Kingdom’s Bloodline
Chapter 613: Turning the Tables

“Trust you? The only way? There’s no better choice?” King Kessel thought about those words for a moment.

Thales controlled his breath and kept his eyes fixed on the King.

The King paused and let out a dry laugh.

“Hahahaha...”

His laughter was unsettling, and the lights around them flickered.

Thales unconsciously tightened his fists. He felt a heavy weight in his chest, and the air grew thick.

But he had no way out.

The laughter slowly faded.

“From what I’ve seen, Duke Thales of Star Lake Castle,” the Iron Hand King’s tone was calm, but it sent chills down Thales’ spine.

“The crown isn’t on your head.”

The mention of ‘the crown’ sent an inexplicable wave of fear through him, making his breathing

uneven.

“Even if we choose not to go down this path," the King said quietly,

“The wheels of the Kingdom will keep on turning.”

The young man pressed his fist against the table, feeling the pressure and pain in his knuckles and the unsettling unease from the Sin of Hell’s River.

He knew what really mattered to the other party.

He was sure of it.

Or did he just think he was?

Thales took a deep breath and raised his gaze.

“Of course, you are the supreme ruler of Constellation.”

The Iron Hand King's face remained unreadable.

“You can simply ignore me, scoff at the Western Desert, and veto this proposal with a single vote.” Thales changed the subject, his tone even.

“Either way, you’re very confident, and you hold more than just the ‘Sand King’ card.”

He nodded towards the letter on the table and went on steadily,

“Much like how you could push Zayen to take over the Western Desert or make the South Coast Hill serve your interests elsewhere."

King Kessel sneered in response.

“But at what cost?”

In the next moment, Thales redirected the conversation.

“To carry out the ‘Sand King’, Father, how much have you invested? What price have you paid?” As Thales talked, King Kessel’s brow creased slightly.

“Whether it’s the substantial upfront expenses, the substantial size of the royal regular army, or your long-standing efforts on the Western Frontlines...”

The Prince spoke calmly, with his words flowing naturally.

“Managing manpower, resources, finances, and the political intricacies behind the scenes—none of that is exactly an easy feat. Plus, the timing is exceedingly rare. We don’t see a hapless prince wandering the world every season, just waiting for you to use as an excuse and bait." The King responded with a dry chuckle.

“Had your plan succeeded and you’d reaped great rewards, these costs would seem inconsequential. But now, in the present circumstances...”

Thales paused for a second and met the King’s gaze.

King Kessel’s lips tightened, the strain evident on his face.

“1 would venture to guess that Master Kirkirk’s complaints about financial difficulties in the Imperial Conference and the Department of Finance’s budget shortages stem from...” Thales spread his arms towards the table.

“In essence, it stems from your deployment of the regular army for the Sand King, which has drained the national treasury, hasn’t it?"1

In that moment, King Kessel abruptly raised his gaze, his sharp eyes bearing down on Thales. The room felt suffocatingly tense.

“The chip, that Amos orphan girl.”

After a short pause, the King asked bluntly, “Where is she?”

The young man exhaled and glanced at Zayen’s letter, saying, "So, Father, it seems you’re not willing to simply let go of all the effort you’ve invested in the Sand King, denying yourself and discarding your past achievements."

The Iron Hand King’s expression grew colder.

However, Thales’ tone became more resolute as he stood up to the pressure and continued his thought, “Otherwise, Father, your so-called ‘Sand King’ plan would amount to nothing less than a tyrannical and detrimental pursuit."

“The costs will outweigh the gains, and the Kingdom will bear the burden through the ages.” At that moment, King Kessel’s eyes were at their iciest, conveying more than words ever could. The room’s Everlasting Lamps, as if sensing something, flickered rapidly; almost seemed like they were trembling.

“Looks like the sword Fakenhaz gave you is really something, huh?”

The King drew each word out with a meaningful and foreboding tone, “It made you a little too cocky, thinking yourself untouchable, didn’t it?”2 But the Prince just let out a bitter laugh, paying no attention to the King’s hints. “But it doesn’t end there.”

The Iron Hand King’s gaze remained locked on Thales, as if he could see right through him. Thales pressed on with conviction,

“After the last-minute failure of the Sand King...

