Kingdom's Bloodline, page 665
“Yet you ask me who the ruthless one is?”
Thales glared at Zayen, at his vacant expression, at his Blood Clan-esque grim face.
“It’s up to you.
“Zayen Covendier.”
Silence.
Deathly silence radiated from their indifferent gazes.
In the hall, the atmosphere between them finally plunged to freezing point.
The royal guards waiting outside while the dukes were negotiating seemed to sense something and wanted to rush over, but were halted by Mallos.
Finally, Zayen turned around, avoided Thales’ gaze and stopped struggling to break free.
Instead, he laughed.
“You know.
“From John the Black Eye, to Herman the Southerner, Alan the Ascension King, Midier the Oath Keeper, Erica the Conqueror of the North…” Zayen again became leisurely and artful, but the immense coldness of his gaze revealed the truth, “In history, many Constellation kings have punished Eckstedt.
“And do you know what I’ve learnt about dealing with Northlanders?”
Thales frowned.
Zayen stopped pushing Thales away, but instead pulled him closer and whispered calmly, “Before they fuck you…
“Fuck them to death.”
Thales’ gaze turned cold.
“Stop copying what I said.”
But Zayen grinned.
“You think, after you’ve survived the Born King, that you are entitled to be complacent and egocentric?
“Polaris? Hahahaha…”
The master of Iris Flowers continued softly, “Trust me. Emulating Nuven the Seventh’s ways in Constellation will only make you die a faster, more miserable and more bizarre death.”
Thales felt a chill in his heart.
This version of Zayen was more disturbing than the brooding and sullen Duke of South Coast.
In the next moment, Thales’ wrist flexed as Zayen shook it off forcefully!
“Manage your men well, Your Highness.”
The Duke of Iris Flowers was beaming. “Like I said, times have changed.
“Things are not as before.”
Thales said nothing.
His threats…
Were ineffective.
Or…
Were they too effective?
Zayen took a step back and brushed his shoulder nonchalantly, like there was a smudge. “You wouldn’t want to be fucked to death by me, Your Highness.
“Before you encounter a real enemy.”
Thales’ expression changed.
He slowly looked up.
“The only enemy I can see, so far, is you.”
Zayen burst out laughing as if he heard a funny joke.
“The art of choosing friends and enemies is a skill, Your Highness.
“Constellation is peaceful and prosperous, with a bright future ahead of it,” his smile remained, but his words became more subtle, “Those in view are friends.
“Those whom you can’t see, are enemies.”
Zayen raised the wine glass in his hand. There was still wine in it, its color still fresh.
“Let us rather die for friends than perish as foes,” he said warmly.
He smiled, then immediately loosened his grip.
Thales pupils narrowed.
Crash!
The wine glass hit the floor and shattered to pieces, scattering glass everywhere.
Every piece of broken glass reflected the light in the hall and cast curious glimmers and shadows.
Zayen did not linger; he turned around to leave.
“That’s my property,” behind Zayen, Thales uttered coldly as he looked at the broken glass.
“Indeed,” Zayen replied without turning back around, “That’s why you’re distressed about it.”
Thales frowned.
“Aren’t you afraid?”
Watching Zayen walk further away from him, Thales could not help but yell, “Acting like this in Eternal Star City—openly challenging the authority of the royal family, driving a wedge between Jadestar and their vassals, damaging the relationship between Renaissance Palace and Western Desert, endangering the heir of the kingdom.
“Or are you still banking on the Jadestar royal family dying out so that you can succeed the throne?”
Thales stared at Zayen’s back and continued in a hushed tone, “My father won’t be happy.”
Zayen sneered.
“After this incident tonight, you’ll probably have your hands full tomorrow.”
Even then he did not look back, leaving his back to face Thales as he answered loudly, “But if you have time, you should visit Byrael in jail.”
Thales was stunned.
“Trust me, His Majesty will be pleased.”
Zayen’s voice became more and more distant as it echoed, “You might be the only one who’s unhappy.”
Thales pondered, “Why?”
“I told you, this is just a warning.”
Zayen’s strides were graceful as usual, and his posture was composed and elegant. “So I left you a little surprise reward.”
Thales was confounded.
“Be smarter, Your Highness. Know your place.”
Emotion gradually faded from the Duke of South Coast’s voice, “I told you, the next time will be a declaration of war.”
What?
Declaration of war?
Thales looked at Zayen incredulously; his annoyance, fury, and loathing was concentrated on the latter.
‘What the hell is this damned, pompous f**cker up to?’
Next time?
Did he still think that it was Thales who offended him tonight?
Shocked and infuriated, Thales wasn’t sure whether to laugh or to be angry.
Zayen’s figure exited the hall as he rejoined his butler.
“It’s over?”
Thales heard Mallos’ footsteps behind him.
The prince sighed.
No.
It’s just the beginning.
At the thought of the ordeal he experienced today, and what he would face tomorrow…
This was only the first day, the first banquet.
