Kingdom Bloodline

Chapter 242 The Prime Minister is on the left, and Rumba is on the right!
Just now.

"Of course not!"

A loud voice sounded.

Thales turned around in surprise and, along with the others in the carriage, turned toward Smiley.

The marquis shook his head solemnly, looked at Thales, and decisively said, "We can't go to Risban!"

Srace coughed to cover his lapse in composure, then naturally transformed his anxiety into deep concern: "Well, I mean, I don't recommend you do that..."

The Marquis closed his eyes and sighed deeply, "Don't forget, Prince Thales, whether you are the murderer or not, you are a troublesome enemy prince to the Prime Minister."

Slays shook his head solemnly, his tone more righteous and stern than ever before: "And Risban is just an earl under the Grand Duke of Dragonstreet. What can he do? He can neither let you fly freely nor issue a judgment on you—of course, he can only detain you and wait for the decisions of the Grand Dukes and Lords."

"Believe me, this will only make things worse."

Nicolai snorted and interrupted him: "When did you become so enthusiastic?"

Srace smiled kindly.

“This is fulfilling the contract I made with the prince,” the marquis nodded sincerely, “for the sake of…”

Putilé frowned and finished his sentence for him: "To avoid the Prime Minister of Lisbon, and to save your own life."

Shrews shrugged, grinning. "It was just a side effect."

Thales sighed and turned to Nicolai: "You still haven't said whether Risban is trustworthy or not."

Nicolai frowned slightly.

One second later.

“You know, Kaslan was once His Majesty’s right-hand man,” To Thales’ surprise, this strong and ruthless warrior, the commander of the White Blade Guard, lowered his head with a somber expression and shook his head, saying, “So, I can’t say for sure.”

Thales was slightly taken aback.

Just then, the car door was suddenly opened.

Raphael Lindbergh from the Kingdom's Secret Service boarded the moving carriage with a calm expression. The carriage, which already carried four people, became even more crowded.

“You all know the situation, right? We need to make a decision as soon as possible,” the young man from the secret service looked at Nicolai, smiled slightly, his tone still relaxed, but his words were chilling: “Your dear Prime Minister is coming toward us.”

Everyone in the car stirred slightly.

A question arose in Thales' mind: The Prime Minister came in person?

why?
“But that’s not the worst part…” Raphael said calmly.

"The worst thing is..."

He opened another car window a crack and pointed in a certain direction outside.

Thales leaned closer to the car window.

In the distance, an elderly nobleman of medium build with gray hair walked toward their carriage, surrounded by soldiers.

But Thales's gaze immediately froze.

Then, an elderly woman dressed in a red robe walked calmly beside Lisban.

They chatted occasionally, pointing at the two Commas carriages.

Upon seeing the familiar yet unfamiliar red robe, Thales' heart began to race.

Everyone in the carriage who witnessed this scene froze.

“She’s everywhere,” Putila sighed deeply. “The situation is not good.”

Lisbon was getting closer and closer to them.

Raphael closed the car window expressionlessly.

The atmosphere inside the car became very heavy.

“We need to make a decision as soon as possible,” Raphael urged, pulling his head back from the car window and squinting. “We’re less than two hundred meters away.”

Thales leaned back against the carriage, his brow furrowed, struggling to control his breathing.

The appearance of Risban was somewhat unexpected, and the fact that the other person appeared with him... could only be described as catching everyone off guard.

He has absolutely no intelligence or information!
There wasn't even... not a single bit of preparation!

"Any suggestions?" the second prince asked through gritted teeth. "What's the situation now?"

No one answered: Nicolai gripped his weapon tightly, looking incredulous; Slay's eyes darted around thoughtfully; and Putila rubbed his unlit pipe, his lips moving slightly.

“The Prime Minister of Lisbon and the Red Witch are on the left, and the Lombards and the Grand Dukes are on the right,” Raphael stared expressionlessly at Thales. “We have to choose—that’s the situation.”

“A choice?” Thales swallowed hard and looked at Raphael. “In what capacity did the Scarlet Witch appear beside the Prime Minister? The leader of the Dark Chamber and the chief intelligence officer? Rumba’s lobbyist and envoy?”

Raphael smiled slightly: "I don't know."

Thales frowned and turned to Srace: "Has Prime Minister Risban been bribed by the Dark Chamber? Has he betrayed King Nunn? Or has the Dark Chamber temporarily misled him?"

Srace gave an awkward smile: "I don't know."

Thales exhaled and looked at Nicolai: "What is the relationship between the Dark Room and the Prime Minister? And what is the relationship between the Prime Minister of Lisbon and Lombard, and the Grand Dukes?"

Nikolai looked somber and sighed, "I don't know."

“One hundred and fifty meters to go,” Raphael’s voice sounded indifferent. “We’ll see Lisban soon.”

Thales' heart tightened.

Damn.

“She let us go once at the exit of the secret passage,” Thales clenched his fist. “This time…maybe she’ll let us go again?”

Nikolai's expression tightened, and he closed his eyes helplessly: "I don't know."

hateful!

Thales suppressed his impatience and pursed his lips: "So, are you still going to see Risban? And the Scarlet Witch?"

Nikolai didn't speak, but his expression became even more terrifying.

"And you?" the Meteorite asked coldly.

