Kingdom’s Bloodline
chapter-609

‘Oh, for fuck’s sake! ’

That was the first thing that went through Thales’ mind as he found himself half-buried in the frigid, unforgiving stone floor, his cheek gritty with dust and his body throbbing with pain.

From the Prince’s dramatic entrance, his sword threateningly at his throat, to his own foolish mistake that led to his capture, the whole situation had turned on its head in a heartbeat, leaving everyone in the Ballard Room in shock, too stunned to react.

In the midst of it all, Marigo tightened his grip on Thales’ twisted arm, took a deep breath, and, his face beaming with excitement, reported to King Kessel, “Your Majesty, the intruder has been caught!”

But King Kessel didn’t reply right away.

Instead, he just stared down at Thales on the ground.

His expression, as sombre and inscrutable as the sea, gave nothing away about what was going through his mind.

The royal guards, all set to charge forward, were stopped in their tracks by Captain Adrian. He furrowed his brow and held up his hand, keeping them at a safe distance.

A collective sigh of relief swept through the room.

“Is it over?” Solder asked, staring with wide eyes at the Prince, who was now securely held and unable to move.

Gilbert said nothing; his face filled with defeat, and his eyes reddened.

Prime Minister Cullen remained quiet as well, deep in thought with his head down.

“Oh my, thank the heavens, thank Sunset, I knew...” Master Kirkirk, still shaken, managed to pull Solder’s hand away from his mouth. It was clear he had been quite frightened.

The once tumultuous and chaotic atmosphere in the Ballard Room began to ease, no longer as stifling.

But Marigo keenly noticed that his superior, Captain Adrian, standing by King Kessel’s side, wore a grave expression and shook his head at Marigo.

The King’s voice cut through the room, bringing another bout of silence.

“Well, it seems,” Kessel stared at Thales, the captured intruder, his expression pensive, “that if you were aiming to end your own life, it’s not going to be that easy.”

“Child.”

Emotions ran high through the gathered onlookers; all eyes focused on the young captive on the floor.

“Cut the crap.”

Thales struggled against Marigo’s grip, fighting to draw a breath amidst the dust and the hard floor, and through gritted teeth, he retorted, “Quit wasting our damn time.”

Marigo, who had him pinned, reacted with a scornful snort.

As it became evident that even in defeat, the Duke of Star Lake remained defiant and untamed, murmurs began to ripple through the Ballard Room.1

King Kessel narrowed his eyes, his gaze practically tearing into Thales.

Witnessing the entire ordeal, Gilbert let out a long sigh and slowly stood up by the council table.

“Your Majesty, as you said,” he conceded.

The Foreign Affairs Minister, clearly bewildered, didn’t spare a glance at the prone Thales. “Prince

Thales is indeed fatigued and in need of... rest.”

On the other side, Kirkirk rolled his eyes around and said, “Erm, Your Majesty, maybe we should call it a day for this meeting...”

“If necessary, Your Majesty,” Vicar General Stylia Nydis sighed, “the Sunset Church can oversee a confession for the lost Prince, a path to self-redemption...”

“No,” Viscount Kenney furrowed his brow and addressed his colleagues, “Gentlemen, today’s matters concern the stability of our Kingdom. Please, let’s keep this among ourselves...”

The ministers started talking fervently among themselves, and the meeting room regained its liveliness.

“QuietP

At that precise moment, Prime Minister Cullen suddenly raised his voice.

The entire Ballard Room fell into silence.

“Since it pertains to royal family matters,” the Duke of Eastern Sea, in a rare display of certainty, turned to the King and said, “Your Majesty shall have the final say.”3

As a result, all eyes converged once more at the head of the long table.

However, King Kessel didn’t react.

Half of his body was obscured in the shadow of the throne, with only his head and chest bathed in the flickering firelight, casting his eyes into an eerie dance of light and darkness.

The King’s silence seemed to possess a peculiar enchantment, gradually spreading through the entire meeting room. From ministers to guards, everyone fell into an involuntary hush, not daring to so much as exhale.

Except for one person.

“Please, Father!”

Even in the wake of his failed rebellion, Thales’s laughter was unapologetic, and it cut through the tense atmosphere of the Ballard Room.

“Faced with a crisis, will you choose to be a foolish idiot or a coward who ended up taking his own life?”

King Kessel’s gaze grew keener.

