Lord of Caldera - Chapter 375

Chapter 375: Chapter 375 Zichard Fear
Before Sylas’s regression, Dietrich had been a mechanical, unyielding figure—someone who saw absolute loyalty to the Imperial family as his sole purpose. And now, that very same Dietrich had betrayed the Crown Prince and smuggled the Emperor out of the capital.

“Where did the butterfly effect start?” Sylas wondered.

Whatever the case, this development spelled the end for the Crown Prince. Dietrich, once the greatest talent at Maximilian’s disposal, had turned his back. That left Maximilian with only Rozier, a diplomat ill-suited to crises that rendered diplomacy irrelevant.

In other words, the Crown Prince no longer had the strength or allies to overturn the situation. Suppressing a smirk, Sylas fell into thought.

“The Emperor… he’s certainly a trump card. But his personality is the problem.”

Sylas doubted that the Emperor would grasp the reality of the situation and cooperate willingly.

“No chance. He’s the type to whine about protecting his privileges until the bitter end.”

To Sylas, the Emperor’s mindset was deeply twisted. While he had some political sense and grasp of reality, his arrogance prevented him from considering the worst case scenario.

“He probably still thinks, ‘I’m the Emperor; nothing truly bad can happen to me.'”

Even now, with everything collapsing around him, the Emperor likely believed he would emerge unscathed.

“Toby, let’s put on a little performance together.”

“Acting? Now, of all times?”

“Yes. The Emperor has no grasp of the situation.”

At this point, the Emperor had nothing left to lose except his life. That likely meant he would act recklessly, convinced his safety was assured. Sylas had no intention of tolerating such behavior.

The fallen Emperor, Zichard, let out a sigh of relief. Having arrived at Drakenfels, he felt there was no longer any need for concern.

All he needed to do was praise Sylas as a loyal servant and denounce the Crown Prince’s illegitimacy. That would be the end of it.

“That insolent child must be weeping tears of blood.”

Serves him right. Did he truly think he could overthrow the rightful Emperor and enjoy the spoils of power? Absolutely not. Even if the Imperial dynasty ended with him, Zichard had no intention of allowing Maximilian to ascend the throne.

Those who dared defy the Emperor would pay the price.

“And Sylas Drakenfels… how ironic.”

It hadn’t been long since Zichard had exiled Sylas to Drakenfels, hoping to crush his potential. Now, he found himself seeking refuge with the very man he had tried to suppress.

Though one might expect him to feel unease about relying on a former adversary, Zichard had no such concerns.

“After all, Sylas needs my authority to claim the throne. He won’t dare treat me poorly.”

Zichard had no intention of demanding to be reinstated as Emperor. However, he expected certain privileges—ample funds for his leisure and the highest respect at official events. Daily greetings to bolster his dignity wouldn’t hurt, either.

“Of course, that much is only proper. It’s the least that should be done.”

For Zichard, even this concession felt inadequate. After all, wasn’t he relinquishing the Emperor’s throne? Shouldn’t he be allowed to retain power during his remaining days? He was an old man with little time left to live, unable to leave behind any heirs.

“Perhaps I should bring it up? The Count might be flexible enough to see reason…”

Just as he was mulling over the idea, a servant entered, interrupting his thoughts.

“Your Majesty, I am here to see you.”

“…Hmph.”

Zichard narrowed his eyes, irritation flickering across his face. To intrude without a single word of warning—it was nothing short of insolence. Were it not for his current predicament, he would have punished such disrespect.

“What is it?” he demanded, glaring at the servant with thinly veiled displeasure. His expression was a silent command to tread carefully, yet the servant remained unfazed.

“The Count requests your presence. Please, follow me.”

“What? A request?” Zichard’s face twisted in disbelief. It was called an invitation, but wasn’t it just an order to come and see him?

“Surely the Count is mistaken. I am the Emperor!”

“I am aware,” the servant replied calmly.

“You fool! If you cannot understand what I’m saying, then—”

“Your Majesty.”

As Zichard raised his voice to rebuke the servant, the man, Max, lifted his head. The piercing gaze he directed at Zichard carried a deadly chill, stopping the Emperor mid sentence.

