Kingdom Bloodline

Chapter 58 The Game of Heroes (Part 1)

Thales, single-minded and focused, walked into a dark room.

Outside the dark room came the distinctive buzzing sound of a crowd gathering, noisy and unsettling.

This reminded him of the football team he had supported in his previous life, and he probably felt the same way when he first entered the stadium to watch a match.

Amidst the buzzing outside the darkened room, a young, cheerful male voice suddenly rang out:

“Hey, old man! Director Robick! I’m here, I’m here! Hey, sir, you look familiar.”

"Wait—you're from the Chloe family... Cousin Deller! Good heavens, after all these years, you've grown up to be so ugly! Kassa and Kina will definitely cry!"

Thales suddenly realized something, took a few steps forward, and looked out through the one-way glass in the dark room. Sure enough, the entire Hall of Stars was diagonally below him.

The Hall of Stars is a semi-open-air oval hall, at least a dozen meters high, capable of accommodating at least a thousand people. There are no walls facing the Star Gathering Plaza, only protruding terraces, making the hall look like an irregularly shaped wide cylinder that has been chopped off from the top—or rather, a half-covered oval shovel of trash. Thinking of this, Thales couldn't help but smile.

The hall was already half full, with several hundred people sitting or standing.

The closer you get to the center, the sparser the crowd becomes; the people there are elegantly dressed, quiet and composed, and almost everyone has a seat—these are the nobles.
In the center of the hall is an empty circular platform, surrounded by seven stone seats of distinctly different sizes.

The unique stone seat is the throne, while the six surrounding stone seats belong to the six guardian dukes. Beyond these six main stone seats are thirteen more stone seats, belonging to thirteen noble families, forming a large semicircle.

The six large stone seats were still empty, while the thirteen stone seats were already occupied by some men, all of whom were between twenty and sixty years old. Their insignia and badges varied, as did their expressions. Behind each seat stood several tense-looking attendants.

The voice he had just heard came from the stone thrones of the thirteen noble families. Behind one of the thrones stood a handsome blond man in a star-blue guard uniform. He was dashing and had sharp features, and compared to the more effeminate mage Ashida and the "pretty boy" vampire Istrom, he appeared more energetic and masculine.

However, this handsome man was about to be hit hard on the head with his cane by a middle-aged nobleman with gray hair and an angry expression who was walking towards him!
The middle-aged nobleman's clothing was embroidered with a symbol of two tall towers and a long sword.

“Cohen Karabyan, where is your aristocratic upbringing? Can’t you speak like a human being! Dele is not only your cousin, but also the head of the Clomar family, one of the thirteen noble families! Lord of Wingburg, Earl of the Kingdom! Show some respect!”

A stunned Thales, in the dark room, stared at the kingdom's guard, Cohen Karabyan, gritting his teeth and clutching his head, yelling at his father, "Old man, the final stage is right in front of us anyway! One more tap and we'll go up there and duel!"

Many people turned their heads in this direction, but after seeing that it was the seating arrangement of the thirteen prominent families, they all shook their heads and ignored it.

How can this noble family be so... eccentric?
“Haha, I know Cohen well, this will show our closeness even more…” Deler, who seemed to know about his uncle and cousin’s daily life, quickly waved his hand to smooth things over, while Lobik, on the other hand, hurriedly grabbed old Earl Karabyan and pulled him back from his second swing of the cane.

"By the way, Cohen, although you are the eldest son of the Karabyan family... your father didn't even arrive, so how were you allowed in?" Lord Robick Dillah, the West City Police Chief, quickly changed the subject.

“I’m not really sure either,” Cohen said, scratching his head and frowning. “I just recovered from the injury I sustained on Red Street a few days ago—old man, put down your cane, we’ll talk about this when we get home—I received the order to go on duty, and as soon as I arrived at the gate of Fuxing Palace, the city defense team and the guards saw that I was one of their own and let me in. When the guards in the palace heard that I was Karabyan, they led me into the Hall of Stars.”

His father, Lord Vora, Earl of Old Karabyan, was taken aback upon hearing this.

The old count asked no further questions. He and Count Deler Cromar sat down on two stone seats, while several knights, Cohen, and Lobik stood behind him.

