Kingdom Bloodline

Chapter 518 Discovered?

In Everstar City, the fervor sparked by the prince's return has subsided (or perhaps it has merely subsided and is waiting for the next outburst). At least the Mindis Hall, which is now closed to the public, is no longer as bustling as before, and Thales is enjoying a rare period of peace and quiet.

But that doesn't mean he'll be at ease from now on.

Starting the next day, before His Highness Thales could even properly enjoy the power that came with his great title of "Master of Mindis Hall," the royal tutoring group, led by Gilbert ("the royal young heartthrob persona packaging company"—the Duke's indignant words) entered Mindis Hall in an orderly manner.

First, the instructor of grammar, including Ancient Empire and Common Elven script, is the renowned Grand Scholar Bona of the Royal Grammar Academy.

Being able to hire him is truly a bargain.

On the one hand, Bona's smooth, reflective bald head saved a lot of lamp oil in the Mindis Hall, conserving resources;

On the other hand, his soft, low, and intermittent voice ("I'm about to die"—the sarcastic DD who could no longer speak loudly) forced the entire Mindis Hall to remain absolutely quiet during class time, which benefited the environment.

Third, his profound knowledge and wide range of fields almost compressed the prince's five subjects (grammar, logic, rhetoric, Old Empire script, and Elvish script) into one, allowing Thales to understand the answers to the following questions:

How much change would languages ​​whose word order, even the "subject-verb-object" structure, differ from the common language (such as the troublesome Ancient Empire script and the damned Common Elven script) bring to grammar? How would they affect the principles and expression of logic? What challenges would they pose to rhetoric? How have they influenced modern language and speech patterns, thereby changing people's thinking habits? Finally, how have they ruthlessly eroded Prince Thales' precious sleep time?

("Your Highness, you, you said you can't finish memorizing? Well, then, stay up late, stay up a little later... Anyway, all you young people who say you go to bed early are lying, you do all sorts of things in bed but don't sleep... What, it's bad for your hair? Oh, that's not important... Your Highness, do you know what a wig is? Who in the palace doesn't wear a wig and fake breasts... What, staying up late won't make you taller? Oh, Your Highness, just put on your crown, and you'll be tall enough..." — Scholar Bona, trembling, whose words made the prince change color three times.)
The history class was taught by Gilbert himself. Compared to Bona's extensive references and long-term vision, the former foreign minister's goal was simple and clear: to turn Prince Thales into a human form in two months and write "From Ancient Empires to Star Kingdoms: A Comprehensive Encyclopedia of Two Thousand Years of History".

(“'Index'! Your Highness, I must correct your joke, it's just an 'index' of the Encyclopedia, nothing to impress... cough cough, it's enough to show off your erudition.” — Serious Gilbert)

As for mathematics lessons, they were perhaps one of the few that could offer some solace to His Excellency the Duke of Starlake. Maester Julio was quite astonished by Thales’s level of geometry and algebra, especially considering that the prince had wasted six years in “the barren land of Exter.”

But what troubled Thales was that as Julio's confidence in him grew, the former, excited about producing an unprecedented "Prince of Mathematicians" ("After you are crowned, remember to allocate funds to us—look, oh my, these naughty little formulas, how beautiful and lovely they are, don't they look like they are smiling at you?"—Julio, the scholar, who kept waving his orchid finger), was enthusiastically and rapidly expanding their curriculum.

For example, one day, Scholar Julio finally combined algebra and geometry and began planning to have Thales use algebraic equations to calculate the trajectory and changes of celestial bodies.

("These basic equations don't match up, do they? The movement of the Star is too bizarre... And do you know if it's possible for us to grasp these immeasurable movements? Several scholars from the Dragon Kiss Academy have proposed that if we divide this movement process into different parts, and keep dividing it, we can get the answer. Let me show you the calculation formulas they proposed... Hey, Your Highness? Your Highness, what's wrong? Wake up, wake up, Your Highness! Finish the problem before you faint!" — The young and promising but pale-faced Scholar Julio)

The course materials they used had expanded from mathematical problems in ancient texts to real-world figures on national conditions and people's livelihoods. On several occasions, Julio even suggested trying to estimate future revenues from past national incomes, or estimating the entire planet's data from the population growth of the central territory. Thales had reason to suspect that if he didn't act foolishly and slow down the pace of the course, it would truly be only a matter of time before a terrifying bell curve and a series of concepts appeared in the textbooks.

