Kingdom Bloodline

Chapter 335 The Bewilderment on the Way Home
Thales thought Raphael's instructions were enough to make him uneasy.

It wasn't until Putilae took thirty seconds, in the smoke-filled passage, to explain to Thales the way to get the latter out of the city safely.

In summary—Thales looked at the composed Putiret with a twitching face—it was:
follow me.

Go forward.

Then smile.

Gone.

“Wait, wait, wait!” Thales stared incredulously at Putila, who was lost in the smoke: “What do you mean by ‘keep moving forward’ and ‘smile kindly at the contact’?”

Putila took a deep drag on his cigarette and slowly exhaled a perfect smoke ring.

"And there was no disguise, no..." The prince responded with deep concern and disdain to the other party's vague explanation: "Who is the contact? When will we meet? How is he going to get me out... cough cough cough..."

The smoke from Putila made the already dimly lit passageway even more confusing, and the pungent smell of tobacco made Thales cough repeatedly.

“Please forgive me, Your Highness,” Putila said calmly. “For the past month, the sheer number of people from Dragon City following me around has been enough to keep me busy, leaving me no time to even smoke.”

"Don't worry, your contact will find you," Putila smiled gently at Thales's accusing gaze. "And the place you're going to is relatively safe. As for not disguising yourself, it's because I was afraid he wouldn't recognize you..."

Thales narrowed his eyes: "Him?"

Putila took two steps to him, smiled, put her arm around his shoulder, and pulled Thales away.

"Alright, enough nonsense," Putila said, biting his cigarette holder and exhaling another puff of smoke. "Your Highness, I'll see you off now!"

Thales's doubts only increased.

"what?"

The prince covered his nose and frowned, struggling to find his way through the smoke: "But that's all you've said..."

However, before he could finish speaking, Putilai pressed his hand down and covered his mouth!

Putilae looked serious and gestured for him to be quiet.

Thales was startled and unconsciously held his breath, inhaling slowly only through his nose.

But Putila exhaled another puff of smoke, his mouth still opening and closing: "Believe me, that's enough... My route is absolutely safe..."

Step, step, step.

Putila coldly led him forward, without stopping.

They passed through a side path and, under the cover of smoke, made their way to the next undying lamp.

Thales grew increasingly apprehensive as he walked.

Who is he... wary of?
No.

Thales regained consciousness.

He knows.

In this underground passage, Putila only needs to be wary of...

Putila stopped when she reached a dark door that was just as unsightly as the surrounding earthen walls, and the passage behind her disappeared into darkness. She paused for a few seconds and turned back to listen to something.

After a moment, he took a deep breath and released Thales.

"It seems he really has left."

Putila put down his extinguished pipe, his expression slightly relaxed.

Thales looked at him incredulously and whispered, "What happened?"

Why should...

But Putila quickly answered his question.

“Now that the secret service is gone,” the thin, middle-aged lord sighed, leaning against the wall, “it’s time…”

The middle-aged man's face flickered under the ever-burning light, dust settled on his shoulders, leaving stains, but Putila made no attempt to wipe them away.

Thales' heart skipped a beat.

He hadn't seen Putila like this in a long time.

The last time, it seems, was six years ago?
In the dim light, Putila composed himself before slowly speaking: "Listen carefully, Your Highness. What I'm about to say is something that Gilbert, that hypocritical old fox, would never tell you."

"He will only encourage you with eyes full of stars to be a good prince and lead the kingdom to its peak."

"It won't be some mysterious or secret discipline that will tell you."

"Their principle is always 'the fewer the better,' whether they are insiders or participants."

Thales found it increasingly strange.

Neither Gilbert nor Miko will tell me...

“Putila,” the prince looked at him in disbelief, “what insider, what participant?”

Putila pursed his lips, the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes making him look even more tired.

"Your Highness."

“We went to such great lengths to rescue you, and you just asked, ‘Was it worth it?’” Putile frowned, holding his pipe upside down, no longer caring about the ash spilling out. “It wasn’t just out of guilt, was it?”

"You also have doubts."

Thales was momentarily stunned.

He looked at Putila with a suspicious gaze:
"what do you want to say?"

Putila closed her eyes, slowly inhaled, and then slowly exhaled.

"What I want to answer for you is that doubt: the doubt that you've had since I arrived in Dragon City several dozen days ago."

Thales's expression turned serious.

Putila opened her eyes.

“Your Highness,” Putila said solemnly, as if he had made up his mind, “you once asked me where I had been for the past six years and why I have only appeared now to bring you back to the country?”

"Why now?"

Thales frowned slightly at first, then, full of doubt, nodded gently under Putila's somewhat unusual gaze: "Yes?"

In the narrow passage, Thales and Putila leaned against the walls on either side, facing each other silently, looking at each other's faces, half-lit and half-shadowed in the lamplight.

“You’re right,” Putila said softly. “We didn’t suddenly decide to rescue you because we thought six years was too long.”

