Kingdom Bloodline

Chapter 311 Day of Government Reception

As the first rays of sunlight climbed onto the windowsill and streamed into the room, Thales woke up.

As he had done countless times in the past six years, he took a deep breath, got up from the ground, stretched his aching back, and threw the pillow and blanket back onto the bed.

In the courtyard outside the window, the ancient tree still stood tall and imposing—Thales learned from the servants' idle chatter that this tree might have existed long before the founding of Exter—a few soldiers of Starfall yawned, while the northern people on the outskirts were changing shifts.

The same as before: one-third of the Grand Duke's personal guards and two-thirds of the palace guards.

They guarded him very closely.

After washing up, Thales sighed, lifted his head from the basin, rubbed his face, and looked around at everything again.

His gaze swept over the books on the desk, over the swords and shields on the weapon rack, over everything in the room, and he let out a sigh, shaking his head with relief.

Thales fastened his boots and belt as usual.

His movements were slow and meticulous, as if he were doing something extremely solemn, even taking longer than usual to straighten his collar and tighten his cuffs.

He reorganized some of his important personal belongings:

The JC dagger, still as sharp as ever, remained at his waist.

He always kept in his arms a black cloth that could cover his breathing.

Six years ago, I received that unfortunate Blood Fang bracelet from the Queen of the Night.

King Nuen gave him a lightweight court map that concealed a terrible secret.

There was also a rough-drawn sheet of paper from the Mindis Hall, but of unusual origin and author, on which was a sketch of a young girl.

Thales silently folded the drawing paper into the map, rolled it into a scroll, then wrapped it with a black cloth along with the bracelet and stuffed it into the pocket in his pocket.

Today, today.

There was a knock on the door.

The prince took a deep breath: "Come in."

The door opened, and Putila walked into the room with his pipe in his mouth, smiling as he said, "Good morning."

The prince glanced at him, said nothing, and simply walked to the window, looking at the scenery outside.

"As you probably already know, the last direct Count arrived in Dragonsreach last night," Putila scoffed. "So, according to..."

Thales nodded, his tone showing no sign of nervousness: "I know. Now that the vassals of Dragonsreach have all gathered, the hearing will be held today."

Yes, it happened today.

He looked at the familiar yet unfamiliar scenery in the courtyard, overwhelmed with mixed feelings: "How is the Qiyuan City delegation doing?"

"Silent and silent."

"What about Black Sand Territory?"

"They seemed to want to sit in on the council meeting, but they were stopped at the palace gates."

"In Valhalla?"

"As usual, except that there are more patrols now."

Thales nodded.

Before the storm, there is always calm.

Thales's gaze swept across the entire Blood Courtyard.

The place where he lived in seclusion for more than two years—from the time the young duchess came of age, when he was banished to this forgotten land.

According to the child in the kitchen, Joseph said that this place was once the recuperation place of a certain Grand Duke of Dragonrise City. When the Grand Duke was terminally ill and medicine could not cure him, he decisively gave up his position to his heir and went into this secluded courtyard to wait alone in bed for that day to come, waiting for the bell of the ferryman of the Prison River to ring.

From that Grand Duke, whose identity remains unknown, the Blood Courtyard has become an ominous place next to Valhalla.

Thales silently observed the dilapidated state of the courtyard, yet never before had he felt such a sense of familiarity with this place.

The prince chuckled softly.

"What do you think of her?" Thales suddenly asked, "Dragon City."

Putila, standing behind him, raised her eyebrows slightly, seemingly surprised by the prince's question.

"Dragon Sky City?"

“A city,” the thin old man exhaled a puff of smoke, his tone calm and unperturbed. “No more, no less.”

Not too much, not too little?
“She has stood here for thousands of years,” Thales said, shaking his head as he looked at the city gate faintly visible in the distance. “For the past thousand years, countless people have come and gone, living and dying.”

Kings, dukes, soldiers, nobles, commoners... even dragons.

Or a prince.

“But she still stands here, no matter who lives on her, no matter who rules her, no matter who is buried here,” Thales sighed. “She has witnessed everything for a thousand years.”

Six years ago, the prince of the stars set foot on this land, nearly igniting a war between the two nations.

Six years ago, the calamity of blood swept in under the cover of night, destroying cities and taking lives amidst terrifying roars.

Six years ago, the Sky Queen descended from the sky, burning away the clamor of that night with a deafening dragon roar.

It was still six years ago. The dragon's blood was spilled all over the land. The great, born king died a violent death. The kingslayer stepped on his bones and put on the still-blood-stained crown.

But she, Longxiao City, remains here, continuing to witness countless historical events.

Just like the past thousand years.

The man behind her didn't reply, but simply exhaled a perfect smoke ring.

"two thousand."

Thales snapped out of his daze, his expression shifting slightly: "What?"

Putila scoffed lightly, quite casually: "If you trace it back to the ancient imperial era of Arendeburg, then the history of Dragonsky City is two thousand years old."

Thales turned around and looked at him, puzzled.

