Kingdom Bloodline

Chapter 312 The Hatred of Taking My Sister
Upon entering the Hall of Heroes, Thales immediately spotted the large fireplace that held a special place in his heart, and the dark, menacing spear on the gun rack above it.

Inside the hall, many of the vassals of Longxiao City who were qualified to participate in the day of hearing the government had already arrived.

Thales frowned as he looked at the scene in the Hall of Heroes.

The layout of the hall has changed: apart from the ducal seat in front of the fireplace, many seats have been placed on both sides of the oval stone hall, facing the ducal sideways and towards each other, leaving the central area empty.

Even on such a solemn occasion, the people of the North still displayed their rugged and unrestrained side.

Clearly, some nobles were dissatisfied with their seating arrangements. After sitting down, they deliberately adjusted their positions, taking one or two steps, as if they were deliberately trying to challenge the arranged seating. From a distance, the meeting place, which originally resembled a three-sided pocket, gradually appeared messy and scattered after the arrival of the vassals. Coupled with the noise and commotion of the northern nobles meeting acquaintances or making their first meetings, the entire hall seemed somewhat chaotic.

It reminded the prince of the banquet at Exeter.

But Thales noticed that the six seats closest to the Grand Duke on his left and right remained completely still, even though many of the vassals behind them were moving their seats, not one of them dared to cross or even touch those six seats.

Six—Thales, who had done his homework beforehand, looked at the empty seats and knew exactly what to expect.

As Thales stepped into the hall, the clamor of the Northlanders subsided.

The appearance of Prince Star surprised many people: many nobles from the North turned around to look at this foreign prince who had not appeared for six years, and made all sorts of reactions.

The prince lowered his head, deliberately avoiding eye contact with these people.

Led by Lord Justin, he arrived at an extremely secluded seat, far from the dense crowd of Northern nobles, with Rolf standing behind him against the wall.

“Listen, just keep a low profile,” Lord Justin said coldly. “If anything happens, I’ve already told the people around me, and they know what to do…”

But the lord paused.

With a screech of a chair dragging on the floor, a young man unceremoniously moved his seat next to Thales and sat down heavily.

Thales was also stunned.

“I’ve never liked Northerners’ meetings—they all sound like gorillas arguing,” a familiar voice came from beside me, chattering on and on, vividly describing, “You know, a rutting male gorilla pounds its chest and roars at its rival…”

As Thales stared in disbelief, Lord Justin's face turned grim:

"His Excellency Viscount Ian Ronnie."

"As an envoy from Qiyuan City, your seat doesn't seem to be here?"

Beside Thales, Ian, who was imitating a gorilla pounding its chest, closed his exaggeratedly open "O" mouth.

The viscount withdrew his hands and nodded nonchalantly: "I know, my seat is over there..."

Following his finger, Thales turned to the other side of the hall: Ned Monty, the "Death Raven" whom he had met a few days ago, was sitting in the chair of the Qiyuan City delegation with a swagger, laughing heartily.

Behind him, a group of nobles from the Qiyuan City delegation stared at him with livid faces, their eyes fixed on their theoretical leader, Ian Ronnie.

“I promised to introduce him to a few beautiful widows in Wind City who were ‘bold and unrestrained’ in order to get Monty to agree to help me hold off those old guys,” Ian sighed. “But I didn’t tell him that in Wind City, the aesthetic standards of the Xitao people are actually quite different from ours.”

Thales also sighed; he was speechless at this unruly heir to the Qiyuan City.

As Prince Xingchen and the others from Qiyuan City took their seats, the hall returned to its characteristic northern hustle and bustle.

Until the messenger's booming voice suddenly rang out, resounding throughout the entire area!
“Count Solon Cortsen of Ferrenberg!”

The discussions and noise in the hall immediately subsided.

Thales and Ian turned their heads at the same time.

Following the announcement, a man around fifty years old walked into the hall.

This nobleman had distinct northern features, and he was dressed in full military attire. His eyes shone with a sharp light, causing Thales to frown.

The nobles already present also turned towards the gate, and many nodded or greeted the Earl of Philenburg respectfully.

The man named Curtson strode forward, responding arrogantly to the other vassals' greetings. Under the watchful eyes of the nobles in the hall, he walked to the very front of the stone hall, approached one of the six empty seats closest to the Grand Duke, and sat down without hesitation.

"The ball has begun," Ian whispered sarcastically in Thales' ear.

Thales glared at him.

Starting with Curtson, as the heralds announced their names, several nobles who clearly held extraordinary status entered the hall within a few short minutes, some quickly, some slowly, some early, some late, as if they had arranged it beforehand.

