In the interrogation room, Felicia and Raphael both left.
Thales stared motionlessly at the empty room on the other side of the glass. His eyes were still and his emotions were complicated.
Sunset Pub …
Jala …
The familiar name reverberated in his memory, stirring up endless waves every time he heard it.
Ever since he finished chatting with Gilbert that time, as a prince, he, who carried a heavy burden, had buried their sadness in the deepest part of his heart.
Until just now.
Thales subconsciously clenched his fists.
The Sin of Hell's River was not threatened by any external force, but it was still surging and roaring in his veins.
"Your Highness, do you mind giving me another push?"
Morat's pleasant and comfortable voice, coupled with the constant sizzling of the black-veined vines, pulled Thales back to reality from his complicated thoughts.
But it also made him even more upset and restless.
Thales slowly turned around and looked at the Black Prophet.
But Thales did not move, nor did he help the sickening wheelchair under the old man's knees.
Why.
Why here …
In front of the person he feared the most.
"You brought Felicia here on purpose, didn't you?"
Thales was expressionless and his tone was cold.
The old man in the wheelchair put down his teacup and turned around indifferently.
"Not just to let me see the consequences of what I've done."
Thales' eyes turned cold as he looked straight at Morat.
"You know her identity, her past.
"You also know my past.
"So you deliberately let Raphael mention Sunset Pub.
"In front of me."
The Black Prophet stared at him, his wrinkled face breaking into a smile.
"How is it, Your Highness? Surprised?"
For some reason, the smile was so awkward in Thales' eyes.
Smug.
Dark.
Hateful.
There must be a motive.
"What do you mean by this? What are you going to do? "
Thales stared at Morat, his eyes spitting fire.
"Old man."
The interrogation room instantly became oppressive and solemn. The black-veined vines on the old man's wheelchair and knees wriggled uneasily at an extremely high frequency, sizzling.
In the darkness and silence, the Black Prophet chuckled.
In the face of the prince's anger and accusations, he indifferently moved his wheelchair and turned around to face Thales.
"I thought that when you saw how attentive the Secret Intelligence Department was to your wish, and when you heard about your childhood playmate again, you would be very happy."
Morat looked at the young man in front of him quietly.
"Thales …"
"Prince?"
He deliberately left a long pause between the two words, causing the youth to frown.
It was as if they had returned to that afternoon in Mindis Hall. There, Thales — a child beggar, an illegitimate child, a boy with secrets and an uncertain future — met for the first time with Constellation's scariest and most sinister spy chief who was hunting for the forbidden calamity.
At that time, Jines, Gilbert, and even Yodel were by his side. Even the old witch, Serena, helped him.
But now, in the lair of the Kingdom's Secret Intelligence Department.
No one could protect him.
Except for himself.
"But when I asked you for help in the past, you told me." Thales stared coldly at the old man.
"Only when I'm strong enough can we talk about protecting them."
"Otherwise, they will only become my … weakness."
His gaze was indignant.
"Being held back by others."
Morat clicked his tongue softly.
"Very well, you still remember."
The Black Prophet's expression turned cold, and the surrounding temperature dropped instantly.
"Then why did you ask Count Gilbert Caso to search for them for the past few years?"
"Even when you asked Raphael for help, you had to do everything possible to hide it from me?"
Thales felt a chill in his heart.
He knew.
The Duke of Star Lake looked at Morat's smile. The old man in front of him knew everything about him asking Gilbert Caso to search for them.
As always.
But …
Jala.
Thales called the name again.
No.
He could not let the Black Prophet find her.
Because that girl was not just Jala.
She was Jala Charleton.
The Assassin's Flower.
"See? This is the problem. This is the reason why you and the Secret Intelligence Department have been out of sync for so many years. "Morat's cold but sharp gaze was fixed on him, as if he was determined to win.
"We've always been on our own, unable to connect."
The black-veined vines coiled up on his knees again, hissing like many poisonous snakes tangled together. It was strange and dangerous.
