Kingdom Bloodline

Chapter 626 Receiving
Star Lake Castle, night.

The guard's dining room was covered in dust and cobwebs, with only two candles casting a red glow that cast eerie shadows.

But at this moment, many people are sitting here eating, making it noisy and lively.

“That old man, Vitano,” DD leaned against the wall, propped his legs up on the bench, and took a big bite of bread. “I’ve never heard him say a word since we got here. Is he some kind of zombie that crawled out of the ground?”

Zombies.

People eating at the same table looked at each other, then subconsciously glanced at the other table behind them.

DD realized something, gave an awkward smile, and turned to wave at the real "zombie"—Golfo:
"Sorry."

Grover was drinking soup when he heard this, so he threw down his spoon and his gaze turned cold:
"Why are you apologizing?"

Doyle was taken aback by the zombie's menacing gaze.

"I……"

DD realized something was wrong, chuckled self-deprecatingly, and lowered his head.
"Hug, sorry."

“But that old man, the caretaker, maybe he really is a zombie.” Wyman suddenly spoke up from the other end of the long table, drawing everyone’s attention.

The dining room fell silent.

Golov frowned.

“Be careful what you say,” Toledo, Marius’s herald, solemnly reminded him. “Commander Marius has great respect for that old gentleman.”

Wyman shook his head, lowered his head and took a sip of the strange-tasting "drink" that the logistics wing had somehow gotten its hands on, his expression pained.

"No, what I mean is, he's not simple."

DD leaned closer: "What do you mean, is it really Wyatt?"

“Starlake Fort has been unclaimed for years and is practically an animal den,” Wyatt said gravely. “And animals are very territorial; even our breath can startle a flock of crows from a corner, but…”

He raised his head and looked at everyone:
"The old guard lives here, but he hasn't disturbed even a single mouse."

The diners immediately became awe-inspiring.

In a shadowy corner, Hugo Forby, the First Class Standard Bearer, who stood out from the crowd, expressionlessly picked up a notebook and began to scribble:

Wyatt Castle.

Keen observation skills.

Lacking in tact.

"Has he been living here too long, and the animals aren't afraid of him anymore?" DD first flicked away a spider that had landed on the bread, then tore off the dusty crust and took a bite.

Wyman shook his head: "That's just the best guess."

Logistics officer Piloga turned his head from the window:

"And what about the worst-case scenario?"

Across from Glov, Rolf stared irritably at his soup bowl, in which a spider, which had appeared out of nowhere, was struggling.

DD sighed:

"Zombies."

At this point, DD seemed to remember something and waved sheepishly to Golover:

"Um, sorry!"

Golov snorted angrily and swallowed the food in his mouth.

"Morgan, Custa, it's your turn." Two tired figures entered the dining room, where they took turns changing shifts with the two people inside.

Doyle's eyes lit up:
"Hey, Bastia, Neshi! So, what good stuff does Jackal Tower have?"

"You mean besides cobwebs, furnace ash, cat droppings, bird droppings, ghostly figures, rotten wood, and rusty iron? DD?"

The young vanguard officer Neshi picked up his water jug, poured himself a drink, and said sarcastically:
"Let me think... oh right, there's a rotten rag that smells like poop—ugh, damn it, what's that smell?"

“Mate tea,” Piloga sipped his tea contentedly by the window. “Don’t ask too many questions. It’s just a friendly donation from the logistics wing.”

“There’s a monastery in the southeast corner, with quite a few cemeteries inside,” Bastia said, decisively pouring out his drink and tearing away a spiderweb from his head. “It’s surprisingly clean, obviously someone cleans it regularly—maybe it’s that old man.”

"He might live in a cemetery, you know—a zombie!"

DD laughed and habitually turned around to wave:
"hug--"

“Say sorry again, and I’ll throw you out the window.” Golov stared intently at him.

As if to complement him, Rolf, standing beside him, poured out the spider soup in his hand, snorted coldly, and a slight, eerie breeze stirred up.

The room fell silent.

Doyle could only turn back sheepishly.

In the corner, a few more lines appeared in Forbes's notebook:

Karen Glov.

