ARC: Curse of the Royal Tribulation
Chapter 83: It runs strong in the family
“Why?” Raphael asked with a cold and hostile tone.
Thales stood in front of the portrait of Noah Almond, “Lone Sail,” with a resolute expression on his face.
He clenched his teeth and said, “There’s no reason, I just want to meet him.”
“I don’t believe…” Raphael started to speak, shaking his head.
But Thales interrupted him, speaking firmly as he tried to organise his thoughts. “I know he’s here. He was brought here after the banquet.”
Under the watchful gaze of the former heads of intelligence, whose portraits adorned the walls of the Secret Department hallway, Raphael fixed his gaze on Thales.
“What do you hope to achieve?” he asked.
“Nothing much,” Thales answered, grounding himself. “But he’s one of my responsibilities, and I have to see him.”[1]
“As soon as possible.”
Raphael frowned, frustrated by Thales’ determination. “I need to seek permission from His Lordship first. Tomorrow, I’ll…”
Thales’ anger rose.
“You’ve been stalling me all day,” he snapped. “Shouldn’t you be of a purpose, even just for the sake of the past?”
Raphael’s lips thinned into a tight line, unwilling to reply.
Suddenly, a voice spoke up,
“If you truly wish to see him, Your Highness, it can be arranged.”
Both of them turned to face the speaker.
It was an old acquaintance who was leaning on a cane and standing respectfully in front of the portrait of ‘Pale Baron’ Sancho Doyle.
“Norb?” Raphael asked in surprise and bewilderment.
“Why are you here?”
Norb, the head of the Secret Department in the Western Desert, stood silently, his gaze fixed steadily on Thales.
The prince gave Raphael a quick look, then turned to Norb.
“Norb, are you serious? Can you really bring me to see Anker Byrael?”
“Yes, I have the authority,” Norb said, nodding and bowing respectfully.
“If you would, please follow me.”
Prince Thales took a deep breath and stepped forward, but Raphael quickly grabbed his shoulder and warned,
“Hold on.” With a menacing expression, he said, “Norb, this isn’t of your concern. Don’t get involved in my case.”
Thales protested indignantly, “Hey…”
But Norb tapped his cane, a signal for the prince to calm down.
“Listen, Raphael,” Norb said calmly.
“Anker Byrael is a noble from the Western Desert, and I’ve spent a lot of time there. My experience could be valuable in this matter…”
Raphael was quick to reject the offer. “I don’t need your help.”
But this time, Norb was not so easily deterred. “His Lordship doesn’t share that sentiment,” he said coolly.
“In fact, he has assigned me to interview and investigate Anker Byrael before presenting him in court.”
Baffled, Raphael asked,
“When?”
“Just now,” Norb replied, his voice steady. “And I believe that allowing the prince to see Anker may be beneficial to the case.”
Raphael’s forehead creased as he looked at Norb, who met his gaze with a relaxed and nonchalant expression.
“Your Highness,” Norb said, gesturing with a gentle hand,
“Shall we go?”
Thales glanced at Raphael, then confidently stepped forward.
“To be honest…” Thales sneered as he walked past Raphael, his voice dripping with sarcasm, “What do you bring to the table, Kohen Karabeyan?”
Raphael stood still, his expression as frozen as ice.[2]
Norb gave a small smile and stepped ahead to take the lead.
“If it’s all right with you, Raphael, feel free to join us,” he said, reverting to his friendly and unassuming demeanour.
Raphael remained tight-lipped, his face devoid of emotion.
The silhouettes of the prince and Norb gradually faded into the distance.
The Barren Bone man cast a cold gaze at the portrait of the ‘Black Messenger’, Mason Jonveled, before quickly following after them.
Thales soon realised that their destination was not as straightforward as he thought.
They followed a twisting path and descended down unstable stone stairs in a discreet, out-of-the-way corner.
The underground passageway overseen by the Secret Department was vastly different from the above-ground one in terms of security. With numerous locks and Rudo police dogs trained for sniffing on patrol, the journey was slow and challenging for Thales, even with the help of Raphael and Norb, who were guiding the way.
“These are standard security procedures,” Norb explained calmly as they were being searched by a guard. “Given your presence, it’s even more important to follow them.”
Thales put on a strained smile, locking eyes with the Rudo dog that was nuzzling him. The dog let out a whimper and backed away.
The guards then opened a large, iron gate, leading them into a dark, foul-smelling hallway. From the shadows on both sides, the sounds of unrest could be heard,
“Here we go again—could you show some consideration for those trying to catch some z’s?! Have we not already lost the fortress and the northern border, and now you’re taking away my diplomat’s dignity too?!”
“Your Highness! Prince Midier! Your legs, are they better? That’s great news! I knew that the schemes of those small-minded usurpers wouldn’t succeed… No, Your Highness, you must stop the king; he cannot marry that woman…”
“He is here, with devilish whispers in his wake, he is here, with ominous plans from the gods, he is here, bringing the most merciless fate to the mortal realm…”
“They have been planning for a long time, secretly working with the traitorous forces to overthrow the Duke and take over the throne, storming into the Eternal Star City and causing a change in power. All of them, yes, all of them must have been in on it, working together to assassinate the Duke. Glory to the Starlight! Glory to the Starlight! May the glory of Starlight live on! Someone, someone must bear the consequences…”
“Damned scoundrel! I knew there was something wrong with that battle at the altar! Fucking conqueror of the damn Desert God’s altar! Fucking bullshit!”
“It’s the Crown Princess; the Crown Princess Saoirse must be the one. Listen! She has relatives who live in Vine City, where herbal medicine is highly regarded and used. And those shady members of the Fragrance Trade Association who have been against Prince Bancroft’s policies for a long time collaborate with the Blood Bottle Gang to cause chaos…”[3]
The darkness obscured the shapes of those in the cells on either side, but the cries and sobs blended into a disturbing jumble that left Thales uneasy.
“This is the specially designated prison of the Secret Department,” Norb disregarded the gloomy atmosphere and kept his composure, his expression unchanging. “It’s a bit shadowy and intricate; please bear with us.”
Thales cleared his throat gently, “These people…”
Raphael took over, “They have already been convicted by the court.”[4]
“They were meant to spend the rest of their lives in the Prison of Bones,” he added.
“But some people have special identities; some still have value; and some can’t serve their sentences anywhere but the Secret Department of the Kingdom.”
“If Stake had made it out alive from the Blade Fangs Camp, he would have been brought here,” Norb sighed.
Raphael gave him a piercing gaze and said, “As Your Highness can see, many people here have become unstable—there are forces within them that are weakening their willpower.”[5]
Norb shook his head, “They are simply trapped in the past, unable to escape its grip.”
Raphael’s look towards him grew more and more hostile.
Trapped in the past.
Thales’ face darkened as images of the enigmatic ‘Black Track’ in the heart of the mountains in Dragon Clouds City came flooding back to him.
“I still remember,” Norb said with a hint of nostalgia, “that Lord Hansen once told us—the ability to forget is the greatest form of happiness.”
Raphael chuckled softly, “I don’t recall him ever saying something like that.”
Norb quirked the corner of his lip and said, "That was thirty years ago."
Thirty years.
Uncannily, Raphael fell into silence.
Thales couldn’t resist asking, “So, what is your age this year?”
In the midst of unceasing cries, Norb respectfully inclined his head, “Fourty-two.”
Thales made a face but said nothing.
Once again, they passed through an iron gate, muffling the wails from their ears. Before them was a series of heavily guarded and enclosed cells, each with only a tiny peephole in the door connecting to the outside world.
Thales was stopped there.
“I knew you would come,” a deep voice echoed from behind a cell. Thales felt a sense of familiarity with it,
“I just didn’t think it would be so soon.”
The prince furrowed his brow and turned around to see an aged, time-worn face at the small gate.
“Just a side note, boy,” spoke the man, rugged and unkempt yet with unwavering determination. He gripped the iron bars at the food flap and locked his eyes on Thales. “That wine from last night was beyond atrocious. I’m still battling its effects even now.”
Raphael and Norb exchanged glances, as if they wanted to say something but ultimately chose to remain silent.
Thales was quiet for a moment before letting out a chilly hum, “It’s certainly no match for the wine here,”
“Your Grace, Duke Arunde,” the prince moved forward, leaving Val Arunde behind as he continued on his way, with Norb closely following.
“I told you, he’s going to be a big trouble,” said the imprisoned Duke of the Northern Territory, silently watching Thales’ figure, “Bigger than you, Barren boy.”
