Cyril Fakenhaz.
Persona non grata.
Thales stared at the Duke of Western Desert solemnly. He stared at his face, which had become even more terrifying after six years because he had more wrinkles and less hair.
Being a hostage for six years had caused Thales to develop a faint sense of alienation towards the people, things, and things in Constellation.
However, when the terrifying image of the duke, who was like an old tree that had turned into a spirit, appeared in front of Thales again, and his sharp and ear-piercing voice echoed in the prince's ears again, all the memories of the past came back at that moment.
The National Conference that decided Thales' fate in Eternal Star City six years ago seemed to have happened just yesterday.
The cold wind outside the tower blew, and it made Thales, who was wearing only a thin shirt and thin pants, shudder.
"The Ruins are quite far from here."
Thales tried hard to get rid of all distracting thoughts and looked at Fakenhaz calmly.
'Calm down.
This is Williams, the territory of the regular soldiers of the royal family. He can't possibly harm me.
'Think about it. What was Fakenhaz's stance when the second prince appeared six years ago?
What was his personality like?
And why did he appear here … '
Thales' expression did not change.
"So, what exactly made someone as honorable as yourself come all the way to the dirty, messy, and exhausting border?"
Fakenhaz let out a strange laugh. He moved his walking stick and closed in on Thales, inch by inch.
"Your Highness, you are truly a newcomer and have no time to think …"
The other party's terrifying and withered face slowly grew larger in front of his eyes, causing Thales to feel uncomfortable. He could not help but grip the dagger behind his waist tightly and suppress his desire to retreat.
The Duke of Western Desert stopped when he was about a foot away from the prince. He was so close that Thales could see his dried skin, which seemed to be hanging on his bones, and the fine wrinkles on it.
"Or have you been kept in the dark since the beginning?"
Against the prince's expectations, Cyril, whose expression did not change, suddenly extended his hand and pulled the chair in front of the study table behind him. It dragged the chair on the floor with a long and unpleasant sound.
It made Thales frown.
"Let me guess, your complete question should be …"
The duke put on a fake smile and sat down in front of Thales' bed at ease. He pointed at the window behind him.
"When the nobles of the Western Desert who were sleeping in the camp were thrown off their armor, suffered heavy losses, and suffered a crushing defeat because of the unexpected ambush …
"From the commanding to the logistics, from the confidence to the prestige, from the field to the field, they lost everything and had nothing.
"When quite a number of people lost the conditions and courage to continue defending Blade Fangs Camp, they retreated dejectedly and prepared to return home.
"When the Legendary Wing returned with his Royal Family's regular army in glory, he stepped on the failure of the local nobles and re-entered Blade Fangs Camp.
Thales listened quietly to the man's narration. He looked at the buildings under the window along the man's arm.
Yesterday's attack and riots had left scars in the camp, and one of the fortresses had been burned by fire. A group of soldiers had sealed off the surroundings and stopped a man who seemed to be the owner of the house. He seemed to be directing the cleanup.
On the other side of the road, another alley that was not blocked by the soldiers was still bustling with people. Merchants, herdsmen, mercenaries, thieves, beggars, and prostitutes were bustling with noise and bustling with activity.
The boisterous voices unique to Blade Fangs Camp traveled into their ears faintly, and it was accompanied by the Silver Cross Double Star Flag that fluttered high above the camp gate.
Disaster and life. Destruction and reconstruction.
It was as if nothing had happened.
It was just another day in Blade Fangs Camp.
Cyril Fakenhaz's sharp voice was just like his nickname. Coupled with his intentionally forceful tone, it made people feel uneasy.
"What you want to ask is, under the above circumstances …"
Fakenhaz's smile was strange.
"Just what is it that made a cunning person like me come to Blade Fangs Camp, which is guarded by the prince and has an extraordinary significance?"
'This is bad.'
Cyril's strange and unpredictable laughter, his unfathomable tone, his irrelevant answers, his evasive words, and his devastating voice and appearance gave Thales a headache, even though he was used to the Northlanders' straightforward and loud voices in Dragon Clouds City.
"Your Grace, I have heard of your losses, and I am deeply sorry."
Thales, who had his meal interrupted, forced himself to focus and think hard.
Blade Fangs Camp was attacked, and Williams won.
So, this was the current situation in the camp.
'This means that Duke Fakenhaz, who holds the highest position in the entire Western Desert, rudely and violently barged into my bedroom, and his goal is …'
He thought about it and spoke.
