Chapter 607: The Start Of A Rebellion (Five)

“Your Majesty, Sirs.”

Lord Fabio Adrian, the chief commander of the Royal Guards, held an Everlasting Lamp and walked through the main entrance with a dignified stride. A few well-trained Royal Guards trailed behind.1

“Forgive me for the interruption, but it’s dinner time.”

Even though they were familiar faces, the sight of them fully armed and on high alert surprised

everyone.

“Fabio, you look pretty spry,” Duke Cullen casually adjusted his belt and shifted his stance, his eyes subtly tracking Adrian’s sword at his side, “all this just to tell us it’s time for supper?” “By your good grace,” Adrian wore a friendly smile and bowed deeply to King Kessel.2

“Please don’t be alarmed. We’re just here for a small training exercise. Now, if you, sirs, would be so kind, please calmly follow me as we make our way out.” However, an impatient voice broke in, “Fabio, what’s going on?”

Advisor Solder frowned as he glanced at the Royal Guards and the growing number of escorts gathering outside, particularly noticing their firm grip on their sword hilts.

“Why is there such a formation of guards here, and why so many—what’s going on?”

Lord Adrian gave a slight smile. He first glanced at the King seated at the head of the long table before replying politely, “It’s nothing, Lord Solder. We just moved up this month’s training exercise, that’s all—” But Solder wasn’t having it.

“Cut the crap, Fabio!”

The military advisor snorted,

“We served together in the regular army and went through the Bloody Year side by side. You and I both know this isn’t some routine drill bullshit. You’re addressing the entire Imperial Conference here; everyone in this room is part of the Kingdom’s elite. What is there that can’t be said?” This statement made many ministers who lacked military experience nervous.

As they spoke, the commotion outside Ballard’s quarters not only failed to die down, but it grew even louder. Orders and footsteps could be heard from time to time.

Captain Adrian regarded Solder with seriousness and let out a deep sigh.

He then glanced at the King, struggling to find the right words.

At the end of the council table, King Kessel remained composed, signalling for Adrian to approach. “Lord Adrian.”

Gilbert picked up on the hints and spoke gently,

“If there’s any issue, we can certainly cooperate—after all, we’re also hungry, aren’t we?” However, just as Adrian neared the council table, the footsteps outside the door suddenly became thunderous, almost deafening.

Then came the unmistakable sound of weapons being drawn!

“They’re here!”

“Defence Division, hold your positions!”

“Who the hell called in the sniper team?!”

“Protect His Majesty!”

“Fall back!”

The Royal Guards’ orders echoed one after another, each with its own urgency, each with a different tone. They nevertheless left Lord Adrian visibly shaken. With a quick turn, the Captain of the Royal Guards positioned himself to shield King Kessel.

Solder immediately reacted, subconsciously reaching for his waist, only to remember that his weapons were left at the palace gates.

The courtiers inside the room suddenly grasped the seriousness of the situation.

Duke Cullen agilely sprang from his chair, drawing a small dagger from his belt.

Gilbert held his cane firmly and rushed towards the King.

Kirkirk vanished with a swish, leaving only his backside sticking out from under the table.

Viscount Kenney took a step towards the door but then recalled something and hurried back to stand near the King.

Lord Krapen, though pale, kept his composure. Vicar General Guy closed his eyes, softly reciting

prayers.

“That’s enough!”

Lord Adrian’s roar rang out, freezing everyone in place.

With his command, the chaos outside the door came to a halt first.

Inside the Ballard Room, three sharp, muffled thuds resonated from the council table, hanging in the air.

There was a distinct cadence to the impacts, like a rhythmic drumbeat.

“Stay calm.”

King Kessel pulled back his hand, calmly observing the different reactions of the courtiers.

“It’s not like we haven’t been through this before.”

He remained seated steadily behind the council table, showing no signs of being rattled.

