Father and King

Dawn had arrived.

Inside Mindis Hall, the most important and awkward meeting between father and son in the entire kingdom was unfolding.

Tales stared blankly at the robust nobleman before him—his own father.

He turned toward Gilbert and Yordel with a trace of panic and helplessness, but both men kept their heads bowed in silence.

He looked at the guards surrounding the corridor, but the well-equipped soldiers kept their gazes hidden behind their visors, standing motionless.

Until the thick voice of Kessel the Fifth reached his ears:

"He looks like a scrawny mud-monkey."

Tales' current state was indeed far from ideal. His short, black hair was chopped unevenly (thanks to Synti's handiwork) and matted with dust, while his small face was smeared with mud and handprints. Although the magic-user Ashida had used mysterious means to stop the bleeding from his various wounds, the scrapes, scratches, and bruises he had sustained in the Ruined House and the Red Quarter still clung to him sparsely. His beggar's hemp tunic, also covered in dust, was tattered and torn, with a large rip across the chest that nearly exposed the brand beneath; before entering Mindis Hall, he had even been shivering in the cold wind.

"I trust you haven't made a mistake," Kessel's voice echoed through the hall.

Tales looked up again, watching Kessel.

His King, his father.

But Kessel had already turned his head, looking at him no longer.

A faint sense of dissonance welled up in Tales' heart, but he immediately suppressed the discomfort.

Kessel's heavy voice continued to echo:

"You all know how important this matter is. Right now, only the three of us know. Of course, I will have Jinnie transferred here; he requires proper care, so that will make four of us—once Morat returns, I will inform him personally."

"From this moment on, Mindis Hall is under total lockdown. Tell the outside world that a royal treasure has been lost and that I am furious."

"We cannot risk deploying the Royal Guard; that would be too conspicuous. We cannot let our opponents know our next move."

"For the next month, his safety will be guarded by fifty Terminus Swordsmen, private soldiers of the Crescent Star Family. While they are not as capable, they have the advantage of loyalty and discretion, and they can keep secrets. As long as we don't attract too much attention, they should be more than enough. And Yordel, for the sake of caution, you will remain here as well. My safety for this month will be handled by Eda and the Royal Guard."

Yordel did not speak, merely giving a slight nod with his masked head.

"Gilbert." Kessel still did not glance at Tales. He stroked the crystal on his scepter and spoke thoughtfully, his tone filled with majesty.

"Have you thought of a reason for your visit to Mindis Hall in the early hours of the morning?"

"Of course, Your Majesty. The excuse is ready-made: a gang war at the border of the Lower District and the West Ring District resulted in numerous casualties, and I rushed to the Royal Palace where Your Majesty is staying to report the matter," Gilbert replied respectfully.

"Not enough. I return to the Revival Palace tomorrow, but you must visit here frequently for the next month. You need a better reason," King Kessel shook his head.

"Then let us say that the royal treasure disappeared so mysteriously that Your Majesty has personally ordered me to investigate the matter thoroughly?"

"A bit stiff, but it will suffice for a month," King Kessel pondered for a moment and nodded.

Then, the King of the Stars finally turned his gaze toward the bewildered Tales.

His eyes were sharp, stinging Tales and causing him to take an involuntary step back.

The feeling was nothing like a father looking at his son.

But the King seemed entirely indifferent to Tales' appearance.

"One month, Gilbert. One month."

"Before his identity is formally recognized, Gilbert, you are his private tutor, responsible for all matters of his instruction."

"Yes, Your Majesty. As you wish, I shall do my utmost," Gilbert replied respectfully.

Tales' heart sank.

Kessel tapped his scepter with satisfaction and mused for a moment.

"You must have him ready. He cannot appear before the entire kingdom, the Six Great Families, and the envoys of other nations looking like this."

"From etiquette to temperament, from knowledge to appearance, he must look presentable. We need a decent Heir to the Kingdom, not a destitute street beggar."

A street beggar?

Hearing this, Tales tightened his fists slightly.

"Use the welcome banquet for the Exeter Delegation as the benchmark. I expect him to make his debut by then—it won't be easy, but I believe you can do it."

Tales felt a slight tremor in his heart, but he remained silent, listening to King Kessel's unquestionable orders as he planned his future step by step.

Yet, in Tales' future, there seemed to be no room for his own will.

How could it be like this?

He had just escaped the place of suffering where he had gritted his teeth and endured.

His heart was filled with so many questions, so many doubts.

But the King Kessel before him seemed completely unconcerned with his thoughts, merely issuing his commands sentence by sentence, stating his own will.

"No one needs to know about his past, but there must be an explanation eventually. Gilbert, fabricate a story for his origins."

"As long as we can confirm his bloodline—I will discuss this with Licia; even the Gods can be bargained with—we need not fear idle gossip."