Vanguard Marigo’s expression turned icy, and he put force on his knee, drowning out Thales’ words with a hiss of pain.

And then, at that very moment...

“Marigo.”

King Kessel’s voice sounded faint but firm.

“Let him go.”

In that split second, everyone was left in stunned silence.

“Yes—” Marigo started with excitement, then his expression turned to disbelief as he looked up.

“Your Majesty?”

“What, what... did Your Majesty say?” He wasn’t alone in voicing this question. Prime Minister Cullen wore a thoughtful expression; hope gleamed in Gilbert’s eyes, while others held onto their doubts and apprehensions.

Only one person wasn’t taken by surprise,

On the ground, out of sight, Thales bore the pain and curled his lips into a smirk.

“I said...” King Kessel began with a cold snort, his voice not raised but commanding attention nonetheless. “The Jadestars have made a commitment.”

The Iron Hand King fixed his gaze intently on his rebellious son.

“As you wish, child.”

“Let’s talk.”

As the King’s words settled in, the Ballard Room fell into a momentary hush, and many exchanged perplexed glances.

Marigo inhaled deeply and hauled Thales up from the floor, dumping him unceremoniously onto the table with a forceful impact that drew pained groans from Thales.

“Your Majesty, Prince Thales was planning a rebellion. Once he’s set free, who knows what he might do to...” Marigo’s concerns echoed those of others, and the courtiers’ voices filled the room with a flurry of arguments.

“Just the two of you?” Adviser Solder glanced at the confiscated Load-Bearer, now in the hands of the royal guards. “Your Majesty, maybe we should have Adrian here just in case...”

“Um, if we do need to interrogate him, can we get a cell, you know, one of those with bars...?” Master Kirkirk suggested it hesitantly, clearly still on edge.4

“What about the Secret Department? Let them handle it...”

“No, we can’t let a word slip about today’s events...”

With a heavy thump!

King Kessel’s planted his fist hard on the table.

The teacups on the table clattered, startling everyone.

The courtiers and guards quickly came to their senses, falling into silence, heads bowed in nervous anticipation of the King’s next move.

The room plunged into oppressive quietness.5

However, the Iron Hand King didn’t utter a word.

He simply kept his characteristic stoicism, composed and unflinching, as though he were a patient hunter awaiting its prey.

Ten seconds passed in silence.

During this time, everyone kept their heads down, afraid to even breathe.

Thales was still pinned against the table, gasping for air and enduring the heavy silence.

Finally, Lord Adrian, who stood closest to the King, sighed and took a step forward. “His Majesty has reached a decision.”

“Royal Guards, all of you, leave the room immediately!” The guards, who had been on high alert, exchanged uncertain glances upon hearing this order.

“Captain!” Marigo urgently looked up. “We can’t take such a risk...”

“The Emperor’s Praetorian Guards!” Lord Adrian, the captain of the guards, changed his tone and shouted sternly, “Why you wield your swords?”

As soon as these words were spoken, all the royal guards, including Marigo, trembled.

The King remained silent, observing the scene with cold detachment.

Marigo glanced at Thales, whom he was restraining, and swallowed hard. “This sword is only to be wielded for the Emperor, only to be broken for the Emperor.

“And serves for no other purpose.”6

Lord Adrian nodded without a trace of emotion and said nothing more.

Seeing the situation unfold, the courtiers began to murmur among themselves, while the guards maintained a serious expression.

In the next moment, Thales felt the tension, pain, and weight on his arm suddenly disappear as he was released.

“On the orders of His Majesty. Prince Thales,” Marigo, the front-line officer, took a step back, keeping a vigilant yet respectful eye on the young man lying on the table. He spoke cautiously, his tone balanced between respect and wariness, “Please stand up.”

Thales groaned, pushing himself up from the table with evident pain.

‘Fuck.’

Cursing under his breath, he spat out a mouthful of blood, kicked a nearby chair aside, and sat down heavily.

As Thales freed himself, the expressions of the courtiers subtly changed, and the guards instinctively reached for their weapons. However, under the stern gaze of Lord Adrian, none dared to make any rash moves.

Marigo’s face remained stern as he bowed towards the King and the commander, then turned to organise the orderly exit of the royal guards from the room.

“My lords, dinner is ready back in the kitchen,” Lord Adrian, once again, garnered the attention of the courtiers. “Shall we?”

