ARC: Curse of the Royal Tribulation
Chapter 82: One(1) out many
After the intense interrogation, Felicia and Raphael both left the room.
Thales remained motionless, staring through the glass at the empty room on the other side, his gaze unwavering despite the swirling emotions within him.
The Sunset Pub…
Jala…
Every time Thales thought of the familiar names, waves of emotions would wash over him.
As a prince with significant duties, he had been attempting to bury those depressing feelings deep inside of his heart ever since that conversation with Gilbert.
That is, up until then.
Unaware, Thales clenched his fist.
Although there was no external threat to the Sin of Hell’s River, it was still rushing and roaring through his veins.
“Your Highness, would you mind giving me another push?”
Morat’s voice, with its comfortable and relaxed tone and the constant sizzling of black-veined vines, drew Thales back to reality from his complicated thoughts.
But it also made him even more distressed and agitated.[1]
Thales turned to face the Black Prophet, unhurriedly.
He, however, did not stir a finger to help the old man with his filthy wheelchair.
‘Why?’
‘Why did it have to be here…?’
‘Before the person he dreaded the most?’
“Did you intentionally bring Felicia here, before me?”
Thales’ voice was icy and emotionless.
The old man in the wheelchair set down his cup of tea and turned around, carefree.
“Not just to show me the consequences of my actions.”
Thales’ cold eyes focused directly on Morat.
“You are aware of who she is and her background.”
“And you are familiar with mine, too.”
“So you deliberately had Raphael bring up the Sunset Pub.”
“In front of me.”
The Black Prophet gazed at him, his wrinkle-filled face breaking into a smile.
“How is it, Your Highness? Isn’t it a pleasant surprise?”
For some reason, that smile was so twisted in Thales’ eyes. It was…
Triumphant.
Sinister.
Loathsome.
Behind it, there was a covert motive.
“What exactly are you trying to say? What is your goal?”
Thales’ fiery eyes blazed at Morat, his gaze intense and unwavering.
“Old man.”[2]
The atmosphere in the interrogation room immediately changed to one of oppression and heaviness, and the black-veined vines on the old man's wheelchair and lap began to squirm restlessly, quickly, and with a nibbling sound.
The Black Prophet let out a sinister chuckle in the dim and hushed surroundings.
He casually swung his wheelchair around and faced Thales in response to the prince’s ire and reproach.
“I assumed that you would be overjoyed to see how committed the Secret Department was to granting your wishes, particularly in bringing news about a childhood friend.”
Morat cast a sly glance at the young man in front of him,
“Prince…”
“Thales?”[3]
He intentionally paused for a very long time between the two words, making the young man furrow his brow.
They appeared to have travelled back in time to that afternoon at Mindis Hall, where Thales—a beggar, an illegitimate child, a boy hiding secrets and an uncertain future—met the most dreadful and cunning intelligence agent chief of the Kingdom of Constellation, who was on the prowl for the taboo Calamity, for the first time.
Jines, Gilbert, and even Yodel were by his side at the time, and that old hag Serena also assisted him.
But right there, in the Kingdom’s Secret Department’s den.
No one could come to his aid.
He was on his own.
“Back then, I came to you for help, you said that,” Thales regarded the old man with a chilly stare,
“I couldn’t talk about protecting them until I had grown stronger.”
“Otherwise they’ll just become my…weakness.”
His gaze was unfriendly,
“Hold me back.”
Morat tsked softly,
“Good, you still remember,”
The surrounding temperature immediately decreased as the Black Prophet’s expression turned icy.
“Then why did you still ask for Count Gilbert Caso to continuously look for them in these years?”
“Even seeking help from Raphael, have to go to such great lengths to deceive my sight and hearing?”[4]
A chill ran through Thales,
He knew.
The Duke of Star Lake observed Morat’s beaming face; it was obvious that the old man was fully aware of the matter of him entrusting Gilbert to find someone.
As always.[5]
‘But…'
‘Jala.’
The name echoed as if Thales were calling her.
‘No.’
He couldn’t let the Black Prophet find her.
For the girl was more than just Jala.
She was Jala Charleton.
The ‘Assassin’s Flower’.
“See? That’s the issue, and it’s why you’ve been at odds with the Secret Department for years,” Morat’s cold and sharp gaze fixed on him with an air of certainty,
“We have always been doing our own thing with no communication between us.”[6]
At his knees, the black-veined vines coiled up once more, rustling ominously like a swarm of vipers converging in one spot, eerie and dangerous.
Thales gritted his teeth.
The agony of having one’s mask ripped off and the innermost feelings laid bare in the Renaissance Palace…
The guilt-ridden agony from witnessing countless tragedies in the interrogation room…
The long-standing frustration and discontent over setbacks facing the Secret Department…
And the worry about Jala and the beggars—all of these pains melted into Thales’ blood vessels at that precise moment and, along with the Sin of Hell’s River, flowed into his tortured nerves.
Creating a ruckus in his chest.
Confronting the old man in front of him.
“I’ve said it before: stick your nose where it belongs and stay out of my business.”
Through clenched teeth, Thales said,
“Or have you already decided to use them as bargaining chips to threaten me?”
Black Prophet burst into laughter,
“Your Highness, you were in a perilous situation in the Northland.”
“So I am not surprised that so many misgivings led to doubts about our motives.”
“In fact, your cautious and thoughtful approach to everything is a good thing…”
With a sneer, Thales cut him off.
“Then why have you been silent for six years? Why did you wait until my return to bring this issue to my attention?”
Morat paused for a moment, as if in thought.
“You are right, Your Highness.”
“We started paying close attention to this issue…”
The old man’s tone was stern,
“Precisely because you’ve returned.”
“For you, as Duke of Star Lake, are now—or rather, when you’ve just voiced your displeasure with my wheelchair—about to become truly ‘powerful’.”
Morat shifted his gaze to the other side, to the interrogation room,
“That’s why we let you see the scene just now.”
“Your ‘weakness’.”
Weakness.
Thales shook as if in fright.
“What do you mean?”
The Black Prophet drew back the corners of his mouth into a grin.
“Your Highness, you are wise beyond your years. You don’t need me to explain why His Majesty made you come here.”
“Regarding the ‘mess’ you saw,” the old man turned to look at the empty room beyond the glass, the black-veined vines swaying back and forth as though they were constantly keeping an eye on Thales.
“What are your thoughts?”
The mess.
Thales’ mind was idle.
Morat said slowly, without waiting for his response,
“The winery employees who are out of work…”
“The order for swords at the blacksmith’s shop…”
“The protest of the nobles from Blade Edge Hill…”
Thales slipped into a trance with every word he spoke.
“A murder over lettuce…”
“And also, the northern girls from Red Square Street…”
These, these were all…
Thales’ lips trembled slightly, but he couldn’t squeeze out a single word.
“I know,” Morat said in a soothing tone,
“You feel wronged, dejected, sad, and unhappy.”
“Actually, none of this was intended by you.”
“But such is the supremacy of power.”[7]
The supremacy of power.
Thales couldn’t say anything in response.
The Black Prophet continued to stare at him, smiling broadly, but his eyes were cold.
“Before this, I’m sure everyone warned you—whether it was the Count Caso, Lady Jines, or even His Majesty—that your choices as the Prince of Constellation, Duke of Star Lake, and heir to this throne have long-lasting consequences and boundless repercussions.
Thales took a deep breath and said, “I know, I will think of a way to make amends…”
However, Morat abruptly raised his voice, muffled his remarks,
“The crueller truth—which they may not have told you—is that what you do is irrelevant in light of where you stand.”
“No matter how you make amends, it’s all pointless.”
Thales raised his head in shock.
“What?”
Irrelevant?
Pointless?
The old man wheeled himself over to him, his voice hoarse,
“Because your ‘actions’ themselves have a greater impact than their actual content and substance.”
“What’s important is not what you do, whether you do it or not, or whether you do it correctly or incorrectly, but rather that you are there.”
The Black Prophet’s eyes were like a bottomless pit that Thales was pulled into.
“It’s your position and existence.”
What’s important is not what you do…
It’s your position and existence…
Thales frowned and looked at the old man.
But what he had in mind was another person’s words,
“Thales, the world doesn’t hate us… What can’t forgive and find hard to accept, isn’t our actions…”
“But our existence.”
