Kingdom Bloodline

Chapter 368 Dante's Greatsword

A sword dealer?
Thales' mind was a complete blank. Wrapped in a blanket, he felt as if he had just been pulled out of ice water, having just regained some of his senses.

Sword seller...

what is that?
He stared blankly at the smug-looking quick rope.

Just then, a loud and powerful female voice came from behind Thales: "Mercenary."

"We are mercenaries—as for 'sellsword,' that's what some people call us. It may be intuitive, vivid, and easy to understand, but we don't usually call ourselves that except for newbies. Just like businessmen don't call themselves 'money-grubbing,' apprentices don't call themselves 'money-grubbing,' and women who can't find men and men who can't find women don't call themselves 'wanted.'"

The newbie, who had been excitedly making a quick rope swing, suddenly looked dejected and made a face at Thales.

Thales couldn't help but notice that although the other person was speaking Common, the pronunciation was difficult and the tone was high-pitched. Many of the accents and intonations were very different from the Common of the North that he was familiar with, and they did not match the accent of Everstar City that he remembered.

He turned his head.

Three masked, lightly armed warriors, moving swiftly, appeared in his sight, their faces covered in dust as they trudged through the gravel. Those around them quickly gave way upon seeing them.

They stepped into the campfire, one by one removing their face masks and headscarves that had been protecting them from the wind and sand:

A young man with slightly darker skin, his face painted with unreadable black markings, carried two scimitars crossed on his back, one hilt protruding from each shoulder, and his eyes were always wary of Thales; a middle-aged warrior with graying hair put down a frightening warhammer with a hammerhead and spikes, and looked at the warm campfire with a contented expression amidst his full beard.

Finally, there's the owner of that loud female voice.

She was a medium-sized, chestnut-haired female warrior with regular, simple features that showed signs of hardship. Her back, carrying a bow and arrows, was ramrod straight, and her bandaged arms were always resting on the sword at her waist.

The three of them walked into the small camp together and each found a comfortable spot to sit down by the campfire. The burly warrior wielding the hammer even happily touched Quick Rope's hair, which made the latter protest unhappily.

"By the way, I am Louisa Dante."

The female warrior who spoke—Luisa—put down her longbow, unsheathed her sword, and smiled gently at the weakened Thales: "It's good to see you awake, child. You are lucky—not every stranded lone traveler can survive in the desert."

Her smile was bright and gentle, making people feel good about her.

Thales paused for a moment, then returned her a grateful smile.

mercenary.

He had heard of these people before; in fact, he had encountered similar individuals before. Six years ago, when he first arrived at Mindis Hall, a small group of people, under the direction (or deceiving) of the Duke of Iris, came to probe the royal property that the King had visited late at night, and all of them perished.

But nothing more.

In the chaotic lower district of Everstar City, many people are willing to sell unusual labor in uncommon and often illegal ways for a few silver coins: debt collectors, prostitutes, pickpockets, assassins, swindlers, and bounty hunters. As long as it doesn't affect protection money or cause trouble, the Black Street Brotherhood often turns a blind eye to its members taking on private jobs. Even the Sixth House, where Thales works, has taken on jobs that involve causing a ruckus in the street for a few copper coins.

But within the high walls of the majestic capital, Thales had never witnessed the pinnacle of this profession—those who sold violence purely for money, the professional mercenaries who only appeared in bards' poems and rumors.

It is said that they usually only travel and risk their lives in remote wilderness areas far from the law, unstable border regions, or war-torn countries, seeking employers, pointing their swords at innocent people, and taking blood-stained wages from the powerful and influential.

In Longxiao City, where the people are known for their fierce and martial spirit, there are even fewer mercenaries: in a place where almost all able-bodied men have served in the military and take pride in killing enemies and fighting, even a seventy-year-old man can fiercely swing a large axe for ten rounds, so who would be willing to rely on someone else and depend on the weapons of strangers?

As the political center, Yongxing City has no need for mercenaries, nor does Longxiao City, which serves the people, have any need for mercenaries.

But here...

Thales stared at the equipment on these men, which was of various lengths and suitable for both close and long ranges, quite different from the equipment of professional or conscripted soldiers who pursued a single function.

