Kingdom Bloodline

Chapter 274 The Quiet Prince

The sun is shining brightly.

At the south gate of Dragon Sky City, a group of knights arrived at their destination.

When the gaunt man stepped into this famous city standing in the north again, looking at the bustling crowd at the city gate, he felt nothing but endless emotion.

Even after that disaster, Longxiao City still appears majestic, grand, rugged, and awe-inspiring; even the arguments among passersby are filled with resounding force.

Those days...

But he forced himself to suppress the surging thoughts in his heart and turned his gaze away from the towering Nekaru statue.

He still has things to do.

The man lowered his head and urged the horse on, pulling on the reins.

The gaunt man said calmly to the dozen or so knights behind him, "Get ready, we have a long hill to climb."

The knights seemed used to his nonchalant tone, and didn't say a word more, just silently followed.

This was an unassuming group; there were no identifying marks such as flags, decorations, badges, etc., only luggage and miscellaneous items on the horses, and the hurried look on everyone's faces.

The people inside were clearly visiting Longxiao City for the first time, looking around in surprise.

"This is Dragon Sky City?" a young attendant asked in confusion. "Wasn't it said to have been almost destroyed by a disaster? How come it's so intact?"

"It was a rumor, not a disaster, that destroyed Dragon City," the thin man replied easily. "Go wash your brain, Mark."

A few minutes later, a northern nobleman with a military bearing came up with several cavalrymen to greet them. After a brief meeting, he led them directly away from the queue to enter the city and into the city.

They walked across the open space in front of the city gate and began to go uphill.

"It's truly an honor to have the Commander-in-Chief personally come to greet us," the thin man greeted casually. "Viscount Leston."

"Unfortunately, Her Majesty the Grand Duchess is in the Hall of Heroes—today is her day of audience, and the Regent of Risban is also there." This northern nobleman named Reston appeared very capable and decisive, and the patrol began to operate in an orderly manner under his few gestures.

He nodded slightly to the thin man on horseback:
"Lord Putila Niman, who has come all the way from the Kingdom of Stars."

Lord Putila of the Stars nodded in response.

Viscount Leston—this trusted old subordinate of the Earl of Lisbon, who remained as the garrison commander of Dragonsky City after the Grand Duchess ascended the throne—looked at the group of weary Star People and nodded slightly: "But I think you must want to see that prince first."

The Starry Sky entourage exchanged glances, their eyes filled with anticipation and curiosity.

That prince.

That legendary second prince.

“That’s right,” Putila’s thin face broke into a smile on the bustling streets of the Northland. “Please take us directly to the Court of Blood.”

Lesdon raised his eyebrows slightly.

Bloodstained Courtyard...

“Of course, in the Blood Court, the most remote and dilapidated corner of Valhalla, lives a special guest,” Reston sighed softly. “Please follow me.”

The viscount frowned and waved his hand. A messenger immediately understood and set off. A dozen seconds later, the patrol team in front of them changed direction and headed towards Valhalla to clear the way.

“You’re a smart man, I admire that—unlike your former receptionist.” Putila nodded approvingly and took out his pipe.

Viscount Lesdon chuckled and rode alongside Puttier.

"Former receptionist?"

Lesdon smiled and said, “I’ve heard about how he secretly obstructed the mission’s contact with the prince—and then he was found to be in close ties with a count in the Black Sands.”

“That’s why I took over this year,” a pale-faced Leston coughed, “after he was hung up—cough, replaced.”

Putila took a puff of his cigarette, watching the smoke rings change from horseback, and said with emotion, "Thank you for understanding our anxiety."

“It’s my pleasure to serve,” Leston nodded thoughtfully. “This is Dragonfall City, not Black Sand City.”

Upon hearing this place name, Putila narrowed his eyes and said, "Will King Chaman still send envoys to 'offer condolences'?"

When the topic turned to the joint election of the king, Viscount Lesdon's face showed disgust and disdain: "Three times a year, never late."

“If possible, he would probably even try to bribe the ravens flying over Dragonsreach to monitor our every move,” Leston said, glancing at Valhalla on the side of the mountains. “Especially the whereabouts of those two.”

Putila exhaled a smoke ring: "But I've heard that your king has recently run into big trouble?"

“Indeed,” Leston snorted, seemingly pleased. “Chaman Rumba has had no shortage of trouble since his coronation.”

“This is especially true recently.”

