Kingdom Bloodline

Chapter 139 A Special Welcome Banquet
“Are you sure I don’t need to wear this? Ms. Ginny said that for formal occasions like banquets…” In the room, Thales frowned, holding up a small, trimmed vest, and asked Puttier.

And these were the luggage that the mission risked their lives to carry, along with the flag, to get, weren't they?
“This is Exter, in the North,” Putile, dressed neatly, looked at him dismissively. “Even at banquets, they hate pretty boys and sissies the most… If you were to actually put that on—I think you’d be the best contender for the banquet clown.”

Thales stuck out his tongue and dropped his vest.

“Ah, you know,” Ada, who was sitting by the window, came back to her senses and sighed regretfully, “a party without a clown is so boring.”

Nearly a month of intense tension left Thales with no time to think about anything else. From the abandoned house to Red Street, from Mindis Hall to the Palace of Restoration, and from Dragon Fortress to Dragon Sky City, the new second prince hadn't even had time to warm his own bed before being hastily put on a nobleman's carriage, shackled as a prince, and faced unprecedented challenges.

So it wasn't until the servants and Myrk came to remind them that Thales suddenly realized he had absolutely no experience or knowledge of attending noble banquets.

He, who had never lost his composure when facing weapons, vampires, or magic masters, suddenly became somewhat nervous.

“Don’t worry,” Putila said dismissively, lighting up some northern tobacco he’d gotten from a servant. “Compared to the standards of Starry Sky and the Duchy of Anrenzo, Exter’s banquets are nothing more than a common soldier’s camp picnic—and if you’ve ever experienced the style of Hambul and Suye, good heavens, their banquet etiquette is torture.”

“Etiquette, adornment, fashion, style—these efforts to distinguish status, separate position and class, and categorize people have never ceased,” Thales tried to calm his anxiety with small talk. He squatted down, adjusting his shoes in front of a simple full-length mirror, and sighed, “After tonight, I must take a shower…”

“Let’s think about the important business of tonight first,” Putilai said with difficulty, seemingly unaccustomed to the pungent tobacco of the North. “Cough, cough, damn it, they sent the inferior goods—”

Putila's words seemed to have a magical power, making Telston instantly forget the awkwardness of the upcoming banquet and seriously consider the current situation.

The door rang.

Rolf walked in, stepping on his increasingly skilled metal prosthetic leg. He seemed to be experiencing this situation for the first time, his face pale beyond the silver mask.

Wyman, who arrived later, appeared more composed, as if he had witnessed similar scenes before.

“Your Highness,” Thales’s attendant nodded solemnly, “everything is ready.”

Rolf, standing beside him, gestured:

They've arrived.

Thales nodded.

The second prince took a deep breath and, seeing Putila's bewildered expression and Wyah's furrowed brow, gestured back:
【Let’s go. 】

----

Before the sun had completely set, Exter's welcoming banquet had already begun.

Led by the king's aide, Myrk, and a host of servants, Thales walked beside Putila, followed by Rolf and Wyah... As for Eda, everyone agreed that she was not suited for such an operation.

"I don't know Your Highness's understanding of banquets in the North, but I must remind you that the distinguished guests from the Stars may not be used to our banquets," Lord Mailke said expressionlessly, "and tonight is rather special..."

Thales responded with a friendly and understanding smile.

They walked on the rough floor tiles of Valhalla, ascending the stone steps.

"The Banquet Hall is where King Nekaru hosted the Nine Knights. It is said that the banquet for the heroes of the North lasted for three days and three nights, and they ate almost all the spoils they had acquired during their campaigns," Myrk said respectfully as he introduced them to the place they were about to visit. "It was also in this place that, amidst cheers inside and outside the castle, Nekaru Ex was elected king."

Thales stepped onto the last stone step and arrived at the sixth-floor corridor of Valhalla.

A lively, noisy atmosphere filled the air.

The floor of this level is almost seven or eight meters above the ceiling. There are numerous braziers here, all set up on shelves and evenly arranged throughout the corridor, burning brightly and illuminating Valhalla as if it were daytime after sunset.

Unlike the corridors on other floors that are filled with rooms, this floor's corridor has only a single, thick wooden double door in the very center. Servants come and go with cheerful expressions, carrying trays or wine barrels.

Thales took a deep breath, exchanged a glance with his subordinates, and, led by Myrk, stepped into the banquet hall of Valhalla.

The cacophony of voices, the clinking of glasses, the tearing of flesh with knives, and even the sounds of arguing gradually grew louder and began to assault and torment his ears.