“The royal family’s regular army reclaimed Blade Fangs Camp, laid down their weapons, withdrew, and ceased all hostilities.3

“The people of the Western Desert returned to their homes in low spirits, heads hung low, acknowledging their string of bad luck.4

“The Second Prince safely arrived in the capital, and father and son were reunited, with him being honoured as a duke.

“These peaceful appearances kept most of the Kingdom’s people in the dark. They slept soundly, ignorant of the truth."'

Thales narrowed his eyes.

“But, Father, you and Fakenhaz—if he’s the only one—all of you know about the undertow of the Sand King. You’re aware of what happened a few months ago and what didn’t.”

King Kessel stayed silent, his gaze distant, reflecting the flickering shadows of the lamps.

“When you crossed paths, you both saw the hidden daggers behind each other’s backs.

“But both of you are skilled actors and masters of self-control. That’s why you pretended not to know, greeted each other with smiles, and upheld the most hypocritical peace and the most fragile unspoken agreement.”

With a firm slam of his palms on the table, Thales caused the Everlasting Lamps to flicker.

"Believe me, Father, this is the last step between the Renaissance Palace and the Western Desert.” “Behind us lies a bottomless abyss.”

The Prince kept his gaze fixed on the King.

“Next time, you won’t be as lucky.”

King Kessel dropped his gaze, his thoughts a mystery.

One of the Everlasting Lamps behind him dimmed, shrouding the King’s face in darkness.

Thales took a deep breath and spoke earnestly,

“In the future, if you attempt to strip the Western suzerains of their armies and station the growing royal regular army, it will only come at a higher cost, and the situation will only become more challenging.”

King Kessel didn’t reply.

He simply turned his head, completely covering one side of his face in shadow.

“Face it, Father.”

“The failure of the Sand King left a colossal mess, pushing both you and the Western Desert to the edge of a cliff. There’s no way back unless you completely forsake any claim to the Western Desert.”

Thales paused, allowing both himself and the King to refleet.

It was then that the King’s voice echoed faintly, as if from a distant place, asking, “Who?” "What?"

Thales was puzzled.

“What do you mean, ‘who’?”

King Kessel’s expression grew intricate.

“When you left this morning, your mind was filled with thoughts of women.”

women

Thales eyebrows made their way up.

“At that time, you were lost, your mind elsewhere,” the King stated matter-of-factly. Light and shadow danced across his face as he continued, “You had none of the confidence and courage you have now.”

“The Kingdom, politics—all of these matters meant nothing to you this morning. It draws a very distinct line with your fearless venture into the palace and your speech before the court.”6 King Kessel leaned forward slightly, studying Thales with interest.

“What changed you out there, outside the palace?”

Thales found himself momentarily puzzled: ‘What changed me?’

Shaking off his reverie, he said through gritted teeth, “That’s far from the issue here.”

“The crucial thing is, Father," Thales stressed, aiming for sincerity, “that right now, in our most desperate hour, we have another choice.”

King Kessel’s lips tightened in response to Thales’ words.

Thales held back his Power of Eradication’s restlessness, moderated his tone, and probed further, “Fakenhaz made the first move, stepping back and offering their most powerful piece, strong enough to control the Western Desert.”

King Kessel turned his head, expressing his disapproval with a snort.

“Amos,” he grumbled.

The Prince nodded, keeping his gaze locked on the King’s as he added, “Consider it. Even if it doesn’t promise great profits, it does offer a chance to recoup some of Sand King’s considerable losses.

“Accept it. It may not offer a definitive solution, but it can minimise the worst outcomes."7 “Embrace it. Let me act as an intermediary, offering an opportunity for us and a way out for Western Desert."

The King chuckled softly, withholding judgment.

“Believe me, whether we look at it practically or from a long-term perspective, this is the only feasible path. It’s also the most efficient, straightforward, peaceful, and closest route to success.” Thales' words took on an unmistakable sense of urgency,

“If you want to see Sand King through, Father, and avoid it turning into a disaster, it’s not just the best choice—it’s the only one left.” Thales stated.

He looked straight at the King.

“For the sake of the Kingdom, Father, don't let rash decisions or prolonged procrastination guide your actions. Don’t wait until it’s beyond salvation.”*

“Let me take charge now. Let’s end it right away, before it’s too late.”

With his proposal on the table, Thales observed the King in silence. King Kessel stared back at him, his eyes thoroughly studying Thales, as if he aimed to discern every nuance of his expression. Thales felt a mix of hope and apprehension.

