Kingdom's Bloodline

Chapter 617: Behind the Door (Updated)

Behind the Door

The night had grown dark, and the air had turned colder.

In the corridor outside Ballard Room, the Royal Guards had strategically positioned as few (for secrecy) and as many (for abundance) of their own as possible in the most efficient and tightest defence and siege formations, filling every corner as far as the eye could see.

The innermost guards remained perfectly silent and focused, ready for any potential threat.

These were experienced and capable elite soldiers drawn from the Six Divisions. They stood there with their weapons ready, keeping a vigilant watch on the door to the Imperial Conference Room. It felt as if lurking behind that door were not just your usual suspects, but something much more mysterious, ruthless, and terrifying—a beast within the Renaissance Palace, biding its time, sharpening its teeth and claws, and growling softly, poised to burst forth and select its victims. Nevertheless, they could not afford to waver or step back.

They were the Emperor’s Praetorian Guards, bound by an ancient oath to protect this threshold until the Emperor’s command was restored.

Or until the throne went silent.

In the corridor, the flickering lights cast eerie and haunting shadows.

As time drifted by, restlessness hung in the air, and those hands on the sword hilts clenched tighter with each passing moment.

But that hefty stone door? It just would not budge, shrouding in silence.

Amidst countless, ever-sharpening gazes, it stood unwavering, faithfully keeping unknown threats at bay, a duty it had upheld for six centuries.!

Six skilled physicians, each with their own medical expertise, from trauma care to toxicology, had been hastily summoned by the palace baron. They were left waiting, puzzled and anxious, but unwilling to ask questions, forced to stay alert in the oppressive atmosphere, where speculation and prayers were the only currency.

Also waiting behind the third row of guards, a few high-ranking officials and nobles managed to maintain a facade of calmness, even strolling and conversing in quiet tones.

But as time marched on, their expressions stayed the same, though the pace of their steps quickened and the gaps between their whispered words grew shorter.

The silence thickened in the air, and the palace concealed its secrets in the depths of its walls.

1 ‘stood unwavering’; 722% 4m, remain indifferent whether favoured or humiliated (idiom).

Couriers and trusted servants kept their heads low, quietly appearing from the corners, blending into the crowd, and disappearing into the shadows. They left behind only hushed words and fleeting silhouettes on the ears of a chosen few and the softly lit walls.

The clock kept ticking, but it felt like it was taking its sweet time, almost savouring the changes it was bringing about:

In the stillness, the guards were taken by the heaviness of their own breath; each inhale and exhale felt weighty enough to stir the dust just inches from their noses.

And the sharpness of their own hearing, picking up on the slightest creak of bones and joints, sent ripples of tension through the comrades standing only two feet away.

Their eyelids were so adamant to shy away from loneliness that every moment they had to touch up and down to greet each other, lest they be left alone.

As for their hearts, they were beating so steadily and strongly...

So much so that in the heart of the palace, as the heartbeats of hundreds gathered and quickened, it felt as though the slumbering behemoth known as the Renaissance Palace was stirring, slowly waking from its long sleep.

And that stone door—everyone’s eyes were glued to it—was the ferocious eye about to open, sending a collective shiver down everyone’s spine.”

“What’s going on?

“What’s going to happen?

‘And if... what’s the right move?

‘Should we draw our swords?

‘Or should we step back?’

After years of guarding the palace, these royal guards had seen their share of political manoeuvring, making them outwardly composed but inwardly filled with unease.

They wished they could turn to one another, exchange glances, and share their thoughts.

At the very least, sought some comfort in their shared uncertainty, finding camaraderie among those who were facing the same questions.

However, the guards were well aware of their orders:

“This sword will only be brandished for the Emperor, will only be broken for the Emperor, and

will be used for no other purpose. ””

2 You can see rest of the oath in chapter 411.

It was etched into their very core, a habit formed through countless rounds of training, compelling them to keep their self-discipline and stayed on high alert.

This made them push aside any lingering thoughts, bringing their slightly scattered gazes back to the thick stone door they had guarded so many times, yet never with such an anxious anticipation... An abrupt, powerful rumble ran through the room, making everyone jump!

