Chapter 157: The Death of Soria

Translator: EndlessFantasy Translation Editor: EndlessFantasy Translation

Eckstedt, Dragon Clouds City, Heroic Spirit Palace.

Nuven the Seveth’s administrator, Lord Byrne Mirk was standing in the corridor outside the Hall of Heroes. He was staring into the murky, snowy sky, deeply absorbed in his thoughts.

The White Blade Guards were on standby around him; their gazes were sharp and grim.

Mirk lost count of the times he stared at the falling snow in Northland throughout the forty years of his life.

The leader of the king’s entourage and current head of the White Blade Guards, Nicholas the Star Killer approached him from behind and stood next to him.

"Winter will be harsh this year," said Lord Mirk without turning to look at him.

"I think so too, old pal." Nicholas squinted as he peered at the snow outside the window and smiled in a strange manner.

"Do you remember when we were still new in the White Blade Guards, those days of training in the harsh winter?"

"Of course I do." Lord Mirk, who had been working as an administrator for years flashed him a slight smirk. "Just like you now, that stone-faced Kaslan trained us mercilessly... We called him ’iceberg’ behind his back, even in our sleep. We prayed for him to die early or be spouseless for the rest of his life."

"Until the day his wife came to visit him at the camp." Nicholas guffawed. "Monty was extremely shocked... Who knew Iceberg’s wife could be so beautiful? The injustice!"

Mirk stared into the distance.

’Right.’

He recalled when he first joined the White Blade Guards twenty years ago. The infamous Ground-Shaker Commander Kaslan Lampard chased the new recruits out to the field with a whip in the bitter winter. At that time, those who could make it into the White Blade Guards were mostly strongmen who had fought in the frontlines.

"Feeling cold? The north wind and harsh winter are the greatest gift bestowed on us Northlanders by the Master of the Mountains. They make you stronger, tougher and unstoppable!" That was what Kaslan told them.

Mirk still remembered his old superior’s brawny physique. It was like that of a snow land grizzly, and his frost-covered face was filled with an unwavering ferocity. "Stop slacking, take off all your clothes, and start running—there’s some hot water at the finishing line. If you can’t make it within half an hour, you’ll freeze to death!"

Thinking of this, Mirk averted his gaze to Nicholas and asked, "Are you still carrying out the rite of initiation? Making the new recruits run around on the field in the bitter winter?"

"Absolutely. We were all tormented the same way," Nicholas said, chuckling. "Wouldn’t it be unfair if we let the new recruits off the hook?"

The both of them exchanged glances, smiling.

At that time, the legendary, undefeatable Kaslan was still young and robust; Dominic the ’Blood Mace’ had yet to die in the White Mountain battle; and Terende the ’Inextinguishable Blaze’, who counted the laps as they ran with an infuriating smile on his face still carried his Motionless Bow with black and silver stripes in a truly pompous manner.

At that time also, three of the future Five War Generals were gathered there: Soray Nicholas was merely a haughty, misanthropic newbie, and had not gotten the nickname ’Star Killer’ at the Fortress. No one would believe that a little rogue like him, who was frequently targeted by bullies would become Kaslan’s successor someday. No one expected that Yvsia Sullian, nicknamed ’Spike Wind’ and ’Prince of Guards’ (for he often whined about the canteen food) would make himself known in the legendary Battle of the Thirty-Eighth Sentry Ground. Perhaps no one would have believed that the formidable ’Raven of Death’, Nate Monty, used to be an archer from the countryside, who liked to tell dirty jokes and ogle women on the street as well as gauge the sizes of their bottoms.

They were young and dauntless warriors, one prouder and more impulsive than the other— Mirk still remembered, to this day, that due to Nicholas’ disobedience, he was tied to a pole in front of all the new recruits. With a small piece of plank between his teeth, he groaned as Kaslan beat his body into a bloody pulp using a thorny whip.