He slowly turned his head, looking at the dangerous desert under the howling wind, at the several campfires in the distance where people were making noise, at the unknown darkness beyond his sight, and at the camel caravan kneeling and resting in a circle around the camp. Suddenly, he understood something.

"So?" The female warrior unsheathed her sword, brushed the sand off her body, and looked at him expectantly.

Thales snapped out of his daze and looked at the other person politely: "So what?"

“I told you my name, boy, and as a courtesy and in response…”

Louisa's smile remained unchanged.

"Oh, I'm so sorry!"

"I am--"

Thales then realized what was happening. He hurriedly tried to sit up, but everything went black and his arms went limp.

"Whoa, whoa, take it easy," Quick Rope said, catching Thales just as he was about to fall and gently setting him down, sounding quite alarmed.
“You can’t stand up yet. When you were found, you were lying face down in the middle of the road, half of your body buried in the yellow sand, looking like an inconspicuous piece of sandstone. If Dean hadn’t had a sharp eye, a whole caravan of Bactrian camels—a total of twenty-three, each weighing eight or nine hundred pounds—would have trampled you over!”

“Relax, kid,” the burly warrior with the hammer stroked his beard. “You’re out of danger, and we’ll have a whole night to hear you introduce yourself.”

Thales gave him a grateful look, then turned to Louisa: "I am... my name is..."

The prince was taken aback.

He hadn't properly introduced himself to strangers in a long time. In fact, whether he was a beggar or a prince, he didn't need to introduce himself: in the former, no one cared about his name; in the latter, everyone knew his name.

Looking at the curious gazes of the others, and their unfamiliar and distant eyes, Thales couldn't help but feel a strange sense of absurdity.

“Wyman,” his voice weakly rose by the campfire:

My name is Wyman.

The others exchanged glances.

“So, Wyman,” Louisa stared intently at him, “how did you end up in the desert?”

Thales tried his best to make himself appear more credible.

"I...I'm unlucky, in fact, very unlucky."

Thales sighed. “My father was a man of some power when he was alive. Unfortunately, he made enemies in the North, and when he could no longer protect me, his enemies sent one thug after another—the kind with a bad temper and sharp knives—to come after me. I had no choice but to run away, to run south.”

"They drove me all the way into the desert."

Thales knew he looked terrible, but he also knew the other man must have seen his baggage. He needed a good reason to explain why a fourteen-year-old boy would carry a crossbow, arrows, and a dagger and venture alone into the desert.

What's more, they saved their own lives.

Louisa looked at the warrior with the hammer, and they nodded to each other.

“Wow, something that could scare you so much that you ran away to the desert,” Quick Rope’s eyes lit up. “Your enemies must hate you a lot.”

Thales nodded silently and said sadly, "I didn't expect life in the desert to be so difficult. I can't even last four or five days."

"enemy."

Thales looked up curiously and found that the one who had interrupted was the young warrior with black markings all over his face. He sat by the fire, staring coldly at the prince and wiping the edge of his blade.

“So you have an enemy chasing you—and of course, trouble always follows,” he said softly, expressionless.

Thales was momentarily at a loss for words.

“You can put away your fierce look now, McKee,” Louisa glanced disapprovingly at the black-striped man named McKee, seemingly annoyed by his attitude. “I know what you’re worried about—this kid isn’t a spy or undercover agent for the Sand Bandits.”

Thales was startled.

The man wiping his scimitar paused slightly.

“No, you don’t know my worries,” McKee’s face turned serious. “If you had known, we wouldn’t have been hired by that unscrupulous businessman, and we wouldn’t be here.”

"Dean knows, but he won't listen to me."

Louisa pouted.

Thales watched their argument with curiosity.

The burly soldier with a full beard laughed and raised his hands to smooth things over: "Relax, buddy, there's no need to keep such a long face all the time."

He turned to McGee and pointed to the weakened Thales.

“But you saw it too, McKee, he almost died there. No bandit gang would send a thirsty kid to spy on them—and Tomding’s caravan doesn’t have much to steal. We’ll be fine… In fact, we haven’t encountered any bandits or exiles along the way, and you know why.”

Thales gave a weak smile.

McGee snorted.

"That's what I'm worried about."