Atmosphere destroyer.

However, it has the authority to make a final decision.

“Don’t worry,” Paul Bozdorf, who had joined halfway through and remained silent, suddenly said. “Lord Marius has his reasons for trusting that old man.”

Wyman's eyes flickered:
"You know him?"

Paul shook his head:
"No, but I know that surname."

"Add to the list."

Paul remained calm and said in a low voice:

"This is the maiden name of the current queen, and also the family of a wealthy merchant family in the kingdom."

All eyes turned to Bozdorf's successor.

"Queen Koya?" Wyatt was immediately surprised.

"Your Highness's stepmother?" DD asked, puzzled.

"We still have a queen?" Willow of the North asked, puzzled.

Paul ignored everyone's reactions and continued:
"The Cato family started by reselling spoils of war and profiting from war. They are low-key but have close ties with the Palace of Restoration. They are among the best of the royal chartered merchants and have opened up many sources of income for the generations of Stars. Although their titles are low, their positions are key and their influence is considerable."

Paul looked up:
"That's why His Majesty Kessel, who was the youngest son of the late king, married a daughter of the Cato family."

The flag-bearer, Fu Bi, remained expressionless, continuing his prolific writing.
Paul Bozdorf.

Somber and reserved, yet his words hit the nail on the head, revealing a profound depth of knowledge.

“Oh, that explains why the old man is here,” DD exclaimed, “because his job is to guard the royal family’s property.”

Wyman squinted:
"But those animals...why do I feel there's more to them than that?"

Instead of worrying about this, let's think about what we should do next.

Neshi scooped up a spoonful of almost solid porridge and gritted his teeth, saying:

"I'm saying, how long are we going to keep eating this stuff? Old Pi, you're the logistics officer, what's your take on this?"

Nate Nehi.

Young and impetuous, they didn't know how to restrain themselves.

Forbes continued writing.

"Believe me, His Highness and the Commander have already begun to address this matter."

Piroga sighed and raised his glass:
"Take it easy, mate is still tea."

Neshi gave him the Star Lake Guard's signature gesture—a middle finger.

The middle finger is used as a provocative gesture.

Forbes' standard-bearer's frowning record:
Duke Thales particularly enjoyed using the rare and unique customs of the North to cultivate a guard culture and enhance the cohesion and sense of belonging among his men.

"you know."

Bastia suddenly spoke up:

“I went home a few days ago, and everyone was pointing and whispering, hesitant to speak. Even my five-year-old nephew was avoiding me, as if I had suddenly become a leper.”

After these words were spoken, everyone fell silent.

“Why,” Bastia sighed, “why does His Highness insist on going against His Majesty? And you even followed him into the palace…”

The Forbes standard-bearer in the corner curled his lip:
Ade Bastia.

As always, conservative, timid, and full of worries.

thump.

The messenger, Toledo, coldly put down his bowl.

"Commander Marius has already convened a meeting and reprimanded the authorities regarding this issue."

Toledo answered calmly, but there was a chill in his tone:

"We have our own oath."

Everyone looked at each other, and the atmosphere in the dining room became somewhat awkward.

Wyatt, Grover, DD, and others were particularly silent.

“Of course I know that, but to be honest,” Neshi said sullenly, “my father wants to use his connections to get me transferred back to the Palace of Reconstruction.”

“My uncle has a different opinion,” Pesarossi of the Punishment Wing said, downing his mate tea in one gulp, his face contorted by the strong smell. “He believes the king only has one son, and even if he doesn’t like him, he’ll eventually…”

"Watch your words!" Toledo snapped.

"Come on, Toledo!"

Neshi shrugged and complained, "We've already been exiled to some deserted wilderness, and we have to be careful with our food. And you're telling me to be careful with my words? What, is the Flag Bearer hiding in a spider web to spy on us? What do you think, Uncle Hugo? You've been taking notes for months!"

"Get out." Hugo Forby didn't even look up, his pen continuing to flow:

Neshi likes to create trouble for herself.

"Then why don't you leave?"

DD suddenly spoke, his tone unusually uneasy:

"Why not go back to where you're used to it?"

