I, the prince in distress, send money

Chapter 456 Life-saving straw
The midday sun scorched the streets of the island, evaporating the bloodshed and dampness of the previous night into a stifling, suffocating heatwave.

The strange and tense standoff continues.

The deep blue plate armor robes of the Miniese Guard and the mixed uniforms of the noble private army formed two distinct yet static bands of color in the sunlight.

The officers stood at the front of the formation, their eyes filled with suspicion and calculation as they exchanged glances. The lower-ranking soldiers gripped their weapons tightly, sweat dripping from their foreheads, their nerves taut like a bowstring about to snap.

Behind the scenes, the generals and noble representatives of both sides might be in a safe, secluded room, wiping away sweat as they argue endlessly about whether to support Charles's young and weak son as a puppet to establish a "constitutional monarchy," or to simply tear off the mask completely and establish an "aristocratic republic," plotting how to divide up the last pieces of flesh and blood of this kingdom.

However, the balance on the street is as fragile as a thin layer of ice.

"Tsk, these bastards, they've been making a racket all morning, but haven't said a word."

Dorok lay on the tiled roof of a three-story house, slowly scanning the ranks of the Imperial Guard below through the gaps in the low wall with the sights of his flintlock musket.

The bloodstains on his face hadn't been wiped off yet, but his eyes were filled with only impatient rage.

"We still need to lend them a hand."

He took a steady breath, held it, and the sights of his flintlock pistol were firmly locked onto a guards officer in lieutenant's uniform who was gesturing to his subordinates.

boom!
A crisp, solitary gunshot ripped through the midday gloom, echoing between the buildings on both sides of the street, sounding particularly abrupt and terrifying.

The lieutenant's body trembled violently, a burst of blood erupted from his chest, his face still bearing the stern expression he had when giving the lecture, but his eyes were instantly replaced by shock and emptiness, and then he fell straight backward.

"Enemy attack!"

"There are snipers!"

"On the roof! On the left side of the roof!"

After a brief silence, both sides erupted in a huge commotion. The soldiers on both sides instinctively crouched down and frantically pointed their matchlock guns, which were still burning with matchlocks, at the rooftops and windows around them.

The officers shouted themselves hoarse trying to quell the chaos and order the soldiers to maintain their formation.

"Don't panic, stay calm, find cover!"

A captain of the Imperial Guard shouted, drew his sword, and scanned the surroundings warily.

"It wasn't one of our people who fired the shot, calm down!"

A commander of a nobleman's private army also hurriedly shouted at his restless subordinates.

The chaos appears to have been temporarily suppressed.

Clearly, officers on both sides knew that their respective high command did not want a conflict to break out in this way at this time.

"Grab the guy who fired the shot, he's on that roof over there!"

Someone shouted, pointing out the location of Dorok, and the noblemen's private soldiers below the house instinctively sprang into action, preparing to arrest the one who fired the shot.

But how could the players possibly let them have their way?
Just as the officers on both sides were trying to control the situation...

boom!boom!boom!boom!
More gunshots suddenly rang out from all directions.

White smoke billowed from windows facing the street, from rooftops further away, and even from some dark corner piled with garbage, all at the same time.

Lead bullets whistled through the air, indiscriminately striking both groups of people!
A pikeman from the Imperial Guard at the front clutched his neck and fell to the ground. Almost simultaneously, a arquebusier from a nobleman's private army opposite him was also shot through the shoulder by a bullet that seemed to come from nowhere, and rolled on the ground screaming in agony.

"They opened fire! The Guards opened fire!!"

A sharp and inflammatory voice suddenly rang out from the middle of the noble private army's ranks... It was a player who had successfully infiltrated the ranks. He was wearing a tall helmet that covered his eyes and a gray-blue military uniform, looking just like the noble private soldiers next to him.

"Fight back! For the sake of our lord, slaughter all these royalist lackeys!!!"

The player was shouting incoherently. He didn't know who the original owner of the military uniform he was wearing had served, but calling him "sir" was definitely the right thing to do.

