Kingdom Bloodline

Chapter 39 The Final Battle (Part 1)

3pm.

"What's wrong?" In the study, Thales put down the quill pen he was using to copy the modern alphabet, waved his hand impatiently, and looked at Gilbert, who had been staring at him for an hour.

"Excuse my bluntness, Mr. Thales," Gilbert said with a gentle smile, "if you hadn't become a wealthy businessman, you might have been a natural diplomat."

"I should have just told him that I played hide-and-seek with that little girl in the room for half an hour," Thales thought dejectedly, crossing out the crooked "S" he had written.

Thales was very displeased. The reason was that after negotiating with Serena, Thales recalled the Grand Duchess's flexible and changeable face, which alternated between coldness and warmth, and he felt uneasy.

So, just now, Thales had Gilbert analyze the situation for him.

Simply put—Taylor was tricked.

It seemed Serena had conceded on the issue of blood, but this was the Hall of Mindis. Neither Gilbert, Yodl, Ginny, nor even his unreliable father, His Majesty, would stand idly by and watch him have half a pint of blood drawn every day. In other words:
One-eighth of a pint per month is exactly the amount the other party expected!
So Serena essentially made no concessions whatsoever—in exchange for a vague promise from Thales!

Help her reclaim the throne?

Thiels was dismayed to find that he was the loser in this negotiation.

“Businessman, diplomat—I have a feeling you’re secretly laughing at me.” Thales lowered his head, opened another page of the “Cahill Leaf Poetry Collection” that Gilbert had given him, and copied down the sentences, recognizing the words and their usage.

As night approaches and dawn breaks, the holy sun shines brightly over the nine realms.

The land is about to collapse, the sea is about to overturn, and evil forces are gathering power to darken the sky.

After copying down this line of poetry, which had an Eastern style reminiscent of dawn and dusk, Thales pouted and tried hard to understand its meaning.

Gilbert was particularly worried about his shallow cultural foundation, so he specially devised a huge and massive language and literacy improvement plan - you know, it is perfectly normal for a street thug to not know any words except his own name and the numbers on his money.

However, after arriving in this world, Thales had been paying close attention to the text around him. With his fluency in the language and his brain seemingly having expanded its memory, it only took him a little over an hour to master the recognition and writing of basic letters before he was able to easily move on to spelling words and copying long sentences.

The speed was so fast that even Gilbert was amazed, which can only be attributed once again to the superior bloodline of the Starry Sky royal family.

Thales rolled his eyes at this.

“No, your response was quite good.” Gilbert walked to his side and watched him copy down the complete ancient poem. “I had someone check the information and intelligence of the Night Kingdom. Compared to her skillful sister, Serena Corleone, although not well-known, is indeed of the Nightwing King’s bloodline. She appeared before the Third Continental War and is likely over four hundred years old.”

"Although you are living under someone else's roof and in a state of destitution, she sent Istron to actively pressure you to choose between the loyalty of your subordinates and the power of your allies, shaking your popularity and reminding you that you are not yet the heir, in order to undermine your confidence and self-assurance. Both of these things fully demonstrate the cunning and shrewdness of a long-time vampire grand duke - or the shrewdness of that extreme steward."

"Fortunately, you did not let her succeed in this matter. Instead, you forced her to resort to almost cheating to gain leverage."

"She really is an old hag," Thales thought to himself, and continued copying.

Gods descended to earth, the River of Hell surged, blood spread across the desolate land, and armies marched back from the snow-capped mountains.

Heroes raise their flags, kings wield their spears, empires have fallen, the world is dark, and the people are filled with despair, with nowhere to turn.

"What kind of rubbish is this?" Thales frowned as he read the descriptive sentence, replying absentmindedly, "So you're just going to watch me get bullied by them?"

Gilbert said nothing, but simply watched Thales quietly.

and many more.

Thales paused suddenly, as if he had thought of something.

His highly efficient brain began to automatically collect every factor and synthesize them into a segment.

One's own identity.

Serena's identity.

The promise to reclaim the throne.

A covenant between them.

Gilbert remained unmoved.

Serena also said: I also want to work hard to become the heir and ascend the throne!

“Gilbert,” Thales said, his eyebrows furrowed and his mouth agape as he stared incredulously at the former foreign minister, “It’s you?”

The former foreign minister parted his lips slightly, his mustache curving into an elegant arc.

“Oh right, I remember,” Thales exhaled, realizing, “last night, you were the one who told them my identity!”

“You’re not angry at their arrogant attitude, nor are you ashamed that my status is being looked down upon,” Thales propped himself up at his desk, his eyes filled with suspicion. “This is a plan you’ve been preparing all along!”

Gilbert remained noncommittal, only giving a rare, playful shrug.

This immediately confirmed Thales's suspicions.

It was indeed Gilbert's plan!
Grass!
"You deliberately revealed my identity because you're guessing that they'll see this as an opportunity to negotiate with the heir to the kingdom when he's still down on his luck, to solidify or strengthen the alliance in exchange for my promises after I ascend to the throne—it may take a long time, but they are, after all, immortal vampires, they can afford to wait!"

