Kingdom Bloodline

Chapter 488 That Night

Cyril Falkenhausen.

Unpopular person.

Thales stared intently at the Duke of the Western Wilderness, at his increasingly frightening appearance six years later, with his wrinkles deepening and his hair thinning.

Six years of being a hostage had given Thales a slight sense of alienation from the people, things, and events of the Star Kingdom.

However, when this terrifying, almost demonic, noble duke reappeared before Thales, and his shrill, piercing voice echoed in the prince's ears once more, all the memories of the past returned in that instant.

The national conference in Yongxing City six years ago that determined the fate of Thales seems like it was just yesterday.

A chilly wind swept in from outside the tower, making Thales, who was only wearing a thin shirt and trousers, shiver.

"The desolate ruins are not close to here."

Thales tried to clear his mind and looked calmly at Falkenhaus.

calm.

This is Williams' territory, the territory of the Royal Guard. He can't possibly be hostile to me.

Think back to six years ago, what was Falkenhausen's stance when faced with the emergence of the second prince?
What is his personality like?
And that's why he appeared here...

Thales remained unfazed:
"So, what exactly makes someone of your esteemed status travel thousands of miles to this arduous, filthy, and chaotic border region?"

Falkenhaus let out a strange laugh, twirling his cane as he approached Thales, striking him repeatedly.

"Your Highness, you are truly new here and have no time to attend to such matters..."

The opponent's terrifying, withered face slowly magnified before his eyes, making Thales feel uneasy. He had to grip the dagger at his waist tightly and suppress the urge to retreat.

The Duke of the Western Wilderness stopped a foot away from the prince, close enough for Thales to see his withered skin, which looked like it was hanging on bones, with fine wrinkles.

"Or were you kept in the dark from beginning to end?"

To the prince's surprise, Cyril, without changing his expression, suddenly reached out and pulled the chair in front of the desk behind him, dragging it on the floor with a long, unpleasant scraping sound.

This made Thales frown.

"I guess your complete question should be..."

The Duke gave a forced smile and sat down comfortably in front of Thales' bed, gesturing vaguely towards the window behind him.

"The Western Wilderness lords, who were sound asleep in their camps, suffered a crushing defeat, losing all their armor and weapons, and in utter devastation, due to an unexpected surprise attack."

"When they lost everything—from command and logistics, from confidence and prestige, from on-field to off-field—they were utterly wiped out and left with nothing."

"When many lost both the means and the courage to continue guarding the Baki camp, they slunk away, preparing to return home."

"When the Winged One of Legends returns in glory with his royal standing army, trampling over the defeat of the local nobles, he retakes control of the Baki camp;"

Thales listened quietly to the other man's story, following his arm as he looked out at the buildings below the window:

Yesterday's attack and riot left scars on the camp; the burn marks on one of the forts were still visible. A group of soldiers cordoned off the area and stopped a wailing man, presumably the homeowner, who appeared to be directing the cleanup.

Across the street, another alley, unblocked by soldiers, remained bustling with people: merchants, herdsmen, mercenaries, thieves, beggars, and prostitutes, all noisy and busy as ever.

The distinctive bustling sounds of the Baki camp could be faintly heard, accompanied by the silver cross double star flag fluttering high above the camp gate.

Disaster and life, destruction and reconstruction.

It was as if nothing had happened.

It was just another day at Baki's camp.

Cyril Falkenhausen's shrill voice, true to his nickname, coupled with his deliberately forceful pauses, was unsettling:

"What you're asking is, under the above circumstances..."

Falkenhausen's smile was eerie:

"What exactly is it that would make someone as cunning and shrewd as me go to such lengths to come to the Baki Camp, which is of extraordinary significance and has a prince in charge?"

Really bad.

Cyril's unpredictable laughter and elusive tone, along with his irrelevant and evasive answers, combined with his powerful voice and appearance, gave Thales, who was used to the straightforward and loud voices of the northern people in Dragonstreet, a headache.

"Your Grace, I have heard of your losses and am deeply sorry."

Despite being interrupted from his meal, Thales mustered his strength and tried to think.

Baki's camp was attacked, and Williams won.

So, this is the current state of the camp.

That is to say, Duke Falkenhaus, the highest-ranking official in the entire Western Wilderness, barged into his bedroom rudely and aggressively, with the purpose of...

