Kingdom's Bloodline, page 639
Hell?
Thales furrowed his brows.
Val looked around; he seemed unhinged. “Some of them are hypocrites, pretending that everything is fine; some deceive others and believe in their own lies; some of them are concealing dissatisfaction but force themselves to bear it; some have seen through the façade of this world and choose to detach themselves. Under the lights in the thick of night, everyone is pretending to be joyous and harmonious,” there was a chilling message behind his gradually increasing sneers, “oblivious that they are all in a pot, while fuel is being added to the fire.”
Mallos coughed once.
Thales’ expression tensed.
Recalling his encounters ever since he returned to Constellation, he felt inexplicably dispirited.
He knew that his conversation with the Duke of the Northern Territory was about to come to an end.
Thales knew. He knew what the duke meant to say with those words.
Just like all the others.
But he would not waver that easily.
Nevertheless…
Thales gritted his teeth.
Val lowered his head and sneered, “Kid, you’re just like how I was.”
Thales stirred inside. “Alike? For example?”
“For example…” Val continued, his gaze cloudy. “For example, you seem to have a close relationship with them, your interests are aligned, you share your honors and disgrace, it is the perfect moment. In this lifetime, you will never oppose each other and become enemies.”
It is the perfect moment.
Thales could not help but remember what Viscount Patterson said to him before.
The kingdom is young. It is the perfect moment.
“But only you know…” Val’s words became more cryptic, like a traveler finding his way in the fog, with no sight of the road ahead, surrounded only by illusions. “Ahead lies a high precipice. Behind lies a deep abyss.”
At that moment, a racket and commotion could again be heard coming from outside the hall.
Everyone in the hall shuffled about. They anticipated this and prepared to welcome the next important guest.
But this time, what they heard was a blended cacophony of uniform footsteps, stern commands and the clamor of excitement.
Mallos was slightly puzzled.
Until a majestic and imposing command—conveying absolute compliance, as if a holy edict—could be heard coming from a distance and penetrated the walls, “In the names of the supreme king of Constellation, Kessel Jadestar—”
Thales blanked.
The expressions of the attendees changed.
Muffled sounds could be heard coming from outside the hall.
“And the supreme queen, Keya Jadestar—”
The messenger’s voice permeated throughout the hall.
Whether it was the joyous music within the hall, the fierce arguments between attendants in the hallways, or the drawn-out neighing that could be heard coming from a distance from time to time, all of it faded away in this moment.
It was so quiet you could hear a pin drop. Only the lights were left glowing.
“Fellow subjects…”
The right to breathe had given way to that authoritative voice.
“Salute your king and queen!”
The messenger’s command ended but his voice echoed endlessly and hovered in the air.
Unyielding.
In the next moment, Mallos, Patterson, Glover, Doyle…
Whether they were royal guards, attendants or servants, nobles, bureaucrats or commoners, everyone present subconsciously adjusted their posture and held their breaths.
Everyone retreated aside to form a pathway as they turned around solemnly and respectfully towards the banquet hall doors.
They got down on one knee.
Put their hand on their chest.
Hung their heads low.
As if this was innate instinct.
Immutable.
Habitual.
Only Thales was left standing in a daze under the Everlasting Lamp, under the watchful gaze of the Three Constellation Kings, staring out the hall towards the darkness.
“And you have no way out.”
Unknowingly, Duke Val’s cold voice and clanging of his shackles came from behind him and bored through his heart.
“You can only take a leap of faith… And give it your best shot.”
The messenger’s command and the Duke of the Northern Territory’s words lingered in the air at the same time, intertwined.
The disconcerted Thales took a deep breath.
A few seconds later, he forcefully took a step back.
And got on one knee.
Chapter 539: Side Story 7: Joint Council |
Early morning.
In a dim and empty lecture hall, a young apprentice knelt by the podium, stuck out his buttocks and stretched a hand out, trying to reach its base.
Who came up with this design?
The apprentice reached so hard that his face turned bright red.
Installing Sound Replication Stones in the hidden compartment of the podium?
It was indeed pleasing to the eye, but it made things difficult for teaching assistants like him who were responsible for class maintenance.
Finally, with a soft click, he successfully removed the last of the precious Sound Replication Stones.
The apprentice leaned backward and sat on the floor, panting as he looked at the Sound Replication Stone in his hand. It was smooth and polished from repeated use. He let out a sigh of relief.
Fortunately, this piece isn’t damaged.
It should be able to last ten…uhm, maybe five more lessons.
The apprentice carefully wrapped the Sound Replication Stone, then picked up a charcoal pencil and traced on the slightly faded Sound Replication Spell in front of the podium.
His movements were deft and habitual; he looked serious and focused. The complex and varied spell effortlessly appeared under his hand.
While he was at it, the apprentice even corrected a few mistakes on the design of the Barrier Spell to make it operate smoother, which may even extend the lifespan of the Sound Replication Stone.
Of course, even though he was pleased with himself, the apprentice thought that this act was best left undiscovered, otherwise he would face another investigation by the Magical Ethics Committee.
