The Debt Of Fate
Chapter 162: Without motivation

Chapter 162: Without motivation

The Duke took a while before he started speaking.

"My only sister was married to Prince Christopher. At that time, he was the firstborn and the crown prince of Nixel. The marriage had been arranged by our fathers, but later it turned out that the prince had taken a liking to my sister and personally asked his father for her hand.

The two got along well after the engagement and married two years later. After their marriage, my sister became pregnant twice but lost both pregnancies. The situation was strange, but she never told anyone what was happening.

The year Prince Christopher died, my sister had just begun to suspect that there was something wrong with the second prince.

She had no evidence and wanted to investigate quietly. After all, the two princes were close.

Peace had returned to the land three years after their marriage. My sister had just learned she was pregnant again when the news of the crown prince’s death spread; he had died after going hunting with the second prince. My sister was greatly devastated by the news.

She ordered the guards, secretly sent by my father to protect her, to investigate how her husband had died. She was not convinced by the official story, especially since she already suspected the second prince.

My sister, being wise, did not want to startle the snake, so she investigated quietly. The guards were skilled and intelligent. In a matter of days, they found out that the second prince could not be separated from the crown prince’s death. My sister was still trying to gather enough evidence to present to the king, but after the crown prince’s death, the king’s illness worsened and he died shortly after.

At that time, my sister was worried that if the second prince; now the king discovered she was pregnant, her child might not survive. So she faked her death in the crown prince’s courtyard and returned home in secret.

My sister is your mother. That mistress who happened to be a pregnant woman in a pleasure house was merely a cover. I specifically brought her in to conceal your birth. Your mother believed that nothing was more important than your life, so I could only take you in as my son. Since her return was a secret, she became your wet nurse and always kept her face covered, afraid someone might recognize her.

The countess I had brought from the inn died in childbirth. Her child did not survive either. We thought God was helping us cover up the truth, but your mother fell ill and died when you were two.

She never truly recovered from your father’s death. I believe she only pushed herself to live for your sake, but eventually, her body could no longer support her, and she passed away."

The Duke paused and looked at Ernest.

"I promised your mother that I would not tell you the truth until you came of age. I have no issue with you being my heir. Even now, I can make it official. After all, you are a noble member of our family.

I simply thought it best for you to know the truth and make your own decision," the Duke said, his eyes red. It took all his willpower not to cry as he recounted the story. After all, he had loved his sister and thought she would live happily with her husband. He never expected such a tragic end.

"The second prince you speak of... he is the current king?" young Ernest asked after a moment of heavy silence.

"Yes," the Duke answered.

Ernest stood, bowed to the Duke, and returned to his chamber. That night, he could not sleep. He was furious, and all he wanted was to stab a knife into the heart of the man who had ruined his family.

But at twelve, Ernest was smart. He knew he could not kill the king, not yet.

He also knew his mother had endured so much just to conceal his identity so he could live. Yet Ernest felt it would be living in vain if he did not avenge his parents.

He quickly came up with a plan to join the royal guard, but unfortunately, he had missed the recruitment period and could only join the royal army instead.

Ernest thought this was still acceptable. After all, as long as he worked hard, he would eventually have the opportunity to get close to the king and strike.

So he sneaked into the Duke’s study to find evidence against the king.

Ernest also understood that he could not simply present the evidence to the court. The king was the most feared man in the kingdom.

Thus, he joined the royal army at twelve, determined not to drag his uncle’s family into the mess.

He worked harder than anyone, striving for promotion.

Ernest had seen portraits of the former crown prince and knew they resembled each other slightly, but no one else noticed because he looked a lot like his mother.

Fortunately, this was also heaven’s blessing as this resemblance would make no one else doubt he was the Duke’s son.

Puk!

Ernest slammed his hand hard against a tree trunk. He had never thought that all his careful preparation would be for nothing.

He had dreamed of pushing his knife into the king’s heart countless times, but now he had lost the chance forever.

"Who poisoned the king?" Ernest wondered. Was the person seeking vengeance as well, or was it a plot to usurp the throne?

After venting for a while, Ernest continued deeper into the bush, searching for prey.

He suddenly felt that his life had no meaning anymore.

Although his uncle cared for him, it could not replace the love of a father.

The king’s death had left him without motivation and without purpose.

And so, without thinking, he ventured deeper into the forest. Time was passed quickly, expect for a few rabbits, Ernest did not sight a prey that caught his attention.

Ernest was great distracted and was beginning to think of heading back seeing it was almost morning, when he noticed movement amongst the bush. Ernest barely had time to draw his sword before the beast hidden underbrush was upon him, its massive claws slashing at his chest. He stumbled back, the air knocked from his lungs, pain blooming across his ribs.

The tiger circled, snarling, its golden eyes locked onto him with deadly intent. Blood dripped from the shallow wounds on his chest, but Ernest gritted his teeth, raising his sword in both hands. When the tiger lunged again, he sidestepped, slashing at its shoulder. The blade cut deep, and the animal howled, but the wound only seemed to enrage it.

The fight dragged on, a brutal blur of blood, teeth, and steel. Ernest took another blow across his thigh, nearly falling, but he caught himself and drove his sword upward into the tiger’s side as it leapt for his throat.

The beast’s weight crashed against him, knocking him flat, but Ernest held on, twisting the blade deeper.

The tiger gave one last shuddering growl before collapsing on top of him, heavy and lifeless.

Panting, his body aching and blood slick on his skin, Ernest shoved the carcass aside and dragged himself upright. His hands trembled around the bloodied sword, but in his heart, there was a cold, hollow silence.

Even victory tasted bitter.