Kingdom Bloodline

Chapter 210 The Significance of Dragon Blood

No one speaks.

There was dead silence in the cell.

"Any more questions?" the Black Prophet's voice came coldly.

No one answered.

Until a clear, childlike male voice rang out:

"Yes."

All eyes turned to Thales once again.

But he didn't speak immediately.

Thales let out a long sigh.

He forced himself to banish thoughts of disaster and everything that disaster brought about from his mind.

The prince looked extremely tired, as if he was hesitating or deep in thought.

After a long while, the second prince's voice finally came through with difficulty:
"Your Majesty... did he know about this plan before I set off north?"

The Black Prophet did not speak.

But Thales already understood.

“So, the rumors weren’t wrong,” Thales raised his head with a gloomy expression, looked around at everyone, and his gaze lingered slightly on the bewildered little rascal: “The Star People colluded with the Calamity, murdered King Nunn, and wanted to incite civil war in Exter.”

A sense of powerlessness washed over him.

"why?"

Thales's mind flashed before his eyes the image of the old, weary, yet still imposing white-haired king, and he said dejectedly, "If it's to ensure that Exter doesn't invade the stars, then I can easily achieve that through diplomatic negotiations—in fact, we have already done so."

In his line of sight, the little rascal lowered his head deeply, his expression unreadable.

On the other side of the black hole, there is only boundless, deathly silence.

Raphael, however, gave a faint, undisguised smile.

"Just a few hours ago..."

Thales looked dejected, his eyes glazed over, as if he could see the king's head rolling to the ground again.

“King Nunn has proposed an alliance with us,” he said somberly, his voice hoarse, as if trying to weave the suffering and torment of the past few days into his words, “Walton and Shining Star.”

“We helped him keep the feudal lords in check and maintain Walton’s existence after King Nunn’s death. In exchange, he did his best to maintain peace between the two countries, giving us time to recuperate,” Thales said weakly, feeling a headache coming on and his mind in turmoil. “The predicament brought about by Morar’s death has been resolved, and now…”

Wyatt opened his mouth in surprise. Cohen paused for a moment, then seemed thoughtful. Miranda remained silent, her expression indifferent.

Thales closed his eyes and let out a long sigh, filled with exhaustion and weariness.

Now, everything King Nuen said has vanished with his death.

Disaster, Rumba, assassination.

The disaster in the Shield Zone.

This damn everything.

The strange black hole on Raphael's arm trembled.

"Hehehe haha..."

The Black Prophet's cold, hoarse laugh was the only response Thales received.

The laughter lasted for several seconds.

Thales' brows began to furrow.

"Put away your pointless naiveté, Your Highness—you weren't like this in the Hall of Stars," Morat's laughter finally turned into cold words, echoing eerily in the empty cell: "You really think we'd expect your mission to create a miracle and end the war?"

Hearing the Black Prophet's mocking words, Thales took a deep breath, suppressing his inner impulse and anger.

“The problem was already solved,” he said through gritted teeth. “With the power of Dragoncity, Exter and Star could have lived in peace…”

"Solve it?" the Black Prophet interrupted him.

"Of course, the genius prince used his superb skills to persuade King Nunn to stop causing trouble for the stars," the Black Prophet said calmly, his words filled with what Thales found both clumsy and unpleasant mockery: "The two friendly nations have since ushered in peace..."

"How long?" until the head of the secret service changed the subject: "Five years? Ten years? Or fifteen years?"

Thales let out an impatient sigh.

With an extremely unsettling rhythm, the Black Prophet's cold laugh slowly rang out.

"My lord, do you really believe that a simple alliance between two families can maintain peace between our two nations?"

"Do you think that a prince waving goodbye to Dragonrise City from horseback and nodding to the dukes in a secret chamber can quell the dragons' ambition and greed?" The Black Prophet's voice suddenly rose, becoming solemn and stern:

“Even Tormund and Nekaru from six hundred years ago couldn’t do this.”

Thales was slightly taken aback.

"Do you know how many times King Nunn dreamed of planting the black and red dragon flag on Dragonbreaker Fortress and bringing the northern part of the Starfield under the rule of the Exter people over the past thirty years?" The words of the Secret Society leader were like the forked tongue of a viper, rustling and causing inexplicable fear.

"It's been twelve years. From king to grand duke, from noble to commoner, they've all dreamed of going south again," the Black Prophet sneered. "The three grand dukes' provocations at the border have never ceased, and Dragonsreach's provocations have been ongoing every year—what do you think Prince Moral's mission to the stars was for?"

