Kingdom’s Bloodline
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Chapter 600: The Greatest Knight (Two)
ARC: Curse of the Royal Tribulation
Chapter 100:The Greatest Knight (Two)
Glover muttered in frustration, “Look, at least you can stop others from killing, can’t you?” Zombie stared straight ahead.
“That’s helping to save lives.”
Kohen managed a pained smile but didn’t say anything in return.
“No,” Thales spoke up; his words took some wind out of Glover’s desire to argue, “No, Zombie.” “It’s not the same.”
Thales shook his head.
“Stopping killing and saving lives might seem similar.” Thales said in a subdued manner,
“Some people even argue that if you kill a murderer before they kill again, it’s like saving the person they would’ve killed, which could solve the problem.”
“But trust me, Caleb.”
“That’s a whole different matter.”
“Those two ideas are still very far apart.”
Glover didn’t respond, lost in a world of his own.
Right then, Layork’s cynical laugh echoed.
“Don’t go putting in all that effort, gents,” he sneered,
“Ain’t nobody in this world worth or expects your saving.”
The Brotherhood’s assassin raised his hand, motioning towards the rundown buildings around, “See for yourselves: life’s been this way, and it never need a fixing—let alone someone riding in to save the day.”
“Haughty rich types like you? You ain’t gonna save anybody, anyhow.”
Kohen’s forehead creased even more.
“You know, I’ve got this friend, a real close one, who grew up in pretty much the same kind of place. When I asked her about it, she just laughed and said, ‘Forget it’,” Kohen told Layork with a heavy tone,
“This world, it is what it is, self-contained, comes with its own set of rules. If I can just watch out for myself, that’s a win.”
“Embrace the rules, adapt to ‘em, work ‘em to your advantage, master ‘em—only then can you start shaping the rules for the future.”
Thales clenched his fist. At that very moment, he was reminded of two completely different people yet speaking off uncannily similar thoughts,1 “Hold your sword tightly. Do not lose it. ”
“Instead of trying to make up for it, what you need to do is take charge. Not to whine while perched atop this tall wall, but ride the wave and break through. ”
Kohen drew in,
“She always goes on like that, and then she’d pick up a dagger, dealing with those scums I’d catch and then set free...”
Kohen came to his senses. He knew that he had made a slip of the tongue and shook his head, “My bad.”
“Your friend,” Layork jumped in, unbothered, like it was his own rule of thumb, “She’s got a point.”
“At least,” the assassin glanced at the police officer and added, “Way more effective than your motherly speeches.” But Kohen shook his head.
“But still,” he said, with a hint of bitterness, “she can kill them.”
“But she can’t save anyone either.”
“Me and her, we go at it over this all the time.”
Thales chuckled softly.
“Believe me, Kohen, that quarrel of yours isn’t on you,” the young man whispered as he looked
up.
“Even if it’s a couple thousand years down the line, people will still be having these same arguments.”
Kohen shrugged.
“Maybe.”
He gave a wry laugh, somewhat self-deprecating,
“So, honestly, I don’t know... I don’t know what to do.”
“I used to share these worries with my co-workers, bosses, and even the bosses above them.” "But every single time, all they did was give me a sympathetic pat on the back, saying they understand because they’ve been where I am—youthful like me, fired up like me, working just as hard as me, and just like me... confused.” Kohen’s voice grew heavy,
“And then, after a long time, when one day they look back and notice that they had just, they...”3
“Give up,” Glover rasped, “they gave up.”
Kohen unconsciously nodded.
“Either they get used to it and stop caring, or they compromise for personal gain, or they distance themselves because it’s not their problem, or they pride themselves on being morally righteous... Even the occasional rookies slowly blend in with the routine, worn down by daily rules, hard work amounting to nothing, and the struggle that brings no reward, losing their original selves...”4 Layork snorted coldly.
“No way, these words are actually coming from some posh guy who’s never had to worry about a thing...”
He gave Kohen a sidelong glance.
“I’ll tell you what, cop,” the Silent Assassin said with nonchalance,
“If I ever gotta kill you, I’ll make it quick.”