Under Kaslan’s merciless training, they became King Nuven’s most trusted weapons, the toughest of the Dragon’s Imperial Guards. They bled on the ground of Glacial Sentries, on the battlefield of White Mountain’s valley, the maze-like Golden Passage, and the Broken Dragon Fortress, leaving behind countless bodies of their comrades. They wept for their defeat, chanted war songs amid the battles, and drank themselves to oblivion to celebrate their victories. Finally, they carved their names on the platinum-coated pages of the ’Legend of White Blade Guards’ alongside the names of Northland’s heroes from the Ancient Empire Era.

Those were the days. Now, everything felt like a dream.

There was also a young man with a bright grin, who kept his blue-blood status a secret. He trained with them back in the day, and fought Mirk for a bowl of broth.

’That cheeky fellow.’

Thinking of this, Mirk could not help but smile. However, the glint of joy soon faded from his eyes and he sighed. His own daughter became twenty this day.

It was then Nicholas’ turn to sigh as well. "It’s time."

Snapping back from his flashbacks, Mirk kept the memories deep in his heart. He turned around and bowed slightly before the two petite figures beside him. "Please come with me, Lady Alex."

"It’s four in the morning!" Wrapped in a thick coat, Alex Walton, a drowsy, sweet-looking girl, looked like she had been dragged out of bed a while ago. She was rubbing her eyes with one hand, and blowing hot breath into another. "If there’s anything to discuss, why can’t we just do it tomorrow?" she hissed.

Seeing this, Lord Mirk silently lamented.

’This girl is too spoiled.

’Her temperament is akin to that which belongs to daughters of rich merchants, or jumped-up vulgarians.

’This is not good—she’s still the last direct descendent of the Walton Family despite being a girl.’

"I told you—this is an order from His Majesty." Lord Mirk nodded with a vacant expression. "And believe me when I say what happens next is crucial to your future, Your Highness."

The king’s granddaughter looked away and huffed, expressing her discontent as well as frustration.

Alex pulled her robe tighter around herself and glanced at the person behind her. Her girlish voice was filled with resentment. "Then, why is this lowly servant here?!"

Mirk scowled.

Standing behind Alex was a skinny, shabbily-dressed girl. She had platinum hair and she wore a pair of black, thick-framed glasses. The poor girl was shivering in the wintry midnight wind. Hearing what her mistress said, she stepped back timidly.

"She’s also here under His Majesty’s order," Mirk answered coldly. "We must obey."

Alex was immediately silenced. She glared at Little Rascal, who was standing behind her and the latter threw her arms around herself pitifully.

Mirk nodded, escorting the girls towards the Hall of Heroes.

Alex yawned and lifted her chin pridefully. Meanwhile, Little Rascal followed her mistress and kept her head down. She flinched and took a small step back when she spotted a formidable-looking member of the White Blade Guard.

At that very second, Nicholas called out to Mirk from behind.

"Byrne, do you still remember the moment we raised our white blades and took an oath of allegiance before the ’Legend of White Blade Guards?’" Nicholas inhaled deeply, his gaze brimming with nostalgia. "Do you recall the last few lines?"

Mirk thought that Nicholas had been behaving somewhat oddly the entire day—he was never so sentimental on other days.

He gazed at Nicholas, searching for hints in his stoic face.

"Of course." The training in his early days had become part of his muscle memory. Mirk gave a light chuckle before his facial expression stiffened. "I swear on my blood, my body, my sword, my soul..." Word by word, he uttered the phrase.

Nicholas’ eyes gleamed. He nodded and with Mirk, he recited the next line, "Ward off the enemies and win countless battles until we bleed out."

The White Blade Guards around them each had on a stern look. Together, they placed their fists on their chests. "Fend for countless lives, fear not of death till the end of humanity."

Alex, who was waiting impatiently rolled her eyes and huffed.

Little Rascal on the other hand, was excited by the sight of the grim-faced White Blade Guards.

"Be guardians of the future, honor your beliefs till the sun and the moon grow dim.

"This is the ’New Oath of White Blade Guards’," Little Rascal muttered. "Year 1386 in the Empire Calendar, Seyre Arunde recovered the ’Legend of the White Blade Guards’, and reassembled the renowned White Blade Guards, combining the ’Old Oath’ and the Knighthood Pledge..."