Listening to their conversation, Thales roughly guessed that both families were members of the Thirteen Noble Families.

At that moment, the previously noisy crowd suddenly fell silent.

Thales turned his gaze in another direction.

In the distance, two unforgettable figures, surrounded by two groups of attendants, stepped onto a blue star-patterned carpet and entered the Hall of Stars.

People on the road naturally made way for them, some bowing to greet them, others whispering among themselves.

Among the two figures, a large, noble-looking old man smiled kindly, occasionally responding to the people on either side. Behind him was embroidered a sword and a shield, intersecting against the backdrop of a red sun.

That was Bob Cullen, the Prime Minister of the Kingdom, Lord of Bright Harbor City, and Duke Guardian of the East Sea.

Beside him, another middle-aged nobleman in military uniform, exuding a menacing aura, didn't even glance at his surroundings, but simply strode forward with a cold expression.

On the chainmail shirt worn by the middle-aged nobleman, one can clearly see a sharp-eyed falcon, its wings outstretched against a white background, carrying a twig.

This is Val Arend, the Lord of Coldhold and Duke of the North, who arrived in the capital a day ago.

The sun sword and shield and the white eagle—these are their emblems, representing the two most powerful families among the six great clans.

"A national affairs conference? This is utterly ridiculous!"

The Northern Duke, Val, with a scar on his chin, looked indignant and made no attempt to conceal his voice as he angrily addressed the large, fat old man beside him:

"He personally signed the general edict! And then he suddenly... let those commoners get involved, that's tantamount to betrayal! As Prime Minister, you should stop him!"

Those minor nobles who overheard the conversation between the two dukes quickly lowered their heads or turned away—who would dare listen to the six guardian dukes criticizing the supreme king of the stars!

“Although I also feel it is not quite appropriate,” said Bob Cullen, the white-haired, portly Duke of the East Sea, with his rosy cheeks, expensive mink shawl, and protruding belly, “I am powerless to stop His Majesty’s will.”

Val snorted in dissatisfaction, clearly unhappy with the Prime Minister's excuse.

The fat old man who straddles the wall and sways in the wind—how did he become known as the "Sword of the Gulf" in his youth?

As they passed the thirteen stone seats, every nobleman present stood up and bowed in respect, including the mature Karabyan and the young Cloma.

“Even if he is the king to whom we have sworn allegiance, he cannot humiliate us like this!” Valli flung off his cloak and tossed it to his warrior-looking follower behind him, then sat down with an air of superiority.

This weathered man with a scar on his chin, a white eagle on his chest exuding a chilling aura, and dressed in chainmail, boldly raised his left hand, radiating the sharpness and unapproachable aura unique to northerners.

He made no attempt to hide his loathing for the king: "I really want to knock that bastard's teeth out! Just like forty years ago!"

Cohen, behind his father's seat, whispered, "Even the Duke of the North—how could he speak of His Majesty like that, without any attempt to conceal it?"

“If you had grown up with His Majesty and almost married your sister to him,” Count Kalabyan whispered in reply, “you would also be able to talk about His Majesty like that.”

“Be careful what you say. The guards will soon start relaying the message, and then every word spoken by the Twenty Stone Thrones will be heard throughout Star Gathering Square.” The old Duke of Cullen looked on, sighed slightly, and, with the help of his attendants, sat shakily on one of the six stone thrones: “He is, after all, our Emperor! We can only hope that our advice will be effective.”

These northerners—fifty years have passed, and they haven't made any progress at all, the old duke thought to himself, shaking his head.

At this moment, a commotion broke out in the crowd, and the murmurs that had gathered together grew louder and louder!

Gilbert's familiar voice came through:

"In the name of the Supreme King of the Star Kingdom, Kessel Star..."

"Citizens of the kingdom, pay homage to your Majesty!"

Thales raised an eyebrow: a group of people walked in through another side door of the Hall of Stars.

The crowd moved like waves, kneeling down one after another, only standing up after the king was far away.

The robust King Catherine V, still clutching his scepter, stepped into the Hall of Stars with a cold and dignified expression.

Eight members of the royal guard stood closely behind him.