Kohen gave a casual scoff.
“If I ever gotta off you, I’ll make sure to keep your body in one piece,” Glover retorted sharply, his voice cold as he spoke on behalf of the police officer,
“As a thank-you gift for your little tour.”
Layork met the icy gaze with equal intensity.
“I guess nothing really holds weight anymore...” Kohen let out a heavy sigh,
“Western District, Lower City, Western City Gate—those were supposed to be my areas to look after, my duty.”
He looked up, weary, his eyes locked on the grimy road in front of him,
“But the reality is, they’ve turned into my opponents.”
“Wiping out all my hopes.”
Glover stayed silent, his lips pressed into a tight line, while Layork appeared rather smug.
Thales observed Kohen with a flicker of sorrow in his eyes.
“I wanted to bring about some change,” Kohen’s voice grew tense as he spoke, clenching his teeth, his fist balling up,
“But... “
His fist suddenly relaxed, and he seemed utterly disheartened.
“That guy. Fatty Morris, and even you, Your Highness, have made me realise it’s not just crime I’m up against.”
Kohen mumbled, with a distant gaze,
“I don’t know, I don’t know if the things I’ve done amount to anything... Sometimes, 1 even doubt if I’m just as foolish as they say, just a gullible idiot wasting his time, a... a dumbass officer.” Thales looked at him with empathy but struggled to find words of comfort.
“Even something as simple as taking a flowerpot from one place to another in the station,” Kohen chuckled, his smile tinged with sadness,
“I can’t even do that.”
Glover couldn’t help but speak up,
“You’re the oldest son of the Karabeyan Family, and if you can’t do it...”
“You’re right,” Kohen looked at him, forcing a bitter smile and shaking his head,
“It’s exactly because I’m the one who’s supposed to continue the Karabeyan Family legacy.” “But... “
Kohen slowly dropped his head.
“I’ve only got one sword, and I’m on my own.”
The police officer stared at his family heirloom sword and muttered,5 “But I have to face the scars it carved.”
“It’s just way too heavy, way too tough.”
Thales heaved a sigh, mirroring the sentiment.
“Do you remember that girl from the pharmacy,” the Prince said in a hushed tone. “Yanni?” The three of them turned their heads towards him.
“She’s got just a pair of hands,” Thales lowered his head, looking at the increasingly uneven road underfoot, meticulously counting the potholes,
“Just like how you have that one sword.”
“Who do you think has it tougher?”
Kohen stood frozen, stunned.
But Thales didn’t speak any further; he simply continued to fix his gaze on the path beneath his feet.
‘This ground, the way it feels when I step in, the way we’re going...
Step closer, a step even closer. ’
A sense of familiarity and panic surged at once, making him unwilling to raise his head.
Yet every journey has its end.
“We’re here.”
As if only a second had elapsed, Layork’s chilling and solitary voice echoed in his ear, “These are the Abandoned Houses.”
“Where beggars usually.
Abandoned Houses
Thales gritted his teeth to stop his trembling, and he lifted his gaze.
‘The known fronts, the known ditches, even those rows of beaten-up houses... Huh?’ Right around the same time, Kohen and Layork both had a change in their expressions. “Well, this is odd.”
Kohen sized up the rusty iron door of an abandoned house.
“What?” Glover asked, looking genuinely puzzled.
Without hesitation, Kohen stepped inside through the iron door, his eyes fixed ahead: rows upon rows of worn-out, crumbling houses, inside and out, with quite a few people in dirty, ragged clothes looking up at them with a blank expression.
The police officer frowned and said,
“There... there are people inside.”
Glover scoffed in response,
“You don’t say.”
Kohen explained, “No, no, no. You’re not getting it. In the past few years, I’ve been part of the police station’s teams on raids. Every time we went through these abandoned houses, they were always empty. Those scumbags always managed to clear everything out beforehand, even the countless street kids they had under their control. We couldn’t catch a single thing.”
Kohen walked forward, puzzled,
“I mean, I’ve just never seen it with people actually living here.”
Thales caught up with him, his forehead creased in a frown.
