Kingdom Bloodline

Chapter 241 A Genuine Patrol Team
Cohen stretched and yawned widely.

On the street, a little girl carrying a piece of cloth passed by and couldn't help but glance at the tall Cohen.

“Keep your movements down. A servant should act like a servant,” Raphael said, frowning as he walked beside Cohen. “There are northerners all around—there are bound to be rumba spies.”

Cohen snorted in dissatisfaction, but obediently lowered his head and pressed down his Northland linen cloak.

He touched his chin and sighed.

The dark face paint...it's not breathable, it feels a bit stuffy.

The guard glanced at the carriage behind him and frowned, asking, "Does this really work?"

Raphael ignored him, merely glancing at the carriage behind him before continuing forward.

Soon, Raphael saw their destination.

He is dreaming.

he knows.

This time, Thales knew very well: it was a dream.

A dream that felt strangely familiar.

In his dream, he was still sitting leisurely and happily in the classroom, listening to others talk about something:
“Poggi’s book mentions that in the process of developing from feudalism to absolutist rule, the hierarchical state—a German word, støndestaat, don’t bother looking it up in an English-Chinese dictionary—was an important stepping stone that cannot be ignored.”

“The emerging city groups demanded a stable and secure political and economic environment. Obviously, this was incompatible with the traditional lord-vassal model based on personal relationships. Therefore, for their own benefit, these city groups began to cooperate briefly with the rulers and began to participate in the rule through class councils and other means. Their emergence actually weakened the feudal elements and transformed the long-standing binary feudal system of monarch-lord and lord-vassal into a complex triangular relationship.”

"But this is far from the centralized power we imagine; it is merely the process by which this result was achieved: these third forces acknowledged and upheld the special status of the rulers, rather than treating them merely as peers like feudal lords; through the numerous taxes implemented by the class councils, the rulers strengthened themselves and reinforced their territorial control."

"The rulers also used this opportunity to grant privileges to the common people and recruit servants—in this process, a large, professional, prudent, and institutionalized public administration gradually took shape and laid the foundation for subsequent absolutist rule."

"Bureauracy, or bureaucracy—though I don't particularly like this translation as it might give you some negative subjective impressions—is a basic concept you should have encountered in your university textbooks. Students outside this major might want to read Weber's original works; although difficult, they are much more interesting than the secondhand summaries you get from textbooks..."

Boom!
A slight tremor woke Thales from his deep sleep.

"what happened?"

Inside the Commas carriage, Thales opened his sleepy eyes, frantically wiping the drool from the corner of his mouth, and groggily looked at the others in the carriage: "I...I fell asleep?"

Outside the carriages, the northern residents coming and going all looked worried. The White Blade Guards had already changed their clothes and dressed as ordinary northern servants. The Star People next to the caravan—including Cohen and Miranda—had changed into Commas clothing, matching the two Commas carriages with the rice stalk dagger emblem that Thales and his companions were riding in.

“Please calm down, Your Highness,” Putila, who was beside him, turned his head calmly, politely avoiding looking at the prince’s embarrassment, while observing the situation outside the carriage: “It looks like we are about to reach the first gate.”

Sure enough, at the end of the road outside the car, the outlines of the city gate and Valhalla came into view—many curious civilians wanted to get closer, but were driven away by the patrol team under the city gate.

When Thales first arrived in Dragon City, he stepped through the first city gate.

But it is now in the hands of the enemy.

Valhalla is right behind it.

Thales breathed a sigh of relief, calmed his pounding heart, and banished the dream from his mind.

His gaze fell on the serious-looking Nicolai across from him.

“It’s time,” the Meteorite looked up. “Let’s part ways here. I’ll go to the other carriage; we need to get Miss Walton with us…”

“As for you,” Nicolai squinted, “good luck.”

Thales exhaled through his nose.

“Thank you and your brothers, thank you for bringing us here,” the prince said, glancing out the window at the carriage behind them and frowning. “Take good care of her—being a Walton isn’t a good thing in this situation.”

"We'll take care of the rest."

Nikolai's face darkened.

But he immediately raised his head and looked at the prisoner beside him—Marquis Slays—and said hatefully, “Be smart, old friend, otherwise… I assure you, you don’t want to mess with a former commander of the White Blade Guard who is lurking in the shadows.”

With his mouth gagged and his hands tied behind his back, Slade nodded, managing to put on a calm and polite smile.

Unfortunately, his smile looked somewhat awkward because his mouth was covered.

Just now.

The carriage stopped.

Everyone in the car instinctively looked out the window.

Outside the vehicle, a dozen soldiers dressed in patrol uniforms waved to the convoy and walked towards them.