Suddenly, as if by some great force, the dark stone door, which had seemed like it would never budge, cracked open at its centre.

Another loud thud...

‘It woke up.’

That was the first thought that raced through everyone’s minds.

With a mechanical, grating sound, the stone door, much like the heavy eyelid of a colossal creature, slowly creaked open.

Out poured a warm, golden-red light, much like the eerie yet captivating glow of a lantern mingled with the vivid hue of fresh blood.

But just like that, in a matter of seconds, the stone door ground to a halt.

The stone door cracked open, just enough for a single person to squeeze through, and a golden-red light spilled out, like the half-opened eye of a drowsy beast.

It was as if the beast was in a weird in-between state, neither fully asleep nor awake, caught in a never-ending nightmare.

A gust of cold wind swept in from behind the door, making the front-line royal guards take a step back, on high alert.

“Well, I'll give it to it—this door of the Renaissance Palace... it’s quite heavy.”

Right in front of them, the dark monster opened its eerie, cavernous mouth and added, its deep voice carrying a touch of mockery,

“But it’s not completely immovable.”

From the creature’s narrow, beastly eyes, a darker figure peeked out, pushing against the stone door from both sides. They panted softly and posed a wry question, “Don’t you guys think so?” The Royal Guards reacted on instinct, readying themselves and drawing their weapons.

Watching this scene, the figure at the centre of the door fell silent for a moment before heaving a sigh.

“All right,” the shadow moved to the side, squeezing through the narrow door crack, “don’t want to help? That works too.”

“T... Pll handle this my... self.”

The shadowy figure clenched their teeth, twisted their face, and strained to push through the door of the Ballard Room. Only then did the light reveal a pale-faced Prince Thales in the corridor. He looked at the crowd of people in front of him, everyone staring at him with a sense of impending doom.

‘Wow! Looking at this, you’d think they’ re out here hunting dragons or something.’

The exhausted young man glanced back at Ballard Room and then at the well-armed Royal Guards standing before him, feeling rather at a loss.*

Walking out of that eerie and treacherous hall...

Walking into a heavily guarded area...

This sight—did it ring a bell?

After a quick look at the Prince’s whole appearance, the first row of guards fell briefly silent, then brandishing their swords high, they all advanced as one!

“Keep it steady!”

Lord Adrian, the Chief Commander of the Royal Guards, called out as he weaved his way through the anxious crowd, occasionally reassuring his nervous subordinates with a pat on the shoulder. “Don’t worry, folks, take it easy, take it easy... It’s over.”

Adrian’s voice had a calming effect, and as he passed through, the guards lowered their swords one by one.

“Your Highness, fifteen minutes have just passed!”

The captain greeted Thales casually. He peeked at the partially open door leading to the Ballard Room, saying, “I was just about to grab some dessert...”

“No need, Lord Adrian. Mealtime is over.”

Thales breathed a sigh of relief and rested his hand on Adrian’s shoulder. He pushed forward, squeezing through the tense guards, who were blocking his path, into the Royal Guards formation. Adrian, after observing the situation through the door crack, raised an eyebrow and turned back.

“Then you...?”

3 ‘sense of impending doom’; ANI; AAA, lit. as if meeting a great enemy (idiom). 4 ‘well-armed ‘; 7K #7838, lit. not one drop can trickle through (idiom); fig. impenetrable (crowd, traffic).

“Do not worry.” Thales waved it off.

“To those who are wondering...”

Facing the alert and suspicious guards, he took a deep breath, cupped his hands around his mouth, and hollered at the ceiling.

“The... King... fs... Still... Alivel”

With the Sin of Hell’s River behind his voice, Thales’ words thundered through the entire corridor, the lights flickered, and the crowd burst into commotion.

Thales patted the shoulders of the two surprised royal guards in front of him, then wearily pushed past them. He could not resist adding a comment that once again left those around him wide-eyed, “Still, at least for now.”

Adrian furrowed his brow, stole a glance at Thales’s departing figure, and then turned to signal his subordinates to open the stone door, seeking an audience with the King,

“Your Majesty...”

