"Tell me, child, among so many orcs in the world...ahem...ahem..."
The uncle's voice was accompanied by a heavy cough, which could not be covered up even by the sound of the horse hooves of the guards on both sides.
"...Which one is the most dangerous?"
He raised his eyes from the soil under the horse's hooves:
"The kind that's about to die."
He was not in high spirits as he sat on the horse, lagging behind his uncle's carriage by a full body.
"Yes, the kind that is about to die." The uncle's weak voice seemed to be suddenly injected with new vitality.
Just like the uncle who was once in his prime, he pointed out the country and scolded Fang Qiu.
"Like the poisonous sting of a sand scorpion hidden behind its tail, like the fangs of a poisonous snake buried deep in its mouth, like the dangerous quicksand hidden underground."
At that time, my uncle's back was majestic and tall, his arms were strong, and his voice was deep and deep.
Thinking of this, he hummed, whipped his horse, and hurried a few steps to the carriage.
But my uncle was like the desert after a storm. After being boosted, his voice returned to a decadent hoarseness:
"So, which kind of orc is the safest?"
He answered calmly:
"The kind that dies."
"That's what old Maester Mann taught you," his uncle shook his head and said, "A dead orc is a good orc."
"But I say, Cyril, the safest orc..."
"It's also the kind that's on the verge of death."
He was stunned for a moment.
The uncle's weak voice rose and fell as the horse advanced:
"Because they are like the spent arrows of a powerful crossbow, like the wind tail of a terrible sandstorm, and like the afterglow of burned oil."
"The momentum is huge, but it has no staying power."
He pinched the horse's belly and frowned fiercely:
"This damn riddle...Old man, did you regain your prominence last night and become a female priest of the Mingye Temple?"
"Or worse... a male priest?"
The uncle's voice fell silent for a moment, and for a moment the only sound was the sound of the guards' hooves.
A few seconds later.
"All right."
The uncle chuckled helplessly while coughing:
"Maybe that's why I like you."
Listening to his uncle's coughing, which was worse than last week, his heart sank and he braced himself:
"'Like me'—if those are your last words, old man."
"I have to say, it's amazing."
He pretended to be relaxed and whistled:
"Let everyone who hears this think you are an old pervert who likes to play with your nephew."
The uncle was silent for a while again.
The guards on both sides were still marching side by side dutifully, their expressions unmoving, as if they had not heard their conversation at all.
After a long time, my uncle's helpless and weak voice finally sounded:
"...The dying orcs are both dangerous and safe, so why do the Barren Skeletons say that the Desert God has neither disaster nor forgiveness? Because disaster and forgiveness change back and forth in a single thought."
"Therefore, we must always be vigilant."
He scratched his ears helplessly.
The uncle's words continued, becoming more serious:
"The princes of the Blade Territory seem to have changed their minds and are keeping to themselves, but in fact, their nature is hard to change and they will make mistakes sooner or later."
"The fat and profiteers in the East China Sea appear to have extensive contacts and are kind and harmless, but they are accustomed to crossing the river and burning bridges when the wind blows."
"Yadi pretends to be aloof, arrogant, neutral and selfless, but they are just a bunch of stinky rats taking advantage of the natural dangers of the mountains."
"As for that courageous old bastard from Nan'an, huh, he's more closed-minded and conservative than the female priest who got out of bed."
"None of them can be relied upon."
The uncle's voice dropped.
He listened silently for a while and then suddenly said:
"Old man, you..."
"Have you really had sex with a female priest?"
There was a heavy thumping sound from the carriage!
"you--"
It seemed that my uncle was choked again, and his breathing became disordered.
A smile twitched from the corners of his lips.
Finally, the uncle suppressed his anger and sighed:
"Hey, forget it... In contrast, the old Dylan from the north is persevering and constantly striving for self-improvement..."
"It's a pity that their position is really bad. Once things change, they will be the first to bear the brunt and will be hard-pressed to help."
Sure enough, before I changed my uncle...he heard me make fun of him like this...
Feeling depressed, he no longer thought about it, but raised his head and looked at the growing vegetation on both sides of Enci Avenue:
"You seem to have missed the most important thing?"