As for the science class, thankfully, the well-informed Lord Monton was often witty and engaging when he spoke about astronomy, geography, culture, and customs—if only the prince hadn't frequently interrupted him and embarrassed him.

Why is the Star of the East? What are the components of the crystal ore? If we kill all the whales one day, will we run out of eternal oil? Are werewolves and vampires really cursed monsters, and are they related to wolves and bats? Dragon's Kiss Land is a basin, so is its climate a bit strange? Are the thick fog and whirlpools on the Misty Twin Sea really formed naturally? There are so many eyewitnesses to the legend of the sea monster in the Devil's Sea, hasn't anyone doubted it? Why can the faith of Sunset and Bright Moon and their temple church coexist? How come the man-eating flower is like a dragon? How to cope with their energy consumption? Is the city of triumph and the ancestral lands truly beneath the Eye of the End? How do the vampires of the Feast Territory rule? Surely there are different terrains and climates within the Great Desert? Is the desert city of Caligri real? Why didn't the immense power that created the Great Rift form a vortex to suck in the two continents? Where did the plague in the Three Kingdoms of the Lost Sea begin? Why was the interval between the two eruptions of Mount Sanra so short? Is the varying speed of travel from different ports to the Eastern Continent due to ocean currents? —His Highness's "Ten Thousand Whys"
In art class, after seeing and listening to the paintings and lute performances meticulously prepared by the Duke of Starlake, the renowned Master Uhran gently told Thales: "Studying art doesn't necessarily mean becoming an artist; you can also become an art connoisseur. I think you, Duke, are very suitable to be a connoisseur who will go down in history, especially, especially suitable..."

In short, this week of relentless prince training has made Thales increasingly nostalgic for his former life at Valhalla—except for the deadpan characters.

Why, why didn't we bring that little rascal to class with us?

Thales, who felt completely drained every day, thought to himself with tears streaming down his face.

It would be better to send him back to the desert.

At least the orcs wouldn't force him to memorize the seven cases, three parts of speech, four tenses, three voices, four persons, five word orders, and eighteen different sentence structures that could be interchanged depending on the situation, including the complex pronunciation rules—by comparison, the modern imperial language of that damned general in the Blackpath was far too simple.

Or the twenty-two intonation variations of Common Elvish—good heavens, that's practically a vocal lesson.

In the Mindis Hall, Thales felt so much pressure that he forgot about the unveiling banquet two months later, let alone the power struggles within the Palace of Restoration.

Even some of the "special" courses that should have been a little easier were the same.

Such as now.

"Can you feel it, Prince Thales?"

"As your weapon, it is so sturdy, straight, and tough, yet it is also resilient and flexible..."

A gentle and amiable voice sounded from his left ear, then slowly moved to his right ear, causing a tickling sensation.

"But it is also impulsive, wild, and has boundless desires, unable to restrain itself, yearning to unleash itself, to run wild, to conquer... But you cannot easily submit to it; you must control it and not let this wild horse break free of its reins..."

Thales' face was flushed and his breathing was rapid; he had no time to pay attention to the sounds around him.

"Use your waist, hold on firmly, yes, like that, maintain this posture and direction, keep it as straight as possible, don't tremble..."

Sweat streamed down Thales' face, and he suddenly shuddered.

Oops!

The voice became stern:

“I know it’s hard, but you have to hold on! Tension! Straighten! Lift it up! Don’t let it fall…”

But Thales could sense that he was already...

No.

An uncontrollable numbness spread throughout my body.

Oh no, oh no.

He... he couldn't hold on any longer...

Thales felt a wave of dizziness.

He's almost...

Almost there...

Ah!
Finally, with a dull thud, Thales' practice sword, along with the weighted wheel hanging from its blade, fell to the sand.

Duke Starlake was breathing heavily; his arms felt numb and sore, and his gloves were soaked with sweat.

Footsteps sounded, and Marius came up from behind him, staring thoughtfully at the sword on the ground.

"The time... is a bit short?"

Thales shook his aching arms in frustration and stomped his feet in the makeshift training area in the courtyard to relieve the numbness.

“It’s nothing,” the prince said dejectedly.