Thales clenched his teeth.
The pain of having his disguise torn apart in Renaissance Palace, the pain of witnessing countless tragedies in the interrogation room, the dissatisfaction with the setbacks of the Secret Intelligence Department over the years, and the worry for Jala and the child beggars all melted into Thales' veins at this moment. Together with the Sin of Hell's River, it flowed into his tortured nerves.
It ignited the dissatisfaction in his chest.
It pointed straight at the old man in front of him.
"I've said it before. Put away your nose that's sniffing around, and stop meddling in my affairs."
Thales gritted his teeth.
"Or have you made up your mind to use them as a bargaining chip to threaten me?"
The Black Prophet laughed.
"You were in danger in the north, Your Highness.
"Therefore, you had many concerns and found it hard to trust us, so much so that you doubted our motives. I'm not surprised.
"In fact, it should be a good thing that you're cautious and think twice about everything —"
Thales interrupted him with a sneer.
"Then why didn't you say anything for the past six years? Why did you wait until I returned to the country before revealing this matter in front of me?"
Morat paused for a while, deep in thought.
"You're right, Your Highness.
"We began to pay full attention to this matter …"
The old man's tone became stern.
"It's precisely because you've returned to the country.
"Because as the Duke of Star Lake, you're now — to be precise, when you expressed your dissatisfaction with my wheelchair just now — that's when you're truly 'powerful'."
Morat looked at the other end of the interrogation room.
"That's why we let you see that scene just now.
"Your 'weakness'."
'Weakness.'
Thales was shocked.
"What do you mean?"
The Black Prophet grinned.
"Your Highness, you're young and intelligent. I don't need to say much to understand His Majesty's intention in sending you here.
"Regarding the 'mess' you saw," the old man turned to the empty room on the other side of the glass. The black-veined vines swayed back and forth, as though they were staring at Thales all the time.
"What do you think?"
'Mess.'
Thales felt empty.
Without waiting for his answer, Morat said slowly,
"The unemployed workers at the winery …
"The order for duel weapons from the blacksmith shop …
"The nobles of Blade Edge Hill protested …"
With every word he said, Thales became more absent-minded.
"The murders caused by lettuce …
"And the Northland girls in Red Street Market …
'These, these are all …'
Thales' lips moved slightly, but he could not squeeze out even a word.
"I know."
Morat's tone softened.
"You feel very wronged, very depressed, very sad, very indignant.
"All of these were actually not your intention.
"But this is the power of power."
The power of power.
Thales was speechless.
The Black Prophet continued to stare at him, full of smiles, but there was no warmth in his eyes.
"Before this, I believe that everyone, whether it was Count Caso, Female Officer Jines, or even His Majesty, had warned you that as the Prince of Constellation, the Duke of Star Lake, and the heir to the throne of this kingdom, your decisions would have far-reaching effects, and the repercussions would be endless."
Thales took a deep breath, "I know, I will think of ways to make up for it …"
But Morat suddenly raised his voice, drowning out his confession.
"But maybe they didn't tell you the crueler part: compared to the high position you are in, what you do doesn't matter."
"No matter how you make up for it, it will be of no use."
Thales looked up, stunned.
"What?"
'Insignificant?
Of no use? '
The old man wheeled his wheelchair in front of him, his voice hoarse.
"Because your 'behavior' itself is more influential than its content and substance."
"What is important is not what you do, whether you do it or not, and even more so, whether you do it right or wrong, but that you are there."
At that moment, the Black Prophet's gaze was like a bottomless black hole, with an unprecedented suction force that firmly enveloped Thales.
"It is your position and existence."
'What is important is not what you do …
It is your position and existence … '
Thales frowned and met the old man's gaze.
But in his mind, he thought of the words of another "person":
"Thales, in this world, they do not hate us … What they are unwilling to forgive and find difficult to accept is not our actions …
"It is our existence."
