Kingdom Bloodline

Chapter 578 Wine Merchant
Project Dragon Blood.

Thales frowned, trying to forget the discomfort of that night.

He gazed at the lost Morat, but couldn't help thinking of Crown Prince Midil, whom he had never met.

It's hard to imagine that the man, who also sat in a wheelchair, the man praised by Gilbert, Ginny, and even the Black Prophet, could so effortlessly strategize and completely change the rules of the game in the Dragon Kingdom.

However, Thales then remembered the stone urns in the Starry Tomb.

As a prince and heir to the kingdom, he was unable to save himself.

Just then, the door to the other end of the interrogation room was suddenly pushed open.

Thales snapped out of his daze: a richly dressed man with a black hood and cuffed hands was roughly escorted in by two burly men and brought before Raphael.

"No matter who you are or what you want to do, we can talk things over..."

The man staggered along, looking disheveled, yet he was still trying to persuade the other party.

Unfortunately, the burly men were unmoved. They rudely pressed the man onto a chair, then pulled on the chain attached to his handcuffs and fastened them to a ring on the table, but they did not remove his hood.

"Who is that?" Thales asked in a low voice, puzzled.

But Morat simply raised a finger, signaling him to calm down.

The escort left the interrogation room without looking back, leaving only the man's tense breathing in the room.

Raphael coldly walked up behind him and ripped off the black hood of the richly dressed man.

Upon being suddenly exposed to the light, the defendant squinted and turned his head in a disheveled manner, taking quite a minute to adjust.

He looked at Raphael, who was the only one left in the room.

Where am I? And who are you?

The man was middle-aged, with messy hair and a bruise on his face, clearly indicating that he had not been treated well in the past.

"never mind……"

But the return of sight brought the man some relief. He surveyed his surroundings and cleared his throat:

“But I strongly suggest you let me go—before things get worse.”

"This fish is too big for you to eat."

Raphael did not answer, but simply sat down opposite him, his red eyes coldly fixed on the other man.

The man chuckled, tugged at the shackles on his hands, and the chains rattled.
"Ha, it actually looks pretty convincing..."

"Tell me, buddy, are you the Blood Vial Gang or the Brotherhood?"

Thales looked at the Black Prophet with a puzzled expression, but the latter remained calm and seemed uninterested in the interrogation.

Although he appeared disheveled, the person on trial seemed to gradually regain his composure, speaking with confidence and self-assurance:
"As for the Blood Vial Gang, Catherine and I have a long-standing relationship. We were old acquaintances back in the South Shore, not just ordinary 'acquaintances,' hehe..."

Raphael remained silent.

The man's smile faded slightly.

"If it's a fraternity..."

The defendant leaned back in his chair, shaking his head and clicking his tongue.

"That's even better."

“I know Cincha, he’s a tough guy who’s been through a lot. And ‘Alpha Wolf’ Lazanchi, I knew him when he was still dealing in goods on the street, we almost became partners. Fat Morris also does business with me…”

But the Bone Man seemed determined not to speak, only staring intently at the other person with his eyes.

"If neither is..."

The man pondered, his expression changing again.

"They came specifically for me."

The defendant leaned back in his chair, his gaze toward Raphael becoming serious:

"Who is your employer?"

"Let me guess: Fragrance Merchant Guild? Carpenters' Union? Or some nobleman who's had a misunderstanding? Or some ignorant country bumpkin?"

But then the man seemed to realize something, and his eyes flickered:
"I see."

"Were you hired by my bunch of peasants?"

He leaned back in his chair and chuckled.

“They thought that would work… Well, listen, the people who hired you are dirt poor. No matter how much they paid, a hundred or two hundred, a thousand or two thousand, I’ll pay double.”

The man raised his hand with ease, gesturing to Raphael with the shackles he was holding.

Raphael remained unmoved.

The man frowned:

"If you're not doing this for money, but out of a sense of loyalty, or because you're their relative, then take my advice: it's not worth it. You're helping them, but you're putting yourself in the mess..."

Despite his dire situation, the man spoke with a habitually imperious tone.

“No,” Raphael interrupted him, his tone unfriendly.
“We are not a gang robbery, nor are we seeking revenge, nor are we trying to pay someone to settle a score.”

The skeletal man pressed his hand on the table, leaned forward, and stared intently at the person being interrogated:
"We serve the kingdom."

The interrogator was taken aback by the unexpected answer.

"To serve the kingdom..."

The man muttered it to himself a few times, then let out a loud "Aha!" and burst into laughter.

"Public officials?"

“Very well, you may not know this, but I am the most law-abiding citizen of the kingdom and a major taxpayer.”

