I, the prince in distress, send money

Chapter 455 A Ghost That Is Still Alive

In the latter half of the night, the players became the pillars of the Kingdom of Minicia. At the cost of two-thirds casualties, they successfully delayed the noble private army's takeover of the island and inflicted some casualties.

At dawn, the Imperial Guard, who should have appeared to confront the nobles' private armies, finally emerged from their camps in the city as if waking from a deep sleep, and confronted the nobles' private armies in the city...

Yes, it was a standoff; they didn't fight. The Royal Guards maintained unnecessary restraint, which greatly displeased the remaining players.

They then gathered privately, and the leaders held a small meeting.

……

The faint light of dawn barely dispelled the darkness of night, draping the dilapidated streets and buildings of the island in a hazy gray cloak.

The smoke of battle had not yet dissipated, and the stench of blood mixed with the damp sea breeze created a nauseatingly sweet aroma.

Dorok leaned against a half-collapsed barricade, breathing heavily.

His finely crafted chainmail was covered with sword and blade marks and dried bloodstains, one corner of his horned helmet was cut off, and a wound on his forehead was covered with a dark red scab.

Beside him, only seven or eight other players remained, equally disheveled and injured.

The enthusiastic group of over twenty people from last night is now reduced to this few.

They paid the price of having two-thirds of their comrades offline to sleep, successfully instilling chaos and fear in the hearts of those well-equipped noble private armies, delaying their takeover of key facilities, and even causing them to distrust each other and break out in several small-scale internal conflicts.

However, the expected reinforcements, the regular guards of the Kingdom of Minicia, only arrived late, as dawn was breaking.

And it was merely a standoff.

From their hiding place, they could vaguely see at the end of the street that squads of guards soldiers wearing armor with the coat of arms of the Miniese royal family were already lined up, a hundred meters away from another noble private army. The atmosphere was tense, like a fully drawn bowstring.

But there was not the slightest intention to start a war. No officer stepped forward to rebuke the other side for treason, and no soldier raised their gun to aim.

The two sides stood there like two cross-eyed stone statues, locked in a stalemate, with only the flags fluttering in the morning breeze.

"Hold!"

A player with blood-stained bandages haphazardly wrapped around his arm spat out a curse.

"We fought tooth and nail all night, almost all of us were wiped out, and they just come out here posing? Are they some kind of ancient Greek sculptures?"

Another player, leaning against the broken wall, was carefully reloading his flintlock pistol without looking up, and gave a cold laugh.

"Otherwise what? Do you really expect these NPCs to help you conquer the world? The system is already setting them to just show up and make a brief appearance at this point."

"fart!"

Dorok let out a low growl, his voice hoarse with exhaustion and anger.

He pointed with the tip of his sword at the gleaming armor of the Imperial Guards in the distance.

"Look at them, their equipment is no worse than those noble private armies, and their numbers are not small either. If they really want to quell the rebellion, they should rush over now and slaughter all those noble lackeys who are taking advantage of the chaos, instead of flirting with him like this!"
This is their city, they don't care. Our fighting to the death last night is a complete joke!

His words resonated with other players.

"Dorok is right, something's not right."

One player, whose ID was "Owl," was relatively calmer; he wiped the soot off his face.
"According to the game's background, the Royal Guard is an elite force directly under the royal family and the core of the royalists. No matter how incompetent Charles is, he would not allow the Royal Guard to turn a blind eye to the private army of nobles blatantly robbing royal property."

This isn't just dereliction of duty, this is blatant condoning, even... complicity?

A moment of silence followed. A terrifying thought began to surface in the minds of these surviving veteran players.

The player who had complained earlier widened his eyes and lowered his voice.

"...Do you guys think that Charles...did actually get beaten to death by the brats?"

These words struck everyone like a piece of ice.

Dorok's face was terribly gloomy.

"Only this explanation makes sense. If Charles were still alive, even if he were a pig and didn't know what to do, the Royal Guard would have to show some respect for the monarchy, at least put on a show of fighting a battle. But in this situation..."