On the other side, Thales made his way through the crowd, paying no mind to the astonishment or anxiety of those he passed. He did not care whether they were servants, physicians, or guards; he spoke openly without hesitation,

“If you are all waiting for the King to order my capture or release, do not hold your breath! He would not dare to capture me, not when I have such a good grip on his secrets!”

The crowd’s confusion and agitation continued to mount.

“And he cannot let me go either, being the King and all.”

Thales made his way past the guards in the third row, pleased to see them willingly making way for him.

“So please do us all a favour and be considerate of the King’s difficulties!

“Just act as if... you didn’t see me?”

The guards could not believe their ears, exchanging glances and seeking guidance from their superiors. However, the chief commander was still inside the Ballard Room, rendering their efforts futile.

“Excuse me, coming through!”

Thales steadily moved forward, surrounded by countless surprised and wary gazes. He was half-

heartedly pushing through the crowd, all while muttering to himself,

5 ‘half-heartedly pushing through’; #221 H, lit. to dispel the clouds and see the sun (idiom); fig. to restore justice.

“The event’s over; time to catch the subway home. Tomorrow, it’s back to school and work...” Just as he wondered why this group of sweaty and somewhat smelly men did not seem to understand the concept of making way, Adrian stepped out of the Ballard Room and issued a solemn command,

“Royal Guards, all of you here today, report to your immediate superiors, get back to your posts, and each of you is on night shift duty!”

The guards visibly flinched, and a stir quickly followed.

From afar, Adrian gave Thales a meaningful glance and added with a complex expression,

“We still have some... paperwork to deal with.”

Thales watched with satisfaction as the crowded guards in the corridor finally dispersed. Before leaving, many of them could not resist stealing glances at Thales. Their gazes were as if they were looking at a monster, filled with awe, wariness, and doubt.

“Your Highness, we are glad to see you are safe.”

Thales paused and addressed the nobles in their fine clothing ahead of him.

“Your Excellency, Prime Minister Cullen,” the Prince sighed and glanced at the amiable, rotund old Duke and the courtiers around him, whose expressions conveyed a blend of emotions laden with unspoken thoughts.

“And Advisor Solder, Chief Kirkirk, and Viscount Kenney too... Have you all been waiting here the whole time?”

“No, not at all!”

Prime Minister Cullen looked positively thrilled and gave his well-rounded belly a hearty pat.

“T just got here after dinner!”

(‘Td sneak out, but this... bunch won’t leave...” a chagrined Kirkirk mumbled.)

“After all...”

The Prime Minister gestured towards the Ballard Room with a roll of his eyes,

“The meeting is not quite over yet.”

Thales nodded, his gaze moving past the prime minister to the other courtiers behind him. Gilbert, he noted, was not among them.

“Well, now it is,” the young man stated calmly.

However, Advisor Solder, who had been closely observing him, could not ignore the peculiar

undertone in the Prince’s words.

“Your Highness,” after some hesitation, Minister of Trade Kenney, who had been keeping an eye on Ballard Room, finally ventured to ask, “You and His Majesty, what...”

“Oh, not much, really. I just got a bit bored and felt like picking a fight with him,” Thales brushed it off with a broad smile on his face.

“That’s about it.”

got a bit bored and felt like picking a fight with him...

The courtiers exchanged glances, picking up on each other’s confusion.

“About what?” Viscount Kenney, the Minister of Trade, pressed further, “Your marriage?” Thales let out a soft snort.

“Yeah, I guess he will not be pushing me to marry someone I’m not keen on anymore.”

Thales had the military advisor, Solder, puzzled with his words. Compared to the morning, this young man, who had just walked out of the Ballard Room, felt like a stranger to him.

Most of the Royal Guards dispersed, save those on guard duty, and occasionally threw glances in the direction of this group of central high-ranking officials.

“I see,” Viscount Kenney persisted. “May I be so bold as to ask which family’s young lady was the one you rejected?”

Thales exhaled, feeling irrationally annoyed.

“Whichever family or whoever she is,” but thankfully, Duke Cullen, with his ever-present smile, jumped in just in time to handle a topic that Thales was keen to put to rest, “I am sure you would not mind, then, considering a few of my granddaughters?”

