Kingdom Bloodline

Chapter 574 Our Predecessors

In the main hall of the Mico estate, Thales stood before a portrait facing the porch.

"This is Lenster Kevindeer."

Raphael's voice came from behind.

The man in the painting is handsome and well-dressed. He sits on a red leather chair, toying with a slightly unsheathed dagger in his hand—the exposed blade gleams coldly, and the scabbard with the blade tip is inlaid with gemstones.

"One of the six knights under the King of Restoration - Deadly Iris".

Upon hearing the surname and nickname, Thales seemed to understand something, and he looked at the tapestry below the frame:

Leinster P.T. Kevindeer, 27–20 BC

"Seven hundred years ago, he funded and worked tirelessly for Prince Tormund, who had not yet become king, recruiting and training the first batch of professional spies and agents. He made great contributions to the final war and the founding of the Star Kingdom, and was the kingdom's first intelligence chief."

Raphael gazed at the portrait as if he were gazing at the real person:

"Recognized as the founder of the Kingdom's Secret Science."

The fatal iris in the painter's work is only in her thirties or forties, with a focused expression but a slightly furrowed brow, exuding a melancholy and hazy temperament, as if it harbors endless sorrow in its heart, which it cannot dispel.

It evokes pity in the viewer.

Lenster Kevin Deer.

The founder of the Secret Science.

The prince seemed to be deep in thought:
"He was also the progenitor of the Kevin Deer family, the first Duke of the South Shore?"

"Exactly."

Thales nodded without saying anything and followed in Raphael's footsteps.

Stepping inside, onto the star-blue carpet common in the kingdom, the spacious and bright hall of the manor before Thales is a stark contrast to the old and desolate exterior of the estate.

Thales looked around:

"It seems bigger than it appears from the outside."

Sunlight streamed through the window, illuminating the silver double crosses on the tapestry and banners with a gleaming light, a stark contrast to the unexpected depth and darkness.

"We have to thank the original owner of this manor; the architectural layout was ingenious and contained hidden wonders."

Raphael kept his eyes straight ahead and continued walking.

"Unfortunately, the manor suffered a terrible misfortune during the Bloody Year and was almost burned to ruins."

"Otherwise, it wouldn't have become our headquarters."

Several people in plain clothes were busy in the hall, some processing documents, some talking in hushed tones, ignoring them.

It is almost indistinguishable from an ordinary municipal department.

almost.

Raphael led the boy into a side hall.

From the corners of the walls, the columns, the stair railings, and even the shape of the ceiling, Thales could see the former luxury and splendor of this place, the weight of history. But Raphael walked quickly, clearly accustomed to this pace, and the young man could only admire it from afar, taking only a cursory glance.

Until he saw another classical bust in a corridor.

[Halva C.M. Karabyan, 14–65 BC]

The man in the painting is nearing middle age, yet there is no trace of twilight between his brows. With his mustache, he even has a faint smile at the corner of his mouth, appearing simple and sincere.

This contrasts sharply with the cunning and calculating Lenster.

“That’s Steward Harva.”

Noticing that Thales had slowed his pace, Raphael glanced at him and immediately recognized the person in the painting:
"Leinster's deputy and successor."

Thales' heart skipped a beat.

Raphael nodded slowly:
"Thanks to his talent and perseverance, the intelligence network that was originally privately managed by Lenster did not become a fleeting phenomenon due to its bad reputation after the death of 'Fatal Iris'. Instead, it was officially named 'Kingdom Secret Service', recruiting talents, establishing rules and regulations, and has been passed down to this day."

Thales's gaze shifted to the tapestry beneath the picture frame, on which a sentence was embroidered in gold thread, the script ancient and archaic, a blend of classical and vernacular Chinese, somewhere between early imperial language and contemporary common language:
[The eyes and ears of the king, the night watchmen of the nation; keeping secrets and maintaining confidentiality is our department's responsibility.]

Raphael continued:

"Of course, Halva eventually rose through the ranks from the position of Chief Intelligence Officer, was promoted and ennobled, and became the Prime Minister of the Kingdom, second only to the King, and was known as the 'Wise Minister'."

“The wise man,” Thales repeated the nickname, recalling Gilbert’s history lessons:

"'The Wise Minister' Karabyan?"

His expression was strange.

"I know what you're thinking."

Raphael seemed to remember something and sighed:

"Whenever this nickname is put together with this surname..."

"The contrast is so great, it feels unreal?"

Thales chuckled, then suppressed the urge to smirk, straightened his face, and continued on his way.

Their journey was smooth and quiet, passing through countless corridors and hallways. Occasionally, someone would pass by carrying a stack of scrolls, appearing at one door and disappearing at another, their pace hurried and their state busy. When they encountered the two of them, they would only nod in greeting.