“Three thousand years,” the man smoking a pipe said with a mocking smile, “if you also include the ruins of the northern capital city in the Chronicles of Kings.”

“And if we start counting from the ruins of the primitive era, even the animal-hide tents of the orcs,” Putila gestured toward a faded, mottled cloud dragon spear emblem on the wall, “four thousand years shouldn’t be a problem… going back further, I can count tens of thousands of years for you.”

Thales raised his eyebrows.

“But this land of Dragon City is still here,” Putila shook his head, his words tinged with disdain. “And are you going to pray for every ant that has died in the soil beneath your feet for hundreds of thousands or millions of years, and lament the history of Dragon City?”

"Save your breath, because to Longxiao City, you are nothing at all."

The prince was speechless for a moment.

Thales turned his gaze away and let out a helpless sigh.

"Putilay".

The prince shook his head sarcastically: "When it comes to being a spoilsport, no one can beat you."

Thales put aside his feelings and turned to walk towards the door.

Putila chuckled softly, watching the prince's retreating figure, and let out a gentle breath.

"Forty-three years ago, I first came to Dragon Sky City."

Thales paused in his tracks.

Putila's voice continued, carrying a strange, lingering quality: "That was 635, the year before King Kahn died and King Nunn was crowned."

It's been so long already.

Putila stared at the floor beneath his feet, unconsciously stroking the pipe in his hand.

All of the past.

He chuckled and shook his head, saying, "I was fifteen years old then, and as a newly appointed prince's attendant, I was an absolute idiot."

Thales turned around, his brow furrowed.

"Attendant?" the prince asked tentatively. "So you were with..."

"Yes."

“The late King’s eldest son, His Highness Midil,” Putilai said without even looking at him, giving a light snort, “was a little younger than you are now, and he also unfortunately got caught up in trouble.”

Thales' heart skipped a beat.

Midil Shining Star.

That's the story.

That was the story King Nunn told him six years ago, after that duel.

The story of that young star who went on a mission to the Dragon Kingdom and fearlessly faced the King and the Grand Duke.

The thin man stroked his old pipe.

"Bearing His Majesty Eddie's mission, our young delegation stepped into Dragon City... Excitement, agitation, curiosity, nervousness, trepidation, trembling—all the silly things you can imagine."

"Gollov glared at him, as if he thought that this would earn him the respect of the Northmen; the old smoker Albert, who could never put down his pipe, didn't touch it at all those days; Barney, the deputy captain of the Royal Guard, was so suspicious that he probably thought there might be enemies hiding in His Highness's ear holes; Sacelle, the newcomer to the guard, was trying his best to look serious on his first expedition with His Highness, and he was not even as serious as Wyah was now."

Putila stopped smoking his pipe.

His gaze froze in mid-air, fixed on a distant place that existed only in his memories.

"But the eldest son of the king, the young Midil, just smiled."

Thales didn't speak. He thought about the day he first arrived in Dragon City, and then mentally described the day forty-three years ago when another Radiant Star arrived in Dragon City.

"He seemed to bury all his emotions in his smile lines, whether it was sadness or pain, tension or anxiety."

There was silence in the room.

Puttier put the pipe back in his mouth and took a deep drag, as if trying to preserve a memory.

"Decades have passed, and when I returned to Dragon City," Putila's face was blurred by the smoke as he exhaled, but his voice came through indistinctly, filled with emotions that Butels could not understand: "I thought I would feel relieved, or sentimental, or, as someone who experienced it all, smile wryly at this city from back then?"

"Just like you are now, feeling melancholy and sorrowful over this city."

As the smoke dissipated, the thin old man raised his head.

“But not.” He said coldly.

Thales frowned.

Putila stared straight at him, her eyes cold: "Nothing."

Thales unconsciously held his breath.

"Because the only memory that has returned to my eyes is not a single brick, tile, blade of grass, or tree in Longxiao City."

Putila shook his head, lifted his foot, and walked towards the prince.

Thales stared at him blankly, unsure how to respond.

“Many years later, I came to understand,” Putilae said, standing in front of Thales and looking him straight in the eyes. “What I truly remember is not Dragon City.”

"And merely the companions from Dragon City back then, and the smiles of His Highness Midil."

They are the old friends who walked together in ignorance that year.

“What you should remember is not this land,” the old man said softly, “but the people of this land and the stories you shared with them.”

silence.

After a long pause, Thales, his mind filled with complex emotions, finally managed to ask, "And what about them?"

Putila's eyes flickered.

"The delegation from back then," the prince added quietly, "those who went through the story with you?"

But Putila did not answer.

Without hesitation, he strode forward, brushed past Thales, and walked out of the room.

"It's time for you to go."

Thales looked up and stared intently out the window for a long while.

“Yes,” Thales sighed softly, straightening his already neat collar. “It’s time to go.”

The prince turned around and stepped out of the room.

----

“Although this is Her Excellency the Grand Duchess’s order, I still suggest that you keep a low profile at the hearing,” Lord Justin, who was in charge of guarding the corridor from the Blood Courtyard to the Hall of Heroes, said coldly. “It would be unwise for someone of your status to be too high-profile in front of the Earls of Dragonsreach.”

