The Chains of Power

"Don't worry. The others in the group won't be coming back tonight for various reasons."

Kuaishang sprawled carelessly across the bedboard, swinging the wrist that had grown sore from the intense fight, and said:

"If I had to guess, Dean deliberately lured them away. You were the target."

A broken animal-oil lamp lit the mercenaries' quarters. Dean's body had long since been covered with coarse cloth and lay quietly on the floor, while Tales sat cross-legged against the corner of the wall, watching the relaxed Kuaishang on the bed without letting down his guard.

After a long while, Tales finally sorted out his thoughts and spoke softly:

"What's going on? Why—why are you here..."

"What's going on?" Kuaishang folded his hands behind his head and gazed at the mottled ceiling. "It's just what you see."

"I always thought that, apart from a few old acquaintances in Dragoncloud City, no one else knew I was still alive."

Kuaishang nodded toward the body covered by the coarse cloth.

"Until this fellow showed up."

His tone remained light, as though the sky were clear and free of shadows.

"The Dark Chamber is always everywhere, isn't it?"

"Father and Suriel never liked Lady Kasan, so I kept my distance from her as well."

Tales glanced at Dean on the floor.

He instinctively clenched his fists.

"I don't understand." He turned to Kuaishang and voiced his greatest confusion. "Your hair color, your Comas accent, and your age..."

Kuaishang snorted with laughter.

"Do you know? Comas is a wondrous place, with all kinds of city-states, countless races, and bizarre customs." The former prince sighed. "On the sea routes they opened, the Sante Archipelago in the southwestern part of the continent produces a miraculous dye. The local tribes use it to color their hair and even paint