Nehi and Pezarosi, along with Bastia, looked at each other, bewildered.

Golov stirred his spoon, not even looking up, and with a soft hum, took over the conversation:
"Yeah, going back to lick Big Dick Bro's lips?"

The nickname startled everyone for a moment, then burst into laughter.

"I know why."

Doyle stared blankly at the half-eaten bread in his hand, then flicked away another moth that had landed on it.
"Because in the Palace of Restoration, no lord would willingly tie his own hands and get into trouble at a royal banquet just to save a lazy and irresponsible guard."

He sighed:

"nobody."

The dining room fell silent once again.

Forbes tossed the dead moth from his notebook, silently observed the atmosphere around him, and wrote a few more words:

Danny Doyle.

He speaks seemingly carefree and unrestrained.

But humor, pain, emotion, and gratitude always manage to fit the atmosphere and strike a chord with others' emotions.

“Well then, thank you for your introduction, Officer Doyle.” Neshi gave a light hum.

“I know His Highness is still young and sincere,” the guard officer Komto, sitting in the corner, sighed softly, “but we must remind him that sincerity cannot buy everything.”

“Yes, His Highness has returned from the North and is used to the ways of the Northerners,” Piloga shook his head, “and has not yet suffered the hardships of the Stars—I hope he can get through this safely.”

Gianluca Commuto.

Leo Piloga.

Being passive and self-protective, yet...

Forby frowned, his pen hovering over the transition word, not writing anything further. He felt something was amiss.

"You're worrying too much."

In the end, it was Wyatt who spoke.

“I think what we see is different from what Your Highness sees.”

“But His Highness told me,” the prince’s attendant said firmly, “that if we see the sun, we will not be able to return to the cave.”

Neshi snorted softly:
"Thank you, Your Excellency, for speaking in a language I don't understand."

Kohuaya shook his head.

“You only really got to know him at that banquet,” Wyatt said absently, “but I’ve been with His Highness for six… more than seven years, no one has been there before me.”

A deep, guttural voice came from behind him:

"Humph."

“Sorry,” Wyatt rolled his eyes and waved to the masked man behind him, “Rolf was a little bit earlier than me…”

Rolf then turned his head.

“I followed him and saw him charge into the Northrends’ army, saw him walk back into Valhalla’s trap, saw him thwart the King’s plot to kill his own son, and saw him join hands with Chaman Lumba to dance with wolves.”

As everyone inside listened to Wyman's words, they unconsciously quieted down.

“Yes, Duke Thales usually appears tolerant and easy-going, even somewhat weak and vulnerable,” the attendant said, his eyes gleaming. “But only at crucial moments, such as royal banquets, will you truly understand what kind of person he is.”

DD shrugged.

No one speaks.

Only Forbes' notebooks kept turning pages:
Wyatt Castle.

The oldest, the closest, and the person who knows Duke Thales best.

"In short, I don't really want to go back, but since the castle gates haven't been repaired yet, anyone who wants to leave is welcome."

Golov said coldly:

"It will be the same after it's fixed."

These words sent a chill down everyone's spine.

“Yeah,” Doyle lay down on the pile of junk behind him, staring blankly at the cobwebs in the corner of the ceiling, “as if we have the money to fix the front door.”

Everyone burst into laughter.

Forbes squinted:

Danny Doyle.

The person who harmonizes and controls the team atmosphere.

As everyone in the dining room finished their dinner, they left in twos and threes, complaining as they went.

Hugo Forbes raised his sinister gaze and turned to the next page.

Thales Shining Star.

hesitate.

weak.

compromise.

mild.

childish.

capricious.

impulse.

Small-minded businessman.

Full of emotion.

Anger will be repaid.

To shirk responsibility and cheat.

His interests are unusual.

I enjoy being alone.

Make a fuss.

They never showed favor to their servants.

They don't fawn or act pretentiously.

Not good at establishing authority.

Regardless of etiquette or social status.

I dislike social interactions.

No need for bribery or co-optation.

They don't care about passing on glory.

Don't use collective slogans to brainwash people.