The captain of the guards raised his hand towards the door, his manner polite and respectful.

As if it were just an ordinary post-court meeting meal.

From Gilbert to Solder, from Kirkirk to Kenney, the ministers glanced at each other. Some looked puzzled, others concerned, but none of them moved a muscle.7

King Kessel’s gaze gradually grew colder.

“Perfect timing; I’m starving! Let’s eat!” Duke Cullen’s cheerful voice shattered the tension and awkwardness.

The Prime Minister eagerly stood up, puffing out his belly. In that moment, he transformed back into the amiable and rotund duke they knew.

“Well, even though the cuisine at the Renaissance Palace is known for its simplicity and lack of variety...”8

As he approached the door, Prime Minister Cullen paused for a moment, turned to give Thales a long look, and said, “But who knows, this meal might hold some surprises?” There was an underlying message in his words, but no one dared to respond.

King Kessel snorted in reply.

The Prime Minister chuckled, made his way through the line of guards, and disappeared through the door.

Kirkirk, who had been fidgeting, glanced around, forced a smile, shrugged, and quickly followed the Prime Minister’s lead.9

Seeing Kirkirk and Cullen set the example, and with the King standing firm, even though the other ministers were filled with doubts and concerns, they didn’t hesitate. One by one, they filed out of the room.

“Your Majesty, if you need anything, absolutely anything,” Solder said earnestly before leaving, “I’ll be in the next room, ready to respond to your call.”

King Kessel seemed to snap back to reality, giving a barely noticeable nod to his military advisor. “Don’t worry, Lord Solder,” Thales lightly tapped the armrest as he gazed wearily at King Kessel at the other end, “I will take care of him for you.”

“This is going to be an honest and heartfelt, warm and friendly talk.”

The young man narrowed his eyes.

“Between father and his son.’

King, and Prince

Jadestar, and Jadestar.

Thales let out a faint chuckle.

“Isn’t that right?”

King Kessel didn’t respond, his gaze deepening.

Solder furrowed his brow and promptly left the room.

Gilbert stood as the last minister to leave, his face a portrait of indecision. Time and again, he hesitated, unable to resist the urge to turn back.

“Your Majesty, even though you may find it hard to resolve your differences, please remember the fact that you are still father and son and that His Highness is still young...”

King Kessel’s gaze, sharp as a sword’s edge, turned and landed on the Foreign Affairs Minister.

Gilbert’s words hung in the air.

But Thales’ voice broke in again from the side.

“Thank you, Gilbert.”

Thales had his back to Gilbert, a confident smile in his voice, “But, by the standards of the Empire,

I’m already an adult.”

Gilbert was immediately taken aback.

Thales turned around, flashing a bright smile at him.

“I can wield a sword and even start a family now.”

King Kessel remained unfazed, but Gilbert’s gaze held a mix of emotions.

The Foreign Affairs Minister sighed and didn’t say anything more as he reluctantly followed his colleagues, his steps faltering.

With the departure of the dignitaries, Adrian breathed a quiet sigh of relief.

On the other side, Marigo, accompanied by the last few royal guards, kept a close eye on Thales as they slowly backed out of the Ballard Room.

“Be careful, Vanguard,” Thales suddenly cautioned, causing Marigo, who was carrying Load-Bearer, to pause.

“That sword, it’s the Karabeyan family’s treasured heirloom,” the Prince added, turning his head.

“It’s quite heavy.”

Marigo drew a deep breath. But before he could reply, Adrian’s voice resounded.

“Sure, the sword may be heavy,” the chief commander of the Royal Guards said as he stepped forward, tidying up Thales’ dishevelled attire. He didn’t hesitate to tear a piece of cloth and use it to bandage the cuts on Thales’ shoulder and neck.

“But bearing the weight for the royal family—such is our duty.”

As Thales watched Adrian tend to his injuries, his tone softened.

“Thank you, Lord Adrian. Please pass on my apologies to the guards at the palace gates...”

“They don’t need an apology,” Adrian cut him off, his tone still gentle but his eyes telling a different story.

“What’s waiting for them is a thorough review from the Flag Bearers, sentencing from the Discipline Division, and a permanent record of their lapse in duty.” Thales paused at his words.

His voice lowered.

“I... I’m sorry.”

Lord Adrian offered a faint smile, finished dressing the Prince's wounds, and gave his shoulder a reassuring pat.