"I did not expect it either. That was indeed an unfortunate day. Please convey my regret to your vassals. But now, I do not think that Baron Williams will be happy to see — "
But Fakenhaz interrupted him.
"I heard that you liked to play chess when you were in Northland."
Thales was taken aback by the abrupt words.
'Play chess?'
The Guardian Duke of Western Desert laughed sinisterly.
"Do you know what I find the most interesting thing about playing chess?"
Just when Thales was thinking about how to answer so that he could politely end the conversation and send the guest off safely, Cyril suddenly shook his left hand, and the end of his cane landed heavily on the ground!
* Thud! *
The longsword tied to the cane trembled.
Before Thales realized that the man was just looking for a place to place his cane, he had already subconsciously held his breath and bent down, gripping the dagger behind his waist tightly.
Fakenhaz did not seem to notice that Thales looked as if he was about to face a formidable enemy.
On the contrary, his smile faded, and he leaned forward with his hands on his knees. His skinny figure pressed down on the prince sitting on the bed.
"That is … there are no blind people in a chess game.
"Both sides of the chess game can see, see clearly, and understand every piece, every square, and every step."
Thales adjusted his breathing with great difficulty and began to think about the man's words.
Cyril, who had been staring at him, suddenly extended his hand and grabbed the plate on the study table.
The duke placed the plate with rich contents firmly on his knees. He grabbed a grilled fish that looked like it had a lot of spices added to it with his bare hands. He opened his broken teeth and bit into it. He did not follow the usual dining etiquette, nor did he care that it was the prince's meal.
Thales frowned again as he watched.
"So, let us stop pretending that we can't see the chessboard. Hmm, it tastes good. It seems to be the batch that the Lauten Family presented to me during the Renaissance Festival. It was fished from Shepherd's River."
Cyril chewed on the bony fish in his mouth as he nodded and commented in a serious manner.
'Stop pretending that you can't see the chessboard …'
As he stared at the man's face, which had great destructive power, Thales felt a prickling discomfort crawl up his back again.
"Your Grace, what are you trying to say?"
The prince no longer bothered with pleasantries. Instead, he looked at the duke with a solemn expression.
Cyril smiled. It looked as if his ugly face had suddenly cracked.
As he chewed, he raised the half-eaten grilled fish in his hand and pointed at Thales.
"To save a seemingly important personal guard."
Cyril looked out the window and watched Blade Fangs Camp after the night of chaos. His eyes shone with a rare chill.
"A certain chess player generously sacrificed a knight.
But he did not expect that the knight was the killer. It rampaged through the formation, and in the end, it became a prime minister. It ate countless infantrymen, swordsmen, shield bearers, knights, and even catapults. "
Cyril stopped eating. There was a dangerous look in his eyes.
"Teach me, Thales. In this chess game, between the knight and the personal guard …
"Who does the chess player want to sacrifice, and who does he want to save?"
'Chess game.
Chess player.
Knight.
Personal guard. '
Thales had a headache.
He was used to the boorish and ancient Heroic Spirit Palace and the bold and heroic Northlanders. The Guardian Duke of Western Desert who beat around the bush, mocked him, and was so sarcastic that it was unpleasant made Thales very uncomfortable. In comparison, even Trentida, the Archduke of Reconstruction Tower, who was famous for being stingy and cunning, paled in comparison.
The prince could only sigh and try his best not to look at the grilled fish in Cyril's hand, which had been bitten into pieces.
"I'm sorry, I'm not good at chess. It's just a hobby when I'm free."
Cyril let out a strange laugh. His ugly and withered face rippled.
"Ha, you don't care."
He leaned forward again and pointed at Thales with his left hand. His tone turned cold.
"But you should care."
The sudden change in Cyril's attitude confused Thales.
But Duke Fakenhaz immediately grabbed the grilled fish in his right hand and waved it in front of Thales.
"Just like how you don't care about this fish, I don't care about this fish either.
But … "
Under Thales' furious expression, Cyril bit the fish's head and tore it from the grilled fish. There was a loud, crisp sound.
Thales looked at the grilled fish and felt a wave of discomfort.
Cyril looked at Thales coldly as he chewed. He gently shook the headless grilled fish in his hand.
"It should still care about itself."
Thales' expression was solemn.
He had faced many opponents who were in high positions, and many of them had their own unique presences, such as Lampard, who had an overbearing presence; King Kessel, who was a man of few words and kept people away; and Count Lisban, who had a profound gaze that made people feel uneasy.