At this thought, the pleased expression instantly left his face.
After finishing the last stroke, the apprentice, with an aching back, stood up and looked towards his seat: there were two stacks of parchment manuscript paper, three sacks of test papers, and a dedicated utilities box for teaching assistants.
The apprentice sighed.
Mr. Donovan’s lecture was this afternoon.
He had to quickly prepare the paraphernalia, including the roster, nametags, recording pen, media player, models, the corresponding guest manual…
Why did such a boring topic require so many lectures?
Sigh, the Convention of All Magic is on a decline, the apprentice thought worriedly as he walked to the other side of the lecture hall and looked at the calendar on the wall.
[October 29, Empire Year 839, Saturday]
[Rest day]
[Era of Multiple Kings Year 314, Lifetime Mage of Ascetic Tower, craftsman, poet, historian, swordsman, author of ‘Biography of the Iron Blood King’, Jericho Leon Mindis was born on this day.]
[What matters is not the choice itself but the act of choosing—J. L. Mindis]
On the calendar, the painted figure of Wizard Mindis stood on the peak of the mountains and stared profoundly at the sunrise in the distance, looking troubled.
It’s been three years.
The apprentice sighed a long sigh, then mercilessly tore off yesterday together with the patriotic Master Mindis and crumpled it up.
Revealing ‘today’.
[October 30, Empire Year 839, Sunday]
[Day of Holy Pursuit Holiday]
[Era of Multiple Kings Year 58, military strategist, commander of the Holiness Exorcism Campaign, King Anzac died on this day.]
[Comrades, we leave our lives in this moment in order to preserve hope for tomorrow—King Anzac]
On the calendar was the back of a fully-armored chevalier, rushing down a glacier-capped peak towards a large dense army.
Expressionless, the apprentice stuffed ‘Wizard Mindis’ into his hand, crumpling it smaller and smaller.
Why did these lectures always have to be scheduled on weekends…
At this moment.
“Really?” A young man’s voice, bright, gentle and cheerful, could be heard.
The apprentice was startled. He turned around to find an unexpected guest who had entered the lecture hall without him noticing.
The guest had sat next to his seat and pulled out a stack of parchment paper rolls from his teaching assistant sack, rifling through it and reading with much interest.
“‘A Common Explanation for the Origin Theory, Metasystem Concept, Metamorphic Magic, and Spirit Summoning Spells—New Evidence from Northland Prehistoric Battlefields’?”
Just by hearing the first half of the sentence, the apprentice was shocked!
My god, that’s—
He ran towards the guest like a lunatic, but stumbled at the steps on the way and fell flat on his face.
The guest was still reading the scroll in his hand keenly, looking relaxed.
The young apprentice ignored the pain in his palms, got up hurriedly and rushed towards the guest with gritted teeth. “That’s… mine!”
The guest finally looked up and smiled casually at him.
He had long hair that grew past his ears and a fair complexion; he was very handsome. His seated posture was elegant but striking.
A pretty boy.
Like he stepped out of a painting.
The apprentice held on to a seat nearby and forcibly halted his steps to avoid hitting the guest.
“Yes, I noticed the signature. And the commentary for why the paper was rejected,” the pretty boy chuckled. He held up the scroll at the apprentice, turning to a page of comments written in red. “‘Self-gratifying, irrational and fanciful speculation’.”
The apprentice blushed.
He felt a choking sensation as he looked at that commentary, his initial justified tone faded a little. “That’s—” he hesitated for a bit, finally uttering stubbornly, “none of your business.”
The pretty boy smiled gently.
The apprentice noticed that his clothes were different from the colors and styles commonly worn in the tower. On the contrary, his wizard robe was flamboyant in colors, fashionably designed and made of expensive materials. It seemed to give off star-like reflections in the morning light.
This is odd.
Who is he?
“So you’re him?” The guest continued to thumb through the scrolls in his hand. “The ‘fraud wizard’ of Red Horn Tower?”
The apprentice was taken aback.
Due to the unique architecture of its main tower, Soul Tower was jokingly referred by apprentices of other magic towers as “Red Horn Tower”.
But apprentices of Soul Tower would never mention this moniker. That means…
However, the apprentice regained his composure and quickly noticed another moniker.
“Fr—fraud?”
What was that supposed to mean?
The pretty boy nodded.
“So you believe that,” the guest lifted his gaze from the scrolls, nodded gently to the apprentice, amiable as a spring breeze, “in the Holiness Exorcism Campaign more than a millennium ago, King Anzac opened the Gate of Hell and relied on the power of a mysterious devil to defeat the ancient orcs?”
The apprentice blinked. He stared at his own manuscript in the guest’s hand and understood something.
“Fraud wizard, very well.”
The apprentice sighed and held up his index finger, as if he was well-accustomed to such a situation. “Listen, I’m not a fraud, and I never said that the ancient orcs were defeated with help from a devil…”
But the guest immediately interjected, “But in your thesis, that’s the commentary that the reviewer wrote.”