Upon hearing the address, Raphael, who had been lagging behind, stopped in his tracks and shot a complex gaze towards Val, behind the iron gate.
“From now on, Your Grace, make sure to eat more greens,” Raphael fixed his eyes on him for a spell before speaking in a measured tone,
“And don’t just drink.”
With that, the Barren Bone man spun on his heel and took his leave.
“Wait a minute.”
Raphael turned back.
Val leaned against the iron gate, remaining silent for a few moments before slowly extending a neatly folded letter.
Raphael furrowed his brow. “You know, she won’t respond to your letter.”
Val’s eyes lost their brightness.
“I know,”
The Duke’s gaze landed on Raphael’s hands. Raphael instinctively moved them behind his back.
“But at least this will allow you to see her, child.” Val spoke absentmindedly.
Raphael gave him a long, thoughtful look.
He approached the gate, took the letter from him, and carefully stowed it. “Alright.”
Val barely managed a smile.
“Thank you.”
But the next second, the expression on the face of the Barren Bone man became emotionless again. “But we only use crows.”[6]
With those words spoken, Raphael roughly lifted the flap, leaving Val’s face shrouded in darkness.
With Norb leading the way, Thales finally reached his destination, a spacious room.
“A pretty young girl, kind and fair,
Fate dealt her a hand, without a care.
Her life not so bright, without a mum to hold tight…”
However, before they even set foot inside, a discordant tune filled their ears,
“An old lecher came, drunk with desire,
To grope and grab, by the bed’s fire.
But the girl’s eyes, with a quick flick,
And on the stove, a meat broth trick…”
The sound of a man singing could be heard, and it was full of pride and energy.[7]
“My apologies, Your Highness,” Norb said, feeling uncomfortable. “That’s one of my men. I sent him ahead to scope out the situation.”
Thales nodded, and they stepped into the room, following the singing voice. The room was dark, damp, and had a heavy and oppressive atmosphere.
The first thing that Thales noticed was a collection of frightening tools: blood-soaked beds, torture racks, head crushers, stretching wheels, skinning beds, spike chairs…
This part of the scene was familiar to Thales, as he had seen similar setups in the Black Gold Casino on Black Street when he was a young boy.
There were even more small tools and instruments on the many carts than Thales could count.
He felt a deep sense of unease.
A plump man appeared in the centre of the room, with his back facing the door. He was shirtless and dressed in an apron, gloves, and a mask, humming a tune and swaying his shoulders as he rhythmically arranged the tools on the cart.
“With tongs in hand, she twists and turns,
The lecher wakes, with pain he yearns.
But she just smiles, with food she’ll cook,
And grill a skewer, in nine rounds took.
With knife and stick, she blends and blends,
Peels the skin, and opens ends.
A small scoop, she prepares with care,
For food that’s good, beyond compare…”
Anker Byrael, the notorious royal’s party crasher, was lying unconscious, naked, and bound on the central recliner. He was covered in wounds, and a bloodstained blanket was barely covering his lower half.
Thales felt a tightness in his chest as he looked at the bloodstains on the chair beneath Anker.
Perhaps it was the soundproofing effect of the headgear, but the chubby man humming was oblivious to the commotion behind him. He swung his hips, brandishing a hammer in one hand and a pair of pliers in the other, completely lost in his frenzied dance and song,
“The lecher cries, ‘Oh girl, be calm,
Last night you smiled, now you cause harm.
Why this outburst, what’s come over you?’
The girl smiles back, with a cunning view.
‘My dear sir, you have made a mistake,
I’m not a girl, but a monster at stake.
And now for dinner, I’ll have my feast,
How does the meat broth, taste at least?’”
In the grim and eerie prison cell stained with blood, the portly man was performing an energetic and unusual dance. Norb, taken aback by the strange spectacle, felt the need to break the silence and awkwardly cleared his throat, calling out the man’s name, “Gamus.”
However, it seemed the portly man did not hear Norb’s call as he continued to sway his hips and wave his waist, with his hammer dangerously swinging past the rear ends of the three onlookers who stood in front of each other.
Frustrated, Norb raised his voice and shouted, “Gamus!”
With two resounding clangs, the hammer and pliers both hit the ground, and the plump man froze in place, hands still behind him, as the singing abruptly ceased. The room became still and quiet.
The plump man named Gamus unsteadily removed his hood, clumsily spun around, and upon seeing Thales, he was momentarily startled, “Whoa!”
Gamus let out a sigh, wiping away the sweat from his face after his energetic dance. He queried, “Where did you come from, you little brat? Don’t you realise it’s inappropriate to startle people in such a manner?”
Norb stepped out of the shadows, “Gamus,”
“This is Prince Thales.”
Gamus froze.
A few seconds went by, and the overweight man grumbled, “Oh, Norb, you’re early. Nice outfit! I was just getting a workout, hehe.” He tried to play it off, but upon realising the other person’s words, his demeanour changed abruptly,
“Ah? Did you just say, the, the, the Prince?”
He looked at Thales with wide-eyed surprise and tried to hide his flabby chest with his apron, speaking in excitement, “Ahh! Prince Thales! I’m the one from the Western Desert, you know… the one… do you still remember me? That one!”
Unfortunately, his appearance, with a bare chest covered in sweat, blood, and dirt, made it difficult for him to make a good impression. Thales could only offer a polite smile in response.
“Wake up the prisoner,” Norb said, feeling embarrassed and covering his face in helplessness.
Gamus let out a chuckle and said, “Sure thing.” He then eagerly grabbed a bloodstained pair of pliers and made his way towards Anker, who was lying on a recliner.[8]
Thales’ expression changed abruptly.
“Hold on,” Norb interjected, giving Thales a quick look, “Let’s be more gentle.”
With a sheepish expression, Gamus set down the pliers and picked up a bucket of ice-cold water. He then drenched Anker, who was lying in a chair, with the freezing water, causing the latter to jolt upright as if waking from a nightmare and cough repeatedly while softly calling out “Tina…”
With agony, he expelled the water from his mouth and gazed around, dazed and weak. It wasn’t until he spotted the bindings on his limbs that he understood he was still trapped in a nightmare.
“Weren’t we supposed to… take a short break…?”
Anker stumbled back into the reclining chair, struggling to catch his breath. “It’s the middle of… the night… I’m not tired… are you all… not tired too?”
Thales gazed at the grisly sight of his nails, the blue and swollen joints stained with blood, and the dulling gaze of his eyes, feeling his own breathing become labored.
“Hey, buddy, snap out of it!”
Gamus violently smacked Anker’s face, pulling open the eyelids that had been closed, and saying, “Someone is here to see you!”
Thales let out a deep sigh and walked up to Byrael.
“Anker Byrael. It’s me.”
Anker’s eyes looked bewildered at first, but then they gradually came into focus. He groaned as he tried to sit up and take a closer look at the young man in front of him.
“Your Highness?” he asked, finally recognising him. “Prince Thales?”
Anker’s breathing accelerated, his chest heaving, as he managed a frail smile,
“How are you faring today,”
“Your Highness?”
He was shaking all over; the blanket he was wrapped in was stained with blood, and each time it brushed against his wounds, he would cry out in pain, and beads of sweat would form on his brow. Thales fought back his urge to be sick and helped Anker readjust the blanket, motioning for him to lie back down.
“I’d like to speak with him privately,” the prince said to those behind him, his voice firm. “Right now.”
Raphael and Norb exchanged a glance.
With a subtle gaze, Norb signalled to Gamus, who reluctantly produced a standard water bag used by the Western Desert army.
“Open wide, buddy.”
Gamus held the water bag up to Anker’s lips and said, “This is my specially brewed Chaca wine; it’s a medical painkiller to help you feel better—damn it, don’t drink too much; it’s expensive!”
Amidst Gamus’s distressed cries, Anker let go of the bag, leaned back on the chair, and erupted into fits of laughter.
Raphael was about to say something, but Norb patted his shoulder and led a dejected Gamus away.
The three of them then left the prison cell, leaving only Thales and Anker alone.
“It’s no use, Your Highness.”
Anker, who was shackled, struggled to turn his head towards Thales and spoke in a halting manner,
“This is the Secret Department, Your Highness. You go, they come back, make me repeat everything I told you.”
Thales gazed at Anker, who was scarred by his ordeals, and tried to avoid looking at his wounds.
“I know,” the prince said, feeling a heavy weight in his heart.
“I just want you to be at ease.”
Anker stared back at him quietly, wearing a tired smile on his face.
“You are a good person, Your Highness.”
