It took Tales quite a while to recover from his discomfort and bewilderment.
"What is this?"
He turned to Morat, who sat there calmly.
The Black Prophet smiled strangely.
"What do you think it is?"
Tales was silent for several seconds.
"My father told me when he sent me here," the Prince said heavily and bleakly,
"To take a look at my own mess."
A mess.
Tales felt his spirits sink.
Morat said quietly,
"Then you've seen it. At the very least, the Royal Capital's banquet and liquor industry won't be able to avoid panic and depression in the short term."
[Damn Prince.]
[Everything he does... has a super, super huge impact, doesn't it?]
Dagori the wine merchant's voice seemed to echo in the boy's ears.
"But I didn't do anything," Tales murmured.
The Black Prophet's cold laughter reached his ears.
"At your level, doing nothing is also a stance."
"Whether you intended it or not."
Tales' gaze grew unfocused.
[Just drink a little. A few sips would be fine.]
He once again heard what Princess Iris had said to him on the day of the banquet.
[I'll bet that by tomorrow, you'll feel as though everyone is watching you.]
Everyone is watching you...
The Duke took a deep breath, then painfully exhaled through his clenched teeth.
"They shouldn't have... interpreted it that way."
"But that's exactly what they did."
Morat's voice seemed to come from another room, yet it lost none of its cruelty.
"And over the past six years, you left your homeland, went to the northern kingdom as a hostage, and were confined within those high walls?"
The demonic flesh on the Black Prophet's knees writhed.
"If I may be frank, that was your good fortune."
My good fortune.
Tales swallowed.
As his thoughts shifted, the interrogation