"So where is this? Which security department? Are you an undercover security officer? What's your name? What's your post?"

He relaxed completely, tilted his head to look Raphael up and down, and smiled maliciously:
"Most importantly, who is your boss?"

Raphael remained expressionless.
"You don't want to see my boss."

Through a pane of glass, Thales couldn't help but glance at Morat.

The man narrowed his eyes, a shrewd glint in them:
"Oh, you can't be sure about that."

Raphael smirked and casually flipped through a stack of documents on the table:
"Your name?"

After learning who the other party was, the man became very relaxed, his attitude became much lazier, and he didn't care about the Wild Bone Man's problem at all.

"And I have quite a few friends in the Security Bureau, many important figures, including Lord Robick Dillah, the de facto head of the West City Security Bureau..."

Raphael sighed.

The Bone Man silently closed the files, methodically removed them from the table, and then raised his voice to repeat:
"Name?"

The man shook his head:

"I am also an honorary director of the Central Leading Wine Merchants Association..."

The next second, Raphael's left hand left a blur!

He gripped the chain that bound the man to the table and yanked it back.

boom!
The defendant was clearly used to a life of luxury and comfort. Before he could react, he was pulled from his seat, first his waist hit the edge of the table, and then his nose slammed hard onto the table.

The man whimpered in pain, blood streaming from his nose.

He tried to get up and look up, but Raphael grabbed his hair and pressed the back of his head down, pinning him firmly to the table.

"Name."

Raphael smiled serenely.

The man on the table struggled, his expression contorted with rage:
"You damned brat—"

Raphael grabbed the man's head, pointed his nose at the table, and slammed it down again.

boom!
The man trembled, gritting his teeth and groaning.

"Name."

Raphael's smile remained unchanged.

The man's face was flushed, and tears streamed down his face, but his resilience was beyond expectation.

"I know this process. It starts with simple questions to get the prisoners used to answering them..."

Before he could finish speaking, Raphael used force, turning the man's head and pressing the defendant's bleeding nose firmly onto the table, grinding it back and forth.

The man let out a muffled, agonizing scream, like a pig being slaughtered.

Thales frowned as he observed all this, while the Black Prophet chuckled softly, causing the black vein vines on his knees to tremble.

Raphael's next sentence is understated, like a lover's whisper:

"Name……"

But the other side is different.

"Ah-fuck-fuck-fuck—Moss! Moss!"

Despite the excruciating pain, the man cursed, yet answered readily:

"Dagri Moss!"

He protested angrily:

"Come on! You're working so hard, are you getting overtime pay?!"

Raphael's lips curled into a slight smile, and at that moment, the Bone Man appeared sinister and awe-inspiring.

He released his grip, and the defendant, named Dagori, was able to sit back down, clutching his nose and gasping for breath, indignant.
"Damn it! What the hell!"

Raphael retrieved the documents, but frowned as he stared at the viscous mixture of blood, snot, and tears on the table.

He shifted his chair and finally placed the document in the corner of the desk:
"What do you do?"

Dagori covered his nose while glaring back fiercely:
"And what are you doing here! A new temporary worker? Hmm, wait a minute—"

Dago's expression changed, and he quickly stopped Raphael from pulling on the chains again.

“Answer me,” the skeletal man laughed heartily, shaking the chain he had only half-pulled:

"Or answer it."

Dagor looked intently at Raphael and finally recognized the other's gaze.

"liquor."

The defendant exhaled resignedly and answered readily.

"I am a wine merchant. I brew wine and sell it—I sell wine in the capital, and many of my customers are high-ranking officials and nobles..."

Dagor swallowed hard, his eyes fixed on the chains in Raphael's hands:
“You know, buddy, overstepping your authority and abusing your power might not be a big deal under normal circumstances, but if someone wants to get rid of you from within, that’s a good reason to get you fired…”

“Mr. Morse,” Raphael ignored him and opened the document instead, “have many of your orchards, wineries, warehouses, and shops, including other related businesses, recently gone out of business?”

Dagori's eyes darted around, wanting to see the contents of the document, but Raphael looked up, and the man quickly turned his gaze elsewhere.

"If you're looking to find fault with the taxes, you can give up now."

Dagory cleared his throat and returned to familiar territory, where he once again became adept and at ease.
“The city hall, the police department, the finance and tax department, the city defense team, the discipline department—all the departments in the capital can testify that I am a law-abiding citizen and a philanthropist who repairs bridges and roads. If I were to go to trial, I could hire the best defense lawyer, and many high-ranking officials would be willing to vouch for me or even testify in court.”

“In fact, I not only paid enough taxes, but I also paid ‘a lot’ extra, you know, ‘a lot’ extra.”