"It seems like there aren't many people on duty?" the prince asked curiously.

"Whether it's because of some prince's accident in the Western Wilderness, or some prince's accident at the banquet, many people have been working shifts for days and nights without taking turns," Raphael said, showing no regard for Thales's feelings.

"Have pity on them."

Thales could only shrug awkwardly.

“But what are we doing here? Since Kevin Deer can’t be punished and you can’t do anything about the case.”

Raphael glanced at him, about to reply, when a door behind them suddenly opened, and a man called out to them:
"Raphael, the guys have finished preparing the white gloves. Would you like to come and take a look?"

As the man spoke, his eyes kept glancing at Thales, hesitating to bow.

Raphael seemed thoughtful, while Thales frowned.

"He said, 'Butts'?"

Thales approached Raphael suspiciously and whispered:

"Butt?"

Raphael turned around, shrugged indifferently, as if he hadn't noticed the prince's expression:

"It's a special team under my command; I've told you their full name."

Do we need to repeat this?

Thales forced a smile.

Raphael raised an eyebrow knowingly and turned to walk back to the man: "Very good, Dani, let's check the procedures, it won't take long."

"By the way, keep your eyes in a normal place."

The man at the door immediately withdrew his gaze from Thales.

Thales was about to follow them inside when the Bone Man blocked him at the door.

"No, I'll be out soon. You wait for me here and don't move."

Raphael gave him a satisfied smile and closed the door.

Thales, who was left in the hallway, rolled his eyes.

Hmph, wipe your butt.

The corridor remained quiet. Bored, Thales took a few more steps and examined the portraits hanging on both sides of the corridor: most of them were men in their prime to middle age, some calm and serious, others aggressive.

In contrast, one particular painting immediately caught his eye:

It was a full-body portrait of a woman.

She lay comfortably on her side on the dark sofa, her skin fair and beautiful, her features deep and captivating. Her clothes were full of exotic flair, and she even dared to show off her long legs, displaying a sexy and alluring figure. Under the painter's skillful brush, even her curled toes appeared delicate and charming.

But unlike her figure that makes men's blood boil, this woman's expression was cold and mysterious, completely indifferent to everything around her.

In comparison, Thales looked at her and sometimes saw her as charming and alluring, and at other times as noble and unapproachable.

Thales shifted his gaze to the bottom of the frame:

[Alf Serdu ka Mimo Hambur, 39-77]

“This is Alph.”

A slightly gruff voice came from behind, carrying the familiar Western Wilderness accent that Thales knew well:

"People call her 'Oriental Beauty,' and this is one of the few portraits of her that were not burned."

Thales turned around and was slightly surprised when he saw who it was.

"Wait, I recognize you, you are..."

Behind him stood a neatly dressed man with slightly darker skin, who bowed respectfully to Thales, just as he had done at the Baki camp:
"My name is Norbu."

“It is an honor to see you again, and I am also glad that you are in good health and well-being, Your Highness Thales—or should I say, Duke of Starlake?”

Thales looked him over with some surprise, finally confirming the other's identity:

That secret service officer who dared to confront the legendary Wings in front of thousands of troops at the Baki camp.

Norbu.

only……

"Why are you here?"

Thales's gaze unconsciously shifted to Norb's right leg.

On the surface, nothing seemed amiss, but the prince noticed that Nob was holding a cane in his right hand, supporting half of his body.

Norb smiled faintly, his humility unchanged:

"I've returned to report on my duties, regarding... the matter in the Western Wilderness."

Thales understood perfectly.

“Is that so?” Thales hesitated for a moment, but finally couldn’t help asking:

"How is your leg?"

Norbu paused.

He slowly turned around, looked at his right leg, then at his crutch, and a look of dejection appeared on his face.

"Thank you for your concern."

"The secret department has some good medicine for injuries, but..."

Nob forced a self-deprecating smile and tapped his right cane:
"I have to get used to this thing."

Thales remained silent for a moment.

He recalled how Roman had brutally broken Norb's right leg in the desert to help him cover up the news, and suddenly felt a pang of guilt.

"I'm very sorry."

Nob shook his head, suppressing his dejected mood:

"It's not your fault."

"Besides," he laughed, "if it weren't for this leg..."

"I doubt they'll let me come back so easily. It's possible that this misfortune will turn into a blessing in disguise."

Seeing his self-deprecation and magnanimity, Thales was at a loss for words.

Nob clearly noticed the awkward atmosphere, and he quickly turned back to look at the woman in the painting, trying to dispel his momentary gloom by starting a conversation:

"In short, Alf comes from the Hampur dynasty of the Eastern Continent, and is said to be the exiled descendant of 'Great Qadil' Ama Mimo Hampur." Alf.