They walked along the wretched, muddy path, passing rows of aged, long-neglected stone houses. “All of them are old, weak, sick, or disabled,” Glover noted.
He walked past one of the houses and peered inside, saying,
“There are also homeless people—beggars too.”
However, Thales still had a worried look on his face.
They turned a corner and took a route that was as familiar as daylight: the Eighth House, the Fourteenth House, the Second House...
Thales struggled to steady his breath.
On the road, by the doors, under the eaves—everywhere there were poverty-stricken souls, their bodies nothing but skin and bones, some sitting, some lying down. There were even those with hoarse voices reaching out with begging hands.
“Nope, something’s off.” Layork gave a kick to a vagabond trying to touch his boot, finally losing his patience.
“The Abandoned Houses aren’t like this.”
Glover turned his head, not impressed,
“What, now it’s you?”
Layork shook his head,
“I haven’t been around much these past few years, but...”
He looked around warily,
“The management of this place isn’t usually this slack, and also...”
“Going by the usual deal, you’d only find beggars and thugs here.”
“And sure as hell, there shouldn’t be this many tramps—some of them don’t even look like they belong to the Brotherhood.”
Glover still couldn’t make sense of it, but Kohen squinted his eyes, suspicious.
Thales, meanwhile, looked at the packed Abandoned Houses without saying a word.
Just then, a drowsy voice came from a rickety lounge chair nearby, “Hey, if you folks are here to rob. you’ve picked the wrong place.” All four turned their heads: a man, just as thin and looking just as pathetic, straightened up from the chair, yawning,6
“These abandoned houses? They’re under the Black Street Brotherhood’s...”
Layork’s eyes sparked recognition, “Morteza?”
When he heard that name, the man with a sickly complexion visibly trembled.
He pushed himself up from the lounge chair, scrutinised the Silent Assassin, and finally blurted out the name in disbelief,
“You’re... Layork?”
“Yes,” Layork snapped out of his surprise,
“What are you doing here?”
The man named Morteza’s face shifted through several shades.
The next moment, he stood up, turned around, and left!
“Hey, wait up!”
Layork dashed after him, leaving Thales and the rest baffled.
“Who’s he?”
“Some guy who joined the Brotherhood the same year as me, under a different boss,” Layork gritted his teeth as he pursued,
“I just haven’t heard from him in ages— Morteza, stop!”
Morteza’s stride was uneven and clumsy.
“Get lost! Stay the hell away from me!” The man snapped, not bothering to turn around.
Layork’s gaze turned icy, and he abruptly quickened his pace, the sound of his steps echoing!
A muted thud followed...
—and Morteza felt his feet stumble, his balance lost as he crashed painfully to the ground.
“You pushed me to this,” Layork’s voice was cold as he approached, taking in Morteza’s dishevelled appearance as he struggled to roll over. “Now, tell me, how did you end up here—”
Layork’s words stumbled to a halt.
He witnessed Morteza gritting his teeth in effort, using only his left hand to prop himself up.
On the other sleeve of Morteza’s jacket, where his right arm should have been, there was an empty void, a conspicuous absence.
“See that?”
Morteza shifted his body, covering his missing arm, and snapped back with frustration, “Well, of course I’m here; where else could 1 go?!” Thales and the rest rushed to their side.
“What happened?”
Layork glanced at the empty sleeve, then back at Morteza’s ragged appearance, his expression a mix of emotions,
“Your arm?”
“What happened?” Morteza looked like he’d been insulted, without showing any fear of the Silent Assassin, he instead yelled out,
“Are you freakin’ doing this on purpose or what?”
Glover and Kohen looked at each other, with mirrored bewilderment.
“What? What do you mean ‘on purpose’?” Layork asked, clearly confused.
Morteza’s breathing quickened, his eyes were bloodshot, and he was glaring daggers at Layork.
“Six years ago!”
The man with the severed arm sat on the ground, his voice heavy with pain,
“Red Street Market, One Night War, ring a bell?”
The familiar words triggered memories in both Thales and Kohen.
Layork took a moment to think,
“Of course, we won.”