‘Good,’ Thales encouraged himself, intently observing the King’s reaction. ‘This is something he genuinely cares about. At least he still cares. Thank goodness he still does. Let’s hope he still cares.’

More than ten seconds passed before the King let out a soft snort.

“Quite fancy rhetoric, smooth talk,” King Kessel said, shifting his posture and speaking in hushed tones. “But you’re skirting around the most important part.’’'1

At those words, Thales couldn’t help but shiver.

The King turned his head and, with a somewhat playful tone, asked, “So, even if I were to agree to this proposal, why does Sand King’s execution have to be in your hands, Duke Thales?” in that brief moment, Thales’ eyelids twitched, and he instinctively gripped his knees.

“Because,” he said, taking a deep breath and meeting the King’s gaze, “because Fakenhaz has entrusted me with the key to the negotiations. And, naturally, as the intermediary, some compensation is expected.” King Kessel let out a soft snort.

“So, this is essentially a transaction.”

The King fixated his gaze on Thales, his tone taking a more menacing turn. “A... two-party transaction between Fakenhaz and myself.”

transaction

Thales clenched his fists.

“You can see it that way. But my presence is one of the conditions for Fakenhaz to agree to this deal," the Prince tried to reason, in an attempt to persuade the King, “From this transaction, you’ll gain, and I mean, gradually gain control over the Western Desert and fulfil the ‘Sand King.’ The price is just...”

In the next moment, King Kessel abruptly looked up, his eyes sharp as lightning, rendering Thales momentarily speechless.

“No,” the King said softly, sending a shiver down Thales’ spine. “You’re not just a guarantor or intermediary.”

Kessel’s gaze was like a piercing sword aimed directly at Thales.

“You, you are the real stake in this transaction.”

“Thales Jadestar.”

“The heir to the throne.’

Thales held his breath.

“In this arrangement, I’ll hand you over to him,” the King said, his words heavy with unease.

“Only then will he hand the Western Desert to me.”

"Isn’t that how it is?”

Thales furrowed his brow tightly.

‘Fuck it. I can’t just let this go.’

“Listen, Father,” he began anew, reorganising his thoughts. “I understand your concerns.”

Thales tried to find the right words.

"But please rest assured. 1 won’t interfere in specifics, participate in any governmental decrees, or even touch a single soldier’s record. My role will be limited to negotiating with the Western dwellers. It won't be too complex. A simple letter, a word about this bargaining chip, and with Fakenhaz’s cooperation, will help them quickly grasp the pros and cons.”

"You'll handle everything else—”

At that very moment, the King suddenly raised his voice, cutting off the Prince.

"And the people will realise! ”

Thales was startled. He noticed that King Kessel had straightened up at some point. Light and shadow blended on his face, weaving a tapestry of both brightness and darkness.

“The people will come to realise that within Renaissance Palace, beyond the King," the King emphasised, “there’s someone else.”

The stress on ‘someone else' left Thales breathless.

“No matter the issues they face with the King, whatever they might be...

“As long as they find this person...”

King Kessel stared at Thales intensely, as though he were grasping his throat through the air.

“Then the cost won’t be so high, and the situation won’t be so dire.”

The King squinted, and his tone was bone-chilling.10

"Because he has a sword.

“He can challenge the crown.

"Is that what you’re after?”

King Kessel’s words flowed with a dangerous undercurrent.

“The future... Thales the First?”

At that moment, Thales’s thoughts came to a standstill.

“So, is this also something you care about?”

A few seconds later, Thales took two measured breaths and spoke with effort.

“Be it sealing Mindis Hall, questioning my guards, or summoning me into the palace for warnings—was it all for this?

“To show everyone there’s no ‘someone else’ in the palace?”

King Kessel offered no response, just a cold snort as he leaned back in his chair.

“Hand over the orphaned girl, the bargaining chip.”

The Iron Hand King’s gaze turned piercing, his words uncompromising.

“As for your palace intrusion and treasonous plans, the punishment is death.

“Let the past remain in the past.”

Thales gazed at the King, his eyes filled with mixed emotions.

King Kessel closed his eyes, his expression serene. “As you said, before it’s too late.”

“Put an end to it.”

Thales held back his frustration and spoke through gritted teeth, “But what about me contacting the Western desert...”

King Kessel, however, gently raised a single finger, halting Thales.

