Kingdom Bloodline

Chapter 229 The Strongest Pawn (Part 2)

Putila did not speak, but simply bowed her head silently.

Veteran Jenard sighed, and his gaze toward Thales slowly changed.

“As for the North, as for Exter, they will live under the lies and will of Rumba, and one day they may even have to worship this kingslayer as their king.” Thales turned his head.

Nikolai snorted.

“Walton never recovered,” the prince glanced at Nicolai and Miles, and chuckled softly. “It feels awful, doesn’t it?”

Putila exhaled, her brows furrowing.

"As for escaping?"

Thales continued, his voice hollow: "Leaving such a mess behind, where can we run to?"

The prince turned his head and scanned everyone.

“In the future, I will die in the war-torn city of Yongxing,” Thales said firmly. “Now, I will die in the intrigue-ridden city of Longxiao.”

"Is there a difference?" he demanded loudly.

No one speaks.

The silence was broken by a deep, powerful male voice.

"Of course!"

Everyone turned around in surprise.

The young guard, Cohen Karabyan, strode into the back hall, followed by Miranda and Raphael, their expressions subtle.

The tall, burly guard shouted, "Choose the latter, and at least all of us can die like men with penises..."

Miranda gave Cohen a cold look.

Raphael covered his mouth and coughed at just the right moment.

Cohen, who had been excited, froze and quickly added weakly:
"...and women."

Before anyone could ponder the significance of his words, Thales smiled slightly.

“Thank you for your support,” the second prince nodded and said kindly, “Mr. Kalabyan.”

Upon hearing the prince's approval, Cohen's eyes immediately crinkled into crescent moons with laughter: "Just call me Cohen, Your Highness Thales!"

Miranda snorted.

“That’s right,” Thales turned around, “Horace Star once said that.”

“Since there’s no way to retreat,” he surveyed the room, his gaze sweeping over everyone, “why not go all out to move forward?”

Putila clasped her hands together, her eyes filled with sorrow.

Cohen looked excited and eager to try.

Raphael remained calm, but his gaze was fixed, and his fingers were constantly rubbing together.

But Thales's gaze had already shifted to the people of the North.

“What do you say, Nikolai?” he asked steadily.

Nikolai frowned, staring intently at the prince.

“That’s impossible,” the Meteorite shook his head in denial. “You? The current you, the current us, are nothing compared to Rumba…”

But Thales interrupted him again.

"Do you remember your White Blade Guard, Commander Nikolai?" The Second Prince looked at him with unwavering eyes.

Nikolai's face turned pale, and his eyes froze.

“You may not remember,” Thales snorted, his eyes filled with seriousness, “but I do remember.”

Nikolai clenched his fist.

Michael, standing behind him, gripped his shoulder and shook his head slightly.

Thales let out a long sigh, gritted his teeth, and said bitterly as he recalled, "I remember those warriors."

"I remember them standing in front of 'Flying Locust Blade' with their own flesh and blood."

"I remember them holding hands, shielding us from deadly crossbow bolts."

"I remember them charging back at the enemy with their last breaths, swords raised."

Nicolai's face grew increasingly cold.

Almost everyone frowned.

“That was the Dragon Guard, the last sight of many of them,” Thales suddenly raised his head and asked in a drawn-out voice, “Do you remember, Commander?”

Boom!
Nikolai slammed his fist into the wall beside him.

"I trained them myself, I remember each and every one of their names, faces, and skills..." The Meteorite gritted his teeth, his eyes blazing with fury, and said, "Don't you dare lecture me here, you little brat from Brilliant Star..."

"I'm fucking teaching you a lesson!"

Thales seemed equally enraged. Without flinching, he stepped forward and roared at Nikolai, "Lord Serrey Nikolai, and that damn cowardly Meteor—damn, that title is awful!"

Nikolai's eyes blazed with fury, his face flushed, and he clenched his fists, ready to step forward.

Wyatt and Rolf instinctively shielded the prince, while Cohen and Miranda placed their hands on the hilts of their swords.

But Michael, standing beside the Meteorite, quickly stretched out his arms, his muscles bulging, and firmly pinned down the furious Nicolai: "Let him finish speaking!"

Speaking in unfamiliar swear words, Thales took a couple of breaths and gritted his teeth as he said:

"And you listen to me very carefully."

“I will not run away. I will go back to the place where we were utterly defeated by Rumba and were desperately trying to save our lives.”

The prince looked at everyone before him, from Putila to Wyatt, from Miranda to Raphael, from Michael to the little rascal, observing their expressions, and said in a deep voice:
"We must avenge the White Blade Guards and seek justice and truth for them."

"We need to prove that their sacrifices and contributions were not in vain."

“We are going to destroy Rumba’s schemes and plans, whatever they may be.”

"We are going to... save this city that has already shed too much blood."

After Thales finished speaking, he patted his chest.

Nikolai gritted his teeth and sneered, "This is suicide."

"It's just about choosing a more aesthetically pleasing way to die."

Thales looked up again.

“That’s right, we Star People are going to commit suicide,” he said coldly.