“Yeah, the Brotherhood definitely came out on top.” Morteza shivered as he grabbed at his empty sleeve,
“But I ended up on the losing side.”
Cursing words rolled off the man’s tongue, thick with bitterness, then he took a deep breath and turned his head away, avoiding their gaze.
Layork fell silent.
“They said you went missing.”
Morteza scoffed,
“Yeah, I sure did.”
“Damn Red Bandanas, and damn that blasted huge explosion of theirs—buried under the rubble for a full three days. Only got dug out by those steel-skinned patrols. Woke up in a prison. So yeah, I did go missing all right.”7 huge explosion
Thales glanced at Morteza’s shoulder-length missing arm; his emotions tangled.
“They kept saying I’m a damn miracle for making it out alive, but look at this...”
Morteza scoffed and gave his empty sleeve a little shake,
“A gangster turned into this mess. Ain’t much difference from being dead, is there?”
Layork looked up and let out a heavy breath through his nose, brooding.
Morteza huffed in frustration, and the others stayed quiet for a while.
“Morteza, what’s happening here?” Layork asked again.
His tone had softened noticeably.
“What do you mean, ‘what’s happening’?” Morteza’s response was far from friendly.
Layork looked around, seeing people huddled against walls or peeking from doorways, all nervously eyeing them,
“The Abandoned Houses. Why are there suddenly so many tramps here? Are they from the Brotherhood? And the beggars—”
Morteza impatiently cut him off,
“Don’t you know? Ain’t you one of Morris’ guys? How the hell wouldn’t you know?”
“I only handle the killing,” Layork said, lowering his head.
“Not the beggars.”
Morteza sneered, his words laden with sarcasm,
“Well, of course, you’re Morris’s favourite, ain’t ya, with that cute little round ass of yours...” Layork huffed.
In the blink of an eye, the Silent Assassin’s expression turned cold, and his arm moved!
7 'steel-skinned'; as blue-skinned or cop is slang for the Constellation's police force, these can be the city defence team or the Royal Guards. There's a lot of steel when describing the Royal Guards. I couldn't find any Morteza in the novel, but if you can find these events, please warn me.
With a solid thud, Morteza’s pained scream echoed as Layork forcefully twisted his left arm, pressing the man’s face into the ground.
“Listen up. Morteza, I might be nice to you, but it sure as hell ain’t because of your round butt.” The Silent Assassin’s other hand pulled a blade from his waist; his voice frigid, “I couldn’t care less about your lost arm or your bullshit.”
“Now, answer my question, or I’ll make things symmetrical for you.”
Kohen wrinkled his forehead, but Glover held him back firmly and shook his head.
“Hahaha,” Morteza stood his ground, even though he was clearly in agony. He shot Layork a venomous look and muttered two words through his teeth, “Fuck you!”
Layork’s face turned icy as he shoved Morteza’s face into the dirt.
Right then...
“Morty?”
An old and gentle lady’s voice came from the broken-down house next to them.
Morteza’s body shook all over.
“Morty? Where are you?”
Everyone saw the bent figure of an old lady leaning on a tree branch, wobbling her way out of the door.
She stretched her hand out into thin air, her gaze distant, both eyes an unnatural pale colour.
“Morty, I can’t find our big pot, you know, the one with less rust and just two dents... I reckon the folks from the Sixth House took it again...”
Sixth House
Thales fell into a momentary daze.
It was only when the old woman’s branch tapped the ground that he was jolted back to reality.
“Mom, go back!”
Morteza struggled, pulling his mouth out of the mud, and urgently cried out,
“Now!”
Layork stared blankly at Morteza beneath him, then lifted his gaze to the old woman.
Thales caught sight of her weathered face, and his own expression changed as well.
“But we still need to fetch water for cooking, and we don’t have any bowls...” The old woman, her eyes veiled in a milky white, puzzledly reached out. turned her head their way, and listened carefully.
“Morty? What are you up to? Who’s with you—”
The old woman’s words stuttered.
“Ah, dam it.”
She turned her pale eyes towards Layork, her expression growing colder.