“Leave it be,” the King said, his face devoid of emotion and his voice soft. “For your own good, after you hand over that orphan girl, you won’t need to do a thing. You won’t have to get involved, let alone meddle in it."

"Carry on; live your life peacefully as the Duke of Star Lake,” King Kessel added.

A sense of unease crept over Thales.

“That’s it,” the King stated matter-of-factly. "No need for any negotiations, and certainly no need for you to stand in the way.”

stand in the way

In the following moment, the King opened his eyes and shifted the conversation.

“If it goes like that, your guards in Mindis Hall...”

“And those loyal fools who tagged along with you into the palace to stir up rebellion...”

Hearing the veiled threat in his words, Thales' eyelids twitched.

King Kessel spoke softly, “won't have to worry about... getting ‘replaced.’” replaced

Both of them fell into silence, and the Ballard Room returned to its quiet state.

Suddenly, Thales understood the true concern of the King from the moment he had proposed this deal. It left him feeling somewhat worn out.

“I don’t get it,” Thales said with a shake of his head, a wry smile tugging at his lips. “Why does everyone, yourself and Fakenhaz included, can’t seem to look past that crown?” King Kessel glanced his way.

“Is it really so mysteriously precious that it can ensnare the souls of all who lay eyes on it? We’re clearly discussing the future of the Kingdom,” Thales lifted an eyebrow, his voice brimming with frustration. "And you, are you living for Constellation or just for that crown?”

King Kessel, unbothered, responded with a nonchalant chuckle, his lips curving into a sardonic smile.

“You don’t get it, perhaps because...”

“It’s not sitting on your head yet.”

Thales gritted his teeth.

In the next moment, the King’s expression hardened. “I’ll ask again: where is the orphan girl from the Amos Family?”

Thales clenched his jaw, ignoring the underlying threat in the King’s tone and forcing himself to stay calm.

He couldn’t convince the King.

At least, not like this.

It wasn’t enough.

Not nearly enough.

Thales took a deep breath.

He had to... give more.

Even if it meant giving himself.

With this epiphany, Thales shut his eyes briefly, only to open them again.

“What if 1 say ‘no’?” Thales asked.

The King raised an eyebrow and replied playfully, “No?”

Thales straightened himself, resolute, and declared, “That’s right. If you reject my terms, there will be no deal, no bargaining chip, no trace of the Amos orphan girl, no concessions from the Western Desert, and no active cooperation from Fakenhaz.”11

He scoffed in frustration. “You can bid farewell to your Western Desert.”

The King's gaze sharpened slightly.

"In that case, your intrusion into the palace and rebellion won’t be pardoned," the King threatened. “Exactly,” Thales affirmed without hesitation. “But, Father, you’ll also bear the brunt of a failed Sand King. You’ll find yourself in an unwinnable situation with the Western Desert slipping away from your grasp."

The King’s brows knitted.

Thales paused for a moment, then added with a light chuckle, “Of course, knowing your personality and methods, Iron Hand King, you won’t just give up. You'll come up with new ways to control the Western Desert, be it trickery or deception, never backing down until you achieve your goals.” 2

Thales grew more serious, “And then, in your next relentless attempt, you'll spiral into chaos and trigger a catastrophe in the Western Desert."13

“It’ll be like igniting an Eternal Oil barrel,” Thales concluded, looking directly at King Kessel. “Believe me, I’ve witnessed it before. It’s a sight that’s hard to forget.” The Iron Hand King’s expression turned frosty. "Are you trying to threaten me?”

Thales snorted and shook his head. "No, I’m simply showing you a glimpse of what Kessel the Fifth’s future rule could be like.”

Thales’ smile faded away.

“The Western Desert is just the beginning. When things spin entirely out of control and there’s no way to rein it in...”

“You'll eventually set the whole Kingdom on fire."

King Kessel’s expression darkened even further.

“Tell me, Father, do you truly want to...”

Thales paused.

He fixed his gaze on the King, took a deep breath, and carefully articulated each word, “Witness the next—the Bloody Year?”

Bloody Year

His words lingered in the room.

Silence enveloped them.

King Kessel remained quiet, still.

Only a pair of eyes gazed into the emptiness, capturing the flickering light.

He seemed indifferent.

Thales kept his intense gaze on him.

Until the next moment.

“You’re asking the wrong person," the King’s voice softly resurfaced.

“After all, you’re the one holding the trump card.”