Thales, trembling slightly with anxiety and tension, couldn't help but sigh.

calm.

I need to calm down.

“Less than a hundred meters away, Risban and the others seem to have picked up speed,” Raphael coldly announced another number: “Don’t forget, it will take us time to notify the people outside.”

The atmosphere became increasingly tense.

Thales gritted his teeth.

"So, what is your suggestion, Putila?" the prince asked in a low voice, controlling his volume.

Putila's eyes flickered as he glanced in the direction of the Scarlet Witch—even though he couldn't see outside.

"Your Highness, it is your decision."

“But my advice is,” the deputy envoy said solemnly, “whatever you do, it’s best to have more certainty and less uncertainty.”

Thales was slightly taken aback.

Convinced.

unknown.

For a moment, his breathing seemed to stop.

Yes. He understands better than anyone else where the key to this game lies.

Is not it.

He stared motionless at the top of the carriage.

A second later, Thales closed his eyes and exhaled deeply.

"I've made up my mind," the second prince said calmly, opening his eyes.

The Prime Minister is on the left, and Rumba is on the right.

More certainty, less uncertainty.

"As for you, Lord Nicolai."

Thales looked calmly at Nicolai: "Are you more afraid of death or failure?"

Nikolai frowned.

----

Outside the carriage, in the distance, the Prime Minister of the Kingdom of Exter, Earl Risban, was talking to Lady Cassandra.

“I understand your concerns, but this is absolutely unacceptable!” The Prime Minister frowned, firmly refusing the smiling woman in red: “The Grand Dukes are using their own troops to reinforce the city gates? There has never been such a precedent…”

But he was quickly interrupted.

"Your Majesty Prime Minister!"

In the distance, Viscount Lesdon roared at him with all his might, pointing in one direction: "The carriage!"

The Prime Minister of Lisbon quickly realized what had happened.

Those are the two carriages.

The two newly arrived Commas carriages, claiming to be visiting Valhalla, along with a dozen or so "attendants," suddenly changed direction.

The rider whipped the horse as if it were out of its mind, and it sped past the patrol team before they could even set up their formation!
They broke through the encirclement.

They sprinted towards the city gate!

The Scarlet Witch frowned slightly as she looked at the two carriages.

The Prime Minister of Lisbon was taken aback at first, then his whole body trembled.

Something is wrong.

The Grand Dukes' subordinates? The city gate? Valhalla?
He turned his head and looked at the Scarlet Witch, his heart filled with suspicion.

Something's not right!
Lisban had a premonition that the key to everything today lay in that carriage!

The next second, Lisban's face tightened. He strode forward and roared at his patrol at the top of his lungs, "Stop them!"

"Stop those two carriages!"

"Everyone, at all costs—stop them!"

----

Above the city gate.

Count Levan, who was intently observing the patrol, was slightly taken aback when he saw the unexpected turn of events below.

In his field of vision, a dozen men were guarding two carriages, which were being pursued by a patrol team and were heading towards their city gate!

What are you doing?
“My lord,” a soldier from the Black Sand Territory reminded him, “those two carriages seem to be the insignia of Lord Cornmas…”

"Should we raise the city gates and go to provide support?"

Count Levan, the top vassal of the Black Sands, frowned.

He certainly recognized the sign of Shanliu.

but……

Count Levan recalled the scene in front of the Dragon Fortress.

If this is a strategy.

It was a means to force the city gates open...

Lewandowski clenched his fist.

The next second, Count Levan raised his hand and roared at the archers in the distance, "Phil! Load the bow!"

"Fire warning!"

Upon hearing this, Phil, the short soldier and captain of the archer guard, had a glint in his eyes.

"Come here!"

Suddenly, he pulled a bundle of arrows from the quiver behind him, stuck it into the grass on his right, then grabbed one of them and nocked it onto a large bow.

Phil aimed his arrow at that small dot in his field of vision.

In an instant, Phil's eyes flickered, and the bowstring flew from his hand!

"Whoosh!"

The whistling sound of arrows piercing the air.

"Boom!"

The arrow was firmly embedded in the ground.

Right in front of the hooves of the first carriage.

The horse seemed startled and was about to turn around amidst a series of alarming neighs.

But the driver was clearly highly skilled, and managed to steer the carriage back to its original direction using only the whip.

The carriage continued rushing towards the city gate without even slowing down!

Phil frowned: They didn't stop.

Since that's the case—he picked up the second arrow.

This time, after Phil finished drawing his bow, he coldly gave orders to his men:

"Firing practice complete! Everyone, nock your bows!"

Behind him, more than a hundred archers from the Black Sand Territory of the North stood in position.

They nocked their arrows, lowered their waists and expanded their chests, and steadily stretched out their powerful arms.

The sounds of bowstrings and bow arms groaning filled the air.

Beneath the city gate, the outlines of the two carriages became increasingly clear.

Phil's face turned cold.

"Prepare for volley fire!"

Everyone tensed their muscles, their faces serious, bowstrings pressed against their cheeks, adjusting their angles to the target—the carriages and people rushing at high speed below the city gate.

The carriage was getting closer.

Finally, Phil, his face contorted with rage, unleashed his final roar:

"put!"

The next second, amidst a neat and eerie whistling sound, countless arrows rained down on the city gate, covering the sky and pouring out.

(End of this chapter)