Kingdom Bloodline

Chapter 585 Hold On to Your Sword

For a second, Anke was stunned.

He stared blankly at Thales.

"His Majesty will be very happy, very happy..."

The man from the Western Wilderness turned his head absently and muttered to himself.

"Is that so, is that so..."

Thales frowned.

“You know, this morning, Jenn gave in to my father. He cut off a huge chunk of flesh for it, and then ran back to Emerald City like a shot—as if it were all planned.”

What are the benefits of this?

Thales stared intently at Anker:

"What exactly do you, Jann Kevin Deer and his South Shore Territory, gain from helping you create this big news?"

"Just to embarrass me and the royal family? And then watch you get executed?"

Anke remained lost in thought, silent for a long time.

"Anker?"

Thales had to raise the volume.

Bailar shuddered slightly and came to his senses.

He looked blankly at Thales, his lips trembling, as if he wanted to say something but couldn't.

“You know what, Your Highness,” Anke finally spoke after a few seconds, but what he said had nothing to do with Thales’ question:

"If I die in a duel or at the hands of the guards, it is my own doing, and I have no one to blame but myself."

Anke asked blankly:
"But you, you said you wanted to give me a chance."

"But do you know that when you stopped me, you were taking the weight of a life with you?"

He looked at Thales, like a walking corpse:
"That's very brave."

"But it's also very foolish."

The next second, Anke's expression kept changing, his facial muscles twisting and turning.

It was as if they were engaged in a fierce internal struggle.

Something is wrong.

Thales frowned:
Anker's behavior is not right.

"Interesting."

Thales spoke calmly, continuing from where he left off:

“You know, more than one person has said I’m stupid—and all of them after I made them look foolish.”

Thales recalled people who had said such things: Nunn, Charman, Kessel…

But Beryl ignored the prince's words.

"But why did I agree then? Why did I give you the sword?"

He was immersed in his own world, speaking fluently and rapidly:
"I'm just a pawn, why should I think so much?"

Anke became more and more agitated as he spoke, until he began to sob painfully.

"Perhaps, perhaps I still retain a trace of foolishness," the battered Western Wilderness nobleman gritted his teeth, unable to stop the hot tears streaming down his face.
"A trace of weakness, a trace of luck."

"I want to believe."

"Go and rely on someone."

His reaction made Thales even more suspicious.

“But when they were cooking me… it suddenly occurred to me,” Anke bit his lower lip, tears welling in his eyes:

"You are just one person too."

Thales had to increase his efforts to calm him down.

"If I believe in you and rely on you."

"But you..."

"Whom can you trust, whom can you rely on?"

The next second, Anke suddenly struggled to his feet!

Ignoring the pain of his hands and feet being tightly bound, and disregarding the appalling wounds all over his body, he exerted force and pulled Thales in front of him!
A startled Thales had to brace himself against the other side of the recliner to maintain his balance.

At that moment, Thales found himself face to face with Anker.

And in the other person's eyes, there was actually... fear?
"Your Highness, aren't you just another pawn?"

Anke gripped his hand tightly, his trembling reaching its peak.

Another chess piece.

"What else did Jenn tell you, Anker?"

"Why did he insist that I come to see you—since things are already beyond repair, as you said?"

Duke of Starlake stared intently at Bailar:
"What other pieces does he have...?"

"What is it?"

Anke let out a painful whimper.

"Reason tells me that's wrong, I shouldn't have taken any chances—the desert god has no mercy, but the desert itself is mercy!"

He was breathing heavily, and his words were incoherent and unclear:
"Your Highness, you shouldn't be so weak,"

"The desert god brings no disaster, but the world is afflicted!"

Thales gripped Anke's hand tightly, watching his painful and vulnerable tears, becoming even more certain of his judgment.

Anker is a pawn.

But Jenn... is not the whole story.

"Anker!"

Thales decisively reached out and embraced Anker's head from both sides, looking directly into his eyes.

It was as if I were peering into his soul.

"Think about your family, think about why you came to the capital!"

Anke shuddered.

“We are the same kind of people,” the prince said irrefutably, “no matter what we face…”

"Let me help you."

Anke stared blankly back at the prince, his gaze lost and helpless.

But Thales's gaze remained unwavering.

aggressive.

He was not allowed to back down.

The next second, Anke exhaled.

With that last breath, he seemed to lose all his strength and weakly slumped back into the recliner.

But Thales was stunned.

A series of sobs could be heard in the air.

Before the prince, Anke, covered in wounds, lay listlessly in a chair.

The young man bit his lip, trembling uncontrollably.

