Kingdom Bloodline

Chapter 562 Want it all

The Palace of Rejuvenation is the same as always.

It was cold and deathly silent, desolate and bleak.

Pedal, pedal, pedal...

Thales followed behind Baron Quentin, the chief steward of the court, listening to the echo of his own footsteps, and once again felt that suffocating sense of oppression.

It was a darkness that even an ever-burning lamp could not illuminate.

Behind the Duke, Marius remained as composed and dignified as ever. In fact, there were quite a few people who escorted Thales out of the Mindis Hall, but only Marius was allowed to accompany him into the palace.

This is not a good sign.

But unlike the last time (when he was quietly receiving attention), everyone along the way—guards, servants, nobles, and vassals—both bowed respectfully to him, addressed him as Your Highness, and were serious and meticulous.

I don't know why.

So, how much will he pay for his choice last night?

Thales was in a state of confusion.

The palace steward coughed lightly, and the prince instinctively straightened his chest and tightened his abdomen, displaying perfect posture.

After many twists and turns, they did not go to the council hall from last time, but instead went to a higher floor.

The corridors on this floor were lined with portraits of kings from various periods of history, which broadened Thales's horizons.

John I, son of the King of Restoration, was a dashing figure who crafted the nine-star crown. Although nicknamed "Black Eyes," he possessed a pair of clear, captivating blue eyes that gave him a mesmerizingly handsome appearance.

Tormund II, the "King of the Blades" who was renowned for his martial prowess and who conquered Blade's Edge with a single word, is depicted in a seated statue, obscuring his short stature as recorded in historical texts (which he has attempted to alter multiple times without success).

The most controversial figure is Tormund IV the Cutter, who rose to power through a palace coup. His expression is cold and his eyes are sinister. The painter successfully used light and shadow to make his face appear sinister and eerie, making the viewer uncomfortable.

Sumerian III appears humble and composed, with a meticulously groomed stubble. In another world, he would definitely be a handsome middle-aged man admired by thousands, making it hard to believe that he is the cunning and treacherous "Jackal" of the Star Realm.

On the second day after coming of age and ruling in his own right, and the day before his wedding, the "Regretful King" Bancroft II, who died tragically, looked listless and aggrieved, which suited his nickname perfectly.

Elan III, who aspired to a life of leisure from a young age, had no interest in power struggles, and became wealthy and carefree after eight marriages, appears terrified and helpless in his coronation portrait. This may be related to the fact that he was only told at the age of 55 to change his surname back to Star and inherit the throne, and incidentally return all the huge fortune (inherited from his seven widowed wives) to the royal family.

Queen Elijah, the "Conqueror of the North," was shrouded in a solemn and bloated gown that was so out of shape that it was imposing and dignified. She was completely devoid of any feminine features, let alone the legendary beauty described in unofficial histories as "outstanding among beauties, captivating all nations, and looking like a twenty-year-old even at sixty."

Kael'thas IV, the "Sand King," looked majestic and radiant, but this could not conceal his mediocrity and cowardice, which became a laughing stock along with his nickname: after suffering a crushing defeat in his expedition to the desert, he abandoned his army in terror and swiftly buried himself in the sand to conceal his identity, thus escaping death and leaving behind the famous saying, "Invisibility equals invincibility."

Clearly, the three giant portraits in the Mindis Hall that are combined with historical backgrounds are more impressive, but the portraits here are also unique, reflecting the techniques and habits of different painters, as well as the artistic styles of different periods.

but……

Thales watched them quietly, when suddenly something strange occurred to him.

Whether it's these court portraits or the legendary Three Kings portraits in the Mindis Hall, all the figures in the paintings look...

Not sincere.

Finally, they stopped in front of a heavily guarded stone chamber, where Lord Adrian, the chief commander of the royal guard, appeared before them, gentle yet dignified.

“Baron Quentin,” Adrian greeted the head court steward with a bow.
"Are you still alright?"

The palace steward waved his hand dismissively, seemingly unconcerned.

"All is well, all is well. Please excuse me now, I need to settle the tailoring fee for Master Damon."

Baron Quentin's attitude was hasty, and his words carried a hint of resentment:

"We also need to oversee the procurement of the official wine glasses. You know—glass, wine glasses! It's a huge expense, we can't be careless!"

Glass wine glass.

Thales stood behind him, his expression slightly vacant.