The courtiers, who had reacted hastily, began to collect themselves. Some flushed with embarrassment, while others felt awkward and hurriedly straightened their attire.

Gilbert let out a sigh and returned to his seat, while Prime Minister Cullen casually tucked the dagger, which shouldn’t have been seen in the first place, back into his belt.

Solder disdainfully bent down to retrieve Kirkirk, who had sought refuge under the table.

Everyone regained their composure. It was only then that they noticed the once spacious entrance to Ballard Room was now entirely blocked by the solid formation of Royal Guards. They formed an impenetrable barrier, concealing any view of the outside.

Each guard faced outward, presenting their backs to the ministers within.

The courtiers looked at each other in confusion, not understanding the situation.

“What’s going on, an assassination attempt?” Solder asked, showing his confusion.

“Adrian?” King Kessel voiced again, this time laced with annoyance and inquiry.

The Captain of the Royal Guards responded with an apologetic and ashamed smile.

“Sir!”

At the same time, a high-ranking Royal Guard squeezed through the human barrier formed by his comrades, looking highly agitated.

“Captain Adrian!”

Adrian’s expression darkened as he called out his subordinate’s name.

“Marigo?”

Marigo, the Vice Chief Vanguard of the Royal Guards, lowered his weapon and first shook his head in regret before respectfully acknowledging the other dignitaries.3

“Your Majesty, my lords.”

Adrian understood the message in Marigo’s actions and let out a sigh of distress.

“What’s happening outside?” The King’s voice came through steadily, echoing the thoughts of everyone in the room.

“Get them out of the way; don’t block it,” he ordered.

Adrian turned around, offering a bow and a strained smile.

“Your Majesty, it’s just a routine measure. We only need a minute…”

However, to everyone’s surprise, King Kessel, who had maintained his composure all day, suddenly raised his voice, angrily addressing the human barrier at the door.

“Royal Guards, make way!”

The guards were well acquainted with the King’s voice. Those blocking the door instinctively moved to the sides, revealing the front row of guards, and then the next, and the next… creating a passage that extended into the dimly lit corridor beyond.

Everyone in the room was left in awe by the sight beyond the door.

Only the King appeared as undisturbed as ever, his gaze icy.

Adrian could do nothing but sigh.

Outside, the Royal Guards stood in a dense and meticulously arranged formation, encircling the Ballard Room as if it were the epicentre of a defensive stronghold. They occupied every inch of space in the corridor.

Every guard wore a stern and watchful expression, their tension palpable as they faced deep into the corridor, as if the most formidable of adversaries lurked there.

The Renaissance Palace, typically bustling with activity, had fallen into an eerie silence.

Suddenly, from the depths of the corridor, from the far end of their line of sight, came an unusual sound—a series of crisp, echoing clanks that grew louder with each passing moment.

Inside the Ballard Room, everyone’s eyes widened in astonishment,

A towering and majestic horse treaded gracefully on the palace’s stone floor, steadily approaching towards the numerous guards and lamps that encircled it in the corridor.

The front-line Royal Guards members felt the most pressure, their hands gripping their sword hilts tightly as they slowly stepped back with the approaching horse’s hooves.

“What’s happening…” Lord Krapen began, his voice filled with disbelief, but he quickly closed his mouth.

This sudden silence fell over them because, around the black stallion, figures dressed distinctly from the Royal Guards were slowly coming into view before their eyes.

It was a small group of them, looking nervously clustered around the horse, moving forward with caution.

“I don’t like saying this, but I recognise that tall one,” Solder said with a furrowed brow, eyeing the group’s leader. The tall man in question was sweating profusely, his eyes darting around at the surrounding Royal Guards as he raised his hands.

“It’s the boy from the Karabeyan family. His father sent him off for military training, and it seems he earned some recognition. I even commended him during my time with the Western Desert

army…

Karabeyan?

The shock was evident on everyone’s faces.