“W-what is it?!” Zichard stammered.

“I have served the Count for many years—since his time with House Corleone. Do you think I could have misunderstood his instructions?”

“…”

“My master has summoned you, Your Majesty. Please, come with me.”

Max’s cold, murderous eyes made Zichard swallow hard. It was the first time in his life he had encountered such a palpable threat. Having spent his entire life in the palace surrounded by comfort and luxury, Zichard was utterly unprepared to endure it.

“Fine… give me a moment—”

“Now, Your Majesty.”

“I need to prepare myself! A noble lineage requires proper decorum!”

“There is no need for a bath or a change of clothes. That is the Count’s direct order.”

Though Zichard tried to project authority, Max remained impassive. The Emperor hesitated, then rose from his seat with a defeated huff.

As they exited the guest chamber and walked through the lord’s manor, Zichard began to notice something odd.

“There’s no one here.”

When he had first arrived, he had seen servants scattered throughout the corridors. But now, the entire manor was eerily quiet, as though it had been intentionally cleared. It was as if they had made arrangements to ensure no one would witness whatever might happen next.

“Surely not… It must be my imagination.”

Trying to reassure himself, Zichard followed Max until they reached Sylas’s study. The silence remained oppressive. Bowing slightly, Max gestured to the door.

“Please wait here for a moment.”

“H-huh? If you’ve brought me here, shouldn’t you announce me and—”

“It won’t take long.”

Ignoring the Emperor’s complaints, Max turned and left without another word. Zichard clenched his fists in anger as the servant’s audacity made his blood boil.

“Fine, the Count is one thing, but how dare a mere servant treat me, the Emperor, with such disrespect! How do they even manage their staff here?!”

Furious, Zichard marched toward Sylas’s study. He intended to throw the door open and reprimand the Count for the insolence shown toward him.

Just as his hand reached for the doorknob, voices from inside stopped him in his tracks.

“Master, are you really planning to keep the Emperor alive?”

“…!?”

Zichard froze where he stood, his thoughts racing.

“Did I hear that right? They’re planning to kill me?”

Confinement, he could understand. Even rendering him powerless to act might make sense. But killing him? He had never even considered the possibility.

After all, he was the Emperor—an absolute symbol of legitimacy and authority. To kill him, the rightful ruler of the Empire?

“Wait, the man called him ‘master.’ It wasn’t the Count. This must be an overzealous subordinate…”

“Well, I’m still undecided,” came Sylas’s calm reply from within. “Perhaps it would be better to eliminate him?”

Zichard held his breath, feeling a cold dread seep into his bones. He recognized the voice. It was Sylas Drakenfels—a voice he had only heard once before, a year ago, but it was unmistakable.

The conversation continued, as though unaware of Zichard’s presence.

“I think that would be for the best. Kill him,” Toby, the knight, said without hesitation.

“But he’s still the Emperor. If we kill him, won’t there be repercussions later?”

“What repercussions? Maybe in the West or the East, but here in the North and South? No one would care. People here have suffered too much under his rule.”

Toby listed the Emperor’s past misdeeds one by one: withholding food supplies, inciting civil wars, restricting trade, taxing the regions into submission—and even attempting to have Sylas killed.

“To be honest, most of the nobles in the South and North are probably just waiting for a chance to take his head,” Toby added with a scoff.

“Fair point,” Sylas mused. “Even in front of me, they barely hide their disdain for the Emperor.”

“Exactly. Killing him wouldn’t cause any real issues. Besides, no one even knows he’s here. If we dispose of the body properly, that’ll be the end of it.”

“Hnnngh…!”

Zichard clamped a trembling hand over his mouth to stifle the scream that threatened to escape. He couldn’t let them know he was there. If they discovered him now, it would all be over.

“Kill me? They’re actually planning to kill me?”

For the first time in his life, Zichard felt true fear. His legs trembled uncontrollably, and he feared he might lose control and wet himself. Until now, he had never even entertained the thought of death.

He barely managed to steady himself, but his knees felt like they might give out any moment. As he tried to regain his composure, Sylas’s voice reached his ears from within the room.