Lord of Caldera - Chapter 370

Chapter 370: Chapter 370 The Crown Prince Is A Usurper
“What reason could they have for backing her?”

“The Elven Principality has issued a statement as well, Your Highness,” the courtier explained cautiously.

“A statement? Supporting their son-in-law’s rebellion, no doubt! But why would those pointy-eared fools meddle in Imperial politics?”

“It isn’t a political statement, Your Highness. It’s about trade.”

“Trade?”

“Yes. The Elves have declared that they will conduct business exclusively with the Hernig family in the West. Any other family attempting to take control of the trade routes will see all commerce severed immediately.”

Hearing this, Maximilian felt the world spin around him.

Trade is never an act of unilateral generosity; it arises out of mutual need. The western trade with the Elven Principality was no exception, with the initial proposal having come from the Elves themselves. Disrupting this trade would harm them as well.

“Yet, if they’re still willing to cut off trade, there’s only one explanation,” Maximilian thought grimly, his hand pressed against his throbbing temple.

The Elven Grand Duke had staked the Principality’s future on the dragonslayer, Sylas. Maximilian couldn’t comprehend such reckless behavior. Supporting Sylas’s rebellion was one thing—the rewards would be immense if he succeeded. But common sense dictated that there should be safeguards in place in case of failure.

Even if Sylas lost, the Principality should have left room for reconciliation with the Empire. The Grand Duke’s decision left no such avenue, ensuring that if Maximilian triumphed, the relationship between the two nations would be irreparably severed.

“Is it because elves are so few in number? Is his daughter truly that precious to him?”

Maximilian could think of no other reason. To him, there was no rational explanation for why the Elves would gamble their nation’s future on Sylas.

In truth, the Grand Duke’s motivations were far greater, tied to the survival of the Elven race itself—something Maximilian, as a human, could never fully grasp.

“Your Highness, what should we do next?” asked one of the court nobles cautiously.

Maximilian remained silent, his thoughts racing. The Empire was surrounded by enemies on all sides: Bjorn in the North, Ray Hernning in the West, Leonard Corleone in the East, and Sylas’s rebellion in the South.

Some nobles still pledged loyalty to the Crown, bound by old traditions. But their influence was minimal, and Maximilian doubted they could tip the scales in his favor.

“Even if provincial nobles declare their support for me, they’ll be swept away the moment battle lines are drawn. At best, they’ll declare neutrality.”

Sylas, too, was unlikely to antagonize neutral nobles unnecessarily. Such declarations would only increase the number of his enemies. For Maximilian, those neutrals could serve as potential daggers against Sylas when the time came.

“Your Highness…”

“Do not panic!” Maximilian barked, cutting through the murmurs of unease among his courtiers.

“He may seem powerful now, but that is a mere illusion. Many nobles still remain loyal to the Crown! They simply lack the courage to show their resolve in the face of immediate threats.”

Implying that deserters might be forgiven later, Maximilian rose to his feet.

“Do you not know this land, even as you live in the heart of the Empire? Chronoa is a fortress that not even a million soldiers can breach! It has walls that have withstood centuries, and farmlands capable of sustaining it for over a hundred years!”

His voice rang with confidence, his demeanor that of a general certain of victory. A faint smile played on his lips.

“They will never breach this capital! And time is on the side of the Empire! Alliances forged without true purpose will inevitably crumble, and their disintegration has already begun!”

Though his words blended truth with lies, Maximilian understood that morale was crucial. Even if Sylas’s allies believed in their cause, prolonged stagnation would erode their resolve.

“Believe in the Empire’s victory and be patient! The Goddess is with us—there is nothing to fear!”

“Ooooh!”

Inspired by Maximilian’s confidence, the court nobles rallied, their faces alight with renewed hope. Maximilian watched them with satisfaction.

“They’ll last five years at most. If they stretch their resources thin, perhaps seven.”

The cost of war was staggering, no matter how much wealth one amassed. Chronoa’s strategy would be simple: lock its gates and wait. Sylas’s forces, unable to breach the capital, would drain themselves in a war of attrition. Maximilian smiled at the thought, unaware of Sylas’s plans.

“Count, give us the order!”

“Let us summon knights and soldiers immediately!”

Southern nobles, brimming with enthusiasm, gathered before Sylas. Even if they weren’t genuinely committed, they had to appear as such—it was a chance to leave a favorable impression for when Sylas ascended the throne.

Sylas, however, dismissed them with a wave of his hand.

“That won’t be necessary.”

“Pardon?”

“There’s no need to muster troops. Just continue managing your domains as usual.”

“But, my lord, we must raise an army to fight the Crown Prince…”

“Of course, we’ll fight. But only when they attack first.”

Sylas smirked. He understood Maximilian’s intentions perfectly. In fact, there was only one strategy the Crown Prince could employ.

“They’ll hunker down behind that impenetrable wall and wait for me to come to them. It’s the most logical move when you lack the strength for an offensive.”

Mass mobilization would require Sylas’s forces to traverse multiple territories, inevitably causing disruptions. Troop movements always brought problems: minor pillaging, disputes, and the costs of provisioning.

“They’ll wait in the capital, letting me exhaust myself on the march. They’ll use any grievances I cause along the way to turn neutral nobles against me, positioning them as future allies.”

And when Sylas’s forces failed to breach the walls after years of struggle, dissatisfaction among his allies would fester, creating the perfect conditions for Maximilian to strike back.

It was a sound strategy—assuming Sylas intended to march on Chronoa.

“He’s rushed this because he thinks I can’t be given time to grow stronger. Unfortunately for him, I can keep stalling indefinitely.”

If the Imperial forces were strong and willing to go on the offensive, Sylas might have had to rally his troops for a defensive campaign.

But Maximilian had neither the strength nor the inclination for such a move. Facing such a static opponent, Sylas’s plan was refreshingly simple.