"Shut your mouth, idiot!" Alex hissed at her. "You’re really annoying."

Little Rascal’s eyes reddened and she lowered her head.

Nicholas and Mirk glanced at each other and chanted in unison.

"Leave a legacy of hope, cast the light of glory, till the world falls into an eternal slumber."

They exchanged a wordless smile.

Mirk nodded and led the two girls into the Hall of Heroes to meet the man he respected the most.

Nuven the Seventh, who had recently fought in a duel was sitting on the staircase in one of the corners in the hall.

Seated beside the king was the envoy from Constellation, whom his fellow vassals would not stop talking about—the young and intelligent Prince Thales Jadestar. The two of them however, were sitting side by side in silence. They did not seem to be in a good mood, as though they had just ended an unpleasant conversation.

Mirk ushered the two seemingly confused girls towards the king.

The administrator nodded at the king, and stepped aside. "Your Majesty, Lady Alex is here."

Thales lifted his chin.

’What’s going on?’

He gawked at the blue-eyed brunette and Little Rascal behind her, who appeared to be petrified by the situation at hand.

Noticing his gaze, the preteen girl responded with a glare. Thales just frowned.

’So, this is...

’My future wife?’

Fazed by the secret King Nuven had told him earlier, Thales looked away subconsciously and sighed.

Witnessing his attitude, Alex’s lips protruded in a sulky pout.

"What is it, grandpa?" Alex Walton, the sole remaining direct female descendent of the Archduke of Dragon Clouds City pouted. "I’m very tired..." She fawned over the blank-faced king.

Little Rascal was hiding behind Alex. She stuck her head out cautiously and sneaked a curious peek at the seemingly dejected Thales.

’That boy... what happened to him?

’Is he unhappy?’

Nuven the Seventh did not reply. With a goblet, he scooped some wine from a keg beside next to him, and took a sip.

"Mirk," the old king’s raspy voice sounded, "my granddaughter will marry this boy.

"As a former member of the White Blade Guards and my current administrator, what should you do?"

Mirk frowned slightly.

’Although it’s expected, but when one hears it for real...’

"What?!"

Lady Alex screamed.

Her teeny eyes widened larger than her gaping mouth. She scanned Thales from head to toe in disbelief. "Grandpa, you’re handing me over in marriage to... this-this...

"You want him to be my husband?" Alex’s breathing accelerated. She stared at the moping Thales—the boy whom she ran into in the library yesterday evening, the boy who chastised her in front of her servant. A wave of exasperation washed over her.

"He is skinny, and so much shorter than me!" Alex whipped around and told her grandfather, "Marrying Little Rascal to him is more like it!"

Little Rascal, who stood behind her paled and began to tremble.

"Come on, Lady Alex." Brooding, Thales had no energy or intention to maintain his relationship with a preteen girl. Without looking at her, he coldly said, "Marrying you is not exactly good news to me either."

Alex was taken aback, but her astonishment soon turned into anger. "You little—"

At that very moment, Mirk spoke, interrupting Alex who was about to lose it.

"Despite the fact that Prince Thales comes from Constellation, if this is Your Majesty’s wish..." Lord Mirk lowered his head respectfully and subtly signaled for Alex to keep quiet. "I will devote myself to him as I have to Lady Alex."

King Nuven stared at him for a full three seconds.

"Good." The king turned to Thales and said, "I believe you’ve met before. This is Byrne Mirk—back when he was in the White Blade Guards, he was Soria’s most trusted subordinate."

’Soria?’

Thales’ expression changed.

’King Nuven’s eldest son?’

He looked up at Mirk, who also turned to him and gave him a polite nod.

Fuming, Alex attempted to speak, but she was silenced by Mirk’s stern glare.

As it seemed—Thales thought—this spoiled girl with horrible temper really listened to her father’s former subordinate.