He stared at Raphael with a sly and arrogant smile—only his smashed, bright red nose somewhat marred his image.

The chains on Raphael's hands tightened again:
"Then Mr. Morse, why have you closed so many wineries and shops in recent weeks, and laid off a large number of workers?"

Dagory stared at the chains, his expression somewhat grim:

"Alright, let's be more civilized—I'm a businessman, what other reason could there be for closing down? Of course, it's because the market is bad."

Raphael raised his eyes:
"But you are one of the top wine merchants in the central government, and the supplier of wine for banquets of many aristocratic families."

Dagor raised an eyebrow and smiled confidently:
"Ha, so you knew."

Raphael still ignored him:
"So, there are many people working under your winery's business, including farmers, workers, artisans, partners, several investment partners, some upstream and downstream raw material suppliers, as well as distributors and bulk wine merchants, totaling hundreds of people."

Raphael looked at Dagori:
"They plan to file a joint lawsuit and put you on trial."

The wine merchant's expression changed, first with indignation, then with disdain.

"Ha, I knew it."

He spat fiercely, his eyes gleaming with malice.

"Those brats, those ungrateful peasants..."

On this side of the one-way glass, Thales frowned as he looked at the Black Prophet:

"This guy is a shrewd and cunning businessman, but I don't understand why I came to see this?"

“Don’t worry, Your Highness,” Morat said softly, pressing a finger to his lips.
"Some things may seem small, but they can reveal profound truths; some roles may seem insignificant, but they can connect people from all directions."

Thales was taken aback.

At the other end of the room, Raphael smiled slightly:
"So, Mr. Morse, do you know why they're suing you?"

"why?"

Dagory seems to have regained his confidence:

“As you know, the wine market has been sluggish lately, and sales have been poor. My cash flow is in trouble. Considering the costs, I have to shift my business and make a difficult choice—closing down some wineries, which is just one of them.”

Raphael squinted:
"Really?"

Dagor seemed oblivious to Raphael's doubts and continued speaking eloquently:

"During this process, I may have had some minor disagreements with a very small number of employees regarding salary payments..."

Raphael gave a cold laugh:
"So, you've been owing your subordinates wages on credit for so long, and even delaying payments to your partners, including payments to suppliers and deposits, not to mention the usual exploitation and deductions, and you're just going to let it go like this?"

Dagori's expression turned cold.

He kept his eyes fixed on the chain clutched in Raphael's hand as he carefully and patiently explained:

"Delinquency? Listen, I admit, I have made some minor changes to the calculation method for the money, including the time limit..."

Raphael interrupted him:

"So you're going to run away with the money?"

Dagory frowned, his voice righteous and stern:

“Running away? Hey, I’m just going out of town for vacation—that’s what I say no matter who comes to me, and you can’t illegally coerce me into giving a confession.”

Raphael scoffed:

"But the people you owe money to, especially the workers, don't think that way."

Dagor frowned and stared at Raphael for a moment, then said seriously:
“Listen, I take on the costs, the ideas, and the methods, while they contribute their labor, skills, and time. The boss and the employees work together, dividing the tasks, all to brew the best wine, striving towards one goal.”

"So the winery business doesn't just belong to me, it belongs to everyone. We're like a family."

"When a family experiences setbacks and hardships, everyone in the family should understand each other and overcome difficulties together!"

He stared wide-eyed, tapping his fingers lightly on the table, as if he were about to teach the person in front of him a lesson:
"But some people just don't understand. They are narrow-minded and have no sense of the big picture. They can't endure even the slightest hardship. Just because their salary is a little lower or their life is a little difficult, they turn their backs on me and don't care about the opportunities and conditions I provide for them."

Raphael nodded, then pursed his lips:
“But you are the boss, this is your winery.”

“That’s right!” Dagory said painfully.

"So I can see the truth of this industry better than they can, care more about its future than they can, and feel more heartbroken about the decline of the wine industry than they can, because I'm like a father to them!"

Raphael glanced at the document:
"But you shut down the winery."

Dago's expression froze for a moment, then he hummed softly:
"There's nothing we can do. No matter how warm the family is or how hard the father works, if the children are rebellious, disobedient, and immature, there's always nothing we can do."

"And you know, some people are just..."

The wine merchant looked at him with a disappointed expression:
"I closed down my winery 90% of the time because of these lazy, good-for-nothing workers demanding higher wages."

"This kind of person is a cancer in the industry. They are short-sighted and don't understand that the most important thing about a job is not salary and benefits, but the room for advancement and development prospects, including the value of training!"