“You are in a different position than others when you have authority, and this creates a gap. Then, regardless of what you do at the highest levels of authority, what should happen will always happen.”
The Black Prophet looked distantly through Thales with a detached expression and misty eyes,
“You cause a slight ripple, and raging torrents roll in.”
“You understate, yet your words are vivid and powerful.”
“You speak in a soft and gentle tone, yet it echoes loud and clear.”
Slowly sighing, Morat bemoaned,
“Power, it thunders down like a raging mountain torrent and engulfs everything in its path—starting with you and extending all the way down to the common people, including the nobles of Blade Edge Hill, merchants like Dagori, blacksmiths like Old Jilburn, even Miss Felicia and that unfortunate vegetable and fruit farmer, everyone in the kingdom is subject to its influence.”
“No one can stop it; no one can resist it.
“This is the ‘weakness’ that ultimately prevents your long-awaited reunion with your old acquaintances.”
Thales stood in a daze.
“Your Highness, with all due respect, finding out where they are is simple…”
“But what happens after that?”
He kept hearing Gilbert’s words,
“Have you ever considered how your rewards, your gratitude, or even just watching from the shadows might affect them?”
“Doing one thing may be simple, but dealing with the countless consequences that follow perfectly is extremely difficult.”
Thales’ mood darkened further as he considered this.
“Are you saying that… no matter what I do, power will always influence my decisions, and that as a prince, all I can do is accept it and get in return a stone-cold heart?”
Morat remained silent and fixed his gaze intently on the young man in front of him.
The interrogation room was silent for a while.
Until the Black Prophet’s eyes regained their sharpness,
“In fact, to stop such mishaps and losses, at the top of the hierarchy, at the centre of the masses, all around us…
“A huge barrier was thus erected.”
Thales looked up.
The Black Prophet’s eyes were bright, and he said with assurance,
“A wall to stop nobles like your highness, who, with one slip, could unleash unrelenting hatred.”
“Thereby, isolating the overwhelming, raging torrent.”
Morat turned the wheelchair and looked towards the empty interrogation room,
“Thus, we have manners for socialising, glitz for living, ornaments for appearance, and guidelines for behaviour.… These may not seem related, but they are all outcomes of power, the social barriers it erects while in operation.
“Dividing people by their differences, establishing hierarchy through categorization, labeling individuals based on rejection, and enforcing conformity through division.”
“To let the world know: They are all that we are not.”[8]
Thales wrinkled his forehead.
The Black Prophet’s gaze was sharp as knife,
“It is accurate to say that they prevent communication, encourage alienation, feed conflict, and denote social classes.”
“However, they also established a natural outlet for the reckless and wild exercise of power.”
Looking at a puzzled Thales, Morat grunted softly,
“If, yesterday, you had followed etiquette by drinking that glass of wine, if you had adhered to nobility’s customs and chosen different foods to eat, if you had posted a sign clearly stating that duels were not permitted, and if you had maintained a regal distance rather than receiving people like Anker Byrael..."
Morat suddenly changed the subject,
“And this, this is the ‘weakness’ you revealed yesterday – at least, one of them.”
He did not say any more.
But Thales’ frown deepened.
The Prince suddenly remembered that on the day of his return to the Capital City, Mallos had unyieldingly stopped him from making an appearance and insisted that he remained in the carriage discreetly, claiming it would ‘save a lot of trouble’.
And he…
He, in turn, proudly handed a sword back to Mallos.
Morat let out a sigh, allowing the black-veined vines on his knees to spread wildly,
“Nobles and high-ranking officials who have grown up in a strictly regulated environment naturally understand the value of self-discipline, careful speech, appropriate behaviour, and a sombre and dignified demeanour.
They instinctively practice the principles of division and separation to avoid being a poor example and a breach in the dam, allowing power – whether from above or below – to consume them.”
Thales, with a sense of disappointment, hummed sarcastically.
“Are you suggesting that I need to retake my etiquette class?”
But the Black Prophet gave him a stern look and disregarded his interruption,
“However, it also breeds these individuals’ unconscious flaws: they have become accustomed to acting in such a way, as if it were second nature, but are unaware of the reasoning behind their actions.”
“They are trapped by the limitations set by these rules and regulations, and without them, they would not know how to react to the harsh realities of power without any restraint.”
The old man in the wheelchair looked directly at Thales, his tone changing,
“But you, Your Highness, Thales, you are different.”
Thales was taken aback.
The Black Prophet gave a hint of a smirk,
“You are of noble birth, but you come from humble beginnings.”
“You have a foothold on the upper part of the river, but you have a better understanding of the raging currents downstream than most aristocratic offspring and wealthy officials.”
“And today you see how they quietly start with the tiny ripples under your royal fingers.”
Thales bit his lower lip.
“First the mess, then my past…”
The prince kept his feelings of confusion and disarray at bay,
“Having said that, you want me to stand on this tall wall, weigh the benefits and drawbacks of power, make sacrifices, and ignore and accept the ‘raging currents’ that follow the ‘ripples’ in order to get over my weakness and truly become ‘powerful’?”
Thales felt a sense of hopelessness as he spoke those words.
Morat stared at him for a long time.
But beyond expectations, the old man ultimately shook his head.
“No.”
“I told you to eliminate your weaknesses.”
“However, the means do not have to be rigid…”
Suddenly, the Black Prophet’s voice became urgent, and each word spoken was filled with intensity,
“A slight ripple can create raging torrents.”
“A light touch can create a striking effect.”
“A soft and quiet voice can be deafening.”
Morat’s eyes sparkled with a sharp glint, like a knife,
“From a different angle, this is a strength rather than a weakness.”
“It is the genuine supremacy of power.”
“It is the kind of strength that many people desire…”
As if Thales’ eyes had been playing a trick on him…
The old man in the wheelchair in front of him had suddenly changed into the embodiment of the deepest, most impenetrable darkness, absorbing all light.
He imagined that King Nuven, King Chapman, and King Kessel were all on the other side of the darkness, gazing at him eerily.
The ominous sound of the black-veined vines grew louder as they writhed more fiercely.
“Your lack of interest in drinking causes countless winery workers to lose their jobs due to banquet organisers’ guesses and doubts about your preferences…”
“While your particular wine preferences can also inspire wine merchants to think outside the box, work hard to make better wine, or look into new markets abroad to increase exports.”[9]
The Black Prophet suddenly became aggressive and imposing,
“The careless duel you engaged in at the banquet could result in countless young people losing their lives in a split second of impulsiveness on the streets.”
“While your bravery and fearlessness in the face of duels can also inspire a strong martial spirit throughout the kingdom, sweeping away the weak and feeble voices.”
“Your indulgence and leniency toward lawless individuals like Byrael will make countless officials uneasy and restless.”
“Your unwavering dedication to justice and respect for human life, however, serves as a deterrent to those who would harm others, preventing corruption and uniting the upright and honourable to stand by you in trying times.”[10]
“It’s difficult to predict its outcomes, but your behaviour at the banquet might start a trend and have a cascading effect, encouraging opportunistic individuals to band together and harm the masses.”[11]
“But you can also turn the situation around by speaking up and making a difference, setting the direction of the kingdom, and opening up new opportunities.”
Thales was again taken aback as he faced the chief of the Secret Intelligence Department.
And hearing the old man say in a gloomy tone,
“Instead of stumbling upon the remains of power after the tidal flood has subsided, you, on both sides of the wall, ought to be looking at this.”
The supremacy of power
Thales stared at Morat, his mind racing with a hundred thoughts.
But then he recalled another statement,
”Trust me, your people will always give you a response that is unexpected and goes against your expectations.”
“They will always surprise their ruler and react in ways that you are unprepared for.”
A fierce and menacing-looking Duke of the Western Desert appeared to be standing in front of him once more, showing him an unspoken smile.
Thales’ heart sank.
“But you said that,” he struggled to get his words out,
“The impact of my ‘actions’ is greater than their content or essence.”
“No matter what I do, there will always be a mess, and if I deliberately make amends…”
“Exactly!”
The Black Prophet interjected with a loud voice, hissing like a viper, but it was particularly forceful at that moment,
“As a result, you should work harder and dedicate yourself more,”
“Making sure your actions are in line with their intended meaning and purpose,” he extended his finger and pointed towards Thales’ chest,
“By overcoming its own constraints.”
