Kingdom Bloodline

Chapter 42 Midil Shining Star

That evening, under Ginny's piercing gaze and merciless reprimands, Thales managed to finish a dinner with strict rules, which was also a tedious but unavoidable etiquette lesson—after all, etiquette, as a code of conduct, is also one of the standards for classifying social classes—and at least managed to use the knife and fork properly with trembling hands.

But Thales could sense the anger and dissatisfaction hidden in Ginny's beautiful eyes. He vaguely knew that it was related to the history of the stars that Gilbert had told him that afternoon.

As long as the stars remain, the empire will endure.

Even someone like Thales, who wasn't familiar with the founding legend of Tormund I, couldn't help but feel his heart race and his blood boil upon hearing this weighty oath.

Gilbert and the guards in the hall—whom Thales later learned were all descendants of the last remaining imperial army—were such representatives.

However, Thales keenly sensed Ginny's aversion to the phrase, and even the meaning behind it.

But he didn't dare ask.

He didn't know what the female official, who claimed to be his father's lover, really thought of him.

In the way Ginny looked at him, Thales had seen the fleeting disgust in her eyes, the forced reluctance she displayed, and the repeated hesitations she made when approaching him, but he never saw a genuine smile.

Therefore, the entire etiquette class was unusually dull.

Unexpectedly, Ginny, with her intense gaze, broke the silence first:

“You don’t like these rules and etiquette, do you?” Ginny suddenly said coldly as she watched Thales try to bend his wrist to avoid crossing the standard line for arm swing during a meal. “Your expression is worse than a horse that has just been harnessed.”

Thales was startled by the sudden question, and in his haste, he tried his best to answer politely, "Um, Ms. Ginny, I know these things are necessary, and I'm still trying to adapt..."

But his words were interrupted by Ginny.

“Of course you must learn these etiquettes,” she said coldly, her tone full of mocking disdain.

"But it's best not to become their prisoner... Walking, sitting, or lying down with a so-called noble posture doesn't mean you are really noble."

Similarly, bearing that glorious and proud history doesn't mean you are truly...

Ginny didn't continue, instinctively pausing to finish her sentence.

Thales felt a chill run down his spine.

It seems this lady has a different opinion on Gilbert's teachings.
“Ms. Ginny,” he tentatively began, “Gilbert’s history class this afternoon…you…you don’t seem to…you don’t…”

"Hmph, what a joke, that's their great and ancient kingdom... How could I dare to have any objections?" Ginny snorted, denying Thales's words, but the latter clearly read the mockery and sarcasm in the lady-in-waiting's eyes.

Thales stared intently at Ginny, at his father's lover.

“Ms. Ginny,” Thales said carefully and softly, “you weren’t your father’s lady-in-waiting from the beginning, were you?”

Ginny raised her eyebrows, and the beauty mark near her mouth trembled slightly.

“And you—you don’t like these etiquettes, these rules, you don’t even like them,” Thales hesitated for a moment, but after glancing at the knife and fork in his hand, he still asked, “Don’t you like this country?”

The words fell.

Ginny stared blankly at Thales.

This kid.

That's really sensitive.

Ginny turned her head and looked at the gold and silver nine-pointed star symbol above the fireplace in the study, remaining silent for a long time.

Just as Thales stuck out his tongue, thinking he had asked the wrong question, and was about to casually lower his head to continue his knife and fork battle, Ginny sighed, staring blankly at the knife and fork in Thales' hand, and softly spoke:
"I was born in Bakvi, a small coastal city in the eastern part of the kingdom. It's not a prosperous trading port, but it can be self-sufficient through fishing, making it a pretty good place in the world."

"The city lord is my father, and he is quite well-known in the eastern counties. He has always strictly trained us to abide by the rules and etiquette, to become ladies, hoping that one day our family can also become a prestigious family with a long history."

Thales's eyes narrowed, and he quickly took advantage of Ginny's inattention to secretly move his already stiff wrist.

"But I happen to be a disobedient and rebellious daughter, and I have hated these rules and etiquette since I was a child."

"So much so that at sixteen, nearing adulthood, I was still a wild girl who couldn't even dance a court ballroom dance, who ate rudely and spoke recklessly." Ginny smiled bitterly under the lamp, looking at the moon outside the window, her tone filled with longing:
"Of course, my father wouldn't let me do whatever I wanted—in short, that memory wasn't pleasant, things got a bit tense, and the family wanted to strip me of my identity and inheritance rights and send me to the temple to become a priest."

Thales stuck out his tongue out where no one could see him. He knew that priests in temples usually swore to remain unmarried and serve the gods for life.

Things have escalated to this point, and it's probably not as simple as just being "somewhat tense."

Ginny lowered her head slightly, her eyes dimming for a moment, but then she raised them again, revealing a pleasant smile.