“Stone Linna, Earl of the Wild Woodlands!” Earl Linna seemed to be not much younger than Courterson. He walked slowly toward the six most important seats, dressed formally, with a serious expression and eyes fixed straight ahead, as if he were about to rush to the battlefield at any moment.

“The Wildwoods are near Vigilant City and Watchtower, and are the worst land in Dragonsreach. It’s called a forest, but it’s really just bare, pointed trees on the tundra—even worse than Vigilant City,” Ian whispered to Thales. “Just like its name suggests, the people there are a bit ‘wild’.”

Thales raised an eyebrow.

Registration for messenger duties continues.

"The Earl of Ironshire, Brooking Hearst!" This visitor was the youngest, in his thirties, with a golden beard and a smile that, combined with his angular features, made a strong impression.

“Iron County is the only way from Weilan Territory to Dragonstreet City. I’m sure you passed through there on your way here,” Ian said, looking at the young Earl Hearst with a complicated expression. “Good heavens, I’m so jealous of that guy. I heard he inherited his title and territory when he was ten years old.”

Thales rolled his eyes at him.

"Kahn Kerkekor, Earl of Hunting County and Origami County!"

The middle-aged guest was of medium height, with a calm expression and slow steps. He came alone without any attendants and seemed unmoved by anything. But what was most striking was his left sleeve—it was empty: he was a one-armed count.

“Wow, Earl Kerkekor, a heavyweight,” Ian’s voice came from beside me: “The most capable man under King Nuen—Nuen has declared war countless times in his life, many of them verbal threats, but once Hunting County and Origami County start mobilizing, it means that Dragon Sky City is going to get serious.”

Thales couldn't help but glance at the one-armed count a few more times.

"Holt Nazel, Earl of the Rocky Hill and Hardingshire!"

This was an elderly nobleman, who was slowly walking forward with the help of his attendants, but the nobles beside him all subconsciously made way for him.

“Be careful, Thales,” Ian said solemnly as he looked at the old nobleman who had entered. “Nazaire—this old man is from the same era as Nunn. He and Count Risban were Nunn’s right and left arms.”

“I heard that King Nuen once played a joke on his subordinates.”

“If Risban betrays Dragon City, King Nuen will be furious and personally lead the army to quell the rebellion until the prime minister he once trusted most pays the price.”

Ian changed the subject: "But if Nazel betrays Dragonstreet, then King Nunn should just go back to sleep."

Thales was taken aback: "Why?"

Ian shook his head and clicked his tongue, saying, "Because Dragon City is finished."

Thales frowned slightly: "That's an exaggeration?"

“These five men, plus Regent Risban,” Ian whispered in Thales’ ear, “are the six earls whom King Nunn trusted and valued most during his lifetime. Each of their families is as powerful as a small country, and the number of warriors they can bring out to fight without hesitation is more than 20,000, almost twice that of the Walton family itself.”

“They all appear to be experienced rulers,” Thales said softly.

"King Nuen doesn't allow any incompetent or low-ability subordinates under him, so what you see here are all outstanding individuals who have served him for decades, spreading his fame far and wide throughout Dragonsky City and even Exter—unlike our Qiyuan City, well, never mind—in short," Ian shook his head:

"This is also part of King Nuen's legacy."

“That’s why Dragoncity is the most powerful and terrifying force in Exter,” Thales added, carefully observing the five earls.

“That was in the past, when King Nuen was still alive,” Ian shook his head dismissively. “And now? Humph—for the past six years, apart from King Nuen’s funeral, the five earls have never entered Dragonstreet again, and even the council has only assigned officials, until today.”

Thales nodded.

But then he overheard the interaction between the five counts.

"How is your territory, Kahn?" Earl Curtson, dressed in full armor, said in a voice as firm as iron. "Ever since His Majesty snapped the neck of their previous Grand Duke, those bastards of Beacon City haven't dared to provoke you again, have they?"

"Stop with the nonsense," said the one-armed Earl Kahn Kerkegol, showing no mercy to Corterson. His expression remained unchanged, his demeanor one of complete aloofness. "We all know why we're here—let's skip the small talk."

Curtson, feeling foolish, snorted and turned his head away.

“The Soul-Slaying Spear is as sharp as ever,” said Earl Nazel, who appeared to be the most senior among them, as he fixed his gaze on the Soul-Slaying Spear behind the Grand Duke’s seat and sighed. “But the one we were loyal to, who sat beneath it, is no longer here.”

These words caused the expressions of all five earls to darken simultaneously.

