Chapter 615: Bound to Fail

King Kessel paused for a moment and then broke into a soft chuckle.

“Me?”

The King set his knife aside, his interest apparent, though his words carried an icy edge. “Let me guess, Fakenhaz happens to share the same sentiment?” Thales shook his head.

“When the branches rot and the leaves wither, one must question the very root.”

“If your rule falters, Your Majesty, the first to bear the consequences in this Kingdom, the first to reflect and be held accountable, is undoubtedly, and can only be, you.”

A scornful laugh from the King filled the room. His head down, still dining.

Thales smiled back, undaunted.

“Yes, you probably believe that if the Kingdom’s governance falls short, if the course of the realm encounters challenges, it must surely be due to administrative errors or inefficiencies in lower-level governance. A few minor adjustments can set things right without compromising your grand governance strategy, nor will it compromise the wisdom of your trusted nobles, or your own insight, for that matter, right?”

“Just like the ‘Sand King’—in your eyes, how could it ever go awry?”

“It must be a lack of daring in those carrying out tasks; it must be mistakes during execution; it must be the cunning of our adversaries; it must be unforeseen hiccups happening more often than not; it must be… of course, that unlucky Prince’s fault.”

“But,” Thales’ smile lost its warmth.

“Only the most ordinary, good-hearted folks would cling to such idealistic beliefs.”

“And only the sneakiest and most malicious types could spew such devious lies.”1

Thales pointed at the King and spoke earnestly,

“No, the ‘Sand King’ failed for no other reason than you. Your Majesty. King Kessel.” The clinking of a knife against the plate served as a response to his words.

“Sure,” as if confident in his standing, King Kessel didn’t even bother lifting his head, and his words matter-of-fact,

“So. 1. the King of Constellation, am the weakest link in this Kingdom?” But Thales shook his head decisively.

“Quite the opposite. Your Majesty.”

Thales emphatically set a spoon down on his plate,

“In reality, you are the linchpin at the heart of the Kingdom—the strongest one.” King Kessel’s knife sliced through the food on his plate, cutting it in two.2 He gently raised his head, and the tip of his knife met Thales’ gaze.

“But that’s precisely why it failed.”

The Prince spoke in a calm, just the same matter-of-fact manner, as if he were stating the obvious, “Your Majesty, it is precisely because you are too powerful, too outstanding, too wise, too terrifying, and too decisive.”

King Kessel looked at Thales at the tip of his knife and fell silent briefly.

“Flattery won’t absolve you.”

Thales shook his head, spooning a mouthful of the mysterious soup into his mouth.

“Think about it, Your Majesty. Before the ‘Sand King’, from the Desert War to this very day, from Blade Fangs Camp to Blessings Town, from the ‘State of Emergency Control Order” to the ‘Tax Exemption for the Opening Up of Border Counties’, and from the Legendary Wing to the regular army, how much have you accomplished in the Western Desert? How many times have you made moves against them, and how often have they clenched their teeth in frustration with no recourse?” Thales lifted his head, his voice gaining intensity.

“And at what point have you become their primary threat, surpassing even the treacherous desert itself as the biggest challenge to their survival?”

Across the long table. King Kessel’s eyes focused on the knife’s tip.

“So much so that, today, before you even think of taking action, the Westerners have already prepared hundreds of contingency plans. Their every thought revolves around countering the threat from the Renaissance Palace. Even in their dreams at night, they picture scenes of the royal army marching into the Western Desert.”3

“Given these circumstances, Your Majesty, be it the army, taxes, territory, or governance, regardless of what you aim to acquire from that land, the Westerners are determined not to let you have your way.”

Thales stated with a steely tone,

“So, how could the ‘Sand King’ ever succeed? How indeed?”

This time. King Kessel fell into an unusually long silence.

Eventually, the King looked up slightly and said,

“You are overestimating them.”

Thales, with a faint smile, nodded in response.

“Is that so?”

“So, do you think when you sent the army westward, everyone genuinely thought it was a mission

to rescue me?

“Do you think the suzerains of the Western Desert were truly lured by your bait, oblivious to the underlying plot?”

“Do you think the main forces of the Three Great Clans escaped the trap only because the Legendary Wing took his sweet time?”

“Do you think the Secret Department and the regular army’s mishaps were solely due to their shortcomings?”

“And who do you think, you or Fakenhaz, actually found me first in the desert, gaining the upper hand in the ‘Sand King’?”

In that moment, King Kessel’s gaze turned keener.

Thales sat upright and spoke with seriousness,

“No, it’s you. instead, who underestimated them. Your Majesty.”

