Kingdom Bloodline

Chapter 275 Playing Chess (Part 1)

"No need to rush."

"The Grand Duchess's hearing will continue until sunset. You can go there in the afternoon. I will send someone to tell Viscount Lesdon."

In the bedroom on the second floor, Thales glanced at the sunlight outside the window, wrung out a wet towel from the basin, and wiped his head and face while talking to Putilay sitting behind him.

Looking at the Second Prince's back, which was much broader and taller than it had been six years ago, Putila, who had been silent, touched the wrinkles on his face and watched the flame in his pipe slowly die out.

It's hard to believe that this is the same skinny boy who couldn't even ride a horse six years ago.

The boy who gritted his teeth and stormed into Valhalla.

Thales pressed the towel to his face and let out a long breath: "Believe me, she's never in a good mood after a regency, and neither is the Lisbon Regency: if I were you, I wouldn't go looking for trouble so soon."

Putila refilled her tobacco pouch and chuckled, "I suppose Grand Duchess Walton is still not on the list of many Northlanders' favorites, is she?"

Thales raised an eyebrow: "Approval?"

He shrugged as he recalled what he had seen and heard over the past six years.

"Just persuading the direct vassals of Dragonstreet to pay their respects to the new Grand Duchess at King Nunn's funeral almost exhausted the personal connections and prestige that Lisbon had built up during her more than twenty years as Prime Minister—and that was with the endorsement of five Grand Dukes, including the King."

Thales recalled that bizarre funeral: King Nunn, his eyelids covered with gold coins, lay quietly in the center of the Hall of Heroes, holding a sword, the stitches on his neck completely hidden by his collar. The vassals, filled with shock and unease, slowly approached, glancing incredulously at the new young lord, then looking angrily and bewildered at Risban beside him—as if the latter had betrayed them.

The prince snorted, tossed the towel into the basin, and walked into the private cubicle. As he unbuttoned and untied his inner garment, he sighed, “As the Grand Duchess of Dragon Sky City, one can imagine what her situation has been like for the past six years.”

Outside the cubicle, Putila stood up and nodded thoughtfully.

“In comparison, as a hostage prince in the heart of an enemy country…” The former deputy envoy of the Stars walked to the window and glanced at the guards that could be seen everywhere in the backyard: “At least they value you.”

“If you mean the densely packed palace guards and the Grand Duke’s personal guards from the corridor to the ceiling, from the balcony to the courtyard…” Thales took off his inner shirt, his fingers inadvertently touching the circular burn scar on his chest, which triggered a memory from the past.

He sighed, picked up a new undershirt, and put it on.

"Let me put it this way, after Nunn was assassinated six years ago, that dead-faced Nicolai became more and more neurotic, wishing he could turn Valhalla into a prison where no one was allowed to enter, or a military camp patrolled day and night."

As Thales dressed, he said helplessly, "Wherever I go, they'll probably turn the place upside down three days in advance."

Putila glanced at the guards standing watch in the corridor and nodded slightly: "I'm glad to hear that the Meteorite is so responsible."

“Once you see what he looks like, you won’t think that way anymore. People before you have suffered a lot at his hands,” Thales said, pulling on his smock in the cubicle. He grabbed the elaborate leather belt hanging on the wall, the JC dagger on it making him frown slightly again.

"The Viscount Connie's mission, the one that sent the horse from the country, almost made Nicolai cut the horse into pieces and sew it back to me."

Thales skillfully fastened the belt, buttoned all four buttons, and then sat down to put on his boots.

Putila turned back from the window and exhaled a smoke ring without any hesitation.

The prince's desk was piled high with books, some half-open, some with bookmarks, and many notes.

Three sheathed swords were neatly arranged on a sword rack to the side, and two shields were stacked next to the sword rack.

Putila curled the corners of her mouth.

His gaze shifted to Thales' bed, where the bedding and pillows were spotless and brand new.

It's probably because I change and wash them frequently... Putila thought to herself.

But his gaze shifted to the corner of the wall not far from the bed. An ordinary person might not notice it, but the perceptive Putila noticed that this corner appeared more translucent and bright than the wall next to it.

It fits perfectly in the area of ​​a person lying against the corner of the wall.

Putila squinted.

A few seconds later, he let out a silent sigh.

“Your Highness,” Putila’s mood inexplicably calmed down, and his tone became serious: “How have you been these past few years?”

The sounds from inside the cubicle paused for a fraction of a second.

It was as if the people in the cubicles were pondering the answer.

"Ha," came the prince's exhale, sounding nonchalant, "A regular schedule, magnificent northern scenery, personal security guards, no more worries about life-threatening situations, no more facing cunning and treacherous enemies..."

"The only things to worry about are a young girl and her ladies-in-waiting, plus a deadpan face and a grumpy old regent..."

Inside the cubicle, Thales tied his boot laces, his breathing slowed, and his face became somber: "Why not?"

why not?
Putila did not speak.

"but……"

A few seconds later, Thales, fully dressed, pushed open the door to the cubicle and entered the bedroom.

He looked up at Putila in front of his desk and said sincerely, "It's still a pleasure to see you, Putila."

“In Dragon City, you don’t see your old friends every day.”

Especially those who went through hardships together.

Thales added a thought to himself.

He picked up a half-sword from the sword rack, tested its weight, and then tucked it into his belt.

“I would love to say the same, Your Highness,” Putila smiled, “but you know I’m not used to overly sentimental dialogue.”

Thales scoffed at this.

