Kingdom's Bloodline, page 439
"I don't know yet, maybe I'll ask Tampa for a bed." While saying this, Thales cast a fierce glare at Tampa. "...As long as I have enough money with me."
Tampa gleefully showed his teeth. Dean laughed, too.
"You heard them. Blood Whistle reserved the whole tavern." The bald mercenary looked at the people in My Home. "Come with me, we rented a small house nearby. It was once the temporary quarters for our group. It will… at least accommodate you for a night."
When he saw Dean's expression, a thought struck Thales' mind. He slowly clenched his fists, but unfurled them afterwards.
Thales showed him a smile. "Sounds great, since I don't have anywhere else to go to."
Dean waved his hand, then gestured that they can now leave. Thales moved off the bar counter and carried his own luggage.
Thales shook his head at Tampa, then turned to say seriously, "Hey, Dean... Thank you... for… all that you have done for me, from the Great Desert until now."
Dean looked at him for about a few seconds. "You're welcome. I'm also planning for my own future." Dean examined him. He then said jokingly, "You're an aristocrat, so you might be rich, right?"
Thales replied with a smile.
"But before that…" Dean frowned, and looked at the other side of the tavern. "How on earth did he manage to drink so much?"
Thales followed Dean's line of sight and stared. Quick Rope was walking unsteadily, and he stumbled about before falling headfirst onto a table, bringing on himself some unkind looks from the customers.
"We ran into too many things in the Great Desert." Thales sighed gently.
"Yes." Dean frowned even more. "For a newbie who has only gone out with us for the second time."
When a bunch of customers rolled their sleeves up with the intention of giving Quick Rope an unforgettable night, Dean turned around and walked towards him.
"Come, give me a hand. We can't let him stay here."
Thales shrugged and followed.
After a few hours, Thales lay straight in the small house that belonged to Dante's Greatsword. As he felt the hard sensation of the bed under his back, he stared blankly at the moonlight shining through the window.
The mercenaries' quarters was, just as Dean said, not very impressive. It was a small house with four beds, mud walls, a thatched roof, and spider webs all around. The fence looked like it was going to fall apart, and even the simple outhouse made Thales remember the moments when he was staying at the Abandoned Houses.
Still, it was better than staying outside.
Ten meters away from him was Quick Rope, and his steady breathing traveled to Thales' ears. It came together with some drunken speech and sleep-talk.
Dean was sleeping in the room next to theirs. Old Hammer went to look for his old pals whom he had not met for a long time. They were most probably going to drink until daylight. Mickey had never liked staying in a crowd; the Barren Bone kin were few and were looked upon unkindly in the camp, so they had their own places to go to. As for Louisa, according to Dean, she went to her mother and her stepfather's house.
Thales breathed in deeply. He could not believe it, but he escaped Dragon Clouds City and passed through the Great Desert, though it was just a small part at its periphery. He lived through the Black Track, fought the Star Killer, the Raven of Death, and even experienced hunger, loneliness, scorching heat, cold, orcs, and mercenaries. And finally, he had returned to Constellation's territory.
He was back.
Thales looked at the melancholic moon hanging above the Great Desert, enjoying the silence in Blade Fangs Camp during its curfew.
Quick Rope flipped over and fell off the bed, but he was still muttering something and did not wake up.
Thales exhaled and sat up.
With hell's senses, he could clearly hear Dean's breathing as he slept in the room next to his.
In the dark, he looked at Quick Rope's figure forming a complicated K shape on the ground. He smiled, and shook his head.
'This group of people, mercenaries… What kind of life do they live?' Thales thought in his daze.
The prince slowly sucked in two breaths, and in the next second, he grabbed his luggage and the Crossbow of Time—at the corner of the wall—before he stood up with light footsteps.
He carefully walked over Quick Rope's body. Without making a single sound, he walked out of the shabby and dilapidated hall, and opened another door.
Before his eyes, a bald and fit man slept on his side on the bed with his arms crossed. His chest rose and fell evenly, and there was a gentle noise coming out from his nose. He slept without moving, unlike a certain Quick Rope in the next room.
Thales shut the door and walked to the man's bed. The prince stared at him for a very long time without making a sound. He remained standing there for so long that the moon even started to move. Dean's breathing remained deep.
Finally, Thales' face started to turn cold. He stared at Dean's wide back, then slowly reached out to Dean's waist… and pulled out the JC dagger.
The sharp edge was shining with a weak light. Thales could not help but frown slightly.
It had been six years. This sharp dagger was given to him by Jala, and had been with him for six years.
Quide, the Blood Clan, Dragon Clouds City, the calamities, Lampard, the Great Desert…
During those six years, no matter what kind of dangers he met, every time he reached out to touch this dagger, he felt its cold and firm texture and a strange sense of relief would appear in his heart.
It was a strength that made him to grit his teeth, square his shoulders, and face everything before him. However, those instances were all out of self-defence. He was forced to retaliate and fight back.
This time…
On this day, Thales suddenly realized that when blood flowed down the sharp edge of the dagger, the surface of the dagger revealed not just its name, but also its nature...
...as a weapon for murder.