Uncle's breath stopped.
The convoy turned a big bend, and several farmers driving the carts on the roadside shrank up tremblingly, waiting for the four-eyed skull flag to pass.
After a while, my uncle's weak voice sounded again, carrying the resentment and resentment that had persisted for years:
"The stars beyond the firmament...high above."
"You can only look far away, don't have delusions."
"Can't even be trusted."
He felt a deep chill from his uncle's tone.
"Remember."
The uncle's words turned into a thick and ominous cough.
He didn't speak.
After several seconds, he released his hand that was about to break the reins.
Amidst his uncle's uncomfortable coughing, he took a deep breath and forced himself to smile:
"Listening to what you say, we should just be independent loners."
“Everything doesn’t work together and everyone hates you?”
The uncle's coughing stopped, but he did not speak immediately. For a while, there was only the sound of horse hooves and wheels.
Finally, a long sigh came from the carriage:
"Isn't that exactly...the meaning of our existence?"
There is helplessness, but also relief.
Duke Falkenhaus opened his eyes.
In front of him, the prince was staring at him nervously.
Thales' arms were stiff behind his back, firmly holding the dagger in the quilt.
He looked through the half-smiling eyes of Duke Xihuang, and seemed to see another bloody and ferocious dead head with empty eye sockets.
Drill.
etc.
If Falkenhauser was the mastermind behind Heyman's assassination...
Why is he telling me now?
What are his interests in admitting this directly in front of another shining star?
Is it a preemptive move, a precursor to a falling out, or another purpose?
As usual, Thales took a deep breath, and while deliberately showing a surprised look that satisfied the other party, he began to think crazily about the key.
From the days of beggars to the career of princes, this trick has been very effective for weak-minded and self-righteous guys like Quaid and Nicolette, and even for cunning ghost-like guys like Ian and Monty the Dead Crow.
Miraculous effect: They can always gain a sense of superiority and wisdom from Thales's panic performance, thus exposing their biggest flaws in their contempt and satisfaction.
After experiencing many ups and downs, this has become Thales' most proficient instinct.
He was so skilled that he couldn't even tell when his gaffe was genuine and when it was staged.
But this trick sometimes fails.
For example, facing King Charmaine in the carriage.
for example……
Now.
"Why, you are living too comfortably in the Northland? Are you scared now?"
Duke Xihuang's playful words sounded again. He stared at Thales who seemed to be stunned, and seemed a little dissatisfied:
"What about this?"
Which?
Before Thales had time to think about it, he saw Cyril reaching out and holding the key on his crutch...
That long-handled sword.
The prince was so excited.
"Whoa!"
With the sound of metal rubbing against leather, the sword blade was unsheathed and drew a silver light in the air!
Oops!
The sin of the Hell River filled his nerves, and Thales instinctively fell off the bed and rolled on the spot!
Are you kidding me?
He stood up and bent his knees at a safe distance away from the silver light, held the dagger across his body, and assumed the Iron Body pose.
Thales looked at Cyril Falkenholz, who was still sitting peacefully on the chair, in shock.
The long-handled sword that had just been unsheathed was held in the Duke's hand. As the Duke's wrist turned slightly, it slowly drew an arc.
It's full of chill and awe-inspiring.
There's a hint of coercion.
"Very good, at least you are not as cowardly as you appear."
Cyril smiled sinisterly, ignoring the prince's pale face.
What are you doing?
Thales looked at Cyril in disbelief.
Is this... a fall out?
But what worries Thales even more is another thing:
Yodel, who was hiding in the dark, remained silent, and showed no reaction when he saw him in danger.
what happened?
Is that guy really angry because of what just happened?
The kind that can't be coaxed?
But just when Thales was thinking about a way out with a headache, a familiar hoarse voice still sounded softly in his ears.
"calm."
The voice of the masked guard was insubstantial, almost like a mosquito, but it made Thales' tight breathing relax:
"not him."
not him.
The familiar voice made Thales' heart fall back into his chest.
not him.
But at that moment, looking at Cyril's malicious smile, Thales seemed to have grasped something.
This is the Blade Tooth Camp, a territory directly under the royal family, where a considerable number of standing troops are stationed.