Thales raised a question:
"So, Alfred? She's a foreigner, and a woman... and also a member of the Secret Service?"

Strangely, Nob first shook his head, then nodded.

"After John I of Black Eyes' failed northern expedition and the dismissal of the wise minister Halva, the Kingdom's secret service lost trust and its future was uncertain and it was on the verge of collapse."

Norb gazed intently at the exotic woman in the painting, his eyes deep and thoughtful.

"Until Black Eyes decided to give this useless little toy to his most beloved bedmate—like a rewarding honorary position, or simply a gift—as a reason to persuade the ministers to keep her by their side."

The King's Lover?
Thales instinctively turned around, wanting to get a closer look at Ms. Alfred.

In the painting, she remains indifferent, poised, and unconcerned about the gazes of those outside the painting.

"With contempt and hostility from the inside out, Alf withstood the pressure to secure the budget, reorganize and save this demoralized and dilapidated department."

Norb seemed to sigh:

"That's right. In those years, Dongfang Yanying controlled the flow of intelligence and spread a wide network of information. She was the unsung but real head of the secret service and the chief intelligence officer."

He was lost in thought.
"And she did the job very well."

“It’s even too good to be true.”

"Therefore, after Hei Mu died, she was sent to the guillotine for the crime of murdering the late king, and was despised by all."

Thales snapped back to reality in surprise:
"what?"

To murder the late king?

Norb smiled and shook his head, saying:
“It’s not her—Black-eyed John was able to force the ten great families of Exster to set aside their past grievances and unite as one, and even had to seek help from the dragon to avoid national extinction. How could she be someone who is easily fooled by a villain?”

Norb, leaning on his cane, took a few steps forward and pointed to the words embroidered in gold thread below Alpheus's name:

[The plan is a whore, don't believe it—even if you pay enough.]

"But after Black Eyes passed away, his three sons inherited his ambition and aspirations, but none of them possessed their father's great talent and strategic vision."

“I know this part, the end of the first century of the End Calendar,” Thales continued.
"The three stars split up, brothers fought amongst themselves, war raged, and they fought for the throne."

Norb nodded, his gaze distant:

"Therefore, when you lack the corresponding achievements and prestige, yet want to surpass the other two and rightfully wear the nine-star crown left by your father..."

He looked at Alph and said softly:
"The quickest way is to avenge the late king, but if we want to avenge him..."

The prince, realizing what was happening, looked up blankly and continued the conversation:
"You need a murderer first."

Thales looked at the alluring woman on the wall.

"I've seen this plot before."

"A foreign female spy, both favored by the late king and feared by many, and a cunning and beautiful woman with a lewd nature," the young man understood something, his voice low:

"If we're talking about murdering the late king, there's no better scapegoat than this."

Nob nodded.

The prince gazed at Alph's beautiful figure, imagining this once exotic beauty, disheveled and tattered, covered in wounds and shackled, walking alone and limping to the guillotine under the cold gaze of conspirators and the accusations of thousands of people.

At that moment, her head was probably held high.

Seemingly guessing Thales's thoughts, Nob took a deep breath and smiled.

"Don't worry, after King Kessel I of the Peace was crowned, ending the division of the three kingdoms and reuniting the kingdom, 'Eastern Shadow' was exonerated."

Thales felt a sense of relief.

Looking at Alph at her most beautiful, he felt his sadness lessen.

"So I can still see her portrait here."

But Nob shook his head in denial.

"It's a redraw."

Thales turned around.

"By the time this painting was completed, Dongfang Yanying had already passed away," Norb sighed.

"The artists can only rely on a few memories to recreate her former glory as a woman who roamed the pinnacle of power and ruled the underworld."

"But you can see that no matter how much talent they exhaust and how extravagant their imagination..."

Looking at Alph's alluring curves, Nob shook his head in disappointment.

Thales and Nob both remained silent for a moment.

A moment later, Norb realized:

Are you waiting for someone?

“Yes,” Thales said, not without resentment.

Butts.

The prince glanced at the room Raphael had entered and shrugged.

"He...it looks like he won't be out anytime soon."

“In that case,” Nob said kindly, reaching out to the next painting in the corridor.

"You don't mind?"

Thales nodded and followed him forward.

This was far more interesting than the grammar lessons of the Bachelor of Bonnard and the satirical plays of Raphael.

Norb raised his hand and stretched it to the other side:
"Gamper Tebak, known as 'Dark Moon'."

Thales turned his head.

[Gamper W.B. Tebak, 137–215]

Intelligence is everything; everything is intelligence.

"Tebak? The ruling family of Blade's Lair, the Blood Moon of Blade's Tomb?"

Thales remembered Duchess Lyanna, whom he hadn't seen for many years.

