Kingdom Bloodline

Chapter 230 The Strongest Pawn (Part 2)

All eyes turned back to Thales.

Thales let out a breath and smiled.

“Where are the others?” Thales looked at the remaining people, narrowing his eyes. “What we’re doing is dangerous…it might cost us our lives.”

The remaining few people exchanged glances.

“I told you when we first met, Your Highness,” Wyatt said with a helpless yet resolute smile, “For the rest of my life, I will serve you.”

Thales shrugged.

“If you ask me,” the veteran Jenard raised an eyebrow slightly, “you and Duke John are certainly different in style—but why not?”

“Don’t look at me,” Willow said nervously, “I’ll go wherever everyone else goes.”

Rolf frowned when he saw Thales's gaze shift to him, and made two hand gestures in the air.

Don't ask.

Do it.

Thales smiled knowingly.

This tone.

Does he think he's still part of the Blood Bottle Gang?

“Very good, then we’ve reached an agreement,” Thales breathed a sigh of relief, looking at everyone, but his face immediately darkened: “Although this decision could very well kill us.”

No.

Thales sighed silently to himself.

In this plan, someone has to be sent to their death.

But since the decision has been made...

Thales's gaze sharpened.

"But what are you planning to do?" a discordant voice interrupted.

Everyone turned their heads.

“We only have a bunch of fleeing remnants, all wounded and hiding, plus the White Blade Guard, which is no more than a dozen people,” Miranda Aarond said coldly to the prince behind Cohen. “You’re just a seven or eight-year-old kid. What can you possibly do to overthrow Lumba and protect the North?”

Miss Arend's gaze was incredibly sharp, and her question was extremely pointed: "Even save the kingdom?"

"Same question," Nikolai retorted sarcastically, "You don't really want us to go and die, and then 'move' the people of Dragonsky City, do you?"

Thales lowered his head and remained silent for a few seconds.

"What do you think?" Prince Star asked calmly.

Everyone looked at each other.

Putila raised her eyebrows.

“If you ask me,” the deputy envoy exhaled a puff of smoke and said in a low voice, “we are no match for Rumba in any respect.”

Cohen crossed his arms and gave Raphael a questioning look, but the latter ignored him.

Putila calmly recounted, "Lumba has nearly two thousand men, the Black Sand Territory's standing army, which obeys orders without question. They disguise themselves as patrol teams and firmly occupy the First Gate, even controlling the Palace of Heroes."

Nicolai raised his head, his eyes flashing coldly: "Dragon Sky City is enough to suppress his army: gather the patrols and Walton's conscripts, with the White Blade Guard as the vanguard, and I will personally lead the attack. Whether it is the city gate or the Hall of Heroes, I guarantee they will not last a quarter of an hour."

“If you, as a minor lord, could conscript these troops under the proper pretext—which might take a whole day—and have them rampage through Dragonsreach without hesitation, following you to the gates and storm Valhalla,” Putila retorted calmly, “that would be true.”

Nikolai fell silent, forcing the words "That was my original plan" back down his throat.

Michael patted him on the back of the shoulder.

Putila sighed and continued, "His subordinates include the super-class swordsman Chloeshi, who knows our strengths and weaknesses, and even several extreme experts: whether it's Earthshaker or Fire Knight, a surprise attack could take us down in a short time."

Upon hearing this, Michael's expression visibly stiffened.

“He has allies like the Scarlet Witch, Slade, and Urad,” the crowd listened quietly to Putila’s analysis, their faces growing increasingly grim. “His intelligence network is impenetrable, and his connections are ubiquitous—I bet we’ll be discovered within five minutes of us approaching Valhalla or the First Gate.”

“Don’t forget Shadow Shield,” Thales sighed. “And maybe Saridon too.”

Upon hearing this, Putila's eyes dimmed: "Yes, and the Shadow Shield and Saridon."

“We are also at a significant disadvantage in terms of the situation,” the deputy envoy said, taking another puff of his pipe with a worried look on his face. “Your Highness, as well as we Starry Sky, are rumored to be the masterminds behind this. Apart from a few White Blade Guards and this neutral temple, we are isolated and helpless, and it is difficult for us to even show our faces in the light of day.”

Everyone's expression turned serious.

The excitement and passion from just now seemed to have vanished completely.