Thales responded with a half-hearted smile. Observing that the surrounding crowd had dispersed to some extent, he was not going to wear out his welcome, “His Majesty has said that today’s Imperial Conference shall end here. Let us all head our separate ways.”

This declaration took everyone by surprise.

“Great!”

Kirkirk, who had been half-dozing, suddenly opened his eyes and snapped his fingers with delight. “T knew it!”

Advisor Solder furrowed his brow.

“But we still have some matters to address...”

6 ‘persisted’; A¥4K 7S 1%, not to overlook, nor spare (idiom); unwilling to forgive.

7 “with delight’; Rei, to shed tears of gratitude (idiom); moved to tears.

“T am aware,” Thales interrupted him with a wave of his hand, his impatience telling.

“There’s still things left to talk about, isn’t there?”

Thales turned his attention to Ballard Room, fixing his gaze on the faint figure, and with a smirk, he said,

“Such as... oh, the substitute service, taxes, the Western Desert, expanding the regular army, cutting back on drafted soldiers...”

He spoke with casual disregard, not bothering to hush his words, which left not only Solder but also the other courtiers noticeably uneasy.

“Your Highness, please choose your words carefully,” the military advisor cut in, nervously scanning the surroundings, “This is... Well, this is...”

Thales slapped his forehead as if a sudden realisation had struck him.

“Oh, right, this is a state secret,” the Prince lazily turned to the few remaining royal guards and announced loudly, “So, this is, uh, a state secret, folks. You didn’t hear a thing! Not a word! Got it?”

The guards turned around, puzzled, not sure what was happening.

The informed courtiers exchanged knowing glances with pale faces.

Solder, in particular, was visibly shaken.

“Aye aye aye, believe it or not, Your Highness,” Prime Minister Cullen smoothly interrupted the conversation again with just the right amount of gusto,

“But this time the chefs at the Renaissance Palace have actually pulled off quite a surprise—a brand-new dish!”

Thales, exhausted after a long day, just wanted to find a flat spot to lie down. He had no patience left to put up with any more pretence or exchange pleasantries with the Duke of the Eastern Sea. With a polite but slightly forced smile, he simply said, “Very well, good night.”*

Without even bothering to gauge the Duke’s reaction, he turned and walked away.

“Wait, the meeting isn’t over,” Behind him, Advisor Solder made a last-ditch attempt to halt some ministers from leaving. “Gentlemen, with all due respect, but today’s meeting is of utmost importance. The Kingdom is in a critical situation at this very moment, and the enemy has already

made a move. We need to act...”

8 ‘pretence or exchange pleasantries’; Hi Zee, (idiom) deal with sb. Courteously but without sincerity; pretend politeness and compliance.

Thales halted in his tracks.

“Oh, and he wanted me to pass on a message to you, my lords.”

Thales turned around, pointing his thumb towards Ballard Room with a hint of a smile.

“The Kingdom’s Secret Intelligence Department was right on time.

“That letter... is safe.”

As soon as these words left his mouth, the courtiers stood frozen all at once.

“Letter?” Viscount Kenney tried to recall, sounding a bit doubtful. “Oh, you mean the one that just arrived today—”

Advisor Solder blurted out in surprise, “S-safe?”

“What does that mean?”

The Chief of Finance, Kirkirk, rolled his eyes without much hesitation. “You mean, they caught the person who intentionally leaked Covendier’s letter?”

The courtiers collectively gasped.

“Kirkirk!”

“My bad, I spoke too soon,” Kirkirk shrugged, not particularly concerned, as he turned around. “But that guy from the Secret Department said they couldn’t...”

The Chief of Finance’s face changed as he turned to scan the room. “‘That’s strange; where’s that scar-faced guy? I could have sworn he was here just a moment ago! Where did he go?”

“The letter has been recovered, which means,” Viscount Kenney stated solemnly, “we still have some leeway, as long as we all act like that letter never existed, right?”

Thales watched the officials go back and forth with a cold, thoughtful gaze.

It was weird. Earlier in the morning, during the Imperial Conference briefing, he had not felt this way.

This odd, detached, indifferent, and, in part, tedious feeling, as if a thick curtain separated them... The feeling of making a move on a chessboard.

Yes, that was it.

Just like... when he used his mystic energy.