“Damn, that’s the Glover family’s youngest.” Kirkirk narrowed his eyes, looking at the tall man’s side, an even burlier companion.

“Lozano asked me for a favour once, helping his little brother out with some lover’s spat down on Red Street Market…”

Glover

That family name heightened everyone’s suspicions.

“Ah,” Duke Cullen’s tone took on an intriguing rise as his gaze settled on another figure, panting and limping.

“That poor guy who duelled last night, from the Doyle family… What’s his name again? I think it’s Danny? David?”

Doyle

The collective mood turned even graver.

The small group of people was getting closer to the Ballard Room. The Royal Guards in front of them were doing little more than slowing them down, continuously stepping back.

“Hmm, now that you mention it, that horse… It’s coming back to me,” Viscount Kenney mused, his gaze fixed on the animal. He seemed puzzled as he continued, “I brought it along as a gift and a mount for Prince Thales when I went up to the Northland.”

Among the courtiers, Gilbert stood silent. His eyes were locked on the young swordsman up front, who held a single-edged sword and faced the Royal Guards with a nervous expression. It was as if something had shaken him.

But these unconventional intruders weren’t the main concern. When they finally spread out, revealing the person they had encircled, the air seemed to freeze.

It was a teenager.

In contrast to the anxious atmosphere around him, he strolled forward casually, seemingly without a care in the world.

At that moment, King Kessel, seated behind the council table, suddenly narrowed his eyes!

And in the Ballard Room, every minister gasped in shock.

“Is that the Prince?”

“Good grief…”

“The Duke of Star Lake!”

“Prince Thales!”

“That troublemaker’s at it again…”

“May the Sunset watch over him…”

Unnoticed by everyone, the scar-faced intelligence officer clenched his fist under his sleeve.

The King’s voice came forth in a hushed tone.

“Fabio Adrian.”

The Iron Hand King slowly pronounced the captain of the Royal Guards’ full name, his voice carrying a bone-chilling weight.

“What. Is. Happening. Here?”

The Ballard Room fell into immediate silence.

Lord Adrian’s figure tensed, then he slowly turned, offering a formal bow and responding in a dignified tone,

“Your Majesty, His Highness Prince Thales, missed his father dearly and, in his excitement, made a hasty move—a very hasty move…”

As he watched the imposing figure of the horse draw nearer, Adrian’s eyebrows shot up.

“Keep it simple,” the King replied slowly, his tone veiled but with a clear demand for simplicity. Adrian took a deep breath and continued,

“The Prince, being young, accidentally found himself within the palace gates…”

A sudden muffled thud—a light knock—immediately silenced Adrian.

“Clearly,” the Iron Hand King’s voice was barely audible, like a quiet breeze that had found words, gentle yet detached, “your boss here lacks the art of plain speech, Marigo.”

The second-in-command vanguard, Marigo, shivered slightly.

Adrian closed his eyes with a silent sigh, but the King’s demand couldn’t be avoided,

“You, answer.”

In the next two seconds, Marigo’s chest heaved. He shot a quick glance at his commanding officer, then, with clenched teeth, declared,

“Your Majesty, based on what I witnessed!”

Marigo took a step forward, anger in his gesture, pointing down the corridor,

“The Duke of Star Lake and his entourage of eight, without prior notice, unannounced, armed, trespassed into the palace grounds!”

“Their intent—unclear!”

Everyone was taken aback by the revelation!

Duke Cullen began to furiously scratch his own ears, as if questioning his own hearing. Gilbert, on the other hand, stared at Thales in sheer disbelief, his mouth agape.

In the Ballard Room, the atmosphere went from tense to downright frosty after those words.

“Uh…”

At the head of the long table, King Kessel’s eyes reflected Thales, who was slowly approaching. With a seemingly casual grunt, he remarked, “So, you just let him in like that?”