“Unless Lumba surrenders outright,” Putile put down his pipe and sighed, “I see no chance of victory at this point.”

Thales didn't speak; he simply observed everyone's expressions quietly.

“Then we might as well have Raphael find another disaster to help us,” Cohen shrugged irritably. “That would be faster.”

Many people raised their eyebrows.

Nikolai and Mailer looked at the young man from the Secret Service with unfriendly expressions.

“Yes,” Raphael scoffed, glancing at Cohen, “maybe we can even get a dragon to help us, then we’ll definitely win.”

Everyone else shook their heads.

The little rascal's expression shifted, and he unconsciously touched his glasses.

Rolf muttered something and nodded towards the Moon Goddess.

“Ah, now I understand what the mute meant.” Wyman looked at the Ghost of the Wind and sighed.

“He means, let’s pray directly to the Goddess of the Moon, that’s more reliable,” the prince’s attendant said, spreading his hands toward the statue under the gaze of the crowd. “At least you can still see her.”

Putila covered her forehead and sighed, "If we..."

"Are you finished?"

The second prince suddenly spoke up, interrupting Putila.

Thales raised his head and looked intently at everyone.

“A special teacher told me,” he said with a sly, confident smile, recalling that unforgettable battle and that unforgettable swordsman, “before the great battle began…”

Thales raised his right hand and gently tapped his forehead: "We need to change our minds first."

Everyone was stunned.

"Get a... brain transplant?" Miranda asked, puzzled.

Amidst the puzzled crowd, Raphael rolled his eyes, seemingly deep in thought.

Thales exhaled and began to work his brain, which had been working for several hours.

“The Black Sand Territory side seems to have the upper hand in every aspect, seizing the initiative at every turn,” he thought, recalling the scenes from last night and extracting key information: “They have taken control of the entire situation, and we are powerless to retaliate.”

Thinking of this, Thales smiled slightly.

How does flying dragon riding face lose?
But then his mood soured slightly: nobody in this world understands this joke.

Thinking of this, Thales raised his head and forced himself to stay alert.

Snapped!
“But,” the second prince said calmly, slamming his fist into his other hand, “really?” “You have another opinion?” Putila’s eyes gleamed. “Your Highness?”

“No,” Thales shook his head, surprisingly, “You’re right.”

“But even something as powerful as a calamity,” the prince raised his head, his eyes resolute, “cannot change people’s hearts or reverse the situation.”

"Even if they are powerful enough to destroy the capital of Exter, slaughter all the nobles of Exter, and even threaten every Northman with death, they cannot change the traditions of the North, cannot change the spirit of Exter, cannot force people to change their minds, and cannot destroy what is truly precious about this land."

Cohen rubbed his hair, his expression unchanged, but his eyes were filled with one word as he looked at Wyman—Huh?

Wyman shrugged at him: I don't understand.

Not only them, but Nikolai also frowned in confusion:
"What do you want to say?"

Thales' pupils contracted.

“What I want to say is,” the second prince said calmly, “that we should not limit our focus to a simple comparison of strength. The battle we are about to face is neither a contest of strength between two people, nor a game of counting pieces on a chessboard, nor a fair duel between ancient knights.”

“An army of one or two thousand men is nothing. They can’t change the minds of the nobles of Dragonshort City, and the warriors of Dragonshort City can crush them in a single encounter,” Thales said calmly, while constantly thinking about the doubts he had grasped: “Kaslan and Tuleha can kill any pawn with ease, but even if you tie the two of them together and multiply that number by ten, you still can’t make the dukes willingly support Rumba as king, and you can’t turn the truth that has already happened into a falsehood.”

"The Scarlet Witch may seem powerful, but without the support of the power she relies on, the eyes and ears of the secret room, including the secrets they possess, are nothing at all."

"The Shadow Shield and Saridon sound terrifying, but they can only carry out assassinations and espionage in the shadows. What truly sustains their survival is power, and the conflicts and contradictions that power generates. Without power, they are like fish out of water, utterly worthless."

“They are all just pawns of the Rumba: the cunning Cambida, the valiant Tuleha, the respected Kaslan, the all-pervasive Red Witch, the well-connected Marquis Slayth, and the disciplined Black Sand Army,” Thales said, shaking his head. “But we cannot be fooled by these chips and pawns.”

