The Next Prince, Chapter 23 pg1
The Next Prince, Chapter 23 pg1
Chapter 23: The game begins.
Within the beautifully decorated Western-style garden of Phuchaka Palace, lush greenery of autumn contrasts with the colors of nasturtium flowers, inviting admiration but does little to bring back the joy of the owner of the place, at least not even a little.
Rachata is tense, his already stern face looking even more terrifying now. When the Puchongpisut family leader has something to think about, it doesn't bode well.
Sivakorn stands gravely by his side. In Rachata's hands is now a document showing the profile of a highly ranked national fencer prepared for the upcoming Sovereign King qualifying competition in a few months.
“Your Highness has pre-selected, my Lord. These ten people have great talent. If Young Prince Ramil prefers someone, we should arrange to acquire them immediately.” The person who is like Rachata's right hand always works efficiently, but the charisma of Sivakorn is still far from that of a lord.
“We can acquire these ten people in advance.”
“But as for the budget for the competition...”
“Not related.” The highest leader of the Puchongpisut family spoke calmly.
Rachata did not provide further explanation, but Sivakorn understood well enough.
In the game of power and dominance among the ruling families, where lives are wagered, the power and grandeur of the clans, honesty may not be as important as victory.
“Understood.” Acknowledging the weight of the position he holds, Sivakorn knows what he must do.
Puchongpisut cannot lose, do you understand the meaning I'm speaking of, Sivakorn? Find out who Thawetmetha and Atsawathewathin will use in the competition. If we can interfere with their people, victory won't be far away.”
“Understood.”
“We must do everything to ensure Ramil's victory.” The determined gaze of the clan leader is undeniable. Rachata becomes serious as he reflects on the most important matter.
“...”
“But don't let Ramil know about things he shouldn't be aware of.” He suppresses his concerns as he sees the son of the glass rings walking straight towards them, without any followers.
“Young-Lord Ramil arrives.” The servant announced the majestic YoungLord.
Sivakorn shows respect for the noble bloodline master. As for Ramil, tall and slender, he sits down before taking a breath and softly addressing the person in front, his own father.
“How was the meeting over there?”
“To speak directly would be rather dull. Grandfather has ordered preparations for the competition, and there is nothing beyond what has been planned for. If there is anything, it might be the changing rules of this year's competition...” Ramil states briefly while adjusting his sitting position.
Rachata surveys his son's stance before inquiring about another important matter.
“Is there an order regarding the entrance to and exit from the palace?”
“Indeed, until the competition is over, every clan can enter and exit the palace as a special case.”
“So...?”
Well... Your Majesty, is there something you need? It seems someone is following your child.” Ramil's questioning sentence brings back the king's attention to the current situation.
The middle-aged man signals, and Sivakorn moves to handle all the documents, leading them to someone authorized to enter the competition field.
“All of this is the history of our country's skilled novice fencers. If you are interested in particular individuals, I can arrange it for you.”
“Thank you, please give me some time to plan, then I will provide an answer...” Ramil receives the documents in a pile. He has not intended to read them yet, partly because of personal resentment.
Today, he had encountered only frustrating matters, both from the new heir of the Atsawathewathin family and from some individuals who behaved too familiarly with the rival clans.
“Ramil, you seem upset. Is there something bothering you?” The questioning sentence from his father causes Ramil to pause, remaining silent for a moment before responding curtly.
“It's pointless, Your Majesty.”
“Is that so? If it's pointless, then don't dwell on it.”
“...”
“Remember, starting from now, my son, competition is the most important thing in life.”
…
Clouds move slowly and gently. Khanin feels that since he set foot in this Royal Palace, there have been countless moments he has spent sitting and gazing at the sky, contemplating the things above.
One reason is because it helps alleviate stress, and the second reason may be because he doesn't know who to turn to.
“Should it be like this... Should it be this way, right?”
Khanin didn't wait for a response from Charan. Just as he was about to try to keep his anger bottled up, a burst of boiling anger rushed into his heart, clearly expressing his anger. Even Chakri himself was hesitant to step closer.
The sound of thunder sings softly, a sign of a rainstorm. Khanin remains seated on the terrace. Until the first raindrop falls and touches the ground.
“Sitting here, one has to be careful not to get splashed by raindrops.” The muffled voice commands the white-bodied owner of the house to divert his gaze from the scenery he was staring at and pay attention.
Tarin stands there, his middle-aged man's serene gazing, but what lies deep inside, Khanin cannot grasp. A young boy suddenly stood up from his seat and respectfully bowed to the venerable father according to tradition before lowering his head.
It is the first time they have faced each other...
“...” No conversation escapes, the atmosphere between the two individuals is extremely tense, much longer than Tarin would expect when asked for an explanation.
“It's crowded, isn't it, being confined within the palace walls like this.” The gentler sound helps alleviate the tension that surrounds, gradually relaxing.
Khanin locks eyes with the person in front of him. He doesn't think of opposing the person as a father. He understands well that the other party must also be in a defensive stance. Tarin is not wrong, but what troubles him is that he doesn't know which words to choose.
“I... um... Your Highness...”
“Please speak in the way you are comfortable with...” Tarin seems to understand what Khanin was struggling with.
Khanin pauses, then softly replies, “I... was born and grew up freely. So I'm not quite accustomed to being here.”
“I... I'm sorry for not taking care of you, never knowing of your existence.” The father's gesture shows genuine remorse.
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