Tears streamed down my face.

Anker Bailar.

Thales felt a lump in his throat.

This is the man who dared to disrupt a royal banquet and risk his life for his family's future...

Cried.

Thales suddenly remembered Rolf.

That night, the Wind-Drifting Ghost, having lost all hope, wept before him.

Just like... Anke Bailar at this moment.

The prince sighed, sat down on a stool, and slumped down.

He suddenly lost interest in knowing the answer and didn't want to ask any further.

Just now.

"Tina."

Thales looked up.

Anke lay on the chair, suppressing sobs, letting out whimpers from his throat:
"Tina Emory".

The prince frowned:

"what?"

Anker took a deep breath, as if it would give him courage.

“Tina Amory, daughter of the former Baron of Amory,” he said haltingly, like a walking corpse, “is currently residing in Ravencry, in our Baylar family.”

Thales was puzzled.

"I don't understand, what does this have to do with her..."

Anke suddenly looked up!

"five years ago."

He raised his voice, his face pale and sorrowful, like a condemned prisoner heading to his execution.

"In the year when the 'Frontier Expansion Tax Exemption Case' caused the most controversy, Baron Emory of the Western Wilderness returned from his travels in Blade's Edge Territory, only to contract the Mist Plague, and his entire family died, leaving no heir."

Thales was taken aback.

“But Tina didn’t.”

Anke stared wide-eyed at the prince:

“For five years, she tried to forget the past, living under an assumed name and with us as a maid—after I left my father’s castle with my younger siblings.”

Amory Town...

The whole family died of illness...

Thales felt a jolt of memory, as if he had seen it before.

“But if you go to my house and find Tina,” Anke gasped, fear and pain churning in his voice:

"She is the living, most powerful evidence."

“Her bloodline, her survival, her existence, her testimony prove that five years ago, Baron Amoury’s family did not die from the plague.”

The next second, Anke's voice turned incredibly cold, filled with resentment:

"Instead, it was a conspiracy by several powerful figures in the Western Wilderness to secretly silence them."

At that moment, Thales's mind stirred.

He remembered.

"Afterwards, the town of Amory was transferred to another government, the situation was suppressed, and nothing happened."

"Those in the know include the three highest-ranking families: Heroic Spirit Castle and Wing Castle, and even Falkenhaus!"

He had heard about this.

Thales was lost in thought.

On the way back to Everstar City from the Blade Fang Camp.

According to Cohen's cousin, Count Deler Cloma.

but……

"why?"

Thales realized what was happening and hurriedly asked:
"Why!"

Anke was panting heavily, covered in sweat, and let out a cold laugh that was hard to decipher.

"In order to turn the Baki Camp into a talisman, in order to assimilate that dagger into the norm, and in order to hinder the Westward reach of the Restoration Palace, the Western Wilderness must endure the pain of having a blade pierce its heart, and must sacrifice the interests of the minor nobles—clearly, Baron Amory cannot bear the pain, and the king's decree has dealt him too great a blow."

"So much so that he planned to abandon the tacit understanding with the three major families and act recklessly on his own, even threatening to lead troops in protest, igniting conflict, and forcing the Western Wilderness to clarify its stance and resist the Restoration Palace!"

Thales's expression changed several times as he recalled something a duke had once told him:

[You must understand that when your vassals and subordinates are filled with righteous indignation and their will is unwavering, you, standing before this tide, have little choice but to go with the flow.]

If you don't become their leader, you'll become their enemy, the first to fall victim to the combined attack from both inside and outside.

"The tragedy of the Amory family will be a horrific massacre that will be known throughout the kingdom—the three families are selfish and willing to sacrifice the interests of their subordinate lords, even at the cost of killing the naturally orthodox nobles of the kingdom to clean house."

"This will expose to the world the long-standing backwardness, isolation, brutality, and conservatism of the Western Wilderness."

Anker closed his eyes in pain and leaned back in his recliner.

"It is also the opportunity and bargaining chip that His Majesty has been dreaming of."

"This is the opportunity for Fuxing Palace to completely break the deadlock."

Thales was jolted awake!
"The evidence is conclusive and undeniable. It is a heinous crime that has caused a national uproar. The three major families are facing undeniable internal and external difficulties, while the Western Wilderness is divided and unable to unite."

"They either obediently submit, allowing the Restoration Palace to manipulate them and accept whatever His Majesty decides for them."

Anker's face was pale:

"Either..."

Thales was shocked and speechless for a moment.

What King Kessel had longed for was the bargaining chip to completely tame the Western Wilderness.