Revising the Fortress Treaty—Cohen lowered his eyelids and silently added a sentence in his heart.

Thales stared silently at the strange black hole on Raphael's arm.

“They are no nobody,” the Black Prophet’s words came slowly from the black hole in the young man’s arm: “They are Northmen, Northmen born to fight with swords, Northmen renowned since the beginning of time—you’d better keep that in mind for the rest of your life, Your Highness.”

"They have the ancient northern tradition of taking pride in joining the army and killing the enemy, the strong physique honed in the cold and hardship, and the tenacious army forged with iron and blood and honor."

"They have hunter civilians who can draw their pine longbows halfway without any training, invincible heavy cavalry who are good at charging through magic guns and spear formations, and Glacier Watch and White Blade Guard who dare to face orcs head-on."

"They also have conscripted soldiers who have no complaints about service and sacrifice, who can travel dozens of miles a day on just a few pieces of bread in winter, and elite standing armies that train three times a year in various territories and can withstand 70% casualties without collapsing." Morat's words carried a chilling aura.

"They were born for war."

As Miranda listened to all this, her expression grew colder and colder. Recalling the battles of the past three years, her fists slowly clenched.

The Black Prophet paused for a second, and the lights in the cell seemed to dim further, casting shadows over everyone's faces.

Thales pursed his lips: "But..."

The Black Prophet didn't let him continue.

"Little Prince, did you witness the war that took place twelve years ago?"

The Black Prophet's words caused Miranda, who was supporting Raphael, to freeze, and the female swordsman couldn't help but frown slightly.

"Have you ever seen the heavy cavalry of the North come crashing down like an earthquake, with heavy swordsmen and axemen surging up the city walls in overwhelming numbers? Have you ever heard the battering rams pounding the city gates and the catapults pounding the walls? Have you ever seen the carnage of corpses strewn across the fields and the starving dead everywhere? Have you ever seen the hopeless eyes of the starving people wandering around in a daze? Do you know how long the desolation and bleakness of the North has lasted?"

Thales clenched his fist, but felt that he had nowhere to vent his strength, and the scar on his palm began to ache again.

Before his eyes flashed the image of the light infantrymen—the northerners—who had sworn to besiege them to the death and who had not retreated in the face of the ferocious Arakka Mu at the Broken Dragon Fortress.

At the same time, Miranda's face turned deathly pale.

She seemed to be seeing her past all over again.

A nightmarish past.

That vast expanse of white snow.

Raphael pursed his lips slightly, and he intentionally or unintentionally grasped the female swordsman's hand, applying a little force.

Cohen, who had witnessed all of this, sighed inwardly.

Miranda, and Raphael.

Those two were the ones who experienced those disasters most directly.

Thales stared at the writhing black hole, his mind in turmoil. He swallowed hard and sighed, "We've reached a consensus—Nun is old. What he needs to worry about is what will happen after the King's death, the survival of Walton and the Cloud Dragon Spear, and the power struggle between Dragoncity and the Grand Dukes, not Starfall..."

This time, it was the young man with red eyes who answered him.

“You’ve hit the nail on the head, Your Highness,” Raphael said, raising his head slightly, his red eyes gleaming under the ever-burning lamplight. “The biggest problem is: Nunn is old.”

“Yes, he might still be able to use his influence and remaining power to restrain Exter, suppress the nine Grand Dukes, and keep Dragonslayer Fortress and the North quiet for a few years,” the young man from the Secret Service said coldly, “but what about after that?”

Thales's breath hitched.

The already unpleasant, foul air in the cell seemed even more oppressive.

A long sigh came from the other side of the black hole. "In Exter after King Nunn's death, it doesn't matter who ascends the throne," the Black Prophet's voice seemed to carry a hint of weariness, "but what means do you think the new king will use to reap the greatest benefits and reputation with the least cost, in order to prove, accumulate, and consolidate his position and prestige as the succeeding king?"

"What means will he use to appease the dukes who lost the election, and what rewards will he offer to those who supported him?"

Thales closed his eyes and exhaled a long-suppressed breath.

He knew what the Black Prophet was going to say.

“Isn’t it the Star Kingdom in the south, weakened and insecure due to the disaster twelve years ago, with an unstable royal family?” Morat’s voice turned icy cold. “Isn’t it the Coldhold, Watchtower, Lonely Tower, and Dragonslayer Fortress that Exster has coveted for three or four hundred years? Isn’t it the supreme glory of reunifying the Great Northland, where their ancestors have lived for generations?”

Thales felt a slight jolt in his heart.

He unconsciously glanced at the rascal, a terrible thought popping into his mind.