"But at that moment, a prince came to visit our castle."

what?
Upon hearing this, Thales, who was flexing his wrists, stopped.

prince?

Is it going to be the kind of melodramatic plot I'm thinking of?
Ginny continued:
"He heard my story, but he just laughed it off."

"His Highness pardoned my crimes in public and promised that I would not have to follow the rules and etiquette that noble girls must follow. But the condition is that after I come of age, I must find a way to make a living independently outside of my status as a noble girl."

This is really melodramatic, isn't it?
But Thales also had some doubts in his heart—didn't the prince's actions and ideas seem a bit too advanced, how should I put it?

But Ginny seemed to be talking to herself, the corners of her mouth unconsciously turning up slightly, completely ignoring Thales' reaction.

"So I left my family's castle and followed the prince to the capital."

“From reading court reports to His Highness every day, to working as a hard-working warehouse clerk, to working as a copyist who earned one copper coin per page, to working as a secretary in the Guard Bureau, and then passing the exam to become a fifth-level guard officer… my life was completely changed because of him.”

Thales was taken aback. In his mind, Ginny was a typical court noblewoman, but he never imagined that she had such a colorful past.

“However, after many years of twists and turns, I eventually became a lady-in-waiting in the palace.” Ginny shook her head self-deprecatingly.

“Look at me—a disgraceful nobleman who despises etiquette and rules—now here, teaching the heir to the kingdom the very etiquette I once hated most.”

After Ginny finished speaking, her gaze returned directly to the dining table, staring at Thales—who had dropped his knife again.

Thales gave an awkward chuckle.

Asking a question that even I find a bit melodramatic:
"That kind prince, is Kay—my father?"

Your father?

Ginny's eyes blurred for a moment.

But Thales did not receive the answer he expected.

The palace lady turned her head slightly, her face displaying a complex and unfathomable depth.

“No, it wasn’t him,” Ginny said softly.
"I still remember the smile on His Highness's face when he pardoned me, a girl in shackles, covered in dirt, crying and making a scene."

"That warm, inclusive, and sunny smile. It's as if he's experiencing all the beauty in this world every moment, and nothing can move him, no matter how ugly or dirty it is."

“Your father, Kessel, was just a spoiled prince in the capital known for his arrogance and unbridled behavior, with a wicked smile that terrified ladies—not this reassuring smile.”

Thales looked at Ginny in surprise.

King Kessel – an arrogant, unrestrained, and dissolute prince?
He saw a flicker in Ginny's eyes, as if they held boundless gratitude and sighs, before she slowly uttered each word:

“That day, the eldest son of the late king came to our castle.”

“His Majesty Kessel’s elder brother, Midil Star, the former Crown Prince.”

"So, we assumed it was the Corleone family coming to help, fulfilling their promise, the so-called three experts," Duke Jann frowned, setting down a letter sealed with a black fang emblem, and crossed his arms beneath the tricolor irises:
"They were merely losers in a clan infighting."

"They used the Corleone family's name, our invitations, our ships, and our special passage privileges to exploit the Kevin Deer family like fools. They sailed across the End Sea, escaped the Hill of Pain, hid in Everstar City, lived in our manor for so long, and even took a lot of blood."

"Is that so?"

The two knights standing before his desk, Lord Cassien and Lord Seychelles, remained silent, their expressions complex as they looked at the middle-aged, bald man kneeling on the ground, his brow beaded with sweat.

Cassandra remembered that the bald, middle-aged man was a fellow member of the Tower of the End who had come to serve the Duke at the same time as him, working for the Tricolor Iris of Kevindir.

Unfortunately, the middle-aged man lacked the necessary skills and was seriously injured in a battle, leaving him only able to handle clerical affairs. Even so, the Duke still pitied his situation and entrusted him with the management of the voyage.

What was his name again? Cassandra tried to search his memory, but he couldn't remember.

"Yes...yes...they showed us the Holy Blood Emblem that only the direct descendants of Corleone possess, and that blond guy threatened us in a very hostile manner..." The kneeling middle-aged man, his head almost touching the ground, stammered as he explained.

"They also have that letter from you... your handwritten letter..."

“Alright,” Duke Jann sighed, rubbing his temples. Ashford, the butler beside him, immediately and tactfully poured him a glass of fine wine from the Duchy of Sera.

Jann forced a helpless smile: "This isn't your fault. Go now, and remember to be more careful next time."

The middle-aged bald man felt as if he had been granted a pardon, nodding repeatedly in apology. Only after being urged by Seychelles did he tremble as he left the study.

“He used to be a talent, but he’s useless now,” Jan said with a look of regret, raising his glass. “Send him back to the Eastern Continent immediately. Get rid of him on the high seas.”

"Don't take action on the border or within territorial waters. I don't want to commit murder."

Upon hearing this, Cassandra's heart stirred.