“By overcoming its rooted inherent flaws rather than being affected by its weaknesses.”
“Do you worry that, as a result of your position of power, your actions and concern for your childhood friends will become their Hell’s River ferry bell?” The Black Prophet spoke, bringing up Thales’ biggest concern. “In that case, you must think about how to get around the limitations of your position and ensure that your actions and concerns do not result in a tragic outcome.”[12]
Thales’ expression was uncertain, and his thoughts were in disarray.
“Instead of making amends, what you need to do is take charge. Not to whine while perched atop this tall wall, but to stir up and break the tides.”[13]
The Black Prophet let out a cold snort, “In the Far East, there is a saying…”
“A gentleman uses things, while a small man is used by things.”[14]
Thales lost himself in his thoughts.
“Your Highness,” The black-veined vines began to subside as Morat pressed his hands against the armrests and said, “The Kings of old did thus.”
“The Crown Prince Midier did thus.”
“And thus does His Majesty Kessel.”
Thales scowled deeply at the familiar names.
He stared at the other person intently,
“What if… I can’t do it?”
The Black Prophet smiled.
“You can do it.”
Morat pushed his wheelchair away, turning his back to the prince.
“From the moment you returned, you were capable of it.”
“You’ve been ready for a long time.”
“It’s just a matter of taking the final step.”
He grimly said,
“You are only being overly cautious, afraid, and aware of the influence it may have and the potential outcomes that could result because of this.”
Thales clenched his teeth tightly; his mind raced with uncertainty.
He jerked his head up a few seconds later, his gaze meeting the back of the Black Prophet.
“I do not like you.”
“I know,” Morat said without turning around,
“But, as I previously stated, whether you like me or not is irrelevant.”
“The important thing is, regardless of that, can you set aside personal feelings and use me to achieve actual results,” the old man said leisurely,
“With you in control?”
Thales’ expression changed slightly.
Morat inhaled deeply before adjusting his wheelchair and getting ready to leave.
At that very moment…
“Do you ever get lonely?”
The Black Prophet made a sudden move.
Only to see behind him, Thales cast a glance,
“Lord Hansen, you mentioned that it has been a while since you have come across someone who is at ease in front of you and isn’t afraid to lie to you.”
“That feeling must be very lonely.”
Morat did not utter a word; only the outline of his body could be seen.
“Then…”
Thales’ voice took on a different inflection,
“The Red Witch.”
Thales then noticed the fluttering of the wheelchair’s black-veined vines.
“Madame Calshan, who is said to be able to deceive you and has no qualms about lying to you… Is she one of them?”
Morat remained silent; all that could be seen were the black-veined vines swaying and growing more and more animated.
The mood in the interrogation room became tense.
After a few seconds.
“Please excuse me; I am getting older and my energy is limited.”
The Black Prophet said, “I am going to rest now,” but even as his body remained motionless, the demon vines on his knees were violently trembling, engulfing the wheels and painting them a never-ending shade of black,
“Raphael, make the prince feel welcome and treat him well.”
Thales turned his head in surprise and saw that Raphael had, before he knew it, stood at the doorway.
The Barren Bone man respectfully bowed.
Meanwhile, Morat’s wheelchair, covered in dark vines, began to roll forward in an eerie and unnerving way, taking him with it as it disappeared out the door.
The interrogation room returned to normalcy, and the tension dissipated.
Thales cast a vacant glance in the direction where the Black Prophet had gone.
“So, it turns out his wheelchair can move on its own,”
He said in a low voice,
“I didn’t even have to push it.”
Raphael approached him and said with a smile,
“Sometimes, a little push is all some people need.”
Thales exhaled deeply.
“How have you been able to deal with him over all these years?”
Raphael arched his brow, his gaze fixed on the door through which the Black Prophet had vanished.
“He speaks,” said the Barren Bone man calmly,
“And I listen.”
Thales scowled and grumbled,
“I would imagine so.”
Raphael gave a loose smile and gestured to the door,
“As I said, you would only feel more uneasy once you visited the Secret Department.”
The prince let out a sigh and followed Raphael out of the interrogation room.
“Has that girl, Felicia, left?”
With conflicted emotions, Thales walked past the portrait of ‘The Brightest Star’ Princess Theodora (“I didn’t even look at you, you self-centered jerk. Don’t be so full of yourself!” – Thales’ inner rage), casually asking.[15]
Raphael nodded,
“What’s wrong? You want to keep her company for a little while longer?”
Thales creased his brows and looked at him, dissatisfied.
Raphael smiled easily and raised his hands in surrender.
With a glance, Thales dismissed him and let out a small scoff,
“Rather you, don’t you think… Kohen?” [16]
“He’ll be alright,” Raphael said calmly, without a hint of guilt on his face. “When she realises he’s not me.”
“But you won’t,” Thales said with a tinge of sarcasm. “When he realises you sold him out.”
“No big deal,” Raphael said carefreely.
“He’s grown accustomed to it.”
“Besides, as for Kohen…”
Raphael hesitated, just a bit, his mouth curving, and kept his words to himself,
‘He is no match for me, anyway.’
“Raphael.”
They walked in silence for a bit until Thales suddenly spoke up,
“Is this something you all do often?”
“Wipe my…ass?”[17]
Raphael turned around with a furrowed brow.
“Morat says that I’ve always been out of step with the Secret Department—we always go our separate ways and never communicate.” Thales murmured.
“I’ve been nothing but… trouble for you all, haven’t I?”
Raphael let out a small sigh.
“I suppose so.” He replied without thinking and didn’t say anything else.
Thales let out a small chuckle.
'Isn’t that so?’
“But, it’s not all bad, right? I’ve… helped out too?”
Thales thought about the ‘mess’ he saw today and the Secret Department’s ‘ass wiping’ for him.
“Instead of making amends, what you need to do is take charge.”
Raphael fell silent for a moment.
“Do you want me to speak openly?”
Thales stared at the Barren Bone man.
“At the National Conference, Dragon Clouds City, the Great Desert, the Blade Fangs Camp…”
While listing each location one by one, Raphael kept a straight face,
“In essence, all of your efforts to ‘save the world on your own’…”
“Are having the opposite effect of what they were intended to accomplish.”
Thales’ face lost its colour.
“You’ve got to be kidding, right?”
Raphael gave a polite, insincere smile as he turned his head.
“But then—”
Thales hastened to his side, growling,
“At the National Conference, if I hadn’t stirred things up with Zayen…”[18]
“We had a backup plan.”
“In Dragon Clouds City, if I hadn’t gone back and foiled Lampard’s plans…”
“We also had a backup plan.”
“The Great Desert…”
“Within expectations.”
“The Blade Fang Camp…”
“Couldn’t be more unhelpful.”
Thales struggled to get it out in one breath and said grumpily,
“Really?”
Raphael shrugged, “The Secret Department of the Kingdom is presented as the most confidential place in Constellation, with thorough plans for anything—including you, and the Prince’s Ass being one of them.”
Thales took a deep breath and reminded himself not to lose his cool when he heard that term.
“Alright, let’s take the most extreme case as an example…”
“Going back six years ago, as you now carry out ‘Dragon’s Blood’, do you all think it can lead to situations such as the Charletons, the Shadow Shield, the Secret Room, and Chapman Lampard spiralling out of control?”
Raphael turned his head to look at him.
“Absolutely,”
“All has been considered.”
After a brief moment of surprise, Thales maintained a stiff upper lip,[19]
“You people in the Secret Department… are actually quite daring to say that?”
With a hushed tone and a head shake, Raphael said,
“That’s the way things are.”
“The authority and abilities of the Secret Department, as well as the relationship and balance of power between the two nations, have already predetermined how the ‘Dragon’s Blood’ operation will turn out.”[20]
“However, most importantly, no matter how things progress, they remain within reasonable bounds and will not surpassed our expectations.”
“Even if there are any unexpected developments, they will fall within the range of the contingency plan.”
Thales let out a snort of contempt.
“Is that so?”
Thales drew in a deep breath and thought back to his conversation with the Black Prophet about the ramifications of power.
“Chapman claims the throne; his aspirations are greater than Nuven’s.”
