Lord of Caldera

The nobles fell silent, many stunned to hear what they had all thought but not dared say aloud. On the other hand, the marquess, trembling with rage, clenched his fists.

That damned barbarian…

Given such a dismissive remark, Karl would have to participate fully. Accepting the offer would make him a laughingstock even if he won.

"Is that satisfactory?"

"Be quiet! Karl will participate in the duels as a candidate!"

"Very well. As you wish."

Ragnar looked away, clearly disinterested in Karl's fate.

While the marquess swallowed his fury, Ragnar turned over Sylas's final words in his mind from the day before.

Unacceptable.

He would accept Sylas as his superior. But was he truly lesser than Bjorn? What did that man possess that he didn't?

If so, I'll have to find out myself.

Sometimes, a duel conveyed more than words ever could. Ragnar intended to ask Bjorn himself through their fight. If he could paint a vision worthy of respect, then so be it. But if not…

Once all is settled, I'll personally sever his head.

Before the duels began, Ragnar made a suggestion.

"Let all northerners be free to watch this trial."

The first trial had been so sudden that only the nobles had witnessed it. By the second trial, word had spread, and some spectators had come, though it wasn't deliberately planned. This time, however, Ragnar proposed openly inviting an audience.

"Is there a reason for this?" one of the nobles asked.

"Only then will everyone accept the result," Ragnar replied.

A king recognized not only by nobles but by all northerners—that was Ragnar's own ideal goal.

Opinions among the nobles were mixed.

"It's not a bad idea. It might reduce any backlash."

"Absolutely not! What if those commoners start jeering?"

"They may also cheer, if the candidate proves worthy of kingship."

Despite some strong opposition, the general consensus leaned towards allowing the audience. For the nobles, this election was already a high-stakes decision.

The Imperial family has probably already sent an inspector. There's no time left.

We must choose a king that everyone accepts to stand against them.

If things went wrong, the king would bear all the blame, but if it went well, the North would unite. Either way, there was little to lose. Although there would be a king over them, was that so different from being under the Empire? If anything, having a king who considered northern interests would be far better.

"Let's allow the audience. We won't go out of our way to gather them, though. If people are interested, they'll come on their own."

"Indeed. Rumor has spread, so they'll gather in droves whether we invite them or not."

Some discontent murmurs came from the marquess's faction, but not enough to sway the decision. The faction's influence had diminished noticeably.

And so, the fateful day arrived.

"There are so many people."

Standing on the hill, Sylas looked down at the throngs of northerners gathered below. This was far beyond what Marquess Serge's territory alone could supply.

It seemed like everyone who could travel from nearby territories had come. Toby shrugged and replied to Sylas.

"Since the first trial, rumors have been spreading. When you returned from the second trial, there were already plenty of spectators from other territories."

"And now, with the announcement of an open third trial, the crowd has grown even more?"

"Exactly."

"Do they have somewhere to stay?"

"Most brought tents and are camping out under the open sky."

Toby pointed in the distance. Squinting, Sylas could see rows of wooden poles driven into the ground, tent stakes forming a small encampment.

The cold must be unbearable. They're certainly dedicated. Sylas thought, marveling at their enthusiasm.

"What's the general feeling about a king being chosen?" he asked.

"They're ecstatic."

"I expected some confusion."

"Not at all. They're thrilled."

According to Toby, everyone was watching eagerly, wondering who would be king, and not a single person seemed fearful at the idea of having a ruler. Rei, standing nearby, nodded in agreement.

"The North has never had a king who misruled. So, for them, this whole affair feels like a festival."

"Wait, a king has never misruled? That's news to me. Were the old northern kings really that impressive?"

Toby asked in surprise, but Rei shook his head.

"The last king vanished in the early days of the Empire. To northerners back then, a king was simply a great warrior and leader who distributed loot fairly. Governance or administration didn't exist as concepts."

"Oh… then it's true they never misruled."

Since they didn't govern at all, a king was simply admired for slaying monsters and showing heroic feats. Over time, only their reputation as great warriors remained.

But now, the role of a king has changed.

The times had shifted, and a king could no longer be just a warrior. Sylas thought of Ragnar from their conversation yesterday—a man who, in a different era, might have made a perfect king.

But unfortunately, Ragnar had been born in the wrong time. Sylas knew all too well what happened to a king with an outdated vision.

Every illusion shattered.

The romance of the North, Ragnar's dream—those glorious ideals had crumbled against the harsh reality, leading only to a loss of any true sense of honor. People who claimed there had never been any honor, growing ruthless in pursuit of their own gain. The North that Sylas admired was gradually fading.

In the end, all that remained was a society driven by greed, regardless of birth or status.

"It was the worst."

"Excuse me?"

"It's nothing."

Sylas brushed off Toby's question and looked across at Bjorn. In many ways, Bjorn couldn't compare to either Sylas or Ragnar.

But at least he was well-suited to be the king of this North.

You will be recognized.

If Ragnar despised deceit and had the wisdom to see true integrity, and if he could look at himself objectively, he would have to acknowledge Bjorn's worth—even if it was beneath his own.

"The rules are simple!"

Viscount Torben shouted to the gathered nobles.

"Each candidate will step forward and duel each of the other candidates. Injuries are inevitable, but you are not permitted to take a life, even in victory." Stay tuned to My Virtual Library Empire