Behind them were at least several hundred colleagues, moving back and forth in all directions, seemingly forming a defensive line around the city gate.

"A patrol?" Thales exclaimed in shock. "Are they from Rumba?"

“Hmm, not only have they sealed off the city gates, but unexpectedly, they’ve also set up a cordon at such a great distance,” Putila squinted. “It seems they’re checking quite thoroughly—even though they know it’s fake, it really does look convincing.”

"Get ready, we need to get through this."

Thales' heart skipped a beat. He looked at the first city gate in the distance, imagining the Hall of Heroes behind it and the figures inside. He clenched his fists and his gaze became firm.

coming.

My battle.

Across from him, Nikolai's expression tightened.

The Meteorite cut the ropes binding Slade and then ripped the gag out of his mouth.

Putila smiled slightly at Srace: "It's time for you to demonstrate your negotiation skills, Your Excellency."

"Any idea what to do?"

Srace breathed a sigh of relief and leaned back in the carriage: "Lady Harvest above, of course, but I must say..."

The next moment, the Meteorite's hand instantly gripped Marquis Slay's shoulder.

The latter sprang up from the carriage as if he had been electrocuted.

“Behave yourself,” Nikolai’s voice held a hint of threat, “If I find out you’re up to no good…”

Slade was in so much pain that he broke out in a cold sweat.

“Relax, relax, Your Excellency,” the Commas man said, shaking his head awkwardly as he sweated. “If you want me to negotiate, you have to guarantee my safety, right?”

“I can’t guarantee your safety,” Nicolai said coldly, “but if anything happens, I guarantee you’ll die before us.”

To this, the understanding Shrews could only smile and say "I understand".

Thales took a deep breath and gave Putila a reassuring smile.

A dozen or so patrolmen entered the two carriages bearing the Commass logo, their expressions hostile as they looked at the northerners and foreigners surrounding them.

The car window was open.

"Good day, diligent sir."

"I am Slaybemula from Shanliu City," said the blond, ponytail-wearing, and elegant Marquis Slaybemula, his expression relaxed and his tone easy. He nodded slightly to a nobleman who appeared to be an order officer standing below the carriage.
"Excuse me, I have a very urgent matter to attend to and need to go to Valhalla. Could you please make an exception?"

The order officer paused slightly, "Commas people?"

Inside the carriage, everyone remained silent, waiting for Shrews to negotiate.

What if he suddenly changes his mind or...

Thales sighed.

Nicolai gently touched the hilt of his knife, staring intently at Slade's back.

“If you can’t make a decision, I think your boss should know me—I mean, your ‘direct supervisor’.” Srace smiled and nodded.

The order officer, who appeared to be the leader, frowned, turned around, patted the shoulder of a soldier next to him, and whispered a few words in his ear.

The latter seemed to have received an order and turned to leave. “Of course, I have heard of your name, sir, you are one of His Majesty’s distinguished guests,” the order officer raised his head and nodded respectfully to Srace, “but I am also sorry: every carriage that attempts to enter Valhalla, every nobleman who attempts to enter Valhalla, must be checked.”

"This is an order from the Prime Minister."

The moment the words were spoken, everyone in the carriage was startled!
Thales and Putila exchanged a glance and saw the surprise in each other's eyes.

prime minister?

Not a rumba?

This means...

Smiley's expression was one of utter astonishment.

"Wait, you mean," Srace said, his mouth agape, glancing at the surrounding patrols, and nervously asking, "this is the Prime Minister's order?"

The officer of order seemed somewhat surprised by the Marquis's reaction. He first looked at his colleagues and subordinates, then nodded to Srace.

The Marquis in the carriage frowned, his face full of suspicion: "You mean, the Earl of Lisbon, the Prime Minister of Lisbon?"

“Yes, all the patrols in the city are now under the direct command of His Majesty the Prime Minister,” the order officer replied sternly. “Is there a problem?”

Srace stared at him blankly: "The Prime Minister? Where is he? In the palace?"

The order officer shook his head.

“No, he’s right here,” the officer said, pointing to a house guarded by soldiers on the street to his side. “He’s working in our temporary outpost behind us. I’ve already sent someone to fetch him. If you have any questions, you can ask him or ask him directly.”

Srace raised his head with a complicated expression.

"The city gate, the first city gate," the marquis said hesitantly, looking at the first city gate in the distance and the indistinct figures on it. "It's past the appointed time—why isn't it open yet?"

"Could it be... that something happened at Valhalla?"

The order officer's expression changed.

“Of course not,” the order officer shook his head quickly, his expression solemn and seemingly leaving no room for doubt: “As you know, disaster just struck last night. We will be more cautious in these extraordinary times, but please rest assured, everything is under control.”

Smiley squinted.