“But, Your Highness, with your kindness and generosity, have you found a way not to be a chess piece?”[9]
Thales hesitated, a glimmer in his eyes.
“How are you different from them?”
“It’s just that I, I understand… other chess pieces.”[10]
‘This man…’
‘He chose to trust me, and in doing so, he laid down that sword.’
‘But what can I do to repay that trust?’
As Thales thought about their conversation in the Ballard Room, he pressed his lips together, as if he were about to say something but then changed his mind.
“I understand.”
Anker caught a glimpse of the prince’s expression and, with a deep breath, realised what was troubling him. “I apologise for being a burden,” he said.
“Yesterday, as well as today.”
Thales inhaled deeply, striving to quell his pessimistic feelings.
“No, the case has not reached a verdict yet, and there is still an opportunity for a positive outcome.”
Anker leaned back in his chair with a disgruntled expression, gritting his teeth.
“Your Highness, there’s no need to attempt to comfort me,” he said.
“The Byrael family has already reached rock bottom and has nothing left to its name.”[11]
“I made sure,” he paused, his face twisting in irony, “to educate myself on the kingdom’s laws before coming here.
“Carrying a weapon to commit murder against the royal family, is undoubtedly a capital offense.” He took a deep breath before continuing. “And let’s not forget the rest. I caused trouble between the Western Desert and the royal family. I separated the Seven Attendants from the Renaissance Palace. I drove a wedge between you and His Majesty. And I even embroiled many unsavoury secrets in the ‘Land Assessment Order.’ It’s a thorny and troubling matter.”
“All parties, with a vested interest, would be delighted, to disrupt the proceedings.”[12]
Anker fixed his gaze on the ceiling, his eyes wandering in the dim light. He spoke with a defeated tone, “There’s no hope for me.”
Thales clenched his teeth as he went to his chair, which felt more like a death row seat.
The Duke of Star Lake remembered the words of the Black Prophet and tried to put on a smile.
“I can handle the situation with the royal family,”
“As for Duke Doyle, I will have a ‘little chat’ with him to persuade him to act with more empathy.”
The prince made an effort to make his words sound more refined and less dull, at the very least. “With mutual understanding, the debt between your families can be resolved amicably. And with regards to the land dispute between Crow Caw City and Mirror River…”
“No, Your Highness.”
Anker interrupted him.
The young noble from the Western Desert gazed at Thales with a combination of gentleness and despair, and with a wry smile, he weakly but firmly shook his head.
“It’s clear to us all that this has long since stopped being just about Crow Caw City and Mirror River.”
Thales stumbled over his words and was momentarily at a loss for what to say, unable to continue his speech.
“Your Highness, do you have an understanding of the current situation in the Western Desert?” Anker asked, lying on the chair and looking at the prince with distant eyes, as if gazing far beyond the River of Hell.
“After the Desert War, the Blade Fangs Dune and the Royal Family’s regular army became a dominant force in the Western Desert, like a sharpened blade piercing straight to its core.”
“By retaining military control over the Western Frontline, they regulate the egoistic, exclusivist, and conservative suzerains of the Western Desert, serving as the strongest argument for the Renaissance Palace to promote the monarchy in the western region. The ‘Land Assessment Order’ and the ‘Opening of Border Counties Order’ have left the suzerains feeling so powerless and frustrated that all they can do is grind their teeth in anger.”
Thales frowned unconsciously as memories of Blessing Town and the journey back to Eternal Star City from the Western Desert resurfaced. Count Derek Kroma of Wing Fort had told him about the dire situation in the Western Desert.
“Yes, in order to save my father’s mess, find a turning point for the family, and exploit a contract loophole, I know almost by heart all official letters and replies from the Western Desert and Central Territory in the last ten years.”
Anker’s face flushed with colour as he offered a smile.
His breathing became more steady, and the grunts and moans diminished, with less interruption between his words as the wine from Gamus began to take effect.
“However, as the decade passed by, the cunning, practical, and indolent suzerains of the Western Desert found the most shrewd means of responding.”
The most shrewd response?
Thales was flabbergasted.
Anker’s mood improved slightly as he thought deeply. He declared with newfound energy, “They pay lip service to being sincere and compliant, allowing military rule in the Blade Fang Camp to become the norm. Meanwhile, they deliberately fan the flames, causing the wrath of lower-level nobles to reach new heights.”
“As time passed, royal edicts that were not conveyed through war regulations became invalid, and mandates without the support of the kingdom’s regular army were hard to enforce. The Renaissance Palace was only respected if the Legendary Wing was present in person.
Conflicts, such as the one between my family and the Doyles, only grew deeper with time and became harder to resolve… “
Anker’s gaze sharpened, as if he were aware of his limited time, and he continued speaking,
“This has turned the Desert Frontline into a symbol of protection for the suzerains of the Western Desert. They hope to get used to this blade, become one with it, and use it as a double-edged blade for the King, just like my father tenaciously held onto his overwhelming debt, leaving the creditors at a loss, hahaha…”
Pay lip service to being sincere and compliant, fan the flames, tenaciously held onto…[13]
Thales took a deep breath.
He thought back to what Gilbert had told him about the ‘Divided Western Desert’.
But Anker quickly shifted gears, “So, this blade that has been thrust into the heart of the Western Desert has exceeded both sides’ expectations and led to the most awkward stalemate.”
Anker inhaled deeply and savoured the temporary numbness brought by the drink, “The Western Desert is in a state of distress,” he said. “This blade, stuck in a vital spot, has always been their bane, but they must bear the pain and turn it into a part of themselves, a shield.”
“The Renaissance Palace is feeling the strain: Despite the significant resources they have invested, this hand holding the blade is unable to make any decisive moves. Advancing would only lead to chaos and more losses than gains, while retreating would mean wasting their previous efforts with no reward.”
Thales’ gaze shifted as he pictured a stark black and white checkered board. On one end was his father’s impressive Constellation Staff, and on the other was Fakenhaz’s humble wooden cane.
“Both sides are waiting patiently, eager for an opportunity to arise,” Anker said. “It could be a foreign war, a crisis, or a major event. The people of the Western Desert are waiting for a change in the state of affairs, while the Renaissance Palace is waiting for a favourable chance to further their cause.”
Thales nodded, understanding. He wiped away the blood that was blocking Anker’s vision. “I’m aware of the situation,” Thales said. “Events like my return, the ownership of the Blade Fangs Camp, and the incursion of the Barren Bone people and mixed breeds have become points of contention between both sides. They’re playing a game of cat and mouse, countering each other’s moves.”
“Like…”
Thales fell silent and gazed intently at Anker.
Anker tried to smile, but it was strained, and he gave a feeble nod in response,
“I came to the conclusion that the only way for the hopeless Byrael family to save itself was to seize this opportunity.”
“To make my family’s situation the centre of attention by taking advantage of this widely watched carriage.”
Thales lowered his head and let out a deep sigh.
“So, I must die. It would be best if I went out in a blaze of glory, dying at the banquet in a duel like a hero. That way, I can leave something behind to protect my family and maintain our property, lands, and noble status.”
Anker straightened his posture, ignoring the gash in his side. His breathing quickened and his voice grew sharp, as if he were back in the sword duel from the day before.[14]
“Until…”
“Until you…”
Anker gazed at the prince, feeling helpless and lost, almost pleading for something.
Thales’s hand, which was resting on the armchair, trembled slightly.
“So…”
Anker realised, and he leaned back into his chair, dejected.
“No one can save me, Your Highness.”
“Especially not if you are…”
“You.”
Thales was left at a loss for words.
He was right.
He couldn’t save him.
Even his father’s questions in the Ballard Room were too much for him to handle.
For a while, there was complete silence in the prison cell.[15]
“I’m sorry,” Thales spoke with difficulty, finding his words to be harsh and unfulfilling.
“No.”
Anker turned his head away and curled up his lips.
His eyes were filled with darkness.
“Thank you, Your Highness,”
“Thank you for being a witness to the unjust cries of others, for answering the desperate pleas of those who have reached their limits, and for recognising the pain of others…”
“You didn’t turn a blind eye and walk away.”
“Even if you could.”
“Thank you for your mercy at the banquet.”
Mercy.
Thales couldn’t help but think back to what Zayen had said,
“You smothered his hope with power: regardless of whether he wins or loses in the duel, lives or dies, whether he kills the prince or never gets the case retried, his family will never see the light of day.”
“You took advantage of his humanity and forced him to give up on the duel, even forcing him to drag out an ignoble existence. The extent of your selfishness deprived him the mercy of death.”
“Who’s the ruthless one now?”