He scoffed, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

"They are just maintaining order and preventing chaos from escalating, or rather, waiting for a new master."

No one genuinely wanted to risk their life for that king who was probably already dead.

"The nobles dare to send their private troops into the city so openly; they probably already have a plan for how to deal with the Imperial Guard."

The owl analyzed.

“The top brass of the Guards must have been infiltrated, or they themselves are wavering and watching. Whoever makes the first move will be the sinner who disrupts stability and will become the target of public criticism. So they choose to confront each other and choose ‘restraint’.”

"Then what are we?"

A younger player couldn't help but ask, his face showing anger at being used.

"Why did we fight so fiercely last night? Was it to buy these old guards who were too afraid to fight time to come out and pose for photos?"

Dorok slammed his fist into the broken bricks beside him.

"For the mission rewards, for the experience! For the fucking... gaming experience!"

But even he himself sounded a bit unsure of himself. He had taken the initiative to step forward, wanting to maintain balance and make the fight more intense, but instead he was used as a pawn by the NPCs and then left standing around, which felt extremely bad.

He stood up, gazing at the standoff, his eyes cold.

"It seems that Charles is really dead, which is why the Guards are acting like this."

He looked back at his remaining companions, players whose eyes still burned with resentment and curiosity.

“Brothers, these idiots won’t move, let’s help them move… Send a few fearless guys to fire a few shots at those guards, preferably kill a few officers, and force them to move.”

Dorok's face broke into a smile that was typical of players, a mixture of exhaustion, excitement, and a mischievous urge.

“As long as someone dies and blood is drawn, even those spineless eunuchs will fire on the nobles’ private armies.”

Upon hearing this, the remaining players' eyes lit up instantly, their fatigue and complaints vanishing, replaced by an anticipation of chaos.

The punishment of death?
That's only temporary. Missing out on the opportunity to personally change the course of the main storyline is what's truly unbearable!
On the island of Dawn, amidst a bizarre standoff and the players' rekindled enthusiasm for causing trouble, an even more uncertain day dawned.

The mystery surrounding Charles's death, like a thick fog at sea, shrouded the city.

……

The Royal Palace of Minnesota, deep within its courtyards. In stark contrast to the bloodshed, confrontation, and suspicion outside, a near-stagnant, deathly silence now permeates the depths of the palace. The guards and maids have vanished, leaving only a handful of loyal guards remaining.

The heavy velvet curtains blocked out the light of dawn, leaving only a few stubborn rays of light that cast pale patches on the cold stone floor and the ornate but lifeless furniture.

King Charles, the nominal ruler of Miniscia, paced anxiously in his study like a caged beast.

His bathrobe was stained with wine, his hair was disheveled, his eyes were sunken, and his once meticulously groomed beard looked unkempt. His face had an unhealthy flush, not from anger, but from a desperate, escapist urge on the verge of collapse.

"Useless! All of you are useless, deaf, blind!"

He suddenly grabbed a beautiful crystal ink bottle from the table, intending to smash it to the ground, but his arm fell limply halfway down.

He didn't even dare to make too much noise, because the palace that had once symbolized his power now felt more like an exquisite and soundproof prison.

"I'm not dead, I'm still alive, you idiots, open your eyes and see!"

He growled at the empty room, his voice hoarse and trembling.

Overnight, everything changed.

Just yesterday, he was secretly pleased with his meticulously planned scheme. He intended to have his double walk outside the palace, inadvertently letting others know that he was contacting the high priest of the Church of the Sea God, intending to let those treacherous nobles know that the Church was on his side.

Thus, even if the high priest of the Church of the Sea God had other ideas, under the pressure of those nobles, he could only stand on his side and serve him.

This should have been a clever game of power.

But he went too far.

He didn't know where the fatal mistake occurred. The double, who was supposed to leave the palace and be discovered by noble spies, was shot and killed inside the palace.