Captain Adrian simply smiled with narrowed eyes.

Thales finally sighed and sincerely apologized:
"Your Excellency, I am very sorry."

Baron Quentin turned around, glared, and blew air.

"Oh, Your Highness, you'd better be!"

The palace steward, without any politeness, raised his voice, his eyebrows dancing with excitement, and spoke with righteous indignation:
"For the sake of your ancestors, do you think the royal family's money falls from the sky? It's all the people's hard-earned money, and it can't be given away generously!"

Baron Quentin glared at him one last time and stormed off.

Thales was left behind, his chest hunched and his neck shrunk, his face filled with terror.

"Please understand, Baron Quentin has been managing the affairs of the court for thirty years. He is reliable and meticulous, but also stubborn and inflexible," Adrian explained with a smile.

“In the past, when he was in power, even His Majesty Eddie had to give him some leeway.”

Thales forced himself to put on an understanding smile.

“Your Highness, Lord Marius,” Adrian then formally greeted the two men.

"Welcome to the Imperial Conference Room."

The captain of the guard turned around and raised his hand, showing Thales a stone gate that was at least two people tall:
"Also known as 'Ballard Room'."

In the dim light filtering through the narrow stone window in the distance, and illuminated by two ever-burning lamps, there were at least ten royal guards guarding the dark stone gate, all with serious and unsmiling expressions.

"Ballard?"

Thales squinted, examining the unusual stone door, recalling the royal genealogy he had been cramming on these past few days:

"You mean the Star King who ended the third century of the calendar, 'The Believer' Balad I?"

Adrian smiled.

"Exactly."

"Four hundred years ago, 'Giant' Kahn led his ruthless 'Berserkers' on a massive invasion, and the madness swept across the kingdom, reaching the walls of Everstar City—just as King Balard was on the throne."

The captain of the guard looked back at the stone gate and spoke with emotion.

Thales pondered for a moment:

“I heard this story in the north, about Grand Duke Kahn Trudida of Exeter and his ‘Giant’s Rampage,’ which the nobles of the North still take pride in.”

"So, the Ballard Chamber? Was he born here, or did he ascend to the throne here?"

Captain Adrian gave a soft snort and shook his head:
"When the enemy was at the gates and the country was in ruins, Balad I summoned his courageous courtiers to the palace. They gathered in one room, and he appointed them to positions regardless of their background, and gave them seats at a long table to devise strategies for defending the country."

Adrian was quite moved:
"That was the first royal council in the history of the kingdom. It was held regularly thereafter to handle state affairs, and gradually became an institution that has been passed down for four hundred years."

"Thus, the 'Ballad Room' was built in front of the emperor."

Thales pondered, saying nothing.

The captain of the guard suddenly realized his lapse in composure, gave a self-deprecating laugh, and stepped aside.

"His Majesty and several officials are holding a meeting before the emperor. Your Highness, please come in."

Thales frowned:
"A meeting of the emperor? Now?"

"Perhaps I should wait until..."

But Lord Adrian interrupted him.

“His Majesty summoned you, Your Highness, and you are the Duke of Starlake of the Kingdom,” the captain of the guard said in a humble and polite tone, yet with a unique strength.
"When you are presented to the emperor, please pay close attention to your demeanor."

Adrian said softly:
"No need to be too 'northern'."

Thales raised an eyebrow.

After Adrian finished speaking, he walked towards the guards at the gate:
"Open the door, Marico, and remember to be gentle."

Taking this opportunity, Thales straightened his clothes, and not forgetting to turn his head slightly and ask Marius behind him in a nonchalant manner:

"Any suggestions?"

For some reason, Marius, standing in front of Ballard's chamber, was expressionless at this moment:

"Have."

His reply was as still as a deep well:
"do not ask me."

Thales turned back dejectedly.

Ok.

He truly deserves to be his favorite bodyguard captain.

This advice is honest, insightful, and incredibly useful.

Thales thought ironically.

But when he recalled the portraits of kings he had seen along the way, he realized that he had no recollection of Balad I.

They were either overlooked or placed in an inconspicuous corner.

"Eleanor".

As the stone door slowly opened, Thales uttered a soft sound without moving his lips.

Marius behind him frowned and quietly took a step forward:
"what?"