"Bullshit, they started it..."

Some officers on the Imperial Guard side also tried to defend themselves.

But it's too late.

The seeds of doubt and fear had already been sown, and this volley of sniper shots from an unknown direction, aimed at both sides, along with that perfectly timed, maliciously framed scream, became the final straw that broke the camel's back.

Among the crowd, several private soldiers, whose nerves were already stretched to the limit and who were holding matchlock guns, instinctively raised their guns and pulled the triggers after hearing the shouts of "counterattack" and seeing their comrades fall to the ground.

The distinctive firing sounds of old-fashioned matchlock guns rang out intermittently. Although inaccurate, the lead bullets struck the shields of the guards and the armor of the front-line soldiers with a sickening thud.

"Damn it, they actually dared to do it!"

A sergeant in the front rank of the Guards looked at the dents on his shield and his eyes instantly turned red.

"Fire, free fire!"

It is unknown which mid-ranking officer of the Imperial Guard was so enraged by the attack that he lost his composure and issued a fatal order.

This time, it was a truly large-scale volley. Although it was rushed, the flames and lead bullets spewed from dozens of standard-issue flintlock muskets of the Imperial Guard instantly wiped out the dozen or so men in the front row of the noble private army!

The smell of blood suddenly became stronger.

"For the King!!!"

Slogans erupted among the guards... even though they believed their king might be dead, it was still their way of distinguishing friend from foe.

"kill!!!"

The noble private armies were also in complete uproar.

At this point, any explanation would be futile; the only way to survive was to kill the enemy! Private soldiers from different families were now forcibly united by a common enemy, swords drawn and spears pointed forward.

"Gunslingers back! Pikemen forward!"

"Sword and shield bearers, follow me and break through their lines!"

The officers' roars finally turned into battle orders, but now they were fighting for survival, not for any political ideals.

The brief, suffocating standoff was over.

The street quickly turned into a bloody slaughterhouse. Before the white smoke from the gunfire had even dissipated, the soldiers on both sides, wielding melee weapons, collided violently like two surging tides!
The clanging of metal, the dull thud of blades piercing flesh, the dying screams, the angry roars... all the most brutal sounds of war instantly filled the street.

On the other side, an owl on the rooftop watched the chaotic battle below with satisfaction, and deftly reloaded its flintlock pistol.

"That's right."

He grinned, revealing a set of white teeth, and shouted at Dorok, who was also loading ammunition on the roof next to him.

"If you don't take action, how will you gain experience and good equipment?!"

Dorok calmly aimed at a noble officer below who was giving orders, pulled the trigger, watched the target fall to the ground, and then spoke indifferently.

"Get to work. The more you stir things up, the easier it will be to catch the fish in the water."

More players are hiding throughout the chaotic battlefield, like cunning piranhas, occasionally popping up to take a bite, adding fuel to the fire of this already out-of-control conflict.

Taiwan, once the most prosperous city in the Kingdom of Minicia, is now its heart and streets distorted and boiling over by the flames of civil war.

And the people who started all of this are enjoying it.

……

In the shadows of a nearby narrow alley.

The air here was stagnant and cold, creating an eerie isolation from the deafening shouts and smell of gunpowder on the main street a hundred meters away.

A slender, upright figure seemed to melt into the shadows in the corner, almost blending into the environment.

He wore an unremarkable dark gray coarse cloth coat, covered by an old cloak of the same color, the hood pulled low, revealing only his taut jawline and a pair of eyes that were startlingly sharp in the shadows.

He was none other than Grey Shadow, the most secretive head of King Charles's intelligence service. At this moment, he was silently observing the sudden and rapidly escalating chaotic battle on the main street.

His brow furrowed slightly, not out of fear or disgust, but out of a professional scrutiny and... a hint of barely perceptible surprise.

"...It's too accurate."

He spoke almost silently to himself, his voice low and hoarse.

Grey Shadow's original plan was to ignite the civil war at the moment when both sides reached their limit of patience, ordering his spies, along with a few guards soldiers who were still loyal to the king, to use sniper shots and frame others.