The prince quivered slightly.
Anker spoke in a trance,
“Thank you for taking the time to come here, to listen to me—or to hear my final words.”
“Thank you for being as rumored—tolerant, fair-minded, kindhearted, and wise.”
Anker stared at the ceiling, but a smile spread across his face as if he were witnessing a beautiful dreamscape.
“Though there’s no sunlight here… it doesn’t seem so bad, does it?”
Thales couldn’t take it any longer and slammed his hand on the nearby cart. He drew in a deep breath and looked back at Anker, “I promise you, Anker, I will handle the matter concerning your father and the Doyle family…”
“That doesn’t matter anymore,” Anker replied, shaking his head with a blank gaze.
“I know my father well, Your Highness,”
“He’s a damnable scoundrel, self-centered, lavish, arrogant, and thinks he’s always right.”[16]
His face was filled with distaste and disdain.
Thales looked at him with a shocked expression,
“Anker…”
“Marrying him was the greatest misfortune of my mother’s life, but marrying her was the greatest luck of my father’s.”
Anker let out a sarcastic laugh.
“Yes, I made a spectacle of myself at the banquet with my exaggerated and false words. My father’s downfall was solely of his own making,” he said with a remorseful smile, “I’m aware of that, I’ve always been.”
“Even if Doyle’s schemes hadn’t caused him to lose our family’s fortune, he would have eventually fallen into someone else’s grasp, sooner or later.”
“No ill feelings towards anyone.”
“And certainly not toward you.”
Thales remained quiet, only lowering his gaze and grasping Anker’s hand tightly. He felt Anker’s grip tighten in response and listened intently as he continued his monologue.
As it was before, in the past, in the Prison of Bones.
Anker had a far-off look in his eyes as he spoke about his worries, almost like a child. He said, “The truth is, from when I was young until I grew up, my father was skilled in one thing, and that was beating his wife and children. Just like most fathers in the Western Desert.”
At the Tower of Eradication, Teacher Klaudier said I had a good understanding and fast reactions to the enemy’s attacks, declaring me to be perfectly suited for the ‘Rose’ sword style,” Anker said with a hint of disdain, before bursting into laughter,
“My reply to him is that it was a result of the training I received through my family’s teachings.”[17]
“A family teaching…” He chuckled.
“Believe it or not,” Thales whispered,
“Being skilled in taking beatings is also part of the family teachings I’ve received.”
Anker gave him a glance, and they shared a knowing smile,
“Maybe we should have met each other earlier and shared our experiences…”
But as time went by, the young man’s smile from the Western Desert grew increasingly heavy, poignant, and bitter.
Thales listened in silence, as if this was the only thing left for him to do.
Byrael let out a sigh. “I have never had a close relationship with my father, and I have no desire to clean up the mess he made or bear the consequences of his actions.”
Anker shook his head, and his eyes cleared as the uncertainty faded away. “But we don’t have any other choices, do we?” he said. “Especially considering our upbringing.”
Never had a close relationship with my father.
We don’t have any other options.
Especially considering our upbringing.
At that moment, Thales, who was lost in thought, felt a tight grip on his hand, and the Sin of Hell’s River stirred slightly.
“Anker…” Despite the pain, the prince gently patted the back of Anker’s hand, trying to comfort him.
But Anker Byrael only gazed blankly into the emptiness, “However, my younger siblings are innocent, just like our mother was. They shouldn’t be held back by his shadow, like I am. They deserve the chance to see beyond the Western Desert and experience the world, as I once promised them.”
Anker regained his composure with a look of defeat,
“But I no longer see that as a possibility.”
Thales closed his eyes.
His shadow…
He could clearly see a figure sitting at the end of a long table in the Ballard Room and a throne at the end of a hallway in the assembly hall.
“They will be okay,” the prince said as he opened his eyes and tried to comfort Anker. “Your younger siblings, I swear… I will do everything I can.”
Anker gave him a hesitant nod. “It’s unrealistic to expect the Byrael to keep the lands and the status of nobility enough to provide them with a comfortable life…”
Anker appeared to recall something and frantically conveyed, “But my mother, she deposited a considerable amount of money at the Princely Bank before she passed away. The proof of this is in the possession of our maid, Tina.”
He then added, “That might be enough to support my younger siblings until they reach adulthood, but I’m not sure. I had no idea that the prices here in the capital would be this high before I arrived.”
Anker wore a forced, wry grin on his face.
“Please keep this matter confidential and don’t let anyone else know, especially my father’s creditors. There are more than just the Doyles after us, especially since our land in Crow’s Caw was taken back.”
Thales breathed out and tried to sound calm and confident. “I’ll make sure it’s taken care of. In the Western Wastelands, Duke Fakenhaz will give me his support, and Derek Kroma of Wing Fort is also a friend of mine.”
The truth was, Thales wasn’t certain about their friendship, but he had to present it as such.
He had to.
However, Thales’ hand started to shake the very next second. He quickly glanced at Anker and saw that he was agitated, with his chest heaving.
“Anker, calm down. Conserve your energy…”
“It’s alright, Your Highness,” Anker managed to say through his sweat-drenched face, forcing a smile.
“Being a chess piece is still my choice.”
Thales gazed at him, emotions welling up within him. But he had a sudden realization.
“You know, Anker,” the prince spoke softly, his voice filled with thoughtfulness. “There’s still something that’s bothering me about this whole chess piece matter.”
Anker turned to look at him, confusion etched on his face.
“Yesterday, Zayen Cavendish, the man behind the conspiracy, told me to come visit you in prison,” Thales said in a serious tone, trying to keep his emotions in check.
Anker’s hands tightened involuntarily.
“He also said that His Majesty would be very pleased,” the Duke of Star Lake added solemnly.
“Why?” The Duke asked,
“Why would he say that, Anker Byrael?”
[1] He meant Anker is one of his messes.
[2] ‘frozen/rigid as ice’ but the expression used here was ‘雪窖’, ‘snow cellar’ I think is from the idiom ‘雪窖冰天’, all covered in [with] ice ad snow, not sure… but I think is easy to get the meaning.
[3] Crown Princess, as in the wife of the Crown Prince.
[4] ‘disgarding the atmosphere…’, ‘充耳不闻’, ‘to block one’s ears and not listen’ (idiom); to turn a deaf ear.
[5] ‘there are forces at work within…’ ,’心中有鬼’, (idiom) ‘have ulterior motives’; have something to hide. Btw, it could be ‘As you can see…’, but even if the glaring eyes were to Norb, the words, as he used the ‘formal you’, were to Thales.
[6] Messenger crows.
[7] ‘full of pride…’, ‘洋洋得意’; ‘immensely pleased with oneself’ (idiom).
[8] ‘eager’, ‘兴致勃勃’, ‘to become exhilarated’ (idiom); in high spirits.
[9] 棋子’, chess piece, pawn… it’s because I feel like I’ll translate or already translated this as a ‘pawn’ .
[10] This insert as others in this chapter are from the original translation.
[11] ‘nothing left…’, ‘家徒四壁’ (idiom) ‘have nothing but the bare walls in one’s house’—be utterly destitute.
[12] ‘would be delighted to disrupt the proceedings’, ‘落井下石’, (idiom) ‘drop stones on someone who has fallen into a well—hit a person when they are down.
[13] This all are idioms that I tried to rephrase or replace: ‘虚与委蛇’, ‘to feign civility’ (idiom), pretend politeness and compliance; ‘煽风点火’, fan the flames, agitate people, stir up trouble; ‘死皮赖脸’, ‘Brazenly clinging to a dead skin’, idiomatic expression that means to persist stubbornly or shamelessly in a course of action or demand, even in the face of opposition or rejection.
[14] ‘sword duel’, ‘刀光剑影’; ‘glint and flash of daggers and swords’ (idiom) .
[15] ‘prison cell, 刑房, can be translated also as ‘torture chamber ‘.
[16] For the adjectives here: self-centered, ‘刚愎自用’ obstinate and self-opinionated (idiom); lavish, ‘挥霍无度’ spend without restraint (idiom); arrogant ‘好大喜功’ crave for greatness and success, have a fondness for the grandiose (idiom); and ‘thinks he’s always right’, ‘自以为是’ to believe oneself infallible (idiom).
[17] ‘family’s teachings’; ‘ 家学渊源’, (idiom) ‘The teaching of family history has its roots’, it refers to the idea that a person’s education and knowledge is often rooted in their family background and upbringing. Is this chapter’s title, ‘Knowledge runs in the family’, it’s closest equivalent I could find.