He pondered before speaking:
"I didn't expect it either; it was indeed an unfortunate day. Please convey my regret to your vassals. But now, I don't think Baron Williams would be pleased to see..."

But Falkenhausen interrupted him.

"I heard you enjoyed playing chess when you were in the North."

Thales was taken aback by the abrupt and nonsensical words.

Play chess?

The Duke, the Guardian of the Western Wilderness, smiled sinisterly:

"Do you know what I find most interesting about playing chess?"

Just as Thales was pondering how to politely end the conversation and safely see his guest off, Cyril suddenly jerked his left hand, the end of his cane striking heavily!

"Boom!"

The longsword strapped to the cane trembled slightly.

Before Thales realized that the other man was just looking for a place to prop up his cane, he had already subconsciously held his breath, bent down, and gripped the dagger at his waist.

Falkenhaus, who was supporting himself with his cane, seemed oblivious to Thales's alarmed expression.

Instead, his smile vanished, and he leaned forward, pressing his gaunt figure against the prince sitting on the bed.

"That means... there are no blind players in the game."

"Both sides in the game can see, see clearly, and understand every piece, every square, and every move."

Thales finally managed to catch his breath and began to ponder the other person's words.

Cyril, who had been staring at him, suddenly reached out and grabbed the plate on the desk.

The Duke steadily placed the lavishly laden plate on his lap, grabbed a grilled fish that looked heavily spiced with his bare hands, and took a big bite with his cleavage, disregarding both the usual dining etiquette and the fact that it was a prince's meal.

Thales frowned again upon seeing this.

"So let's stop pretending we can't see the chessboard—hmm, it tastes good, seems to be the batch the Lautten family presented to me for the 'Revival Festival,' caught in the Mu River."

Cyril chewed on the fish meat with bones in his mouth while nodding his head in a serious manner.

Stop pretending you can't see the chessboard...

Staring at the other party's incredibly lethal face, that unease, like a thorn in his back, crept back into Thales' heart once more.

"Your Grace, what exactly are you trying to say?"

The prince stopped being polite and perfunctory, and looked at the duke with a serious expression.

Cyril laughed, looking like an ugly face suddenly cracking.

As he chewed, he pointed at Thales, holding up the half-eaten grilled fish in his hand:

"In order to save a seemingly important guard."

Cyril looked out the window at the Baki camp, now a scene of chaos after a night of fighting, a rare chill creeping into his eyes:

"A chess player generously sacrificed a knight."

"But to everyone's surprise, that knight was the real killer: it rampaged through the ranks, eventually rising to the rank of prime minister, and devoured countless infantrymen, swordsmen, shield bearers, knights, and even catapults of the enemy."

Cyril stopped eating, his eyes revealing a dangerous glint:

“Teach me, Thales, in this game of chess, between the knight and the guard…”

"Whom do the chess players ultimately want to sacrifice, and whom do they want to save?"

Chess game.

chess player.

knight.

Guards.

Thales was in a real bind.

Accustomed to the rugged and ancient Valhalla, and used to the bold and unrestrained people of the North, Thales found the indirect, sarcastic, and unpleasantly sarcastic Duke of the Western Wilderness quite unsettling—in comparison, even the notoriously stingy and cunning Duke Trudida of the Reconstruction Tower paled in comparison.

The prince could only sigh, trying his best not to look at the grilled fish that had been bitten into pieces in the other person's hand:

"I'm sorry, I'm not very good at chess; it's just a hobby I do in my spare time."

Cyril let out a strange laugh, and waves of emotion rippled across his ugly, withered face:
"Ha, you don't care."

He leaned forward again, pointing at Thales with his left hand, his tone turning cold:

"But you should care."

Thales was baffled by the other party's sudden change in attitude.

Duke Kefalkenhaus then grabbed the grilled fish in his right hand and waved it in front of Thales.

"Just like you don't care about this fish, I don't care about this fish either."

"but……"

With Thales's expression turning pale, Cyril bit the fish head and tore it off the grill with a sizzling sound.

Thales looked at the grilled fish and felt a wave of unease.

Cyril chewed while coldly watching Thales, gently waving the headless grilled fish in his hand:

"It should still care about itself."

Thales looked grave.