Upon hearing that name, the Starry Sky's attendants tensed up and immediately pricked up their ears, paying close attention to the new king who had not been ruling Exter for long.

“Rumba went mad a few months ago. He wanted to overstep his bounds and grant new noble titles, which angered the old vassals of the Black Sand Territory. From the vassals’ collective protest based on the rules of nobility to the king’s order to revise the territorial laws, King Chaman and his own direct vassals engaged in a battle of wits and courage. It was quite a show, haha.”

Viscount Lesdon curled the corners of his mouth.

"But his troubles don't end there—half a month ago, led by four grand dukes from the north and west, a boycott of the king's persecution of the nobles within his territory was launched. Under the guise of a shared oath of governance, they called for support for the old nobles of the Black Sand Territory who had been stripped of their titles through tax resistance—and called on others to join them in opposing the king's tyranny. I heard that the movement was quite large."

of course.

Why not save money with a clear conscience and see the king in a state of panic?
Putila hummed to herself.

“I suspect Dragon City will soon receive an invitation to sign their joint letter of condemnation,” Leston sighed softly. “You know, the reputation of ‘kin killer’ is bad enough as it is.”

“‘Parricide’ Chaman,” Putila whistled, “that’s a really mean way to call your king.”

“I heard that it was ‘Long-Haired’ Ronnie from Qiyuan City who first called him that,” the garrison commander laughed heartily. “It’s arguably the worst nickname for a king in Exter history—you know, even Jacob I, who married his aunt as queen, was only called ‘The Destroyer’.”

Putila chuckled lightly, neither confirming nor denying.

Bad reputation...

That doesn't mean the methods were bad.

"I've heard that things aren't stable in Xingchen Kingdom either?"

"It seems the plague that was finally quelled in the three southwestern kingdoms is showing signs of resurgence," Viscount Leston smoothly transitioned the topic, "and King Kessel has already dispatched three waves of standing troops to Blade's Edge?"

Putila narrowed her eyes slightly: "The old wounds are too deep, and they are not so easy to heal."

"Just like you."

Leiston and Putila exchanged a glance, and the two from Dragon and Star nodded, each with their own thoughts.

The group walked through the bustling Dragonwing Square, past the chaotic bow area, past the axe and spear areas where the upper class stayed, and straight up to the upper city area of ​​Dragonsky City.

Finally, the first gate separating the Axe District from Valhalla appeared before the group of people.

Putila looked at the towering city gate and sighed again.

Viscount Leston, with a serious expression, negotiated with the patrol guarding the city gate for several minutes before the Star People were allowed to enter the gate.

Immediately, many patrol soldiers approached with unfriendly expressions and began searching them, from their bodies to their luggage, which made many Star People resentful.

"Please be patient, this is a necessary procedure—oh, that box contains the gift for the Grand Duchess, please handle it with care."

Putila habitually held out his hands to await the body search, while comforting the disgruntled Star People, telling them to bear with the murderous aura and brutality of the Northerners. Then, he said to Reston, who was waiting on the side, "It seems that your security measures have improved quite a bit."

Lesdon's expression tightened.

“We’ve added three more passwords and built many more sentry posts ahead. Even emergency orders issued by the Grand Duchess herself have corresponding safety measures. We’ve even started trying to recruit the rare superhumans in the Northern army—supposedly on the advice of that prince,” Reston’s tone became very stiff, as if he was suppressing something. “The city gate will always be a strong barrier to keep danger at bay.”

"The story of being tricked into opening the city gate by a high-ranking officer of great prestige and a traitor among the soldiers will not be repeated."

Putila responded with a sigh.

Finally, after a thorough search, Xingchen's group passed through the city gate and arrived at the open space in front of the Palace of Heroes.

Putila looked at the eight large fireplaces in front of the palace gate with mixed feelings, recalling the scene of that small figure walking alone into the palace gate, and couldn't help but sigh deeply.

Squads of palace guards looked at them with hostile expressions as they patrolled.

They dismounted and allowed the guards to lead their mounts away.

"The Court of Blood is this way, please follow me." Viscount Leston led them away from the grand gates of Valhalla and into a secluded corridor.

The path beneath their feet grew narrower and narrower, even overgrown with weeds, but the number of guards along the way gradually increased.

"How is he doing?" Putila asked, looking at the passing guards with mixed feelings.