No matter where these people appeared, even if they were just sitting quietly in a corner of the room, it was impossible to ignore their existence.
But Cyril Fakenhaz seemed to be special. His face was withered, and his appearance was terrifying. His posture was almost wretched. Even when he looked at people, he maintained the posture of leaning his neck forward and squinting his eyes slightly. The first impression he gave people was a strong sense of discomfort and awkwardness. His sharp and unpleasant voice made people frown and want to ignore him.
But as Cyril's movements changed, his tone fluctuated, and his gaze drifted, there would always be an inadvertent moment when this withered old man would give people a sense of danger, as if there was a blade on their backs.
It was like combing through piles of straw, constantly worrying about whether their fingers would be pricked by hidden thorns the next moment.
It was like a horror movie that slowly added to the atmosphere, piled up emotions, and gradually entered its climax.
Like now.
Thales tried hard to get rid of the shadow in his heart. He could only choose the method that Northlanders were most used to, and go straight to the point.
"Your Grace, I am very grateful that you came to visit me. I also know that Fakenhaz has contributed a lot to my journey back to the kingdom …
"But believe me, I know nothing about the 'chess game' between you and the Baron of Blade Fangs Camp. I only got involved by chance, and I can do nothing about it. As for the other things, I believe …"
But Cyril's expression turned cold.
"I still remember what happened six years ago."
The duke put down the grilled fish and stared at Thales carefully, as if he wanted to stare Thales' soul out of his body.
"When you ignored your 'Cunning Fox' teacher's expression during the National Conference and spoke nonsense."
A thought appeared in Thales' mind.
Cyril's words made Thales slowly remember the past.
"When the stubborn One-Eyed Dragon oppressed you, you mocked him and retaliated fiercely. When the boy from Iris Flowers ignored you, you waited for an opportunity to strike and kill him in one strike. When the short-sighted nobles disrespected you, you remembered it and returned the favor a hundred times over.
"Your words are harsh, your words are harsh, and you are unforgiving when you are in a favorable position."
The Duke of Western Desert's expression was very interesting when he said these words. He seemed to be looking forward to it with some admiration, but he also seemed to be mocking Thales as if he was watching a good show.
Thales remembered how he stood against the suzerains during the National Conference when he was young. He also remembered what Gilbert said to him later.
The prince sighed, and there was a hint of melancholy in his voice.
"At that time, I was just a child.
If I offended you in any way, it was because I was young, frivolous, ignorant, and fearless — "
Fakenhaz took over the conversation and interrupted him fiercely again.
"I was also a chess piece that was unwilling to be manipulated by others."
At that moment, Cyril's gaze was very sharp.
"To break free, even if I had to face the endless stars high above me, I still dared to test my blade."
There was a profound meaning to this sentence, and Thales could not help but pause for a moment.
When he said this, Cyril turned his head around and spat out the fish bone that had been chewed into pieces.
The way he spat out the fish bone did not seem like he was spitting it out, but more like he was chopping a very troublesome piece of firewood.
"I have to say, at that time, you were more to my taste, more …"
The duke turned his head around and took out a handkerchief to wipe his mouth and hands. There was a meaningful look in his eyes.
"Cuter."
Thales sucked in a deep breath.
He could vaguely understand what the duke was trying to say.
So, he did not want to listen to it anymore.
"But look at you now."
Cyril looked at him in a mocking manner. He sized him up as if he was sizing up a prostitute who served wine at a banquet.
"Gentle, polite, and sanctimonious.
"You sheathed your blade, kept your poisonous fangs in your mouth, and hid your sharp claws in your palms." The Duke of Western Desert's sharp voice filled the room.
"Isn't it a pity?"
Thales lifted his gaze and looked straight at Cyril.
He was no longer interested in playing with this strange old man who always spoke in a sarcastic manner even though he obviously had a high position of power.
"Perhaps this is the right thing to do."
"My teacher told me before," the prince said in a deep voice.
"Wise men rarely argue eloquently."
'Unfortunately, he never managed to do so.'
Thales sighed in his heart.
The second prince's tone was calm, and there was a hint of firm rejection in it.
"And I believe that we are not fools."
Fakenhaz laughed again.
This time, his laughter was exceptionally long, to the point that even Thales, who was usually very patient, became impatient.
Cyril stopped laughing and said airily, "Very well.
Then, at least, you should not repeat Herman's mistake. "
Thales did not react for a moment.