Only by completely breaking ties between the Royal Guard and the nobles' private armies, resulting in bloodshed, can the power of all potential traitors be weakened to the greatest extent possible, thus securing a glimmer of hope for the king who is trapped in the palace and is truly still alive.

However, someone beat them to it.

Moreover, it was done almost exactly as he had envisioned, and even more efficiently!

That first sniper shot, aimed at the Guards officer, was decisive and ruthless, breaking the stalemate.

The ensuing multi-directional, indiscriminate shooting perfectly framed and exacerbated the conflict.

That final, highly inflammatory roar, emanating from within the private army, was the finishing touch, completely igniting the powder keg.

This is no coincidence, nor could it have been planned by a mob of rabble.

The gray shadow's gaze, sharp as a hawk's, swept swiftly across the windows and rooftops where gunfire had been fired.

He caught a glimpse of several figures, their movements swift and unpredictable. The way they dodged and moved after firing revealed a skill and indifference that seemed out of place on this battlefield… They didn't appear to be concerned with the number of casualties, but rather deliberately maintained the intensity of the chaos. And then there was that guy shouting from among the private army… Gray Shadow's lips twitched almost imperceptibly.

After shouting the slogan, instead of charging forward, the guy sneakily retreated to the back of the crowd and even pilfered the money bag of a fallen soldier next to him!
This is not the behavior of soldiers or suicide bombers.

"A bunch of troublemakers."

Gray Shadow drew a conclusion, his eyes becoming deep.

"Their motives are unclear, their methods are ruthless, their actions are highly efficient, and they have no principles whatsoever."

But his tense nerves relaxed slightly as a result, and a cold, twisted joy even welled up inside him.

Regardless of who these people are or what they ultimately want, everything they are doing right now is helping King Charles.

They are destroying the armies of the traitors who are trying to divide the kingdom in the most direct and violent way.

"very good……"

The gray figure chuckled softly, the sound particularly eerie in the alleyway.

"It saved us a lot of trouble."

He tilted his head slightly and whispered to the heavy shadows behind him.

"The plan has been changed, giving the sardines a chance to leave the battlefield."

A few almost inaudible responses came from the shadows, like the flicking of a viper's tongue.

"Your task is no longer to light the powder keg, but..."

The gray shadow cast its gaze back to the bloody battlefield, its eyes as cold as iron.

"Live, only by living can you continue to serve the king."

"Yes." A concise response came from the shadows. Several figures, even more indistinct than the gray shadows, spread out silently like ghosts, using the blind spots in the alleys and buildings to quickly infiltrate the boiling main battlefield.

They need to signal their own people to retreat.

Gray Shadow turned his gaze into the distance again, looking at that hell on earth, a cold smile curving his lips.

Your Majesty, can you see this? Although you are trapped in the palace and your orders cannot be sent out, fate... or rather, a group of madmen of unknown origin, are fighting for you in their own way.

He didn't linger; his figure slid backward into the deeper darkness like a true shadow and disappeared.

His battlefield wasn't here; he needed to find a way to relay everything that was happening here to the almost desperate king in the palace.

The chaos on Taiwan, fueled by the reckless actions of players and the machinations of truly professional spies, is accelerating its slide into an even deeper and more unpredictable abyss.

……

That afternoon, in the deepest secret chamber of the Miniscia Royal Palace.

The flickering candlelight cast King Charles's distorted silhouette onto the cold stone wall.

He had just listened to Gray Shadow's report, delivered in a low voice and as objectively as possible, describing how the street standoff was ignited by a group of mysterious "troublemakers" with sniper shots and incitement, and how it had now escalated into a chaotic battle that swept across the main streets.

This has led to the Imperial Guard and the private armies of nobles being mutually destructive.

The despair and mania on Charles's face gradually faded, replaced by an extremely complex expression, a mixture of astonishment, disbelief, and a morbid excitement, like someone grabbing the last piece of driftwood before drowning.

His thin fingers gripped the armrests of the chair tightly, his knuckles turning white.