“The Northland is in a state of ruin; the degree of chaos is far above what was anticipated.”
“The prince has been taken as a prisoner; the continuity of the royal line is in doubt.”[21]
“Are these also part of the plan?”
They walked on.
“This has already been discussed, right? No matter who prevails—Lampard or Nuven—or if both sides massacre one another,” Raphael said with a shrug,
“The Dragon’s Blood will tear Eckstedt apart and render it incapable of coming together, just as it is now.”
“As for Lampard’s desire for power, the situation in the North, and even your whereabouts…”
“They are all part of the plan.”
‘Sure thing.’
Thales’ cold laughter echoed as he folded his arms,
“And the Calamity?”
“What will happen if the Queen of the Sky fails to appear and the blood-red giant tentacles in Dragon Clouds City lose control?”
Raphael paused for a brief period of time.
“Rest assured, we have a contingency plan.”
The Barren Bone man said in a flat tone,
“Even if the dragon doesn’t appear, we have a trustworthy way to keep the blood Calamity entirely under control.”
Thales smirked with irony as he recalled the strength of the Mystic Giza.
‘Is that so?’
‘I seriously doubt it.’
“What’s going to happen now that the Red Witch has exposed your plan and you’ve been turned into a pawn in someone else’s game? How do you plan to fall back?”[22]
“Since we need to go to Dragon Clouds City, it’s a given that we’ll have to confront the Secret Room,” Raphael said matter-of-factly.
“We were prepared for the possibility of them standing in our way.”
“You come out safe and sound, don’t you?”
Thales curled his lips and shook his head.
‘You’re talking big, aren’t you?’
“What will happen when King Chapman enters the Heroic Spirit Palace, gathers the Archdukes, and orders the army to march south to swoop down on the Kingdom of Constellation?”
The prince said with a frosty tone,
“Don’t tell me that was also taken into account?”
“Do you have a backup plan for that as well?”
Raphael replied with only an affirmation, not bothering to elaborate,
“Of course.”
Thales disdainfully shook his head and sneered,
“Ah, I see. The backup plan is nothing more than a chimney big enough for a little boy to sneak back into the Heroic Spirit Palace.…”
Raphael’s pace suddenly came to a halt!
He stopped in his tracks.
Thales whirled around in confusion.
“This is supposed to be strictly confidential, but, Your Highness, given your reservations…”
The prince suddenly noticed the very solemn expression on the Barren Bone man’s face.
“Let me try to put this into words.”
Raphael was staring at him with piercing red eyes,
“Do you believe that if Lampard had been successful in pinning King Nuven’s murder on you and persuading the Archdukes to march south, we would have had no way of countering his actions?”
A way of countering…
There was a subtle hint of frustration on Thales’ face.
“For the past six years, you’ve been under the impression that you’ve been saving the world by yourself, but that’s not the whole story.”
A small change in emotion could be seen on the prince’s face.
Raphael’s speech was cryptic, hinting at a deeper meaning,
“What led you to believe that on that day in the Heroic Spirit Palace…”
“The party ally who collaborated with us through a secret agreement…”
In a quiet, hushed voice, Raphael said,
“Was only one of them, Lampard?”[23]
There was a conclusion to the conversation.
At that point, time seemed to stand still.
Thales was completely stupefied.
Only one of them, Lampard…
‘What…'
‘Did it imply?’
Raphael stood motionless in the quiet corridor, staring at the stunned Thales,
“I apologise if my words come across as impolite, Your Highness.”
“But though your first choice was quite daring.”
In the portrait, ‘Eastern Beauty’, Elva looked at them quietly.
“You’re, however, only one of the game’s many backup pieces… ”
Raphael’s intense expression matched the tone of his voice.
“One of many.”[24]
Thales was in a state of numbness for some time.
One of many?
The chaotic, bloody incident that had taken place in Dragon Clouds City six years earlier was brought back to Thales’ mind, and the memory was so clear that he felt as though he were there again.
The Calamity’s arrival, Nuven’s demise, Black Sands advancing on the city, the Archdukes’ alliance, the march to the south, the Archduchess, King Chapman…
‘But…’
His mind was filled with memories from the past.
Its weight caused him to stumble.
Dragon Clouds City, Heroic Spirit Palace.
Past experiences and memories that had been beautifully painted onto canvas were just torn apart by Raphael’s words.
‘But…’
‘No.’
One of them.
‘No!’
Raphael watched the prince’s troubled expression with a satisfied smile, then turned away.
Yet, right then and there.
“Byrael.”
The Barren Bone man gave a peculiar glance behind him.
“Anker Byrael, that assassin from last night.”
Only to observe Thales slowly raising his head, sporting a bewildered expression and soft muttering,
“Raphael, I want to see him.”
The prince’s brows knitted together, with a tinge of urgency,
“Immediately.”
[1] ‘Distressed’ ‘心烦意乱’, ‘heart distracted, thoughts in turmoil’ (idiom); distraught with anxiety.
[2] ‘Older man, blame my creativity with words here, I couldn’t do better than this… anyway, '老家伙’ It’s not necessarily an insult, but implies that the person being referred to is older and perhaps a bit out of touch or outdated. Should I put geezer, old fart...? I wanna put old fart.
[3] ‘泰尔斯……王子？’ , ‘Thales…wángzǐ?’ The way that Morat said it could be better understood as ‘Thales.. Prince?’
[4] ‘Go to great lengths…’, ‘千方百计’, (idiom) ‘thousand ways, a hundred plans’.
[5] ‘一如既往’, ‘just as in the past’ (idiom); as before; continuing as always.
[6] ‘doing our own thing ‘ ,各行其是, (idiom) 'each one does what he thinks is right’.
[7] It can also be ‘The power of authority’, The influence or ability to control and make decisions that come with having authority or control. ‘权力的威能’.
[8] The italic part was in English in the raws.
[9] ‘to think outside the box’, ‘挖空心思’, (idiom) ‘to dig for thoughts’, to rack one’s brains.
[10] ‘in trying times’, ‘赴汤蹈火’ , (idiom) ‘ jump into scalding water and plunge into raging fire’, to go to any lengths (for a noble cause).
[11] ‘start a trend’, ‘上行下效’, ‘subordinates follow the example of their superiors’ (idiom), If a leader sets a bad example, it will be followed by his subordinates.
[12] ‘Tragic outcome ‘, lit. ‘赶走那艘催命的摆渡船’, drive away the ferry that is (idiom) pressing you to death.
[13] ‘Stirring up waves and breaking the surf’, what Morat said was ‘弄潮破浪’ as in ‘乘风破浪’ , ‘to brave the wind and the billows’ (idiom); to have high ambitions.
[14] ‘君子役物，小人役于物’, this is a quote from Confucius it suggests that a true gentleman is able to use things to his advantage, while a small man is controlled by them.
[15] ‘Look, look, look. What the f*ck are you looking at, dickhead’ – Princess Theodora.
[16] ‘倒是你…’ It is a way to change the topic from concentrating on the speaker to the listener, and sounds like blaming the listener to some extent. ‘Same goes for you…, how about you…, and you…’
[17] ‘擦屁股’ (lit.) to wipe one’s ass, to clear up sb else’s mess.
[18] Remembering that in Chinese, first is the name then the ‘title’, so it could be ‘Duke (Zayen)…’ there, but I kinda doubt that.
[19] ‘to keep a stiff upper lip’, ‘气笑’ is used to describe a situation where someone is able to maintain their composure and appear calm and composed despite being inwardly angry or upset.
[20] Behold the tense change! And if it looks awkward, isn’t more than me trying to figure out which tense should I stick with. They’ll from here and-a-bit on talk as if they were in past.
[21] It could be ‘the line of succession is in doubt ‘ but I don’t think that is his point here.
[22] ‘Pawn in someone else’s game’, ‘壳生蛋’ (lit. shell gives birth to eggs) is a Chinese idiomatic expression which means ‘to use someone else’s resources or identity for one’s own gain’.
[23] Maybe I kinda force this one, because of the keywords, but it seemed right this way, anyway ‘只有伦巴一个’ direct translation ‘only Lampard alone’.
[24] ‘其中一枚’ means ‘one of them’ being specific and ‘one of many’ when isn’t. Along the chapter there was phrases used in the same way, to indicate that the person or thing being referred to is one of many.