"Who?"
Cyril looked around the room. He laughed strangely, and his voice sounded like a gust of chilly wind.
"As a diplomat, he has a graceful demeanor, perfect etiquette, eloquence, and wit. He makes all those who want to speak loudly in front of him feel ashamed and at a loss for words, so he can always use his silver tongue to gain the most benefits in negotiations.
"No matter who he faces."
'Herman?'
Thales' heart skipped a beat. He subconsciously glanced at the corner where his luggage was piled up. His fourth uncle, Herman Jadestar's last letter was also there.
'Why did he mention him?
Just because this is … Ghost Prince Tower? '
When he remembered that this was the place where another Jadestar died, and that the bed he lay on might have been the one he slept on before he died, Thales felt a suffocating feeling in his heart.
"But at the same time, he also built a high wall in his heart. He used a polite smile and clever words to reject everything."
Strangely, Cyril's expression became profound. He was a little absent-minded, and it chased away a lot of the gloom brought about by his terrifying face.
"Regardless of whether it was the flattery and lies of a sycophant, or the harsh advice of a friend.
"So, he paid the price."
This sentence made Thales' attention go into overdrive.
'What do you mean?
Paid the price? '
"You know Prince Herman, my uncle?"
But Fakenhaz did not answer him.
The ruler of Western Desert slowly turned around and sized up the narrow room on the top floor. The legs of the chair rubbed against the floor and let out an unpleasant, muffled sound.
"I still remember that night."
As he sized up the furnishings in the room, Cyril Fakenhaz snorted softly, and no one could tell whether he was being sarcastic or sentimental.
"That night."
Thales saw a hint of darkness in Fakenhaz's terrifying eyes.
"When I rushed over, I only saw him lying quietly on the ground. His face was covered in blood, and he could no longer speak.
"The alarm in the camp went off. The soldiers under the tower were panicking and at a loss. His personal guards scolded me, and the furious attendant led the regular soldiers to search for all living people within a one-hundred-foot radius. They even cut down a few local nobles on the spot.
"Internal strife broke out at any moment. The regular soldiers of the royal family and the local recruits and even mercenaries who rushed over raised their weapons in a standoff. There were a few clashes, and there were countless casualties. Baron Luhmann and I mediated in the middle, but the results were minimal. Everyone was tense and panicked."
'That night.'
Thales immediately realized what Fakenhaz was talking about.
Duke Cyril seemed to have ignored Thales' existence. He only slowly observed the room that once belonged to the Ghost Prince.
"The military depot, the supply warehouse, the Prison of Bones, and other places soon erupted into chaos. Just like the past few days, order in the camp collapsed, and we had no time to take care of it.
"In less than half an hour, beacons and signal arrows came one after another from the five sentry posts several miles away. The orcs and Barren Bone people were so long that the end of the line could not be seen. They mysteriously took advantage of the night and launched an unprecedented ambush.
"The prince's death had great implications. The regular soldiers could not suppress their hatred and only wanted to attack. The suzerains were distracted and focused on defense. The mercenaries harbored ulterior motives and only wanted to protect themselves.
"The generals and commanders were suspicious of each other, morale was low, and there was a traitor … We, who originally had the upper hand, only managed to defend for less than a day."
Cyril turned his head and looked at the houses under the window. His gaze froze slightly.
"At the most critical moment, we lost contact with each other. I was struck off my mount, and half of my face was also torn off by a damned orc. Baron Luhmann even sacrificed his life to cover our retreat from the camp.
"If it weren't for the lack of military discipline of the orcs who intercepted us and only cared about looting in a disorderly manner … Hmph."
Cyril's gaze was filled with mockery and disdain. He snorted and shook his head.
Thales heaved a sigh and closed his eyes.
"But that wasn't the worst."
Duke Fakenhaz's expression became more and more stiff. His ugly and withered face, which made people uncomfortable, turned into an indifferent and cold expression that could not be ignored.
"Just as we retreated to Blessings Town and regrouped our defeated army, intending to send Herman's body and the letter requesting for reinforcements back to Eternal Star City … even more terrifying news came from Wing Fort."
'Even more terrifying news.'
Thales' heart tensed.
"Eternal Star City was in chaos. Renaissance Palace was in chaos. The king and the crown prince … were both assassinated."
Thales' breathing slowed down as he listened to Cyril's words.
"The capital was locked down, and communication was cut off. We lost contact with a large number of nobles and suzerains in the city. The center of Constellation was silent. Our reinforcements were nowhere in sight."