“Mortals try to interfere with the desert with their power, but the desert god never forgives them,” McKee’s eyes grew increasingly serious, and he glanced at the sky: “This means: we’re in trouble.”

Thales made a move.

The middle-aged soldier burst into laughter.

“Never mind McKee, that’s just how he is. Locals always have prejudices against travelers, and they’re always talking nonsense,” the bearded warrior scoffed dismissively, turning to Thales. “Let’s talk about something else more interesting…”

Thales was stunned.

He glanced at McGee.

native?
Just now.

"So, you're a nobleman from the North, forced to flee to the Great Desert?" Louisa said calmly.

“You know, your accent sounds like someone from the North.”

"Um, I guess so?" Thales answered cautiously.

Yes, that's all he could say. And his six years of experience in Dragon City had made it so that he didn't even need to deliberately imitate it; the northern accent came naturally to him.

The burly soldier on the side laughed: "Very good, Northerners, I like Northerners the most... Maybe we should let Dean talk to his fellow Northerners..."

Just then, Quick Rope slapped his own thigh!
"noble!"

Quick Rope rubbed his hands together excitedly, his eyes shining.

“Very good! We can talk about payment now,” he said, looking at Thales with a broad smile. “You know, young Mr. Wyman, I saved your life—from being buried in the desert sands.”

Thales was slightly taken aback.

"Yes, thank you."

But he also noticed that Louisa, the middle-aged warrior, and even the young man with black markings all rolled their eyes.

Quick Rope straightened up with a smug look on his face.

"So, according to the rules of the desert, I saved you."

“In other words, I will automatically own all your property, including your personal rights,” Quick Rope coughed, put his hands on his hips, and said seriously, “So, Wyman—you are mine now.”

Thales was completely taken aback.

"do you understand?"

The next moment, a hand the size of a pot lid slammed into the back of Kuaisheng's head from behind!

Snapped!
"Ah!" Quick Rope's scream even startled a camel in the distance.

Seeing Quick Rope's miserable screams, Louisa and the burly warrior both laughed, and even McKee, whose face was gloomy, curled up the corners of his mouth.

Thales looked in surprise at the person who appeared behind the rope.

"If this newbie keeps spouting this nonsense, this is how you deal with him, and you can't go wrong."

A familiar and mature voice joined the conversation.

The bald man, whom they had met before, returned to the camp with a cold expression and sat down next to Louisa. Accompanying him was a strong man with a mustache, carrying a two-handed greatsword, and remaining silent.

The others quickly made way for them, clearly indicating that they were all on the same team.

Quick Rope looked up, tears welling in his eyes: "Dean! I wasn't wrong, the rescuer has the right..."

Bald Dean snorted, interrupting him: "But this is a desert, not the sea, and you weren't the one who saved him."

“Ignore him,” Louisa sighed, turning her gaze away from the tormented Quick Rope and shaking her head apologetically at Thales. “This rookie was a sailor before he entered the trade—that’s why we like to call him Quick Rope—he doesn’t know anything, but he always likes to bring the rules of the high seas here.”

Quick Rope excitedly raised his hand in protest.

"But...a sea made of sand is also a type of ocean, isn't it?"

The response to the aggrieved Quick Rope was a piece of bread thrown in his face by a soldier with a hammer.

Thales stared blankly at the group's antics.

The burly warrior wielding the hammer, revealing yellow teeth amidst his beard, smiled at Thales and said, "Hello, stranger Wyman... You can call me Old Hammer, since I'm in charge of swinging the hammer in the group."

Thales nodded.

“That grumpy-faced guy is McKee. You should see how he wields his twin swords. He’s our clairvoyant eye and guide,” McKee, the man with black markings, hummed softly.

"And I believe you've already seen the quick rope; this Commass sailor is in charge of telling jokes..."

"Hey!" Quick Rope struggled to break free from Old Hammer's large hand, protesting as he did so.

"Jokes are important too, you know!"

Old Hammer ignored him and shoved the bread into Quick Rope's mouth. "You know Dean? The one sitting next to Dean who doesn't talk is 'Firewood,' a burly man from Thorns, who specializes in killing." Firewood, the man carrying a two-handed greatsword, nodded to him.

Thales greeted them warmly.