The steward in the painting is middle-aged, overweight, and has a noble appearance. The poor man has his entire weight on the cane in front of him, and he is trying hard to straighten his chest and pull in his stomach, which makes his smile look somewhat stiff and comical. Coupled with his receding hairline, which looks like the city gate has been breached...

In another world, this would probably be considered "not photogenic".

"He was the chief intelligence officer who served three kings at the end of the second century and the beginning of the third century."

Norb nodded:

“From Sumer II, who ‘cut off the pulse,’ to Elam I, who ‘ascended the heights,’ and even Tormund III, who ‘cut the thorns,’ all three kings relied on him as their right-hand man and trusted him implicitly.”

King Denggao.

Upon hearing the familiar name, Thales couldn't help but compare it to Gilbert's history lesson, and then his expression turned slightly cold as he seemed to realize something.

Norbu's words carried a sense of remembrance:

"Don't let his appearance fool you. People born in our time can hardly imagine how great, how significant, and how profound the contributions of Steward Ganbo were to the kingdom."

"why?"

Nob exhaled:

"Because in history books, everyone only sees kings and prime ministers, generals and dukes, marveling at their foresight and great achievements, but they are unaware of or turn a blind eye to the filth and corruption in the darkness."

"Because we also find it hard to imagine how terrifying the power and influence the Temple of the Sunset once had in the kingdom before the time of Gamper Tebak—from the defense of the territory and the succession of the rulers to the weddings, funerals, and daily necessities."

"A single order can be changed, a single word can make a decision."

Thales seemed thoughtful, while Nob clicked his tongue and shook his head:
"At that time, the king's scepter was lighter than the bishop's robe, the people's loyalty stemmed from the piety of their prayers, and the gaze of the gods was the destiny of the mortal world."

The next moment, Nob raised his head, his expression serious:

"But from the time when Gamper took charge of the secret service and assisted the king until his glorious retirement and death in Renling City, half a century of swords and shadows had passed..."

"The believers of the setting sun split into two major factions: the church and the temple. They were constantly fighting and weakened by internal strife."

"They can no longer interfere with the royal lineage, let alone meddle in the kingdom's major policies, much less dominate the daily lives of the people."

Thales frowned as Megan, the priestess who had taught theology class about the "strife between elders and juniors," appeared before him—and, well, there was that nervous little nun too.

"In the end, the gods became high and mighty again, ethereal and intangible, and their followers had to bow their heads in prayer before the nine-star crown, gradually withdrawing from the center of power of the stars."

Nob looked at the plain-looking Gamper with gleaming eyes:

"During this period, Steward Gan Bo kept his reputation low, yet made great contributions."

really.

Thales stood before the portrait of Gamper: appearances can be deceiving.

But he spoke too soon.

Because the next painting Norb showed him was of a hunchbacked old man with a weathered face.

[William, 226-306]

It is better to be underestimated than to be feared.

“‘Hunchback’ William,” Nob introduced.

William in the painting is ordinary and unremarkable, with nothing outstanding about him, and even looks deformed and ugly because of his hunchback.

"The first intelligence chief who came from a commoner background—as you can see, he had no surname—served diligently and conscientiously for fifty years, starting from the middle of the third century."

Nob tapped his cane lightly on the ground as he looked at William's hunchback, seemingly sharing his sentiments.

"When people talk about the legendary regency of Empress Dowager Tieci, who survived seven reigns, they always overlook this low-key servant from the same period."

Nob continued talking to himself, and for a moment he even ignored Thales's presence.

"But it was William, the chief of intelligence who lacked both illustrious achievements and a noble reputation, who, together with the Iron Thorn Queen, managed to hold up the weakest, darkest, and most dangerous half-century in the history of the Star Kingdom."

Thales lowered his head, recalling the origins of Ballard's Chamber.

Did I bore you?

“Of course not,” Thales snapped out of his reverie, his posture impeccable.
"please continue."

Norb's eyes lit up.

"Ah, I've got it! You'll be even more interested in this senior of the Secret Science Department."

He led Thales a few steps forward, past several secret police chiefs, and stopped beside one of the most outstanding portraits.

Thales was stunned: unlike the other portraits, this one was framed in silver, making it stand out.

What truly captured his attention was the young woman in the painting.

She rode on horseback, fully armored, reins in hand, sword at her side, her expression confident, disdainful, and composed, as if she were about to leap out of the frame and plunge her sword into the viewer's heart.

This is the second woman in a painting that Thales saw in Micoli, besides Alf.

More importantly—Thales squinted at the patterns engraved on the woman's armor, utterly astonished:

correct.

That is……

Nine-pointed star.

There's one more chapter, which is already finished. I'm too tired to go to sleep now. I'll revise it and post it tomorrow.

(End of this chapter)