Marigo furrowed his brow, ready to respond, but Adrian was quicker,

“Your Majesty, the guards stationed at the palace gates today aren’t exactly known for their way with words. They’re quite rigid in their actions, and they had a clash with His Highness’s entourage—some heated exchanges and an even bit of shoving…” But the King’s voice cut in once more, “Marigo?”

The Vice Chief Vanguard cleared his throat, exchanged a hesitant glance with his superior, who wore a troubled expression.

In the end, Marigo voiced his frustration without any more hesitation, “Your Majesty, just a moment ago, Duke Thales tried to force his way into the palace. The gate guards, our fellow

comrades, stood ground dutifully, refusing to let him through. It escalated into a scuffle between the Duke’s men and ours, and both sides ended up with injuries—”

“Since you were diligently performing your duty,” King Kessel interrupted without mercy, his tone flat yet oddly unsettling, “how did he manage to get in?”

Marigo shuddered and immediately hung his head, unable to hide his embarrassment.

The courtiers’ gazes shifted back and forth between Thales, who was slowly approaching, and Marigo before settling back on the King.

“Marigo…” Adrian whispered softly from the sidelines.

But a single look from Kessel silenced Adrian’s words.

Marigo took a deep breath and, through clenching his teeth, continued,

“After the, well, the bloodshed, things became quite chaotic. A crowd quickly gathered at the palace gates…”

Adrian cleared his throat, taking on the delicate part of the conversation,

“The decision was mine. We had to allow His Highness inside to handle the situation within the palace. Otherwise, the whole city of Eternal Star would have witnessed it, and it would have been a stain on the Kingdom…”

Suddenly, the room shook as the King slammed his fist onto the table with a resounding thud!

He followed it up with a stern and icy rebuke, “And no one has witnessed it now?”

With those words, both Adrian and Marigo immediately bowed, dropping to one knee. Inside the chamber, the courtiers did not even dare to breathe loudly.

Just then, “Father!”

The unmistakable voice of a young man echoed from a distance,

“Why the anger?”

All the courtiers turned as one, realising that, at some point, Thales had come close enough for them to see his every move.

In that tense moment, the Prince’s voice surprisingly carried traces of laziness and nonchalance. What struck them as odd was that the Royal Prince was casually carrying a sword on his shoulder, its blade pointing backward. With each step he took, it swayed, directed towards the ceiling of the Renaissance Palace.

King Kessel frowned.

“Marigo, what happened?”

The second-in-command vanguard, well aware of his wrongdoing, was startled and unsure of how to respond.

Adrian immediately understood the King’s unspoken question and responded with the utmost respect,

“After we let him into the palace, we were about to restrain him, but His Highness immediately pressed the sword against his own neck with such force that it drew blood.”

The courtiers were shocked, and as they looked closer, they noticed the unusual streaks of crimson on Thales’ collar.

“He kept moving forward, the sword never leaving his neck, and we didn’t dare to make any sudden moves. To prevent any accidents, we had no choice but to step back all the way.”4

As the Royal Guards’ explanation unfolded, Duke Cullen’s gaze at Thales grew even more intrigued, while Gilbert’s concern deepened.

In contrast to his earlier fury, King Kessel didn’t respond immediately. He leaned back in his chair, his brow furrowed.

“So, these are my Royal Guards.”

The King exhaled. His tone returned to its previous calmness, but there was a hint of mockery in it,

“Now I understand how my father met his end.”

Everyone in the room held their breath.

Those words carried immense weight, and Lord Adrian could only lower his head, close his eyes, and sigh in apology.

On the other side, the younger Marigo, visibly frustrated and unwilling to back down, clenched his teeth and said.

“Your Majesty, please let us…”

But Thales’ words cut through once more, disrupting everyone’s thoughts, “Father!”

All eyes turned towards them: the Duke of Star Lake and his companions had somehow come to a halt, standing before a line of guards who were steadfastly refusing to step back.