“King Kessel.”

King Kessel didn’t voice an opinion, but his eyes showed something akin to uncertainty.

“1 know, I made the same mistake.”

Thales drifted into a moment of reflection, recalling a past incident.

“Months ago, when I escaped Dragon Clouds City, I believed my plan flawless and that no one could see through it. With the Kingdom’s Secret Intelligence Department’s help and the complex political situation, in such a bizarre set of circumstances and impeccable timing, it was only natural for anyone to suspect that Prince Thales had been kidnapped by Dragon Clouds City’s forces rather than making a quiet getaway.’’4

Thales let out a deep sigh.

“But, to my chagrin, I still got caught—on the very first day after my escape from Dragon Cloud City.”

King Kessel’s gaze shifted.

Thales reached out with his left hand, rubbing an oddly shaped bone, his brows furrowing as if he could still feel the pain of it cracking.

“I was caught in Dragon Cloud City by a brute who might just be one of the Western Peninsula’s finest swordsmen but with the incontestable political IQ of the world’s lowest,” Thales added with a wry smile.

“Even though it later turned out that the logic the Star Killer used to track me was just cut-and-paste nonsense—screw that Rilan hard paper.”5

Thales raised his head, his gaze serious, looking straight at the King,

“So, much like you, I’ve cursed my bad luck countless times, cursed the person who blew my cover, and cursed the shitty logic that bizarrely worked in his favour, but I never once doubted my own plan or reflected on my responsibility.”6 King Kessel continued to listen in silence.

“I messed up,” Thales admitted, with a sigh that carried both acceptance and frustration.

“No matter how clever my strategies were or how brilliant my plans seemed, it was bound to happen that he’d catch me right at that moment, in that very place.”

“Because, you see, for the entire six years I spent in Dragon Clouds City,” Thales held his left arm tightly, his mood growing heavy. “Soray Nicholas, the Star Killer, saw me as his most formidable and dangerous opponent.”

‘Tn the face of the unexpected, he would suspect me; when under attack, he would be wary of me; if things went wrong, his gaze would turn to me; if 1 suddenly disappeared, I would still be the first on the list of suspects. Even if it was something as mundane as a sewer pipe clogging in the Heroic Spirit Palace,” Thales grumbled with some irritation, “in his eyes, I had to be behind it, a part of my supposed six-year-long grand conspiracy.

“That’s why I got caught, and I almost found myself back in Dragon Clouds City.”

Gazing into the unseen distance. Thales reflected, “Later on, I came to realise that I became his target because I had entangled myself in a web of my own making, because in that Dragon’s Blood night, with my ‘wild’ actions, I had made myself into the most terrifying, enigmatic, and potentially volatile element in the eyes of others, someone who, single-handily, could even change the entire fate of Eckstedt.”7

The King listened quietly, keeping his thoughts to himself.

“Similar dynamics play out in the Western Desert,” Thales returned to the present with a heavy sigh. “Especially when they view you, Your Majesty, as their most formidable adversary.” King Kessel pursed his lips.

“Them’!’’ his reply was curt, “you mean those self-serving, fat greedy cats, short-sighted, crumbling nobles? That pile of loose sand can’t even come together under one banner without bickering among themselves.”8

Thales’ tone sharpened.

“Then it’s even less likely that they’d readily bow down and follow your every command!” Kessel held his chin up confidently.

“They will follow.”

King Kessel’s gaze turned piercing, and his voice grew resolute, leaving no room for doubt.

“They must.”

“They have no choice.”

A faint smile crossed Thales’ lips.

“Oh right, just as King Nuven had thought that all it took was a bit of bloodshed and some political cunning to make the bitter folk of the Alliance of Freedom bow their heads and blindly follow Eckstedt’s commands from then on, and definitely not turn on his granddaughter and shake up the entire political situation in the Northlands a decade or so later,” he said somewhat sarcastically.

The mood shifted in the next moment, with the young man’s face turning cold and his tone changing.

“But do you genuinely think that as long as you’re powerful enough and your methods are cunning enough, everyone will automatically bow and bend to your will?”

He continued with pointed questions.

“Then why didn’t you outright declare that the Western Desert was teeming with traitors and rebels from top to bottom and order the Regular Army to wipe them out to secure our borders?”

“Why did you go to such lengths to sidestep the Imperial Conference and quietly advance with the ‘Sand King’?”9

“Why did you use me as a well-known chess piece and bait?”10

Thales paused briefly, holding the King’s gaze and addressing him by name.

“Because you, too, arc well aware of this truth, Kessel.”

The King frowned.