Thales watched the stone door widen, gazing at the gloom emanating from within, and let out a soft hum:
"Four hundred years ago, King Barad had just succeeded his brother to the throne at the age of seventeen. He faced a crisis, and he was unable to command the princes and his authority was not respected by the people."

The prince squinted his eyes:

"At that time, the person who truly had the authority to convene an imperial council to devise a strategy to resist the 'Giant Spirit's Rampage' was a woman."

Thales turned around and gave Marius a big smile:
"Correct."

"Eleanor the Iron-Thorn Queen."

Marius frowned.

"And this place should actually be called 'Eleanor's Room'."

The next second, Thales turned and walked forward, disappearing into the darkness as the guards on either side of him gave him a respectful look.

His expression was calm.

Walked with ease.

With a soft click, the stone door closed, completely obscuring the figure of Duke Xinghu.

Marius gazed at the deep stone door, then pursed his lips, his voice barely audible:
"Is it."

Outside the stone gate, Adrian walked toward Marius and patted him on the shoulder.

The Watchman turned around:

"So, Captain, is there anything I need to worry about regarding last night?"

"For example, how did that assassin manage to sneak into the king's banquet with a weapon?"

Adrian smiled:
"of course not."

Marius frowned slightly.

Before he could think it through, the captain of the guard put his arm around his shoulder and half-dragged, half-pushed him away from Ballard's Chamber.

"So, what about the Mindis Hall, Tormund?"

The captain of the guard asked his nephew, whom he had watched grow up, in a friendly manner, as if they were having a casual chat:

"Compared to this?"

Marius regained his composure:
"It's good, it's bright."

Adrian nodded.

“Excellent,” the captain of the guard said, his eyes lighting up.
"Only bright?"

“Time is still short,” Marius said casually.

"I'll tell you when you've stayed a little longer."

Adrian smiled and released Marius.

When should I take a day off for myself?

The rather elderly captain rubbed his back: "You know, my wife has recently met a few nice unmarried girls, she shouldn't mind..."

But Marius suddenly interrupted him:

"team leader."

He didn't say anything, his face remained expressionless.

Adrian stared at him for a long time before finally nodding.

"His Highness won't be out so soon," the captain of the guard said casually.

"Same as always, go wait in the guard room."

Marius paused in his tracks.

Lord Adrian smiled at him:

"You know, paperwork."

Marius paused for a second.

“Of course,” the Watchman smiled, a smirk playing on his lips.
"Clerical work".

----

Thales entered the Royal Conference Room and found that it was actually smaller than he had imagined (after all, there was the Hall of Stars and the Council Room, as well as the contrast with the Tomb of the Stars). The dome was low, the walls were narrow, and it was easy to see from one end to the other, inheriting the cold and dim atmosphere unique to the halls of the Palace of Restoration.

It really is a small, dark room.

The prince silently complained.

Under the ever-burning light, at the far end of the line of sight was a long table around which many people were seated, and the faint sound of voices could be heard.

Thales took a deep breath, trying not to think about the unhappy future, and slowly walked forward.

As he approached, the voices around the long table gradually subsided, and most people turned to look at the newcomer to the Imperial Council.

Thales noticed that those seated at the long table were no ordinary people:

Despite his large belly, the Kingdom's Prime Minister, Duke Bob Cullen, the Guardian of the East Sea, still wore a smile, as if everything was as beautiful as ever.

His acquaintance, former Foreign Secretary and mentor, nicknamed "The Cunning Fox," Gilbert, was deeply worried and hesitated to speak.

There's also the royal military advisor, the experienced and nicknamed "The Soldier," Sodor Red, and the kingdom's treasurer, "The Moneybag," Joker Mann, who is said to be able to "pull money out of his crotch."

Viscount Connie, the "pointed-faced" man who had visited the Prince of Exte and had just been promoted to Minister of Commerce earlier this year, was also present, smiling at him in a friendly manner; dozing off was Lord Clapham, the "miser" Minister of Agriculture and Livestock; and Stellanides, the young and promising Vicar General of the Central Diocese of the Church of the Sunset, who had almost become the theology teacher at Thales.

Thales also noticed another man standing at the lower end of the long table, some distance from the other dignitaries. He was a man with a scarred face, looking quite fierce, his sharp eyes piercing Thales as if harboring ill intentions. The prince wondered: Who was that? Why was he the only one standing?