Struggling to shift the heavy sword to his other shoulder, the Prince caused unease among the nearby Royal Guards.

He, however, paid no attention to the occupants of the Ballard Room, instead studying a nearby portrait: ‘Sand King’ Kessel the Fourth, fully armoured, mounted on a horse, gazing into the distance with unwavering eyes, the epitome of resolve and vitality.5

But Thales knew that a century ago, the ‘Sand King’ in the painting was heading towards…

A war destined to be lost.

“Isn’t this meeting dragging on a bit too long? Aren’t you all tired?”

Thales shifted his gaze back to the Ballard Room, using his hellish senses to get a clear view of King Kessel in the light of the lamps and the setting sun.

Disregarding the stern looks from the Royal Guards around him. he offered a slight smile and raised his voice, “Can we talk?”

In the Ballard Room, all eyes returned to King Kessel.

Behind the council table, the Iron Hand King stared coldly at his son for a moment before finally saying, “Let him in.”

Marigo hastily turned around,

“Your Majesty?”

King Kessel sneered, “I said, let him in.”

Adrian shook his head at Marigo and then issued orders to the Royal Guards, both inside and outside the room.

On the invaders’ side, the Prince’s attendant, Wya, gulped when he saw a gap in the Royal Guards’ defence line, “Your Highness?” Thales let out a breath.

“Stay put, all of you,” the Prince said with a grimace, feeling the soreness in his shoulder and the sting of the cut on his neck,

“Cooperate when the time comes; don’t put up a fight.”

Kohen, who was tasked with leading the way, had gone as pale as a sheet in fright and stammered, “Huh?”

Ralf, at the rear, also turned around, his expression less than pleased.

“Don’t worry, you’re still under my command. They shouldn’t…”

Thales paused for a moment, letting the rest of his sentence hang in the air. ‘Shouldn’t rough you up too badly?

Well, this still counts as a rebellion, doesn’t it?’

Surrounded by them—the Royal Guards stood in tight formation, still on high alert, as if they were expecting a major threat.

Close to Thales, his black mare, Jennie, seemed to pick up on the uneasy atmosphere and let out an anxious whinny.

“I get it; it’s pretty dark here, and 1 bet you don’t like it, huh?” Thales whispered soothingly to Jennie.

“Yeah, me neither,” Jennie whimpered, her distress fading into silence.

The Duke of Star Lake wiped the smile from his face, heaved the incredibly weighty longsword, and marched forward with confident strides.

Just like so many times before, he ventured forth all on his own.

The sudden approach of the Prince sent the surrounding Royal Guards scattering, like birds taking flight from the sudden commotion.

Thales could feel that as he stepped over the threshold and brushed past the Royal Guards, the vanguard named Marigo kept a keen eye on the longsword at his neck, muscles tensed as if ready to strike, but Adrian at his side held him back with an iron grip.

“Finally,” Thales exclaimed as he walked through the grand doors of the Ballard Room unscathed, and his eyes immediately locked onto King Kessel behind the council table.

“I must say, this journey hasn’t been a walk in the park,” he remarked.

Stopping before the council table, the Prince couldn’t hide his excitement. “You’ve been under tight protection, Father.”

“Even your own son, wishing to meet, must go through such bloodshed.”

King Kessel only stared at him coldly, his face betraying no emotion—as Thales had expected.

In an unusual move, the Prince paid little attention to the King. He looked around with curiosity.

In front of him, the council members gaped at him in astonishment, their expressions quite telling. Behind him, countless Royal Guards glared at him with bitter resentment, gritting their teeth in frustration.

“Indeed, Anker had it right…”

Without bothering to wait for anyone else’s reaction. Thales sighed audibly and gave the blade at his neck a little adjustment, speaking his thoughts aloud.

“It’s amazing how nobody pays attention unless you’re ready to take someone’s life.”

..your own life.’

He squinted as he turned his gaze back to King Kessel.