“Like I said, Your Highness,” the Chief of the Royal Guards nodded with gentleness, “We’re here to bear the burden for the royal family.”

Behind them, Marigo huffed in anger, and Load-Bearer was unceremoniously propped on the ground as he turned and left.

With Adrian the last to depart, the grand doors of the Ballard Room slammed shut.

The room was now empty except for the King and the Prince, sitting on opposite sides of the council table, with the soft light of the setting sun casting a warm glow on their faces.

The Ballard Room, not exactly spacious to begin with, was usually bustling during court meetings. But now, with just the two of them, an unsettling silence pervaded the room.

“Let’s get to it.” King Kessel didn’t waste any time. His stern words echoed from the far end of the table as if they were worlds apart. “How do you intend to ‘live for Constellation’?”

Thales didn’t answer right away. Instead, he gingerly touched his reddening lip, muttered something about Marigo’s punches, patted the chair beneath him, and sighed with emotion.

Finally, he took his seat.

After all, this position had been hard-fought, not handed to him by Gilbert.

And now, his real battle was about to begin.

"Ifyou go into battle, you 'll need a full armour. ",0

With that thought in mind, Thales looked up and offered his opponent a genuine smile.

“Oh, I was starting to wonder if you didn’t quite understand...” he began.

The second Prince grabbed a teacup from the table, not caring who had used it before, and downed the remaining tea in one gulp.

“Or maybe you understood perfectly and were just pretending not to,” he continued casually. “Jadestar?” Thales asked.

At the mention of that name, King Kessel showed a subtle reaction.

Having finished his tea, Thales casually tossed the expensive teacup over his shoulder with a loud clatter as it hit the floor.

The King observed his son’s rough and unapologetic actions, his expression growing slightly frosty.

Seeing his father’s expression, Thales wiped the tea stains from his lips and chuckled.

Well, Baron Quentin would surely have something witty to say about this teacup incident.11

But... who cared?

“Say, how about you back off for a bit as well,” Thales suddenly turned his head and scanned the empty surroundings.

“Yodel?”

When Thales mentioned that name. King Kessel squinted his eyes.

But in the Ballard Room, all that prevailed was silence, with only the fire’s flickering providing any reaction.

In response, King Kessel let out a cold snort, studying his son with a thoughtful gaze.

Without receiving an answer, Thales could only scratch his forehead and chuckle at himself.

“I... thought he was here.”

King Kessel snorted harshly. He didn't mince words.

“Following our age-old traditions, when a member of the royal family errs...”

The Iron Hand King’s eyes were like blades, pinning Thales firmly to his seat.

“Their punishment will be personally carried out by the chief penal officer of the Royal Guards, from flogging to hanging.”

penal officer

personally carried out

Thales couldn’t shake the image of Mallos lashing Glover and D.D. from his mind; he chose to remain silent.

“So, this position typically favours those who play by the rules, show no partiality, and fear in the presence of the powerful,” King Kessel stated, a veiled threat lingered in his gaze

Without waiting for Thales’ response, he continued, “In light of what transpired today, Marigo, the Vice Chief Vanguard, seems like a promising choice.”

Marigo

a promising choice

Recalling the way Marigo had looked at him as he left and the pain in his jaw and abdomen, Thales couldn’t help but wince.

With a pounding headache, he replied, “Yeah, Vanguard Marigo is quite something. Kohen and Glover, working together, couldn't lay a finger on him—well, more like tripping over each other than ‘working together’, but...”

“Whatever you’re planning to say next,” King Kessel interrupted with a cold edge in his voice, “your reckless actions tonight have turned this situation into a complete mess, with the worst outcomes already unfolding. No going back.”

His piercing gaze sliced through Thales, his words sharp as a blade, “And there will be consequences for you and anyone else who was foolish enough to follow your lead.”

consequences for you and

who... follow your lead

Wya, Ralf, Kohen, Glover, D.D... Thinking about those who blindly followed him into the Renaissance Palace, the corners of Thales’ lips curled up.

It was just like six years ago, when they all followed him into the Heroic Spirit Palace, right?

The young man sighed and leaned back in his chair.

“Well, I’ll admit, now that I see it, the move was a bit rash, even reckless, and quite a gamble.”

Thales shrugged, wincing as he accidentally aggravated his injury,

“I... should I be more cautious next time, maybe?”