ARC: Curse of the Royal Tribulation
Chapter 82: One(1) out many
After the intense interrogation, Felicia and Raphael both left the room.
Thales remained motionless, staring through the glass at the empty room on the other side, his gaze unwavering despite the swirling emotions within him.
The Sunset Pub…
Jala…
Every time Thales thought of the familiar names, waves of emotions would wash over him.
As a prince with significant duties, he had been attempting to bury those depressing feelings deep inside of his heart ever since that conversation with Gilbert.
That is, up until then.
Unaware, Thales clenched his fist.
Although there was no external threat to the Sin of Hell’s River, it was still rushing and roaring through his veins.
“Your Highness, would you mind giving me another push?”
Morat’s voice, with its comfortable and relaxed tone and the constant sizzling of black-veined vines, drew Thales back to reality from his complicated thoughts.
But it also made him even more distressed and agitated.[1]
Thales turned to face the Black Prophet, unhurriedly.
He, however, did not stir a finger to help the old man with his filthy wheelchair.
‘Why?’
‘Why did it have to be here…?’
‘Before the person he dreaded the most?’
“Did you intentionally bring Felicia here, before me?”
Thales’ voice was icy and emotionless.
The old man in the wheelchair set down his cup of tea and turned around, carefree.
“Not just to show me the consequences of my actions.”
Thales’ cold eyes focused directly on Morat.
“You are aware of who she is and her background.”
“And you are familiar with mine, too.”
“So you deliberately had Raphael bring up the Sunset Pub.”
“In front of me.”
The Black Prophet gazed at him, his wrinkle-filled face breaking into a smile.
“How is it, Your Highness? Isn’t it a pleasant surprise?”
For some reason, that smile was so twisted in Thales’ eyes. It was…
Triumphant.
Sinister.
Loathsome.
Behind it, there was a covert motive.
“What exactly are you trying to say? What is your goal?”
Thales’ fiery eyes blazed at Morat, his gaze intense and unwavering.
“Old man.”[2]
The atmosphere in the interrogation room immediately changed to one of oppression and heaviness, and the black-veined vines on the old man's wheelchair and lap began to squirm restlessly, quickly, and with a nibbling sound.
The Black Prophet let out a sinister chuckle in the dim and hushed surroundings.
He casually swung his wheelchair around and faced Thales in response to the prince’s ire and reproach.
“I assumed that you would be overjoyed to see how committed the Secret Department was to granting your wishes, particularly in bringing news about a childhood friend.”
Morat cast a sly glance at the young man in front of him,
“Prince…”
“Thales?”[3]
He intentionally paused for a very long time between the two words, making the young man furrow his brow.
They appeared to have travelled back in time to that afternoon at Mindis Hall, where Thales—a beggar, an illegitimate child, a boy hiding secrets and an uncertain future—met the most dreadful and cunning intelligence agent chief of the Kingdom of Constellation, who was on the prowl for the taboo Calamity, for the first time.
Jines, Gilbert, and even Yodel were by his side at the time, and that old hag Serena also assisted him.
But right there, in the Kingdom’s Secret Department’s den.
No one could come to his aid.
He was on his own.
“Back then, I came to you for help, you said that,” Thales regarded the old man with a chilly stare,
“I couldn’t talk about protecting them until I had grown stronger.”
“Otherwise they’ll just become my…weakness.”
His gaze was unfriendly,
“Hold me back.”
Morat tsked softly,
“Good, you still remember,”
The surrounding temperature immediately decreased as the Black Prophet’s expression turned icy.
“Then why did you still ask for Count Gilbert Caso to continuously look for them in these years?”
“Even seeking help from Raphael, have to go to such great lengths to deceive my sight and hearing?”[4]
A chill ran through Thales,
He knew.
The Duke of Star Lake observed Morat’s beaming face; it was obvious that the old man was fully aware of the matter of him entrusting Gilbert to find someone.
As always.[5]
‘But…'
‘Jala.’
The name echoed as if Thales were calling her.
‘No.’
He couldn’t let the Black Prophet find her.
For the girl was more than just Jala.
She was Jala Charleton.
The ‘Assassin’s Flower’.
“See? That’s the issue, and it’s why you’ve been at odds with the Secret Department for years,” Morat’s cold and sharp gaze fixed on him with an air of certainty,
“We have always been doing our own thing with no communication between us.”[6]
At his knees, the black-veined vines coiled up once more, rustling ominously like a swarm of vipers converging in one spot, eerie and dangerous.
Thales gritted his teeth.
The agony of having one’s mask ripped off and the innermost feelings laid bare in the Renaissance Palace…
The guilt-ridden agony from witnessing countless tragedies in the interrogation room…
The long-standing frustration and discontent over setbacks facing the Secret Department…
And the worry about Jala and the beggars—all of these pains melted into Thales’ blood vessels at that precise moment and, along with the Sin of Hell’s River, flowed into his tortured nerves.
Creating a ruckus in his chest.
Confronting the old man in front of him.
“I’ve said it before: stick your nose where it belongs and stay out of my business.”
Through clenched teeth, Thales said,
“Or have you already decided to use them as bargaining chips to threaten me?”
Black Prophet burst into laughter,
“Your Highness, you were in a perilous situation in the Northland.”
“So I am not surprised that so many misgivings led to doubts about our motives.”
“In fact, your cautious and thoughtful approach to everything is a good thing…”
With a sneer, Thales cut him off.
“Then why have you been silent for six years? Why did you wait until my return to bring this issue to my attention?”
Morat paused for a moment, as if in thought.
“You are right, Your Highness.”
“We started paying close attention to this issue…”
The old man’s tone was stern,
“Precisely because you’ve returned.”
“For you, as Duke of Star Lake, are now—or rather, when you’ve just voiced your displeasure with my wheelchair—about to become truly ‘powerful’.”
Morat shifted his gaze to the other side, to the interrogation room,
“That’s why we let you see the scene just now.”
“Your ‘weakness’.”
Weakness.
Thales shook as if in fright.
“What do you mean?”
The Black Prophet drew back the corners of his mouth into a grin.
“Your Highness, you are wise beyond your years. You don’t need me to explain why His Majesty made you come here.”
“Regarding the ‘mess’ you saw,” the old man turned to look at the empty room beyond the glass, the black-veined vines swaying back and forth as though they were constantly keeping an eye on Thales.
“What are your thoughts?”
The mess.
Thales’ mind was idle.
Morat said slowly, without waiting for his response,
“The winery employees who are out of work…”
“The order for swords at the blacksmith’s shop…”
“The protest of the nobles from Blade Edge Hill…”
Thales slipped into a trance with every word he spoke.
“A murder over lettuce…”
“And also, the northern girls from Red Square Street…”
These, these were all…
Thales’ lips trembled slightly, but he couldn’t squeeze out a single word.
“I know,” Morat said in a soothing tone,
“You feel wronged, dejected, sad, and unhappy.”
“Actually, none of this was intended by you.”
“But such is the supremacy of power.”[7]
The supremacy of power.
Thales couldn’t say anything in response.
The Black Prophet continued to stare at him, smiling broadly, but his eyes were cold.
“Before this, I’m sure everyone warned you—whether it was the Count Caso, Lady Jines, or even His Majesty—that your choices as the Prince of Constellation, Duke of Star Lake, and heir to this throne have long-lasting consequences and boundless repercussions.
Thales took a deep breath and said, “I know, I will think of a way to make amends…”
However, Morat abruptly raised his voice, muffled his remarks,
“The crueller truth—which they may not have told you—is that what you do is irrelevant in light of where you stand.”
“No matter how you make amends, it’s all pointless.”
Thales raised his head in shock.
“What?”
Irrelevant?
Pointless?
The old man wheeled himself over to him, his voice hoarse,
“Because your ‘actions’ themselves have a greater impact than their actual content and substance.”
“What’s important is not what you do, whether you do it or not, or whether you do it correctly or incorrectly, but rather that you are there.”
The Black Prophet’s eyes were like a bottomless pit that Thales was pulled into.
“It’s your position and existence.”
What’s important is not what you do…
It’s your position and existence…
Thales frowned and looked at the old man.
But what he had in mind was another person’s words,
“Thales, the world doesn’t hate us… What can’t forgive and find hard to accept, isn’t our actions…”
“But our existence.”