‘And not rebelling against a despot? Well, then they just run amok, thinking themselves as everyone’s darling.

‘What a messed-up world, huh?!’

“Your Highness!”

Inside the Ballard Room, Gilbert was the first to speak out, unable to contain his anxiety but trying to mask it with a forced smile.

“What are you doing…” he began.

Thales turned around, his eyes immediately lighting up.

“Gilbert, how have you been?” The Prince’s tone was bright, in stark contrast to the heavy atmosphere in the Renaissance Palace.

“Oh, guess what? Wya is back,” Thales added.

He casually waved his thumb over his shoulder, not really caring if he pointed in the right direction, and grinned.

“A father-son reunion—quite the tearjerker, right?”

For reasons unbeknownst to him, Thales, who had often felt the weight of the world settle on his shoulders when entering the Renaissance Palace, right then found himself strangely at ease.

It was as though he had finally unburdened himself of all his troubles.

Yet his newfound smile was short-lived.

Because in that moment, Gilbert’s expression told a whole complicated story. He stared at Thales’ face, then at the sword resting on his shoulder, as if he couldn’t decide whether to laugh, be sad, or just sigh in frustration.

It made Thales freeze for a moment.

“I get it, Your Highness!” Gilbert took a deep breath, briefly looked down, and when he met Thales’ eyes again, he was grinning from ear to ear.

“You’re not exactly thrilled about the news of your wedding,” he said, forcing a smile through his nerves. “I get that.”

As these words hung in the air, confusion befell many.

Thales himself was dumbfounded. “Wedding news? What weddi—”

“But there’s no need to be in such a rush!” Gilbert cut him off sharply while shooting frantic glances at Thales.

“I told him to wait for me at the palace gates, and I would explain everything…”

With a loud chuckle, Gilbert turned to the others, shaking his head. “But you all know how it is with these youngsters; not happy with who they’re supposed to marry, getting a bit antsy, and wanting to talk it out…”

“And our meeting dragged on for so long that His Highness couldn’t stand it any longer, so he…” Gilbert’s voice trailed off.

Thales blinked, slowly piecing it together, and a warm feeling crept into his heart.

‘But, sadly, Gilbert…”

“I see,” Vicar General Guy followed quickly, his smile staying casual as he nodded. “Marriage is indeed a serious affair. May the Goddess bless…”

Viscount Kenney, being from a noble household himself, joined in with hearty laughter. “Oh, absolutely, absolutely! We’ve all been young once; we understand…”

Prime Minister Cullen blinked, shaking his head with a grandfatherly demeanour. “I remember

His Majesty causing quite a fuss over marriage matters in front of the late king…”

The ministers in the Imperial Conference burst into laughter, forming a close-knit group, quickly easing the atmosphere in the Ballard Room.6

Most of the Royal Guards went along too, and before they knew it, they were chuckling, letting go of their tense postures.

But with a heavy heart. Adrian couldn’t help but notice that only two people stayed unfazed by the jovial mood.

King Kessel, without a hint of a smile, stared intently at Thales, as if no one else existed in the

room.

Thales kept up a forced smile, meeting the King’s gaze with a challenging glint in his eye, devoid of any warmth.

“Fabio, good job, folks. You were really on it. Turns out, it was a false alarm,” Advisor Solder breathed a sigh of relief and gave Adrian a thumbs-up. “But that exercise did the trick. I reckon we should reward our fellow…”

However, in a sudden turn of events, a sharp, metallic clash filled the air!

The Royal Guards, who were still on edge, reacted instantly, drawing their swords all at once! “Hold your positions!” Adrian bellowed loudly, quelling a potential conflict.

The guards, now aware of their hasty reaction, exchanged nervous glances and, under their superior’s stem command, reluctantly sheathed their weapons.

