Kingdom Bloodline

Chapter 386 Prince vs. Prince

Moonlight pierced through the window, which was only sealed with a few wooden strips, illuminating the image of the mercenary in his thirties before Thales: unshaven, with a calm gaze, relaxed posture, and a cold smile on his lips.

His leather armor was tightly fastened to his upper body, never removed even when he slept. It was worn and mottled, showing the marks of years of hardship he had endured while traveling with his master. Various tools carried by mercenaries were strapped to the armor: knives, scissors, bandages, hemostatic powder, ropes, flint, and tinder...

How has he managed all these years?
From princes to...

Thales gazed at him quietly, at this man who looked experienced and had a rugged appearance.

"So it really was you?"

"Your Highness Moral?"

he asked calmly.

silence.

Still silent.

The man in front of them did not move.

It was as if this were just a dream.

In the realm of hellish senses, this dusty, poorly furnished hut appeared desolate and lifeless. Only the sound of breathing coming from across the wall reminded Thales that everything before him was indeed happening.

"Although I heard from Grand Duke Pefit—or rather, the former Grand Duke Pefit—a long time ago that you wanted to be a mercenary..."

Thales spoke quietly, "But I really didn't expect this..."

Dean interrupted him.

“Moral Walton,” the bald mercenary said, shaking his head slightly, his expression unchanged. “That name hasn’t been heard in a long time.”

"Its owner died in an assassination six years ago."

Why are you so fixated on someone who is already dead?

Thales took a deep breath.

“The Blackpath,” the prince said softly, “how does it taste there?”

"What?" Dean frowned.

Thales smiled.

The extraordinary experience of escaping Dragon City from the Shield District came flooding back.

The wheelchair-bound veteran who says one thing but means another, the cryptic old crow, the carefree tailor Kex, and the cunning coachman Kevin.

This made him reflect: "Back in Dragonsreach, I overheard Grevo talking about how, six years ago, they also took on a job leading people through the Black Path. The employer was very generous: a reward of three hundred gold coins."

Dean's expression slowly turned serious.

“Three hundred, that’s no small sum,” Thales sighed. “Just for a trip to Dragon Sky City?”

Dean didn't say anything.

“But here’s the problem,” Thales continued in the dimly lit room:

“A person who can produce three hundred gold coins in the blink of an eye must be powerful, influential, and wealthy. There aren’t many people like that in Dragon Sky City, but you can count a few: big merchants from Cornmas, bureaucratic nobles from the Axe or Spear districts, lords with wealthy fiefs, and even Urad, the former Order Officer who monopolized the black market.”

"But such a person, no matter who he offends in Dragon Sky City, would surely have many ways to leave the city to seek refuge. Why choose the most expensive, most difficult, farthest, and most troublesome one?"

Thales stared intently at Dean, sensing in the darkness that the other's breathing had become slightly uneven.

“Unless,” Thales took a deep breath:

"Unless this person has offended, or is facing, the supreme power in Dragon Sky City."

Dean slowly lowered his legs onto the bed and looked at him solemnly.

"Faced with King Nuen's pursuit and the eyes and ears of the entire city, all his power and influence were insignificant, and all channels were blocked. He could only go to the area where commoners and the poor gathered, to find that local tyrant: that stubborn and rude, lame old soldier who was known to dislike King Nuen, and take a secret passage that ordinary people could not even imagine to leave the city."

Thales's gaze at Dean grew increasingly sharp: "And six years ago, who was this extraordinary person who warranted the entire Dragon Sky City's all-out pursuit?"

Dean's lips curved into a faint smile.

“Blackpath, Griveo,” the mercenary chewed on the words, “I see.”

"So, you also escaped through that veteran's route?"

He looked back at Thales: "It also mobilized the entire western front, perhaps the entire western wilderness, to enter the desert to cooperate with you?"

Thales did not answer him; the prince's expression at that moment was particularly difficult to decipher.