“There are still five guys on duty outside, and this lively girl in front of me…”

Poor Quick Rope yanked the bread out of his mouth, picked up where Old Hammer left off, and swung his arms at Louisa, vividly describing the scene:

"Luisa Dante!"

"Our captain is beautiful, cute, strong, and charming, but unfortunately she has a bit of a temper!"

Louisa's face flushed slightly.

Thales raised his eyebrows.

Quick Rope glanced at his somewhat embarrassed captain, then turned to the bald man, his eyes darting around:
"And then there's Big Dean—our beautiful, cute, strong, and charming captain who's just a bit temperamental, and everyone dreams of marrying him!"

next second.

"what!"

Louisa's wristband slammed hard into Quick Rope's forehead.

“Shut up.” Louisa twisted her face sharply, glaring at the rope through gritted teeth.

Thales saw that everyone else lowered their heads and went about their work as if they hadn't heard him: Old Hammer started picking his beard again, Fire continued drinking his water, McGee finished wiping the second knife and went back to wiping the first one, while Bald Dean, one of the main figures in the dispute, coughed awkwardly.

"Did I said wrong thing?"

Quick Rope raised his head with dissatisfaction: "You are our leader and captain, the beloved Louisa."

“No one can deny that you assembled this team and carried the ‘Greatsword of Dante’ – Dean has never objected to this.”

Louisa's face darkened even more.

"You know, that's not what I meant."

"So which one do you think I'm referring to?"

Responding to the quick rope flying through the air was another wristband belonging to Louisa.

Thales stared wide-eyed at their interaction.

He suddenly realized that the vast desert wasn't entirely so terrifying after all.

Dante's greatsword.

Thales nodded, pondering the name of the mercenary group.

So, the female warrior was the leader of these mercenaries, and the group was named after her surname.

but……

Amid the noise, Dean coughed again and looked back at Thales.

“Have something to eat, you’ve just recovered,” he said, handing Thales a loaf of bread and a water bag. “Water can sustain life, but it can’t fill your stomach.”

Thales accepted the food with a heavy heart, forcing a grateful smile: "Thank you."

Looking at Thales, the man chuckled, "Don't worry, Wyman, we've kept your things safe. They're in our bags—a certain unscrupulous merchant was eager to steal your purse and crossbow, but we stopped him."

Dean gestured toward another campfire, where a rustic-looking man was fiercely haggling with someone.

Thales hesitated for a moment, then nodded.

"thank you all."

"You saved my life, I will repay you."

"I swear I will."

Quickstrip's face lit up with joy: "Ah, I knew you were a good friend, Wyman, I'm with Risso..."

Old Hammer stuffed bread back into his mouth.

"But where are you going?"

Thales took a bite of his bread, observing the expressions on their faces, his wariness still lingering: "In fact, can I hire you?"

The mercenaries exchanged glances.

The prince tentatively said, "I mean, I have some relatives in the Star Kingdom, and they are very wealthy..."

The mercenaries exchanged glances again, and this time, Thales saw worry in their eyes.

Only the quick rope's expression changed, and it stammered in surprise inside the bread.

McKee, expressionless, reached out and stuffed the bread into his mouth even tighter.

"Stars?" The man with black markings hummed softly.

Louisa raised an eyebrow and smiled. "You know, Wyman, we've already taken on a job to deliver this caravan to..."

But when bald Dean gently raised his hand, Louisa immediately stopped talking.

Thales noticed this detail.

Dean sighed and looked at Thales with a calm and shrewd expression.

“Listen, Wyman, I can see you have concerns.”

He was straightforward: "Don't worry, we won't touch your belongings or endanger your life."

Thales felt a chill run down his spine.

“This is a vast desert, so I won’t ask about your surname or origins, including how you made enemies. We’re not interested in those things, and they can’t track you here—saving you is simply our duty in the desert,” Dean stroked his stubble.
"So you can rest assured."

Thales frowned slightly.

Dean's words clearly carried considerable weight within the team; once he spoke, even McGee, who was quite hostile towards him, stopped saying anything.

With only a quick rope, he managed to pull the bread out, then raised his hand with a mournful face:

"And what about our compensation?"

No one cares about him.

“I just want to clarify a few other things,” Dean said seriously. “Wyatt, you came from the north.”