He had faced many high-ranking opponents, many of whom possessed a unique aura—such as the imposing and aggressive Rumba, the taciturn and unapproachable King Kessel, and the unsettling Earl of Risbane with his deep-set eyes.

No matter where these people are, even if they are just sitting quietly in a corner of an indoor space, you can't possibly ignore their presence.

But Cyril Falkenhausen seemed to be an exception. He was emaciated and had a frightening appearance. His posture was almost sleazy. Even when he looked at people, he maintained a posture with his neck tilted forward and his eyes slightly squinted. His first impression was full of discomfort and awkwardness. His sharp and unpleasant voice made people frown and wish they could ignore him.

But as Cyril's movements change, his tone rises and falls, and his eyes wander, there will always be an unintentional moment when this withered old man will give you a sense of danger that is like a thorn in your back, making you shudder.

It's like combing through a pile of straw, constantly worrying that a hidden barb might prick your finger the next moment.

Like a horror movie that slowly builds up the atmosphere and emotions, gradually reaching its climax.

Such as now.

Thales tried to suppress the shadows in his heart and could only choose the method most familiar to the Northmen, getting straight to the point:

“Your Grace, I am very grateful for your visit, and I know that Falkenhausen has done a great deal of work in my journey home…”

"But believe me, I truly know nothing about the 'chess game' between you and Baron Baki regarding the camp. I was merely caught up in it by chance and had no power to do anything about it. As for the rest, I believe..."

Cyril's face turned cold.

"I still remember six years ago."

The Duke put down the grilled fish and stared intently at him, as if trying to pierce Thales' soul from his body.

"When you make outrageous remarks at a state conference, disregarding the expression of your 'cunning' teacher."

Thales had an idea.

Cyril's words slowly brought back memories for Thales:

“If a stubborn one-eyed man suppresses you, you should retort and bite back fiercely; if the iris boy ignores you, you should wait for the right moment and strike a fatal blow; if short-sighted nobles disrespect you, you should remember it in your heart and repay them a hundredfold.”

"He speaks sharply, uses harsh words, always confronts those in the right, and is unforgiving even when he is in the right."

The Duke of the Western Wilderness had an interesting expression when he said this, which seemed to be both a little appreciative and expectant, and a little amused as if he were watching a good show.

Thales recalled the scene at the National Assembly where he, as a child, confronted the princes, and also remembered what Gilbert had said to him later.

The prince sighed, with a hint of melancholy:

"I was just a child back then."

"If I have offended anyone, it was due to my youthful arrogance, ignorance, and fearlessness..."

Falkenhausen picked up the conversation, interrupting him sharply once again:

"Moreover, she is a pawn who refuses to be manipulated." At this moment, Cyril's eyes were exceptionally sharp:

"In order to break free from constraints, even when facing the endless stars high above, one dares to test the edge."

This statement was quite profound, and Thales paused in surprise.

At this point, Cyril turned his head and forcefully spat out the fish bone he had chewed.

The way he was straining didn't look like he was spitting out fish bones; it looked more like he was chopping a particularly difficult piece of firewood.

"I have to say, you were more to my liking back then, more..."

The Duke turned around, took out a handkerchief, wiped his mouth and hands, and gave a meaningful look:
"Be cuter."

Thales took a deep breath.

He vaguely understood the unspoken meaning behind the other person's words.

So he didn't want to listen anymore.

"But look at yourself now."

Cyril looked at him with a mocking gaze, sizing him up as if he were a prostitute serving drinks at a banquet:

"Gentle and polite, but hypocritical."

"Sheathe your blades, keep your fangs in your mouths, and hide your claws in your palms," the Duke of the Western Wilderness's shrill voice filled the room:

"Isn't it a pity?"

Thales raised his eyes and looked directly at Cyril.

He had no interest in playing along with this strange old man who, despite his high position and power, always spoke in a sarcastic and sarcastic tone.

"Maybe this is the right thing to do."

“My teacher told me,” the prince said in a deep voice:

"Wise men are rarely eloquent."

Unfortunately, he never managed to do it.

Thales sighed inwardly.

The second prince spoke calmly, implying a firm refusal:
"And I believe that none of us are fools."

Falkenhausen laughed again.

His laughter was unusually long this time, to the point that even the usually patient Thales became impatient.

Cyril stopped laughing and spoke softly:
"Very good, then at least you shouldn't repeat Hyman's mistake."