Suddenly, Thales felt a chill run down his spine. The Sin of Hell’s River stiiTed in his veins, sending a sharp, painful jolt.14

It made him uneasy.15

“Maybe you should ask yourself this: ‘What if I decline your terms? What if I’m not willing to hand you the burden of the crown?’” The King’s words were slow and ominous.

"Would you rather clutch that bargaining chip and stand idle...”

“...As the stars come crashing down and the Kingdom goes up in flames?”

Thales reined in the surge of his Power of Eradication but couldn't help being taken aback. King Kessel tilted his head slightly, and his gaze was as sharp as a blade pointed at Thales. “Tell me, Thales Jadestar.”

Thales forced himself to meet the King’s gaze but couldn’t help swallowing hard. "Do you want to witness the Bloody Year with your own eyes while you are alive?” The King said it matter-of-factly.

“Believe me, I’ve seen it before.”

“It’s a sight that’s hard to forget."

Thales’ breath hitched. He had been about to retort but held his tongue.

The King let out a cold, mirthless laugh.

“See, if you truly understand what it means to be ‘live for Constellation’ you shouldn’t have doubts.”

“As for whether you’ll be the one to carry out the ‘Sand King’, it shouldn't concern you.”

Thales was left stunned by these words, unsure of how to respond.

"So, this will be the last time 1 pose the question.” The King’s voice gradually hardened. He was no longer indifferent, more like unsheathing a sharp blade.

“It’s also your last chance. The chip, the orphaned daughter of the Amos family. Where is she?” Thales hung his head, clenching his lips.

‘It’s not enough.

‘Nowhere near enough.

‘King Kessel won’t entertain my terms.

‘He won’t tolerate any ‘transaction’ that aren’t completely under his control.

‘The crown can't bear even the tiniest flaw.

‘The Kingdom’s interests, not even the looming Bloody Year, can change his mind.’ Convincing the Iron Hand King was a Herculean task—'no matter how persuasive or threatening I am, nothing will work.’16

Thales needed to do more.

More.

Much more!

The Sin of Hell’s River, it seemed, echoed his emotions, surging and coursing through his entire body.

“Thales, if you want io enter this circle and even climb to the top, the first thing you have to is io submit to power and let go of your body and mind. You have to let its world and its perception of ihe world rule every single inch of your being. You have to become someone that even you can't recognize. Only by doing so will you be able io start playing ihe game and excel in it. ”" submit Io power1*

let go of your body and mind

become someone that even you can't recognise

So, no matter whal, he had to play this card.

Even if it meant bringing about a catastrophe of no return.

In the midst of the enthusiastic roar of the Sin of Hell’s River, Thales took a deep breath and raised his head.

"Father, jusl listen—”

But in the next moment, his father gave a light hum and shook his head, cutting him off.

"Alright, 1 see where you’re coming from, boy.”

King Kessel’s eyes flickered, and he simply said,

“Byrael.”

Thales was baffled.

“Whal?"

The King idly stroked his hand and thought aloud.

“That's the name of the assassin who broke into the banquet and challenged you to a duel, right?” Thales clenched his flsts.

‘Byrael.

■Whal?’

“I’m guessing it’s because Fakenhaz handed you that sword, that bargaining chip, and that orphan girl. That’s why you gained so much confidence, daring even to break into the palace and plot treason for your goals."19

King Kessel softened his tone and regained his calm.

“But you weren’t like that from the start—at least not when you left this place. You were a completely different person then. So, the very thing that boosted your confidence must be something you only obtained during your time out of the palace." Thales’ heart skipped a beat.

“As for that assassin who gate-crashed the banquet,” King Kessel continued nonchalantly, his fingers casually stroking the back of his hand, "he just so happened to be one of the people you met in the Secret Department shortly after you left the palace today.”

“And out of those people, he also just happened to be one of the few capable of discussing the Kingdom’s politics with you, and, coincidentally, he’s from the Western Desert.”

“That Amos orphan girl and the Four-Eyed Skull, well, they also just so happened to come from the Western Desert.”

“Midler once said: Politics knows no coincidences.”

In that instant. Thales found himself at a loss.

‘What...’

King Kessel raised his head and looked at Thales, his lips curling into a cold smirk,

“So, this explains why, at your homecoming banquet, the assassin chose to surrender instead of taking his own life after his mission failed.”