Raphael gave a faint smile: "Interesting."

This is such a familiar argument.

Miranda lowered her head, seemingly lost in thought.

Cohen opened his eyes wide and blinked three times in confusion: What's so interesting about it?

Thales took a deep breath, his eyes filled with utmost seriousness and solemnity:
"You must understand that none of these pieces can compare to the most powerful, terrifying, forceful, and unique piece on their chessboard."

The prince's voice drifted out ethereally: "Only that person is the greatest threat."

"That true powerhouse, the most terrifying existence in their camp."

No one spoke; everyone seemed to be thinking—even Cohen.

Raphael rubbed his fingers together, Miranda Mo stroked the hilt of his sword, Nicolai's eyes remained as cold as ice, and Michael looked at the little rascal with a meaningful gaze.

Putila seemed to have forgotten about smoking, letting the pipe burn in his hand, before tentatively asking, "You mean..."

Thales raised his eyes, visualizing the terrifying opponent in his mind.

“Yes,” he said absentmindedly, “an ambitious and courageous tyrant.”

Thales nodded casually, but his eyes were filled with apprehension and seriousness: "Their strongest piece."

He whispered the name:
"Chaman Lumba".

At that moment, everyone was stunned.

“We must not be misled by the appearances of the other pieces,” the prince said softly. “Just strike at the heart of the matter, and everything else will fall into place.”

Thales silently observed the various gazes and expressions of the others, without uttering a word.

Until Nicolai looked up in confusion.

"You mean," the Meteorite asked incredulously, "decapitation?"

"I understand," Cohen slapped his forehead before Thales could react, his eyes lighting up: "We'll do everything in our power to assassinate Rumba?"

Upon hearing what these two said, Thales almost coughed up blood.

He rolled his eyes, suddenly remembering what High Priest Holm had just said.

So the prince tried his best to appear nonchalant and scoffed, "You weren't listening to me."

Cohen was stunned for a moment, his eyes widening.

Nicolai looked like he had just eaten shit.

Thales let out a deep breath.

Oh my goodness.

No wonder...

So, after saying that, you see other people looking completely bewildered...

So enjoyable.

After savoring the feeling for a moment, Thales raised his eyebrows.

“I understand,” Miranda finally grasped Thales’ words: “What you’re thinking of isn’t to confront his armament head-on, but to bypass the periphery and directly shake Rumba’s fundamental goal?”

"Frustrate his intentions?"

Putila squinted.

“Yes, the root of the problem lies with Rumba,” the second prince smiled with satisfaction. “We will ascertain his intentions and then find his weaknesses.”

Everyone looked at each other.

“Easy for you to say,” Nicolai said disapprovingly. “What are Lumba’s weaknesses? What are his goals? And how are you going to thwart him?”

Thales blinked. "I have a guess about this—it remains to be seen."

"As for defeating him..."

“Since we’re going to deal with their strongest piece,” Thales took a deep breath, his eyes flashing with fire, “we should naturally put our strongest piece out on the battlefield where both sides are most unfamiliar with each other, most disadvantaged, and most isolated.”

Thales said decisively, "One round will decide the winner."

Miranda frowned.

"Wait, what did you just say," the female swordsman asked疑惑地, "our side's strongest piece?"

"you are right?"

Cohen glanced at the silent Raphael, then at Nikolai.

"Secret Bureau?" the guard asked tentatively, "Or the legendary anti-magic forces?"

Thales raised his eyebrows.

“You mean,” Putila glanced suspiciously at the sly boy, making the latter rather alarmed, “the last bloodline of Walton? The legitimate heir of Dragonrise City? But her gender…”

"The strongest piece," Nikolai lowered his arms, looked around, and asked in confusion, "Me at the pinnacle?"

Thales ignored the three guys, exhaling through his nose to suppress his displeasure.

“You’re right,” he said, ignoring the others, his eyes blazing with the fire of battle, just as he had when facing the Blood Mage, eager to prove himself. “Our strongest piece…”

The second prince smiled, extended his right hand, tapped his chest, and called out a name:
“His name is Thales Star.”

Okay, I've written 12000 words today, so I've paid off my debt of tips.

Wait, have I ever stayed up past midnight before? (Looks shocked and confused)

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(End of this chapter)