"So, where have you been for the past six years?" The young prince stood in front of the dressing mirror and casually tugged at his collar. "I thought you would stay with me in Dragon City—as Gilbert's appointed mentor."

Putila bit his pipe and gave a soft hum with a crooked mouth.

"Speaking of instructors, I've heard that you've caused quite a bit of trouble for the teachers in Dragon City?" he said casually, seemingly ignoring Thales' question.

Thales blinked, not pressing him further about his whereabouts over the past six years.

“First of all, I’m not very comfortable with teaching many people, and I’m a very outspoken person,” he shook his hair, feeling that was about right. “Secondly, I don’t think that’s the kind of education a grand duke should receive…”

Thales' voice unconsciously softened a little.

Putila exhaled from his pipe: "What?"

The young prince shook his head, clearing the scenes from those classes from his mind: "It's nothing, just think of it as me disliking them."

Putila looked at him and chuckled softly.

"Your education is a major headache back home," the lean lord said calmly. "Therefore, I came here specifically to find a tutor for you." "Find a tutor?" Thales frowned slightly. "I thought you were going to teach me yourself?"

“I’ll only teach you to be a scheming, gloomy prince,” Putila laughed. “At most, I’ll teach you to sing a few erotic bards—Gilbert would probably kill me.”

Thales gave a dry laugh, then his face fell.

“You should know that King Chaman does not allow the Star People to come and teach me.”

Thales sighed softly: "He refused to allow any Star People to interfere in the Star Prince's education."

The prince recalled the scene of receiving a northern noble education together with that girl.
The Exter people taught him Common and even Orcish with a Northland accent, as well as Northland history and traditions, and memorized the importance of the Thirty-Eight Watchtowers and the dangers of Dragonstalker, but they didn't teach him Ancient Empire, Imperial history, the past of the stars, or even Elvish and aristocratic rhetoric—everything Gilbert had taught him in the Hall of Mindis.

Thales shook his head helplessly.

Fortunately, sparring with the burly northern warriors to hone his northern military swordsmanship was quite convenient.

Please don't worry.

“The teacher we invited is from the Dragon Kiss Academy in the Duchy of Anrenzo. He is highly respected and renowned,” Putila said, seemingly anticipating his words, and nonchalantly exhaled another smoke ring. “He will arrive a few days later and will be teaching both you and the Grand Duchess at the same time. The Regent of Lisbon will only be pleasantly surprised by his arrival.”

Thales paused slightly, a hint of doubt in his eyes: "Dragon Kiss Academy? Highly respected?"

Putila extended his pipe and, without a care in the face of the prince's furrowed brow as he nearly crushed a mosquito, carelessly tossed the ash onto the windowsill.

“When he was young, he was both my and Gilbert’s tutor,” Puttier said with emotion. “It took Gilbert and me a lot of effort to persuade him.”

Putila and Gilbert's...teacher?

Thales's curiosity grew as he thought of the former foreign minister he hadn't seen for many years.

"who is it?"

“You will find out,” Putila said calmly, “but please forgive me for keeping some surprises for you until then.”

surprise?

Thales raised an eyebrow in a direction that Thales couldn't see.

"So, Putilai."

The second prince squinted his eyes:

"You came here today to solve my education problem?"

Putila gave a light snort with a playful expression, then changed the subject: "Yes, otherwise, in six years, the heir of the Star Kingdom would almost have become a northerner."

Thales rolled his eyes in exasperation.

But in the next moment, a strange light suddenly appeared in Putila's eyes.

“Your Highness Thales,” Putila tapped his pipe meaningfully, “have you missed home in the past six years?”

Thales was stunned.

Family.

Abandoned house, Sunset Bar, Yara.

When he thought of "home," these were the first words that popped into his mind.

Maybe... there's also Gilbert, Ginny, and Yodl?

Thales crossed his arms and sighed.

"I don't know," he forced a smile. "I didn't stay in the Star Kingdom for long, so my impression of it is very shallow."

Putila looked at him silently, without saying a word.

Thales, who was initially feeling somewhat sad, looked at him with a puzzled expression.

“Very good,” Putila said, his gaze deep as he stared into Putila’s eyes. “It’s time to strengthen it.”

Thales was stunned.

A few seconds later, the prince, realizing what was happening, sighed.

Thales lowered his head and asked softly, "Secret Department?"

Putila gave a soft whistle and shook her head: "What else?"

The prince's expression froze.

After a while, Thales gave a half-smile and snorted, his face falling: "It's them again."

"I really don't know whether to be happy or sad."

Putila raised an eyebrow, said nothing, and simply looked at the prince quietly.

“Okay.” Thales rubbed his face, as if trying to wash away his emotions.

He took a deep breath, whirled around, and grabbed a book from the desk: "Time to get going!"

"Departure?" Putila exclaimed in surprise. "You're coming with me to see the Grand Duchess?"

"of course not."

"I don't want to go looking for trouble right now."

"Didn't I tell you?" The prince turned his head, revealing his white teeth, and closed the book in his hand: "I'm used to it. Once a month, I go out of the palace to play chess."

Putila looked puzzled.

Play chess?

but……

The moment Thales closed the book, the sharp-eyed Putiret vaguely noticed a thin, sky-blue sheet of paper tucked inside.

That seems to be a...

Invitation?

In the next chapter, the protagonist will encounter a beautiful, lively, and short-tempered girl. Readers who are underage are advised to skip this chapter.

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(End of this chapter)