“Your Grace,” he said, unable to bear it any longer, “if you keep him, he will surely be even more devoted afterward…”

Cassandra did not notice the coded signal Seychelles was giving him from the side.

“I’ll let it slide with routine matters, but I don’t want anything to go wrong with these kinds of critical, secret matters,” Duke Jann sighed. “He made a mistake once, and now he has a grudge and a shadow in his heart. In particular, his doubts about the future will only deepen over time.”

“And he knew about our contact with Corleone, which was connected to that plan.”

"You all know how important that plan is."

Cassandra finally noticed the Seychelles's signal, so he lowered his head and remained silent.

“Next time we’ll send someone new,” Duke Jann said, taking a disappointed sip of his wine. “When Father was still alive, they weren’t nearly this lax in their work.”

Ashford calmly replied, "Loyalty and prudence both require time to develop."

Jan shook his head and sighed, "Unfortunately, what we lack most is time—that matter is within a month, and we can't get involved. We'd better hope nothing goes wrong."

Seychelles nodded slightly: "My lord, please rest assured, those mercenaries we have hired at such a great cost have more than enough opportunity to assassinate His Majesty."

Lord Cassien shuddered slightly, wondering why his colleague was so audacious in speaking out of turn.

Jann paused for a moment before turning his gaze to the Seychelles.

"Don't talk nonsense," the young duke said coldly.

Seychelles bowed its head in apology, but secretly sneered:

It seems the Duke has no complaints.

"You should set off now. Both the Cullen family and the Southrest family will send people. At this juncture, do not clash with them."

Jann's gaze was icy as he cautiously addressed Cassie and Seychelles, "Once those mercenaries have succeeded, you two should deal with the people who carried out the attack."

Cassandra was jolted awake. He looked up in disbelief: "My lord! Get rid of those people? Didn't we hire them under a different pretext? Some of them...some of them were my men in the Tower of the End—"

Jenn suddenly looked at him!

His gaze was sharp as a sword.

Cassandra's throat tightened, and the knight of the highest realm was unable to utter the rest of his words.

“Then persuade your friend to go back,” Jenn said calmly, but Ashford knew that this was a sign of his dissatisfaction: “Send someone who isn’t your friend.”

Seychelles yanked the back of Cassie's clothes, cutting off his words.

“As you wish, my lord.” The shrewd Seychelles nodded, pulled the ashen-faced Cassien along, and took his orders.

Jann slowly exhaled, calming himself down, and looked into the distance at the Duke's portrait.

"Cassian is getting old."

He said lightly.

"After this, send him back to Emerald City, or to his own territory."

Ashford remained calm and nodded slightly.

"As for the Corleone refugees, Ashford, you handle it personally, starting with the cavalry that suddenly stormed into the Wild Grass Manor that night," Jenn spilled the red wine from his glass, his eyes icy. "Contact the Corleone family—write directly to the Queen of the Night herself—tell Cortrina what happened here, and raise our bargaining chips as appropriate."

Ashford nodded: "As you wish."

"The probe at Mindis Hall, I recall, was handed over to the Blood Bottle Gang. Still haven't found Nekra?" Jenn narrowed his eyes, looking at Ashford.

“No, sir,” Ashford bowed slightly. “The Blood Bottle Gang is currently leaderless and in chaos. There are rumors that he has gone abroad to search for the Blood Mage.”

Blood Mage?

Jann closed his eyes tightly and exhaled through his nose.

His upbringing forced him to do everything in his power to swallow the uncouth but very real words he wanted to say.

"There's no other way. We'll just send our own men to take control of the Blood Bottle Gang." Duke Jann opened his eyes, his pupils devoid of emotion, and set down his wine glass.
"Within these two months, I will take control of all rumors and information circulating in the Blood Bottle Gang's territory, from commoners to soldiers, nobles to merchants."

Ashford nodded slightly.

“The messenger sent to Exter should be heading back by now. Let’s see if the Grand Duke of Black Sands is willing to seize this opportunity.” Jann leaned back in his comfortable recliner, his eyes narrowing.

Just wait, Father.

The tricolor iris will soon take another step forward.

If it goes well.

Let me tell you something.

Wu Jian has a bad habit: he likes to upload the chapters first, and then browse them carefully on the reader interface (this is more efficient; I can't see anything on the typing page at all), review and modify them, and sometimes even make major revisions.

So, dear readers, if you see an update, please check the time first. If it's an update within twenty minutes, then Wujian is most likely still revising it on his laptop. He'll make the final edits in the background later. Don't worry, wait a bit. Check again after half an hour; that will be the final version.

So at this time, all you need to do is smile.

Don't be impatient! What if you read a draft chapter and get poisoned by typos, terrible logic, and a lousy plot? Wouldn't that be Wujian's fault?

PS: I'm currently hesitant about several major plot points and would greatly appreciate feedback from readers.



(End of this chapter)