Thales met King Kessel’s intense gaze, realising something crucial.

Unlike his previous opponents, this time around, he couldn’t just charge at the Iron Hand King with a sharp sword in hand.

“In the face of authority, one man may be willing to work with you; he may be loyal and obey you,” Thales said, reflecting on past conversations. “But when there are thousands or tens of thousands of people? It’s like confronting a giant creature with a bottomless appetite and a shark that is always after more prey. They will always surprise their ruler and react in ways that you are unprepared for.”11

Thales pointed over his shoulder, emphasising his point, “If you were to order Marigo, the Vice Chief Vanguard, to whip me, I’m sure he wouldn’t even bat an eye.”

“But if your command were directed at a group, say the entire Royal Guards, I can equally assure you that there would be some hesitating, some questioning, some struggling to follow, and some openly or secretly opposing it.”12

In that moment, Thales’s thoughts went back to the grim Prison of Bones in the Western Desert. He remembered the faces of the former guards.

King Kessel kept silent, his eyes still locked on Thales.

Thales cleared his throat, bringing himself back to the present, and went on, “When your troops wreaked havoc in the Western Desert, Your Majesty, did you ever think that just a few months later, a son of a Western Desert noble would sneak in with a sword, disrupt a banquet, and attempt a murder, throwing the entire Kingdom into disarray and catching you unprepared?”

“And when the Sand King’s efforts failed and you found yourself cornered in the court with no answers, did it ever occur to you that the Western Desert’s master would take a daring gamble on me, offering you a way out against his own interests?”13

King Kessel remained silent, his expression growing tenser by the moment.

Thales eased back into his chair, his gaze drifting up to the ceiling and his thoughts falling into place.

“You see, as a ruler, Your Majesty, your subjects are countless, from the influential noble families to the outlaws in Blade Fangs Camp. But the thing is, they’ll never, ever, ever follow your orders to the letter.”14

The King narrowed his eyes, noting, “Those aren’t your words.”

Thales lowered his gaze, meeting the King’s eyes without flinching. “Yet it’s a fact you can’t escape; some things are just beyond your control—‘Sand King’ is just one example, and this goes beyond the Western Desert.”

Thales pushed his plate aside and rested his arms on the table, much like stepping back onto a battlefield, retracing his steps to where he had stumbled.

“Sure, Amos’ orphaned daughter might offer some short-term relief for your problems, and the Three Great Clans may reluctantly comply to avert impending ruin. But what comes after that? What comes after that?”15

Thales’ expression grew solemn as he reiterated, “What comes after that? “What about beyond the Western Desert?

“What about the Land of Cliffs, the Eastern Sea, Blade Edge, and the Northern Territory? After military reforms, as you grow even mightier, daring to push boundaries, and inevitably making more and more enemies along the way.”

Thales’s voice carried intensity, “Do you really expect another Fakenhaz, another gutsy risk-taker old fossil, to come along and by pure chance hand you the chips, ready to be played?”16

The Iron Hand King continued to gaze steadily at Thales, silent, but with a change in the emotions in his eyes.

“As for, as for this letter…”

Thales reached for the long-forgotten ‘Petition of Jade City on Alternatives to Service’ with a wry smile on his face.

“Tell me. Your Majesty, do you honestly believe that the Master of Iris Flowers, the Guardian Duke of South Coast, the young Zayen Covendier, is as refined and reasonable as he portrays? And that this makeshift, subpar horse will effortlessly guide the chariot from South Coast Hill to bring about the desired outcome—your desired outcome—for the entire Kingdom?” In the next moment, the King’s expression changed.

Thales tore the letter in half without a second thought, prompting King Kessel to finally speak, his shock and anger thinly veiled. “You—”

But Thales dropped his smile and cut him off.

“Trust me. Your Majesty, even if you were to march the regular army into Jade City’s Crystal Palace, the cunning Zayen—you know the methods he used to set the vampires on my tail back then—can still pose quite a challenge, no less formidable than in the Western Desert.

“And this is only the Western Desert, only the South Coast, just with the powerful local lords who are less than thrilled about your plans, actively thwarting and resisting them.

“But next time, in other places, countless others, driven by the same reasons and concerns, will come up with even more intricate and unexpected methods to undermine or oppose your goals.” Thales stood firm, tearing the letter to shreds without hesitation.

“It’s not just about the ‘Sand King,’ the military matters, the suzerains and vassals, or even the Imperial Conference.

“Going back a bit. there’s the National Conference from six years ago, ‘New Star’, and Vai Arunde, whom you bested.