The Star People's attention was drawn to this question.

he?
Lesdon frowned: he knew who the other person wanted to ask.

How are you doing?

this problem……

"Everyone has a different opinion of him," the garrison commander carefully chose his words, "but if you ask me..."

"The prince was very quiet."

The centaurs of the stars nodded to each other: this matched their assessment of the prince's maturity beyond his years.

Only Putila was surprised: "What do you mean?"

That guy...

Putila recalled the image of that eloquent little adult who would occasionally leave people speechless.

Quiet?

He found it incredible.

"Most of the time, he would sit quietly reading by himself, sometimes talking to himself or even reciting softly, completely absorbed in his books, and each time he would find a different spot, from the corner of the courtyard to the edge of the sky, much to the dismay of his guards..."

“Every month he would leave the palace to play chess in the Spear District. He liked to stay in his private box and play chess with himself for hours on end, until his attendants reminded him that the Grand Duke’s personal guard needed to eat…”

"He doesn't care much about the conflicts in Dragon Sky City. He refuses all invitations to court banquets and hunts—even though the nobles are watching him closely—but he is quite familiar with the palace servants. I heard that he likes to smile and even greets the ravens when he sees them."

“Many teachers have taught him and the Grand Duchess—half of them couldn’t even last two months, saying they ‘couldn’t accept the prince’s style,’ which is a real headache for the Earl of Lisbon…”

“Ah,” Putila shook his head, both amused and exasperated, “I have come here precisely to resolve this issue.”

Viscount Leston's expression was strange:
“But he has a very good relationship with the Grand Duchess. The two of them often spend from morning to afternoon in the library, which has made him quite a few enemies among the nobles of Dragonstreet,” Reston said in a low voice. “The Earl of Risban is very unhappy about this.”

Not only that.

This also brought much dissatisfaction and protest to the Grand Duchess.

"I said quietly."

Putila understood and nodded slightly.

After passing through countless doorways and heavy guards, they finally arrived at a dilapidated and old three-story building with almost no entrance hall. There, many palace guards still stood, scanning them with wary and fierce eyes.

“It’s just like being in prison…you know, there are guards watching you everywhere…” one of the Star Guardians whispered to his companion.

A man who was clearly the leader of the palace guards stepped out. He was tall, had sharp eyes, and a long sword at his waist.

Viscount Lesdon greeted the captain of the guard.

“Lord Justin,” the Viscount nodded politely, extending his hand to the Star People behind him, and introduced, “this is…”

Lord Justin, the former deputy commander of the White Blade Guard who had defended the palace to the death during the Black Sand Territory's offensive, nodded calmly, his gaze sweeping over the guest:
“Putila Niemann, I recognize him.”

Putila smiled and said, "It's a pleasure to meet you. I think..."

But Lord Justin clearly didn't like to talk much. He remained expressionless and interrupted Putilai directly: "I know why you've come."

“He’s in the backyard, come with me.”

Putila smiled slightly, thanking him for his understanding.

“I will wait for you here,” Lesdon said, standing with his hands behind his back, nodding with pursed lips. “The Grand Duchess’s regency will continue for a while.”

Filled with anticipation, the Starry Sky's entourage exchanged glances and followed Putilai through the first floor of the small building to the back courtyard. Even under the sun's rays, this courtyard, shrouded in the canopy of trees, appeared gloomy and dilapidated, as if it had been uninhabited for a long time: the floor tiles were uneven, covered with tree roots protruding from the rocks, and the pale tree trunks were almost one with the cracked courtyard wall. The desolate walls and shadowy grounds created an ominous atmosphere that instantly filled one with melancholy.

A dozen or so soldiers, clearly from the Star People, stood in the dilapidated courtyard, guarding the entrance and exit.

A young man in his early twenties from Xingchen spotted them from afar, his eyes lit up, and he hurried over to greet them.

“Oh, this is quite a surprise,” the young man said, tall and plain-looking, but with sharp eyes. “His Highness said… I thought you would arrive in a week.”

As the young man approached Putila, the Stars' retinue couldn't help but notice that he had a sheathless longsword at his waist, with a single-edged blade.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Putila said, exhaling a smoke ring without any hesitation and raising an eyebrow. “Attendant Wyah Cassel.”

Upon hearing this surname, the guests from Xingchen all cast strange glances at Huaiya.

So that was the "cunning fox"...

But the prince's attendant didn't seem to like the look he was getting; he turned away, revealing the view behind him.

