate. Its timber was of poor quality, and the land had little value, so it had been excluded during the distribution of territories.

“Search every corner of this place. Take a sizable force with you; it shouldn’t be hard to find.”

“Find? Find what, my lord?” Toby asked, puzzled.

Sylas’s grin widened as he replied, “A treasure that only I can distribute.”

“Did he really say that?”

“Y-yes, Your Highness,” Rozier stammered.

Crown Prince Maximilian’s face twisted with anger.

“Wash his neck and wait? He dares speak such filth to the next emperor?”

“That wretched traitor… He’s not even bothering to hide his rebellion anymore.”

“Perhaps we should inform His Majesty—” Rozier began hesitantly.

“Forget it,” Maximilian interrupted, shaking his head.

“That man only cares about his own peace. Whether my head rolls or the empire collapses, it’s of no concern to him. What’s the point of telling him?”

Frustration dripped from Maximilian’s voice. Even the most insignificant rural noble cared more about their family’s legacy and honor than their own life. Yet the current emperor, Zikardt, valued only himself. Family, bloodline, even his own child—he treated them all as strangers.

In that respect, Zikardt was worse than any country noble.

“He wouldn’t believe me anyway, not without evidence,” Maximilian continued bitterly. “And even if he did, he’d probably be pleased. My authority diminishes, and his increases—what’s not to like?”

“Surely His Majesty wouldn’t— Your Highness is the heir, after all,” Rozier said, his voice faltering.

“How naive. You still don’t understand him,” Maximilian scoffed.

He had once thought the same. Surely, even his father couldn’t be that callous. Surely, as a human, he had some baseline of decency. Those assumptions had proven idiotic.

“Baseline of decency? The man has no bottom.”

Expecting anything from the emperor as a person was a waste of time. And when it came to matters outside of his immediate self-interest, it was even worse. Maximilian, being treated as half a rival, wasn’t even considered family. Telling the truth to his father would only confirm his worst fears.

“And here I thought that wretch of a Dragon Slayer was shrewder. To expose his intentions so blatantly… Does youthful recklessness get the better of everyone eventually?”

“Perhaps his confidence has grown, having succeeded in so many ventures,” Rozier suggested.

“Confidence? The man’s a fool,” Maximilian sneered. “He’s already lost more than half of Drakenfels, yet he struts around like a victor. What arrogance.”

For a noble, their lands were everything—tax revenue, defensive fortifications, manpower, and food production all stemmed from their estates. Gaining more territory was akin to exponentially increasing one’s power. Conversely, losing land was a devastating blow.

“If he’d unified all of Drakenfels, I might understand, but boasting like this after losing so much? Ridiculous.”

“Your Highness, the Dragon Slayer’s strength doesn’t come solely from his lands. He has solid alliances,” Rozier pointed out.

Maximilian laughed.

“So what if he has allies? Let him bring a million troops! The capital will never fall.”

The imperial capital, Chronoa, was a fortress like no other. Its walls were reinforced by ancient magic, and its gates were layered with long-forgotten enchantments. Even legendary weapons unearthed from dungeons could barely scratch its defenses.

Beyond its impenetrable structure, the city could sustain itself for decades with its self-sufficient systems.

“There’s no need to fight. Just barricade ourselves inside and wait for them to exhaust themselves. Does that fool even understand why rebellions against the empire have never succeeded?”

Chronoa’s towering walls made siege warfare a futile endeavor. Simply closing the gates rendered traditional warfare irrelevant, allowing life to continue undisturbed within.

Given enough time, any rebellion would crumble under the weight of its own costs—maintaining vast armies, dealing with internal dissent, and the ambitions of hidden rivals.

For a rebellion to succeed, more than half the empire’s nobles would need to align with it.

“A laughable notion. Unless some mad emperor ascends and executes half the capital’s residents in a fit of lunacy, it’s impossible.”

Moreover, even if Sylas became emperor, the empire wouldn’t change drastically. Ironically, Sylas had already solved many of the empire’s internal problems himself, leaving little room to win over more nobles. It was a paradoxical situation.

“Let that simple-minded swordsman bark all he wants. I’m looking forward to the day his precious blade shatters against these walls.”

For now, patience was key. Time would bring opportunities for revenge. Or so Maximilian thought—until his complacency was shattered within a month.

“I don’t understand what we’re supposed to find here.”

Toby grumbled as he trudged through the Gritz Forest. Following Sylas’s orders, he had brought a large contingent of soldiers, but he hadn’t been given clear instructions.

“Search for anything unusual. Especially things that look out of place,” Sylas had said.

It wasn’t that Sylas was withholding information. He didn’t know the specifics either. He was simply certain that something lay hidden in the forest.

That left Toby feeling like he was grasping at straws. At the very least, it would have been nice to know what they were looking for.

“This forest is strange,” Toby muttered. He had seen many forests in his travels, but none as eerie as this one. The twisted branches and blood-red leaves gave it an almost supernatural quality.

“It looks like something out of a ghost story. Kids would cry if they saw this place.”

“These are Blackburn trees,” explained a local guide. “They’re useless for lumber or firewood.”

“What? Not even firewood?” Toby asked, astonished.

“They produce thick black smoke when burned. It’s suffocating,” the guide replied.