King Catherine V—the most prominent figure here—sat at the head of the long table, casually enjoying the light from the stone window behind him. His face was obscured by the backlight, leaving only a dark silhouette that instilled a sense of oppression.

With a touch of trepidation, Thales swallowed hard and stepped forward respectfully.

"Father."

He bowed politely:

"Gentlemen, good day."

Gilbert was the first to stand up and respectfully return the greeting:

"Good day, Duke Thales."

The dignitaries at the long table rose to greet him, following the former Foreign Minister.

But the king's voice rang out immediately, interrupting this perhaps meaningful exchange:
"Find yourself a chair."

The ministers fell silent.

They first looked at Thales, then at the king, but ultimately did not finish their greetings and returned to their seats one after another.

Gilbert thoughtfully moved to the seat next to him, making room for Thales.

Thales nodded gratefully, stepped forward and sat down, nodding to the Vice-Bishop Stilliards who was sitting on the other side, thinking to himself that everything was alright.

At least they saved themselves a seat.

At least, they didn't directly confront or accuse them.

At least, they didn't just throw him a sword and tell him to "cut his own throat."

At the head of the long table, the man, backlit, switched his supporting arm and tapped the table, his voice cold:
“Go on, Sodor.”

These words were like a sudden frost, freezing the solemn atmosphere that had thawed slightly due to the prince's arrival back into a chilling stillness.

On the other side, military advisor Sordid Raed cleared his throat, stood up, and the royal council resumed.

“In any case, the Free Alliance’s decision to secretly withdraw its elite forces from Freehold and ambush them in the open is incredibly bold,” Sodor, dressed in military uniform, tapped on the long table, on which a huge map was spread out, with black and white chess pieces laid out:
"It should be understood that if the city is poorly defended due to its internal weakness, Freehold will fall and the war will be over."

Sodor, with a serious expression, reached for the castle sign marked "Freehold," removed a knight from among the three or four black pieces, and placed it outside the map.

Thales then realized that the topic of this royal meeting was not him, at least not the assassination attempt of the previous night.

But...

"Lord Sodor has just returned from the Western Wilderness with the standing army," Gilbert whispered in the prince's ear.
"We can get first-hand intelligence about the Battle of Ext much earlier."

Battle of Exter.

The prince felt a tightness in his chest—a feeling he had never experienced before, even when he had entered Ballard's Chamber alone.

Thales frowned as he deciphered the contents of the map on the long table: Freehold was on one side, and Qiyuan City was on the other, with countless mountains, rivers, villages, and castles in between.

At this moment, a dozen or so white chess pieces, starting from Qiyuan City, marched in a mighty wave, occupying almost most of the key points on the map.

They were powerful and stood in stark contrast to Freedom Castle, which had only two or three black pieces left and appeared isolated and helpless.

Just like a caged mouse.

And inside—Thales looked at the dozen or so white pieces—were his friends.

"But the previous series of victories fueled the arrogance and pride of the northerners."

"They thought their opponents would defend the fortified city with the help of the terrain and fortifications, just like they did twenty years ago. So they left only scattered troops to maintain the rear, while their main force and elite troops marched straight in, using their superior strength to attack the most crucial and difficult-to-attack Freehold."

Sodor spoke solemnly. He moved his pieces, pushing more than a dozen white pieces along the line forward significantly, until he surrounded the black Freehold on three sides, leaving only one suspicious gap.

Like the traps left by a mousetrap.

"They didn't even bother to check whether there was anything fishy about the easily captured territory behind them, or whether the real main force was hidden among the scattered enemies who fled along the way."

Compared to Exter's absolute advantage on the map, the military advisor looked heavy-hearted and serious as he stroked the few scattered white pieces in the back.

The king remained silent.

Gilbert sighed and interjected:

"After all, the Exter people's infantry fighting prowess and their strength in charging into battle are unparalleled in the world."

"Without strong fortified cities and iron cavalry to rely on, who would dare to confront their might in open battle?"

Thales recalled the Black Sand Territory soldiers who fought bravely and selflessly at the Dragon Fortress years ago.

Sodor nodded, but then gave a light sneer:
That was their first mistake.

These words were chilling, gripping everyone's hearts.

Sodor raised his head:

"News from the Secret Service?"

Under the watchful eyes of everyone, the scarred man who had been standing silently at the bottom of the long table finally stepped forward.

Thales realized: those were spies from the Kingdom's Secret Service.