Thales didn't react for a moment:

"Who?"

Cyril surveyed the room, a sinister laugh echoing through the room, like a chilling wind:

"As a diplomat, he was elegant, impeccably polite, eloquent, and witty, making everyone who wanted to speak loudly in his presence feel ashamed and speechless."

"So he can always get the most benefit in negotiations with his silver tongue."

"No matter who you're facing."

Hyman?

Thales felt a pang in his heart, and he subconsciously glanced at the corner where his personal belongings were piled up—his fourth uncle, Hyman Star's, last letter was also there.

Why bring him up?
Just because this is... the Ghost Prince Tower?
The thought that this was the place where another star had perished, and that the bed he had lain in might have been the one the other had slept in before his death, made Thales feel a lump in his throat.

"But while he was always successful, he also built a high wall in his heart, using a polite smile and clever words to reject everything."

Strangely, Cyril's expression deepened, becoming slightly lost in thought, which dispelled much of the gloom brought by his terrifying appearance:

"Whether it is the flattering and false words of a sycophant or the honest advice of a friend that is hard to hear."

"So he paid the price."

This sentence immediately drew Thales' attention.

What do you mean?
pay the price?

"You know Prince Hyman—my uncle?"

But Falkenhausen did not answer him.

The ruler of the Western Wilderness slowly turned around and looked around the narrow top-floor room. The chair legs scraped against the floor, making an unpleasant thud.

"I still remember that night."

Cyril Falkenhausen gave a soft snort, the tone ambiguous as to whether it was sarcasm or a sigh:

That night.

Thales caught a glimpse of darkness in the other man's terrifying eyes.

"When I arrived, I only saw him lying quietly on the ground, his face covered in blood, unable to speak."

"The camp alarms blared, the soldiers below the tower were in a panic, his personal guards cursed at me, and the enraged aide led the standing army to search for every living person within a hundred feet, even beheading several local nobles on the spot."

"Internal strife was imminent. The royal standing army and the local conscripts and even mercenaries who came to the scene clashed several times, resulting in numerous casualties. Baron Luhmann and I tried to mediate, but to little avail. Everyone was on edge and in a state of panic."

That night.

Thales immediately realized what the other person was talking about.

Duke Cyril seemed to ignore Thales's presence, and simply observed the room that once belonged to the Ghost Prince.

"The supply depot, the supply warehouse, the Bone Prison, and other places soon broke out in riots—just like these past few days, the camp order collapsed, and we had no time to attend to it."

"In less than half an hour, beacon fires and signal arrows came one after another from five sentry posts several miles away: the orcs and skeletons, whose ranks stretched as far as the eye could see, had mysteriously come under cover of night and launched an unprecedented surprise attack."

"The prince's death has far-reaching implications. The standing army is filled with hatred and only wants to attack. The lords are scattered and prioritize defense. The mercenaries are all harboring their own agendas and only seeking to protect themselves."

"With mutual distrust between the generals and commanders, low morale, and the instigation of traitors... we, who originally held the advantage, only lasted for less than a day."

Cyril turned around and looked at the vast expanse of houses below the window, his eyes narrowing slightly.

"At the most critical moment, the various units lost contact. I was knocked off my mount and had half my face ripped off by a damned orc. Baron Luman even sacrificed his life to cover our retreat from the camp."

"If it weren't for the lack of discipline among those orcs who intercepted us, who were just messing around and looting... humph."

Cyril looked at him with sarcasm and disdain, and shook his head with a light snort.

Thales sighed and closed his eyes.

"But that's not the worst thing."

Duke Falkenhausen's face grew increasingly stiff, his unsettlingly ugly and withered appearance transforming into an undeniable, icy indifference.
"Just as we retreated to Grace Town, regrouped our defeated army, and planned to send Hyman's body and the letter requesting aid back to Everstar City... even more terrible news came from Wing Fortress."

Even more terrifying news.

Thales' heart tightened.

"Chaos erupted in Yongxing City, a change occurred in Fuxing Palace, and the King and Crown Prince... were both assassinated."

Thales listened to the other person's words, his breathing gradually slowing down.

"The capital is under lockdown, all communication routes are cut off, and a large number of nobles and lords within the city have lost contact. The center of the star is silent, and our reinforcements are nowhere in sight."