“Of course,” Thales said, his expression unchanged. “Thank you for reminding me, Lord.”

He ignored the Dragonstreet City guards around him and, accompanied by Wyatt and Rolf, walked forward with a heavy heart.

Justin nodded and then returned to his line.

Wyatt pursed his lips, clearly dissatisfied with the attitude of the former deputy commander of the White Blade Guard.

The attendant's face was somber, his eyes grave, clearly sensing the impending storm. Beside him, Rolf's face remained hidden behind a silver mask, his mood unreadable.

"Why didn't you bring Miss Ada?" Wyman asked worriedly. "On such an important day, your safety..."

“You heard what the lord said,” Thales shook his head and sighed. “In the solemn Hall of Heroes, she’ll probably only cause trouble—especially with the Northlands.”

Rolf turned his head, glanced at Wyman with disdain, and made a gesture that Wyman couldn't understand.

“But as you said, Your Highness, the vassals of Dragon Peak City are not Grand Duchesses. Their attitude towards you,” Wyatt suppressed his dissatisfaction with his companion, took two steps forward, and said softly, “You know, this is a dispute among the Northerners. You can completely stay out of it.”

Thales raised an eyebrow.

"Wyman, do you miss the past?"

Wyman was taken aback by this irrelevant answer: "Your Highness?"

Thales shook his head, then chuckled as if he had just realized something, “Sorry…you know, Putile was particularly sentimental today, like an old man giving his last words of advice, all nagging and sentimental—I was affected by him too.”

Wyatt looked at the prince with suspicion, his feet moving without stopping, his worry deepening: "Of course I miss the past, Your Highness, but I am more concerned about the future... your future."

Thales smirked.

Rolf let out a mocking snort, which annoyed Wyman once again.

“Rolf,” the prince shifted his focus, “do you miss the past?”

Thales turned to look at the Ghost of the Wind, recalling a distant past: "You know, those days of bloodshed in the streets with the Blood Bottle Gang."

Rolf's eyes showed confusion.

But a few seconds later, the Ghost of the Wind quickly raised its head and made a gesture.

【No. 】

“No?” Thales sighed. “At least you were free back then.”

Rolf's eyes on his mask twitched slightly.

free?

Blood Bottle Gang...

Catherine the Boss... Nekra...

Rolf clenched his fists, feeling a dull ache in his throat and knees in his daze.

He raised his hands again, gesturing in sign language, and continued his private conversation with the prince.

Wyman, watching from the side, felt quite uncomfortable.

[Body, freedom.]

Rolf's eyes were cold as he patted his chest.
But not here.

Thales chuckled.

"So you'd rather continue with your current life?" The prince shook his head: "It's not an easy path."

Rolf let out a heavy "ha" sound, as if he were scoffing at his employer's words.

The former Ghost of the Wind shrugged and tapped his knee.

A metallic clanging sound came from beneath the clothing.

So I got a replacement leg.

Thales chuckled, causing the guards on both sides to turn around frequently.

“Very good,” the prince said, looking pleased. “You will come with me to the hall today, Midira.”

Rolf nodded.

But Wyatt immediately realized something was wrong:
"Your Highness?"

Thales glanced back at his sergeant: “And you stay outside the hall, Wyatt.”

Wyman's expression changed.

"but……"

Before he could finish speaking, Thales turned around, grabbed Wyman's shoulder, and pulled him towards himself.

"listen."

“I need you outside, I need you to do something for me. It might sound absurd,” Wyatt, who was a head taller than the prince, was pulled closer to Thales as he listened to him whisper, “Actually, I hope I won’t need you…”

“Your Highness,” Wyatt’s face fell, his voice urgent, “if you sense something is wrong, please…”

But Thales interrupted him.

“Remember what I told you a few days ago,” the prince said calmly, but his eyes were incredibly serious: “Wyatt, no matter what happens…”

Wyatt was stunned. Looking at Thales's expression, the scene of their first meeting flashed through his mind.

prince……

you……

“I know, ‘Don’t panic,’” the attendant’s voice was somewhat bitter as he repeated Thales’ words, “and ‘Trust you.’”

Thales nodded and smiled. "So, do you trust me?"

Wyman didn't speak. His face was tense. He pressed his fist to his chest and bowed slightly.

Thales patted him on the shoulder and nodded with a smile.

They continued forward, past the increasing number of palace guards and the Grand Duke's personal guards, until they stood before the familiar Hall of Heroes.

The day of hearing the government.

Thales pondered the word with a heavy heart as he walked into the hall.

When choosing a title for the chapter, I was a little absent-minded, and kept repeating "Hearing the Government Day," "Hearing the Government Day," "Hearing the Government Day," and as a result, I subconsciously made a mistake.

Fortunately, just before the announcement, I realized my mistake and changed "Jin Zheng Ri" back to "Hen Zheng Ri".

Dear readers, this book almost met its demise!

There will be another chapter in the early morning.

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(End of this chapter)