"Control?"
Gilbert's expression shifted several times, but his wealth of experience allowed him to maintain a calm, gentle tone:
"Forgive my dullness, but I'm afraid I don't understand what you mean."
Tales gave him a long, deep look.
"No, Gilbert." Tales smiled.
"You're the cleverest person in this court—clever enough to know when you ought to be dull."
The corridor was dimly lit, the faint glow casting Gilbert's face into a mask of calm.
"You know perfectly well that everything I've possessed and achieved since you brought me into Mindis Hall—from using the Prince's name to make the Grand Duke of the Northern Land patiently listen to me, to using conflicting interests to make Dragoncloud City hesitate, to relying on my status and identity to make a small group of people willingly do my bidding, including all the effort I put into preventing conflict, dispelling the ravages of war, and helping my friends..."
Tales's smile slowly froze.
"All of it, when traced back to its source, came from him."
Gilbert froze, opening his mouth but saying nothing.
Tales continued:
"More than that, it came from what he represented: the kingdom, the system, tradition... everything."
"That's why I feared neither King Noon, King Chaman, nor the Shadow Shield. Yet he alone made me wary. He alone frightened me."
Tales took a deep breath.
"Because without him, without all that he gave me..."
"I could only return to what I was, becoming that lonely, helpless beggar in the Ruined House of the Lower City District."
Tales clenched his fists.
He remembered Ashida's painfully perceptive question to him in the room at the Palace of Heroes on the night of Dragon Blood.
"I would be..." the Prince said with difficulty.
"Nothing."
Nothing at all.
"I know His Majesty Kessel has always been domineering."