The king instantly became the center of attention. Despite kneeling on one knee, the whispers among the crowd did not decrease but instead intensified.

“His Majesty has arrived,” the Duke of Donghai patted his chubby face and said with a smile, “You might as well offer your suggestions to him in person.”

"Hmph," the Duke of the North scoffed, "as if he would listen to me as long as I spoke."

His Majesty Kessel strode toward the stone seat. Suddenly, he looked up and glanced, seemingly casually, toward the dark chamber.

Thales gently clenched his fist.

He adjusted his breathing and calmed himself down.

Calm down, Thales. The real show hasn't even started yet.

Behind Iron Fist King's cloak, a group of people led by Gilbert followed closely behind, and the mature and tall Ginny was among them.

It was only then that Thales noticed that Gilbert's family crest was actually a double-sided book.

“Ah, it’s our Star Fox, Earl Cassel,” the portly Duke of the East Sea, Cullen, said with a smile. “And Earl Godwin, Viscount Connie, Baron Garth, Lord Clapham… all the future hope of the kingdom… and our clever and astute lady-in-waiting, Lady Ginny.”

“Royalists.” Val, sitting on the stone throne, shook his head in disgust. “I hope they soon realize that the best way to support the king is to find ways to make his lord do less crazy things, rather than trying every means to attack the nineteen nobles who are the arms of the kingdom—as for that wretched woman, every second she spends in the palace is an insult to the Aarond family.”

"Hu-hu-"

"King—King—"

Just then, an even louder cheer erupted, surging from the open air into the Hall of Stars!
The hall was immediately filled with deafening shouts coming from afar.

Many nobles paled, while many commoners of high status whispered excitedly among themselves, some even cheering.

Thales realized: this was the cheering crowd at Starstreet.

“I guess,” Duke Cullen smirked, “the guards have already started relaying messages down to the square?”

Val turned his head, his face ashen.

Kessel came before the Thirteen Stones and looked at his vassals.

The thirteen prominent families rose early, lined up before him, and knelt on one knee to prove their loyalty.

With a blank expression, Kessel extended his right hand and offered it to the first nobleman whose emblem was a pentagram, instructing him to kiss the ring on it.

“Bourne Taren, you are the first,” the King said calmly. “You are still the first. You are always the first.”

“Blood is thicker than water, Your Majesty. The Taren family is a branch of the Shining Star family, just as a pentagram is always a part of a nine-pointed star.” The middle-aged nobleman bowed his head respectfully.

Kessel frowned almost imperceptibly, but he nodded and walked toward the next nobleman.

“Smith Sorel,” his authoritative voice rang out, drawing every gaze, “I have heard that you and your territory are relentlessly opposing the Frontier Expansion Tax Exemption Ordinance?”

“Of course, Your Majesty!” The middle-aged nobleman, who wore a golden sun emblem, kissed the king’s ring and shook his head firmly. “The blood of a nobleman must not be tainted.”

Kessel gave a soft hum.

“Lewis Bozdorf,” His Majesty the King extended his hand to a nobleman with a black lion brandishing its claws on his chest, “Will the warlike black lion still fight for the pride?”

“We will fight to the death, Your Majesty,” the nobleman replied slyly, kissing the king’s ring, “as long as the Lion-Head remains wise and valiant, and cares for the pride.”

Kessel nodded and continued forward.

“Turamy Karabyan,” Kessel walked up to Count Karabyan, a look of nostalgia on his face. “I remember you were once a member of the Star Legion, risking your life for John.”

“It was for my homeland that I risked my life,” Count Kalabyan said solemnly, kissing His Majesty’s ring. “All for the stability of the stars.”

Kessel nodded thoughtfully.

“Dele Klöhrl, you seem smarter than your father,” Kessel continued, speaking meaningfully to the young Deleuze. “Is the raven that would save its master even with a single wing still in the Wingburg?”

“That raven was saved and cared for by its master,” Deler Cloma, whose body was tattooed with a single-winged raven, enunciated the words deftly, kissed the king’s ring, and answered expressionlessly, “which is why it risked its life to save its master—of course, that raven will live on in the Wing Castle forever.”