"According to intelligence from multiple sources on the front lines," the scarred man said fluently, showing no nervousness, as he pulled out a stack of papers in front of the many distinguished guests.
"While the Northerners were in the midst of their siege and the fighting was intense, the Free Alliance secretly withdrew, and the troops lying in ambush outside suddenly launched a surprise attack, boldly disrupting their rear."

His voice was cold and clear.
"Within a week, the Exeter supply depot along the Sanliu River was in a state of chaos, with transportation efficiency dropping drastically."

As he spoke, Sordor Red calmly moved the black knight from outside the map back into the field, firmly positioning it behind the white team's front line.

"Maybe I'm just getting old and can't remember..."

Prime Minister Cullen adjusted the position of his belly, looking rather憨态可掬 (endearingly simple-minded), and asked in confusion:
"But this style of play sounds familiar."

These words moved everyone present.

Sodor nodded, but did not answer directly. Instead, he gestured for the secret service personnel to continue.

The scarred man coughed and handed over a new sheet of paper:

"The supply lines are unstable. In just one week, the heavy sword legion and heavily armored axemen, which the Northerners rely on to attack the city and are very proud of, have been affected. Several times, their attacks have failed just when they were about to succeed."

"Their cavalry force was formidable, but they were unable to find enough food and supplies in the scorched-earth Free Alliance territory and could only remain stationed in place, waiting for the outcome of the siege."

A moment of silence fell around the long table, and the king remained motionless.

Gilbert was the first to speak out, breaking the silence:

"So Exter lost just like that? It's that simple?"

"impossible?"

Sordor Red snorted softly, his eyes fixed on the numerous white pieces on the map, a look of apprehension on his face.
"Of course not possible."

The military advisor looked at the secret service personnel.

The scarred man remained calm and composed, and began to explain:
"According to our intelligence, in the first few weeks after the supply attack, the Exter people still retained more than 90% of their absolute combat strength, enough to carry out several decisive field battles or sieges, far beyond what the Free Alliance could withstand."

But then his tone changed:
"But at this point, Exeter's commanders disagreed on what to do next."

"Disagreement..."

Gilbert pondered for a moment.

Disagreements.

Thales recalled the battle report Gilbert had told him the night before, and his heart sank.

Sordor Reid remained serious and nodded.

"Qiyuan City strongly advocates for a full-scale offensive to secure victory."

"The city of Jieshou wants to regroup and slowly erode the enemy lines."

At this point, Sodor's expression gradually became serious:

"The commander of Dragon Sky City, the one-armed Kerkekor, advocated blocking the main roads, surrounding them without attacking, and at the same time drawing a small number of people to form a small but elite, yet equally mobile and flexible task force, to use their own strength against them, to track down and annihilate the Free Alliance's last remaining trump card that had flanked them in the wild."

"Once we succeed, all we need to do is throw the enemy commander's head into Freedom Fortress, and the city will fall without a fight, and all difficulties will be overcome."

Upon hearing the familiar name, Thales recalled the one-armed count who was taciturn during court sessions but ultimately made the final decision.

But others don't think that way.

“Ah, Kierkegaard, that one-armed bastard, I remember him.”

Lord Clapham, the Kingdom's Minister of Agriculture and Livestock, nicknamed "The Miser," who had been dozing off, seemed to suddenly awaken, still shaken:

"Eighteen years ago, under his command, the Yankees advanced rapidly and slowly, besieging the stronghold and attacking reinforcements, and finally captured Fort Hamburg, causing the fall of the North."

"Indeed, his plan was the most vicious."

Prime Minister Cullen scratched his head:

"So, of the three paths, which one is better?"

The guests remained silent for a moment.

“I think it should be a slow and steady approach, taking things one step at a time,” said Viscount Connie, the Minister of Commerce, who was in his prime, but his choice was different:
"The worst thing to do when trying to gain an advantage is to be greedy and short-sighted. Besides, the Freedom Alliance is already a trapped beast, so there is no need to take unnecessary risks."

But the aging treasurer, Joker Mann, shook his head in disapproval:
"No, no, no, the greatest advantage of the Northerners lies in their unstoppable, thunderous strikes."

"Besides, the burden and expenses of stationing troops abroad... Believe me, the sooner the war ends, the better; a permanent solution is the most advantageous."