He took a deep breath and looked at the house where the prime minister was.

The Marquis asked astutely, "Then why doesn't the Prime Minister go to the palace to oversee things? Why does he have to temporarily stay in a house?"

"The patrol teams on the city gate are a bit too far apart from the cordon you've set up, aren't they?"

"Could it be... that you dare not approach the city gate?"

The order officer frowned almost imperceptibly.

“You misunderstand. We deliberately built the defenses a little further away from the city gates for safety reasons,” he replied very seriously, as if to cut off any unnecessary associations from the foreign nobleman. “We want to keep all possible threats out of Valhalla before we can ensure safety. Of course, we can’t let our guard down even with the city gates.”

Srace raised an eyebrow.

As they spoke, the messenger returned to the officer of order and whispered a few words in his ear.

“Please bring your carriage with us,” the officer turned and nodded respectfully to the Marquis. “The Prime Minister wishes to see you.”

Srace's expression shifted.

“Oh,” he nodded gently, concealing his inner turmoil with a smile, “Okay, we’re coming right away.”

Shrew first gestured to the driver, then calmly and smoothly closed the car window.

The carriage started moving again, slowly advancing alongside the patrol.

He turned around and looked at the people in the carriage.

The moment Shrews turned around, his expression became tense and serious.

Everyone in the carriage stared back at him, their faces pale.

“These people, these soldiers,” Srace said, though he tried to control his emotions, Thales could still detect a hint of unexpected panic in his voice: “They are not from Rumba, not from Black Sand Territory!”

Srace's speech grew increasingly rapid, and he no longer cared about the hilt of the sword Nicolai was pressing against his back. He said angrily, "They are the real Dragonsreach City patrol, the army! Directly under the Order Department and the garrison commander, not fakes!"

“The real deal!”

Thales' heart skipped a beat as he looked at the serious-looking patrols on both sides.

Authentic?

In other words, these people are all loyal to Dragon Sky City and Walton's forces?
"What happened?" Putilé asked calmly. "The Prime Minister of Lisbon appeared and brought the situation under control?"

“Not yet,” Srace shook his head, clearly also trying to think about the current situation: “I asked: the gate is still in Lumba’s hands—clearly, they are in a standoff or even negotiating.”

The two carriages, along with the northerners and the stars, were moving forward, with the city gate to their right and the house where Lisbon was to their left.

Putila clasped his hands together and squinted his eyes: "It seems that this prime minister is more formidable than we imagined—judging from his posture, he has already sensed something amiss in the city gates and even in Valhalla, and has led his troops here."

Thales sighed softly, looking at Nicolai with a determined gaze: "Now is a good opportunity. You can take advantage of this and take Walton... take Miss Walton and leave to find your Prime Minister of Lisbon—whether you seek help or simply leave, you can do it."

Before his eyes appeared the image of that terrified little girl on another carriage.

We must part ways here.

Little rascal.

Nikolai's expression shifted.

“It’s convenient for the Northerners, of course, but the problem is, what about us?” Srace gritted his teeth and frowned. “When we see Risban, what are we supposed to say? ‘We’re going to save your country, please let us go’?”

Thales took a deep breath and thought hard.

The original plan was to rely on Shrews to deceive the Black Sand Territory soldiers in the city gate, and then Shrews would find a way to send them to Valhalla.

But now, right in front of the city gate...

The Earl of Lisbon.

prime minister?

How to do?
How should I deal with him?
Or should I simply avoid facing him?

Thinking of this, Thales raised his head thoughtfully: "If we suddenly rush towards the city gate now and have Shrews lead us in, will we succeed?"

"Will Lisban and his patrols intercept or even attack us?"

The carriage passed by another patrol of soldiers: they seemed more nervous than the other soldiers, surrounding a nobleman and pointing at the city gate.

Putila frowned: "But in that case..."

He did not continue.

Nikolai's expression shifted, and he looked at Thales.

“You know, you can actually come with me to see the Prime Minister. We can explain everything, combine our strength, and act together,” Nikolai said calmly. “With his cooperation, things will be much easier for us.”

The Meteorite glanced at Srace with a cold look in his eyes: "Anyway, we have a 'enthusiastic' witness from Commas to testify about the assassination of King Nunn."

The Marquis of Cornmus's expression changed drastically!
Thales' heart skipped a beat.

The prince nodded and asked Nicolai solemnly, "If we go to Risban... is he trustworthy?"

Nicole paused for a moment.

“Count Lisbon, he is the kingdom’s prime minister and His Majesty’s right-hand man for many years,” the Meteorite said softly, bowing his head, “and is also a direct vassal of Dragonsky City…”

Thales frowned, sensing that something was off about Nicolai.

(End of this chapter)