King Nuen arranged for him to marry his granddaughter.

With the mutual support between Canxing and Walton, their future offspring will consist of one person inheriting Canxing's surname and the other inheriting Walton's clan name.

From then on, the Star Kingdom had an excuse to interfere in the internal affairs of Dragonsky City and restrain Exter, which could both ensure Walton's survival and increase the Star Kingdom's prestige and bargaining power.

but……

What about the reverse?

If something were to happen to him—Tales himself—would the Kingdom of Exter and Dragon City then have the leverage to interfere with the Starry Sky Royal Family and make demands on the Starry Sky?
Thinking of this, Thales felt a chill in his heart.

He suddenly remembered the one-eyed duke of the Stars, the family motto of Kusder Nanthurst: "War must have a price, victory must have a reward."

Raphael calmly released Miranda's wrist and took over his superior's words, "Defeat the stars, take the fortress, unify the North—achieving any one of these three goals would be enough to enhance the new king's crown and lay the foundation for the monarch's throne."

The Black Prophet's cold snort echoed in the air, even causing the black hole in Raphael's hand to tremble.

"The conflict between the Star Kingdom and Exter will never disappear because of a decision made by one family or clan, not even when you are crowned in the future," Morat said calmly. "We fear them."

"Just as they also fear us."

"So, given the opportunity, the benefits, and the conditions—how could they not head south?"

Thales lowered his head.

The Black Prophet's words gave him a tangible pressure.

“Once they march south—facing such an opponent, how long do you think we, with our orphans, widows, and remnants in the North, can hold out?”

"Lady Sonia Satherley is known as the Flower of the Fortress and is stationed at Dragonslayer Fortress. People say that as long as Sonia blooms, the fortress will be impregnable—it seems glamorous, but did you know that on the very first day she set out to guard the fortress, she made a will and entrusted it to the royal family for safekeeping, and it has been twelve years since then?"

"Because she knew that one day in the future—when the north wind howls and the dragon roars into the sky, the flower of the fortress will wither in the north and never return."

"Do you know the price we paid to secure the peace of the Fortress Treaty? Do you think it was all thanks to 'Star Fox's' smooth talk?"

"And do you know the price we paid to maintain this fragile peace, to protect the dying North and the weakened kingdom from the ravages of war?"

Thales' words were stuck in his throat, and he felt an indescribable sense of frustration welling up inside him.

"The nobles are all complaining about His Majesty, complaining about why he led a weak and vulnerable nation to fight that pointless desert war five years ago," the Black Prophet's voice sounded chilling and indifferent, yet it contained a chilling power within it.
"However, those bloated, short-sighted parasites will not know, nor do they want to know: the stars after the Bloodstained Years, if we do not fight that seemingly insane desert war, if we do not demonstrate our national strength with a desperate victory, if we do not wash away our resolve with blood at a terrible cost, if we do not prove that our swords are still sharp and incomparable with the skulls of orcs and the altars of the Bone People..."

Upon hearing this, Cohen suddenly realized something, and Wyman even cracked his knuckles as he gripped the hilt of his sword.

The Black Prophet's voice continued: "I'm afraid that as early as five years ago, in the winter, the 'Born King' Nun VII, who covered the entire northern sky and dominated the whole northern land, would have torn up the Fortress Treaty and brought the fully armed northern people all over the mountains and plains to reclaim what they had lost at the negotiating table."

"Where is there any 'later,' where is any controversy over the royal succession—where is there any day when you are addressed as Your Highness!"

"Do you think there won't be another monarch like Nún after him?"

Thales remained silent, staring intently at the empty ground.

Raphael nodded slowly. The young man picked up where the Black Prophet left off, saying expressionlessly, "Five years have passed, and Exter has gradually figured out our trump card. The deceptive and deterrent effects of the Desert War are no longer there. As you saw in the Hall of Stars, with just a little push from Rumba and Aarond, the division between the royal family and the nobility has emboldened those northerners."

"Why should we perform the 'Dragon Blood' ritual?" Raphael lowered his head and spoke calmly in the darkness:

"This is the answer, and the meaning of 'Dragon's Blood'."

“What we want is not a few years of false peace, not years of constant fear, not repeated dangerous negotiations and standoffs,” Raphael said, his face pale, his eyes bloodshot, his expression complex, as he bowed slightly to the prince.
"It is not that the kingdom's disadvantages will be exacerbated, but that the northern part of the starry sky will enjoy decades or even centuries of peace and stability, long enough for the starry sky to recover from the great wounds of the bloody year, long enough for your family's surname and rule to become stable again, long enough for us to become strong again, fearless, just like before."