But compared to them, Thales noticed:

Gilbert frowned and remained silent.

Just then, the king raised his head, his sharp eyes revealing themselves in the shadows:
"Sodolf, what's your opinion?"

All eyes turned to the military advisor.

Sodor did not answer immediately. He remained solemn, his finger tracing from one end of the map to the other, as if he were engaging in a battle of wits with the people on the battlefield from afar.

"When it comes to fighting, the people of the North are never ambiguous."

Sodor gazed at the white chess pieces filling the board, his fear deepening.

"Moreover, they have advantages in every aspect and are in complete control."

"I think that since the attack on their rear, they have seen through the Freedom Alliance's scheme, know that the other side is risking to disperse its forces, and know that the enemy is now vulnerable at every turn."

Boom!
"Big Soldier" slammed his fist heavily on the table.

With a wave of his hand, he first pushed a large number of white pieces to the position of the Freedom Fortress, and then knocked down all the black pieces inside the fortress:

"Regardless of casualties, we will launch a full-scale attack; the Freedom Alliance cannot stop us."

Sodor then evenly distributed the white pieces, filling every key point on the map, until the black knight, which had fallen to the back, had nowhere to go and finally fell:

"Consolidate the defense zone, steadily occupy it, and the Free Alliance will not be able to hold out."

Finally, the military advisor clenched his fist and slowly reconstructed the battle situation. He then selected two knights from the white pieces and placed them next to the black knight, before finally knocking the latter down.
"They scheme to attack the enemy's mind, focusing on using unconventional tactics; the Free Alliance cannot defend against them."

Sodor took a deep breath, looked up at the assembled guests, and paused for a moment when his gaze swept over Thales.

"Whether it is a strong attack, a gradual approach, or a surprise attack, all three are good strategies."

Thales nodded slowly, glancing out of the corner of his eye at Viscount Connie and Joker Mann, noticing that they also nodded in satisfaction.

Well, that's a way of saying it that doesn't offend anyone.

But the military advisor's tone immediately changed:
"But when three excellent options are put together..."

Sodor's tone changed, and he became furious.

He nodded to the scarred man in the secret service:
The latter cleared his throat:

"Our intelligence is limited, and we are unaware of the specific decisions made within Exster's command tent."

"But after a prolonged siege, the northerners, impatient with the delay, finally chose to divide their forces into three groups and launch a multi-pronged attack."

This statement surprised most of the members of the Imperial Council.

Even Thales couldn't help but frown.

Of all the people, only Gilbert sighed.

"Splitting the troops? Or three routes?"

Viscount Connie was puzzled and clearly could not understand:
"The Free Alliance is a small and weak nation, with little chance of survival. It's understandable that they would risk splitting their forces, but the Northerners clearly have a large army and a clear advantage... Are they insane?"

Amidst a chorus of questions, Sordor Red snorted angrily.

"The commanders explained to their subordinates that: firstly, it was to alleviate the logistical pressure caused by concentrating the army in one place and to rationally allocate supplies for the general offensive; secondly, it was to protect the rear supply lines that were under constant threat; thirdly, it was to pursue the ghost force that attacked from the rear; and finally, it was to expand and consolidate the occupied areas to facilitate the collection of food and fodder on the spot."

Thales was stunned.

Ok.

Every reason is perfectly justified, well-founded, and even well-considered and irrefutable.

It encompasses the aforementioned strategies of strong attack, gradual advance, and surprise attack.

but……

Sodor snorted coldly.

“Even a child knows that you can only choose one option in a multiple-choice question,” he stared intently at the white pieces on the map, and with difficulty reached out to divide them into three groups:

"As an adult, you actually want it all?"

At this moment, the military advisor was torn; on one hand, he showed contempt and disdain, but on the other hand, his words were filled with deep sorrow and indignation for his colleagues.
"Greed is insatiable."

"Impossible."

"It's not a pity to die."

Among the astonished and bewildered guests, Thales looked at one of the three groups of white pieces, his feelings a complex mix.

No one here has spent such a long time in the North or had such close contact with the people of the North as he has.

The disagreement—he vaguely knew the answer behind it.

But he was even more uneasy and anxious.

Is that right?

Happy Women's Day.

Not only for women, but also for all the disadvantaged who struggle within the social structure.

(I'm going to catch up on some sleep now. There's a second chapter tonight, around midnight.)
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(End of this chapter)