The guests were immediately drawn to the strange man leaning against the wall with his arms crossed: he had short, light-colored hair, and a silver mask covered the area from his throat to his nose, revealing only the upper half of his tattooed face. He looked at the visitors with a cold and wary gaze, as if they were intruders.

It's quite unsettling.

He's probably not very friendly—that's what many people think.

"boom!"

There was a muffled sound.

The visitor from the stars immediately turned his gaze to the source of the sound—two people practicing swordsmanship in the arena.

What caught the eye was the seven or eight-year-old boy.

He held a sword in one hand and a shield in the other, his body covered in sweat, yet his face was resolute as he gritted his teeth.

He withstood the attacks of the guard in front of him time and time again.

"Raise your arms high, pay attention to the rise and fall of my shoulders, anticipate the next attack, and defend in time..." The guard who was sparring with him was not tall to begin with, and he deliberately lowered his posture to take care of the boy's movements and height. The wooden sword would occasionally tap his joints, forcing the boy to retreat.

"boom!"

With another muffled thud, the boy fell to the ground in a sorry state.

He bit his lower lip, wiped the sweat from his brow, rubbed his sore knee, and looked at the guard with dissatisfaction: "Does it have to be like this?"

"Stand up!" The guard shook his head, his tone stern and uncompromising: "Raise your sword!"

Wyman frowned, looking at the seven or eight-year-old boy, seemingly reluctant, but ultimately hesitated to speak.

Putile, standing next to him, squinted, his eyes fixed on the training session on the field.

Everyone in the Starry Sky craned their necks to look at the little boy on the ground, who was gritting his teeth and enduring the pain, yet his expression remained firm.

That is……

The only prince among the stars?
That person, held hostage in an enemy country, risked his life to maintain peace between the two nations…

but……

The guests felt a pang of sadness as they looked at the boy who had been struck down by a single sword.

The little prince looked at his hands and legs, sighed heavily, and listlessly got up: "But this is too exaggerated..."

"If you still want to inherit your father's position and take over his responsibilities, isn't this necessary?" The guard's words came sternly from behind his helmet, sounding frightening. The onlookers shook their heads: "A sharp blade may be able to tear flesh, but if it is held in an unsteady hand, you can't even cut the most fragile reed!"

The prince, still a frail boy, could only take a deep breath, suppress his emotions, refocus his attention, and raise his sword and shield.

Many onlookers showed expressions of pity, and many glanced at the newcomer Putila with strange looks.

The sparring session resumed.

“You understand the essentials of this sword technique,” ​​the instructor-like guard, though stern, diligently instructed the boy, guiding his movements: “Your footwork must be steady, but not too tight. Control your center of gravity; this is especially important when transitioning between offense and defense…”

however.

"boom!"

The third time, the strong yet weak boy fell heavily to the ground, and the wooden sword fell to the ground.

There is no way to fight back.

Behind Putila, the Starry Sky's entourage exchanged disappointed glances, then turned their gazes away from the boy, with some shaking their heads and sighing.

Clearly, His Highness lacks any talent in martial arts, to the point of being completely ignorant of it...

This made their high expectations somewhat complicated.

If this is the future of the Star Kingdom...

"Enough already!" Wyatt, who had been watching from the sidelines, could no longer bear it. The prince's attendant crossed his arms and said to the boy's instructor with dissatisfaction, "He's only eight years old!"

Rolf, leaning against the wall, whistled softly and made a gesture that no one else could understand.

The little prince on the ground took a deep breath, clenched his fists, and slammed his fist into the ground, but still looked at his instructor defiantly.

"Eight years old?"

The guard snorted and looked down at the boy.

“When I was his age, the enemies I faced were far less merciful, giving you a second—no, a twelfth—chance to stand up!”

The little prince, who had stood up, turned pale.

"You know without me saying how special your identity is."

The guard's words were merciless, making the boy, who had a special status, feel somewhat embarrassed and ashamed.

But the boy remained unconvinced: "But I'm smarter than all of them..."

"This isn't a matter of intelligence!"

The guard's voice grew increasingly stern:
“Your opponents are all much older, more capable, and more experienced than you! Without a strong will and a robust body, how will you ever reach that highest position, how will you ever take control of an entire…”

Just now.

"Your Highness!"

A loud shout echoed throughout the entire venue, even attracting the attention of the palace guards in the distance.

