The Third Party

The Prince and the Duke were both silent for a while.

"So this was your purpose today."

Tales pulled the dagger from the headboard, tossed it into the air, and caught the hilt with perfect accuracy as the blade spun around—in the wake of countless battles, the motion had become increasingly practiced and effortless.

Watching the Prince's actions, Cyril narrowed his eyes.

Tales tilted the dagger's tip upward and pondered for a moment.

"You want to recruit me to your side, making me a third party outside the two major factions—between the driver's iron whip and the warhorse's pounding hooves, pulling back this carriage of the Star Kingdom as it runs faster and faster?"

The third party.

At that moment, it was as if clouds on the horizon had covered the sun, darkening the room.

The Duke of the Western Desolation pressed his hands down on his cane again and again.

"Warhorses will not submit to iron whips, and drivers will not give up whipping them." His gaze was sharp.

"And whoever is in the carriage cannot simply sit and wait for it to fall apart."

Tales lightly flicked the blade between his fingers.

"So."

Tales gave a soft snort and pointed the dagger's tip at the Duke with great impoliteness.

"All of this—including your inexplicable appearance, drawing your sword to threaten me and spout dire warnings, then speaking earnestly with all the air of an old man—is for this moment?"

Tales stared at Cyril with an expression that was half-smiling and half-not.

Cyril met his gaze for a while before giving a soft grunt.

"Do you think I would simply drag some random fourteen-year-old brat off the street and tell him all this?"

Cyril said coldly, "If I couldn't first confirm what kind of person you were; if you