Every time, when Thales steeled his resolve and built his courage, when he swung the dagger and stabbed his enemy, he would be reminded of the sensation when he first took a life using the JC dagger: the slippery, boiling blood flowing through his gauntlet, spurting onto his forearms, and then flowing to his chest before it squirted at his face.
'But those sensations have never felt as prominent now. Taking away a life is so easy; it's not like I haven't killed anyone before. In fact, it's quite the opposite, I've killed many,' Thales thought in his heart. 'Starting from my life in Abandoned House in Lower City District, to the assassination on King's Street, and to the bloody life-and-death fight in the Great Desert…'
Nevertheless, he had always deliberately ignored the feeling from taking a life for a long time now.
He did not have a choice, did he; kill, or be killed.
Thales raised the JC dagger slowly, narrowed his eyes, and positioned the tip of the dagger at Dean's neck.
With his hell's senses, he could sense that the blood in Dean's carotid artery was boiling with strength and full of life. Thales still had his dagger raised. He aimed at Dean's neck with no expression on his face.
He had no choice. He secretly told himself that. A simple stab, and he could then deny the man's meaning in life, strip him of his existence, make his value of continuing to live in this world disappear. He will then be gone, dead, non-existent, and would never again appear in any place, before anyone, at any time.
Just as what Quick Rope said: He would then never have any thoughts, feelings, conscience, and nothing would be left of him. He would know nothing as well. He would disappear completely and lose everything from then on, including his future and all his prospects.
Thales came to his senses and looked at the sleeping, living man before his eyes.
He just needed a light jab… and everything about this man will disappear immediately.
As for the dagger-wielder himself, Thales, he could get much more. Vengeance? Benefit? Or just pure satisfaction?
Or, the pleasure you will feel once you got rid of your opponent, bringing all the unhappiness, disappointment, hurt, pain, and depression you experienced because of him to an end with the opponent's life? And… the kind of pleasure from reaping great rewards once your schemes to eliminate your opponent came to fruition and you had achieved your goal?
Or was it that the feeling of strength, power and authority you would feel, knowing that you can control the life and death of a person with a flip of your palm, to toy with his fate, and to decide everything about him?
'F*ck'
Thales glared at Dean's neck, and he shivered slightly. He had no choice. He told himself this the third time. It was just another necessary killing, that was all.
'Is it... the pleasure?'
Quide's scary and abominable face appeared briefly in his mind.
'The joy?'
King Nuven's cunning smile passed through his mind.
'Authority?'
This time, Chapman Lampard's cold and merciless expression was presented before his eyes. Thales took a deep breath, and moved the dagger to the best angle for stabbing someone.
'For the pleasure of vengeance, for the pleasure of reaping benefits, and even for that bullsh*t authority? Who cares? Only those thrice-cursed freaks would care about those. I just need one gentle stab, and everything will be over. Once I kill him, I won't have to worry anymore…'
During that moment...
...a pale and terrified face appeared in his mind. It was a face long ago, so long that Thales nearly forgot him.
It was Kellet... one of the people in the sixth house. That poor child had charged forward to protect that young girl courageously during the last moments of his life.
However…
Thales shivered slightly, it was as if he was back to that moment, during that night: that damn Quide gleefully cut Kellet's neck open, the child's face was filled with terror, but the killer's face was filled with ridiculously disgusting joy and pleasure.
'F*ck.'
To Quide, it must have been nothing. He just needed a gentle stab, and that pleasure derived from killing...
'F*ck.'
Another face appeared before his eyes. It was a little girl standing in the Hall of Heroes in Dragon Clouds City. She hugged herself with an upset look on her face, but there was also a bit of pride there too, along with a hint of delicateness. She was a girl whom people found unpleasant at first sight.
Alex Walton, an innocent child born out of sin.
After she was fed poison, her upturned lips were replaced by pained spasms and a contorted face.
Thales stared blankly at the sleeping Dean, but before his eyes King Nuven's cold smile, Mirk's desperate cries, Nicholas' expressionless and aloof face, and Little Rascal's terror and shock-filled sobs…
'F*ck.'
For King Nuven, he, too, felt pleasure with just a cup of wine that allowed him to put an end to his past humiliation and hate.
'F*ck.'
Thales closed his eyes gently.
Dean's neck faded away from his eyes, replaced by the image of the Dragon Clouds City six years ago. In the burning and dipiladated Shield District… were corpses and endless wails.
With those things happening, that scary man with his cold face, the Archduke of Black Sand Region coldly wore his blood-stained crown.
Beneath his feet was the Born King's head, rolling on the ground. It fell into the countless bodies in Shield District. Among them were commoners, nobles, craftsmen, farmers, White Blade Guards…
'"Don't be aloof, Qiren, don't be aloof. Humans are creatures who would get used to many things slowly, such as apathy and certain perceptions, even though we know they're not right.
'"You'll become used to foul smells after prolonged exposure to it, right? Once you have relaxed and gotten used to it, you would then be unable to feel the difference between yourself and the world outside, and you would no longer be able to find your original self. Hang on, Qiren, don't compromise, don't let world enslave you."'
'"Hey, lady, why were you suddenly so… so 'Wu Qiren'?"'