"So, to express my gratitude for your aid, and prove that there’s no more ill feelings between us, following Northland’s custom, after you take a sip of this wine, Jadestar and Walton will be allies from then on." King Nuven narrowed his eyes, lifted the wine goblet, and placed it before Thales.

Thales frowned as he peered at the old king with bemusement.

’What is he doing?

’Is he reiterating my status to Alex and Mirk, or the relationship between us?

’Is it even necessary?’

The Prince of Constellation pondered for a few seconds and sighed. "You know, Lampard of Black Sand Region did the same thing—he handed me a cup of wine and asked me to become his ally. I rejected him though."

"Clever decision," King Nuven said, feeling amused. "How about now?"

Pressured by King Nuven’s stare, Thales pursed his lips.

"Shouldn’t we wait till tomorrow, after you send out your messenger crow and wait for my father’s reply?" Thales asked cautiously. "If my father has other terms to—"

"That will be an issue between your father and I." King Nuven’s firm gaze implied his sincere determination. "But you are you, Thales. I am speaking to you not as the son of Kessel Jadestar, or as the Second Prince of Constellation—this has nothing to do with the diplomatic marriage between you and my granddaughter, or whether Jadestar will ally with Walton.

"I am asking about your opinion, Thales." The old king raised the goblet and his eyes lit up. "Do you wish to put the personal vendetta between us, between you and the Walton Family behind?

"I am asking you, and only you."

Thales felt a jolt.

He realized that ever since he was crowned as prince, this had been the first time someone addressed him as "Thales" without the history and status that came with said name.

Thales looked King Nuven in the eye.

At last, the Prince of Constellation sighed.

"Certainly." Thales received the goblet from the king, staring into the black wheat wine that filled half of the goblet.

Seeing Mirk’s vigilant stare, Alex’s sulky pout, and Little Rascal’s curious, anxious gaze, the old king smirked.

Thales closed his eye and took a small sip of the drink.

He thought he knew all about alcoholic drinks in this world—the scullery in Jala’s Sunset Pub supplied countless brands and Thales often dug around for them. Nonetheless, when he swallowed the wine, he finally realized that no two types of alcohols were the same in this world.

’At least, the rye wine exclusively served to the King of Eckstedt is...’

*Cough, cough, cough...*

Thales flung the goblet onto the staircase and began to cough violently!

The tangy, pungent taste of the alcohol gushed down his throat, filled his mouth, his nostrils, and his brain!

In his past life, he was a guy with extremely low alcohol tolerance. Thales did not know whether his current body was better than that, but he knew one thing for sure—rye wine was definitely not something he could take!

*Cough, cough...*

Thales’ cheeks were now red and his eyes were brimming with tears.

"Hahaha." Seeing that, Nuven chuckled happily. "Maybe we should start with something more child-friendly."

Thales felt a surge of warmth across his face.

Shortly after, he eventually recomposed himself. He stared at the wine goblet with a sullen look. Then, he huffed and shook his head as he said, "It’s alright... Kaslan told me that a child will never grow up of he doesn’t drink."

Mirk’s face twitched.

’Kaslan?’

Hearing that name, King Nuven’s smile froze.

Little Rascal appeared as though she had heard his name before. Her eyes gleamed behind her glasses as she fixed her gaze on Thales.

The king looked at Thales in an odd manner. "Kaslan?

"The old fellow who sells alcohol in Black Sand Region?"

The taste of alcohol gradually faded from Thales’ mouth and nose, after which he let out a sheepish chuckle.

’Have I said something wrong?’

Holding the king’s gaze, he stuttered, "Umm... I-I heard from Putray that he was the head of your personal guards, the former commander of the White Blade Guards."

King Nuven continued to stare at Thales, who felt a little uneasy due to the attention.

Then, the king spoke again.

"The best Eckstedt ever had," he said, sighing. "Although saying this is a little unfair to Nicholas."

Lord Mirk, who was standing few feet away nodded. He also cast a warning glance at Alex, who was left aside and seemed like she was about to throw a tantrum again.

King Nuven murmured, "Kaslan. So, you met him... He mentioned me to you?"