“You are in a different position than others when you have authority, and this creates a gap. Then, regardless of what you do at the highest levels of authority, what should happen will always happen.”
The Black Prophet looked distantly through Thales with a detached expression and misty eyes,
“You cause a slight ripple, and raging torrents roll in.”
“You understate, yet your words are vivid and powerful.”
“You speak in a soft and gentle tone, yet it echoes loud and clear.”
Slowly sighing, Morat bemoaned,
“Power, it thunders down like a raging mountain torrent and engulfs everything in its path—starting with you and extending all the way down to the common people, including the nobles of Blade Edge Hill, merchants like Dagori, blacksmiths like Old Jilburn, even Miss Felicia and that unfortunate vegetable and fruit farmer, everyone in the kingdom is subject to its influence.”
“No one can stop it; no one can resist it.
“This is the ‘weakness’ that ultimately prevents your long-awaited reunion with your old acquaintances.”
Thales stood in a daze.
“Your Highness, with all due respect, finding out where they are is simple…”
“But what happens after that?”
He kept hearing Gilbert’s words,
“Have you ever considered how your rewards, your gratitude, or even just watching from the shadows might affect them?”
“Doing one thing may be simple, but dealing with the countless consequences that follow perfectly is extremely difficult.”
Thales’ mood darkened further as he considered this.
“Are you saying that… no matter what I do, power will always influence my decisions, and that as a prince, all I can do is accept it and get in return a stone-cold heart?”
Morat remained silent and fixed his gaze intently on the young man in front of him.
The interrogation room was silent for a while.
Until the Black Prophet’s eyes regained their sharpness,
“In fact, to stop such mishaps and losses, at the top of the hierarchy, at the centre of the masses, all around us…
“A huge barrier was thus erected.”
Thales looked up.
The Black Prophet’s eyes were bright, and he said with assurance,
“A wall to stop nobles like your highness, who, with one slip, could unleash unrelenting hatred.”
“Thereby, isolating the overwhelming, raging torrent.”
Morat turned the wheelchair and looked towards the empty interrogation room,
“Thus, we have manners for socialising, glitz for living, ornaments for appearance, and guidelines for behaviour.… These may not seem related, but they are all outcomes of power, the social barriers it erects while in operation.
“Dividing people by their differences, establishing hierarchy through categorization, labeling individuals based on rejection, and enforcing conformity through division.”
“To let the world know: They are all that we are not.”[8]
Thales wrinkled his forehead.
The Black Prophet’s gaze was sharp as knife,
“It is accurate to say that they prevent communication, encourage alienation, feed conflict, and denote social classes.”
“However, they also established a natural outlet for the reckless and wild exercise of power.”
Looking at a puzzled Thales, Morat grunted softly,
“If, yesterday, you had followed etiquette by drinking that glass of wine, if you had adhered to nobility’s customs and chosen different foods to eat, if you had posted a sign clearly stating that duels were not permitted, and if you had maintained a regal distance rather than receiving people like Anker Byrael..."
Morat suddenly changed the subject,
“And this, this is the ‘weakness’ you revealed yesterday – at least, one of them.”
He did not say any more.
But Thales’ frown deepened.
The Prince suddenly remembered that on the day of his return to the Capital City, Mallos had unyieldingly stopped him from making an appearance and insisted that he remained in the carriage discreetly, claiming it would ‘save a lot of trouble’.
And he…
He, in turn, proudly handed a sword back to Mallos.
Morat let out a sigh, allowing the black-veined vines on his knees to spread wildly,
“Nobles and high-ranking officials who have grown up in a strictly regulated environment naturally understand the value of self-discipline, careful speech, appropriate behaviour, and a sombre and dignified demeanour.
They instinctively practice the principles of division and separation to avoid being a poor example and a breach in the dam, allowing power – whether from above or below – to consume them.”
Thales, with a sense of disappointment, hummed sarcastically.
“Are you suggesting that I need to retake my etiquette class?”
But the Black Prophet gave him a stern look and disregarded his interruption,
“However, it also breeds these individuals’ unconscious flaws: they have become accustomed to acting in such a way, as if it were second nature, but are unaware of the reasoning behind their actions.”
“They are trapped by the limitations set by these rules and regulations, and without them, they would not know how to react to the harsh realities of power without any restraint.”
The old man in the wheelchair looked directly at Thales, his tone changing,
“But you, Your Highness, Thales, you are different.”
Thales was taken aback.
The Black Prophet gave a hint of a smirk,
“You are of noble birth, but you come from humble beginnings.”
“You have a foothold on the upper part of the river, but you have a better understanding of the raging currents downstream than most aristocratic offspring and wealthy officials.”
“And today you see how they quietly start with the tiny ripples under your royal fingers.”
Thales bit his lower lip.
“First the mess, then my past…”
The prince kept his feelings of confusion and disarray at bay,
“Having said that, you want me to stand on this tall wall, weigh the benefits and drawbacks of power, make sacrifices, and ignore and accept the ‘raging currents’ that follow the ‘ripples’ in order to get over my weakness and truly become ‘powerful’?”
Thales felt a sense of hopelessness as he spoke those words.
Morat stared at him for a long time.
But beyond expectations, the old man ultimately shook his head.
“No.”
“I told you to eliminate your weaknesses.”
“However, the means do not have to be rigid…”
Suddenly, the Black Prophet’s voice became urgent, and each word spoken was filled with intensity,
“A slight ripple can create raging torrents.”
“A light touch can create a striking effect.”
“A soft and quiet voice can be deafening.”
Morat’s eyes sparkled with a sharp glint, like a knife,
“From a different angle, this is a strength rather than a weakness.”
“It is the genuine supremacy of power.”
“It is the kind of strength that many people desire…”
As if Thales’ eyes had been playing a trick on him…
The old man in the wheelchair in front of him had suddenly changed into the embodiment of the deepest, most impenetrable darkness, absorbing all light.
He imagined that King Nuven, King Chapman, and King Kessel were all on the other side of the darkness, gazing at him eerily.
The ominous sound of the black-veined vines grew louder as they writhed more fiercely.
“Your lack of interest in drinking causes countless winery workers to lose their jobs due to banquet organisers’ guesses and doubts about your preferences…”
“While your particular wine preferences can also inspire wine merchants to think outside the box, work hard to make better wine, or look into new markets abroad to increase exports.”[9]
The Black Prophet suddenly became aggressive and imposing,
“The careless duel you engaged in at the banquet could result in countless young people losing their lives in a split second of impulsiveness on the streets.”
“While your bravery and fearlessness in the face of duels can also inspire a strong martial spirit throughout the kingdom, sweeping away the weak and feeble voices.”
“Your indulgence and leniency toward lawless individuals like Byrael will make countless officials uneasy and restless.”
“Your unwavering dedication to justice and respect for human life, however, serves as a deterrent to those who would harm others, preventing corruption and uniting the upright and honourable to stand by you in trying times.”[10]
“It’s difficult to predict its outcomes, but your behaviour at the banquet might start a trend and have a cascading effect, encouraging opportunistic individuals to band together and harm the masses.”[11]
“But you can also turn the situation around by speaking up and making a difference, setting the direction of the kingdom, and opening up new opportunities.”
Thales was again taken aback as he faced the chief of the Secret Intelligence Department.
And hearing the old man say in a gloomy tone,
“Instead of stumbling upon the remains of power after the tidal flood has subsided, you, on both sides of the wall, ought to be looking at this.”
The supremacy of power
Thales stared at Morat, his mind racing with a hundred thoughts.
But then he recalled another statement,
”Trust me, your people will always give you a response that is unexpected and goes against your expectations.”
“They will always surprise their ruler and react in ways that you are unprepared for.”
A fierce and menacing-looking Duke of the Western Desert appeared to be standing in front of him once more, showing him an unspoken smile.
Thales’ heart sank.
“But you said that,” he struggled to get his words out,
“The impact of my ‘actions’ is greater than their content or essence.”
“No matter what I do, there will always be a mess, and if I deliberately make amends…”
“Exactly!”
The Black Prophet interjected with a loud voice, hissing like a viper, but it was particularly forceful at that moment,
“As a result, you should work harder and dedicate yourself more,”
“Making sure your actions are in line with their intended meaning and purpose,” he extended his finger and pointed towards Thales’ chest,
“By overcoming its own constraints.”