"Under the power of power, your position is different from others, and the gap is set. Then, no matter what you do in the upper reaches of power, what will happen will happen."
The Black Prophet's expression was indifferent. His gaze was unfocused as he looked at Thales, but it was more like he was looking into the distance.
"You make a small ripple, and the torrent will roll.
"You make light of it, but it is heavy.
"You whisper softly, but it is deafening."
Morat sighed slowly, feeling inexplicably emotional.
"Power, it pours down like a mountain torrent and destroys everything: from you, to the noble of Blade Edge Hill just now, to the merchant Dagori and the blacksmith Old Jilburn, to Miss Felicia and that poor vegetable and fruit farmer, all the way to the thousands of people in the kingdom. No one is spared.
"No one can stop it, and no one can stop it.
"This is the 'weakness' that ultimately prevents you from reuniting with your childhood playmates after so many years."
Thales was stunned.
"Your Highness, with all due respect, it is very easy to find their whereabouts …
"But what happens after you find them?"
Gilbert's words rang in his mind.
"Have you ever thought about the impact your reward, repayment, or even just observing them in secret might have on them?
"It is easy to do one thing, but it is extremely difficult to perfectly deal with the countless consequences brought about by this matter."
As he thought of this, Thales became more and more depressed.
"You mean … no matter what I do, power will always distort my actions, and as a prince, I can only accept it in exchange for a cold and hard heart?"
Morat did not speak. He carefully sized up the youth in front of him.
There was a long silence in the interrogation room.
Until the Black Prophet's eyes focused again.
"In fact, to prevent such accidents and losses, at the upper reaches of power, at the top of the crowd, around us …
"A high wall was built."
Thales looked up.
The Black Prophet's eyes were bright, and he spoke with certainty.
"It's a buffer wall to prevent a noble like you from becoming a remorseful person with a single mistake."
"So as to separate the mountain torrent and thunder of power."
Morat turned his wheelchair around and looked at the empty interrogation room.
"So we have social etiquette, lifestyle fashions, facade decorations, behavior styles … These seemingly unrelated factors are the result of power, the social dams it builds on its own in the course of its operation.
"Using differences to separate people, using differences to separate superiority and inferiority, using rejection to label categories, and using rupture to regulate behavior.
"To tell the world that they are completely different from us."
are
all
that
we
are
not.)
Thales frowned.
The Black Prophet's gaze was sharp.
"That's right. They block communication, foster estrangement, breed conflict, and mark class.
"But it has also built a natural floodgate for the rampant, barbaric power," Li Yao said.
Looking at the puzzled Thales, Morat snorted softly.
"Yesterday, if you had followed etiquette and drank that glass of wine, if you had followed the aristocratic fashion and eaten some other dishes, if you had clearly written 'no duels' on your facade, if you had stuck to the usual aloof style of the royal family, and not rejected protesters like Anker Byrael …"
Morat changed the topic.
"And this, this is the 'weakness' you exposed yesterday — at least one of them."
He did not continue.
But Thales' frown deepened.
The prince suddenly remembered that on the day he returned to Eternal Star City, Mallos had unreasonably prevented the prince from showing his face in public, insisting that he stay low-key in the carriage, saying that it would "save a lot of trouble".
And he …
He had arrogantly returned a sword to Mallos.
Morat exhaled and allowed the black-veined vines on his knees to stretch wildly.
"Most aristocrats and high-ranking people grow up under such norms, almost instinctively: they know that they have to act with self-control, be cautious in their statements, behave in accordance with etiquette, and have a serious attitude. They subconsciously practice the principle of separation and division to avoid being a bad example and a breach in the dam, allowing power — whether it's the suction from above or the buoyancy from below — to engulf them."
With a sense of disappointment, Thales snorted sarcastically.
"You mean, I need to go back and redo my etiquette lessons?"
But the Black Prophet's gaze was sharp, and he ignored his interruption.
"But this also fosters the habit of these people: they are used to doing it, as if it's instinct, but they don't know why they do it.