"Yeah." Thales flashed an awkward smile, nodding. "Kaslan said, you used to be a good king."

Nuven the Seventh was slightly startled. He then slapped his thigh and let out a hearty laugh. "Hahahahaha!"

"’Used to be’?" King Nuven caught the keywords instantly and continued to guffaw. "Well said!"

Astonished, Thales shrugged helplessly.

The king’s laughter echoed throughout the hall.

Mirk lowered his head slightly.

King Nuven suddenly stopped laughing. Sighing, he seemed to be reminiscing about the past.

"Tell me, what did that old fellow say about me?" he snorted and asked.

Thales watched King Nuven’s facial expression closely. "He said, you are only human. You will age, and will be driven by desire, rumors, and impulse someday."

The smile faded from the king’s face.

His gaze flickered with hints of strange emotions.

And Thales was beginning to feel on edge.

Eventually, King Nuven gave a long sigh. "I can’t say he is wrong."

Silence ensued.

"Now, Thales, why don’t you serve our beautiful maiden a cup of wine?" King Nuven said abruptly. He handed the goblet to Thales and nodded at Alex. "Given your future relationship..."

Receiving the goblet, Thales was startled by his request.

’What is going on?

’Make the arrogant, pampered young mistress... drink the rye wine?’

Lord Mirk, who was watching this not too far away was also puzzled.

"Huh?" Alex turned white. Frantic, she peeked at Thales. and then the metal wine goblet, shaking her head stubbornly. "No, Grandpa, I don’t want to..."

King Nuven stared at her quietly and coldly.

Terrified by the old king’s gaze, she lowered her voice.

Nevertheless, the king’s granddaughter refused to give up. Her frown faded when an idea dawned on her. She turned around and tugged at Little Rascal. "She can! Let her drink on my behalf! She is my servant after all!"

Being dragged forward by her mistress, the unsuspecting Little Rascal panicked. The bespectacled girl glanced at King Nuven, then at Thales. She was close to tears. "I... that... No..."

Thales squinted at them, bemused.

Right at that moment, Mirk spoke up.

"Lady Alex!"

The king’s administrator stared at Alex sternly. His gaze was filled with wrath. "Stop making a big fuss!"

Alex’s voice faltered and she flinched timidly.

"It is an order from your grandfather, your king!" Mirk pulled Alex away from Little Rascal with a forceful tug. "Obey him, whether it’s about the wine...

"Or your marriage."

Chastised by Mirk and pressured by King Nuven’s beseeching gaze, Alex stepped forward dolefully.

She took the goblet from Thales with much reluctance. With her reddened eyes, she glared at him, and looked at King Nuven pitifully, but the latter appeared unfazed.

Thales shrugged, implying there was nothing he could do.

Being left with no choice, Alex pouted and downed the wheat wine angrily.

Alex dropped the wine goblet with rage and shot Thales a sharp stare. A few seconds later, she started to cough due to the heavy taste of the alcohol.

The king chuckled lightly.

"Mirk, this reminds me of Soria’s drinking habit," King Nuven said, laughing. "I heard from Kaslan that when he was in training with the White Blade Guards, he’d win every drinking game."

"Yes." Mirk also laughed and nodded. "Prince Soria was... very easy-going, and he really could drink."

"Yes. I recall you have a close relationship?" King Nuven looked up at Mirk with much nostalgia.

"We knew each other since a long time ago. All the way back when you let him train with the White Blade Guards under a fake identity." Mirk had somewhat of a half-smile as he nodded. "He wasn’t just the prince. He was my fellow comrade and friend—I still remember his hearty laugh."

King Nuven’s lips curved.

Ignoring the glare Alex aimed at him, Thales watched the king and his vassal as they reminisced about the former Crown Prince, Soria Walton, thinking whether he should leave.

"Yes. He likes to laugh like that— like me.

"It’s such a shame that he went and got himself a sulky wife." King Nuven sighed. "I remember every time they dined with me, they never took a proper look at each other."