He turned to a specific page in the scroll and showed it to the apprentice.
A paragraph was circled in red, with a comment beside it that said, “if you like devils so much, you should continue your studies at the Gate of Hell.”
The apprentice skipped a breath; his face flushed instantly.
Seemingly insulted, his tone was brisk, “This… this has been taken out of context!”
The guest looked at him with a grin, but did not say anything.
This made the apprentice even more indignant.
With a lightning-quick move he snatched his thesis over, instinctively flipped through the pages and rummaged out a creased page.
“See?” He pointed angrily at one of the sketches that was full of notations. It looked like a sketch of a human skeleton. “Based on the latest ancient battlefield evidence unearthed from under Arunde Castle… the remains of more than a thousand ancient human warriors with distinctive features of the era of multiple kings…most of the specimens suffered countless blows and injuries to numerous parts…”
The guest drew closer and looked at it with interest.
The apprentice quickened his pace of speech, “Whether in terms of extent or quantity, it far exceeds our imagination. Some remains even have crushed skulls in addition to pierced hearts…”
“I guess,” the pretty boy smiled as his long hair fluttered, “this meant that the ancient knights during the era of multiple kings battled courageously? Fought to the death against the orcs? And suffered severe injuries?”
“No!” The apprentice was indignant as he waved the scroll in his hand. “This meant that they suffered fatal trauma more than once during their lifetime! More than once!” he repeated to emphasize his point.
“Perhaps, the superpowers of the ancient people were stronger?” the tone of the pretty boy was still teasing, “just as how ancient orcs are physically more superior than regular orcs?”
The apprentice felt insulted.
“No!”
He raised his voice, gritted his teeth and habitually raised his index finger as he tirelessly repeated, “No human being can withstand such a fatal blow, even if it was only once! None! No matter how strong-willed you are! Impossible! Even with stronger superpowers, not possible!”
Every time he emphasized, the pretty boy beamed and nodded.
As if he understood well.
“Then?”
The apprentice took a deep breath and turned to the next page.
“Then, a few of the remains that I personally excavated from the ground and thawed from a frozen state, I swear, the residual flesh on those things still had signs of life. If not for my quick reactions…I’ve listed the specific data on the thousands of remains uncovered by our research team here…”
But the apprentice stopped speaking abruptly.
The part of the thesis to which he pointed was full of red circles, its original state almost unidentifiable. Various comments were written in distinct handwritings: “Statistical method used was too rudimentary”, “Has selective bias been taken into account”, “Recommended that new specimen be selected”, “Tests are unconvincing”, “Correlation does not equal causation” etc.
The most offending one was: “Did you learn math from a swordsman?”
The pretty boy seemed to be holding back laughter.
The apprentice blushed as he stuffed the thesis into the sack.
“Anyway, this is beyond the scope of explanation of ‘Edge Sharpening Skills’, ‘Physique Fortification Magic’ and ‘Material Affinity’ of Alchemy Tower as well as ‘Light and Shadow Flute’ and ‘Soul Body Theory’ of Soul Tower, let alone some superpower like “will affecting the body”.”
He was still explaining diligently, “I don’t think you would be able to find that even in the most extreme of places such as Ascetic Tower…”
The guest nodded, encouraging him to go on. “So?”
The apprentice adjusted his breath; his eyes lit up. “In known historical materials, even though rare, there are indeed a few records that mention similar things that ignore fundamental principles and radically alter life form…”
Ignore fundamental principles, radically…
“You mean…” The guest muttered calmly, “Bright God Church’s… Religious Exorcism Records?”
The apprentice paused.
The pretty boy chuckled. “So, we’re back to devils.”
The apprentice cleared his throat. “No, not entirely, and not necessarily Bright God… But,” he was trying hard to justify something, but eventually gave up and said softly, “Yes, for the most part, yes. At least that’s… the potential circumstantial evidence that can currently be referenced.”
The apprentice looked dejected. He pressed his elbow onto the sacks containing the papers. “What I mean to say is, if we are willing to let go of prejudices and re-examine the relevant religious books and even legends, it will, I mean, it may be of help.”
The guest understood something. “So the reviewers think that you are advocating mystical or even religious theories that claim ‘devils exist’ and such like?”
The apprentice’s expression turned gloomy. “They even scoffed and asked me if I went to a sermon at Gate of Hell again.”
He stared miserably at the crumpled thesis in the sack.
God have mercy, he’s only been to Gate of Hell once, alright?
Even then, he was tricked to enter!
That big sister who preached looked so intellectual, so mature, so beautiful…
Who knew she liked…
The apprentice shook his head to dismiss the unpleasant memories.
When he smelled the reeking of blood from human sacrifice, he immediately left, alright?
“Your title, I understand it now,” the guest suddenly said.
The apprentice looked up. “What?”
The pretty boy touched his chin lightly. “A Metamorphic Magic that takes effect at the origin level… Using contemporary metasystem hypothesis to explain those long-despised ancient Spirit Summoning Spells…”