Thales felt a heaviness in his heart.

Amidst all the bustling discussions among the courtiers, only Duke Cullen stayed out of the commotion, squinting his eyes and wearing a smile. “Ah, that’s a relief.”

“With the Kingdom’s Secret Intelligence Department at work, there will not be any room for tricks.”

Advisor Solder, in disbelief, gritted his teeth and started walking towards the Ballard Room.

“No, this can’t be. I need to see His Majesty...”

But Thales gently raised his arm, blocking Solder’s path. “Please do not, Lord Solder.

“T tore up that letter right in front of him just ten minutes ago,” the Prince casually explained. “His Majesty is in a foul mood right now.”

Thales’ offhand comment hushed the room of ministers all at once.

They turned to look at the young man, surprise evident on their faces, and one of them asked, “What?”

Solder, now facing Thales, wide-eyed in disbelief, stuttering, “Letter, y-you...?”

Thales dropped his arm and nodded without much emotion. “Trust me, you do not want to face him now, let alone bring up this matter.”

Solder’s breath quickened, and his face flushed with anger. He fell silent for a moment and then made a beeline for Thales, “You—”

“Hey, take it easy, Solder! Easy now!” Kirkirk, who had seen this coming, grabbed Solder around the waist from the side, using all his might to keep him from moving forward. “Calm down; that’s the Prince, the Prince, for heaven’s sake! Aye, aye, the letter is gone, but we weren’t planning to use it anyway. Plus, there was no leak, so no need to worry. Why the rush...”

The other ministers came to their senses and quickly gathered around, trying to reason with Solder. Thales watched the scene with an icy, calculating gaze.

The Prime Minister hummed a cheerful tune with a smirk on his face.

However, Solder continued to struggle, his frustration evident. “No, you don’t understand; you really don’t! Do you know what that is, that is—”

“Sure, I do,” Thales replied blandly, “that is what my life was traded for—the Covendier’s surrender letter.”

Solder paused, his actions coming to a halt.

3 ‘stayed out of the commotion’; 434+, (idiom) stay aloof from the matter; keep out of the business; refuse to be drawn into the matter; stay away from.

“Oh, by the way, the next time you are considering mobilising the regular army or poking into someone else’s accounts, or anything of the sort,” Thales turned around slowly, smiling at the clustered Military Advisor and Chief of Finance, “just give me a heads-up, okay?”

He shrugged in resignation, “Otherwise, I will have to do this all over again.”

The military advisor choked, closed his eyes, and let out a long breath.

The officials exchanged uncertain glances.

“Oh dear, do take care. You know, at your age, trying new dishes can give you an upset stomach,” the Duke of the Eastern Sea offered some words of comfort, reaching out a hand.

“Duke Thales, Your Highness,” Solder finally managed to regain his composure. He looked both puzzled and concerned. “What happened?”

Thales shrugged..

“Not much, really. His Majesty had a change of heart, that’s all.”

“But it shouldn’t have gone this way,” Solder pressed, grinding his teeth in frustration. “What role did you play in all of this?”

“What role?’

Thales’s gaze grew steady.

“Just... your life saviour,” he stated calmly, looking at each and every court official.

“No need to thank me, my lords.”

Solder stared at him in utter disbelief, while Kirkirk frowned deeply. Some were unsure, and others appeared lost in their own reflections.

Prime Minister Cullen, on the other hand, chuckled heartily; his round belly jiggled as he offered a bow.

“Tam deeply grateful for your life-saving deed,” he expressed.

Thales did not acknowledge him.

“The real question here should be, Sir Solder,” the Prince said with indifference as he observed the shaken military advisor, “you, His Majesty, and maybe even that Scarface.

“What role did you all play?”

With those words, Thales did not linger any longer and made his exit.

Behind him, Solder watched Thales’s retreating figure with a solemn gaze.

But as Thales continued down the well-lit corridor, his thoughts returned to recent events.

+, 1"

“T know what you are after,” the King’s voice filled the room, its sharpness mellowed by a touch of hoarseness.