"Select his peers from the noble registry, as well as the tutors and Attendant Officers for the heir—these will be focal points once he is recognized. There must be contingency plans in place; I want to see the list by next week."

"For safety's sake, Gilbert, you must re-examine the clauses of the Sacred Starfall Covenant regarding royal succession, as well as precedents within the Crescent Star Family similar to his. If there are any points of contention, we still have time to remedy them now."

Tales furrowed his brows, listening as they continued to plot his future, his life.

Like a marionette on strings.

"As for his engagement, I have an idea, we shall discuss it later, Ekster—"

Just then, Gilbert interrupted the King with a respectful expression.

"Your Majesty, there is still time," the middle-aged nobleman with gray-white hair seemed to sense something amiss, yet he still tried his best to voice his opinion: "If you need to spend time alone with this child, we can—"

But Kessel waved his hand abruptly, cutting Gilbert off.

In that instant, Tales saw the King's deep eyes tremble. He felt a strange emotion emerging from Kessel's expression.

Tales wanted to say something, but the words reached his lips only to be swallowed back down.

I—what should I say?

What can I say?

What is a seven-year-old child supposed to say upon meeting his father for the first time?

Hey, father I'm meeting for the first time, can I say a word?

Perhaps you should listen to my thoughts instead of talking to yourself?

It's too bizarre.

Kessel seemed to want to turn his head toward Tales, but he jerked it back halfway through. He rested his hands on his scepter and stared at the portraits of the three former kings on the wall, remaining silent for a long time.

It seemed that only at this moment did he look more like a human being.

After a long while, Kessel finally turned around. He did not look at anyone in particular, but the majestic voice belonging solely to the King of Starfall, Kessel the Fifth, rang out once more.

"In any case, the task upon your shoulders is heavy. The Starfall Kingdom has been without an heir for twelve years. And just last week, Kosted mentioned the elective monarchy of the Ekster Kingdom in his letter, intentionally or otherwise—you know how the six great families will react."

"His appearance is a variable, but it is also an unexpected bargaining chip and advantage for us... The plan must be revised to ensure we stay one step ahead of our opponents."

"Ensure that he can be utilized to the greatest possible extent."

Tales was stunned.

This is—his father?

A variable.

A bargaining chip.

An advantage.

Utilized to the... greatest possible extent?

Is this what a father should say in front of a son he has never met before?

Tales sighed in his heart and lowered his head.

So that's how it is...

This feeling of being completely out of place...

It doesn't feel like a father and son reuniting at all—it feels more like a chess player moving a piece with practiced, nonchalant indifference.

Tales was clearly not the only one who sensed this strangeness.

Gilbert's expression shifted, as if he wanted to say something.

But in the end, he merely lowered his head and sighed softly, out of the King's line of sight.

Yet, someone still interrupted the King, disregarding the atmosphere.

"Your Majesty."

Tales turned back in surprise; it was the silent Yordel who had spoken.

The expression behind the secret guard's mask was impossible to discern, but his hoarse voice was incredibly firm:

"He is your blood, your son, first and foremost!"

"Only then is he your heir."

"And you cannot turn a blind eye to that."

Tales looked up to see Kessel the Fifth let out a long breath.

Then, he closed his eyes.

"Yes, he is my son," the King said in a muffled tone, eyes closed, gripping his scepter tightly: "That is why I am here today."

"I leave him to you. Remember, one month."

Kessel the Fifth said nothing more in the end.

The lenses on Yordel's mask paused for a moment, but eventually, he lowered his head and said no more.

A faint sense of doubt and surprise spread through Tales' heart.

The King nodded, looked at Gilbert and Yordel who were kneeling on one knee, then cast a glance at the dazed Tales with an inscrutable, complex expression before turning and leaving without hesitation.

Gilbert and Yordel slowly stood up.

The robust figure slowly descended the stairs.

The footsteps were heavy, yet carried a sense of majesty.

The majesty of a King.

What?

Is this—the end?

Tales was startled, watching his departing "father" in disbelief.

This isn't right.

This so-called father... he is the father of this body, isn't he?

But why.

He seems so... devoid of emotion?

And.

Matters concerning my future...

Are they just decided like this?

I didn't even get a chance to speak...

"Wait!"

Tales finally couldn't help it and shouted out loud.

He was tired of being a powerless pawn.

The robust figure paused for a moment, then turned around.

Gilbert looked at Tales in surprise, while Yordel's expression remained hidden behind his mask.

Watching the King slowly turn, and enduring his sharp gaze, Tales felt his molars ache.

But he still spoke with difficulty.

"I, although we have never met..." Tales stammered, waving his hands helplessly in front of him, weighing his words: "But since you are my... I mean, since we are..."

The King gripped the stair railing, looking toward Tales with an indescribably complex gaze.

