Lord of Caldera - Chapter 372

Chapter 372: Chapter 372 A War of Attrition
When the war first began, Maximilian was patient, calmly waiting for the right moment. He had unwavering confidence that time was on his side. But that confidence had since crumbled. With each passing day, his anxiety grew, and his nails, which he had bitten down relentlessly, were now nonexistent.

“Damn it, damn it, damn it! What should I do now?” he muttered to himself.

Maximilian never even considered the possibility of the rebels not attacking. After all, rebellions traditionally only ended when the capital was seized, the emperor dethroned, and the imperial family replaced. Most importantly, the leader of any rebellion usually harbored ambitions of becoming an absolute ruler. Such a thirst for power inevitably drove them to act aggressively.

Yet Sylas, the rebel leader, seemed to mock that expectation, remaining completely motionless. He didn’t even seem to bother persuading the lords to join his cause. Instead, his attitude conveyed a sense of dismissive confidence:

“If you want to side with me, do so. If not, then don’t. Of course, if I win later, you’ll have to face the consequences yourselves.”

The lords, faced with Sylas’s overwhelming self-assurance, dared not defy him. After all, Sylas had a history—a record of annihilating the remnants of the Drakenfels in the southern regions. If someone like Sylas ascended to the imperial throne, those who opposed him would undoubtedly face harsh retribution.

Compared to the freely moving Sylas, the crown prince was effectively trapped in the capital. Naturally, the pro-imperial nobles began to shrink back.

“No one is certain who the real traitor is, so I’ll remain neutral,” some said.

“I trust His Majesty the Emperor, but trusting only the Crown Prince’s words is… questionable,” others murmured.

“It’s excessive to accuse someone of treason when they haven’t even raised an army,” they argued.

The pro-imperial lords, eager to maintain their reputation as loyal subjects while subtly withdrawing, came up with every excuse imaginable. Maximilian was furious, but he was powerless. He had no means to punish them or strengthen his position.

To make matters worse, even the non-rebellious lords had stopped paying taxes.

“This is no longer just about suppressing a rebellion. Even if we defeat Sylas, the empire will still fracture at this rate,” Maximilian lamented.

From the very beginning, the lords had essentially been kings of their own territories. Particularly the margraves, whose power was so immense that even the imperial family struggled to intervene. The imperial family’s authority over them had only been maintained through the inherent strength of the imperial throne and the weight of a thousand years of tradition.

But if the connection to the imperial family was severed for too long, those traditions would crumble.

“Without the imperial family’s recognition, these lords could seek independence. In the worst-case scenario, they might split into individual nations… Damn it!” Maximilian’s face grew pale as cold sweat trickled down his neck.

Before the empire’s foundation, this continent had witnessed the rise and fall of countless nations. At times, there were ten countries in a single era; at others, there were over thirty. Recalling those horrific chapters of history, Maximilian instinctively shut his eyes tightly.

The lords were monarchs in their own right, often refusing to heed even the Emperor’s commands. The thought of thirty such rulers declaring themselves equals and vying for power was unbearable.

“If I do nothing, it will all be over,” he thought grimly.

While leaving the capital to engage in battle wasn’t an option, he couldn’t afford to sit idly by either. At the very least, he needed to disrupt Sylas’s efforts. The longer this bizarre stalemate dragged on, the more Sylas’s Drakenfels forces would grow.

“Summon the captain of the Royal Guard immediately—” Maximilian began, only to stop mid-sentence. He suddenly remembered that Jurgen Hendrickson, the former captain of the Royal Guard, had recently stepped down. The man had been deeply shaken by the Emperor’s confinement and the emergence of the Crown Prince’s faction within the knights.

Biting his lip, Maximilian corrected himself. “Bring me Dietrich from the Royal Guard!”

Dietrich, a rising star who had joined the Royal Guard just before the Emperor’s confinement, was said to have unmatched talent—perfect for a future captain. A knight of his caliber would be ideal for handling this critical task.

“Do you truly believe that?” Dietrich asked, his voice strained. “Do you truly believe this is an honorable mission and that no one will accuse you afterward?”

Maximilian’s face contorted with frustration as he shouted, “What exactly do you expect from war, then?!”

No matter how much he tried to persuade the knight, Dietrich refused to listen. The Crown Prince’s patience had reached its limit.

“Do you want a war where only soldiers, knights, and commanders die? A war where armies camp in villages without taking anything, where they’re universally respected, and where not a single villager’s home burns? Or perhaps a war resolved with a simple one-on-one duel, where the loser gracefully surrenders?”

“…”

“There’s no such war!” Maximilian roared. “If we can crush the enemy with minimal sacrifice, then we must be willing to pay that price—no matter who it involves!”

The statement was deliberately ambiguous, implying both the sacrifice of innocents and the tarnishing of the Royal Guard’s honor.

Dietrich, his face now devoid of emotion, lowered his head. Maximilian had made it painfully clear that he had no intention of retracting his orders.

“…Understood. I will follow your command,” Dietrich replied flatly.

“Good. Go now. Your sacrifice will be rewarded,” Maximilian declared with finality.

Dietrich turned without a word and left. Watching his retreating figure, Maximilian felt a surge of anger but suppressed it with effort.

“Damn it all. Does he think I want to give such orders? I have no other choice—I don’t have a single reliable force to deploy beyond these walls!”

Everyone knew the imperial family was cornered. If Maximilian recklessly sent soldiers beyond the capital’s walls, they might very well defect to the rebels instead.

Thus, he needed loyal and capable individuals, and as far as he knew, only the Royal Guard fit that description.