The King stared at Thales, much like a hunter observing his prey,

"Because he placed his hope in you.”

“He hoped that the renowned compassionate Thales would come to find him afterward.”

"To entrust Fakenhaz’s true weapon, the bargaining chip that could alter the fate of the Western Desert—the Amos orphan girl—to you.”

Thales struggled to keep his emotions under control, and beads of sweat began to form on his forehead.

The King’s gaze grew sterner. "And only to you.”

‘To challenge me.”

‘To change the tide.”

Thales’ breath quickened when he heard this.

‘That can’t be.

‘No way.’

His bargaining chip, the only card he could an use to bargain with King Kessel...

Just like that, it was easily overturned by his opponent?

King Kessel chuckled and turned his gaze away from Thales, as if the latter had lost his significance.

“It’s fine. Moral will get everything out of him,” King Kessel calmly stated,

“Even that orphan girl.”

getting everything out

Thales' pupils slowly expanded.

Byrael.

Anker Byrael.

“Thankyou, Your Highness, “

“Thank you for keeping your promise andfor taking the time to come here, to listen to me—or to hear my final words. ”

“Though there's no sunlight here... It doesn't seem so bad. does it? ’’

‘No.’

With that in mind, Thales inhaled deeply and clamped his teeth down firmly.

“No, you're mistaken. Fakenhaz and I have a secret communication channel—’’

‘Then it's someone else,” The King didn’t waver, quickly cutting him off. “The people you met today.

“It doesn’t matter. Knowing that this orphan girl is alive is enough.”

The King didn’t even spare him a glance.

"Whether it’s the people you met after leaving the palace or the places you went, the Secret Department will know what to do.” people... you met places you wenl

Lilian, Yanni, the Abandoned Houses...

‘No.’

Thales couldn’t believe it, his breathing grew stiff.

King Kessel raised an eyebrow and spoke nonchalantly.

"Don’t worry, that orphan girl will soon regain her title with the royal family’s support and become

Amos Town Baroness.

“Her family name is destined to be written in history.”

The King added playfully,

“If her father could know, even alter his passing, perhaps he’d be proud of it?” written in history—Thales felt momentarily lost.

“And whal would have been the cost. Your Highness? "

“The Byraelfamily will become the scapegoal and the target of public criticism,"

“Tina... She will never, ever, ever forgive me. ”

‘No.

‘No!’

Thales suddenly looked up!

Under the influence of the Sin of Hell’s River, an overwhelming surge of anger welled up in his chest.

The young man no longer concealed his emotions; instead, he stated at the King with anger in his

eyes.

“Are you even listening to whal I’m saying at all?” Thales spoke through gritted teeth.

“So, all this talking just to find out how I came to know about the Amos’ orphan girl?"

King Kessel responded with a light snort, showing no concern.

’Thank you, child, but your job is done.”

“Oh, and by the way, whoever decided to play a part in this little charade,” the King’s tone was calm, but his words had a cutting edge, ‘They’ll pay the price for your foolish actions." Thales took a deep breath.

Wya, Ralf, Doyle, Glover, and even Kohen, whom he had tricked into coming...

‘No.’

“You can't do this," the Prince strained to say.

“Remember, I gave you a chance—many even," King Kessel coldly pointed out, not even looking at him, "you abandoned them yourself.”

He casually reached for the lever on the table to signal those waiting outside.

“Now, get out of my meeting room,” he ordered with a low voice, bringing the conversation to an end.

“Go and ask Vanguard Marigo how many lashes one should receive for trespassing into the palace and affronting the King.”

At that moment, Thales felt a chilling coldness creeping over his bones.

Drifting Sands Palace, Ruins, Western Desert

“Yo, Scarface, come on over and play some chess with me!” Duke Fakenhaz, standing by the window, tightened his cloak and beckoned to the Barren Bone man who stood hidden behind a pillar.

The tall and sturdy Barren Bone man turned his head, his braided hair swaying as he did. Nearby, a young guard, uneasy at the sight of the sawtooth tattoos adorning the Barren Bone man’s body, cautiously rested his hand on his sword hilt but was halted by a more experienced comrade.

The Barren Bone man strode past the tense young guard, paying him no mind, as if such situations were routine. He reached the Duke of the Western Desert, plopped down roughly in a chair, and cast a critical eye on the chessboard placed between them.

Fakenhaz. delighted, extended his hand as an invilalion for the game.