'"Should you really be mocking yourself? Then again, isn't that your professional forte? From a completely new angle, you discover new things about a certain topic. Then, you will shake the grounds of what you already know. You will renew your impression of the world. You will cast aside the wrong perceptions and shallow understanding of the world you originally believed without any hesitation or doubt, almost to the point of it being a religion. You will discover how a certain thing is actually quite ridiculous, and that you have also been incredibly ridiculous in your method of perceiving that matter. You will then unfold a new world before your own self to discover a new relationship you did not know you shared with the world, and from there, improve yourself… Hey, once I said all these things, I suddenly feel like I'm really amazing."'
'"Oh well, can't be helped, after being with me for so long, even if you were as dumb as Spongebob Squarepants, you would still improve, right? So can we go now? Don't touch my head. Your cat is in your house, you can touch it for free, and you don't even have to stand on your tiptoes to do so… We already donated before, there's no need to stand in front of the donation box for five minutes again, right?"'
'"Ah! My comic fair! Come on, hurry up!"'
Thales opened his eyes swiftly!
In the silence, Thales panted quietly, with sweat beading on his head. His expression was one of conflict.
The JC dagger was getting closer to Dean's carotid artery. It was just a palm away.
He held the dagger tightly in his hand. The tip of the dagger was shaking incessantly.
'F*ck… F*ck!'
A long time seemed to have passed. He sucked in a sharp breath and slowly breathed it out.
'No.'
The prince put the dagger down, feeling exhausted. Thales touched his wet forehead, and bit his lower lip while feeling conflicted and in agony.
Eventually, he put his dagger away and cast one last glance at the sleeping Dean.
Like a religious devotee who had just experienced arduous hardships, the prince turned around slowly and headed towards the door with a sorrowful look.
However, right when Thales took his first step to leave…
"Why?"
The sudden voice made Thales's hair stand up!
"Why did you give up?"
Thales shut his eyes and sighed heavily, then he turned around. Under the moonlight, he could vaguely see Dean sit up and lean against the wall while he stared at him coldly.
"With a stab in the back, you can finish off your enemy before he sees you. This is always the best choice," the bald mercenary said nonchalantly.
He curled one of his legs and had it step on the edge of the bed. He then placed his right elbow on his knee. The axe was right beside his hand.
"Or… is it because you must capture me alive?"
Thales looked at the mercenary with much difficulty due to his conflicted emotions.
"You're awake," he said bitterly.
"What then? You thought that I should put down my guard completely and hand my life to you?" Dean laughed coldly and asked, "Just who are you?"
Thales opened his mouth, and for a moment he did not know where to begin. "Me, you…"
"Or let me ask you in a more direct manner." Dean flicked the axe next to his hand. His gaze was sharp. "Who sent you here?"
Thales stared at him fixedly, his gaze was conflicted.
Eventually, Thales slowly let out his breath. He put away the complicated expression on his face, and his most nonchalant and cold expression returned.
"Dean, right? You were saved by Old Dante from the Great Desert a few years ago. Since then you have become one of them, and as for your past…"
Thales watched Dean coldly.
"A normal mercenary, but one who knows how to read, and you are very knowledgeable," the prince said softly. "You came from Northland, you swing your axe well, and when you confronted the orcs, the set of feints you made made me think of a certain famous White Blade Guard from Eckstedt."
Dean did not speak, his eyes were focused on the axe next to his hands.
The house under the moonlight was quiet; the curfew on the street made their surroundings so quiet that it was not like the Western Frontlines, but a farm in a village.
"Not only that, you also know quite a number of orc languages, and it wasn't the 'Good day, damn it, I'll kill you' picked up by the soldiers after they ran into those orcs." Thales continued speaking, "What you know would require a very long time of systematic learning.
"You even shaved your head, as if you're trying to do so to conceal the color of your hair."
Dean was impassive. He raised his left hand and touched his head. Thales stared at him.
"Your understanding to and preparation for the country's issues and political atmosphere were far beyond a block-headed soldier who just wants to survive.
"Even Tampa had said so; that you being a mercenary was too much a waste, to the extent that even Blood Whistle wants to hire you."
Thales sucked in a deep breath, and with great effort, voiced his greatest suspicion,
"Dean, mercenary Dean, don't you think that these traits… far too obviously show just you who are?"
His voice resounded through the small room and it was very clear. Time seemed to be frozen.
Dean lifted his head and he stared into Thales' interrogative eyes without backing down.
"Obvious?" There was anger and disdain forming on Dean's face. He asked directly, "Hmph. So, who sent you here? Lisban? Or the White Blade Guards?"
Thales' gaze froze.
"Or someone else?"
Under the moonlight shining through the window, Dean slowly opened his mouth to speak and his gaze grew darker. "The order you received… was it to find me or to kill me?"
Thales frowned deeply. He remained staring at Dean without moving.
"Even Mickey had said it: this deal with Tormorden was a mistake. He was not an easy partner, and the blockade order from Constellation made your trip even more ill-suited." Thales did not answer, but continued softly, "Yet still, you came with your mercenaries, why? This does not match up to your wisdom."
Dean clenched his fists.