Unfortunately, his father stayed cold, didn’t look particularly impressed, or would grow a funny bone anytime sooner.

“It seems like you didn't learn a thing at the Secret Department.”

“Still rash, still foolish, still a laughingstock, still as pathetic," King Kessel threw out four adjectives to sure drive his point home.

Thales pressed his lips together and gave a polite nod.

rash, foolish, laughingstock, pathetic.

“Do you have any idea how much trouble you have caused with this situation at this critical moment?”

“I know.”

Thales responded promptly.

“But I also know." he collected his thoughts, facing the King squarely, “that as we’re talking, the whole Kingdom, top to bottom, has people waiting in agony—some anxiously, some in fear, and others in despair.”

Thales’ expression turned grave.

“And there are many others out there who have no idea what kind of fate awaits them.”

He locked eyes with his father.

“So, I have to be here.”

“Have to be here?”

The Iron Hand King chuckled wryly, his eyes devoid of humour.

“I may not have brought a crown, but I did bring a head.”

The King’s voice grew icy.

“So, are you here to claim it?”

The setting sun framed the window, casting King Kessel the Fifth's figure in a crimson silhouette.

Thales smiled.

not a crown

but a head

The aftermath of King Nuven’s death: the dragon-scale crown, marked with blotches of blood, flashed before his eyes.

In the next moment, the Sin of Hell’s River surged through his veins.

The Prince’s expression turned frigid, and without hesitation, he lunged at the King!

With a quick shuffle as the chair and the floor met, Thales’ expression hardened. He leaned forward, his hand reaching across the table towards King Kessel.

The Iron Hand King remained unperturbed, showing no surprise, simply watching Thales draw closer with cold detachment.

There was a muted sound, and the Ballard Room fell back into stillness.

The setting sun and the fire’s glow cast Thales in a vivid, almost blood-soaked light.

But his hand, hovering above the council table, was firmly held in place, unable to get any closer.

Only a few feet separated him from King Kessel.

The lamplight flickered, casting wavering shadows as it felt the delayed gust of wind.

“I had a feeling you would be here,”

Thales said with an impassive expression, not even sparing a glance at the mysterious figure that had suddenly appeared before him.

“Yodel.”

Yodel Cato—the Masked Protector he knew all too well—knelt on one knee atop the council table, gripping Thales’ wrist firmly and shielding the King behind him.

Yodel offered no response.

His mask was thick and rigid.

His gloves were icy to the touch.

His movements were as steady as ever.

Thales glanced at where his hand was pointing and let out a sigh.

“Too bad,” he muttered, “almost had it.”

The Masked Protector lowered his head slightly. There, on the table in front of the King, just below Thales’ fingertips, lay a crumpled letter.

The envelope bore an intricately detailed wax seal in the shape of an iris flower.

Yodel was momentarily surprised. He raised his head, and the deep hollows of his purple mask met Thales’ gaze.

“Let him go.” The King’s voice cut through the tension, cold and stern.

Thales smirked, keeping his gaze on the Masked Protector and raising an eyebrow.

“I guess he’s talking with you?”

Yodel fell into silence for a moment.

In the next second, ripples danced through the air before Thales, stirring up waves.

Yodel’s figure blurred.

Faced with this familiar scene. Thales simply stared at the mask, as if he could see through it to the other pair of eyes hidden behind it.

Soon, Thales felt his wrist loosening.

The ripples dissipated entirely.

Thales grimaced as pain throbbed in his wrist. He sighed, pushing away any lingering regrets from his mind.

Having made his decision, he couldn’t afford to dwell on old grievances.

Reaching out, he grabbed the letter, moved away from the council table, and settled back into his seat. ‘‘So, this is the letter the ‘Ass-Head’ was talking about.”

Ass-Head

King Kessel raised an eyebrow.

Thales read the letter while explaining half-heartedly, “Oh, you know, the Secret Department has this group called 'The Prince’s Ass’... never mind, not important.”

Seeing that the Iron Hand King wasn’t interested, Thales shrugged and quickly skimmed the elegantly written words in the letter, picking out its main points.

“Taxes, conscription, and support for the regular army budget?” Thales put down the letter, and his eyes gleamed. “Well, congratulations; I'm sure Lord Solder is over the moon, and Master Kirkirk is all smiles. Your wish to expand the regular army has come true, and everyone's in good spirits, I presume?”