Thales looked up and saw the hall clearly.

This was a circular hall with triangular banners bearing the symbol of the Cloud Dragon Spear hanging on the walls. Braziers burned brightly in every corner, and several bright, ever-burning pendant lights hung from the ceiling (thankfully, Thales thought the only lighting fixtures in Valhalla were braziers). Servants appeared from time to time at the side doors and barbecue grills, bringing wave after wave of food and drinks to the hall.

The banquet hall was large enough to hold several hundred people—and it was still so today, with at least a couple hundred people sitting around a dozen or so rectangular tables placed in parallel. These tables were perpendicular to the entrance, leaving a passageway in the center of the hall large enough for servants and guests to move around.

Thales frowned and looked around. He couldn't see the parts of the hall that were far away because of his height, so Putila whispered the explanations in his ear.

But the atmosphere inside was quite lively.

Servants bustling about carrying trays, boorish nobles arguing loudly at the table until their faces were red, guests who had been drinking until their faces were flushed, and lecherous nobles who, emboldened by alcohol, would occasionally laugh and grope the buttocks of passing maids, causing a commotion.

The five grand dukes, each with a distinct expression, sat at the head of one of the five long tables: Grand Duke Aurelius, with his bushy beard, looked displeased, absentmindedly swirling his wine glass, surrounded almost entirely by family knights or subordinate lords wearing triangular insignia; Grand Duke Trudida, with his bowl-cut hair, laughed heartily with his entourage, seemingly at ease in social situations; Grand Duke Lyco, bald, sat with Marquis Slays of the Comass Alliance, attentively listening to the latter's slow and deliberate speech; Grand Duke Ronnie, with his long hair, remained serious, seemingly radiating a cold aura, his table the quietest, no one daring to approach him, only his servants and subordinates occasionally adding food or wine to his cup; the young Grand Duke Pefit, with a smile, raised his glass, talking to the various nobles sitting around him, some of whom were unclear whether they were subordinate lords or attendants, the latter nodding frequently, before all drinking their wine in one gulp.

What a lively scene of clinking glasses and exchanging toasts—it was practically a replica of the drinking and socializing between the northern villagers and soldiers back in Aikou Village.

If Thales hadn't looked up and seen King Nunn VII, surrounded by his guards and silently drinking among his close advisors, sitting on a raised table at the far end of the hall, he would have almost forgotten the hidden dangers and intrigues of the evening.

And we almost forgot that among these five high-ranking officials was a cunning schemer who dared to plot against the princes of both countries.

"I didn't know the banquet had already started," Thales said, turning his head with a helpless expression.

“Most of the nobles are already seated,” Myrk said calmly. “His Majesty Nunn is awaiting your arrival.”

Thales squinted and finally caught a glimpse of King Nunn VII in the distance, noticing that he still had a cold expression on his face.

The king seemed to notice his gaze, his aged but still sharp eyes sweeping in their direction.

"Then it's about to begin," Putila muttered intentionally or unintentionally from behind.

Thales sighed inwardly.

A few seconds later, at Michael's prompting, the waiter announced his identity in a loud voice:

"Distinguished guest from the Star Kingdom, His Highness Prince Thales Starlight!"

The sound traveled to every corner of the hall, and even echoed.

The noisy banquet suddenly fell silent.

At the dozen or so long tables, almost everyone stopped what they were doing—whether drinking, cutting meat, chatting, fighting, or even flirting with the maids, countless eyes were turned toward them.

Even many servants, guards on duty, and even the bayonet guards were looking in this direction.

Thales recognized the feeling—the last time was at the national conference in the Hall of Stars in Everstar City.

"Should I laugh now?" Sensing the various gazes ranging from malice and murderous intent to curiosity and friendliness, Thales' expression remained unchanged, his lips moving slightly: "Or would it be more in line with my identity as a prince of an enemy kingdom to put on a deadpan face?"

“Relax, relax. They started early and didn’t even arrange the seating order... so you don’t need to be alarmed or on high alert.” Putila looked at the anxious prince and sighed, “Your expression doesn’t matter. You are just a flag called ‘Star’ now.”

With a blank expression, Miles nodded to Thales and politely extended his right hand, gesturing for him to step forward.

"Should I just walk straight ahead like this? Or stay behind and wait for someone to call me?" Ignoring Myrk, Thales frowned under the pressure of everyone's gaze and asked Putile in a low voice.