Damn it! Thales cursed Serena under his breath. That old hag, she clearly had a plan in mind, but she still pretended to be eager to recover her strength and couldn't wait to return to the Eastern Continent to kill everyone!
"You old bastard! You witch!" Thales thought bitterly.

“I think you must have a reason why you have to do this?” Thales composed himself and frowned.

In his line of sight, Gilbert raised his hat and bowed.

“We and Corleone distrust each other and are suspicious of one another, yet we live under the same roof in the name of cooperation. Even on our own territory, this is far too dangerous.” “As for blood? Safety?” Gilbert chuckled and said quietly, “I have never believed that cooperation can be guaranteed by these unreliable things—we and Corleone could turn against each other at any time and endanger ourselves.”

“But things are different now. You have become the heir and she has reclaimed the throne; the two are now intertwined. For you to help her, she must first help you.”

"Seemingly unexpectedly, you have gained a more solid support in the present by promising a future king." Gilbert smiled mysteriously: "Using the bond of interests to win over allies, that is the essence of politics."

"And help her reset?" Thales narrowed his eyes.

Gilbert exhaled, a sly glint in his eyes: "How can you restore her to her rightful place if you don't become king first?"

"As for what you said, watching you get bullied by them?"

"It is my duty to share your burdens."

“However, the responsibility of training you into a qualified successor is just as important to me as protecting you from any harm.” Gilbert smiled and said, “Serena Corleone is just a down-on-his-luck foreign dignitary, while you will be the future of the Star Kingdom. I think this is a small test.”

A quiz? Thales lowered his head and rolled his eyes again.

“Since you have this idea, why not just go to them and propose an alliance?” Thales replied curtly, still unwilling to give up.

“My little sir,” Gilbert winked, “diplomatic negotiations are like a sword fight; the one who strikes first gains the upper hand…”

"...but it also exposed their movements and whereabouts, so it couldn't be better for us to propose an alliance."

"I'll just watch you show off quietly," the boy thought resentfully, shaking his head.

Thales muttered unhappily, "They even scheme against their own people. What despicable diplomats and politicians."

“Alright,” Gilbert simply squinted, smiled, lowered his head, glanced at his pocket watch, and said, “After copying these incomprehensible collections of poems for so long, I think you must be tired.”

Thales put down his pen.

“Let’s take a break. Since we’ve come up with politics and diplomacy, let’s take this opportunity to have a history lesson,” Gilbert said with a smile.

“Alliance is sometimes formed based on more than just visible interests.” Gilbert, sitting on his expensive sofa, adjusted his hat.
"There is still an urgent crisis."

"And shared beliefs."

Thales put down his pen and began to listen attentively to Gilbert's words.

"This is also about how a group of distrustful, disorganized humans and various races became the most loyal allies." Gilbert's eyes gleamed.

Thales suddenly realized that Gilbert had become somewhat serious.

"This is the story of the war that took place more than six hundred years ago, as described in the book 'The Poems of Cahill'."

However, Count Casal's next words made Thales' eyes widen in astonishment:

"That brutal, dark, bloody, terrifying, and earth-shattering epic battle."

"The final battle".

------------------

In the deep, dark chamber, an old, hoarse voice drifted out from the distance.

"So, the powerful and influential families have made a move?"

“Yes, my dear teacher,” a cynical voice lazily rang out, “They are at least super-level experts, and there are quite a few extreme level experts. They set off from various strange places and gathered around the various county towns in the north—they all have one thing in common: when investigated, they have absolutely no connection with the nobles and lords.”

"Can you provide the exact date?" the aged voice asked indifferently.

“I’m afraid that’s difficult—” the light and cheerful voice replied. “Even the members of the Exte mission themselves haven’t finalized their exact itinerary. So, should we assign people to investigate and inform the King?”

After a long pause, a hoarse, aged voice finally answered decisively:

"No, your focus should still be on that doctor from the Black Street Brotherhood. I want all resources directed towards him. Don't underestimate Lancer; after all, he comes from here and knows our methods well."

"Investigate the whereabouts of all the underworld bosses, especially the three major assassins! Black Sword, Hell Scythe, and Reverse Curved Blade—finding them will be too difficult, but at least we need to confirm they're not nearby! I don't think Black Sword would be foolish enough to protect a mage!"

"Furthermore, even if everything goes smoothly, we should not let our guard down. After all, we have not fought against mages for more than a hundred years, and records and manuals are ultimately just for reference."

a long time.

"Well—alright," the young voice said after a moment, neither confirming nor denying, "Speaking of which, are you really not leaving any survivors?"

"That's—a living, breathing mage!"

In the darkness, there was a sudden sound of someone sitting up from a chair.

“No need,” a hoarse, aged voice followed.
"Let what has long since vanished be buried completely with the final battle."

The book page was "out of service" on Qidian for three days, but today I suddenly found that the page is back online. Great, I, Hu Hansan, am back.

Just signed a contract, please add to your favorites, recommend, and share!
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(End of this chapter)