They were almost entirely incapable of using any of the means by which aristocratic rulers could win people's hearts.

Forbes then shifted his focus:
but.

His subordinates not only remained loyal, but became even more steadfast, and rumors could not sway them.

Surprisingly...

Forbes' eyes sharpened, and he wrote the final sentence:

What are the potential risks?

The next second, his finger slid along the spine of the notebook, and the words on it disappeared completely, as if they had seeped into the paper.

Only a blank space remains.

It took Marius three whole days to clear out a portion of the dilapidated Starlake Castle, making it barely habitable.

Surprisingly, Star Lake Castle is quite large and fully functional, with several different areas such as the main hall, Jackal Tower, Xunying Studio, Meditation Room, Climbing Hall, Zhiyao Area, and Dining Room, which are used for entertaining guests, living, reading, meditation, leisure, and banquets, respectively. There is also the lakeside monastery, which has been abandoned for ascetic practices but is still preserved, and Starlight Courtyard (commonly known as the Lumberyard), which was used for military garrisoning and training. All the rooms probably add up to no less than three or four hundred, not to mention the possible hidden passageways and secret rooms.

Thales still couldn't remember the exact number of ways to get from the main hall to the study and bedroom. Marius could only order the logistics wing and the guard wing to seal off the passages leading to the unknown or dilapidated areas, and then work overtime to correct and mark the maps of the old castle in different versions, constantly recording and unsealing the newly organized rooms and areas.

The good news was that Baron Quentin, the chief steward, was very easy to talk to. He had made arrangements in advance with the surrounding manors and towns, ensuring that the nominal lord, the Duke of Starlake, received enough food, clothing, and supplies so that Thales wouldn't starve to death in the castle. With the steward's help, the logistics wing continued to recruit servants, cooks, and gardeners from the manors on the condition that some of the rent and taxes be waived.

"Your fief is roughly half the size of a baronate—not the barons of the North or the Clifflands, of course; their lands are all uninhabited wastelands, almost the size of an earldom of the South Coast..."

That morning, Thales walked along the ridges of the field, accompanied by Baron Quentin, who had come from the capital and was talking incessantly about the field before him.

"Of the six estates, except for one which belongs to Sunset Monastery and is responsible for serving the gods, the other five all report to you. They include privately owned farms, leased fields, and historically significant public fields—but now they are all intricately intertwined..."

Baron Quentin was followed by five respectful butlers, each carrying a thick stack of ledgers and records. More attendants, guards, and servants followed behind, trembling with fear.

“The crops produced by each farm are of different uses, and the farmers alone are far from enough. We have hired a lot of workers to produce grapes, wool and other raw crops according to the season and weather. Of course, in another month, the wheat in the fields will also be harvested, and it will be very busy then, requiring even more manpower…”

Thales frowned as he listened.

They were in a farm belonging to Starlake Castle. Along the way, they saw farmers carrying farm tools and leading cattle and horses to the fields, or farm women carrying fur baskets to work in the workshops. They may not know Thales, but when they saw Baron Quentin and several stewards, their expressions changed slightly, and they all stepped back, whispering among themselves as they bowed their heads.

"There are also three historically significant villages or towns, whose history cannot be erased even by war. They regularly pay taxes to the royal family, but their economy is not very good recently. People prefer to go to Yongxing City or other large towns to find work and make a living..."

The palace steward walked and talked with great interest, knowing the details of the Xinghu Fort fiefdom like the back of his hand:

"Furthermore, your fiefdom is right next to the Wang Family Hunting Forest. If the villagers want to go there to hunt some game or cut some firewood, as long as they pay their share and don't do it too openly, we'll turn a blind eye. It's a form of production, after all, everyone has had a hard time since the Bloody Years..."

"Also remember that every farm and town has its own artisans, whose handicrafts, such as textiles, furniture, honey, candles, soaps, and certain rare items, are the easiest to overlook..."

Thales' brow furrowed more and more.

"These registers record the general situation of your estate, including the name of each farmer, their land and farming tools, various hired laborers and craftsmen, as well as the annual estimated output and rent and taxes due. From now on, it will be up to you to manage it..."