Cyril turned his head around and looked at Thales. His gaze was unfocused, as if he was staring at the air behind Thales.
"And this was just the beginning.
"Urgent messages came one after another from Wing Fort. Bad news came one after another."
Cyril turned his back to the light. His face looked gloomy in the cold wind.
"In the north, Broken Dragon Fortress fell. The second prince died. Eckstedt's army pressed down on the Northern Territory, and they crossed the Land of Cliffs. They were unstoppable.
"In the east, the third prince died in Broken Bridge Fortress. The waterway supply he was in charge of overseeing the war stopped because it was exclusively for the north and south battlefields.
"In the southwest, the Duke of Star Lake died in internal strife. The Starlight Brigade, which shouldered the people's hopes, lost their leader and cut off their supplies. They fell apart and disappeared without a trace."
The bleakness and coldness in the duke's words caused the prince to shudder. It reminded him of Gilbert's narration of the Bloody Year.
But Thales immediately remembered Zakriel's half-truths and the Royal Guards' painful confessions in the dungeon. He could not help but clench his fists.
"The flames of war were everywhere in Constellation. The kingdom's hope was cut off. The enemy's army was at the city gates, and the royal family was nowhere to be found.
"And where should Western Desert go from here?
"The suzerains of Western Desert held a meeting in Blessings Town, and many of them harbored ulterior motives. Some of them shut themselves in, some of them compromised and surrendered, some of them gathered troops to form an independent state, and there were also a few of them who discussed in private to support the new regime.
"Compared to that, the invasion of the mixed breeds and Barren Species, the fall of Blade Fangs Camp, and the disaster at the borders of Western Desert seem to be nothing."
Cyril raised his head. The coldness on his ugly face shocked Thales.
"In Sunset Temple in Blessings Town, I listened to their meaningless arguments. I was heavily injured and could only be supported by others. I stood in front of Herman's body, which was covered with a thick cloth, and asked him in silence, 'Old friend, pretty boy, where did the handsome face and witty eloquence you were so proud of go?'"
Cyril's tone was very cold, but there was a sense of loss and bleakness in it that Thales did not expect.
"That is all in the past." Thales tried to comfort him, and at the same time, he ordered him to leave.
"Now, we have …"
But Fakenhaz stared at the ground with his hands on his knees.
He suddenly said, "So, sometimes, I regret it."
'Regret?'
Thales was stunned.
Cyril raised his head. His eyes sparkled, and his expression was strange.
"That night, if I did not do that, what would the future hold?"
Thales was a little puzzled.
"Do that? Do what? "
Cyril sneered and put the tray back on the desk.
He stared at Thales again, as if he had turned back into the Duke of Western Desert who behaved strangely, laughed, and scolded angrily.
"That night, if I didn't secretly let the assassins from Shadow Shield into the camp …"
"Put them in front of Herman …"
At that moment, Thales' heart skipped a beat.
It was as if all the hairs on his body were standing on end.
Put the assassins from Shadow Shield …
Put them in …
Cyril said airily,
"Then, what will happen in the Bloody Year?"
Everything was still.
It was as if the Sin of Hell's River had taken effect again.
Only the sound of the fierce wind outside the window reminded him of the passing of time.
Thales was like a frozen ice sculpture. He stared at Cyril without moving.
In front of him was the terrifying Guardian Duke of Western Desert. Cyril Fakenhaz did not smile, speak, mock, or provoke him. He only stared at Thales quietly, and he was incredibly calm.
The cold wind outside the window grew stronger again, and it caused Fakenhaz 'robe to flutter continuously.
On his robe was the symbol of the Fakenhaz Family's skull with four eye sockets. It was incredibly eye-catching, and it was as ferocious as ever.
It was as if it had come to life.
Only God knew how much effort Thales had to put in to suppress his desire to call for Yodel or get into a fighting stance.
Only God knew.
After a while, Thales uttered a word in a solemn, solemn, difficult, and hostile manner.
"You?"
Cyril leaned against the back of his chair and narrowed his eyes.
"Me."
His tone was calm, and his posture was calm.
Thales sucked in a deep breath.
Both of them were still for a few seconds. Only the sound of the wind remained.
Then, Cyril put on a satisfied expression.
"Very good."
The duke straightened his back. His face, which was as thin as a piece of wood, finally showed a rare shrewd and solemn expression.
"We are finally talking."
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