It was held in Bairal's hands.

But why, why...

Too many incomprehensible things came rushing in at once, and in a daze, his head throbbed with pain.

The room remained silent for a long time.

"In any case, His Majesty will be very happy to have this bargaining chip."

"I'm very happy..."

Anke instinctively struggled to sit up, the straps rattling the recliner.
“Use it, Your Highness, use this bargaining chip.”

“Use it to plead with His Majesty,” Anke said through gritted teeth, as if he were crushing something precious into his mouth.

“I am doomed, but please, for the sake of the stakes… save the Bailar family and protect my siblings.”

Thinking about the logic behind this, Thales took a deep breath and came back to his senses.

"Why, why did you only say it now?"

The prince asked the tormented soul before him, puzzled:
"If you've made up your mind, why didn't you take it to the Secret Service sooner, or even negotiate with my father?"

Anke's expression collapsed, and the madness and ruthlessness in his eyes vanished instantly.

"Then, Your Highness, what is the price?"

Anke answered blankly.

Thales understood, and looked at him sadly:
"everything."

The young man gave a numb, desperate smile and nodded:
“The Bailar family will become traitors and targets of public criticism.”

"In the chess game of the Western Wilderness, we will no longer have choices, no longer have freedom, no longer have... a future."

Thales pressed down on his shoulder.

The next second, Anke's eyes glazed over, and his voice was filled with endless pain and regret:

"And Tina, Tina..."

"She will never, ever, ever forgive me."

After Bailar finished speaking, he stared blankly into the void, no longer moving.

Like a walking corpse.

Return to deathly silence.

"That girl named Tina."

After a long pause, Thales spoke with difficulty:
"Who is she to you?"

Anker did not answer.

He glanced at Thales with bloodshot eyes, then slammed his arm back against the chair, letting out a painful whimper through his teeth.

In that instant, Thales seemed to return to the cramped Ballard Chamber.

"Is she alright?" the prince asked, bewildered.

Anke was breathing heavily, dazed.

"the best."

"But now, it doesn't matter anymore."

Anke stopped looking at him and said numbly:
"It doesn't matter anymore." Silence fell over the torture chamber.

But Thales was in a state of confusion.

Did Jenn know about this? Or did Jenn know that Anker had leverage?

"This is... what Jen asked you to tell me?"

"An irresistible bargaining chip, an opportunity for the royal family to completely crush the Western Wilderness?"

Anker nodded absentmindedly:
"Yes."

“But not either.”

Thales frowned:
"What do you mean?"

Anke raised his head and looked bitterly at Thales.

"In order to save my family, I did ask Duke Kevin Deer for help, asking him to facilitate my entry into the banquet."

"But it wasn't him."

Anker said quietly:
"He's just another pawn."

Is Jenn just... another pawn?
Thales was taken aback.

"I don't know."

Anke gasped for breath for a few seconds, his face contorted in pain, as if the effects of the Chaka wine were gradually wearing off.

But Thales didn't care about that anymore.

“Even before that, when I was searching everywhere, I had asked another person for help.”

Someone else.

"It was he who reminded me of the plan to bring a sword to the meeting and duel in front of others to protect the family." Anke's words were broken and intermittent, filled with the double sorrow of heartbreak and despair.

"What?" Thales suddenly felt as if he had touched the back of the game.

He carried his sword to the meeting.

duel.

"Who?"

The prince, shocked, grabbed Anker's shoulder and shook him, pressing him for an answer:
"Who is that?"

Anker hissed in pain, but he still managed a bitter smile as he spoke:
“But he was unmoved. He refused to help me. I even used this as leverage to threaten him, but he just laughed it off…”

"He concluded by saying that my only chance to save the Bailar family lies in the capital, in one person."

Anker's bloodshot eyes were fixed on Thales:
"He also said, 'In case I fail, in case I have to use this as a bargaining chip...'"

"I must give it to you."

"It can only be entrusted to you."

Jenn was just a pawn...

someone.

The one who set up this game...

There is someone else.

Thales could no longer restrain himself, and he gripped Anker's shoulders even tighter:

"Who?"

The person driving Anke to his death...

The person moving the chess pieces with a cold smile...

The person who drove himself and DD to the brink of despair...

In his fury, the prince's eyes blazed with anger:
"Who is behind this farcical banquet?"

Thales made quite a commotion, and the footsteps of Nob and Raphael sounded hurriedly from behind:
"Your Highness? What happened?"

But Thales ignored him and simply held Anker down, waiting for his answer.

The person hiding behind the scenes...

That person who stood by and watched indifferently...