Wings of Legend on the side, King Kessel behind.
Taking responsibility for himself and threatening the prince - Falkenhauser should not do this in any case.
The prince, whose thoughts were interrupted by his fighting posture, took several deep breaths and forced himself to think again.
Then why...
Why……
not him.
After Yoder's reminder, Thales seemed to have figured out something and asked, but he did not dare to relax his fighting posture for a moment:
"Are you the murderer?"
Cyril stared at him steadily, the sword in his hand was extremely steady, and his eyes showed extraordinary splendor.
Finally, in the tense confrontation, Duke Xihuang chuckled and shook his head:
"It seems you don't know."
Under Thales' solemn expression, Cyril's cold smile slowly faded.
The Duke put the long-handled sword across his knees and played with it slowly, no longer looking at Thales.
I have no idea?
Thales, who didn't understand, took a deep breath and exhaled slowly.
"You said you put the assassin in front of Prince Heiman..."
The prince gritted his teeth and asked:
"but why……"
Falkenholtz didn't look back, he just looked at the exquisite long-handled sword on his lap.
"Because that is His will."
Thales' question came to an abrupt end.
His wish?
This time, before Thales started to ask, Duke Cyril answered softly, with an erratic voice and complicated emotions:
"He took the initiative to find them."
"Find those assassins - the Shadow Shield."
Thales was stunned.
But.
But……
Hyman?
And the Shadow Shield?
Thales understood what the Duke said and immediately his eyes widened.
"Eighteen years ago," Cyril said calmly:
"Haiman came to me and asked me to try my best to help him, to help him avoid the personal guards who were from the royal guard and the Bright Star soldiers, and to complete his private meeting with some strange 'guests'."
"More than once."
Avoid personal guards.
Strange guests.
The cold wind blew into the room, causing Duke Xihuang's leather robe to shake slightly and his gray hair to flutter slightly.
The wind even stirred up endless flying dust, revealing its true form in the sunlight that people don't often notice - countless particles flying back and forth, tumbling strangely in the air.
Cyril's eyes were still spinning and seemed to be shining:
"Until...the last time."
the last time.
For some reason, Thales suddenly felt a chill running down his spine.
"The Shield of Shadows avoids the royal family's eyes and ears, so we can meet, so..."
In disbelief, Thales put down the dagger and straightened up.
He moved his lips with difficulty:
"The Year of Blood...was he the one who did it?"
"Hyman?"
On the top floor of the Ghost Prince Tower, the narrow room became quiet.
Only the faint noise under the window could be heard.
And the fierce cold wind that is extremely cold at high altitudes.
But the prince only felt that he fell into a deep fog.
And he is getting closer and closer to the truth behind the fog.
In the dungeon, Samir's hateful words came to his mind:
[Is this the ‘beautiful’ Hyman who has a good skin and literary talents, but is narrow-minded and vicious? 】
[Is it the son who kills his father or the brother who kills his brother?]
The fourth prince, Hyman Shining Star?
Cyril did not answer.
But Thales was only in a daze for a few seconds before he immediately shook his head, and countless mysteries rushed in:
"But why... why?"
"If he is the shining star behind the scenes..."
"Then why did Shadow Shield kill him?"
This doesn't make sense.
He stared at Falkenholz, who seemed to be in a trance.
The Duke gently closed his eyes, opened them again, placed his arms on his knees, and leaned forward.
He calmed down his expression, looked sideways at Thales, and let out a faint but scary laugh again:
"I also want to know."
Thales was startled:
"you do not know?"
Cyril chuckled, as if he didn't care:
"No."
"Maybe he is just too stupid and is being taken advantage of."
"Perhaps he was originally a victim and destined to be betrayed."
"Maybe he was just an insider, but he was doomed in the end."
"Maybe he just got involved unintentionally and wanted to turn the tide."
Cyril lowered his head and raised the corners of his lips, not knowing whether it was sarcasm or ridicule:
"But...he doesn't want me to know."
he does not know.
Thales was not satisfied with this answer.
He took a deep breath, walked forward slowly, and sat on the end of the bed again, facing the Duke.
"Really?"
