Lord of Caldera-Chapter 324 The Fall Of Glixborg Castle

It took less than an hour for Luke to defeat and capture every member of the Red Wolf Mercenaries. When he sent them to the rear, silence fell over the battlefield.

"..."

"..."

Neither side spoke. The allied forces didn't feel victorious, and Conrad's troops couldn't believe what they had witnessed.

"Now then," Luke said, clapping his hands together. The sound drew the attention of both armies.

"The duel is over."

"Yes… yes, it is," someone stammered.

"So, what are you all standing around for?"

"What?"

"Attack. The Red Wolf Mercenaries are gone now," Luke said nonchalantly.

The battlefield fell silent again before the allied troops' faces brightened with realization, while Conrad's forces turned pale.

Their final line of defense—the Red Wolf Mercenaries—was gone. All that stood between Luke and victory was a weakened gate.

"Attack!"

"Defend!"

Cheers and desperate cries echoed as the allied forces, led by Luke, surged forward.

That day, GlixborgCastle fell.

...

"Where is Conrad?! Drag out the traitor!"

Shouts and the sound of clashing weapons reverberated throughout the lord's manor as the allied army breached the final line of defense and stormed inside.

Ervin turned to Conrad, his expression filled with urgency.

"My lord, you must flee immediately."

"Flee? And where would I go?"

"There's an escape route in the manor's basement, prepared for emergencies."

"And what would I do after escaping?"

Conrad didn't even look at Ervin as he replied, his voice hollow, his face reflecting defeat.

"I've lost all my lands. The entire south is crawling with enemies. If I flee, one of those usurpers will cut my head off eventually."

"My lord, you are the rightful ruler of Drakenfels," Ervin insisted.

"Not anymore."

"This isn't flattery. Think of your lineage, my lord."

Lineage alone carried immense value, particularly when it came to asserting legitimacy over a territory. Birthright by blood was often regarded as the ultimate claim to ownership. Many who had been driven out of their lands had regained them simply by leveraging their bloodline.

"There will surely be a lord willing to support you for your lineage. Though it may be humiliating, you could gather strength under their protection and reclaim your position."

"Hah." Conrad let out a dry laugh. Indeed, such cases were common. Often, a dispossessed noble would regain their seat through a powerful benefactor—though at the cost of significant debts or obligations.

However, Conrad knew his situation was different.

"Ervin, there's something you're overlooking," Conrad said.

"What do you mean, my lord?"

"For that to happen, I would need a patron equal to or greater in power than my enemies. Tell me, who in the south fits that description?"

"…"

Ervin fell silent. He hadn't considered that angle. To secure such a benefactor required someone both powerful and ambitious. But with the south largely under the control of Sylas Drakenfels, every major figure was Conrad's competitor. Finding an ally among them was out of the question.

"What about support from the imperial family?" Ervin suggested desperately.

"Don't be absurd. Do you really think that complacent emperor would lift a finger for me? He'd rather let the south remain divided—there are still six others like me to keep balance, after all."

"Then perhaps one of the great lords from another region—"

"And who would that be? Count Herring of the western lands, who has no interest in these parts? Someone from the north, which would take over a month to reach? Or the lord of the east, the father of that Dragonslayer?"

Once again, Ervin found himself speechless. None of those options seemed remotely feasible.

Conrad sighed and picked up a sword hanging nearby.

"If I flee, the best I can hope for is to live in obscurity as a commoner. I'd rather stand and die here with dignity."

As Conrad drew his sword, determined to make his last stand, the sound of heavy footsteps echoed outside the room. Moments later, the door burst open with a deafening crash.

"Come at me, you brats! I am Conrad—"

Slice.

Conrad's voice cut off abruptly. Something felt wrong. No sound escaped his throat, and his vision began to tilt unnaturally. It wasn't until a moment later that he realized what had happened. His head—and Ervin's—were both lying on the floor.

"He cut us both in a single strike?!"

The shock was overwhelming. Had he attacked from a distance? Was that even possible? As Conrad's consciousness faded, he heard a distant voice.

"Good! The traitor Conrad is dead!"

"Magnificent, Your Excellency! Long live the count!"

"Hang his head on the castle walls! The war is over!"

The voice, though commanding, carried an undertone of impatience, as if the speaker simply wanted to get things over with. Conrad, in his final moments, understood why his opponent hadn't bothered with words.

"You… bastard…"

He couldn't even complete his curse before the darkness consumed him.

The war was over. Conrad's and Ervin's severed heads were displayed on the fortress walls, and the remaining knights surrendered quickly, recognizing the futility of further resistance.

With their lord dead, there was no one left to serve. Sylas claimed the manor as his own, standing tall as he declared,

"At last, the traitor has been defeated, and I have reclaimed my rightful lands!"

"Congratulations, Your Excellency!"

"All of this is thanks to your leadership!"

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"Haha, you flatter me. I couldn't have done it alone," Sylas said with a modest chuckle.

The nobles froze momentarily. While such remarks were common platitudes, something about Sylas's tone made them uneasy. It wasn't hard to imagine that he could have won the war alone, given the terrifying strength of his knights.

"Now," Sylas continued, "I'd love to hold a celebration, but there's still one major task left."

"And that would be…?" one noble asked hesitantly.

Sylas smiled at the puzzled expressions around him.

"The distribution of rewards."

"…!"

The nobles' eyes lit up. Dividing the spoils of war, particularly the conquered lands, was the moment everyone had been waiting for.

But the excitement was tinged with unease.

"Will we actually receive any land?"

"Let's be honest—we didn't contribute much."

"His Excellency accomplished everything; we hardly did anything."

The nobles couldn't ignore the reality that Sylas and his knights had carried the war effort entirely. Sylas had promised to divide the lands, but if he went back on his word now, none of them would dare challenge him.