The one who, even at the very end, hints to Jann, guides Anker, and pushes himself to find this so-called "bargaining chip that His Majesty would be happy with," even at the cost of igniting all the underlying conflicts within the kingdom...

"He asked me to tell you, Your Highness..."

Anker gasped for breath, then, with his last bit of strength, leaned close to Thales' ear:

"The carriage is about to disband; what do you intend to do?"

Thales was visibly shaken!
what?
At that moment, it was as if time had stopped.

Go with his way of thinking.

The carriage... is about to disperse.

carriage?

but……

Thales stared in astonishment at the dying Anker.

its not right.

impossible.

How could it be...?

"It's too dangerous, Your Highness, stay away from him!" The footsteps behind were getting closer and closer.

Anker Bailar gave a pale, numb smile: "He also said..."

"Since it's been given to you, then hold on to it..."

In that instant, Thales's eyes widened suddenly!

Before losing consciousness completely, Anker struggled to press his ear against Thales's and hissed out his last few words:

"Hold on tight... to your sword."

----

Western Wilderness Territory, Desolate Ruins, Floating Sand Palace.

In the quaint and solemn room, Deleuze Klöma put down his teacup and glanced at the chessboard on the table.

"Do you really want to take this step?"

He asked the person opposite him in a proper and polite manner, "Your Grace, Duke?"

"Humph……"

Opposite him, Cyril Falkenhaus, the master of the desolate ruins, stared at the chessboard with ease, lost in thought—yet his face appeared even more ferocious and terrifying.

"Patience, young man, patience..."

"A good game is never won in one fell swoop."

The Duke of the Western Wilderness casually shifted his posture, his hand resting on his teacup, exuding confidence.

Deleuze remained silent for a second, his face expressionless.

"But……"

The young Earl of Wingburg was quite honest; he pointed to the lonely black king on the chessboard, completely surrounded by white pieces:

"You only have this one piece left."

Falkenhausen's hand, which was resting on the teacup, froze.

Deleuze pointed out the truth calmly and ruthlessly:

"No matter which way I go, my next step is to checkmate."

Falkenhausen's brow twitched slightly.

"What do you know."

Looking at the overwhelming situation on the chessboard where ten white pieces and one black piece were positioned, His Excellency the Duke calmly coughed at the opportune moment to cover his slightly flushed face:

"The situation on the chessboard is only a superficial aspect; what is more important is the player."

He pointed his finger meaningfully at Deleuze, then at himself.

"As the saying goes, a worthy opponent is a worthy opponent. Little Dele, remember, we are playing against people, not against chess pieces."

chess player.

Deleuze squinted.

Falkenhaus smiled coldly and gently moved a piece.

The king abdicated.

His demeanor is refined and profound.

Full of momentum.

Deler glanced sideways at him, breathed a sigh of relief, and reached out to take the next step.

"and many more!"

Falkenhaus roared!
Deleuze's hand froze in mid-air.

The Duke of the Western Wilderness bent down and observed the chessboard with a profound expression.

"let me think again……"

Under Deleuze's incredulous gaze, the next second, Falkenhausen calmly reached out and put the only king back in its place.

"Hmm, let me think about it again, let me think about it again..."

Deleuze's hand fell limply.

"My lord, this is the last step. You've gone back and forth so many times..."

The young Earl of Cloma sighed heavily:

"Otherwise, let's just call this round null and void—"

"Hey! That won't do!"

Falkenhausen slapped his thigh!
"We've made a bet!"

He interrupted Earl Wingburg decisively, his eyes flashing with a fierce light and his demeanor imposing.

"And this is an unparalleled sword!"

Falkenhausen pointed to the sword in the distance where the chess game was wagered, and said seriously:
"Don't you know I just gave away my family's sword?!"

what.

The whole kingdom knows.

Deleuze's good manners made him roll his eyes inwardly.

"But you're about to lose—what good is this sword, anyway?"

He smiled elegantly, then pierced the Duke's heart with vulgar language without mercy.

But to everyone's surprise, Falkenhausen just gave a sinister smile, gently stroking his cane, resuming his air of superiority.

"The situation on the chessboard is merely a superficial appearance; what matters is the player..."

"As the saying goes, a worthy opponent is a worthy opponent. Little Dele, remember, we are playing against people, not against chess pieces..."

Deller shook his head in a daze, and after confirming that time had not reversed, he let out a painful sigh and helplessly covered his forehead.

Falkenhaus watched his movement, narrowed his eyes, and took the opportunity to reach out.