"So, you've been hiding in this mercenary group all this time?"

"You gave up everything, abandoned everything, including your father, your bloodline, your... to come here and become an ordinary mercenary?"

"why?"

At that moment, Thales looked into Dean's eyes, but what appeared before him was King Chaman in the carriage.

Walking away is not escaping, and weak escapism is not liberation.

But he will.

[After we found him.]

Dean was silent for a few seconds.

“I do what I do best, that’s all,” Dean sneered, shaking his head. “Just like you.”

Thales let out a heavy sigh and frowned, saying, "Moral, are you aware of your current situation?"

“Moral is dead, that’s all I know,” Dean replied coldly. “And whoever tells you he’s not dead…”

Thales raised his voice to interrupt him.

"If Moral were dead, there wouldn't be so much trouble!"

The prince said solemnly, "But if he were still alive, even for just one more day, he would still be the heir of King Nuen, the first successor of Dragonsreach City and the Walton bloodline. His existence, and even his possible return, would be a powerful challenge to the ownership of Dragonsreach City."

"Do you know what this means?"

The mercenary's chest began to heave.

He lowered his head and said calmly, "Let me guess, some people don't like this fact, nor do they like the implications behind it, right?"

Thales chuckled softly.

Dean looked up, his eyes clear: "So, is she the newly appointed Grand Duchess of Dragonsky City? I heard you have a good relationship with her."

Thales's gaze froze.

"Or is it Lisbon, where the actual government is in power and holds absolute authority?"

Dean spoke slowly and deliberately, his tone icy: "Or perhaps... the new king who hates the Walton family to the core?"

Thales sighed slowly.

“Perhaps all of them,” the boy said earnestly.
“Your niece, Selma Alex Walton, will have her position shaken by your presence; and your cousin, Chaman Lumba, does not want to see a strong male heir take over Dragonstreet.”

"You are a threat."

Dean froze.

“So, indeed, someone knows that Moral is still alive,” the mercenary said slowly. “You, Thales Star, no matter who you cooperate with, you are here to kill me or capture me to eliminate the threat.”

Everything around seemed to freeze.

In the dim light, only two pairs of equally sharp eyes remained, one blue and one gray, silently gazing at each other.

Dean's eyes were a little lighter than those of King Nunn in his memory, lacking that inexplicable pressure, but carrying a strange meaning, like an owl lurking in the darkness, causing Thales to frown.

“That’s right, killing you will eliminate all future threats,” Thales said softly.
"By capturing you, we can gain an excellent pawn to use as a bargaining chip in future games with Exter."

The temperature between the two seemed to drop below freezing instantly.

Until Dean slowly spoke up.

“Then what are you waiting for?” A rare fierce look appeared on the mercenary’s face as he touched the handle of his axe. “You have the entire camp as your backing.”

"His Royal Highness Prince."

The deathly silence in the room reached a new level.

Even in the hellish senses, the sound of Quick Rope's deep sleep and breathing next door seemed to diminish.

But the deathly silence lasted only a few seconds.

In the dimly lit room, Thales closed his eyes and sighed softly.

He slowly backed away until he was against the wall.

JC, still in his sheath, was pressing against his lower back, causing Thales to grit his teeth in silence.

"Do not."

He spoke with difficulty.

But the moment he opened his mouth, Thales felt as if a heavy stone had been lifted from his heart.

"Whatever your reasons for leaving, and whatever your reasons for returning, Moral."

Prince Star silently opened his eyes: "Let's go."

Moral, the bald mercenary, was slightly taken aback.

"Go, Moral, disappear from our sight and never come back."

Thales said calmly.

Morar stared at him for a long time, his gaze fixed, without uttering a word.

After a long while, the mercenaries from the north slowly lowered their heads.

"why."

His voice became low and hoarse, and when it rang out in the darkness, it reminded Thales of the former Grand Duke of the Black Sands.