Dagory appeared very angry:

"They don't understand how to look at things from a higher, more sophisticated perspective. You know, when have we bosses ever cared about our own salaries?"

"They just make trouble, all they do is make trouble. But when they make trouble, do they ever think about what will happen if they cause a winery to go bankrupt? What if they cause the entire industry to fall apart? In the end, won't they be the ones who suffer and pay the price?"

Dagori paused, exhausted from speaking.

He exhaled through his nose, a look of regret on his face:

"Now, all I can say is that they brought this upon themselves, and they got what they deserved."

"Enough," Raphael said, clearly annoyed by his speech.
"We don't care about your business."

The skeletal man leaned forward, his tone cold:

"I don't care if you're yet another shameless and unscrupulous boss."

"We only care about one thing."

Dagori exhaled, a "finally here" expression on his face, and gave a cold smile.

“Alright, let’s get straight to the point,” the wine merchant said dismissively.
How many targets did your superiors assign you?

"How much money do you want? How much will it take to let me go?"

Raphael stared intently at him, his eyes icy cold.

He said in a cold voice:

"I want to know your real reasons for closing the winery and exiting the wine industry."

Dagori was puzzled:
"Wha, what?"

Raphael sneered:
"Before you closed down, you said at a private gathering of the wine merchants' guild that the wine industry had no future?"

"So you'd rather withdraw your investment and run away sooner?"

Dagor's expression changed at first, then he said indignantly:
"I wasn't running away, I was just going abroad for vacation..."

But Raphael repeated emotionlessly:

"answer me."

Dagori was stunned for a long time, but he eventually shook his head.

“I’ve given you all the answers you wanted… and to be honest, you’re suspected of illegal torture…”

Raphael smiled and, without changing his expression, turned to the next document:
"In fact, I have a list of your bad debts accumulated over the years, from robbing Peter to pay Paul to borrow money from one source to another."

Dagori's expression changed.

Raphael continued, observing the other man's watch:

"And your list of assets outside the wine business: six properties in the Central Territory, two merchant ships registered in Maiden Harbor, a large plantation in the South Coast Territory, a salt field in the Cliff Territory, a large tract of land in the Blade's Edge Territory, two foreign titles purchased at great expense, your wife's private garden, the positions of your two sons, and assets under the names of your three mistresses and eight other illegitimate children..."

Seeing Dagor's changing expression, Raphael narrowed his eyes:

"If I send them to the tax office and the courthouse..."

Dagori swallowed hard, but he still spoke with unwavering resolve:

"Then let's go."

Raphael frowned.

Dagory leaned back in his chair, pressed his weight against the table, and gritted his teeth, saying:
"I guarantee that no matter where you are, you will only get one answer: that is my legally obtained property, with complete procedures and documents, and clear and unambiguous ownership."

"If you dare to use the public power of the king and his officials to extort money, illegally seize private property, and do such a vicious thing to a powerless commoner merchant?"

“Wow, that’s a serious charge, and it goes against the kingdom’s policy of encouraging the market and supporting commerce for more than a decade.”

The wine merchant glared at Raphael, as if he wanted to retaliate for the broken nose:

"This news won't sound good if it gets out. Given my position, I guarantee that many chambers of commerce will file protests, including many righteous and enlightened bureaucrats and nobles, as well as influential figures from all over the world. They will all speak out."

"By then, it will be your boss who doesn't want to see me anymore."

Dagori's words carried a threat:
"Because you're not just taking away my interests, but the interests of many powerful figures behind me."

"do you understand?"

“Now, whether it’s a labor dispute or a tax issue, you have no reason to detain me.”

Raphael closed the file in his hand and began to scrutinize Dagory again, seemingly realizing for the first time just how troublesome this man was.

The latter looked back at him coldly and shook the shackles on his hands.

A few seconds later, Raphael smiled.

He was already handsome, but his warm and bright smile made him even more endearing.

The skeleton stood up, took out a key, and almost fawned over Dagori as he unlocked his shackles.

"Please rest assured, Mr. Morse, this evidence will not be sent to the tax office or the courtroom, and we do not want to cause trouble for the people behind you."

Seeing that his strategy had worked, Dagori, now freed from his restraints, beamed with delight and became even more affected:

"Very good. In my opinion, you are young and have a bright future. You are a promising young talent. —What should I call you?"

But Raphael did not answer; he simply continued the previous topic:
"I will simply pack these materials and documents together and send them to Emerald City."

Dagory was taken aback:
"what?"

Raphael's smile was like a gentle spring breeze:
"Yes, send it to Iris Castle, to the desk of Duke Jann Kevindir, the ruler of the South Bank Territory."

"how?"

(End of this chapter)