“Northerner,” the second prince pushed Wyatt aside, walked up to Nicolai, and stared at the Meteorite with eyes as sharp as swords:
Are you coming or not?

The air seemed to freeze.

Nikolai stared intently at the second prince of the stars.

The faces of the White Blade Guards appeared in his eyes one after another.

And that guy. Kaslan.

And him.

Nikolai's body began to tremble uncontrollably, a surge of power coursing through him.

Myrk's expression changed, and he gripped Nikolai's shoulders tighter and tighter.

Everyone watched this scene with bated breath.

After a while.

Nikolai suddenly swung his arm, breaking free from Michael's grip.

"Grass!"

He looked conflicted and spat fiercely.

The Meteorite looked behind Thales—at the nervous-looking little rascal.

Thales squinted.

“The Walton family’s orphan is right here,” Nicolai turned his head, his brows furrowed and his face contorted in pain. He looked at Michael, as if explaining something, “I can’t, I can’t risk harming her…”

He gritted his teeth, struggling to convince himself.

Indignant and resentful.

“But I want to help him.” A small female voice reached everyone’s ears.

Nikolai froze.

"What?" He looked down at the little girl in disbelief.

The little rascal seemed a bit scared, but she still forced herself to stay close to Thales.

The prince gave her an encouraging and grateful look.

thank you.

I am sorry.

The little rascal trembled slightly as she swallowed.

“I said I wanted to help Thales,” the girl said hesitantly, her voice lacking confidence. “No, I don’t want to run away anymore.”

Despite the strange looks from everyone, she bravely spoke up: "We, we are people from the North, aren't we?"

Nikolai and Mailer were both taken aback.

“The descendants of Walton have never shied away from battle.” The girl closed her eyes, as if that would give her some courage, her glasses slipping down her nose: “Before the complete annihilation, Solon Walton, the King of Wrath, fought for a day and a night with his axe.”

"Finally, he stared wide-eyed as Nightwing King tore off his head—even in defeat, he wanted to witness his own death."

The little rascal opened his eyes shakily, forced himself to look at Nicolai, whose gaze was like a knife, and said:

"We can't escape, and I don't want to escape."

Upon hearing this, Michael suddenly chuckled softly.

“You are a true Walton,” the former chief clerk of the king said, his eyes filled with sorrow, as if he had thought of something. “This… lady.”

The little rascal remembered Alex, shrank back, and retreated behind Thales, no longer daring to look into Miles' eyes.

“His Majesty’s choice was indeed correct.” Myrk laughed bitterly.

"What do you say, old friend?"

Nicolai's face gradually relaxed.

He let out a breath.

A few seconds later, the Meteorite also laughed.

The laughter was both relieved and desolate.

“Damn it,” Nicolai glared at Thales, then turned to Michael, “you can’t wear your tongue on your sleeve.”

Michael nodded, his expression somber: "I'll go get the boys ready right away."

Thales breathed a sigh of relief.

"So, what's your plan?" Nikolai said viciously. "Let me make it clear beforehand, I refuse to engage in a reckless boar charge, Your Highness of the Stars."

Thales narrowed his eyes: "You'll be satisfied—maybe."

"We've all probably gone mad." The Meteorite scoffed, "To actually listen to two kids—and go to our deaths?"

Putila sighed deeply and took a step forward at that moment.

His steady voice rang out: "What did Lord Hansen say?"

Putila looked at the taciturn Raphael: "Does the Secret Society agree as well? This is not a simple decision—it concerns the future of the kingdom, so it would be best to have the Secret Society's support and plan."

Raphael instantly attracted everyone's attention.

Or rather, Thales thought to himself: it was the Black Prophet who had attracted everyone's attention.

The young man from the secret service frowned slightly.

"Communication with Lord Raphael is temporarily unavailable," Raphael said calmly, seemingly unconcerned about the various gazes directed at him. "So, at this moment, here..."

His gaze sharpened: "I am the will of the Secret Service."

Putila reached into his robes, pulled out his favorite pipe, and absentmindedly filled it with tobacco: "So what you mean is?"

Raphael glanced at Miranda, who simply gripped her sword tightly, pursed her lips, and remained silent.

This reminded him of the little girl from twelve years ago.

At that time, she was also pursing her lips, shivering and curled up in the corner.

Curled up among the dead.

Raphael chuckled to himself.

The young man from the secret department turned his head, his eyes resolute and determined.

“Since it is the prince’s decision,” he said, still with his usual nonchalant and relaxed demeanor, but his words were quite formal: “The Secret Service will of course fully support it and provide all possible assistance.”

Thales nodded to Raphael.

“Besides, he’s not entirely without confidence.” Raphael glanced at Thales.

“Never mind,” Putila lowered his head, lit his pipe, and said wearily, “He was, after all, a shining star.”

Thales sighed: "Lord Putila Neman."

“Go ahead and do it,” Putila said, looking much calmer as he raised his head again and exhaled a puff of smoke. “If this is your will.”

"I will serve you wholeheartedly!"

Well, due to length constraints, I've changed the chapter titles. Chapter 41 is now titled "Looking for Trouble," and chapters 42 through 44 are now titled "The Strongest Pawn."

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(End of this chapter)