After forcing himself to put up a poker face for the entire night, Thales exhaled and sat down exhaustedly. He said indignantly, “I still don’t understand why he hates me so much.”
Thales scoffed. The more he looked at the broken glass on the floor, the more he felt disgruntled, to the point that he wanted to smash the empty glass in his hand to vent his anger.
But halfway through the motion, the distinguished and affluent Duke of Star Lake took a few deep breaths and, bitterly but rationally…put the glass back down on the table.
“As if I ruined his entire family,” Thales said glumly.
Mallos arrived behind Thales and nodded silently. “Did you?”
The prince turned around and rolled his eyes.
“I relieved Doyle in advance. He has to go back and settle his family down,” Mallos seemed to have gotten used to the duke’s death stare, as he continued to report calmly, “Of course, tomorrow…”
Tomorrow.
Oh no.
Thales covered his face and groaned, interrupting his personal guard captain.
“By the way, Mallos.”
The watchman pricked up his ears.
“Your ad-hoc sniper squad,” Thales looked up wearily, “They haven’t been relieved, have they?”
Mallos glanced outside.
“No. Why?”
Since they haven’t been relieved…
Thales scoffed and cast a glance towards the Duke of South Coast.
His expression was somber and his words were chilling, “So if I order them to stealthily track and assassinate Zayen Covendier…”
“No,” Mallos replied instantly.
Thales frowned. “Why?”
“Because,” Mallos turned around and replied casually and unabashedly, “They have been relieved.”
Chapter 558: Punishment |
“As previously mentioned, the elven language has surpassed the sphere of language that we are able to comprehend. Most of its effective meaning lies in the tacit understanding and resonance of the speaker, which relies on elves’ inherent extraordinary senses that are practically the basic instincts of that ethnic group. Even with mere text, they can reproduce the context, relay a thorough description and realize emotional connection through pronunciation and brushstrokes by reading aloud or touching it. This is something that humans, reliant only on banal speech, cannot imagine…”
In the study room of Mindis Hall, Grand Scholar Bonar was conducting his grammar lesson in a self-assured and composed manner as usual.
Seated in an elegant posture behind the desk, Thales was quietly and meticulously copying the ancient elven script and the five to fifteen phonetic symbols of each letter.
As if nothing had happened the previous night.
“So in writing, the elven language is often concise to an outrageous extent: the grammatical structure of the language of the Ancient Cia elves frequently omits tenses and pronouns, and the word order of the language of the Ancient Rehan elves regularly contains incomprehensible inversions. There’s even a joke about this. A romance novel about a love triangle had been translated from the elven language into a common human text, but readers were split into three conflicting factions after they finished reading it. All three factions argued that the character pair that they liked ended up together. In the end, the original author had to come out and explain that he had actually written about a love hexagon…”
Scholar Bonar’s voice hummed on monotonously, but Thales remained focused.
The Star Lake Guards who stood guard near the entrance were still a partner configuration of a vanguard and a protector (as preferred by Mallos), but no longer Glover and Doyle. Instead, they were the young Ness and buff Bastia, with whom Thales was unfamiliar. Both had displayed admirable performances the night before: the former subdued D.D—who was anxious about his father—with an Iron Fist, while Thales experienced the stiffness of the latter’s abdominal muscles.
‘So, both Glover and Doyle had been relieved from their shifts,’ Thales thought to himself.
“In view of this, in the early years of The Empire, during the Uncivilized Period, when Rudollians created their alphabet based on the elven script, they had to add a plethora of grammatical norms, such as tenses, grammatical voice, subject-predicate-object order et cetera, to clarify things that ancient elves could perceive without added description. This led to another extreme, which evolved into the complex and elaborate ancient language of The Empire with variable rhetoric. As such, we have to pay extra care when reading and translating the language of the elves…”
There was no sun today. A harsh wind blew and the cold was biting.
Mindis Hall thus seemed desolate and muted.
If previous years were anything to go by, Eternal Star City would be deep in winter by now. But the autumn this year seemed exceptionally long, which made it feel miserable, dull and grim.
The Duke of Star Lake silently moved his wrist and watched as letters, one after the other, formed on the paper.
After one night, his back was stiff, his forehead was sore and the side of his legs were chilly.
All of these served as reminders that the corner of the bedroom was not conducive to a good night’s sleep.
“Therefore, it is not difficult to understand why different ethnic groups have different languages, and how different languages shape different ethnic groups—language is a tool, is the result, but also the master, and the cause. It is the best example of a guest that usurps its host and profoundly influences its users in changing times…”
Listening to Scholar Bonar’s low voice, Thales focused his gaze on the letters in front of him as the tip of his brush moved deftly like a machine. Each stroke was meticulous and delicate.
Other than that, there was nothing else.
The “nothing else” that he despised facing.
“…distant.”
Scholar Bonar’s voice became hazy. His tone was peculiar and fluctuating.