King Kessel fell silent for a while.

“So, you went as far as breaching the palace restrictions,” he asked finally in a low voice, “speaking out against me, conspiring even, all for this?”

Thales burst into laughter, filling the Ballard Room with his boisterous mirth.

Yet the King’s expression stayed cold as he continued to gaze at Thales.

It wasn't until Thales’ laughter subsided that he adopted a more serious tone.

“Now, about those landmines?”

The Iron Hand King narrowed his eyes.

In the room’s light, his features became sharp and clear, no longer a mere silhouette against the backlight.

“Where are they?” Thales pressed.

Taking a deep breath, he leaned forward on the table, clutching the letter in his hand.

“I mean, I have to hand it to them; this ‘Petition’ is like a masterclass in flattery and selfpreservation. It asks for tax contributions while also suggesting the abolishment of conscription. It

says that they are willing to trash their own name to publicly advocate for you, encouraging all the nobles nationwide to follow suit...”

“Besides that...” the young man squinted, “Zayen Covendier, how many landmines did he plant

for you?”

In that instant, King Kessel’s eyes flickered.

“How many traps? How many puzzles? How many roadblocks? How many flowery but empty words?”13

“How many times did he flash that wicked grin of his, and you were left fuming with no tricks up your sleeve?”

King Kessel stayed silent, and an icy tension filled the air around him.

Observing Kessel’s lack of response. Thales scoffed softly, shook his head, and leaned back in his chair, choosing not to push further.

“I’m well aware of your favourable relationship with him,” he said. “Ever since the incident six years ago, when he sent that vampire to assassinate me and he had to make it up to you with a couple crystal mines, you two have cooperated closely, a master and his loyal servant, hasn’t it?” Or perhaps... even a deal?

“But believe me, Father, Zayen and I go way back.”

Thales gazed at the letter in his hand, his expression turning frosty.

“Rather die for friends than foes...”

“When it comes to understanding each other, foes often excel more than allies.”

The King studied him closely for a moment, then grunted.

“Fascinating. Are you familiar with Jade City?”

Thales raised his gaze and promptly shook his head.

“No, I couldn’t possibly know any less about it.”14

King Kessel furrowed his brow.

“But I do know one thing: Zayen is far from being a sacrificial lamb.”

Thales couldn’t help but picture Zayen in his mind, leaving himself to briefly drift off in thought. “He may carry an air of self-righteousness, but he’s sharp in his calculations. Never one to engage in losing ventures, he puts on a pleasant facade in public but holds grudges behind closed doors. He’s a crafty and slippery self-centred bastard.”15

Thales came back to the moment, gazing earnestly at the King,

“He won’t become your loyal servant or pour his heart into your service just because of a weapon ‘accidentally misplaced’ at a banquet, or, to put it simply, for some petty plan to harm the Prince of Constellation.”

As the young man’s words fell, King Kessel’s expression stayed just as cold and unchanged.

It was as if he hadn’t picked up on the sarcasm in his words.

“Is that all?” the King asked in a rather flat tone. “Nothing else?” Thales chuckled.

He watched King Kessel’s reaction and realised that, as usual, he couldn’t read the subtle shifts in expression and body language, even with his hellish senses; it felt like trying to see through an iron wall—a haze.

But so what?

“Of course, you’re well aware of all this. You know him; understand him,” Thales said with confidence. “You’ve known it for a long time.”

“Even though you foresaw various drawbacks, knew dealing with Zayen wouldn’t be easy, and understood he wouldn’t bend to your will...” The Prince spoke firmly, “you still went with him.” “You keep using this as leverage, putting pressure on Jade City and South Coast Hill, convincing him to expand your regular army to cover the budget shortfall.”

Thales locked eyes with King Kessel, and suddenly, it all became clear.

Nuven, Chapman, the Calamity... and now Kessel.

Facing the enemy, studying them, and trying to gain the upper hand—it was just another battle. King Kessel stared back, and after a long pause, he cracked a faint, cold smirk.

“You’re wasting my time...”

Thales couldn’t hold back any longer.

“Why?” Thales cut in, interrupting the King. “Why does it have to be the South Coast?”