Charman Rumba, who had not yet become the King of Exter, but had already experienced many vicissitudes.

“A few days ago, you had the opportunity to return to your loyal army and order them to arrest me, but you didn’t.”

“You had a chance to strike, but you turned and left,” Moral said, enunciating each word clearly. “Now you have a chance to capture me, but you’re letting me go?”

"why?"

His voice became urgent.

Thales leaned against the wall, slowly withdrawing from the rather uncomfortable, hellish sensations.

He scoffed softly.

"Because...maybe because you saved my life?"

Thales curled the corners of his mouth, a slight melancholy in his heart: "And I repay kindness."

Morar slowly shook his head.

“Don’t make me laugh,” he said, raising his gaze to look directly at Thales. “In the game of thrones, a life-saving favor is nothing.” “You must have another reason.”

"must."

Thales frowned, startled.

"why?"

The boy murmured, "Why do you care so much?"

Moral raised his eyebrows, his expression rather cold in the moonlight.

“Since you abandoned the entire Dragoncity six years ago without a second thought,” Thales continued, “why should you care about my reasons six years later?”

Morar remained silent for a moment.

"To disregard everything and simply leave, is that it?"

He smiled wryly: "Is this how everyone who knows Moral is still alive views him?"

"How... pathetic."

Moral murmured.

Thales did not speak immediately; he observed the other man, taking in the former Prince Exter's expressions and reactions.

But Moral then turned his gaze back to Thales: "But you still haven't explained why you let me go."

Thales pursed his lips.

This guy……

"Six years ago, I went to Exter because of your 'death,' Moral."

"I know everything about you."

He sighed softly: "I know you learned martial arts from Nikolai and watched King Nunn's skills in Valhalla. I know you were friends with the former Conkley Peffert, and I know you were tired of political struggles and dreamed of becoming a mercenary since you were a child."

Upon hearing this, Moral remained expressionless.

But Thales felt inexplicably uneasy.

But the arrow was already on the bowstring and had to be released. He suppressed his unease and continued, "I even know that you have a lover of low status, perhaps a woman who works in the sex trade. I also know that King Nuen is extremely dissatisfied with her, and you two had a big fight about it—just before you were scheduled to go south on your mission."

Morar raised his eyebrows.

“But I didn’t ask you why you abandoned your status as a prince and ran away from home,” Thales stared at him intently. “Why do you need to ask me why I let you go?”

“Just go,” Thales said in a deep voice. “Isn’t it better to live freely out there?”

Morar remained silent for a long time.

The way he looked at Thales made the latter quite uncomfortable.

“My identity has been exposed,” the bald mercenary with a mysterious background finally spoke slowly, “and someone knows that Moral is still alive.”

"So I need to know why you are following me."

“If you are truly a friend of that Grand Duchess, then you have no reason to let me go—unless this is the next trap.”

His eyes were piercing, and he was extremely vigilant.

A faint unease welled up in Thales' heart, and he frowned and sighed again.

The prince, who had been wandering for six years, was now alone in a foreign land...

"Because of Rumba."

Thales finally made up his mind. He nodded and said, "Killing you will rid Rumba of a major threat, and he can continue his rule without restraint."

“But I don’t want him to live too peacefully: we are enemies.”

Thales gazed at Moral:
"Letting him know you're still alive will help that arrogant, patricidal king to restrain himself and maintain a sense of caution and propriety."

"It will also help keep his clutches away from Dragon City—as you said, Selma is my friend."

"That's it."

"Is it enough?"

Moral's eyes changed.

He lowered his head, seemed to understand, and slowly nodded.

"So, it is Rumba, our dear new king."

"He was the one who knew Moral was still alive."

Moral seemed to fall into deep thought: "And he told you that he hopes you can help him, help him go deep into the territory of the stars, and completely eliminate me."

"That says a lot—but how did he know that?"

Thales frowned again.

"None of that matters anymore."