The courtiers in attendance were left agape, in disbelief.7

“Apologies, this thing is just too heavy,” the source of the noise, Thales, gasped heavily. He chuckled as he dragged the sword’s blade up from the floor. “No wonder they call it the ‘Load-Bearer’.

King Kessel squinted, making it harder to read his emotions through his narrowed eyes.

This unexpected interruption thoroughly disrupted the ministers’ efforts.

Gilbert’s expression, in contrast, only grew even more bitter.

Thales felt a twinge of guilt.

But he quickly brushed those feelings aside, taking confident steps forward and suddenly extending his hand.

In an instant, the weapons of several guards were drawn from their sheaths in a swift, synchronised

motion.

“Don’t worry,” Thales reassured.

But this time, he just grinned mischievously as he approached the council table, motioning for everyone to relax.

“I just wanted to get myself…”

The Prince plunked down into a chair, patting the shoulder of the person next to him and locking eyes directly with the Iron Hand King Kessel.

“…a chair.”

To his left, the Chief of Finance, Kirkirk, watched the Prince’s hand on his shoulder and mustered a smile that was more awkward than it was joyful.

Sensing the surrounding gazes filled with confusion and unease, Thales chuckled.

‘You know what?

‘Be it was in the Hall of Heroes or right here,

‘I always have to find my own darn chair.

‘I always have to swing a sword that’s way too heavy.9

‘Putting… my own life at stake.’

Thales stared straight at King Kessel, and it hit him suddenly—that heaviness and pressure he used to feel every time he met his father’s gaze…

Gone.

Sure, the King’s gaze was still sharp, but that slight sting, that ‘underlying pain’, was no longer there.

“Sorry for the interruption, everyone.”

Thales slapped his thigh, leaned on the council table, and grinned.

“I’m afraid we’ll have to wrap up today’s meeting a bit early.”

In the Ballard Room, be it the courtiers or the guards, they were all left bewildered, unsure of how to react.

The King’s gaze deepened even more.

Thales glanced out the window at the sky and couldn’t help but part his lips into a smile.

“Or… maybe it’s not too early after all?”

Suddenly, an odd sensation washed over him: on the modest table before him, there flowed ceaseless waves, their currents intertwining like threads being pulled back and forth.

And right now, as he stepped into this room, it was as if a ship had sliced through these waters, severing them cleanly.

At last.

“What are you up to,” King Kessel’s voice pierced the silence, his words deliberate and slow,

“Son?”

Son

That term made Thales feel strangely detached.

“Me?”

Thales paused, a genuine smile spreading across his face.

“I’m here to save you.”

The Prince’s cryptic response left everyone in the room baffled.

“Oh?”

Before the eyes of all, the Iron Hand King let out a half-amused sound.10

“Save me?”

He leaned back, blending into the shadows beyond the reach of sunlight, regaining his composure. As if, after venturing to the brink of anger and madness, he had returned to a state of utmost calm. “Yes, Father.”

Thales’ tone was relaxed and cheerful, as if he were savouring a candid conversation between father and son.

“I’ve come to set you free…”

The Prince, too, leaned back, bathed in the warm embrace of the setting sun.

Only his gaze suddenly turned ice-cold.

Like a sharp blade drawn from its sheath.

“From the burden of that crown.”

Thales couldn’t help but let a playful smile grace his lips as he gazed at the Iron Hand King.

crown

As soon as those words left his mouth, the courtiers turned pale, and the Royal Guards stared wide-eyed in disbelief.

Gilbert, his panic barely concealed, blurted out, “Your Highness!”

In that instant, King Kessel’s eyes flickered through various emotions, but they ultimately settled on one thing…

…directly at the Duke of Star Lake’s smile.

Thales raised an eyebrow, his smile faltering for a moment.

“Oh, my apologies, I forgot.”

Amidst the fearful and bewildered reactions of the countless onlookers, Thales quickly realised his error. He pointed to the King’s unadorned forehead with an apologetic smile.

“It’s not on your head today.”

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