Nazel shook his head, his eyes filled with melancholy: "When was the last time we all gathered together?"

"Six years ago," Earl Linna, his voice cold and stern, replied from behind him, shifting his chair sharply as if everything around him displeased him: "First the stars, then the calamity, then the dragons, and finally the Black Sand Territory... When we arrived with our men, all that was left was His Majesty's funeral."

The five people were silent for a moment.

“Ridiculous,” Linna began, shaking his head coldly. “A bizarre election of kings, with five outsiders plus Risban, decided who would rule us, turning the mighty Dragonsky City into Exter’s biggest joke…”

"Linna!" Earl Hearst with the golden beard interrupted him angrily, "For the sake of the Sky Queen!"

"Stop complaining!"

Upon hearing this, Thales felt a shadow fall over his heart.

Selma.

What kind of vassals have you been dealing with for the past six years?

Count Linna gave a disdainful snort and was about to speak.

"Eagle County and the Earl of Bloodshed!"

The messenger's voice rang out again: "Regent of Dragonrise City, Charles Risban!"

Finally, Thales saw someone familiar.

With an undeniable air of authority and solemnity, the Count of Lisbon, as composed and serene as ever, stepped into the hall.

Unlike before, the nobles fell silent the moment the Lisbon Regent entered.

Only the five earls at the very front looked at him defiantly.

Count Linna even gave a light snort.

The Regent of Lisbon strolled up to the five counts, his expression indifferent: "Gentlemen, it is my honor to have you here."

“It’s not you, Charles,” Count Nazel shook his head, a grim smile on his face. “It’s not you… We have come in response to the Lord’s call.”

Lisban turned his head and glanced at Nazel.

“Of course,” the Regent said softly. He turned and walked past the five seats to sit in the one closest to the Grand Duke’s seat.

The other four didn't even glance at Lisban.

It was as if he wasn't one of the six at all, not one of their companions.

Thales frowned as he watched the interaction between the six counts.

"Ian."

The prince suddenly took a step toward Ronnie and spoke softly:
“Tell me, in this matter, Longxiao City is not your only hope.”

Ian, who was waving to his delegation from afar, paused slightly.

He turned around, looking puzzled: "What?"

Thales's expression was firm: "Tell me."

Ian frowned slightly, as if he had thought of something: "You seem... not very confident in us?"

Thales shook his head, his expression unreadable: "Just tell me."

Ian squinted.

“Of course not,” the heir of Qiyuan City finally snorted, “Longxiao City is just one of them.” His face darkened slightly, “By now, my sister has probably already arrived in Jieshou City on a mission.”

Thales pondered for a moment.

"Defend the city, Grand Duke of Lecco."

He recalled the bald old Grand Duke and the scene of him roaring in this hall six years ago: "Of course, twenty years ago, they were also among the reinforcements attacking the Liberal League."

The prince looked up, his face showing worry: "But what you can think of, Rumba can also think of—just like when you came to Dragon City."

Ian whistled and waved his hand dismissively: "My sister will have a way. Heaven knows how she'll use those big breasts to lure that old bald man into sending troops, or with her mouth—who knows which one."

Thales frowned.

He noticed that Ian's gaze slowly fixed on mid-air, lost in thought.

"You don't seem to like your sister very much?"

Ian snorted, seemingly unconvinced.

“Don’t get me wrong, we used to be very close,” Little Ronnie said with a snort, looking at the dragon spear carving in the clouds above his head. “But now we’re practically mortal enemies.”

His expression was sarcastic.

Thales raised an eyebrow: "Mind if I ask why?"

Ian didn't speak; he just glanced at Thales with a complicated expression.

Just then, an even louder shout came from the doorway:
"The bloodline of Nekaju and Sara—"

All the northerners in the hall turned their heads!

With the clatter of countless chairs, all the people of the North stood up.

Even the six earls were no exception.

They all clenched their right fists solemnly and pressed them firmly against their hearts.

"The heir of the Dragonlance family—"

Ian sighed and slowly stood up.

Urged on by countless disapproving glances, Thales quickly stood up.

"The ruler of Dragon Sky City—"

Amidst the thunderous shouts, Thales peered through the layers of shoulders and saw a light figure approaching slowly with heavy steps.

is her.

The girl he knew all too well, accompanied by Nicolai, walked past the upper and lower vassals on both sides and headed to her seat.

That one and only seat.

The girl's face was calm, her posture elegant and poised, as she walked forward step by step.

“You ask me why,” Ian’s voice came slowly from beside me, “See, this is why.”

Prince Star was taken aback and turned his head.