"They can't cross this high wall and dam. Outside the norms, they will be at a loss in the face of the barbaric attitude of power after it breaks free."
The old man in the wheelchair looked straight at Thales, and his tone changed.
"But Your Highness Thales, you, you're different."
Thales was stunned.
The Black Prophet's lips curled slightly.
"You may be of noble birth, but you started from humble beginnings.
"You stand on the upper reaches of the river, but you understand the monstrous waves of the lower reaches better than most of the children of aristocrats and the relatives of officials.
"And today, you see how inconspicuously they originate from the tiny ripples under your noble fingertips."
Thales bit his lower lip.
"First, it's these messes, then my past …"
The prince suppressed the confusion and bewilderment in his heart.
"After saying so much, you want me to stand on the high wall, make a choice between the gains and losses of power, make a sacrifice, and ignore and accept the 'tides' behind the 'ripples' in order to overcome my weakness and become truly 'strong'?"
At this point, Thales felt dejected.
Morat stared at him for a long, long time.
But unexpectedly, the old man shook his head in the end.
"No.
"I told you to eliminate your weaknesses."
"But you don't have to be restricted by your means."
In the next second, the Black Prophet's tone became urgent, and every word was full of strength.
"A slight ripple, and a torrent will roll.
"It's just an understatement, yet it's so colorful."
"A whisper is deafening."
Morat's eyes flashed, as if there was a blade in them.
"From another perspective, this is not a weakness, but an advantage.
"This is the true power of power.
"A power that many people dream of."
At that moment, Thales had an illusion.
The old man in the wheelchair before him had turned into the deepest point in the endless darkness, devouring all light.
King Nuven, King Chapman, King Kessel … These people seemed to be looking at him from the other end of the darkness.
The black-veined vines made an ominous sound and squirmed more violently.
"You do not drink, causing countless winemakers to lose their jobs amidst the banquet organizers' suspicions and doubts about your preferences …
"But your clear taste in wine can also force winemakers to rack their brains to brew better wine, or to do everything possible to develop new export routes abroad."
The Black Prophet suddenly became aggressive.
"Your reckless duel at the banquet will cause thousands of young people to bleed on the streets because of a moment of impulse.
"But your bravery and fearlessness in the face of a duel can also inspire the kingdom's martial spirit and sweep away the decadent voices.
"Your tolerance and indulgence towards lawless people like Byrael will cause the minds of countless subjects to become unstable and restless.
"But your harsh pursuit of justice and life can also warn people of their evil intentions, deter unhealthy tendencies, and unite noble men to go through fire and water for you.
"You will become the norm at the banquet, and follow the example of your superiors, which will cause profit-seeking villains to flock to the masses, and the common people will never know whether they will be lucky or not.
"But you can also make a decree with a flip of your hand, and make contributions with your words, leading the kingdom's direction, and opening a way out for the future."
Thales stared blankly at the Chief of Intelligence of the Secret Intelligence Department.
The old man said eerily,
"You, who are on both sides of the wall, should focus on these, and not hesitate in the ruins of power after the flood has passed through."
'The power of power.'
Thales stared at Morat, his mind in a jumbled mess of thoughts.
But then he remembered another passage:
"Trust me, your people will always give you unexpected feedback that goes against your wishes."
[People will always respond to their rulers in ways that are beyond their expectations and catch them off guard.]
It was as if the Duke of Western Desert was standing in front of him again, with a ferocious and terrifying face, smiling at him with a tacit understanding.
Thales felt his heart sink.
"But you said it," he said with difficulty,
"My 'behavior' itself is more influential than the content and substance of my behavior."
"No matter what I do, there will be countless messes to clean up, and if I deliberately make up for it —"
"That's right!"
The Black Prophet interrupted him loudly. His voice, which sounded like a venomous snake hissing, was very powerful at this moment.
"So, you have to be more focused and do your best.
"Try to make the content and substance of your action." He stretched out his finger and pointed at Thales' heart.