“If this were Starry Night, of course we would wait for the host to send someone to escort you to your seat, but this is Exter,” Putila frowned as she glanced at the messy hall, where many guests seemed to have given up on the temptation of curiosity and had even begun to tear at the food that was served to them. “Don’t expect so much etiquette—walk straight to your seat without looking to the side. I guess it’s the one next to King Nunn.”

Thales gave a smile that he imagined a "prince" should have—neither humble nor arrogant, yet kind and approachable—and walked forward.

Unlike Xingchen, who always emphasized rules and etiquette, there wasn't even a carpet in the banquet hall. Stepping on the uneven floor tiles, he felt like he had returned to an abandoned house.

He walked past the long table, and whispers reached his ears; his excellent hearing proved its worth at that moment:

"That greenhorn prince?"

"I heard it's been lost for many years..."

"Seven years old? Are you kidding me?"

"The Star People have made him sound like a god, you know, a genius... Hmph!"

"So, our army is stuck because of this child?"

"Black Sand Territory suffered a humiliating defeat at the border... The Wrath of the Kingdom..."

"The Lumba army brought him here..."

"If this war is to continue, it will inevitably have to wait until spring..."

Thales walked straight ahead without looking to either side, toward Nunn VII, who was also staring at him with an unreadable gaze.

Finally, more and more nobles lost their curiosity, gave up the idea of ​​seeing the prince's face, and returned to the rhythm of the banquet.

The nobles of the North were quite different from their counterparts in the Stars. The latter always behaved elegantly in the Hall of Stars. Even the country nobles sitting on the outermost edge would try their best to appear civilized, both in their behavior and their clothing. This made the three major Northern families, led by Arend, Forrest, and Zemutor, and their subordinate nobles stand out among the lords of the Stars.

But these northern nobles, though different in status and personality, all behaved like rough men: from their posture to their eating habits, from their appearance to their clothing, even when drinking, they would deliberately make gurgling noises, let a few drops run down their beards, and then slam the bottom of their cups on the table, loudly criticizing their opponents or being criticized by them.

As Thales silently observed the behavior of the nobles, he moved between the long tables on both sides and noticed that, apart from the maids, there were almost no women at the banquet.

“Those who will be here, at the back of the banquet hall, are all low-ranking nobles, close advisors of the lord, meritorious knights, specially invited bureaucrats, and so on,” Putilae casually reminded him from behind. “The well-dressed one to your left is just a servant serving food. The one in the corner to your right, roasting meat on the stove, looks like a servant, but is actually the Goose Master in charge of cooking meat. It’s more of an honorary title passed down from ancient times, usually held by a close advisor trusted by the lord.”

"Let a close advisor roast meat—the official in charge of the goose? Why?" Thales didn't turn around. He asked in confusion, "Shouldn't that be the job of the kitchen staff? Or is it some kind of honor?"

“Hmph, my prince,” Putila said calmly, “do you know how many assassination and poisoning attempts in the history of the empire originated in that quiet corner where people were grilling meat?”

Thales shut his mouth and stopped talking.

They walked past the middle of the long table, and sure enough, from there onwards, the "quality" of the northern nobles seemed to rise along with their status. There was much less pointing and whispering among the banquet crowd, but the exchange of glances in silence and the cryptic whispers increased dramatically.

"The open space in the center of the hall... in Starry Sky or Anrenzo, it would be a dance floor and performance area, but in the North," Putile walked past several guests with unpleasant expressions, ignoring the low curses of a rude nobleman beside him, pointed to a circular open space in the center of the hall, and twitched his cheek: "In my experience, when the drinking is in full swing, you shouldn't be surprised if you see two burly men fighting tooth and nail on that space."

Thales frowned when he heard Putila use vulgar language for the first time: "Is it really appropriate to use such language with a prince?"

“When in Rome, do as the Romans do,” Putila shook his head. “Years ago, I even saw a noble princess of Exeter standing in the street hurling insults like ‘***’. Besides, I think even as a prince, you’re quite used to these kinds of words.”

“Ah, as your prince, I am like the noble prince in many poems and legends,” Thales said, glancing at the several grand dukes already seated in the distance, subtly concealing his true feelings: “I have experienced the hardships of the common people, and I am both virtuous and kind.”

Putila gave a noncommittal hum.

They finally reached the end of the long table.

Among those closest to them, the highest-ranking was Archduke Aurelius.

"No music and bards, no clowns and farces, no beautiful women, no busty maids, no roasted pigs, no warriors taunting each other, no merriment with the people in tents scattered throughout the city," Thales heard Grand Duke Aurelius complain unhappily to the lords around him, then turned and shouted angrily in the direction of King Nunn:
"What the hell kind of banquet is this?"