Cyril turned to look at Thales, his head hunched and chest hunched, his gaze unfocused, as if staring at the air behind Thales:

"And this is just the beginning."

"Urgent messages from Wing Fort kept coming in, one bad news after another."

Cyril moved to a shaded area, his face appearing ashen in the chilly wind:
"In the north, the Dragon Fortress has fallen, the Second Prince has been killed in action, and Exter's army is pressing on the northern border, crossing the cliffs with unstoppable force."

"In the East, the Third Prince died at Broken Bridge Fortress. He was in charge of the waterway supply, which was dedicated to the two battlefields in the north and south. As a result, the waterway was shut down."

"In the southwest, Duke Starlake died in internal strife. The Starshine Legion, which had been carrying the hopes of the people, lost its leader and was cut off from supplies. It was torn apart and disappeared without a trace."

The Duke's words, so bleak and chilling, sent a shiver down the prince's spine, reminding him of Gilbert's account of the bloody years.

But Thales immediately recalled Sackel's half-truths and the royal guards' painful confessions in the dungeon, and clenched his fists.

"The stars are blazing with war, the kingdom's hopes are dashed, the enemy is at the gates, and the royal family has vanished without a trace."

"And what about the Western Wilderness?"

"In just one meeting of the lords of the Western Wilderness in Grace Town, many people had ulterior motives: some closed themselves off, some compromised and surrendered, some stationed troops to establish their own independent regimes, and a few privately discussed supporting a new leader."

"Compared to that, the invasion of bastards and barbarians, the fall of the Baki camp, and the raid on the western border seem to be nothing."

Cyril looked up, and the chill on his ugly face startled Thales:
"In the Sunset Temple of Grace Town, listening to their pointless arguments, I, battered and bruised, could only stand before Hyman's body, covered in a thick sheet, and silently asked him: 'Old friend, handsome boy, where have your proud good looks and witty words gone?'"

Cyril's tone was cold, yet it carried a sense of loss and desolation that Thales had not expected.

“That’s all in the past,” Thales tried to comfort him, while simultaneously signaling him to leave:
"Now, we have..."

But Falkenhaus, staring at the ground with his hands at his knees, suddenly blurted out a sentence:

"So, sometimes I regret it."

Regret?

Thales was taken aback.

Cyril raised his head, his eyes flickering with an eerie light:

"What would have happened if I hadn't done that night?"

Thales was somewhat confused:
"Then do it? What for?"

Cyril gave a cold laugh and put the plate back on the desk.

He stared at Thales again, as if he had transformed back into the eccentric, witty, and sometimes scathing Duke of the Western Wilderness:
"That night, if I hadn't secretly let the Shadow Shield assassins into the camp..."

"Place it in front of Hyman..."

At that moment, Thales' heart skipped a beat.

It felt as if every hair on my body stood on end.

The assassin with the Shadow Shield...

Put it in...

Cyril said quietly:

"What will happen in that bloody year?"

Everything froze.

It was as if the sin of the River of Hell had taken effect once again.

Only the fierce wind outside the window reminded him of the passage of time.

Thales stared at the other person without moving, as if frozen in ice.

Before him stood the terrifying-looking Duke of the Western Wilderness, Cyril Falkenhaus, who neither smiled nor spoke, neither mocked nor provoked, but simply looked at him calmly and utterly composed.

The cold wind outside the window picked up again, causing Falkenhausen's robe to flutter.

On the robes, the skull emblem representing the Falkenhausen family, with its four eye holes, was extremely conspicuous and as ferocious as ever.

It was as if it had come back to life.

God knows how much effort Thales put into suppressing the urge to call out to Yordles or assume a fighting stance.

God knows.

After a long pause, Thales, solemn, heavy-hearted, and with difficulty and full of hostility, uttered a single word:

"you?"

Cyril, sitting in his chair, leaned back and squinted his eyes:

"I."

His tone was calm, and his posture was composed.

Thales took a deep breath.

Both of them stood still for a few seconds, only the sound of the wind continued.

Until Cyril showed a satisfied expression.

"very good."

The Duke straightened up, and a rare, shrewd solemnity finally appeared on his withered, pale face:
"We've finally started talking."

I heard everyone's back at work or school after the New Year holidays, so I'll happily update this now (voice rises)~
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(End of this chapter)