"Surpass itself.
"Surpass the original sin of its position and existence, and in turn, cover its weakness.
"Are you worried that with the addition of your position, your concern for your childhood playmates will become their Ferryman of Hell's River Bell?" The Black Prophet suddenly brought up the thing that Thales cared about the most, "Then you have to think about how to make your concern, your actions, go beyond the limits brought about by your position of power, and drive away that life-threatening ferryman."
Thales' expression was uncertain, and his mind was a mess.
"What you have to do is not to make up for it, but to control it. Not to stand on this high wall and sigh, but to ride this high wall and ride the waves. "
The Black Prophet snorted coldly, "There's a Far Eastern proverb …
"A gentleman enslaves objects, and a villain enslaves objects."
Thales was silent and deep in thought.
"Your Highness," Morat pressed on the arm of the chair, and the black-veined vines on it gradually calmed down, "So was the former king.
"So was Crown Prince Midier.
"So was His Majesty Kessel."
Hearing the familiar name, Thales frowned hard.
He stared at the other party.
"What if … I can't do it?"
The Black Prophet smiled.
"You can do it."
Morat turned his wheelchair and turned his back to the prince.
"From the moment you returned to the country, you could do it.
"You were ready a long time ago.
"Just one step away."
He said sinisterly,
"It's just that you're too cautious, too fearful, and too wary of its unpredictable power and possible consequences."
Thales gritted his teeth, his thoughts unsettled.
A few seconds later, he looked up abruptly at the Black Prophet's back.
"I don't like you.
"I know." Morat did not turn his head.
"But as I said, it doesn't matter whether you like me or not.
"What matters is whether the fact that you don't like me can transcend the established position between you and me," the old man said slowly.
"Under your control, it will bring about its true effects."
Thales' expression changed slightly.
Morat took a deep breath, turned his wheelchair, and prepared to leave.
At this moment.
"Will you be lonely?"
The Black Prophet paused.
Thales cast a glance at him from behind.
"Lord Hansen, you said before that it's been a long, long time since you've met someone who can feel at ease in front of you without any burden, and who is not afraid to lie to you.
"That must feel very lonely."
Morat did not speak. Only his back moved.
"Then …"
Thales' tone changed slightly.
"The Red Witch."
At that moment, Thales saw the black-veined vines on the Black Prophet's wheelchair sway.
"It's said that Madam Calshan, who can deceive you and is not afraid to lie to you … Is she one of them?"
Morat remained silent. Only the black-veined vines wriggled back and forth, more and more jubilant.
The atmosphere in the interrogation room became very delicate.
A few seconds later.
"Please forgive me, I'm old and my energy is limited.
"I'm going to rest first." The Black Prophet did not move, but the demonic vines on his knees swayed horribly, covering the wheel of the wheelchair and dyeing it into endless darkness.
"Raphael, entertain His Highness well. Make sure he feels at home."
Thales turned his head in shock, only to find that Raphael was already standing at the door.
The Barren Bone man bowed respectfully.
Covered by the dark vines, Morat's wheelchair rolled in a strange and astonishing manner, carrying him forward and disappearing outside the door.
The interrogation room regained its peace and relaxation.
Thales stared blankly in the direction where the Black Prophet had left.
"So, his wheelchair can actually move on its own."
He murmured.
"There's no need for me to push him."
Raphael came to his side and smiled.
"Sometimes, some people just need a push," Ye Zichen said.
Thales sighed.
"How did you get along with him all these years?"
Raphael raised his eyebrows and looked at the door where the Black Prophet had disappeared.
"He said," the Barren Bone man said calmly.
"And I listened."
Thales snorted with a gloomy expression.
"I guess so."
Raphael smiled lightly and gestured to the door.
"As I said, you'll only feel worse when you get to the Secret Intelligence Department."
The prince sighed and followed Raphael out of the interrogation room.
"Felicia, that girl left?"