Leaning forward slowly, he pushed the letter with the Iris Flowers crest towards the King and asked in plain terms,

“Why them? Have to be him to fund the army expansion? Why is he the one calling for fewer conscripts on your behalf? Opening the door for military reform? Pulling the Kingdom’s war chariot for you?”

The King’s eyes flickered.

“Hmph.”

King Kessel smirked, “Because he just walked right into our hands, because he’s foolish enough to make a move on the Renaissance Palace.”

Thales closed his eyes, taking a deep breath.

“No.”

He gently reopened his eyes.

“The reason it’s the South Coast is because of Zayen.”

“It’s because you don’t have any other option.”

Thales fixed a steady gaze on the Iron Hand King.

“And the reason you don’t have any other option is...”

But Thales couldn’t finish his sentence.

“...before you join your men in your punishment,”

King Kessel’s annoyance showed on his face, his patience wearing thin.

“Don’t you have any other meaningless words to say...”

With a thunderous crash, Thales stood up tall, clenched his fists, and pounded the table hard, “...because of the Western DesertY'

Thales roared, cutting off the King’s words again.

In that moment, the Sin of Hell’s River flowed forth, fueling Thales to let out a powerful shout that rattled the Ballard Room,

‘‘‘‘The Western Desert!’’'’

As his words reverberated, the sheer force of them made the candle flames dance, casting unsteady shadows.

Western Desert

Hearing this place’s name, King Kessel’s sharp gaze froze in mid-air.

“Your Majesty?”

Urgent knocking and inquiries came from outside the door.

“Your Majesty? What’s happening? Please respond!”

But at that moment, inside the room, neither Thales nor King Kessel had the time or inclination to pay attention to the sounds outside.

Their gazes met, like two sword blades crossing, sparks flying in their friction.

“Because your first choice, your best choice, the horse you had in mind to pull your war chariot,” amid the rapid knocking on the door, Thales emphasised each word with all his strength, “It should have been the Western Desert.”

“Instead of the South Coast.”

In that instant, his gaze became the sharpest of blades, drilling straight into King Kessel’s gaze.

With a loud crash, the doors flew open!

Led by Vice Chief Vanguard Marigo, a group of royal guards stormed in urgently.

“I had a feeling something would go wrong! Protect His Majesty, seize the traitor—” Marigo began, but he was swiftly interrupted.

King Kessel, seated on the throne, sharply turned his head and bellowed, "'Get out!”

Marigo’s words came to an abrupt stop.

He stared at King Kessel, who sat unharmed but boiling with anger, and found himself at a loss.

“Your Majesty, I, I thought...”

But the Iron Hand King no longer cared about Marigo. He only furrowed his brow tightly and locked his gaze on Thales.

However, Thales grinned.

“Father,” he took a deep breath, growing more certain of his assumptions, and couldn’t help but smile.

“Why the anger?”

King Kessel reined in his fury, his breathing gradually steadying, but his gaze turned icier.

“Step back, Vanguard Marigo.” Thales returned to his seat, taking a moment to adjust his collar. In this moment, though his face was dusty, he seemed surprisingly composed and graceful.

“We’re all civilised here, not like those Northern barbarians who resort to fratricide and rebellion at the slightest provocation.”

Marigo clenched his teeth, seething with anger.

“Oh, by the way, Vice Chief Vanguard...”

Thales smiled warmly. He formed a right angle with his right thumb and forefinger, playfully directing it towards Marigo as if he were shooting a gun at him.

“The King has high expectations for you, you know.”

Marigo was taken aback in an instant.

Captain Adrian’s hand reached out from behind, rested on his shoulder, and then firmly pulled him away. There was no room for argument.

Marigo, ever dutiful, realised at that moment that the conversations among the Jadestars defied common sense.

The doors closed once more.

It was only then that Thales noticed the evening sun had completely disappeared outside at some point.

Leaving behind the coolness of the night.

“Why?” The King’s voice rang coldly.

Though it was just one word, similar to before, Thales knew what he was really asking.

“A while ago, back when I was still stuck in Dragon Clouds City at the Secret Department Headquarters, wrestling with how to make my way back to the Kingdom, Putray told me something interesting. He said that behind the rescue plan were the relentless efforts of countless Constellation citizens.”

Thales’ mind drifted back to Dragon Clouds City, and he spoke in a softer tone, “So I asked him.” “Is it all worth it?”

“Putray,” King Kessel muttered that name, his eyes bright. “Putray Nemain, did he share this with you?”