The young duke did not react. He switched over to the next piece of paper with a blank expression and turned to the next page that he was going to copy.
The next page.
And the next.
But Scholar Bonar suddenly raised his voice, “Dis—tant!”
Thales’ brush wobbled, blotting the paper with a drop of ink.
He snapped out of it and looked up in surprise.
“Huh? Pardon?”
Before him, the poised Scholar Bonar was staring interestedly at Thales with his arms folded.
Scholar Bonar chuckled and explained patiently, “That was a sentence in the language of the Ancient Cia elves. If all the information contained in the pronunciation were to be interpreted, it would probably be translated into—”
The scholar returned to his seat and went on subtly, “Your attention isn’t here with me, not on the lesson, and not even on the letters under your brush, Your Highness.”
Thales was momentarily stunned.
Even though he managed to quickly think of a few excuses, he finally sighed and sincerely apologized, “I’m, I’m sorry Scholar Bonar.”
“Ah no, I’m the one who should apologize,” Scholar Bonar, now holding teacups, continued without a trace of anger, “My lesson has obviously not been interesting enough for you to concentrate on it and forget your worries.”
Thales shook his head. “This is not your fault. You are an excellent teacher. It’s just that I…”
But Bonar interjected, “I heard about what happened last night.”
Thales paused.
“It’s good to be respectful and understanding, Your Highness. To not ignore the human value and inner qualities of a person—even if that person is your enemy—is even more admirable.”
“Is it?” the prince forced a smile at these words as he suppressed his chaotic emotions.
Scholar Bonar closed his textbook and said softly, “But don’t forget that you are a person too.”
Upon hearing these words, Thales froze for a moment.
The respected old scholar smiled. “So I thought we might as well end the class early.”
Thales put down his brush.
He just realized that mistakes abound on the page of elven script that he was copying.
The youth sighed. “Thank you for understanding, Scholar Bonar. I am grateful.”
Scholar Bonar responded with a smile.
“The reason why we have to improve our grammar and study languages, and not just stop at the level of everyday conversation and letter-writing, Your Highness,” he stood up and said profoundly, “is because, as humans, we value each other’s values and feelings, and because we want to communicate and understand each other better, in order to unearth and express what’s deep within us.
“Instead of superficial actions and reactions, blind consciousness and misunderstandings, malicious conjectures and suspicions, and our indifferent nature and rules.
“What sets us apart from animals, Your Highness, is not that ‘we’ know how to light a fire…”
The elderly Scholar Bonar carefully put away his teaching materials. “It is that among this ‘we’, some know how to light a fire and some don’t.”
Thales contemplated these profound words without saying anything.
He stood up and bowed.
After Scholar Bonar left, Thales took a look at the gloomy weather outside and summoned Ness and Bastia.
“Any news from Renaissance Palace?”
“None, Your Highness.”
As a trainee vanguard, it was obvious that this was the first time he had been given a task by the prince he served. This young man, who was only a few years older than Thales, was clearly excited. He looked at the prince earnestly and with anticipation.
“Actually, I think the palace is busy right now, with…what happened last night.”
Last night.
Thales sighed. He felt depressed.
Bastia, who was slightly older, shot a glance at Ness, but the young man was entirely unaware and continued enthusiastically, “Do you want to send someone to inquire at Renaissance Palace? I can—”
“No. That won’t be necessary.”
Thales stood up.
“I need to change. The martial arts lesson is next. Before Mallos arrives,” the duke stood up and unbuttoned his sleeves. After last night, he had a pressing desire to swing a weapon, “I want to warm up at the Training Field.”
Ness responded radiantly, “Of course. I’ll inform the servants now—”
“But, Your Highness,” the slightly older Bastia hesitated to speak. His voice was rugged, like a bellow in a blacksmith’s forge.
“About the Training Field…”
He stopped himself short.
“What is it?” Thales looked at the protector who was as sturdy as a small hill and recalled the latter’s strength when he protected him last night. He wondered whether every royal guard had such a build.
“D.D just came back.”
The hand that was unbuttoning his sleeve froze.
Bastia noticed Thales’ expression and quickly said, “I mean, Doyle. He is with Vanguard Glover at the Training Field…together with Commander Mallos.”
Thales turned around, confused. “So?”
They exchanged a look but did not answer him.
He did not have to wonder for long.
When Thales reached the Training Field, most of the Star Lake Guards were there. They were divided into teams based on rank and duties, and formed a semi-circle—just like when they “tested” Thales previously.
Ness wanted to grab everyone’s attention and have them pay respect to Thales, but Bastia stopped him swiftly.
Thales sensed something was amiss.
Under the overcast sky, everyone stood at attention in silence. No one whispered, and no one moved an extra inch.
Thales’ gaze brushed past them and focused on Mallos, who was standing in front:
He had his hands behind his back. His expression was placid as usual and his gaze was calm, but there was an unnerving aura about him.