Gotham, the Barren Bone man, shook his head, his words brusque and challenging to decipher.20 “Gotham, happened not.”

With a sigh, Fakenhaz quickly waved it off, “1 know, I know. Why else would I have sought you out?”

Gotham appeared briefly puzzled, then glanced at the chessboard, followed by a disdainfill look towards the Duke. He pointed towards the moon, faintly visible through the sandstorm outside the window.

"Little Raven Head, go, chase."

Though Gotham’s words were rugged and cryptic, Duke Fakenhaz didn’t seem fazed as he shook his head.

“No, no. Let Derek go. He needs to get back to Wing Fort for important matters," the duke muttered, his gaze resentful as it settled on the record book chronicling their afternoon of games.

“And, honestly, why chase him back? 1 can't best him."

“Little Bone Cub, join, chase.”

“I’m the one who taught my son to play chess, and playing against him now... has lost its appeal."

Fakenhaz enthusiastically clapped his hands.

“Come, lei’s play!”

Gotham huffed with irritation and made a random move on the chessboard.

“Oh, come on, Scarface, why’d you move the queen first? That’s not how it works, but no worries;

watch this... I’m taking it now!"

“Hmph.”

“Tsk, tsk, tsk. Not a smart move on your part; you basically handed me a piece on a silver platter.

Click'. Hahaha!”

"Gotham, no, get.”

“That’s okay if you don’t get it now. You’ll catch on after a few losses...’

“Gotham, food."

“Don’t go! Just have the servants bring you whatever you want to eat and drink. Come on, check

out my move.. "Gotham, kill!

“Ah, come on, don’t get upset. Scarface. It’s just a chess game. Winning or losing doesn’t really

matter.

They continued playing, and Fakenhaz thoroughly enjoyed the game. Before long, the chessboard was strewn with Gotham's captured pieces.

After his final move, the duke grabbed Gotham’s hand with a satisfied grin and toppled his king piece. He leaned back in his chair and let out a contented sigh.

“Ah, it’s been a while since I’ve had such a glorious victoty! Fantastic! Fantastic! Fantastic!” Fakenhaz settled back in his chair, shaking his head with a smile.

But the Barren Bone man kept a close eye on Fakenhaz, who wore a rather satisfied expression, and grumbled under his breath, "Bone Cub, kill.”

With those words, Fakenhaz’s smile faded in an instant. The Duke straightened in his chair, his face contorting into a disturbing, menacing look, while Gotham, refusing to back down, held his

gaze.

A few moments later, the Duke of the Western Desert burst into an awkward chuckle, waving his hand dismissively, “Nonsense, I'm just playing chess. Why would I kill someone for no reason?" However, Gotham shook his head, his eyes taking on an ominous gleam. The surrounding guards couldn't help but feel uneasy.

“Bone Cub.” the Barren Bone man intoned sternly, “kill, big kill.”

Fakenhaz’s smile once again stiffened, and he pointed at Gotham, shaking his head in disbelief.

“You..."

“Bone Cub, lie,” Gotham hissed through gritted teeth, his expression suddenly turning fierce. “Gotham, kill! Kill!”

The unusual behaviour of the Barren Bone man put the Duke’s personal guards on edge until Fakenhaz waved his hand, signalling that everything was under control.

The suzerain of the Ruins sighed.

"Alright, I’ll be honest,” Fakenhaz admitted as he steadied the chessboard, his gaze penetrating into the distance.

“Just feeling a bit agitated, I suppose.”

‘Only you can tell, Scarface.’

The Guardian Duke of the Western Desert gazed out of the window, his thoughts drifting.

“You know, waiting is the most trying part,” he said.

Gotham's face twisted into a cruel smile, “Kill?”

The duke dismissed it with a shake of his head, "Oh, even killing wouldn’t lift my spirits, either.” Gotham visibly deflated and muttered something before leaving.

’Tell me. Scarface.”

As Gotham turned around, Fakenhaz unexpectedly broke the silence.

“Have you ever tried gambling before? It’s like... You bet money on a guess. If you’re right, you win."

The Barren Bone man wrinkled his brow, thought for a moment, and then shook his head. “Gotham, no."

Fakenhaz sighed, “Alright, you must have seen others do it, though, right? 1 mean, before you opened the prisoner’s column and helped me escape from the Sharlurn Tribe?”

Gotham thought carefully, his expression growing serious.

