Lord of Caldera - Chapter 374

Chapter 374: Chapter 374 The Emperor Escape Confinement
Thus, no one dared to block Dietrich’s path, even when his explanations seemed questionable or suspicious.

“Well, he’s a Royal Guard. He must have a reason we don’t know about.”

“The Crown Prince must have assigned him a covert mission.”

The Royal Guards, known for living and dying by their honor, were unimaginable liars. Even with an old and suspicious man riding behind one of them, the same faith persisted.

“Sir, who is the man on your horse?” asked a gate guard.

“My servant,” Dietrich replied calmly. “He has served me faithfully his entire life, but now, given his age, his strength seems to be failing him.”

The old man coughed incessantly, a rattling sound in his chest hinting that even speaking was a struggle. The guard eyed the bowed figure briefly, puzzled.

“Do you mean to take a servant along on your patrol? Well, it’s your choice, though I hope he doesn’t become a burden…”

“I am not taking him on patrol. I’m merely escorting him to my son’s home on the outskirts of the capital while I make my rounds. His health has deteriorated recently.”

“Ah, I see.”

A servant, after all, was just a commoner. Summoning a carriage or hiring someone to escort him like a noble would be preposterous. But to leave him with just a pony would likely be pointless, as the man might not even know how to ride. The only feasible solution seemed to be carrying him directly.

“Truly, a knight among knights—the Royal Guard! Even for a mere servant who has served him for a lifetime, he cares this much,” thought the guard, impressed.

Nobles often considered it excessive to even let commoners ride horses. Yet Dietrich not only let the old man sit atop his cherished steed but also allowed him to hold on for support. The guard marveled at his generosity.

“Remarkable, sir! You are truly an honorable Royal Guard!”

“Enough flattery. Open the gate.”

“Yes, sir!”

As the palace gate swung open, Dietrich rode away at a steady pace. Once they had distanced themselves from the palace, a furious voice erupted from behind him.

“An honorable Royal Guard, you say? That wretch ought to be torn apart! The Emperor, chased out by his own guards—what an outrage!”

“Keep your voice down,” Dietrich warned.

“Do you mean to say I cannot even complain about this humiliation?!”

“Complain if you wish. But with a few words of protest, you might find yourself dragged back and imprisoned for life.”

“…”

The Emperor, Zichard, clamped his mouth shut. The thought of spending another half-year in helpless captivity was unbearable.

Worse still was the shift in the attitudes of the palace servants.

“Those who once trembled before me now treat me like a bothersome relic…”

In the initial months, the servants had still feared him, for he was the Emperor and could potentially return to the throne. But as time passed, their fear waned. By the third month, they grew increasingly indifferent, even begrudging the effort it took to assist him.

“The servants were insolent, but the courtiers were worse! Not one of them dared to rebel against the Crown Prince on my behalf!”

The palace had remained eerily calm after his confinement. No one questioned the legitimacy of the Crown Prince’s actions, let alone opposed him.

Zichard seethed at the courtiers’ betrayal, though he had long since forgotten his own misdeeds that had led to this outcome.

“We must move quickly,” Dietrich interrupted his thoughts. “It won’t take long for the Crown Prince to notice something is amiss. If we’re lucky, we might gain two days.”

“Do not call him the Crown Prince! That wretch is no longer my son. He is a traitor and should be addressed as such!”

“Even now, are you more concerned with titles than escape? Would you rather focus on formalities than plan how to avoid recapture?”

“…”

Zichard fell silent under Dietrich’s contemptuous gaze. In truth, Dietrich was the only person he could rely on now.

Turning his head away, Zichard muttered a reluctant, “Fine.”

Dietrich sighed. Though his loyalty to the Emperor had once been unshakable, his disillusionment had grown over time. The man he had once served seemed petty and pitiful now.

“This man cannot be allowed to reclaim the throne,” Dietrich resolved.

The Emperor’s duty was clear: to end the meaningless era of the old regime and pass the torch to someone capable of ushering in a new age. For Dietrich, ensuring this transition was the only honor he had left.

With this in mind, Dietrich spurred his horse onward. Time was short, and he had to reach the southern territories—the land of the next Emperor, Sylas Drakenfels—before the Crown Prince discovered their escape.

The armrest of the chair trembled as Maximilian slammed his hand down with a loud bang. His palm turned red, but he didn’t feel the pain. The situation at hand was enough to turn his thoughts blank.

“His Majesty! My father! Of all people—argh!”

Maximilian clutched his head and tugged at his hair in frustration. The Emperor, though stripped of power, was an essential figure for maintaining legitimacy. And now that Emperor had left the capital. What would follow was as clear as day.

“Knowing Father, he’s most likely gone to that traitorous dragonslayer. Then he’ll start spreading accusations that I’m the traitor! If that happens, I’m finished…”

A shiver ran down Maximilian’s entire body. His tenuous grasp on legitimacy was the only thing keeping him afloat. Losing even that would spell the end of everything.

“Send a pursuit team immediately! No, deploy all forces except for the minimum defense units as pursuers! We have no time to waste!”

“Yes, Your Highness!”

A pursuit team was hastily assembled and dispatched, but Dietrich eluded them. He had taken great care to avoid main roads and villages.

Under normal circumstances, they might have expected the Emperor to stop at an inn for the sake of his health. But Dietrich offered no such courtesies. Though the Emperor grumbled incessantly about his first experience with camping outdoors, they successfully evaded the pursuit and entered Drakenfels.

“…The Emperor escaped confinement with the help of a Royal Guard and came to us? Are you joking?”

“No, my lord. I confirmed it myself—he’s the same Emperor we saw at the banquet,” Toby replied.

“Give me a moment to think.”

Sylas closed his eyes and took a deep breath. The Emperor was no fool; he surely knew that Sylas was a legitimate rebel. The only reason the Emperor would come to him was clear: he intended to denounce Crown Prince Maximilian as a traitor and throw his support behind Sylas.

“This is madness,” Sylas thought, shaking his head.

From a purely strategic perspective, it was a stroke of luck. But the Emperor’s selfishness, fueled by a desire for revenge at the expense of the Imperial family’s dignity, was appalling even to Sylas.

Moreover, the Emperor’s lack of shame posed a potential risk. Even if he supported Sylas, his behavior could cause problems.

“What should we do? Should we prepare a grand welcome?” Toby asked.

“No. Bring him in quietly. Who’s the Royal Guard escorting him?”

“Dietrich Lichtenhoffen. You know, the one you dealt with during your days as a squire.”

“…Seriously?”

“His striking face is unforgettable.”