To Thales' surprise, many northern nobles echoed his sentiments, launching a tidal wave of protests in the direction of King Nunn.

Like a vegetable market… Thales sighed, then suddenly remembered that he had given the same assessment of the State Affairs Conference before, and was taken aback.

But King Nunn simply stared coldly at the chaotic nobles below the stage, without reacting.

A loud yet sarcastic voice rang out from another long table, responding to Aurelius:
“First, this is on the eve of the bitter cold. Except for madmen like Rumba, the entire North is tightening its belt and stockpiling food in preparation for winter. Second,” Grand Duke Trudida, with his bowl-cut hair, squinted as he stood up, looking at Prince Thales, who was sitting uneasily in the center of the room, from afar:
"This banquet is to welcome that unpopular Prince of the Stars!"

The nobles around him rose to their feet and booed. Thales and the Stars almost simultaneously frowned.

“Finally, Rebian Aurelius, when you live in someone else’s castle and palace, eat his food and drink his… heh heh, and maybe even fuck him,” Grand Duke Trudida glanced at the large-bottomed maid and gave an amused smile, “then you’d better not interfere with your master’s arrangements.”

Some northern nobles let out ambiguous laughter.

Aurelius shook his head dismissively and sat back down in his chair.

Thales finally came before King Nunn and bowed slightly to him.

King Nuen gazed at him, his emerald green eyes filled with complex emotions.

This made Thales extremely uneasy.

From the moment he stepped into Exter, every lord he encountered—Grand Duke Lombard, Viscount Cambida, and even the five grand dukes present—was no ordinary person. But Thales, having weathered many storms, was able to calmly face their hostility, coercion, oppression, and even murderous intent.

Because Thales knew exactly what they wanted.

Only the old king before him, the king who had already reached the pinnacle of power in Exter, was someone he couldn't fathom.

The strange emotions hidden in the other person's eyes, the act of forcing him to cooperate with the revenge, and his words and actions in the council hall all made Thales feel a chill in his heart—even though their conversation was only a few words long.

Unpredictable people are always scary.

King Nunn slowly stood up and raised his hand to Nikolai, the leader of the White Blade Guard behind him.

Nicolai nodded and walked up to Thales: "Please take a seat. Your seat is at the far left of His Majesty."

Thales turned his head and looked at the last unused seat at the far end of the row of tables.

Although I'm in the same row as the king, I'm still quite far from King Nunn.

It was practically a corner.

Putila sighed behind him.

Thales shrugged and walked nonchalantly to his seat.

Rolf and Wyatt followed closely behind.

But before he could even settle into his seat, a familiar yet unfamiliar aged voice rang out in the hall:

"Everyone, let's raise a glass!"

Thales turned his head in a daze. Putila, who was beside him, remained unchanged and handed him a glass of rye wine in an iron glass with great experience.

"A toast," the thin deputy envoy said calmly.

Thales turned his head and watched as King Nunn, who had just lost his son, left his seat, raised his wine glass, and loudly proclaimed to the entire hall:
"Welcome to our guest... the second prince from the Star Kingdom—Tales Shining Star!"

The noise that had resurfaced in the hall fell silent once more.

The old king slowly stepped out of his seat and walked to the front of the hall.

Like an old lion taking dangerous steps, stepping out of its territory and into the territory of another pride.

The five dukes stared intently at him, raising their cups in the distance, their expressions varied.

May the north wind measure his courage, and the ice and snow wash away his perseverance!

"For reasons you all know, I cannot greet his arrival with joy," King Nunn said, glancing around with a resolute expression and cold tone, "but he is already here!"

All the nobles present listened quietly to their king's speech.

Many eyes turned toward Thales' corner.

“Then let no one doubt the passion of the Northmen and the resilience of the Exter people—not even mortal enemies!” King Nunn tapped his wine glass, a dignified air appearing on his wrinkled face, his tone still faintly revealing the boldness of his youth:

"Even if we have to fight to the death tomorrow, we must first uphold our traditions!"

Under the watchful eyes of the crowd, King Nunn raised his wine cup and roared, "For Exter!"

At that moment, everyone in the hall raised their glasses and roared in unison:

"For Exter!"

King Nuen's gaze sharpened, and he spoke again, shouting a second time: "For the North!"

The guests responded to him with a resounding roar: "For the North!"

The surging roar filled the entire hall like thunder, deafeningly loud.

The next moment, King Nuen swiftly downed the wine in his glass.

As he made his move, the nobles in the hall all straightened up and began to drink. For a moment, the only sound in the banquet hall was the gurgling of countless throats.