A sense of impatience welled up inside him, and he gritted his teeth and said, "Now, let's go."

"Disappear."

"Before I change my mind."

The next second, Moral abruptly raised his head.

“And what about you, Your Highness?” Moral’s expression was serious, his eyes gleaming with a sharp light: “After you let me go?”

"You will return to the garrison commander's location in the camp, find your army and soldiers, and even the secret service..."

He tentatively asked, "And then come and arrest me?"

Thales sighed helplessly to himself.

Why does this guy talk so much?

They are also suspicious and prone to overthinking.

He really shouldn't have become a mercenary.

He'd be a good candidate to be a spy.

The boy had to be serious and said, "I told you I would let you go, and I will let you go."

"Not to mention Baki Camp, even the Secret Service won't know you exist."

Thales stepped forward, walked up to Moral, and said in the most serious tone, "And I will keep my promise, Thales the Star's promise, the promise of the Second Prince of the Stars."

“You are the son of the late King Nuen, and you are also a man of the North. You know how much weight these words carry for us.”

Moral stared at him for a long time.

He shook his head and said slowly, "So you will still go to them and return to the embrace of the stars."

Thales frowned slightly.

He sensed something was amiss.

Morar looked up and smiled in the moonlight.

“I find you to be quite different, Thales.”

"Especially compared to other people."

He said softly, "Exceptionally different."

Thales was stunned.

Moralta...

Moral narrowed his eyes: "For example... compared to your reputation, you are exceptionally naive."

"And he was also exceptionally self-righteous."

Thales was taken aback.

But the next moment, Moral put his legs down from the bed and stood up.

"Okay, I'm leaving."

“In any case, Your Highness,” he looked down at Thales and extended his palm, “thank you.”

The two princes looked at each other.

a long time.

Moral's eyes held a shrewdness and amusement, while Thales' gaze was full of seriousness and earnestness.

Finally, Thales smiled.

The boy raised his eyebrows and nodded, extending his palm to grasp Moral's hand.

“No, we’re even,” Thales said, accepting the thanks and sighing, “You saved me in the desert…”

But the next moment-

boom!
Thales felt a sharp pain in his arm and fell onto the bed!

Sensing danger, Thales, a seasoned veteran, gritted his teeth in shock!
He instantly entered a state of hellish sensory experience.

Moral moved with lightning speed, grabbing the prince's right arm and pulling him behind him in an instant!
It looks like they're going to completely tie his hands behind his back, force Thales down to his knees, and pin him firmly to the bed!
Enraged, Thales invoked the sins of the River of Hell, his right arm bracing against Moral's strength as he broke free from his grip.

boom!
Thales' back slammed hard against the bed.

In his haste, the prince reached out to pull out JC.

But Moral was faster than him.

Suddenly, a small knife appeared in Moral's left hand, pressed against Thales' throat.

"Just by moving a single finger, Your Highness Thales..."

Moral's expression at that moment was cold and terrifying.

He pinned Thales firmly to the bed, tightening his grip and threatening in a cold voice:

"Your blood will be like those orcs..."

"Irrigate the earth."

----

[P.S. Don't listen to the author of "The Trails of the Marvel Universe" talking nonsense. We haven't been playing WoW or doing dungeons lately. We've been teaming up with Huo Zhi Gao Xing, the author of "The Warlock of the Marvel Universe," for quests. By the way, they're all on Varian in the third region, while I'm on another server you can't find. Anyway, I'm almost done with the Darkshore quests.]

Today, my editor told me very seriously:

Wu Jian, your chapters are too long, and the update intervals are too long. It's hard to survive in the competitive online novel market like this. You can't even manage to break up a chapter; how dare you call yourself a Qidian author? Our Qidian chapter-breaking class doesn't have a student like you! Starting today, you have a mandatory task: break up your six- or seven-thousand-word chapters into two or three chapters and update them!

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(End of this chapter)