“By overcoming its rooted inherent flaws rather than being affected by its weaknesses.”
“Do you worry that, as a result of your position of power, your actions and concern for your childhood friends will become their Hell’s River ferry bell?” The Black Prophet spoke, bringing up Thales’ biggest concern. “In that case, you must think about how to get around the limitations of your position and ensure that your actions and concerns do not result in a tragic outcome.”[12]
Thales’ expression was uncertain, and his thoughts were in disarray.
“Instead of making amends, what you need to do is take charge. Not to whine while perched atop this tall wall, but to stir up and break the tides.”[13]
The Black Prophet let out a cold snort, “In the Far East, there is a saying…”
“A gentleman uses things, while a small man is used by things.”[14]
Thales lost himself in his thoughts.
“Your Highness,” The black-veined vines began to subside as Morat pressed his hands against the armrests and said, “The Kings of old did thus.”
“The Crown Prince Midier did thus.”
“And thus does His Majesty Kessel.”
Thales scowled deeply at the familiar names.
He stared at the other person intently,
“What if… I can’t do it?”
The Black Prophet smiled.
“You can do it.”
Morat pushed his wheelchair away, turning his back to the prince.
“From the moment you returned, you were capable of it.”
“You’ve been ready for a long time.”
“It’s just a matter of taking the final step.”
He grimly said,
“You are only being overly cautious, afraid, and aware of the influence it may have and the potential outcomes that could result because of this.”
Thales clenched his teeth tightly; his mind raced with uncertainty.
He jerked his head up a few seconds later, his gaze meeting the back of the Black Prophet.
“I do not like you.”
“I know,” Morat said without turning around,
“But, as I previously stated, whether you like me or not is irrelevant.”
“The important thing is, regardless of that, can you set aside personal feelings and use me to achieve actual results,” the old man said leisurely,
“With you in control?”
Thales’ expression changed slightly.
Morat inhaled deeply before adjusting his wheelchair and getting ready to leave.
At that very moment…
“Do you ever get lonely?”
The Black Prophet made a sudden move.
Only to see behind him, Thales cast a glance,
“Lord Hansen, you mentioned that it has been a while since you have come across someone who is at ease in front of you and isn’t afraid to lie to you.”
“That feeling must be very lonely.”
Morat did not utter a word; only the outline of his body could be seen.
“Then…”
Thales’ voice took on a different inflection,
“The Red Witch.”
Thales then noticed the fluttering of the wheelchair’s black-veined vines.
“Madame Calshan, who is said to be able to deceive you and has no qualms about lying to you… Is she one of them?”
Morat remained silent; all that could be seen were the black-veined vines swaying and growing more and more animated.
The mood in the interrogation room became tense.
After a few seconds.
“Please excuse me; I am getting older and my energy is limited.”
The Black Prophet said, “I am going to rest now,” but even as his body remained motionless, the demon vines on his knees were violently trembling, engulfing the wheels and painting them a never-ending shade of black,
“Raphael, make the prince feel welcome and treat him well.”
Thales turned his head in surprise and saw that Raphael had, before he knew it, stood at the doorway.
The Barren Bone man respectfully bowed.
Meanwhile, Morat’s wheelchair, covered in dark vines, began to roll forward in an eerie and unnerving way, taking him with it as it disappeared out the door.
The interrogation room returned to normalcy, and the tension dissipated.
Thales cast a vacant glance in the direction where the Black Prophet had gone.
“So, it turns out his wheelchair can move on its own,”
He said in a low voice,
“I didn’t even have to push it.”
Raphael approached him and said with a smile,
“Sometimes, a little push is all some people need.”
Thales exhaled deeply.
“How have you been able to deal with him over all these years?”
Raphael arched his brow, his gaze fixed on the door through which the Black Prophet had vanished.
“He speaks,” said the Barren Bone man calmly,
“And I listen.”
Thales scowled and grumbled,
“I would imagine so.”
Raphael gave a loose smile and gestured to the door,
“As I said, you would only feel more uneasy once you visited the Secret Department.”
The prince let out a sigh and followed Raphael out of the interrogation room.
“Has that girl, Felicia, left?”
With conflicted emotions, Thales walked past the portrait of ‘The Brightest Star’ Princess Theodora (“I didn’t even look at you, you self-centered jerk. Don’t be so full of yourself!” – Thales’ inner rage), casually asking.[15]
Raphael nodded,
“What’s wrong? You want to keep her company for a little while longer?”
Thales creased his brows and looked at him, dissatisfied.
Raphael smiled easily and raised his hands in surrender.
With a glance, Thales dismissed him and let out a small scoff,
“Rather you, don’t you think… Kohen?” [16]
“He’ll be alright,” Raphael said calmly, without a hint of guilt on his face. “When she realises he’s not me.”
“But you won’t,” Thales said with a tinge of sarcasm. “When he realises you sold him out.”
“No big deal,” Raphael said carefreely.
“He’s grown accustomed to it.”
“Besides, as for Kohen…”
Raphael hesitated, just a bit, his mouth curving, and kept his words to himself,
‘He is no match for me, anyway.’
“Raphael.”
They walked in silence for a bit until Thales suddenly spoke up,
“Is this something you all do often?”
“Wipe my…ass?”[17]
Raphael turned around with a furrowed brow.
“Morat says that I’ve always been out of step with the Secret Department—we always go our separate ways and never communicate.” Thales murmured.
“I’ve been nothing but… trouble for you all, haven’t I?”
Raphael let out a small sigh.
“I suppose so.” He replied without thinking and didn’t say anything else.
Thales let out a small chuckle.
'Isn’t that so?’
“But, it’s not all bad, right? I’ve… helped out too?”
Thales thought about the ‘mess’ he saw today and the Secret Department’s ‘ass wiping’ for him.
“Instead of making amends, what you need to do is take charge.”
Raphael fell silent for a moment.
“Do you want me to speak openly?”
Thales stared at the Barren Bone man.
“At the National Conference, Dragon Clouds City, the Great Desert, the Blade Fangs Camp…”
While listing each location one by one, Raphael kept a straight face,
“In essence, all of your efforts to ‘save the world on your own’…”
“Are having the opposite effect of what they were intended to accomplish.”
Thales’ face lost its colour.
“You’ve got to be kidding, right?”
Raphael gave a polite, insincere smile as he turned his head.
“But then—”
Thales hastened to his side, growling,
“At the National Conference, if I hadn’t stirred things up with Zayen…”[18]
“We had a backup plan.”
“In Dragon Clouds City, if I hadn’t gone back and foiled Lampard’s plans…”
“We also had a backup plan.”
“The Great Desert…”
“Within expectations.”
“The Blade Fang Camp…”
“Couldn’t be more unhelpful.”
Thales struggled to get it out in one breath and said grumpily,
“Really?”
Raphael shrugged, “The Secret Department of the Kingdom is presented as the most confidential place in Constellation, with thorough plans for anything—including you, and the Prince’s Ass being one of them.”
Thales took a deep breath and reminded himself not to lose his cool when he heard that term.
“Alright, let’s take the most extreme case as an example…”
“Going back six years ago, as you now carry out ‘Dragon’s Blood’, do you all think it can lead to situations such as the Charletons, the Shadow Shield, the Secret Room, and Chapman Lampard spiralling out of control?”
Raphael turned his head to look at him.
“Absolutely,”
“All has been considered.”
After a brief moment of surprise, Thales maintained a stiff upper lip,[19]
“You people in the Secret Department… are actually quite daring to say that?”
With a hushed tone and a head shake, Raphael said,
“That’s the way things are.”
“The authority and abilities of the Secret Department, as well as the relationship and balance of power between the two nations, have already predetermined how the ‘Dragon’s Blood’ operation will turn out.”[20]
“However, most importantly, no matter how things progress, they remain within reasonable bounds and will not surpassed our expectations.”
“Even if there are any unexpected developments, they will fall within the range of the contingency plan.”
Thales let out a snort of contempt.
“Is that so?”
Thales drew in a deep breath and thought back to his conversation with the Black Prophet about the ramifications of power.
“Chapman claims the throne; his aspirations are greater than Nuven’s.”