“Wow, Baron,” Thales, his head spinning, had to interrupt him, “I need to remember all of these things?”

Baron Quentin glanced at him and immediately understood the Duke's feelings. He sighed softly.

“Every respectable family has its own trusted steward to manage the accounts and collect rent, hire servants, supervise work, and look after the master’s food, clothing, and shelter. In fact, the larger the family, the more it needs a good steward—damn it, Cordero, don’t let me see your men slacking off again!”

The chief steward switched seamlessly from earnest advice to furious rage in a single second—he berated the steward of the local estate, who was sweating profusely, and turned to yell at several hired hands who were gossiping in the shade and pointing fingers at Thales and his party.

Steward Quentin turned around angrily:

"Believe me, in these farms, from farmers to workers, from stewards to overseers, they are lazy, cunning, rough, and careless in their work, yet greedy, mercenary, arrogant, and adept at being lazy, deceiving their superiors, and racking their brains to do less work and get more money..."

"You need the shrewdness and wisdom of a fox and the strength and majesty of a lion to control these ingrates."

“It seems that you are the truly indispensable person in this land,” Thales said with deep emotion, speaking sincerely.

Baron Quentin coughed, his words humble and respectful, yet his face betrayed a hint of undisguised joy.

"Oh, Your Highness, you wouldn't dare say that. I'm just grateful for the late King's trust."

"So, butler?" Thales looked at the head steward with hopeful eyes.

Quentin snapped out of his daze:

“Oh right, and we, you could say, are one of the stewards of the Shining Star royal family… For this, I need to know the output, harvest, and labor force of every single inch of the royal family’s lands and estates…”

Thales immediately backed down:
"In that case, I think it's inappropriate for me, a newcomer, to overstep my bounds in these matters..."

Baron Quentin reacted extremely quickly:

"I completely understand, after all, you are a very busy person..."

"Then everything will remain the same, but I will allocate your rent separately and have the stewards of each estate and the mayors of each village and town send it to Xinghu Fort regularly, including monthly grain, firewood, and textiles... Of course, the variety and sophistication of the food, clothing, and daily necessities cannot compare with those in Yongxing City..."

Thales waved generously, indicating that the Duke of Starlake should share weal and woe with his subjects.

Seeing the prince's nonchalant attitude, Quentin couldn't help but sigh:

"In the future, perhaps a mistress will take care of these things for you, but unfortunately, you are the heir to the throne, and the future mistress is destined to be the queen. The noble families of the Restoration Palace, the capital, and even the whole country will keep her busy enough, and she probably won't have time to pay attention to these trivial matters... You still need to find a suitable candidate..."

That's what they say, but in reality, there wasn't much for Thales to worry about, because Baron Quentin had already arranged everything before he arrived. The public and private taxes in the vicinity of Starlake Castle—land tax, poll tax, hunting tax, including transaction tax, travel tax, etc.—which were previously collected by tax collectors from the tax office, would all be transferred to Starlake Castle starting this year.

However, with limited land, getting rich overnight is out of the question.

"I have no such extravagant hopes; I just want to make a living."

Thales closed the thinnest ledger with a headache:

"As long as nothing major goes wrong, that's fine."

Faced with such an unambitious heir to the throne, Chief Steward Quentin couldn't help but sigh:

"I think it won't happen unless you order the restoration of the right of first night."

"Thank you, Steward."

Thales looked at the court steward who had served his grandfather:

“I know that it was your intentional assistance in speeding up the handover that allowed me to receive this land so smoothly.”

Baron Quentin paused for a moment.

He closed the ledger and handed it to the other stewards, telling them to all stay away.

"Do you really think that I am indispensable to these lands and can decide their ownership?"

Baron Quentin looked at Thales with a complicated expression:
"I think he still cares about you."

Thales' smile froze.

"Maybe."

Thales reached into his pocket and touched the "Gurtaksa".

It feels cold to the touch, and the sharp spikes prick your hands.

"Maybe."

He chuckled softly and decisively withdrew his hand.

I'm writing the next chapter, around midnight tonight.
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(End of this chapter)