"They...aren't our people?"

His voice was hoarse as he repeatedly confirmed this crucial information.

"Absolutely not, Your Majesty."

The gray shadow's voice came from the shadows, steady and certain.

"Their modus operandi...I've never seen anything like it before."

"very good."

Charles mumbled the word repeatedly, but a terrifying glint suddenly flashed in his eyes.

"Great, great! Whoever they are, as long as they can tear my enemies apart, they're all good people now!"

He stood up abruptly, trembling slightly with excitement.

"What do they want? Money? Treasures? Land? Titles?!"

He was practically screaming.

"I'll give it all to them, as long as they can keep going and do even bigger!"

The gray figure paused for a moment, seemingly assessing the feasibility of the command.

"Your Majesty, contacting them is extremely risky. We cannot ascertain their origins or ultimate purpose..."

"Their purpose? Their purpose is to create chaos, and right now, what I need most is chaos!"

Charles interrupted him, an unnatural blush rising on his face.

“They’re not helping me, I know. They probably don’t even know I exist, but objectively they’re doing what I need most, and that’s enough!”

He paced rapidly, his thoughts becoming unusually clear and cold.

"This chaos cannot be allowed to stop; it must be escalated, from the soldiers' melee to the collapse of the command structure!"

He stopped abruptly, staring at the gray figure.

"Find them, contact them, by any means necessary, and tell them that I have a mission for them, with rewards beyond imagination!"

"What is Your Majesty's mission?"

"Assassination!"

Charles spat out the word through gritted teeth, a vicious glint in his eyes.

"Those nobles who led troops into the city, Earl Hawke, Viscount Leonard, and that opportunistic Marquis Mario!"

Their army is currently embroiled in street fighting, while they themselves must be hiding in what they believe to be safe places, such as a mistress's mansion or a secret underground chamber of a business guild.

He became more and more excited as he spoke, as if he could already see the traitors' blood splattered on the spot.

"Let those troublemakers find them and kill them. Once their army loses its leader, it will fall apart, greatly reducing the pressure on the Imperial Guard, and they might even be able to take control of the situation!"

Grey Shadow listened quietly, knowing just how insane and audacious this plan was. To place one's hopes on a group of completely uncontrollable madmen to carry out a mission that was virtually impossible.

But this is indeed the only way to break the deadlock at present.

“I will try to find them, or… make them find me.”

The gray figure spoke slowly.

"I will provide information on the target's possible hiding places and the general situation of the guard forces. But I cannot provide any further support; the sardines must prioritize ensuring the final safety of the palace."

"Yes, that's enough!"

Charles waved his hand, looking somewhat impatient.

“Tell them that for every one they succeed, I will reward them with a thousand pieces of gold… no, ten thousand pieces of gold. If they succeed in three, I will make their leader an earl and give them the richest territory in the kingdom!”
As long as they want it, and as long as I can afford it!

Charles is making promises that may not even exist, mortgaging a future that could never come to pass.

"I understand, Your Majesty."

The gray figure bowed slightly.

"I will try to deliver this message, but Your Majesty, please prepare for the worst. They may not be trustworthy, and may even turn against us."

"Trust? Hahahaha!"

Charles let out a sharp, mournful laugh.

"What do I still have that others can take advantage of? Besides an empty promise and this crown that I can barely wear?"

"Go, Grey Shadow. Go and make a deal with those messengers from hell. This is...our last chance."

His voice eventually carried a hint of weariness and resignation, but more than that, it was the madness of a gambler betting everything.

The gray figure said no more, and its form once again merged into the shadows and disappeared.

Charles stood alone in the dimly lit secret room, listening to the distant, seemingly more intense shouts of battle and the sound of gunfire.

Those sounds were no longer the death knell of despair; to his ears, they seemed to have transformed into the prelude to his counterattack, played from hell.

He whispered to himself, as if casting a curse, or perhaps a prayer.

"Kill... the more chaotic the killing, the better... drag those traitors... all of them into hell..."

(End of this chapter)