"He asked you to do a favor that kept you from knowing the truth, and you agreed? Without even asking?"
Thales said coldly:
"You are too generous."
Cyril slowly turned his head.
It might be an illusion, but Thales suddenly felt that the ugly and ferocious face of Duke Falkenholz felt much relieved.
"Believe it or not, kid."
Cyril's eyes suddenly became serious, and his sunken lips and teeth opened and closed in the sun:
"Hyman is one of the few friends I have - at least, compared to his brothers who only think about conspiracy, killing, money and women."
"He asked, so I helped, it was that simple."
Thales frowned deeply.
Brothers who are full of conspiracy, killing, money and women...
Cyril observed Thales's expression, shook his head and chuckled.
But the prince's next words made his expression change.
"Does this have anything to do with Prince Horace?"
Thales stretched his brows, but his eyes became more solemn:
"The reason why Heyman went to find the Shadow Shield, but ended up dying at its hands?"
At that moment, Falkenholz's expression froze.
Horace.
He stared at Thales, still ugly and ferocious, but no longer full of laughter.
"Why do you ask?"
Thales breathed out and answered him with another question:
"And you, why did you tell me this eighteen years later, at the place where Hyman died?"
Cyril looked at Thales for a long, long time.
Finally, the Duke's elbows left his knees and he straightened up in his chair.
Contrary to Thales' expectations, Cyril, who seemed to be serious, did not respond to his question. Instead, he raised the long-handled sword on his knees again and looked up and down.
"Have you ever seen a sword like this, Your Highness?"
Cyril seemed to have come out of the memories of those years, and regained his scary and comfortable smile.
Thales couldn't help but be startled.
Only then did he notice that the Duke's long-handled sword had a unique shape. The bronze guard and hilt were extremely slender. It didn't look like the ideal force-bearing structure, but it was beautiful and neat enough. Both sides of the sword extended out of the sand dunes.
The smooth curvature gives people a sense of aesthetic comfort.
And in the center of the sword grid is a pure black gemstone, of unknown type.
Cyril didn't even raise his head, just admiring this exquisite sword:
"The ancient imperial sword, or the ancient knight's sword - has a special style and curvature, an amazing sense of balance, makes it easier to slash and dance more smoothly and powerfully."
"It requires good raw materials and superb forging skills, and of course a high cost - I guess, this is why they are destined to be unable to be mass-produced, and eventually disappeared on the battlefield, with only a few left enough to become heirlooms.
of treasures.”
Cyril turned the sword upside down so that Thales could see the bottom of the hilt.
It was a strange ancient empire engraved letter that Thales almost didn't recognize:
f.
The carving of this letter looks rough and is not very coordinated with other delicate parts of the sword.
Ancient imperial sword? Ancient knight sword?
etc.
Thales' eyebrows moved.
Such an arc...
It does look a little familiar.
"I have seen one." Ricky's silver-handled long sword with the same graceful arc emerged in Thales' mind - Eternal Truth.
"But what does it have to do with what I'm asking, with Heyman, with Horace?"
Thales asked alertly, while calmly sitting further away, ensuring that his legs touched the ground.
Cyril continued to admire the sword that might be the heirloom of the Falkenholz family, and said with a tut:
"It is said that the first batch of ancient imperial swords were made from materials provided by dwarves and forged by elves. They used the flames of the earth as a furnace to gather the essence of the seven seas, and dedicated them to the first emperor in this world, the 'Great Emperor' Komorra who created a prosperous age without borders for mankind.
·Carother."
Thales' thoughts were slightly stagnant.
Cyril raised his head and sneered:
"That's right, I'm talking about your ancestor, the one whose blood is said to be gleaming with gold."
Thales spoke subconsciously:
"but you--"
But Cyril seemed determined not to let him interrupt him, and returned to the long-handled sword in his hand:
"The name of this sword is 'The Warning'. It participated in the Battle of the End with Tiberium Falkenholtz six hundred years ago. He was the swordsmanship teacher of Tormund I when he was young and the most senior person under the Revival King.
The old follower until he was granted the title of Desert Ruins and became the first guardian Duke of the Western Wilderness and my ancestor."