“And even closer, there’s the incident at the royal banquet and then Zayen with his deceitful petition riddled with unknown traps.”

Thales spread his hands, letting the scraps of paper fall to the ground.

King Kessel peered at the pieces from afar, his grip on the chair’s arms tensed and his eyes ablaze with anger.

“When their interests arc threatened, when the ruling power faces challenges, when their space to manoeuvre shrinks,” Thales’ voice persisted, resolute,

“Their initial response is always resistance, counterattack, and their primary target of opposition will perpetually be the Renaissance Palace.”

“That means you.”

Thales’ gaze turned piercing, launching a direct response, “Because, to them, the Iron Hand King is just too mighty, too terrifying.

“So mighty that you’re left with no room to manoeuvre. As long as you’re on that throne, you’re automatically everyone’s foe, destined to confront their ingrained vigilance and opposition, be it in the open or in secret.”

“And because, in their view, the Iron Hand King stands out; he’s exceptional, this is where we’re at now. The pretext and convenience granted by the Bloody Year for ‘reviving the Kingdom’ have worn thin. Your actions can’t be hidden anymore, and Renaissance Palace has quietly ascended above all threats, becoming their primary adversary.”

King Kessel drew a deep breath, reigning in his surging anger, and shut his eyes.

But Thales remained undaunted, as though he had foreseen it all,

“So, as you look around, you find adversaries at every turn, and every step forward becomes an uphill battle.

“From top to bottom, nothing seems to go your way, and from the inside out, nothing achieves its goal.”

Thales gently shook his head and said, “No, Your Majesty.”

“You can’t do a thing. Not a single thing.”

His voice, filled with a weight of understanding, repeated, “Not a single thing.”

In the next moment. King Kessel suddenly opened his eyes.

“Molehills aren’t mountains,” he snapped, his tone sharp. “That’s all just talk.”17

Thales hummed and sighed, raising his hands in a resigned manner, “But the fact remains, there’s little you can do.”

The young man’s forehead slowly creased, “You might overcome them, but wiping them out completely? Faced with a pile of loose sand and a tangled web, you find yourself in a bind, unsure where they’ll show up to thwart your plans and which link in the chain will fail. Throughout the ‘Sand King’ campaign, you might have seemed like you were taking charge in a grand way, and no one was daring enough to challenge your authority, but the tmth is, most of the time, you were just swinging your sword in vain, silently taking losses.”

At that moment. King Kessel’s expression turned somewhat grim.

Still, Thales continued, unsettling, “And they, on the other hand, they’re all scattered throughout the entire Kingdom, in all walks of life, across the world, in every direction.”

“They hide in every nook and cranny of interests, ambitions, desires, positions, and wills— unpredictable and unexpected. They can switch from cowardly to fearless, from submissive to fanatical, from humble to passionate, from conforming to daring, at any time and anywhere.” “You won’t see them coming: as you swing your sword and strike, your opponents seem to disappear without a trace. But when you turn around, you’ll be amazed to find that enemies are everywhere.”

Thales recalled something and couldn’t help but snort, “It’s a bit like a police officer’s dilemma on these streets: Taking down only the most ruthless criminals won’t cut it because what they’re really up against is the Lower City District as a whole. Their enemies hide in unreachable corners and the most ordinary aspects of life, taking root and growing, rendering them helpless.” Thales raised his gaze, looking straight into the King’s eyes,

“And you, Your Majesty, what you are up against…”

“…is the entirety of the Constellation.”

Sitting at the far end of the long table, the King buried his face in the darkness beyond the reach of the light.

“Our enemies are weak, while we are strong. They are decaying, while we are full of vigour. They are scattered, while we stand united,” Thales spoke with a deep and sombre tone.

“This is your greatest and only advantage,” he continued.

“But on the flip side, our enemies might be divided, yet we bring them together. They cloak themselves while we stand in the open. They thrive in secrecy, while we thrive in light. Their

intentions may be uncertain, while ours remain clear. They are numerous, while we are few. They are unpredictable, while we are straightforward,” Thales continued with a matter-of-fact yet stark delivery.18

“These are the most distressing and challenging aspects of your situation.”

King Kessel cast a strange look towards Thales.

“If you persist with your current approach. Your Majesty,” Thales said, “it’s not difficult to foresee that it won’t just be the ‘Sand King’ that poses challenges, but everything you aim for in the future will be twice as challenging and fraught with obstacles.”

In the next moment, Thales’ gaze sharpened.

“You will not succeed, and I’ll tell you that much.” he declared firmly. “Whether it’s military reforms, land assessments, tax adjustments, centralising power, or any other bullshit you have in mind—you will not succeed.”