Thales frowned, holding the heavy iron goblet in both hands, and reluctantly took a sip under the watchful eyes of many behind him.

After finishing his wine, King Nuen turned around with a furious expression and slammed the bottom of his wine glass heavily onto the long table!

"Boom!"

The nobles in the hall all simultaneously slammed their wine glasses heavily on the table in front of them.

"Thump!" "Thump!" "Thump!"...

King Nuen raised his head again and, under the diverse gazes of the hall, roared:
"come!"

"Eat! Drink! Fight! Exercise! Do whatever you want!"

For a split second, Thales was truly stunned.

What the hell is this toast?

With a fanatical expression, King Nunn VII, in a deep, aged voice, shouted at the guests in his heavily accented Common Tongue, "Until you are carried out of my palace lying down, rolling, limp, crawling!"

"You bastards!"

A second later, the guests in the hall erupted in the same fervent response, echoing throughout the banquet hall like a tidal wave!

Many northerners waved their fists and howled like wild beasts, indicating their support for the king's banquet.

The guests resumed their banquet, enjoying themselves immensely with clinking glasses and flushed faces.

The entire hall instantly returned to chaos, noise, and liveliness, even more so than before!
“A distinctive toast,” Putila whispered in Thales’ ear, “a northern style.”

“You don’t need to remind me of that,” Thales rolled his eyes, looking helpless. “I can tell.”

Just then, King Nunn, who had returned to his seat, suddenly turned his head and gave Thales a meaningful look.

Thales felt a chill run down his spine.

He read the message in the king's gaze.

He also knew that the other party definitely didn't want him to enjoy the banquet.

But before he could turn around and discuss with his subordinates, an unexpected guest came to his seat to visit the second prince of the Starry Sky.

Thales was stunned.

Standing before him was a kind old woman wearing a red robe.

“Good night, Your Highness Thales,” the other person said, his eyes narrowed, his voice gentle, and his smile warm and reassuring. “My name is Cassan.”

Thales gave a friendly smile, seemingly unaware of what was going on.

Before he could answer, Putila spoke up first: "Is there anything special you need?"

In that instant, Thales noticed that Putila's face was extremely pale, and his body was even stiff, staring intently at the old woman in front of him.

The attendant behind him, Huaiya, also caught his breath.

Thales wondered: Did they seem to know this... old woman named Cassan?
Before Putila could finish speaking, his face turned pale, and he seemed to have difficulty even breathing as he opened his mouth to say, "Your Excellency..."

"Your Excellency the Scarlet Witch?"

Scarlet Witch?
Thales looked at the kind old woman in front of him with a puzzled expression.

Witch?

What the hell?

“Oh, it’s just that I’m feeling a bit homesick and wanted to ask Your Highness about your well-being,” the kind-looking Cassan said, squinting her eyes and shaking her head slightly, seemingly a little embarrassed. “How is my son doing in the Stars?”

son?

Thales was stunned again.

“Um,” the second prince replied with a perfectly learned smile he had picked up from a young duke, “may I ask who your son is?”

Cassans, known as the Scarlet Witch, smiled gently:
"Oh! Look at my memory, I forgot to mention it."

"My son, his star name is..."

The next second, to Thales's bewildered gaze, the usually amiable Granny Cassan seemed to be rubbing her hands together as if she were afraid of the cold...

He uttered a name that instantly changed his expression:

“Yordle…”

"Yordel Gatoh".

I'm so touched that even after taking a break from updating for the past few days, some readers are still willing to give me tips...

But I must say this: this trend must not be allowed to continue!

It gives me the illusion that I'll only get rewards if I stop updating... ORZ
That's right, donating money when updating is so much better ((?﹃?))

感谢这周打赏的书友“槿叔”“明·业火”（群内外号猎萝人，萝莉的萝）“会跳探戈的猪”“雷哥的小号”（卧槽居然是500(?﹃?)）“火火”、然梦、“戴程远”“石星陨”“雷霆82”（又是500）“神小川”、逍遥丶行、馒头妹、“虚妄入梦”“阿獭Sloth”“天马行空998”（500，yeah）。

And also "Tomorrow" (which greatly satisfied my little vanity), "Zhang Sheng Loves Dragons" (you should be able to live to see the end of the book), "Wan Shen Dao Tian", and "Xing Hui" who have been supporting this book on Qidian and Bookstore!
P.S. In light of reader feedback regarding the slow update schedule (you think I don't know this is a plea for more updates?! Get your clothes!), I've revised the extra update rules.



(End of this chapter)