"Lady Adele came from Vine City in the southwest region of Camus, where the climate was warm and humid. Moreover, she was the daughter of a marquis and she never got used to the arduous Northlandic life." Lord Mirk glanced at Alex and heaved a sigh. "Lady Alex obviously inherited much of her mother’s personality traits."

Alex pouted once again.

King Nuven snorted lightly.

"Thales." King Nuven cast the Prince of Constellation an icy look as the latter was about to excuse himself. "I told you that my eldest son’s death was not an accident, but an assassination."

Mirk seemed slightly startled.

’Soria?’

He peeked at Thales, then at King Nuven. He hesitated to speak.

The next thing that came out of the old king’s mouth threw him off balance.

"Tell him, Mirk," King Nuven said coldly. "How did my son, Soria, die?"

Thales held his breath. He took a peek at Mirk, his mind laden with questions.

’Something isn’t right.

’The eldest prince? Why mention an incident that happened so long ago?’

Besides, it was a hard topic—did he bring this up on purpose?

Alex seemed to know how serious this topic was. She quieted down and had a timid expression.

"Your Majesty," Lord Mirk voiced his objection with a grimace. "This topic is a little sensitive for Prince Thales’ position—"

He was interrupted by King Nuven.

"Tell him! He needs to know." The old king picked up his wine goblet from the floor with a cold look. "From the beginning to the end," he said.

Mirk gawked at King Nuven, whose expression became horrifyingly grim.

Intimidated, Alex looked down and took a step back, bumping into Little Rascal.

"Why?" Thales tried hard to subdue his tone of voice. "Your Majesty, you told me that the assassin was from Constellation, right?"

Mirk was startled. He was surprised by Thales’ knowledge of this detail.

King Nuven shot Mirk a stern glare.

Thales rolled his eyes, watching the awkward situation unfold. He secretly regretted not leaving sooner.

’The atmosphere’s really taking a turn for the worse.’

The administrator sighed, and began, "It happened twelve years ago, shortly before the winter came."

Thales was alarmed. ’Twelve years ago?

’Wasn’t it...’

"Prince Soria brought Lady Adele and Lady Alex out of Dragon Clouds City for a hunting trip. Lady Alex wasn’t even a year old yet.

"I was in charge of Prince Soria’s safety even before that, so Nicholas assigned me to protect them with a small unit of White Blade Guards." Mirk looked down. His voice was deep and filled with agony as he recalled the painful memory. "But things went wrong nonetheless."

Thales said nothing and listened closely.

"Coincidentally, Harold Lampard—the oldest son of the former Archduke of Black Sand Region was visiting Dragon Clouds City that day. He too, was heading to the same place to hunt." Mirk paused for a second before he continued. His voice began to shake.

"That assassin... had infiltrated Harold’s entourage."

Thales narrowed his eyes.

"He hid under Lady Adele’s wagon, waiting for Prince Soria to return after talking to Harold, and then..."

Mirk clutched his fist and clenched his teeth as he exhaled.

Sitting on the staircase, King Nuven remained silent. His gaze was numb and vacant.

"I shot out a signal arrow, requesting immediate aid." Thales could tell that what Mirk had gone through that day devastated him. His face twitched and his eyes were closed. "Nicholas stopped the assassin while he was getting away... but in the end, he managed to escape.

"Prince Soria was fatally wounded and he died of blood loss instantly... Lady Adele wanted to protect Lady Alex, and..."

Again, Lord Mirk squeezed his eyes shut in anguish. "I couldn’t protect them..."

Alex lowered her head and stared at the ground blankly, while Little Rascal, who stood behind her restrained her breath.

Lord Mirk eventually calmed down after a few seconds. He swallowed and began to speak woefully, "Although there was no substantial evidence, according to Secret Room’s investigation, we were certain that...

"The assassin came from Constellation. It was apparently ordered by the Royal Court."

Thales frowned.

’No way.

’The assassination twelve years ago?

’Wasn’t it the Bloody Year in Constellation?’

His thoughts were interrupted when King Nuven looked up and spoke in a gloomy, heavy tone.

"Thales, twelve years ago...

"We -->>

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