Seeing Gotham’s reaction, Fakenhaz softened his tone. “Alright, no need to push you..."

“Fifty-eight water flows ago," Gotham suddenly interjected, “Caligri, beast cage.” “Luma, bet."

Fakenhaz’s face lit up with interest as he rapped the table before him.

Gotham took his seat once more.

"Alright, so when your tribe visited Caligri, you had a go with those beast cages... Who did your brother bet on? Tribal warriors? Slaves? Exiles? Desert bandits? Orbeasts?”

The Barren Bone man’s gaze turned icy.

“Gotham, kill."

Fakenhaz’s eyes widened.

"Hah, your brother made a bet, and you personally fought to the death?" Gotham nodded.

"Look at these tattoos of yours. How many did you end up killing?”

Gotham stood up, pulled aside a part of his clothing, and pointed to several jagged tattoos, almost like he was showing off a collection.21

“Eight? Impressive!”

Fakenhaz sighed and remarked, “I guess you all made a pretty penny, right?”

However, Gotham stayed silent for a moment, then shook his head.

“Luma, lose.”22

“Whal?”

Fakenhaz frowned in confusion.

"But you’re still here, huh? How did your brother end up losing? Did he make the wrong bet?” Gotham’s expression darkened.

“Chieftain, bet, Blood Thom Lizards,” he replied.

Fakenhaz’s smile slowly faded.

“Oh, your chieftain had you and your brother fight against each other, didn’t he?”

The duke sighed and speculated, “That was the highlight of the show. My guess is that he wanted to attract bigger bets and make a good profit.”

Gotham clenched his teeth, his cheeks trembling.

“Luma, no.”

“Gotham, no."

Fakenhaz nodded in understanding.

“Of course, since you refused, you had to face the loss?”

The Barren Bone man paused for a moment and then looked up with difficulty.

“Chieftain, kill. Cage Master, kill. Holy Chief, kill. Tribe, big kill. Sand Servant, bigger kill," he said sombrely.

The duke shrugged, commenting, “Yes, that’s what 1 thought too. Everybody was probably pretty unhappy, especially those who placed bets. 1 heard someone talking about it." He snorted softly.

“Your chieftain set up a beast cage; maybe he even took bets, but it seems like it didn’t go as planned. It must have cost him a pretty penny."

Gotham stayed quiet for a while, then simply shook his head, his gaze filled with dread. "Chieftain poor. Luma, payment, life." Fakenhaz hesitated.

Gotham clenched his teeth and, visibly shaken, looked up. He uttered, “Gotham, punishment, life.” The Duke of the Western Desert chose not to respond verbally. Instead, be sighed and placed a reassuring hand on Gotham’s shoulder.

Gotham turned his gaze towards the unseen, his expression twisted with ferocity.

"1 remember now. Your bastard old chieftain,” Fakenhaz’s eyebrows twitched as realisation dawned. “That unlucky fellow who you axed from bottom to top, from head to ribs, who only met his end after wailing in agony until dawn?” Gotham scoffed but didn’t reply further.

Fakenhaz chuckled. “Well done, Scarface. You’ve avenged your brother.”

Gotham remained silent for a while before he suddenly raised his eyes and questioned, “Bone Cub, bet?"

Fakenhaz was taken aback for a moment but soon nodded in agreement. “Yes, I’m betting loo," the duke declared, grinning as he looked eastward.

“We’re placing our bets on another round... Bloody Thom Lizard.”

Gotham raised his eyebrows in response.

“Tsk, tsk, isk.” The Duke of the Western Desert said, shaking his head, “The bets—how should I put it—have been going on for a good six years.” Fakenhaz gradually lost himself in thought.

The Barren Bone man, on the other hand, showed a growing intensity.

“Gotham, kill. Bone Cub, bet.”

“Absolutely,” Fakenhaz responded with a smile, “If it were about taking lives, Scarfacc, I’d definitely pul you up for a bel."

“Bui no. it's not."

The duke’s gaze sharpened, “The core of this gamble isn’t about killing. Il's a bet on whether our Gotham, there in the capital, is willing to risk everything.”

Gotham seemed puzzled.

“Bet on him, on whether he's ready to go all in, just like your brother.” Fakenhaz’s tone grew colder. He swept his hand across the table, knocking ihe chess pieces down.

“Staking his own life.

“In exchange for yours.”