"There's a reason why we, including the secret agents who have been monitoring you for six years, suddenly appeared in Dragon City after six years to rescue you."

Thales' pupils focused slightly.

His heartbeat gradually quickened.

"You mean..."

Putila took another breath, as if the action required immense courage: "I think there are some things you need to know... at least some of them."

Thales was alarmed to find that Putila's voice was trembling slightly.

Even he himself began to feel nervous without realizing it.

"Your Highness, do you remember what happened in Dragon Sky City six years ago?"

“Hoo,” Thales exhaled, turning to those unpleasant memories: “I wish I could forget the calamity that struck the city, the dragons’ return, Rumba’s regicide, and…”

Puttier interrupted him almost rudely.

“No,” the gaunt lord said coldly, “it’s not just that.”

"Six years ago on that day, in the shadows we couldn't see, outside Valhalla and the Shield District, other things happened."

Thales' eyes widened slowly.

Other...something?
“As you can tell, I worked for Prince Midil when I was young,” Putila said, his voice sounding somewhat distressed as he spoke of the past. “Sometimes, I would get… closer to Miko.”

"That's why I was able to find the necessary support so quickly during the crisis six years ago."

Thales felt a chill run down his spine and began to scrutinize the man before him again.

Yes.

I can see it.

But... this is the first time you've admitted it.

Putila Niemann.

Putila let out a long sigh, seemingly still reminiscing about the past: "Six years ago, the headquarters of the Kingdom's Secret Service in Dragon Sky City, right above us, had not yet been converted into this chess and card room."

“Back then, it was just an inn,” Putila said, her weariness evident.
“That night, it was with the help of the master of this place that I was able to obtain support, gather resources, and give orders to carry out the operation—you were able to escape from prison thanks to him.”

Thales instinctively looked up, but all he could see was an uneven ceiling with a few spiderwebs in the corners.

Even my nose was filled with the damp, chilly feeling typical of a basement.

Chess Room.

Hotel?

Secret Service Headquarters?

The prince lowered his head, his question still lingering: "However?"

Putila nodded as he expected.

"However."

“On the very morning we stormed into the palace and fought Lumba to the death,” Putila said in a heavy, sorrowful tone, “the owner of this inn, the highest-ranking official of the Kingdom’s Secret Service Exter branch, a top-level intelligence officer who had been lurking here for nearly twenty years, Karen Booker.”

"Died a violent death."

Thales was startled at first, then rolled his eyes.

He could understand Putila's grief, and he could understand the strangeness of her untimely death, but that didn't relate to what the other person wanted to say...

Thales quickly pressed, "The intelligence officer died a violent death? What happened?"

Putila's eyes dimmed, and his face contorted in the flickering lamplight: "Breakout robbery, the robber stabbed Booker four times in the back."

Thales frowned: "But..."

“Yes, Booker has been a friend of mine for many years,” Putila nodded with a precognitive air, guessing what Thales was thinking. “I know his capabilities. Even though that night of disaster and dragons was indeed chaotic, no burglar could take Booker’s life.”

She stared at him silently, patiently waiting for him to continue.

In the next sentence, Putila gets to the point.

Putila's eyes widened, his lips trembled slightly, and his face turned serious: "But what's truly terrifying is what he recorded—the secret codes that Booker kept in the inn's ledger."

“During those days, he met certain people, found certain things, and obtained some scattered clues, Your Highness.”

“For the past six years, Miko and I have been tracking down these clues left behind after Booker’s death,” Putila said, turning his face away from the light in the darkness, burying his face in shadow. “Until recently, we have made some progress.”

Thales was slightly anxious: "What results?"

Putila first slowly exhaled, as if trying to expel something, then inhaled deeply, as if gathering something, and his slightly hoarse, weary voice rang out:
“Some old stories, some terrible things that even the Black Prophet could not keep calm about, things that could shake the entire kingdom.”

Thales' eyes widened: "What?"

Black Prophet?
Shaking the kingdom?

Putila nodded heavily.

“From that day on, we understood: you are not actually safe, and neither is the Star Kingdom.”

"Therefore, your rescue has been elevated to the most urgent priority of the kingdom and even the Secret Service," he said, looking at Thales with unspeakable pity and sorrow. "So, six years later, the Palace of Restoration has decided to spare no effort to bring you out of Exter and back to Everstar City."

Thales was stunned.

He doesn't understand.

Putila seemed to breathe a sigh of relief and relax completely: "This is the answer, the answer to what I have been doing for the past six years, and the answer to why you suddenly returned to the country."

But Thales was still not relieved.

He stood up suddenly.

"What? What is it?"

Thales stared intently at Putila, searching for the right words, and couldn't help but raise his voice: "Six years ago, six years ago in Dragon City, what exactly happened above us that was enough to shake the entire Star Kingdom?"

But Putila disappointed him.