"Under this objective, even the life and death of King Nuen become insignificant."

Thales looked up, a realization dawning on him.

"Lumba's actions mark the shattering of the myth of Exte since its founding, proving that the so-called Nekaru co-rule oath was nothing but empty words, and the creeds that the North held dear were also powerless," Raphael smiled slightly. "More importantly, a grand duke has openly murdered his king—there is now a precedent."

“The earliest precedent was the late Grand Duke Tann of Weyland,” Thales scoffed weakly, his gaze drifting intentionally or unintentionally toward the little rascal. “He was far from the first.”

The cunning little fellow, who hadn't dared to utter a sound since just now, raised his eyes and met Thales' gaze, only to see endless exhaustion and gloom in the latter's eyes.

Raphael frowned slightly, his words faltering.

"I understand now."

Thales sighed, his own understanding coming to mind.

“What you need is not revenge, not rebellion, not even the death of anyone,” the second prince said with a deep sigh, taking over their words: “but to tear off the disguise and embellishment of the Nekaru Oath, to expose the deepest contradiction within Exeter—the antagonism between the King and the Grand Duke—and to ignite it into an uncontrollable chaos.”

For example, if a Grand Duke of Exter succeeds in murdering his king through violence and conspiracy, it will bring unparalleled shock to the children of the North Wind and the Dragon, deal a devastating blow to the Northland beliefs forged by Nekaru, and shatter the principles that ten Grand Dukes have upheld for nearly seven centuries.

For example, the legend of heroes and dragons founding the kingdom stirs up thoughts that the dukes shouldn't have, stirs up their strange ideas outside the election council, stirs up their different ambitions outside the co-rule oath, and stirs up their greedy thoughts that they can only think about in the dead of night during the six hundred years of Exter.

More importantly, and more urgently:
The death of Nunn, the rebellion of Lumba, and even the possible civil war in Exter that followed—this would cast a shadow and set a precedent for the next King of Exter, bringing unprecedented vigilance and suspicion to the new king and his nine co-ruling dukes, and also bringing the dukes endless distrust of their co-ruling king.

By then, the feat of King Nuen, who once gathered seven dukes and hundreds of thousands of troops to invade the south and cross the Broken Dragon Fortress, would probably never be so easy to achieve again.

Raphael nodded in affirmation.

Even after understanding the reasons behind the secret mission, Thales still couldn't be happy.

His heart remained heavy, as if a sharp thorn lay across it, making him uneasy at all times.

For some reason, Kessel's words reappeared before his eyes:

Fight for the stars, die for the stars, live for the stars.

Thales shook his head, as if that would lighten his heavy mood a little.

Clearly, he failed.

"Did the secret mission succeed?" Thales finally sighed and asked the question he most wanted to ask: "If it succeeded, why am I here?"

The black hole trembled again—the Black Prophet spoke.

To Thales' surprise, Morat Hansen actually asked a question this time: "I'm also very curious, what exactly is going on in Dragon City?"

Raphael's expression changed, and he became serious.

"According to the plan, you should be staying in the Palace of Heroes, spending the night as a distinguished guest of Exeter under heavy guard, and returning home through our negotiations with the lords who are now at odds with each other, while maintaining a neutral status," the young man from the Secret Society said with a slightly heavy tone. "But for some reason, King Nunn decided to leave the Palace of Heroes and took you out of the palace—so that you fell into the hands of Lumba."

Thales felt a chill run down his spine; the person who led him out of Valhalla was not Nunn.

But...

He couldn't help but glance at the little rascal—she had seen Ashida before.

I've also seen the Black Sword and witnessed their confrontation.

"Anything else?" the prince asked calmly, intentionally or unintentionally omitting the question.

“In addition,” Raphael raised an eyebrow slightly, “our plan encountered some unexpected problems.”

“There are still ten minutes until the time you mentioned,” Morat’s cold, hoarse voice was still unpleasant: “Tell me.”

Raphael's gaze sharpened as he surveyed the crowd, his eyes flashing with countless unfathomable thoughts.

Ultimately, these thoughts coalesced into three words, which he softly uttered:

"Disaster."

"And Rumba."

Thales: "Author, I feel so tired. When will I finally be able to relax, be happy, and feel carefree?"

Wu Jian turned around and stared intently at Thales: "Little Thales, remember this—only after the storm comes the rainbow."

Thales' eyes welled up with tears. He pouted and lowered his head in frustration: "Ah... well, author, when will the rain stop?"

Wu Jian smiled slightly, squatted down, and pinched Thales's little face:

"Guess."

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(End of this chapter)