Worst of all, before Charles could react, the news of his assassination and death in the palace spread like wildfire throughout the island, carrying a terrifyingly persuasive weight... In full view of everyone, the king was shot in the head, his brains flying out.

And so, everything spiraled out of control.

That evening, the nobles no longer cautiously probed the city, but instead unhesitatingly dispatched their private armies straight to the heart of the city, ready to divide up the biggest slice of the pie.

And his guards... Charles's heart clenched at the thought of his guards.

He tried everything.

He personally wrote several strongly worded orders, stamped them with his imperial seal, and ordered the commander of the Imperial Guard to immediately leave the camp to quell the rebellion, with no exceptions for those killed.

He sent his most trusted court attendants to try to sneak out of the palace to deliver a message.

The results of it?
The first servant never returned.

The second servant returned, covered in wounds, and tearfully recounted how he had been attacked by unidentified people as soon as he left the palace gates, his orders were stolen, and the attackers even sneered at him.

"Save your breath, Charles's ghost can't scare us!"

He even tried using carrier pigeons!

But those well-trained pigeons either never returned, or they brought back notes from the nobles blaming each other or offering false condolences, filled with "mourning" for the "former king" and "concern" for the "future of the kingdom."

There was also a test of Prince Charles's abilities.

No one believed he was still alive!

"His Majesty……"

An old eunuch shakily carried in a cup of water, his face filled with fear and pity.

"Please...please have some more water..."

"What water!" Charles suddenly swung his arm, knocking over the water glass. The sound of shattering glass was particularly jarring in the silence.

“They’re all out there looting my cities, my treasuries, my food, while my army… the army I pay to support, just sit there and watch!”

He pointed out the window, his fingers trembling violently.

"Are they waiting for me to die completely?! Or are they waiting for their new master to give them a reward?!"

The old eunuch was so frightened that he knelt down on the ground, trembling.

Charles was breathing heavily, his chest heaving violently.

An unprecedented sense of isolation and helplessness enveloped him. He had spent half his life scheming, treating nobles, ministers, and even his family as pawns, but he never imagined that one day he would be completely erased and ignored.

His existence, his orders, everything about him, was replaced by a more plausible and convenient rumor of his death.

He was alive, yet already "socially dead." This absurd and terrifying situation was driving him almost insane.

He doesn't even dare to easily reveal that he's still alive.

What would those noble private armies that stormed into the city do if they knew he was still alive?
Will they welcome him with surprise and then put him back on the throne?
Or... to turn the rumor into fact, should we simply storm into the palace and turn him into a real corpse?
He didn't dare to gamble.

He was all too familiar with the greed and ambition that gleamed in the eyes of those nobles.

"Can't get in touch...can't get in touch with anyone...they don't believe it..."

Charles slumped back into his high-backed chair, ran his hands through his hair, and groaned in pain.

His schemes and calculations proved utterly vulnerable in the face of absolute power and simple rumors of death.

His only hope now seems extremely slim and ridiculous.

They hoped that among the Royal Guard commanders, there might be one or two stubborn, loyal, or intelligent enough individuals who could see through the rumor and have the courage to stand against all the nobles for the sake of a king who might still be alive, without explicit orders.

Or...rely on those unknown thugs who caused such chaos last night?
He vaguely heard the guards report that a small group of extremely fierce and strange fighters had severely damaged several noble private armies.

Who are they? What do they want?

Charles muttered to himself, a sickly, desperate glint in his eyes.

"If they can create even more chaos... to the point that the Royal Guard has to take action... or to the point that the nobles completely tear each other apart..."

But he immediately shook his head in despair. Placing his hopes on a mob of unknown forces was more insane and dangerous than any of his previous political gambles.

The light of dawn shone through the gaps in the curtains, illuminating his pale and desperate face.

The King of Minicia was still alive, yet the world had declared him dead. Trapped in his palace, he watched helplessly as his kingdom crumbled outside his gates, and all his voices sank without a trace, like stones sinking into the sea.

He played his own tricks and became a ghost himself; perhaps this is the greatest irony of fate for him.

(End of this chapter)