Kessel patted him on the shoulder and walked toward a balding nobleman, extending his right hand.

“Hoch Dastan,” said the nobleman, whose body was embroidered with two longswords crossed in a cross shape, in a cold voice, “I remember your tribal motto is ‘Forward or backward, survival or fall.’ Have you chosen the direction you should take this time?”

“The direction has always been there,” Hodge Dastan, who was already half-bald, lowered his head to kiss the king’s ring, obscuring his expression. “But those who stand too high can never see clearly.”

Kessel gave a cold, angry snort, making no attempt to hide his displeasure with this man.

“Wilkos Zemuto, Polit Fores,” this time, the king extended both hands toward the two stern nobles whose emblems were white bears and iron walls: “Can Watchtower and Lonely Tower withstand the biting winds of the North?”

“A cold wind?” Earl Wilcox Zemuto, with his bushy beard, kissed the king’s ring and said with great pride, “For the stars, Watchtower can even withstand the wrath of dragons!”

Not to be outdone, the bald Earl of Polit Fores kissed his ring, his eyes shining: "Though the Tower of the Lonely Old Man stands amidst howling winds, no matter how biting the winds may be, the fire in the hearth within still burns ever bright."

At the king's signal, the two northern nobles slowly stood up.

Kessel walked past all thirteen noble families present and approached the two dukes.

He waved his hand to stop Bob Cullen, who was swaying and trying to stand up: "Prime Minister, forget it, your belly is heavier than my scepter."

The Duke of the East Sea smiled, seemingly oblivious to the implied meaning in Kessel's words, and simply nodded his thanks.

Ginny, who was standing nearby, removed Kessel's cloak and allowed His Majesty the King to sit on the highest stone throne.
“As for you,” Kessel glanced at Val, shook his head dismissively, “I guess you have some strange ailment that prevents you from bending your knees?”

“Yes,” Val Arend said casually, his eyes blazing with anger, “I’ve contracted this strange disease whether facing Exter or the Star Kingdom!”

Kessel shook his head: "Forty years have passed, and your sense of humor is still so bad."

After exchanging veiled and subtle expressions of allegiance, the nobles from the thirteen prominent families returned to their seats.

"Of the six guardian dukes, two are present, and eight of the thirteen noble families have arrived," Gilbert reported solemnly. "Your Majesty?"

"Wait a little longer," Kessel said calmly.

Once again, thunderous cheers erupted in Xingju Square.

Amid cheers, Val said disdainfully, "Suddenly announcing that the High Council will be changed into a National Conference and convened ahead of schedule—how many of those noble families who live too far away do you think will be able to make it? At least, the Tebak family of Blade Ridge City can forget about it!"

Kessel shook his head, expressionless: "This is a game of chess among the heroes of the stars. The players have already been chosen, and the game has already begun."

"It seems that crown has not only turned you into a king, but also into a third-rate bard," Val Arend said indignantly, grinding his teeth. Only the Duke of the East Sea smiled and tried to smooth things over.

Thales, who was in the dark, felt a sudden tightness in his chest. He saw an old man in a black robe, leaning on a cane, standing at the very end of the "Royalists" line. Everyone around him was trying to avoid the old man, except for a young man in a white robe who was dressed in equally simple clothes.

That is……

“Morat Hansen. Why is he here too?” Lord Lobic, standing beside Cohen, frowned as he looked at the figure in black robes. “I get chills just looking at that viper.”

“He’s the kingdom’s chief intelligence officer and attends the royal council meetings, so of course he has to come,” Cohen frowned, clearly not fond of the man. “But according to the director, His Majesty and Prime Minister Duke Cullen, who see him every day, would have frozen to death long ago… Hmm?”

Cohen raised his eyebrows, a look of disbelief on his face.

"That is?"

Under the astonished gazes of his father and the director, the blond-haired guard officer Cohen Karabyan strode forward, his expression filled with anger and resentment, towards—

"Black Prophet" Morat Hansen!

Thank you "Glory of Iris Pattern" for the 100 Qidian Coins! -- Oh, what a coincidence, it's you again!

Are you feeling dizzy from looking at so many names?

It's okay!
Because Thales thought so too.

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(End of this chapter)