ARC: Curse of the Royal Tribulation
Chapter 83: It runs strong in the family
“Why?” Raphael asked with a cold and hostile tone.
Thales stood in front of the portrait of Noah Almond, “Lone Sail,” with a resolute expression on his face.
He clenched his teeth and said, “There’s no reason, I just want to meet him.”
“I don’t believe…” Raphael started to speak, shaking his head.
But Thales interrupted him, speaking firmly as he tried to organise his thoughts. “I know he’s here. He was brought here after the banquet.”
Under the watchful gaze of the former heads of intelligence, whose portraits adorned the walls of the Secret Department hallway, Raphael fixed his gaze on Thales.
“What do you hope to achieve?” he asked.
“Nothing much,” Thales answered, grounding himself. “But he’s one of my responsibilities, and I have to see him.”[1]
“As soon as possible.”
Raphael frowned, frustrated by Thales’ determination. “I need to seek permission from His Lordship first. Tomorrow, I’ll…”
Thales’ anger rose.
“You’ve been stalling me all day,” he snapped. “Shouldn’t you be of a purpose, even just for the sake of the past?”
Raphael’s lips thinned into a tight line, unwilling to reply.
Suddenly, a voice spoke up,
“If you truly wish to see him, Your Highness, it can be arranged.”
Both of them turned to face the speaker.
It was an old acquaintance who was leaning on a cane and standing respectfully in front of the portrait of ‘Pale Baron’ Sancho Doyle.
“Norb?” Raphael asked in surprise and bewilderment.
“Why are you here?”
Norb, the head of the Secret Department in the Western Desert, stood silently, his gaze fixed steadily on Thales.
The prince gave Raphael a quick look, then turned to Norb.
“Norb, are you serious? Can you really bring me to see Anker Byrael?”
“Yes, I have the authority,” Norb said, nodding and bowing respectfully.
“If you would, please follow me.”
Prince Thales took a deep breath and stepped forward, but Raphael quickly grabbed his shoulder and warned,
“Hold on.” With a menacing expression, he said, “Norb, this isn’t of your concern. Don’t get involved in my case.”
Thales protested indignantly, “Hey…”
But Norb tapped his cane, a signal for the prince to calm down.
“Listen, Raphael,” Norb said calmly.
“Anker Byrael is a noble from the Western Desert, and I’ve spent a lot of time there. My experience could be valuable in this matter…”
Raphael was quick to reject the offer. “I don’t need your help.”
But this time, Norb was not so easily deterred. “His Lordship doesn’t share that sentiment,” he said coolly.
“In fact, he has assigned me to interview and investigate Anker Byrael before presenting him in court.”
Baffled, Raphael asked,
“When?”
“Just now,” Norb replied, his voice steady. “And I believe that allowing the prince to see Anker may be beneficial to the case.”
Raphael’s forehead creased as he looked at Norb, who met his gaze with a relaxed and nonchalant expression.
“Your Highness,” Norb said, gesturing with a gentle hand,
“Shall we go?”
Thales glanced at Raphael, then confidently stepped forward.
“To be honest…” Thales sneered as he walked past Raphael, his voice dripping with sarcasm, “What do you bring to the table, Kohen Karabeyan?”
Raphael stood still, his expression as frozen as ice.[2]
Norb gave a small smile and stepped ahead to take the lead.
“If it’s all right with you, Raphael, feel free to join us,” he said, reverting to his friendly and unassuming demeanour.
Raphael remained tight-lipped, his face devoid of emotion.
The silhouettes of the prince and Norb gradually faded into the distance.
The Barren Bone man cast a cold gaze at the portrait of the ‘Black Messenger’, Mason Jonveled, before quickly following after them.
Thales soon realised that their destination was not as straightforward as he thought.
They followed a twisting path and descended down unstable stone stairs in a discreet, out-of-the-way corner.
The underground passageway overseen by the Secret Department was vastly different from the above-ground one in terms of security. With numerous locks and Rudo police dogs trained for sniffing on patrol, the journey was slow and challenging for Thales, even with the help of Raphael and Norb, who were guiding the way.
“These are standard security procedures,” Norb explained calmly as they were being searched by a guard. “Given your presence, it’s even more important to follow them.”
Thales put on a strained smile, locking eyes with the Rudo dog that was nuzzling him. The dog let out a whimper and backed away.
The guards then opened a large, iron gate, leading them into a dark, foul-smelling hallway. From the shadows on both sides, the sounds of unrest could be heard,
“Here we go again—could you show some consideration for those trying to catch some z’s?! Have we not already lost the fortress and the northern border, and now you’re taking away my diplomat’s dignity too?!”
“Your Highness! Prince Midier! Your legs, are they better? That’s great news! I knew that the schemes of those small-minded usurpers wouldn’t succeed… No, Your Highness, you must stop the king; he cannot marry that woman…”
“He is here, with devilish whispers in his wake, he is here, with ominous plans from the gods, he is here, bringing the most merciless fate to the mortal realm…”
“They have been planning for a long time, secretly working with the traitorous forces to overthrow the Duke and take over the throne, storming into the Eternal Star City and causing a change in power. All of them, yes, all of them must have been in on it, working together to assassinate the Duke. Glory to the Starlight! Glory to the Starlight! May the glory of Starlight live on! Someone, someone must bear the consequences…”
“Damned scoundrel! I knew there was something wrong with that battle at the altar! Fucking conqueror of the damn Desert God’s altar! Fucking bullshit!”
“It’s the Crown Princess; the Crown Princess Saoirse must be the one. Listen! She has relatives who live in Vine City, where herbal medicine is highly regarded and used. And those shady members of the Fragrance Trade Association who have been against Prince Bancroft’s policies for a long time collaborate with the Blood Bottle Gang to cause chaos…”[3]
The darkness obscured the shapes of those in the cells on either side, but the cries and sobs blended into a disturbing jumble that left Thales uneasy.
“This is the specially designated prison of the Secret Department,” Norb disregarded the gloomy atmosphere and kept his composure, his expression unchanging. “It’s a bit shadowy and intricate; please bear with us.”
Thales cleared his throat gently, “These people…”
Raphael took over, “They have already been convicted by the court.”[4]
“They were meant to spend the rest of their lives in the Prison of Bones,” he added.
“But some people have special identities; some still have value; and some can’t serve their sentences anywhere but the Secret Department of the Kingdom.”
“If Stake had made it out alive from the Blade Fangs Camp, he would have been brought here,” Norb sighed.
Raphael gave him a piercing gaze and said, “As Your Highness can see, many people here have become unstable—there are forces within them that are weakening their willpower.”[5]
Norb shook his head, “They are simply trapped in the past, unable to escape its grip.”
Raphael’s look towards him grew more and more hostile.
Trapped in the past.
Thales’ face darkened as images of the enigmatic ‘Black Track’ in the heart of the mountains in Dragon Clouds City came flooding back to him.
“I still remember,” Norb said with a hint of nostalgia, “that Lord Hansen once told us—the ability to forget is the greatest form of happiness.”
Raphael chuckled softly, “I don’t recall him ever saying something like that.”
Norb quirked the corner of his lip and said, "That was thirty years ago."
Thirty years.
Uncannily, Raphael fell into silence.
Thales couldn’t resist asking, “So, what is your age this year?”
In the midst of unceasing cries, Norb respectfully inclined his head, “Fourty-two.”
Thales made a face but said nothing.
Once again, they passed through an iron gate, muffling the wails from their ears. Before them was a series of heavily guarded and enclosed cells, each with only a tiny peephole in the door connecting to the outside world.
Thales was stopped there.
“I knew you would come,” a deep voice echoed from behind a cell. Thales felt a sense of familiarity with it,
“I just didn’t think it would be so soon.”
The prince furrowed his brow and turned around to see an aged, time-worn face at the small gate.
“Just a side note, boy,” spoke the man, rugged and unkempt yet with unwavering determination. He gripped the iron bars at the food flap and locked his eyes on Thales. “That wine from last night was beyond atrocious. I’m still battling its effects even now.”
Raphael and Norb exchanged glances, as if they wanted to say something but ultimately chose to remain silent.
Thales was quiet for a moment before letting out a chilly hum, “It’s certainly no match for the wine here,”
“Your Grace, Duke Arunde,” the prince moved forward, leaving Val Arunde behind as he continued on his way, with Norb closely following.
“I told you, he’s going to be a big trouble,” said the imprisoned Duke of the Northern Territory, silently watching Thales’ figure, “Bigger than you, Barren boy.”