With complicated feelings, Thales walked past the portrait of Princess Theodora, the Glorious Star ("I'm not even looking at you. Why the f * ck are you scolding me? You narcissistic idiot!" — Thales vented his anger at the incompetence in his heart.) and asked in a noncommittal manner.
Raphael nodded.
"Why, do you want to spend some more time with her?"
Thales frowned at him, looking displeased.
Raphael smiled lightly and raised his hand in surrender.
Thales glared at him and snorted softly.
"What about you … Cohen?"
"He'll be fine." Raphael did not blush or pant. He did not look ashamed at all, "When she realizes that he's not me.
"But you won't," Thales said coldly with a hint of bickering, "When he realizes that you sold him out."
"It's okay." Raphael did not feel burdened at all and was relaxed.
"He's used to it.
"And, Cohen …"
Raphael paused for a moment. The corners of his mouth curled up and he kept what he wanted to say in his heart.
'He can't beat me.'
"Raphael."
The two of them walked in silence for a while before Thales suddenly spoke.
"Do you guys do this often?
"Wipe my ass?"
Raphael frowned and turned around.
"Morat said that I've always been incompatible with the Secret Intelligence Department — we've always been on our own, and there's no communication between us," Thales said faintly.
"I've brought you guys … a lot of trouble?"
Raphael sighed slightly.
"Probably," he replied casually and did not say anything else.
Thales snorted softly.
'Is that so?'
"But it's not all trouble, right? I should be … of some help? "
Thales thought of the "mess" he saw today and the "mess" the Secret Intelligence Department had wiped for him.
"What you need to do is not to make up for it, but to control it."
Raphael was silent for a while.
"Do you want me to tell the truth?"
Thales looked at the Barren Bone man.
"National Conference, Dragon Clouds City, the Great Desert, Blade Fangs Camp …"
Raphael's expression did not change as he counted the locations.
"Basically, all the times you 'acted freely' and saved the world by yourself, the people you helped …
"Were all hindrances."
Thales' expression changed.
"It can't be?"
Raphael turned his head and gave him a polite fake smile.
"But —"
Thales caught up with him and said indignantly,
"National Conference, if I hadn't persuaded Zayen …"
"We had a backup plan."
"Dragon Clouds City, if I hadn't gone back and defeated Lampard …"
"We also had a backup plan."
"Great Desert …"
"As expected."
"Blade Fangs Camp …"
"Completely hindrance."
Thales did not manage to catch his breath.
He said unhappily, "Really?"
Raphael shrugged, "The Kingdom's Secret Intelligence Department is the place with the most meticulous planning in Constellation. We have records of any accidents, including you. The prince's butt is one of them."
When he heard this name, Thales took a deep breath and reminded himself not to get angry.
"Alright, let's take the most exaggerated example …"
"Six years ago, when you carried out 'Dragon's Blood', did you think that you would lose control like this? Charleton? Shadow Shield? Secret Room? Chapman Lampard? "
Raphael looked back at him.
"Of course.
"It was all within expectations."
Thales was stunned, and he immediately laughed in anger.
"The Kingdom's Secret Intelligence Department … really dared to say that?"
Raphael shook his head and said slowly,
"That's the truth.
"The status and function of the Kingdom's Secret Intelligence Department, the relationship between the two countries, and the strength and weakness of the two countries have long determined the consequences of the battle of Dragon's Blood.
"But most importantly, no matter how things develop, it is still within the acceptable range and does not exceed our expectations.
"Even if there is an accident, it is within the scope of the backup plan."
Thales snorted in disdain.
"Really?"
Thales took a deep breath and recalled the conversation he had with the Black Prophet about the consequences of power.
"Chapman is king, and his ambition is greater than Nuven's.
"Northland is rotten and chaotic, far more than expected.
"The prince is captured, the succession of the throne is in doubt.
"These are also within the plan?"
The two continued forward.
"Didn't we talk about it? It doesn't matter if Lampard wins or Nuven wins, they will still fight to the death, "Raphael said nonchalantly.
