Kingdom Bloodline

Chapter 47 Disaster Is Coming
Yodl, Gilbert, and Ginny, who looked worried and kept glancing back, silently walked out of the banquet hall with different paces and different moods.

Under the ever-burning lights of the hall, only Thales, sitting in the main seat, and Morat, standing far behind the banquet table, remained.

silence.

But I was nervous.

Thales relaxed his shoulders as if to make it look easy, and put on a smile that he used to wear when he was a beggar.

But he could still feel the old man in black's predatory gaze fixed on him.

Thales sensed the eerie atmosphere before him, his mind filled with questions, while he clung tightly to the few pieces of information he had.

The head of the Kingdom's Secret Service.

Chief of intelligence.

The Black Prophet.

Viper.

They knew about my past as a beggar.

There's also Red Town Street and... the Magician.

“I won’t waste any more words, child,” Morat seemed to have lost his patience, abandoning his former tenderness, his hoarse voice extremely grating:
"I just want to know the night you escaped from Red Town Street."

"Everything the Qi Mage said to you when you met him."

How did he know that Ashida spoke to me?

Yodl, did he betray me?
Thales' brain started working frantically, but this time, there were just too many variables and information to process.

What exactly did Yodl say to him? How much did she say? What exactly did Morat know?
About Ashida, about the Blood Vial Gang, about... my magical powers "out of control"?
But in any case—Thales knew in his anxious heart: I must ensure my own safety first.

Since that night when Quaid came to the Sixth House in search of his hidden copper coins, he, Thales the beggar, or Thales the heir apparent, seemed to have become accustomed to drifting alone in the turbulent and uncontrollable tides of fate, struggling to survive.

"What?" Thales' face showed just the right amount of confusion, then he seamlessly realized, "Oh, a magic user! You mean, the legendary leaders of the Blood Vial Gang?"

Morat narrowed his eyes slightly, seemingly puzzled and hesitant.

Thales pretended to be recalling something, gently scratching his head: "That night, I remember everything was so chaotic, everywhere was... the Blood Vial Gang leader's words..."

But things didn't go as he expected.

"child!"

He was interrupted.

Morat leaned on his cane expressionlessly, and his voice reached Thales' ears.

“You have a talent for lying and acting. But I want to ask,” Morat’s eyes widened suddenly, his dark pupils shooting into Thales’s eyes, sending a chill down one’s spine, “your old friend—Aishida Sakorn!”

Thales was startled.

"I'll say it again."

"What did Ashida tell you before the Yordle appeared and sealed him away?"

Morat waited intently for his answer.

Thales, who had been interrupted, stopped abruptly and lowered his head.

What does he know?
Did he know I had met Ashida? Or did he see right through me?

Either way—the boy's heart pounded—was too bad.

This old man—Thales tried to calm himself down—is probably the toughest guy I've ever faced.

But since he asked, he probably doesn't know yet—Thales gritted his teeth and thought to himself—he doesn't know what Ashida told me.

In particular, I am in the same boat as Ashida.

But Morat's next words shattered his thoughts once again.

“Let me remind you again, child,” Morat laughed unpleasantly:
“Aishida has found a new mage, right?”

At that moment, Thales felt as if he had fallen into an ice cave!

Yodl… the boy wondered anxiously: What exactly did Yodl tell him?
Why was he so sure?
“Heh,” Morat chuckled eerily.

“People fear me for a reason.” The old man in black, leaning on his cane, walked step by step toward Thales.

For a moment, Thales even had the urge to run away.

“I am a superhuman—although I don’t like this superpower, it has really helped me a lot.”

A bad feeling flashed through Thales' mind.

"You no longer need to lie about the Qi Mage."

“I can see it clearly in your mind—Aishida, ah, that handsome young man in blue, my God, he’s still so young!”

Morat's words struck Thales' chest like a heavy hammer!

But Morat, still intrigued, continued, his words growing ever more chilling to Thales's heart.

"What's that in Aishida's hand, a blue ball?"

"Look at those three fleshy blobs, does he still enjoy squeezing human flesh so much?"

"Hmm, why is it pitch black all around? Where are you?"

Morat's face was full of relish, as if he were casually flipping through an interesting travelogue.

Thales, whose mind was blank, began to tremble involuntarily.

Blue clothes?

Pretty boy?
A blue ball?

Crushing human flesh?

Pitch black?
How did he know? How could he possibly know?
Thales even felt his breathing almost stop.

Morat seemed very tired. He lowered his head and rubbed the bridge of his nose: "Ah, this ability is really tiring to use. I can't use it often."

