Lord of Caldera

Chapter 203

The marquis slammed his hand on the desk, glaring at Karl. If his plan had any credibility, he might have listened, but what Karl was proposing seemed like the ravings of a madman.

"I'll pretend I never heard this. Leave."

"Please, reconsider. We must take drastic measures now," Karl insisted.

"Are you deaf? I said, leave!"

At his father's unyielding command, Karl bit his lip.

"...Just think it over, Father. This is the only option we have."

Receiving no response, Karl turned and exited the study, his face twisted with frustration as he looked out toward the dueling grounds. The memories he wanted to forget played vividly in his mind.

"Don't underestimate me," he had boasted, "this sword has even slain lesser dragons..."

Thud.

"Kek!"

"Damn it."

His face flushed with shame at the thought. He wished he could bury his head in a hole. But worse than the humiliation of his defeat was what followed.

"Hmm, as expected of the Chieftain. It seems only Sir Sylas could match him."

"Thankfully, Sir Sylas still has an edge over the Chieftain." Your next chapter is on My Virtual Library Empire

"Has Lord Bjorn not given up yet? Admirable spirit, but..."

Had they laughed at his defeat, it might have been easier to endure. Instead, the nobles treated him as though he didn't even exist. The indifference they showed him was more unsettling than scorn.

'Our family will be the first branch to be pruned if a king rises in the North. And if my authority as heir to the marquisate continues to decline...'

He feared it wouldn't just be pruning; they might cut the family down to its roots, leaving him as a figurehead, a marquis in name only. It was a dreadful prospect. After all the effort he'd invested to be adopted into the marquisate, was he destined to suffer while others enjoyed the spoils?

"What?!"

The nobles' eyes widened. A dragon? How was it possible for a dragon to be near when so many candidates had hunted them down?

"Stay calm and tell us precisely what's happened. What kind of dragon is it, and where is it?" Viscount Thorburn asked, maintaining his composure. While surprised, he wasn't frightened. After all, the hall was filled with dragon-slaying candidates. One dragon was hardly a cause for concern.

But the knight's face remained ashen as he shouted, "It's not just one dragon!"

"What?"

"There are multiple! At least four dragons have been spotted!"

"...!"

The blood drained from the nobles' faces as they took in the news.

---

All the northern nobles rushed to the top of the fortress walls, needing to see the situation with their own eyes to believe it. As they peered over the edge, a collective gasp filled the air.

"What in the...!"

Someone muttered in shock, swearing loudly—a breach of noble decorum, but no one thought to chastise them. It was understandable, as a horde of dragons was glaring at them from the horizon.

"What kind of madness is this place?" one of them cried. "The candidates have already slain five dragons, and yet here we have four more!"

Dragons were creatures most people might never see in their lifetime, and yet, despite the recent hunting of five, four new dragons had emerged. Granted, one of those "dragons" was a lesser drake slain by Karl, barely worthy of the name.

"Unbelievable. Four dragons..." someone murmured.

By now, both Ragnar and Loghain had arrived on the walls, staring grimly at the creatures in the distance. Viscount Thorburn cast an incredulous look at the two.

"Is it truly so hellish beyond the snowfields? You've survived well."

"I'd love to confirm that, but this is beyond even our experience," Ragnar replied with a grimace. Despite their resilience, the people of the snowy lands didn't live where dragons appeared with such frequency.

Though the strength of the candidates had dimmed the perception, dragons were typically regarded as half-natural disasters. When even one dragon appeared, a small tribe could be obliterated.