The other person shook his head: "No, Your Highness, I have said all I need to say."

Telston immediately became anxious: "But..."

Putilae raised a hand and interrupted him.

“Because I don’t know either,” Putila said, her face filled with sorrow and bitterness. “I don’t know, and I dare not believe, whether what I have discovered is the truth, and I don’t know whether the truth I understand is the truth that the Secret Society saw, or…”

He paused.

But Putila continued to speak.

"...Does the truth he believes in align with His Majesty's belief on the throne, and by how much does it deviate?"

His Majesty?

A chill, seemingly from nowhere, crept up Thales's back.

Putila suddenly raised her head, as if she had regained her strength: "I will remember, Your Highness."

His voice tightened, his speech quickened, and a hint of bitterness crept in: "In this matter... don't trust anyone, don't be certain of anything, don't be bound by any impressions—sometimes, even the scene before your eyes may be a lie and an illusion!"

Thales became increasingly puzzled as he listened.

What is he saying?
What's going on?

Finally, like a dying patient struggling to breathe, Putila calmed down and resumed long, steady breathing after taking her first breath of air.

The pipe in his hand was almost broken in two.

But Putile's next words caused Thales to lose his composure!
"Your Highness."

"You must do it, and you should do it..."

"The truth about the bloody year, about your own origins," Putila said, heavy and sorrowful.

"You'll have to discover, investigate, and verify all of this yourself."

At that moment, it was as if someone was beating a war drum in his ear, and Thales shuddered!
The prince's mind raced, his unusual thinking instantly producing countless matching pieces of information.

A bloody year?
Thales instinctively clutched his chest, where the map of the Restoration Palace that King Nunn had given him years ago was pressed tightly against his lapel.

But wasn't the bloody year also the year of the second prince, Horace...?

Was it Black Sword and his men who assassinated him...?

And what about my background?
But didn't the Sky Queen say that dragon names...?

Thales was pale; he remembered Selma's parting words:

【Tails, eighteen years ago, the blood-red year of the stars…】

[...all of them are related to disasters.]

Ashda, Giza...

His mind was becoming increasingly confused, and the surplus of intelligence and information was almost making him lose his way.

Putilai, the Black Prophet, Myco, and even King Kessel...

What exactly are they...?

What secret was discovered?
What secret did they learn?
How much of this overlaps with the secrets I know?
Thales swayed slightly and leaned against the wall.

Silence returned to the passageway.

Several seconds later, the prince slowly raised his head and stared blankly at the person in front of him.

Looking into the middle-aged man's lifeless gaze.

Putila looked at the hidden door and sighed softly, "It's time."

"You should depart now, Your Highness."

This is Putila's farewell speech.

The hidden door opened.

A boy slowly walked out of the dark passage, climbed out of a cave, bypassed the ruins of the low wall that served as cover, and entered this secluded and deserted alley.

He stopped and slowly raised his head.

The boy stood blankly in the open-air Dragon Sky City, in this corner piled with clutter, his thoughts in turmoil.

In the distance, the bright moon had already risen into the sky.

It illuminated his way home.

Just now.

"Hahaha--"

In the distance outside the alley, a rude and unpleasant voice suddenly rang out!

"Hahaha, that's impossible!"

Thales was startled and instinctively pressed himself against the wall, holding his breath.

“We respect you, so we’re not joking,” another, slightly cold voice rang out. “Dragon City is different now. This matter must be resolved. The new leaders of the Bow District have stated that they are willing to do so as long as you agree…”

That rude and fierce voice rang out again, seemingly disregarding politeness as it interrupted the former:
“You know, a few hours ago, that dead-faced guy from Valhalla also came to see me. His purpose was similar to yours, and he said similar things.”

The rough voice mimicked the 'dead face' he'd mentioned: "But he's far more imposing than any of you. He stormed into the Shield Zone with two rows of guards, looking like he could kill anyone he glared at: 'In the name of the Grand Duchess of Dragonsky City, I need the whereabouts of that prince.'"

Thales tensed slightly.

“You mean,” a third voice rang out from the other end, seemingly in cahoots with the previous cold voice, and he asked cautiously, “that mad meteorite-wielder has personally brought people to find you?”

The Meteorite?
Upon hearing the familiar name, Thales brought his thoughts back to the present, casting aside any unnecessary emotions.

It sounds like... two sides are facing off, with one side having a minority of rude voices and the other side having a majority.

"Ha, do you know how I answered him?" A gruff, menacing voice rang out again, filled with disdain: "You'd better listen carefully, because I'm going to answer you the same way..."

The next moment, it seemed that the owner of that rude voice spat hard at the ground: "Pah!"

"I don't fucking care if you're a meteorite or a star manipulator, a grand duchess or a matriarch—"

"Get the hell out of here, all of you!"

This update at this hour is driving me crazy.

I took a shower and then prepared to have breakfast.

By the way, happy birthday, Mantou Girl!

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(End of this chapter)