Upon hearing the address, Raphael, who had been lagging behind, stopped in his tracks and shot a complex gaze towards Val, behind the iron gate.
“From now on, Your Grace, make sure to eat more greens,” Raphael fixed his eyes on him for a spell before speaking in a measured tone,
“And don’t just drink.”
With that, the Barren Bone man spun on his heel and took his leave.
“Wait a minute.”
Raphael turned back.
Val leaned against the iron gate, remaining silent for a few moments before slowly extending a neatly folded letter.
Raphael furrowed his brow. “You know, she won’t respond to your letter.”
Val’s eyes lost their brightness.
“I know,”
The Duke’s gaze landed on Raphael’s hands. Raphael instinctively moved them behind his back.
“But at least this will allow you to see her, child.” Val spoke absentmindedly.
Raphael gave him a long, thoughtful look.
He approached the gate, took the letter from him, and carefully stowed it. “Alright.”
Val barely managed a smile.
“Thank you.”
But the next second, the expression on the face of the Barren Bone man became emotionless again. “But we only use crows.”[6]
With those words spoken, Raphael roughly lifted the flap, leaving Val’s face shrouded in darkness.
With Norb leading the way, Thales finally reached his destination, a spacious room.
“A pretty young girl, kind and fair,
Fate dealt her a hand, without a care.
Her life not so bright, without a mum to hold tight…”
However, before they even set foot inside, a discordant tune filled their ears,
“An old lecher came, drunk with desire,
To grope and grab, by the bed’s fire.
But the girl’s eyes, with a quick flick,
And on the stove, a meat broth trick…”
The sound of a man singing could be heard, and it was full of pride and energy.[7]
“My apologies, Your Highness,” Norb said, feeling uncomfortable. “That’s one of my men. I sent him ahead to scope out the situation.”
Thales nodded, and they stepped into the room, following the singing voice. The room was dark, damp, and had a heavy and oppressive atmosphere.
The first thing that Thales noticed was a collection of frightening tools: blood-soaked beds, torture racks, head crushers, stretching wheels, skinning beds, spike chairs…
This part of the scene was familiar to Thales, as he had seen similar setups in the Black Gold Casino on Black Street when he was a young boy.
There were even more small tools and instruments on the many carts than Thales could count.
He felt a deep sense of unease.
A plump man appeared in the centre of the room, with his back facing the door. He was shirtless and dressed in an apron, gloves, and a mask, humming a tune and swaying his shoulders as he rhythmically arranged the tools on the cart.
“With tongs in hand, she twists and turns,
The lecher wakes, with pain he yearns.
But she just smiles, with food she’ll cook,
And grill a skewer, in nine rounds took.
With knife and stick, she blends and blends,
Peels the skin, and opens ends.
A small scoop, she prepares with care,
For food that’s good, beyond compare…”
Anker Byrael, the notorious royal’s party crasher, was lying unconscious, naked, and bound on the central recliner. He was covered in wounds, and a bloodstained blanket was barely covering his lower half.
Thales felt a tightness in his chest as he looked at the bloodstains on the chair beneath Anker.
Perhaps it was the soundproofing effect of the headgear, but the chubby man humming was oblivious to the commotion behind him. He swung his hips, brandishing a hammer in one hand and a pair of pliers in the other, completely lost in his frenzied dance and song,
“The lecher cries, ‘Oh girl, be calm,
Last night you smiled, now you cause harm.
Why this outburst, what’s come over you?’
The girl smiles back, with a cunning view.
‘My dear sir, you have made a mistake,
I’m not a girl, but a monster at stake.
And now for dinner, I’ll have my feast,
How does the meat broth, taste at least?’”
In the grim and eerie prison cell stained with blood, the portly man was performing an energetic and unusual dance. Norb, taken aback by the strange spectacle, felt the need to break the silence and awkwardly cleared his throat, calling out the man’s name, “Gamus.”
However, it seemed the portly man did not hear Norb’s call as he continued to sway his hips and wave his waist, with his hammer dangerously swinging past the rear ends of the three onlookers who stood in front of each other.
Frustrated, Norb raised his voice and shouted, “Gamus!”
With two resounding clangs, the hammer and pliers both hit the ground, and the plump man froze in place, hands still behind him, as the singing abruptly ceased. The room became still and quiet.
The plump man named Gamus unsteadily removed his hood, clumsily spun around, and upon seeing Thales, he was momentarily startled, “Whoa!”
Gamus let out a sigh, wiping away the sweat from his face after his energetic dance. He queried, “Where did you come from, you little brat? Don’t you realise it’s inappropriate to startle people in such a manner?”
Norb stepped out of the shadows, “Gamus,”
“This is Prince Thales.”
Gamus froze.
A few seconds went by, and the overweight man grumbled, “Oh, Norb, you’re early. Nice outfit! I was just getting a workout, hehe.” He tried to play it off, but upon realising the other person’s words, his demeanour changed abruptly,
“Ah? Did you just say, the, the, the Prince?”
He looked at Thales with wide-eyed surprise and tried to hide his flabby chest with his apron, speaking in excitement, “Ahh! Prince Thales! I’m the one from the Western Desert, you know… the one… do you still remember me? That one!”
Unfortunately, his appearance, with a bare chest covered in sweat, blood, and dirt, made it difficult for him to make a good impression. Thales could only offer a polite smile in response.
“Wake up the prisoner,” Norb said, feeling embarrassed and covering his face in helplessness.
Gamus let out a chuckle and said, “Sure thing.” He then eagerly grabbed a bloodstained pair of pliers and made his way towards Anker, who was lying on a recliner.[8]
Thales’ expression changed abruptly.
“Hold on,” Norb interjected, giving Thales a quick look, “Let’s be more gentle.”
With a sheepish expression, Gamus set down the pliers and picked up a bucket of ice-cold water. He then drenched Anker, who was lying in a chair, with the freezing water, causing the latter to jolt upright as if waking from a nightmare and cough repeatedly while softly calling out “Tina…”
With agony, he expelled the water from his mouth and gazed around, dazed and weak. It wasn’t until he spotted the bindings on his limbs that he understood he was still trapped in a nightmare.
“Weren’t we supposed to… take a short break…?”
Anker stumbled back into the reclining chair, struggling to catch his breath. “It’s the middle of… the night… I’m not tired… are you all… not tired too?”
Thales gazed at the grisly sight of his nails, the blue and swollen joints stained with blood, and the dulling gaze of his eyes, feeling his own breathing become labored.
“Hey, buddy, snap out of it!”
Gamus violently smacked Anker’s face, pulling open the eyelids that had been closed, and saying, “Someone is here to see you!”
Thales let out a deep sigh and walked up to Byrael.
“Anker Byrael. It’s me.”
Anker’s eyes looked bewildered at first, but then they gradually came into focus. He groaned as he tried to sit up and take a closer look at the young man in front of him.
“Your Highness?” he asked, finally recognising him. “Prince Thales?”
Anker’s breathing accelerated, his chest heaving, as he managed a frail smile,
“How are you faring today,”
“Your Highness?”
He was shaking all over; the blanket he was wrapped in was stained with blood, and each time it brushed against his wounds, he would cry out in pain, and beads of sweat would form on his brow. Thales fought back his urge to be sick and helped Anker readjust the blanket, motioning for him to lie back down.
“I’d like to speak with him privately,” the prince said to those behind him, his voice firm. “Right now.”
Raphael and Norb exchanged a glance.
With a subtle gaze, Norb signalled to Gamus, who reluctantly produced a standard water bag used by the Western Desert army.
“Open wide, buddy.”
Gamus held the water bag up to Anker’s lips and said, “This is my specially brewed Chaca wine; it’s a medical painkiller to help you feel better—damn it, don’t drink too much; it’s expensive!”
Amidst Gamus’s distressed cries, Anker let go of the bag, leaned back on the chair, and erupted into fits of laughter.
Raphael was about to say something, but Norb patted his shoulder and led a dejected Gamus away.
The three of them then left the prison cell, leaving only Thales and Anker alone.
“It’s no use, Your Highness.”
Anker, who was shackled, struggled to turn his head towards Thales and spoke in a halting manner,
“This is the Secret Department, Your Highness. You go, they come back, make me repeat everything I told you.”
Thales gazed at Anker, who was scarred by his ordeals, and tried to avoid looking at his wounds.
“I know,” the prince said, feeling a heavy weight in his heart.
“I just want you to be at ease.”
Anker stared back at him quietly, wearing a tired smile on his face.
“You are a good person, Your Highness.”