"what?"

Ian curled the corners of his mouth into a mocking smile.

Six years ago.

“The first female Grand Duchess in Exter’s history has ascended the throne in Dragonsreach, right here in this hall,” Ian’s eyes turned cold. He turned his head, glancing at the Soul-Slaying Spear on the fireplace, then at the young woman slowly approaching in the center of the hall. His voice was tinged with resentment.
"Grand Duchess 'Madame'"

"From that time on..."

"My dearest twin sister, the woman who was conceived in the same mother's womb as me."

"She no longer sees me as just...her dearest brother."

Thales was stunned.

Thumb, thump, thump...

Through the layers of people, the young princess continued her journey.

She endured the unbridled gazes of countless men, shrugged off their overt and covert gossip, walked across the ancient, rugged bricks of Valhalla, and entered the council chamber, a place for which only male nobles had been qualified to enter for centuries.

I walked step by step to my seat.

For a moment, Thales wished he didn't have sharp hearing or clear vision.

Because he saw that all the men in the hall, regardless of age or social status, were staring at the Grand Duchess's figure and appearance without any restraint, from front to back and from top to bottom.

He also heard them laughing, teasing, and making lewd comments about the Grand Duchess's figure, face, and even her...

A surge of inexplicable anger welled up inside Thales, causing him to unconsciously clench his fists.

The more you squeeze, the tighter it gets.

But the girl kept moving forward.

Thumb, thump, thump...

Her footsteps struck the centuries-old floor tiles of Valhalla, producing a crisp sound.

The floor tiles of Valhalla remain sturdy, just as they have been over the years, indestructible.

But the girl kept moving forward.

Thumb, thump, thump...

Her boots continued to pound the floor tiles, and even though the tiles never broke or shook in the slightest, she never stopped or ceased.

They never retreated.

“You know, ever since then, my sister’s eyes,” Ian’s voice continued, a dangerous glint in the eyes of the heir to Qiyuan City:
“Those beautiful eyes no longer looked at makeup and clothes, dowry and money, or the young and handsome men who might become her support and refuge in the future, or the things that women are born to care about and cherish.”

Instead, she looked at her father.

"Looked at me."

Thales did not speak.

The girl was light and graceful, with a calm expression, but her footsteps were still heavy.

It was as if they were carrying an immense burden.

“You changed the rules, Thales,” Ian said slowly, but with an underlying somber mood.
"You and Rumba together."

His eyes, which held an unsettling glint, looked at Thales: "It's you."

"You took my sister away."

The young girl finally stepped onto the steps that belonged to the Grand Duke.

Nikolai stood still on the first step. As her most important guard, he could not go any further.

The girl had to climb the steps alone.

I stepped into her seat.

Alone.

As the young woman reached her seat, the messenger's deliberately prolonged call came to an end: "Grand Duchess—"

"—Selma Walton!"

Under the watchful eyes of countless people, Selma slowly sat down, her face pale with shock.

Everyone below the steps—the vassals of Dragon Sky City—bowed their heads.

They paid tribute to their lords.

But Thales heard it.

With the blessing of the River of Hell's sins, he heard it with perfect clarity—

Plop... plop... plop...

He could hear the powerful, continuous throbbing of the Grand Duchess's chest.

That was Selma's heartbeat.

Vibrant and powerful.

Even the chaotic noise of everyone sitting down in the hall couldn't drown it out.

Thales sighed deeply.

“I see,” Thales sat down, looking thoughtfully at Ian beside him. “You came to Dragonsreach for the Free Alliance’s crisis, while your sister went to Guardian City… If you fail…”

“No,” Ian interrupted him coldly.

The eyes of the heir to Qiyuan City burned with a flame that Thales could not ignore: "I will not fail."

"She will be the only one to fail."

"It can only be her."

Thales turned his head and looked at Ian.

“You just said,” the second prince nodded slowly, his words carrying a deeper meaning, “that I took your sister away?”

Ian frowned.

Thales sighed and slowly clenched his fist: "You're right."

“I took it,” Thales took a deep breath and looked at the Grand Duchess on the throne, who was forcibly maintaining her composure as she looked at the entire audience:

"She is indeed 'your' sister."

Thales smiled.

He turned to look at the Grand Duchess who was about to speak, leaving Ian with a suspicious look on his face.

Just now, as Selma slowly walked to her seat, and as Ian recounted his story with his sister, tinged with resentment, Thales suddenly realized something:

It turns out that six years ago...

He, and Rumba.

What they did in this hall.

It's not just about compromise.

(End of this chapter)