"Trying to move my pieces secretly won't work, Your Grace," Earl of Wingburg said, his head buried in his hands, seemingly knowing the future without even looking.
"You only have one king left."

Despite being caught red-handed, Falkenhausen remained composed and smoothly withdrew his hand from the piece he had secretly moved.

He remained calm and composed.

Without any remorse.

Deleuze raised his head, his face serious.

“To be honest,” Earl Wingburg stopped looking at the chessboard:
"Giving away such a large stake like this, you should be glad you have a good temper..."

“If Count Bozdorf were here, he would surely lead his troops straight to Ravencry and burn that orphan girl from the Emory family to ashes.”

Falkenhausen acted as if he hadn't heard.

He just stared intently at the chessboard, at his only remaining king.

It's as if you can witness miracles.

“You seem to have a massive army pressing in, and I seem to have no chance at all,” the Duke muttered to himself, focused on the game. “But where is the turning point…”

Deleuze glanced at him and tentatively said:
"Of course, if Black Lion knew this now, he would probably lead his troops straight to the desolate ruins and break your other leg as well."

Falkenhausen remained engrossed in his game, scratching his chin in deep thought.
"You're going to die no matter which way you go, you little bastard. No wonder you were trained by Karabyan..."

Deleuze scoffed dismissively:
"Are you sure you've taken the right step?"

"What if His Majesty were to announce to the world tomorrow, listing our crimes and forcing us, well, for example, to reduce the army, raise taxes, and relinquish the power to appoint and dismiss officials, and Count Bozdorf, unable to bear the humiliation, were to lead a rebellion?"

Earl of Wingburg stared coldly at Falkenhaus.

But the Duke still ignored him.

“It doesn’t matter, chess skills aren’t the key, not the key,” Falkenhausen said thoughtfully, rubbing his palm as if trying to pull a chess piece out of it.

"The key is the person playing the chess game... Think, Cyril, think again, there must be a way..."

But the next second, Deler's aura changed.

“But let me make this clear beforehand, Your Grace,” he said, staring grimly at the Duke of the Western Wilderness who was muttering to himself.
"If things don't end well, I don't plan to die with you."

“Wing Fortress has its own place to go.”

However, Falkenhausen paid no heed, only staring at his bald king badge:
"It's okay, keep thinking, keep thinking, until it gets dark or dawn, there will definitely be a way to break this deadlock..."

It's getting dark...

Dawn breaks...

Deler looked up at the position of the sun and felt a chill run down his spine.

"Alright, Lord Cyril."

Having long lost interest, Deler pushed over his white king with one finger and said impatiently, "It's just a game of chess."

"I surrender."

Just now.

"Snapped!"

Falkenhaus slapped his thigh hard!

"look!"

The Duke, who had been immersed in the world of chess, seemed to suddenly come back to life and return to the real world.

"look--"

He pointed to the white king that Deleuze had pushed down, grabbed his own black king, and laughed excitedly:
"Isn't that a victory?"

Looking at the Duke of the Western Wilderness, who was laughing wildly, Deler's expression twitched.

Win my ass...

Falkenhaus put down his chess piece, deeply moved, and sighed heavily:

"This shows that perseverance will eventually pay off, and hard work is the key to success..."

Deleuze's facial twitches became increasingly excessive.

Looking at the desolate ruins outside Floating Sand Palace, as if razor-shoveled by nature, Falkenhaus suddenly felt a surge of heroic spirit and slammed his hand on the table:
"In this scene, in this game, and with this victory, we should raise a big toast!"

Count Wingburg could no longer hold on. He sighed helplessly and buried his face in his hands again.

“Playing chess, playing chess, indeed, it’s not a game of chess, nor is it about chess pieces,” Falkenhaus chuckled.
"But he's a chess player."

Deleuze offered a polite but helpless smile.

Chess player, you're a fool.

"Like you, little Delger, you're still too young and too eager to admit defeat..."

Deleuze could no longer hold back.

"Yes, the whole game took two hours, and you spent an hour and a half just on the last move..."

He stood up and left briskly, not forgetting to swear as he did so:

"Who the hell can beat you at this?"

Watching the other person's departing figure, Falkenhausen smiled softly.

He turned around and stared at the unyielding black king on his chessboard.

“My uncle can,” the Duke sighed softly.
“Midiel can too.”

Upon realizing this, the Duke of the Western Wilderness's expression changed.

He stood up in a panic and shouted urgently:
"Hey, leave me that sword!"

"Wow, I finally won this bet!"

He stretched out his hand expressionlessly: monthly pass, reward, and a comment praising Wujian's diligent updates.