Thales held King Kessel in a resolute stare, as if he intended to glimpse the innermost thoughts of the King.

“Not until the day you pass away, burdened with unfulfilled ambitions and lingering regret, Your Majesty,” he reiterated, each word carrying its own weight, “You. Will. Not. Succeed.”

When Thales’ words settled, a heavy silence filled the room.

For quite some time, Thales and the King sat there in an intense silence, neither exchanging a single word.

Then, at long last. King Kessel made a move. He reached out, taking hold of a dining knife, and with a light rustling, he lowered his head, resuming the act of cutting his meal.

“Earlier, you changed how you address me,” King Kessel noted casually, “You no longer call me ‘father’.”

Thales’ gaze shifted subtly.

‘That’s right.’

“That’s because, Your Majesty, I’m no longer sitting here as your son,” the Prince responded calmly, his voice steady.

“I, under the title of the Duke of Star Lake, attend the Imperial Conference, ready to offer my advice to the wise King Kessel.”

The King briefly paused in his meat-cutting, offering a simple “Interesting,” his expression inscrutable.

“So, what advice do you have to offer?” he asked.

Thales took a deep breath before speaking cautiously.

“You know I’m right, and you’ve known it all along,” he began.

“It’s just that you’ve grown accustomed to wielding absolute authority and making unilateral decisions, and you’re no longer willing to humble yourself or bend down,” the Prince pointed out, his brows furrowing, “and listen to differing voices.”

King Kessel casually lifted his glass of wine, took a sip, and responded with a cold snort.

Thales briefly lowered his head, giving himself a moment to regroup and steady his breath.

“Your Majesty, it’s time to face the fact that the old ways won’t work any longer,” the young man said earnestly. “You need—no, we need…”

Thales hesitated for a moment, reverting to his previous choice of words.

“No, it’s still you. Only you,” he insisted, “In the face of such a predicament, you need a change of mindset.”

King Kessel’s eyes subtly flickered, and he asked, “A change of mindset?”

Thales nodded gently, his expression sincere. “Let me handle the situation in the Western Desert, Your Majesty. I’ll take it upon myself to help you achieve your desires.”

The King fell silent for a while before issuing a cold, humourless laugh. “So, it all comes down to the same condition.”

He regarded Thales with a sneer. “This so-called ‘change of mindset’ is essentially accepting Fakenhaz’s deal, pushing you out, and trading you for his chips. In the end, it’s meant to sow discord within the royal family, weakening the foundation of the Renaissance Palace.”

Once again met with rejection, this time around, Thales’ response was devoid of any extra emotion. Instead, he simply sighed and shook his head with a wry smile.

“No. fuck Fakenhaz,” Thales said with a smirk.

King Kessel narrowed his eyes.

Thales continued, laughing lightly while being rather blunt, “Fuck his deal, fuck his sword, fuck his chips.”

He said candidly, “To hell with that eccentric, scheming old fossil.”

“From this moment on, it’s no longer about him, Your Majesty,” Thales asserted with gravity. “It’s only about you and me.”

King Kessel pushed a piece of meat around on his plate and replied with a dry smirk.

“In this case, Duke Thales, it’s entirely you.”

“Is it your momentary act of kindness or perhaps the temptation of greed,” the King held his knife up once again, the tip now aimed at Thales’ cheek, “that leads you Io suggest that 1 should face the regional lords with a more gentle and moderated approach, slow gait—ruling with a softer hand?” Thales gave a feint smile but chose not to respond directly.

King Kessel’s smile slowly faded.

“Well, I’ve seen it too, and to put it in your words,” the Supreme King said with a cold tone, “you’re bound lo fail.”

Thales raised an inquisitive eyebrow.

King Kessel, in a rather unusual lecturing tone, elaborated, “Opting for a moderate approach implies compromising, and compromise means giving in. Giving in suggests wavering, and wavering means giving up. And when you give up…”

King Kessel the Fifth paused for a moment and then continued with a soft snort.

“…it means you were on the wrong path from the very start.”

“Soon enough, you’ll find yourself ensnared in their facade of righteousness, masking a treacherous agenda, without a say.”19

In that fleeting moment, a glint of coldness flashed in the King’s eyes.

“Someday, when you no longer align with their interests, when you no longer echo their voices, when you no longer cater to their desires, they will turn against you, hold you in disdain, cast you aside, forsake you, and ultimately betray you,”

King Kessel spoke in hushed tones,

“Much like the ‘Sand King’ of yesteryear.”

The King paused in his speech, then continued in a sombre tone,

“Much like my father.”

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