Tales squeezed his eyes shut, then opened them again, exhaling a breath:

"I would like..." he enunciated with difficulty, his usual eloquence nowhere to be found.

Damn it...

What attitude and words should I use to face... a man who is both a father and a King?

Affection?

Indifference?

Apathy?

Surprise?

None of them are right.

Beside him, Gilbert reached out a hand toward Tales, as if wanting to say something, but ultimately chose silence.

Tales's breathing quickened, and he frowned: "I am actually quite confused, perhaps you, as my... could help me find answers."

"After all, we are... blood relatives. And you said so much—heir, kingdom, betrothal—but I know nothing."

"This might not be important to you, and you might not care much..."

Kessel the Fifth gripped his scepter tightly, yet did not reply, his brows slowly knitting together.

Tales bit his lip, feeling the burn on his chest begin to ache faintly.

Damn it.

Even the most failed thesis presentation wasn't this awkward.

He waved his hands slightly, organizing his language:

"But this is my future, and if you have already decided... you should at least let me understand a little."

"Also, you said no one needs to know about my past... but at least I do, I mean..."

"At least I need to know my past."

"I really want to know what exactly happened."

"And the path I will walk."

The way Kessel looked at Tales changed.

It was no longer a gaze of assessment, scrutiny, or inspection.

It was as if he were realizing for the first time that Tales was a person.

And that he was his son.

Tales sighed.

Forget it.

He opened his eyes and looked straight at his "father."

"Yes, I want to know everything about myself."

"I want to know my origins, for instance... who my mother is, where I was born, and how I ended up like this."

"Also, my status, my future, and the choices I might have..."

"Answers like those..."

"Instead of being an outsider, a pawn, an object..."

"If I truly am your... son."

Tales gritted his teeth as he said the word.

Even though your behavior... really isn't what a normal father should be like.

Even if you are the King.

Tales felt a bit dizzy; the exhaustion from tonight was already more than this seven-year-old body could handle.

The King finally looked him in the eye, his sky-blue pupils radiating a sharp light from within deep eye sockets.

At that moment, the gaze of Kessel the Fifth was incredibly complex and inscrutable; Tales could not read anything more from it.

"Child, what is your name?"

He heard the supreme ruler of Starfall ask in his deep, heavy voice.

Tales stared at Kessel.

"Tales," he heard himself say, "my name is Tales."

You only just remembered to ask your son's name now?

Good heavens.

Tales shook his head slightly in his heart.

"Tales, listen carefully." Kessel narrowed his eyes, his tone cold:

"There are many things you do not need to know."

"And no need to concern yourself with."

"Your path has already been decided."

"Just follow it."

What?

At that moment, Tales felt a chill run through his heart.

"If you still have doubts."

"Go ask Gilbert."

And then, Kessel the Fifth, the thirty-ninth Supreme King of the Starfall Kingdom, the Southern Archipelago, and the Western Desert.

Just like that, he left Mindis Hall without looking back.

His cloak vanished from Tales's field of vision.

Damn it.

Tales lowered his head, staring fixedly at the expensive black floor tiles, his brow furrowed tightly.

This is the father of this body, are you sure he isn't an enemy?

"Child, Tales." Gilbert, standing behind him, couldn't help but silently pat him on the shoulder.

"Do not worry, and do not overthink it. His Majesty is simply overwhelmed with matters; in fact, he—."

Before Gilbert could finish, Yordel suddenly stepped forward and crouched down in front of Tales. He gently pressed Tales's JC Dagger—which had appeared in his hand at some point (Gilbert's expression changed as he touched his own waist, his brow knitting together)—into Tales's hand.

Tales snapped back to reality, slightly startled.

He saw the dark purple mask nod slightly, and a hoarse voice slowly drifted over:

"Relax."

"You are his son, bound by blood and connected by fate. No one, and nothing, can change that."

Tales took a deep breath.

They had likely misunderstood.

Do they think I am disappointed because of my "father's" neglect?

He put away the dagger, clenched his fists tightly, and forced a smile.

"Rest assured," he said calmly, suppressing the dissatisfaction in his heart, "thank you both."

Watching Yordel, who had interrupted him, Gilbert let out a dissatisfied huff through his nose. He also crouched down in front of Tales and said softly:

"Tales, my little gentleman, you have already been through enough tonight."

"Now you need rest, and perhaps some medical attention."

"Tales, please come with me. Yordel, I will come back for you later; we need to talk."

Tales nodded and obediently followed Gilbert.

Only Yordel remained, lifting his head to gaze at a vase in the distant corridor.

With a sharp and terrifying gaze, he observed that invisible, minute cracks had appeared on that vase.

The brows beneath Yordel's mask furrowed slightly.

He knew that before Tales had roared out loud.

That vase had still been perfectly intact.

Was it a coincidence?