But Thales didn’t respond to his question.

He simply immersed himself in his own memories,

“The entire Constellation Kingdom, from top to bottom, sprang into action. Thousands of soldiers ventured deep into the desert, countless officials followed suit, and you even gave up control of the Blade Fangs Camp, releasing the grip you had held on the Western Frontline for years.”16

He shook his head, coming back to the present, and looked straight at the Iron Hand King. “Such a massive effort and sacrifice, all for the return of a prince who had spent six years languishing in a foreign land, a hostage of seemingly little importance.”

Thales took a deep breath, his eyes unwavering. “So, was it really worth it?”

“That’s a good question.”

Kessel the Fifth stared at Thales with a cold, scornful expression.

“But it has a lousy answer.”

a lousy answer

Thales chuckled and glanced up at the ceiling, shaking his head as if he found the situation absurd. “Of course, it’s not worth it.”

King Kessel stayed quiet, his features shifting under the steady glow of the Everlasting Lamp. Thales held up the letter in his hand.17

“Six years, from vampires to banquets, I’ve been targeted by Covendier twice.”

At that moment, his eyes were filled with complex emotions.

“Both times, you didn’t forget to squeeze compensation from the Iris Flowers, raking in riches.”18 “You, who haggle over every coin, who nitpick and calculate down to the last ounce, Father,”19 “So how could you bring yourself to mobilise the entire strength of our nation, drain countless resources, and give up a vital military stronghold, all for a business deal that’s bound to fail, all for the sake of a rash, foolish, laughable, and downright pathetic excuse for a...”

Thales paused briefly, sarcastically spitting out the final word, “Son?”

Hearing his own words thrown back at him, King Kessel didn’t seem to care as he scoffed, “What, you come here to cry on my shoulder,”

He asked sarcastically, “Son?”

Thales chuckled with a touch of self-deprecation. “No, actually, even back in the Western Desert, I had a hunch that when you sent troops, there was probably more to it.”

Thales’ mind wandered back to the distant Ghost Prince Tower,

“After all the chaos at the Blade Fangs Camp that night, witnessing the Legendary Wing’s stubbornness, I thought you wanted to capitalise on my return to the Kingdom to teach those who dared to use me as a bargaining chip—demanding the Blade Fangs Camp and the Western Frontlines from the Western Desert suzerains—a lesson.”

“To assert royal authority and put local powers in their place.”

Then his smile faded.

“But I was still too naive, too immature.”

The young man fixed his gaze firmly on the King,

“Until today, until this Imperial Conference.”

“Until this letter. “

In the soft, flickering firelight, Kessel the Fifth kept his silence.

But his gaze on Thales began to change.

“A few months ago, Father, the reason you gathered an unusually large number of regular soldiers and marched into the Western Desert, joining forces with the local suzerains,” Thales’ eyes darkened, “it wasn’t just for the supposed Northland deterrent, and it definitely wasn’t just to bring the Prince back. It wasn’t even about reclaiming the Blade Fangs Camp or giving those Western Desert suzerains a thrashing.”

“It was about a much more significant, grander, and world-changing goal—one that could shape the future of our Kingdom and beyond.”

In that moment, King Kessel’s gaze became sharper than ever.

“Yes, I underestimated you.”

Thales took a deep breath, his tone earnest as he addressed him directly, “Kessel Jadestar.

“I forgot, you are not a marketplace’s trader; you’re a ruler. Your ambitions and desires reach beyond material wealth, beyond a single city or territory.”

The swaying lamplight painted shifting shadows in the room.

From a distance, King Kessel watched his son, much like a hawk tracking its prey.

Thales knitted his brows tight as he felt a crushing weight and pressure bearing down on him.

“Describing you shouldn’t just be about being nitpicky, calculating, or even cunning,” Thales clenched his teeth, staring at his father as if facing off against the most formidable opponent in the world, “It should be—”

Thales paused for emphasis.

“Single-minded.”

“Unbridled greedy.”

“Ruthless.”

Kessel remained silent.

Thales locked his gaze with his father’s as the King’s eyes bore down on him.

One second passed, then two, and finally three.

“Now, Yodel,”

Just when Thales felt he couldn’t bear the King’s gaze any longer, Kessel the Fifth’s voice came out emotionless, cutting through the silence.

“You may go.”