"I'm just not used to it."

“The northerners don’t teach like that. They prefer… confrontational training.”

Marius gave a soft snort:
"Then perhaps... you should return to the North?"

Telston choked for a moment.

The setting sun cast its rays upon the courtyard of the Mindis Hall, elongating the shadows of Marius and Thales on the ground.

Behind them, Doyle stood under a pillar, talking to Golov beside him.

"Clearly, our prince has not undergone systematic training."

Doyle shook his head:
"It seems that the northerners, who are skilled in combat, have limited abilities."

Golov pursed his lips.

That's right.

At this moment, Thales was listlessly attending a "martial arts lesson" personally instructed by Lord Marius. Clearly, after a whole day of mental torment, the Duke was not very interested in the captain of the guard's static teaching style.

But Marius seemed to enjoy it.

"Sword stance and parry were an important part of ancient knightly training," the Watchman said with his usual polite smile, seemingly unaffected by the prince's failure and attitude.

"Especially the 'Seventeen Swords of the Knights,' which is a classic and orthodox knightly art that has been passed down in the court since the empire."

"After the establishment of the Star Kingdom, it underwent meticulous research by countless masters, and thus it has its present appearance."

Under the watchful eyes of several members of the royal guard who were sparring with him, Marius entered the arena, gracefully picked up the prince's metal practice sword, hesitated for a moment, and did not pick up the weight wheel as well.

“Every movement and posture has been meticulously considered and tested countless times,” Marius said, turning the sword back to present it with gentle grace, without a trace of impatience.

"And you need to be fully focused, carry it through to the end, do it to the extreme, and let it be deeply imprinted into your body, turning it into instinct."

Thales, whose mind was still filled with word order declensions and arithmetic, sighed and took the sword from Mariusti.

But when Thales tried to pull it out, the longsword didn't budge!

Thales was startled and snapped out of his listless state.

He looked up and saw that Marius was holding the sword firmly in his palm and had not let go.

"So that at any moment in the battle, I can return to the most familiar and safest posture."

Marius stared intently at him, his expression becoming serious:
"For example, every time you launch an attack, regardless of the outcome, you must instinctively and quickly return to defense and remain vigilant."

The next second, Marius suddenly let go, and Thales swayed from the inertia before regaining his balance.

Faced with this less-than-friendly "reminder," Thales forced a smile and expertly twirled his sword:
Even when the enemy is dead?

But Marius's eyes turned cold:
Even when the enemy is dead.

Thales shuddered.

Marius continued:

"I guess the Northerners didn't teach you about 'backstab'?"

"Even if you decapitate your opponent, his torso will still retain momentum and could continue his dying move in the last second after he dies—such as decapitating you as well."

Thales paused slightly. "In fact, the Northlands taught them."

The young duke rolled his eyes and noticed that DD and Golov were watching from a distance, with the former even yawning without any politeness.

“But, you know, they’re facing a desperate counterattack from the orcs,” Thales shrugged, deciding to sever ties on the topic and quickly finish his quota for the day.
"If a counterattack of that magnitude is launched, regardless of whether it is parried or not, and whether the parry is made by a strong or weak blade, it will basically be a one-hit kill, and there is little point in defending."

"Therefore, they emphasize offense as defense, advocating for dominating the situation and pursuing the victory..."

"The most perfect battle is one where the opponent has no chance to fight back from beginning to end."

Thales shook his head: Nikolai the Meteorite, Tuleha the Fiery Knight, Monty the Deathcrow...

Well, among the experts from the North he encountered, there didn't seem to be many who were particularly good at defense.

On the other hand, in the Star Kingdom, from the Fortress Flower to the Wings of Legend, and even the Punishment Knights in the Prison of Bones...

As for the Kingdom's Wrath...

Well, that's an oddity, a presence even the northerners fear.

But Marius stared intently at him, then took two steps forward, pressed Thales's shoulder, and leaned close to his ear.

"Then you'd better remember that your life is worth far more than most people's."

"What you need is to survive, Your Highness, not just to die a moment later than your opponent."

"Survive."

Marius’s tone was wary and mysterious, with a ghost story-like atmosphere, which made Thales instinctively shudder.

“Moreover, most of the opponents you will encounter in the future—if any—will be human,” Marius said expressionlessly, releasing Thales’ shoulder. “A timely and intelligent defensive stance is crucial against their ‘backstabs’.”