“But, Your Highness, with your kindness and generosity, have you found a way not to be a chess piece?”[9]
Thales hesitated, a glimmer in his eyes.
“How are you different from them?”
“It’s just that I, I understand… other chess pieces.”[10]
‘This man…’
‘He chose to trust me, and in doing so, he laid down that sword.’
‘But what can I do to repay that trust?’
As Thales thought about their conversation in the Ballard Room, he pressed his lips together, as if he were about to say something but then changed his mind.
“I understand.”
Anker caught a glimpse of the prince’s expression and, with a deep breath, realised what was troubling him. “I apologise for being a burden,” he said.
“Yesterday, as well as today.”
Thales inhaled deeply, striving to quell his pessimistic feelings.
“No, the case has not reached a verdict yet, and there is still an opportunity for a positive outcome.”
Anker leaned back in his chair with a disgruntled expression, gritting his teeth.
“Your Highness, there’s no need to attempt to comfort me,” he said.
“The Byrael family has already reached rock bottom and has nothing left to its name.”[11]
“I made sure,” he paused, his face twisting in irony, “to educate myself on the kingdom’s laws before coming here.
“Carrying a weapon to commit murder against the royal family, is undoubtedly a capital offense.” He took a deep breath before continuing. “And let’s not forget the rest. I caused trouble between the Western Desert and the royal family. I separated the Seven Attendants from the Renaissance Palace. I drove a wedge between you and His Majesty. And I even embroiled many unsavoury secrets in the ‘Land Assessment Order.’ It’s a thorny and troubling matter.”
“All parties, with a vested interest, would be delighted, to disrupt the proceedings.”[12]
Anker fixed his gaze on the ceiling, his eyes wandering in the dim light. He spoke with a defeated tone, “There’s no hope for me.”
Thales clenched his teeth as he went to his chair, which felt more like a death row seat.
The Duke of Star Lake remembered the words of the Black Prophet and tried to put on a smile.
“I can handle the situation with the royal family,”
“As for Duke Doyle, I will have a ‘little chat’ with him to persuade him to act with more empathy.”
The prince made an effort to make his words sound more refined and less dull, at the very least. “With mutual understanding, the debt between your families can be resolved amicably. And with regards to the land dispute between Crow Caw City and Mirror River…”
“No, Your Highness.”
Anker interrupted him.
The young noble from the Western Desert gazed at Thales with a combination of gentleness and despair, and with a wry smile, he weakly but firmly shook his head.
“It’s clear to us all that this has long since stopped being just about Crow Caw City and Mirror River.”
Thales stumbled over his words and was momentarily at a loss for what to say, unable to continue his speech.
“Your Highness, do you have an understanding of the current situation in the Western Desert?” Anker asked, lying on the chair and looking at the prince with distant eyes, as if gazing far beyond the River of Hell.
“After the Desert War, the Blade Fangs Dune and the Royal Family’s regular army became a dominant force in the Western Desert, like a sharpened blade piercing straight to its core.”
“By retaining military control over the Western Frontline, they regulate the egoistic, exclusivist, and conservative suzerains of the Western Desert, serving as the strongest argument for the Renaissance Palace to promote the monarchy in the western region. The ‘Land Assessment Order’ and the ‘Opening of Border Counties Order’ have left the suzerains feeling so powerless and frustrated that all they can do is grind their teeth in anger.”
Thales frowned unconsciously as memories of Blessing Town and the journey back to Eternal Star City from the Western Desert resurfaced. Count Derek Kroma of Wing Fort had told him about the dire situation in the Western Desert.
“Yes, in order to save my father’s mess, find a turning point for the family, and exploit a contract loophole, I know almost by heart all official letters and replies from the Western Desert and Central Territory in the last ten years.”
Anker’s face flushed with colour as he offered a smile.
His breathing became more steady, and the grunts and moans diminished, with less interruption between his words as the wine from Gamus began to take effect.
“However, as the decade passed by, the cunning, practical, and indolent suzerains of the Western Desert found the most shrewd means of responding.”
The most shrewd response?
Thales was flabbergasted.
Anker’s mood improved slightly as he thought deeply. He declared with newfound energy, “They pay lip service to being sincere and compliant, allowing military rule in the Blade Fang Camp to become the norm. Meanwhile, they deliberately fan the flames, causing the wrath of lower-level nobles to reach new heights.”
“As time passed, royal edicts that were not conveyed through war regulations became invalid, and mandates without the support of the kingdom’s regular army were hard to enforce. The Renaissance Palace was only respected if the Legendary Wing was present in person.
Conflicts, such as the one between my family and the Doyles, only grew deeper with time and became harder to resolve… “
Anker’s gaze sharpened, as if he were aware of his limited time, and he continued speaking,
“This has turned the Desert Frontline into a symbol of protection for the suzerains of the Western Desert. They hope to get used to this blade, become one with it, and use it as a double-edged blade for the King, just like my father tenaciously held onto his overwhelming debt, leaving the creditors at a loss, hahaha…”
Pay lip service to being sincere and compliant, fan the flames, tenaciously held onto…[13]
Thales took a deep breath.
He thought back to what Gilbert had told him about the ‘Divided Western Desert’.
But Anker quickly shifted gears, “So, this blade that has been thrust into the heart of the Western Desert has exceeded both sides’ expectations and led to the most awkward stalemate.”
Anker inhaled deeply and savoured the temporary numbness brought by the drink, “The Western Desert is in a state of distress,” he said. “This blade, stuck in a vital spot, has always been their bane, but they must bear the pain and turn it into a part of themselves, a shield.”
“The Renaissance Palace is feeling the strain: Despite the significant resources they have invested, this hand holding the blade is unable to make any decisive moves. Advancing would only lead to chaos and more losses than gains, while retreating would mean wasting their previous efforts with no reward.”
Thales’ gaze shifted as he pictured a stark black and white checkered board. On one end was his father’s impressive Constellation Staff, and on the other was Fakenhaz’s humble wooden cane.
“Both sides are waiting patiently, eager for an opportunity to arise,” Anker said. “It could be a foreign war, a crisis, or a major event. The people of the Western Desert are waiting for a change in the state of affairs, while the Renaissance Palace is waiting for a favourable chance to further their cause.”
Thales nodded, understanding. He wiped away the blood that was blocking Anker’s vision. “I’m aware of the situation,” Thales said. “Events like my return, the ownership of the Blade Fangs Camp, and the incursion of the Barren Bone people and mixed breeds have become points of contention between both sides. They’re playing a game of cat and mouse, countering each other’s moves.”
“Like…”
Thales fell silent and gazed intently at Anker.
Anker tried to smile, but it was strained, and he gave a feeble nod in response,
“I came to the conclusion that the only way for the hopeless Byrael family to save itself was to seize this opportunity.”
“To make my family’s situation the centre of attention by taking advantage of this widely watched carriage.”
Thales lowered his head and let out a deep sigh.
“So, I must die. It would be best if I went out in a blaze of glory, dying at the banquet in a duel like a hero. That way, I can leave something behind to protect my family and maintain our property, lands, and noble status.”
Anker straightened his posture, ignoring the gash in his side. His breathing quickened and his voice grew sharp, as if he were back in the sword duel from the day before.[14]
“Until…”
“Until you…”
Anker gazed at the prince, feeling helpless and lost, almost pleading for something.
Thales’s hand, which was resting on the armchair, trembled slightly.
“So…”
Anker realised, and he leaned back into his chair, dejected.
“No one can save me, Your Highness.”
“Especially not if you are…”
“You.”
Thales was left at a loss for words.
He was right.
He couldn’t save him.
Even his father’s questions in the Ballard Room were too much for him to handle.
For a while, there was complete silence in the prison cell.[15]
“I’m sorry,” Thales spoke with difficulty, finding his words to be harsh and unfulfilling.
“No.”
Anker turned his head away and curled up his lips.
His eyes were filled with darkness.
“Thank you, Your Highness,”
“Thank you for being a witness to the unjust cries of others, for answering the desperate pleas of those who have reached their limits, and for recognising the pain of others…”
“You didn’t turn a blind eye and walk away.”
“Even if you could.”
“Thank you for your mercy at the banquet.”
Mercy.
Thales couldn’t help but think back to what Zayen had said,
“You smothered his hope with power: regardless of whether he wins or loses in the duel, lives or dies, whether he kills the prince or never gets the case retried, his family will never see the light of day.”
“You took advantage of his humanity and forced him to give up on the duel, even forcing him to drag out an ignoble existence. The extent of your selfishness deprived him the mercy of death.”
“Who’s the ruthless one now?”