“You want to be the Kingdom’s charioteer,” King Kessel said calmly, “do both; hold the reins of the galloping warhorse and fasten the heavy chariot.”

warhorse... chariot

As Thales stood by the council table, he took a moment to gather his thoughts. “The horse will not submit to the lash, nor will the coachman give up on lashing it.” 1°

“You think you are protecting the chariot,” the King shook his head. “But in doing so, you are not only slowing down the warhorse but also getting in the way of the chariot.”

‘Of course, he knows.’

Thales told himself.

He had known all along.

He just... didn’t care.

“As you say, Your Majesty,” Thales said, reining in his emotions and taking his seat slowly. “I am teetering on the edge, dreaming of the wide-open sky.”

The Iron Hand King snorted, half-smiling.

“This path is full of risks. One wrong step, and...”

“T understand,” Thales quickly responded. “If it becomes known that I am the King’s inside man, I will be seen as a traitor by countless vassals, pointed at by a thousand fingers, and scorned by tens of thousands.”

The King nodded gravely.

“They will hate you more than they hate me,” he said.

Thales twirled a spoon in his hand, and after a moment of silence, he remarked, “In that case, we better not mess up our act.”

The King shook his head slowly.

“Failure actually would be the best-case scenario,” he replied.

“But what if you play your role too well, staying hidden beneath the facade, and everyone buys into it, seeing you as the saviour of the vassals, their beacon of hope...”

King Kessel observed Thales closely, his tone turning icy.

10 Chapter 493, official translations.

“Those who get deceived by you and support you will gather like a relentless wave. They will use your reputation, your position, your alliances, interests, connections, and the situation— everything—to push you forward. You won’t have a say, control, or a chance for a change of heart.”

“They will love you, even more than they hate me.”

Thales’ smile slowly faded.

The King’s words were matter-of-fact.

“When that time comes, you will not have a choice. Even if you wanted to get off the moving carriage halfway of the journey, it would be too late.”!!

Fakenhaz’s words rang in his ears again:

“You must understand, when your suzerains and subordinates are indignant, when all of them stand tall and fearless, besides going along with the flow, you do not have many other choices when you stand in front of the tide.” |?

Thales swallowed the words he wanted to say.

“And on the flip side...”

King Kessel looked towards the door, his expression a mix of complexity.

“When you hoist the flag of rebellion against royal authority, more than just the regional suzerains will rally behind you.

“Under the Renaissance Palace, the growing faction of royal supporters, the ambitious emerging nobility, the turncoat opportunists, and those who once showed you goodwill and friendship—they will all treat you as a political rival and a disloyal son. They will not hesitate to make things difficult for you to further their own interests.”'°

Thales clenched his teeth.

Names like Gilbert, Putray, Solder, Kirkirk, Viscount Kenney, and many others flashed before Thales’ eyes.

There were even a few moments when the image of that purple mask flickered in his mind.

11 ~won’t have a choice’; 7* HG, without the freedom to act independently (idiom); involuntary.

12 Chapter 582, official translations.

13 ‘turncoat’; Jl XE #E, lit. see the wind and set the helm (idiom); fig. to act pragmatically

“From that moment on, the title of heir will not offer you protection anymore. In fact, it will amplify the fear and scrutiny you face, making the price and suffering you have to endure greater. To many, the day of the new King’s coronation will be a day of impending disaster.”

King Kessel narrowed his eyes.

“They will hate you more than they love me.”

Thales did not respond.

He looked around, took a deep breath, and exhaled heavily.

The evening breeze gently rustled the curtains by the window, and their silhouettes danced in the lamplight.

In the stillness of the night, the Ballard Room felt cold and serene. Portraits of renowned ministers from the past hung on the walls—‘Wise Prime Minister’ Halva, ‘Oracle’ Layden, ‘Hyena’ Amber Tabark, ‘Woodcutter’ Parramatta—silently witnessing the conversation between the father and son, their images fading in and out in the lamplight.

This led Thales to wonder: were their forefathers who once shaped the course of the nation in this very meeting room and the decisions they made as stern and ruthless as this grand palace?

“Well, in that case, I can only hope,” Thales mused, somewhat in a trance.

King Kessel said nothing, just gazing at his son.

A few seconds later, Thales turned his gaze back to the King, wearing a gentle smile. “Hope that they...

“aren't driven by true love?”