Marius's smile had long since vanished:

"After all, you're learning swordsmanship, not suicide techniques."

Thales frowned, sensing the other man's displeasure: it seemed that his carelessness just now had offended him?

Marios walked off the field and spoke coldly:
"Return to the sword-giving stance and attach the weights."

"Try to hold it for another half hour and let your body get used to it."

half an hour?
Thales' face instantly turned sour.

He has only been through a full twelve hours since six in the morning...

Does he still want to have dinner?

Marius didn't even turn his head:
"I know this process is boring, empty, and arduous, with no rivals and no goals."

"Only yourself."

The watchman's words carried a chill:
"Only loneliness, solitude, forbearance, and perseverance, with no helpers or enemies."

Thales let out a breath.

"In fact, your greatest enemy lives in your own will."

Marius turned abruptly, his tone utterly resolute:

"Kill it."

"Take back your will."

Thales raised his eyebrows again.

Really?

Why does a training session sound like an inspirational story...?

Despite his inner grumbling, Thales had no choice but to obediently follow the instructions, adopting the standard knight's sword-giving posture and striving to meet the physical requirements.

It's just that I'm a bit out of touch with reality.

Thales thought helplessly.

Soon, less than ten minutes later ("It should be almost time, right?"—Thales, sweating profusely and looking forward with anticipation), his sword tip began to tremble, his movements gradually became distorted, and he could no longer bear it—muscle strength had never been Thales's forte.

But this time, Thales secretly called upon his most familiar comrade-in-arms.

Soon, that habitual fluctuation subtly and obediently followed his command, spreading up his right arm, relieving the muscle soreness and strain, and continuously injecting new energy.

Thales gritted his teeth and exhaled: Good, he felt much better.

The trembling at the tip of the sword gradually subsided.

He tried to stretch his body and return to the most standard knightly sword-giving posture.

Off the field, Marius, who was observing carefully, had a bright idea in his eyes and began to nod.

Even Golov and Doyle were drawn to the attention.

"Wow, I underestimated him before."

Doyle scratched his head:

"The people from the North are quite capable, aren't they?"

Although he didn't experience the sensations of hell, his hearing was enhanced to some extent, faithfully transmitting these words to Thales' ears.

The prince smiled.

"good……"

Marius walked into the stadium with great interest.

“Very good, Your Highness.”

"In fact, it far exceeded my expectations."

Thales unconsciously straightened the line from his arm to the tip of his sword.

Until Marius nodded knowingly, smiled mysteriously, and said:
"That's really nice..."

The watchman's gaze swept over Thales's steady arms and perfect posture, and in his gentlest and most elegant tone, he clicked his tongue in admiration:

"...The power of ending."

In that instant, Thales, who was focused entirely on maintaining his sword posture, was startled!
He said...what?
The tip of his sword trembled slightly.

On the other side, Golov and Doyle looked at each other with puzzled expressions.

Marius smiled slightly.

But suddenly he reached out and grabbed Thales' sword hilt!

Suddenly, the already active River of Sin surged up, causing Thales to instinctively pull his wrist back!
As the immense force surged forth, Marius's expression changed at first, then he curled the corners of his mouth and released the hilt of his sword.

It was as if they had discovered something.

Thales stumbled back two steps due to inertia, looking at Marius with surprise and uncertainty.

Boom!
With another muffled thud, the weighted wheel slipped off the sword again, rolling one last hopeless revolution on the sand.

The captain of the guard calmly moved his hands and nodded slowly, seemingly still savoring the struggle he had just had with the prince.

But his expression calmed down, as if he had realized the truth.

Thales understood something, and became increasingly incredulous.

It started six years ago...

It all began when a strange power known as the Sin of the River of Hell first awakened within him...

Apart from the black sword, whose power originated from the same source, no one had ever actively discovered his secret in the past six years.

Whether they are enemies from the North and the desert, or old friends from the old lands of the stars.

Thales was happy to hide his true strength and save his trump card—whether facing Meteorite and Deathraven or Shadow Shield, this trump card he revealed last had a good effect.

but……

Thales stared blankly at Marius.

Today, the sins of the River of Prisons...

at last……

Was discovered.

(End of this chapter)