He then raised his head, grinned, revealing an ugly, wrinkled smile, and looked at the stunned Thales:
“That’s why everyone calls me 'The Black Prophet'.” Thales was too shocked to speak.

Morat gently parted his lips and uttered the most venomous words for the boy:

"Yes, kid."

"I can read people's minds."

At this moment, Thales truly realized that he was about to face a great calamity.

————————————————————

“What do we do now?” Standing on the second-floor corridor, Lady Ginny, a first-class court lady, looked at the two men in front of her with a bad expression. “You know Morat’s abilities and capabilities. He can use secrets, information, scandals, everything you can think of to control anyone he wants to control.”

“You’re just going to let that child go…” Ginny paced a few steps, then said bitterly, “He’s very smart, very mature, and has potential—but he’s the Black Prophet!”

"The all-knowing 'Black Prophet'!"

“I know his capabilities,” Gilbert said gravely. “Do you think the Fortress Peace Treaty could have been signed back then without the help of the Secret Service?”

"Then why are you letting him go—what is that bastard Kessel thinking!" Ginny slammed her hand on the second-floor railing in anger, the force of which dented a piece of the cedar wood railing.

At that moment, Gilbert frowned and suddenly turned around.

Sensing something amiss, Ginny turned her head in confusion.

In the vast corridor, apart from the motionless guards, there were only the two of them.

Sometime later, the Yordles had disappeared.

Again.

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

at the same time.

At the north gate of Yongxing City, the guards and city defense team finished their day's duty and were preparing to pull down the giant gate and close the magnificent inkstone city gate.

It was another peaceful day... The last shift of the city defense captain thought to himself, waving his hand and preparing for his shift change.

But the soldiers on guard at the city gate spotted several figures on horseback galloping toward the capital in the distance.

A white flag was behind them.

"Wait! Don't close the city gate yet!" the sentry shouted at the gate, his voice booming. "There's a fast horse! It must be a messenger!"

The captain climbed onto the city gate with a puzzled look, gazing at the cavalry unit in the distance.

It wasn't until the other party got close that the captain was surprised to see that what the other party was holding was a white flag with a flying eagle.

A white eagle flying?

The sentry post five miles away didn't stop them, so they must be important messengers, but...

The captain took a step forward, his face grim, and roared:

"The capital is ahead! Slow down immediately!"

"City defense team, intercept formation!"

At the city gate, dozens of city defense soldiers immediately shouted, drew their swords, formed shields like a wall, their starlight shimmering, and blocked the city gate, forming a battle formation in the direction the cavalry was advancing!
"Knight, slow down immediately! State your identities!" the captain shouted towards the outside of the city.

The knight below the city walls looked up, yet his speed remained undiminished. He raised a scroll and shouted anxiously:
"An urgent letter from Lord Val Arend, Lord of Coldhold and Duke of the North!"

Emergency Level: Level Seven!

"Present this directly to His Majesty!"

"No one is allowed to stop them!"

"His Excellency the Duke will arrive shortly!"

"This is the master's order!"

As he spoke, the knight raised his hand, and the scroll with the stone attached flew up to the city gate incredulously, where it was firmly grasped by the captain, who possessed super-class strength.

"He's a master, no wonder he's a knight of the North," the captain thought silently, feeling the force in his hand.

But after the captain removed the sealing wax, scanned it, and checked the signatures and marks on it, he nodded.

The captain strode up to the outer edge of the city gate and shouted to the formation below:

"Everyone, disperse! Let them pass immediately!"

"We are extremely grateful!" The knights below the city gate rushed past the soldiers who had made way for them, and under the astonished gazes of passersby, they whipped their mounts and galloped toward the center of the capital.

"Accelerate! Accelerate! Accelerate again!" The lead knight, his face contorted with madness, urged the entire group on without regard for the horse's strength!

The captain watched the departing knight, his face grim: "Don't close the gate yet. If what he said is true, we still have a Northern Guardian Duke to greet."

Emergency level, Level 7?
The most urgent report and letter I've received since taking office was probably the military report of His Majesty's great victory over the Bone People and Orcs with the allied forces. I remember it was a sixth-level report?
What is going on here?
He was filled with doubt.

The captain hesitated for a moment, but still turned around and asked his colleagues behind him:

"When was the last time you reported an emergency at level seven?"

The city defense team members looked at each other, their faces filled with doubt.

"Do we have a seventh level of emergency?" a young soldier even asked, scratching his head.

There was silence.

"Yes, the seventh grade."

A heavy voice came from inside, and the soldiers all turned to look at the old soldier at the very back.

The veteran's face was ashen, as if he were recalling some terrible past:

"Last time..."

He murmured, his lips pale:
"Twelve years ago."

(End of this chapter)