“The Northland is in a state of ruin; the degree of chaos is far above what was anticipated.”
“The prince has been taken as a prisoner; the continuity of the royal line is in doubt.”[21]
“Are these also part of the plan?”
They walked on.
“This has already been discussed, right? No matter who prevails—Lampard or Nuven—or if both sides massacre one another,” Raphael said with a shrug,
“The Dragon’s Blood will tear Eckstedt apart and render it incapable of coming together, just as it is now.”
“As for Lampard’s desire for power, the situation in the North, and even your whereabouts…”
“They are all part of the plan.”
‘Sure thing.’
Thales’ cold laughter echoed as he folded his arms,
“And the Calamity?”
“What will happen if the Queen of the Sky fails to appear and the blood-red giant tentacles in Dragon Clouds City lose control?”
Raphael paused for a brief period of time.
“Rest assured, we have a contingency plan.”
The Barren Bone man said in a flat tone,
“Even if the dragon doesn’t appear, we have a trustworthy way to keep the blood Calamity entirely under control.”
Thales smirked with irony as he recalled the strength of the Mystic Giza.
‘Is that so?’
‘I seriously doubt it.’
“What’s going to happen now that the Red Witch has exposed your plan and you’ve been turned into a pawn in someone else’s game? How do you plan to fall back?”[22]
“Since we need to go to Dragon Clouds City, it’s a given that we’ll have to confront the Secret Room,” Raphael said matter-of-factly.
“We were prepared for the possibility of them standing in our way.”
“You come out safe and sound, don’t you?”
Thales curled his lips and shook his head.
‘You’re talking big, aren’t you?’
“What will happen when King Chapman enters the Heroic Spirit Palace, gathers the Archdukes, and orders the army to march south to swoop down on the Kingdom of Constellation?”
The prince said with a frosty tone,
“Don’t tell me that was also taken into account?”
“Do you have a backup plan for that as well?”
Raphael replied with only an affirmation, not bothering to elaborate,
“Of course.”
Thales disdainfully shook his head and sneered,
“Ah, I see. The backup plan is nothing more than a chimney big enough for a little boy to sneak back into the Heroic Spirit Palace.…”
Raphael’s pace suddenly came to a halt!
He stopped in his tracks.
Thales whirled around in confusion.
“This is supposed to be strictly confidential, but, Your Highness, given your reservations…”
The prince suddenly noticed the very solemn expression on the Barren Bone man’s face.
“Let me try to put this into words.”
Raphael was staring at him with piercing red eyes,
“Do you believe that if Lampard had been successful in pinning King Nuven’s murder on you and persuading the Archdukes to march south, we would have had no way of countering his actions?”
A way of countering…
There was a subtle hint of frustration on Thales’ face.
“For the past six years, you’ve been under the impression that you’ve been saving the world by yourself, but that’s not the whole story.”
A small change in emotion could be seen on the prince’s face.
Raphael’s speech was cryptic, hinting at a deeper meaning,
“What led you to believe that on that day in the Heroic Spirit Palace…”
“The party ally who collaborated with us through a secret agreement…”
In a quiet, hushed voice, Raphael said,
“Was only one of them, Lampard?”[23]
There was a conclusion to the conversation.
At that point, time seemed to stand still.
Thales was completely stupefied.
Only one of them, Lampard…
‘What…'
‘Did it imply?’
Raphael stood motionless in the quiet corridor, staring at the stunned Thales,
“I apologise if my words come across as impolite, Your Highness.”
“But though your first choice was quite daring.”
In the portrait, ‘Eastern Beauty’, Elva looked at them quietly.
“You’re, however, only one of the game’s many backup pieces… ”
Raphael’s intense expression matched the tone of his voice.
“One of many.”[24]
Thales was in a state of numbness for some time.
One of many?
The chaotic, bloody incident that had taken place in Dragon Clouds City six years earlier was brought back to Thales’ mind, and the memory was so clear that he felt as though he were there again.
The Calamity’s arrival, Nuven’s demise, Black Sands advancing on the city, the Archdukes’ alliance, the march to the south, the Archduchess, King Chapman…
‘But…’
His mind was filled with memories from the past.
Its weight caused him to stumble.
Dragon Clouds City, Heroic Spirit Palace.
Past experiences and memories that had been beautifully painted onto canvas were just torn apart by Raphael’s words.
‘But…’
‘No.’
One of them.
‘No!’
Raphael watched the prince’s troubled expression with a satisfied smile, then turned away.
Yet, right then and there.
“Byrael.”
The Barren Bone man gave a peculiar glance behind him.
“Anker Byrael, that assassin from last night.”
Only to observe Thales slowly raising his head, sporting a bewildered expression and soft muttering,
“Raphael, I want to see him.”
The prince’s brows knitted together, with a tinge of urgency,
“Immediately.”
[1] ‘Distressed’ ‘心烦意乱’, ‘heart distracted, thoughts in turmoil’ (idiom); distraught with anxiety.
[2] ‘Older man, blame my creativity with words here, I couldn’t do better than this… anyway, '老家伙’ It’s not necessarily an insult, but implies that the person being referred to is older and perhaps a bit out of touch or outdated. Should I put geezer, old fart...? I wanna put old fart.
[3] ‘泰尔斯……王子？’ , ‘Thales…wángzǐ?’ The way that Morat said it could be better understood as ‘Thales.. Prince?’
[4] ‘Go to great lengths…’, ‘千方百计’, (idiom) ‘thousand ways, a hundred plans’.
[5] ‘一如既往’, ‘just as in the past’ (idiom); as before; continuing as always.
[6] ‘doing our own thing ‘ ,各行其是, (idiom) 'each one does what he thinks is right’.
[7] It can also be ‘The power of authority’, The influence or ability to control and make decisions that come with having authority or control. ‘权力的威能’.
[8] The italic part was in English in the raws.
[9] ‘to think outside the box’, ‘挖空心思’, (idiom) ‘to dig for thoughts’, to rack one’s brains.
[10] ‘in trying times’, ‘赴汤蹈火’ , (idiom) ‘ jump into scalding water and plunge into raging fire’, to go to any lengths (for a noble cause).
[11] ‘start a trend’, ‘上行下效’, ‘subordinates follow the example of their superiors’ (idiom), If a leader sets a bad example, it will be followed by his subordinates.
[12] ‘Tragic outcome ‘, lit. ‘赶走那艘催命的摆渡船’, drive away the ferry that is (idiom) pressing you to death.
[13] ‘Stirring up waves and breaking the surf’, what Morat said was ‘弄潮破浪’ as in ‘乘风破浪’ , ‘to brave the wind and the billows’ (idiom); to have high ambitions.
[14] ‘君子役物，小人役于物’, this is a quote from Confucius it suggests that a true gentleman is able to use things to his advantage, while a small man is controlled by them.
[15] ‘Look, look, look. What the f*ck are you looking at, dickhead’ – Princess Theodora.
[16] ‘倒是你…’ It is a way to change the topic from concentrating on the speaker to the listener, and sounds like blaming the listener to some extent. ‘Same goes for you…, how about you…, and you…’
[17] ‘擦屁股’ (lit.) to wipe one’s ass, to clear up sb else’s mess.
[18] Remembering that in Chinese, first is the name then the ‘title’, so it could be ‘Duke (Zayen)…’ there, but I kinda doubt that.
[19] ‘to keep a stiff upper lip’, ‘气笑’ is used to describe a situation where someone is able to maintain their composure and appear calm and composed despite being inwardly angry or upset.
[20] Behold the tense change! And if it looks awkward, isn’t more than me trying to figure out which tense should I stick with. They’ll from here and-a-bit on talk as if they were in past.
[21] It could be ‘the line of succession is in doubt ‘ but I don’t think that is his point here.
[22] ‘Pawn in someone else’s game’, ‘壳生蛋’ (lit. shell gives birth to eggs) is a Chinese idiomatic expression which means ‘to use someone else’s resources or identity for one’s own gain’.
[23] Maybe I kinda force this one, because of the keywords, but it seemed right this way, anyway ‘只有伦巴一个’ direct translation ‘only Lampard alone’.
[24] ‘其中一枚’ means ‘one of them’ being specific and ‘one of many’ when isn’t. Along the chapter there was phrases used in the same way, to indicate that the person or thing being referred to is one of many.