Warner.
Tormund I.
The final battle.
Thales was a little impatient:
"I'll have time to hear your family history, but for now let's—"
The Duke of Xihuang narrowed his eyes slightly and looked sideways at Thales, who was frowning:
"In the hands of another Cyril Falkenhauser."
"He is my great-uncle, serving in the royal guard of the 'Silent One' Sumer IV. In the crisis of the king's sudden death, he held this sword and led the guard to fight through the blood, thereby protecting the young
Eddie II successfully ascended the throne and reigned among the stars."
Cyril said, and a sword flower flashed out from the long-handled sword in his hand. His proficiency and smoothness in holding the sword impressed Thales, who had always thought that Duke Falkenhauser had difficulty in moving.
etc.
Thales' expression changed!
From what he just said, he caught something.
Another Cyril Falkenhauser.
Royal Guard?
"The Silent One" Su Mei IV.
The king suddenly died.
And...Eddie II?
Thales stared at the "warning hand".
Before he could figure it out, Cyril sighed:
"Falkenholz, this surname is as old as Arlend. It has been passed down since the empire era, and it has followed the Bright Star family and continues to this day."
The Duke stared at his ancient imperial sword:
"From the end of the war to the bloody year, just like this warning - we have witnessed too much and understand too much."
Duke Xihuang's eyes showed a strange light:
"Whether it's the ups and downs of the Star Kingdom..."
"Or maybe it's from the Bright Star Royal Family..."
Falkenholz took off the scabbard of his cane and glanced sideways at Thales, seemingly with deep meaning:
"The bloody storm."
Cyril exhaled slowly and put the "Warning" back into its scabbard.
"In comparison, is the answer you want important?"
Thales raised his eyebrows.
Thinking of what he had seen and heard in the past few days, the prince suddenly had a suspicion.
"Eddie II, my grandfather."
"I heard that he is the oldest surviving child of Sumei IV, and he is also a male."
Thales spoke slowly:
"I think his succession to the throne and coronation should be smooth and smooth?"
He narrowed his eyes:
"Where does the 'bloody storm' you call come from?"
The Duke of Xihuang put away his nostalgic expression and smiled slowly.
He turned his head and stared at Thales intently:
"Maybe your history teacher didn't mention your grandfather's stepmother, the 'Witch Queen' Bella who was born in the Iris family, and her sister-in-law who was the Duchess of Blades, your grandfather's aunt, the former Princess Helena
."
Iris family, "Witch Queen" Bella.
Duchess of Blades, Princess Helena.
Listening to these unfamiliar names, Thales's mind started spinning.
"Not to mention how they conspired to correct the imperial edict after the death of Sumer IV. They wanted to send your underage grandfather to the Sunset Temple for lifelong sacrifice, so that Queen Bella's biological son, the infant John Canxing
The young take the place of elders and usurp the throne as king."
Thales' eyes suddenly widened!
John Shining Star.
Conspiracy and false edict.
Thales couldn't help but tighten his grip on the dagger.
Queen Bella's biological son.
Replace the young with the old.
Cyril put down his sword and sighed:
"Of course, if Queen Bella had succeeded more than sixty years ago, you and I wouldn't have to worry here."
If Queen Bella succeeds...
No need to worry here...
Damn old guy.
Thales took a deep breath to calm down the surprise in his heart.
"That's enough, Duke Falkenhaus."
"From just now until now..."
Thales's face darkened.
"What exactly are you implying?"
This time, the second prince stared closely at Duke Xihuang with a bad attitude:
"Is it the late king's youngest brother, Duke John of Star Lake, who has the opportunity to surpass my grandfather and ascend to the supreme throne of the stars?"
Falkenholz raised the corners of his mouth.
"Or is it the Kevin Deere family of Iris that once tried to interfere in the succession of the throne?"
Cyril's smile remained undiminished.
"And Princess Helena's husband's family, the Duke of Blades, whose entire family died eighteen years ago, is also involved?"
Seeing Cyril's unhurried and relaxed expression, Thales gritted his teeth:
"Or it may be a hint that during the Year of Blood, a certain prince who was indeed my grandfather also wanted to replace his elders with his young..."