Thales was somewhat confused and nervous:
"right?"

Dean pondered for a moment, pressing his fingers on his knee, while the others patiently awaited his question.

"And you haven't encountered any Star Army along the way?"

Thales frowned.

"No."

Dean's expression shifted slightly: "Exter and Stardust... didn't fight in the desert?"

“No,” Thales said calmly. “At least I didn’t see it.”

"Didn't you encounter any sand bandits?"

"No."

Upon hearing this, everyone seemed to breathe a sigh of relief.

“Looks like the road ahead is clear,” Louisa said happily. “Guys, we’re lucky—we’re on the right track.”

Quick Rope chuckled and exchanged a punch with Old Hammer, but was pushed off balance by the latter's powerful push.

Thales looked at them with a puzzled expression, somewhat confused.

But Dean seemed very cautious, and he continued, "But you... didn't encounter any tribes gathered in the oasis either?"

"I didn't see many oases, nor any tribes."

"Didn't you encounter any trace of the exiles?"

What is an exile?

"Didn't encounter any Greyhounds? I mean Orcs."

"No, I was the only one from beginning to end."

Dean remained silent in the face of Thales' question.

“Strange, the desert shouldn’t be this peaceful,” Dean murmured. “I need to go and discuss this with Tomding again…”

"What's wrong?" Louisa asked with concern.

Dean shook his head: "It's nothing, I hope it's just me worrying unnecessarily."

He seemed to have finally finished asking his questions and nodded to the others.

"So, can you... send me to the stars?" The prince looked at Dean, knowing that he was the backbone of the group: "Not too far, just to the Western Wilderness, to the Blade Fang Dunes."

"As I said, I have relatives there..."

The others laughed.

“What bad luck, poor Wyman,” Old Hammer smiled slightly. “We just came out of the Fang Dunes a few days ago, which is the territory of the Stars.”

"Obviously, we won't be going back so soon."

Thales' heart sank: "Even if... I promised you a considerable reward? The Caso family can..."

Dean shook his head.

This time, it was Louisa who answered Thales.

The female captain sighed, “You’ll have to talk to Tom Ding. He’s our employer, and this is his caravan. I guarantee he won’t agree, no matter how much money—just like we did.”

"why?"

“Well, let me put it this way,” the female captain shrugged, tilted her head, and looked around, “the day before we set off, StarCraft issued a decree at Blade Fang Camp: for one month, no one is allowed to enter the Great Desert.”

Thales was taken aback.

The ban on stars.

So that's...

Louisa shook her head: "Obviously, they're going to send troops into the desert to fight, whoever they want to fight—like the desert war ten years ago, and the occasional clearing campaigns that have followed."

“Anyone?” Thales pondered the words. “But you still got in?”

“Yes,” Louisa coughed, “and do you know why?”

Thales looked at him with a puzzled expression.

"Business, Wyman, business!" Quick Rope answered eagerly, his eyebrows dancing with excitement.
"Sepp Tomdin, that damned profiteer is trying to sneak a quick buck in the desert while the ban is in effect—the blocked trade routes mean higher prices for goods and more lucrative long-distance business!"

McGee, who had been silent, looked up: "There are even greater risks."

Thales squinted, puzzled.

Dean sighed and explained, "I know you're eager to see your family and escape this threat, Wyman, but..."

The bald man stroked his stubble and sighed:
“Once we encounter the Star Army, Tomdin will no longer be able to keep his goods, and he himself will go to jail. As for us, ‘Dant’s Greatsword’ who were hired by him, we will be fined a lot if we are lucky, and if we are unlucky, we will be kicked out of the Baki camp and never be able to do business there again, or do business related to that place.”

Thales couldn't help but frown.

and so……

“So,” Dean said calmly, “do you think we—whether it’s our employers or our team—would be willing to return to the Stars, or even deal with the Stars’ officials, before the ban is lifted?”

Thales understood, and he sighed.

"Then...where are you going?"

Dean and Louisa exchanged a glance.

A second later, Dean lowered his head and smiled:
"Now, apart from the increasingly tense Freedom Alliance and Qiyuan City, there is only one place left, which is the place where a caravan that sets off from the stars and ventures across the desert can make the most profit."

"The Tower of the End".

(End of this chapter)