The prince quivered slightly.
Anker spoke in a trance,
“Thank you for taking the time to come here, to listen to me—or to hear my final words.”
“Thank you for being as rumored—tolerant, fair-minded, kindhearted, and wise.”
Anker stared at the ceiling, but a smile spread across his face as if he were witnessing a beautiful dreamscape.
“Though there’s no sunlight here… it doesn’t seem so bad, does it?”
Thales couldn’t take it any longer and slammed his hand on the nearby cart. He drew in a deep breath and looked back at Anker, “I promise you, Anker, I will handle the matter concerning your father and the Doyle family…”
“That doesn’t matter anymore,” Anker replied, shaking his head with a blank gaze.
“I know my father well, Your Highness,”
“He’s a damnable scoundrel, self-centered, lavish, arrogant, and thinks he’s always right.”[16]
His face was filled with distaste and disdain.
Thales looked at him with a shocked expression,
“Anker…”
“Marrying him was the greatest misfortune of my mother’s life, but marrying her was the greatest luck of my father’s.”
Anker let out a sarcastic laugh.
“Yes, I made a spectacle of myself at the banquet with my exaggerated and false words. My father’s downfall was solely of his own making,” he said with a remorseful smile, “I’m aware of that, I’ve always been.”
“Even if Doyle’s schemes hadn’t caused him to lose our family’s fortune, he would have eventually fallen into someone else’s grasp, sooner or later.”
“No ill feelings towards anyone.”
“And certainly not toward you.”
Thales remained quiet, only lowering his gaze and grasping Anker’s hand tightly. He felt Anker’s grip tighten in response and listened intently as he continued his monologue.
As it was before, in the past, in the Prison of Bones.
Anker had a far-off look in his eyes as he spoke about his worries, almost like a child. He said, “The truth is, from when I was young until I grew up, my father was skilled in one thing, and that was beating his wife and children. Just like most fathers in the Western Desert.”
At the Tower of Eradication, Teacher Klaudier said I had a good understanding and fast reactions to the enemy’s attacks, declaring me to be perfectly suited for the ‘Rose’ sword style,” Anker said with a hint of disdain, before bursting into laughter,
“My reply to him is that it was a result of the training I received through my family’s teachings.”[17]
“A family teaching…” He chuckled.
“Believe it or not,” Thales whispered,
“Being skilled in taking beatings is also part of the family teachings I’ve received.”
Anker gave him a glance, and they shared a knowing smile,
“Maybe we should have met each other earlier and shared our experiences…”
But as time went by, the young man’s smile from the Western Desert grew increasingly heavy, poignant, and bitter.
Thales listened in silence, as if this was the only thing left for him to do.
Byrael let out a sigh. “I have never had a close relationship with my father, and I have no desire to clean up the mess he made or bear the consequences of his actions.”
Anker shook his head, and his eyes cleared as the uncertainty faded away. “But we don’t have any other choices, do we?” he said. “Especially considering our upbringing.”
Never had a close relationship with my father.
We don’t have any other options.
Especially considering our upbringing.
At that moment, Thales, who was lost in thought, felt a tight grip on his hand, and the Sin of Hell’s River stirred slightly.
“Anker…” Despite the pain, the prince gently patted the back of Anker’s hand, trying to comfort him.
But Anker Byrael only gazed blankly into the emptiness, “However, my younger siblings are innocent, just like our mother was. They shouldn’t be held back by his shadow, like I am. They deserve the chance to see beyond the Western Desert and experience the world, as I once promised them.”
Anker regained his composure with a look of defeat,
“But I no longer see that as a possibility.”
Thales closed his eyes.
His shadow…
He could clearly see a figure sitting at the end of a long table in the Ballard Room and a throne at the end of a hallway in the assembly hall.
“They will be okay,” the prince said as he opened his eyes and tried to comfort Anker. “Your younger siblings, I swear… I will do everything I can.”
Anker gave him a hesitant nod. “It’s unrealistic to expect the Byrael to keep the lands and the status of nobility enough to provide them with a comfortable life…”
Anker appeared to recall something and frantically conveyed, “But my mother, she deposited a considerable amount of money at the Princely Bank before she passed away. The proof of this is in the possession of our maid, Tina.”
He then added, “That might be enough to support my younger siblings until they reach adulthood, but I’m not sure. I had no idea that the prices here in the capital would be this high before I arrived.”
Anker wore a forced, wry grin on his face.
“Please keep this matter confidential and don’t let anyone else know, especially my father’s creditors. There are more than just the Doyles after us, especially since our land in Crow’s Caw was taken back.”
Thales breathed out and tried to sound calm and confident. “I’ll make sure it’s taken care of. In the Western Wastelands, Duke Fakenhaz will give me his support, and Derek Kroma of Wing Fort is also a friend of mine.”
The truth was, Thales wasn’t certain about their friendship, but he had to present it as such.
He had to.
However, Thales’ hand started to shake the very next second. He quickly glanced at Anker and saw that he was agitated, with his chest heaving.
“Anker, calm down. Conserve your energy…”
“It’s alright, Your Highness,” Anker managed to say through his sweat-drenched face, forcing a smile.
“Being a chess piece is still my choice.”
Thales gazed at him, emotions welling up within him. But he had a sudden realization.
“You know, Anker,” the prince spoke softly, his voice filled with thoughtfulness. “There’s still something that’s bothering me about this whole chess piece matter.”
Anker turned to look at him, confusion etched on his face.
“Yesterday, Zayen Cavendish, the man behind the conspiracy, told me to come visit you in prison,” Thales said in a serious tone, trying to keep his emotions in check.
Anker’s hands tightened involuntarily.
“He also said that His Majesty would be very pleased,” the Duke of Star Lake added solemnly.
“Why?” The Duke asked,
“Why would he say that, Anker Byrael?”
[1] He meant Anker is one of his messes.
[2] ‘frozen/rigid as ice’ but the expression used here was ‘雪窖’, ‘snow cellar’ I think is from the idiom ‘雪窖冰天’, all covered in [with] ice ad snow, not sure… but I think is easy to get the meaning.
[3] Crown Princess, as in the wife of the Crown Prince.
[4] ‘disgarding the atmosphere…’, ‘充耳不闻’, ‘to block one’s ears and not listen’ (idiom); to turn a deaf ear.
[5] ‘there are forces at work within…’ ,’心中有鬼’, (idiom) ‘have ulterior motives’; have something to hide. Btw, it could be ‘As you can see…’, but even if the glaring eyes were to Norb, the words, as he used the ‘formal you’, were to Thales.
[6] Messenger crows.
[7] ‘full of pride…’, ‘洋洋得意’; ‘immensely pleased with oneself’ (idiom).
[8] ‘eager’, ‘兴致勃勃’, ‘to become exhilarated’ (idiom); in high spirits.
[9] 棋子’, chess piece, pawn… it’s because I feel like I’ll translate or already translated this as a ‘pawn’ .
[10] This insert as others in this chapter are from the original translation.
[11] ‘nothing left…’, ‘家徒四壁’ (idiom) ‘have nothing but the bare walls in one’s house’—be utterly destitute.
[12] ‘would be delighted to disrupt the proceedings’, ‘落井下石’, (idiom) ‘drop stones on someone who has fallen into a well—hit a person when they are down.
[13] This all are idioms that I tried to rephrase or replace: ‘虚与委蛇’, ‘to feign civility’ (idiom), pretend politeness and compliance; ‘煽风点火’, fan the flames, agitate people, stir up trouble; ‘死皮赖脸’, ‘Brazenly clinging to a dead skin’, idiomatic expression that means to persist stubbornly or shamelessly in a course of action or demand, even in the face of opposition or rejection.
[14] ‘sword duel’, ‘刀光剑影’; ‘glint and flash of daggers and swords’ (idiom) .
[15] ‘prison cell, 刑房, can be translated also as ‘torture chamber ‘.
[16] For the adjectives here: self-centered, ‘刚愎自用’ obstinate and self-opinionated (idiom); lavish, ‘挥霍无度’ spend without restraint (idiom); arrogant ‘好大喜功’ crave for greatness and success, have a fondness for the grandiose (idiom); and ‘thinks he’s always right’, ‘自以为是’ to believe oneself infallible (idiom).
[17] ‘family’s teachings’; ‘ 家学渊源’, (idiom) ‘The teaching of family history has its roots’, it refers to the idea that a person’s education and knowledge is often rooted in their family background and upbringing. Is this chapter’s title, ‘Knowledge runs in the family’, it’s closest equivalent I could find.