"After Dragon's Blood, Eckstedt will definitely shatter inch by inch, and it will be difficult to gather, just like now.
"As for Lampard's ambition, the situation in Northland, and your whereabouts …
"It's all within the plan."
'Alright.'
Thales sneered as he listened. He crossed his arms.
"What about the calamity?
"What if the Blood Octopus in Dragon Clouds City loses control, and the Queen of the Sky doesn't come?"
Raphael was silent for a while.
"Don't worry, we also have a backup plan."
The Barren Bone man said faintly,
"Even if the Great Dragon doesn't come, we also have an absolutely reliable way to completely suppress the Blood Calamity."
Recalling the power of the Mystic Giza, Thales smiled sarcastically.
'Is that so?
I highly doubt it. '
"Then, what about the Red Witch seeing through your plan and making use of her to lay an egg? What's the backup plan? "
"Since we are going to Dragon Clouds City, we will definitely have to fight the Secret Room head-on." Raphael did not panic.
"Being stopped by them is also within our expectations."
"Didn't you come out safely?"
Thales curled his lips and shook his head.
'It sounds like he's being stubborn.'
"What about when King Chapman entered Heroic Spirit Palace and prepared to gather the archdukes to join the coalition army to invade Constellation?"
The prince said coldly,
"Don't tell me that was also within your expectations?
"You also have a backup plan?"
Raphael did not even turn his head.
"Of course."
Thales shook his head in disdain.
He said sarcastically, "Yes, the backup plan is to make the little boy break into the chimney of Heroic Spirit Palace …"
Raphael suddenly stopped in his tracks!
They stopped.
Thales turned around, puzzled.
"This should be a top secret, but, Your Highness, since you are so suspicious …"
At that moment, the prince suddenly realized that the Barren Bone man's expression was extremely serious.
"Let me put it this way."
Raphael's red eyes stared straight at him.
"Do you think that if Lampard had successfully framed you as King Nuven's assassin and even persuaded the archdukes to send troops south, we would really have no countermeasure?"
Countermeasure …
Thales frowned secretly.
"Furthermore, you've been standing here for the past six years, thinking that you've saved the world by yourself and turned the tide …"
The prince's expression changed slightly.
Raphael's tone was very mysterious, with a very deep meaning.
"How did you know that on that day in Heroic Spirit Palace …
"An ally who secretly communicated with us and cooperated with us …"
Raphael said faintly,
"Only Lampard?"
His voice faded away.
Time seemed to stop at that second.
Thales was completely stunned.
Only Lampard.
What …
'What?'
In the quiet corridor of the Secret Intelligence Department, Raphael looked at the stunned Thales expressionlessly.
"It might not be very polite to say this, Your Highness.
"Even though your choice back then was quite bold."
Beside them, 'Oriental Beauty' Elva looked at them quietly from the portrait.
"But you were just one of the countless spare chess pieces in the chess game …"
Raphael narrowed his eyes and said in a profound tone,
"One of them."
Thales was stunned for a full ten seconds.
One of them?
At that moment, Thales felt like he had returned to the bloody storm six years ago and the hustle and bustle of Dragon Clouds City that night.
The calamity, Nuven's death, Black Sand's entry into the city, the Alliance of Archdukes, the South Constellation, the Archduchess, King Chapman …
But …
Old scenes flashed in his mind.
Thales felt his thoughts stiffen and stagnate.
Dragon Clouds City, Heroic Spirit Palace.
Everything in the past, like a beautiful painting, was just torn apart by Raphael.
But …
No.
One of them.
No!
Raphael looked at the prince's dazed expression, smiled in satisfaction, and turned around again.
But at that moment.
"Byrael."
The Barren Bone man turned around, puzzled.
"Anker Byrael, the assassin last night."
Thales looked up slowly, in a daze, and murmured.
"Raphael, I want to see him."
The prince frowned, looking slightly anxious.
"Now."
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