"Trust you? The only road? No better choice?"
King Kessel chewed over those words, deep in thought.
Tales controlled his breathing and stared fixedly at the king.
The king paused for a while, then let out a cold laugh.
"Hahahaha..."
The laughter was chilling, and the lamps around them trembled with it.
Tales clenched his fists before he realized it. His chest felt heavy, and even the air around him seemed oppressive.
But he had nowhere left to retreat.
The laughter slowly faded.
"From what I can see, Duke Tales of Star Lake Fortress," Iron Fist King said, his tone returning to calm, yet growing more frightening by the moment:
"The crown isn't on your head."
The crown.
An inexplicable palpitation seized Tales, throwing his breathing into disorder.
"Even if we don't take this road," the king said flatly,
"the wheels of the kingdom are destined to keep turning."
The young man pressed his fist against the table, feeling the pressure and pain in his knuckles, along with the strange agitation of Sin of the Hell River.
He knew what the other party cared about.
He knew.
Or did he merely think he knew?
Tales drew several deep breaths, then raised his head.
"Of course. You are the Supreme King of the entire Star Kingdom."
Iron Fist King remained expressionless.
"You can ignore me, sneer at the Western Wasteland, and veto this proposal outright."
Tales steadied his emotions and changed the subject.
"After all, you have confidence to spare, and the cards in your hand include more than just the 'Sand King.'"
He pointed at the letters on the table, keeping his tone even.
"Just as you can threaten Jann into standing in for the Western Wasteland, force the Southbank Territory to pull your carriage, move somewhere else, and do