The scene fell into silence.

Putila stepped forward, patted Wya on the shoulder, and gestured for him to step back.

The visitors from the stars all looked at their leader, hoping he could bring about some changes to the seemingly frail prince.

After all, that's the future of the Star Kingdom...

The seven- or eight-year-old boy then noticed Putila's arrival and scratched his head sheepishly.

The onlookers all had strange expressions when they saw this.

The lean lord stared sharply at the scene.

A second later, he sighed softly.

“Your Highness, please stop fooling around,” Putila said helplessly, her serious expression replaced by a meaningful look. “Grow up a bit.”

"You should grow up now."

The boy blinked, glancing around nervously, seemingly a little scared.

A few seconds later.

The guard in front of the "prince" moved slightly and dropped the wooden sword in his hand.

He straightened up and turned his head.

The guard tugged at his shoulder, and amidst the cracking of his joints, removed his arm guards and gloves: "Ah, you really are the same as ever, lacking any sense of humor."

A muffled voice came from behind the helmet, as unpleasant as a duck's quack.

Those around them, whether Rolf or Wyatt, looked helplessly at the "guard".

Putila rubbed his forehead, feeling as if his head was about to explode.

The newly arrived attendants of Xingchen looked at each other in surprise, unable to react for a moment.

The stern "guard" took off his helmet, revealing a handsome face that looked about thirteen or fourteen years old.

The boy under the helmet shook the sweat from his face, stepped forward, tossed the helmet to Rolf, and gave a hearty laugh to Putila, who was half a head taller than him.

Under everyone's gaze, the real second prince of the Star Kingdom, the young Thales Star, like an ordinary northern man, readily punched Putilai on the shoulder.

"It's been a long time, Putila."

Putila, who was knocked back a step, shook her head helplessly: "And they even said you were very 'quiet'."

He really is a "quiet prince".

Thales laughed heartily, patted Putila on the shoulder, and gave the people behind him a refreshing and relaxed smile that made them feel very approachable.

"Friends from my hometown," the prince said happily, thumping his chest, "Welcome to the North!"

Amidst the stunned expressions of his entourage, Putila gritted his teeth in exasperation and gestured with his lip: "What's the deal with that boy?"

Thales then patted his head and turned around.

“Joseph, I’ve met an old friend,” the prince said gently to the boy, his demeanor completely different from his stern teacher earlier. “Let’s call it a day. You can go back now. Your father is probably getting impatient.”

"Don't be nervous. My teacher once told me: to learn this sword technique, you must first learn to take a beating."

The little boy breathed a sigh of relief, rolling his eyes as he removed his protective gear: "I thought this was going to be the end of the day."

Thales laughed heartily.

The young prince turned his head and raised an eyebrow at Putire, whose face was almost blackened with soot: "This is Joseph, the head chef's son. His dream is to take over his father's position and become the head chef of Valhalla, in charge of the entire kitchen... His status allowed him to participate in the chef's apprentice selection at the age of eight, but as you know, the competition in Valhalla's kitchen is fierce, and his weakest skill is cutting meat, so he needs special training in knife skills..."

"Alright, alright..." Putila sighed helplessly, flicking the embers out of his pipe: "I'm glad to see that you've become more cheerful in the past six years."

"Your Highness Thales."

Instead of the serious-faced brat he used to be.

Thales' expression froze from the previous second.

He stood up and his smile faded.

As the prince's expression changed, the atmosphere among the guards and attendants also turned cold.

“No,” he said calmly, “it’s not six years.”

Putila looked at him with a puzzled expression.

“I remember it very clearly,” the prince said, looking up with a touch of emotion, “today is May 14, 679.”

Thales looked up at the sun in the sky, his expression complex, and let out a long sigh:

"It is six years and one hundred and sixty-seven days."

Waaah... Waaah...

Thales... Waaah... You've finally grown up...

I thought... I thought... Waaah...

Everyone hurry up! Donate, vote, leave a comment (Wu Jian sobs uncontrollably), otherwise what if he wakes up in the next chapter and finds himself still seven years old? (Wu Jian is heartbroken)

(If I really wrote the part where the protagonist wakes up from a dream at the age of seven, I don't think anyone would abandon the book, right? —by Wujian with a serious expression)
The PS chapter took three days to write. The number of words I deleted during the process was more than the number of words I kept.

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(End of this chapter)