“Whoever you guys are,” at that moment, the old woman seemed surprisingly calm and composed, “We don’t have any money.”
Morteza fought even harder, but with one arm missing, he couldn’t stand a chance against Layork. “Take a look at Morty. He’s not just lost his right hand, but his right side is also weak,” the old woman sighed,
Layork, on the other hand, just stared at the old woman in front of him, his expression tinged with confusion.
“How else do you expect us to earn a living?”
“You won’t get your hands on anything by robbing us.”
Layork kept his silence.
However, the old woman’s words appeared to anger her son.
“Dammit, Mother!”
Morteza’s face was flushed with humiliation,
‘‘Shut it and get back inside!” he snapped.
But the old woman seemed unfazed by Morteza’s outburst. Instead, she casually turned towards Layork and said,
“If this doesn’t make you guys knock it off,”
“You should know that this old lady knows some folks from the Brotherhood, and Morty’s in that gang too. If things get messy and bloody, it ain’t gonna be a pretty sight.”
A few seconds later, Layork quietly put away his weapon and let go of Morteza.
He turned towards the old woman, his tone softening noticeably,
“Ma Behrs, your... your eyes, are they blind?”8
“Blind? Hah!” The old woman’s cloudy eyes’ widened, as if she had heard the funniest joke,
“My ears still work, ya know? I could tell there were four of you—three of ’em armed.” The old woman’s words came to a halt.
“Hold on a moment. You know my name... does that mean you’re one of those Brotherhood brats?” Layork let out a sigh.
“No worries, I’m just passing through,” Layork looked at the blind old woman. Behrs, his gaze downcast with a sense of loss,
“Just thought I’d swing by to see an old friend.”
But the old woman, named Behrs, didn’t pay him any attention and turned to her son, asking, “Morty?”
“I’m good, Mom!” Morteza, who had managed to get himself out, plopped down on the ground, breathing heavily in frustration,
“I told you, just get the heck out of here!”
The old woman emitted a sarcastic laugh.
“Maybe I ain’t your real mother. Morty. Maybe I still need you to remind me not to trip over the dam steps.”
In the next second, Behrs’ stick thudded hard against the ground, and her voice suddenly grew louder,
“But at the very least, back when you were just a bawlin’ little tot, I didn’t let you freeze on the dang street or suffocate in some drain. So you, you damn brat, show me some fucking respect!” The old woman’s fierce shout sent a shiver down one’s spine.
Mertessa rubbed his forehead with a grimace, both frustrated and uneasy.
“Ugh...”
Realising arguing with his mother was futile, Morteza let out a defeated sigh,
“Okay, fine, I'll go talk to Sixth House about that stupid pot! Now, please, just go back inside!” Thales and the others exchanged glances, clearly puzzled by the situation.
“Fine, fine,” Behrs responded in that uniquely feeble manner of hers. She straightened her bent back and mumbled as she turned away, “Brotherhood. Brotherhood, ha.”
“How much more do we owe them? That damn cursed Black Sword...”
“Mother!” Morteza’s frustration flared up once again.
Behrs exhaled a little snort and extended her stick to feel her way,
“Well, then, go ahead and catch up. ‘Cause you know, this might be the last time.”
“The last time? What do you mean?”
Layork gave a quick glance at Morteza’s injured body,
“Is he seriously ill?”
Behrs’ hand shook slightly as she explored the earthen wall, “Nah, I mean you guys.”
“Once you’re part of the Brotherhood, you ain’t got long to live.”
Layork stared at Behrs steadily.
“Mother!” Morteza angrily shouted, not knowing how many times he had done so.
But at the same time, another voice chimed in.
“Ma!”
Behrs’ form froze.
The old lady turned slowly, a playful expression on her face, “Ah, a young voice, clear and strong, still cracking here and there.” “Maybe fifteen at most.”
Thales stepped forward, his gaze fixed on the old woman,
“You said your name is Behrs?”
The blind old woman turned her head and took a few sniffs in Thales’ direction,
“A posh scent, kinda familiar, and a whiff of perfume. Lemme guess, just got back from Red Street Market?”
But Thales paid no heed to her words.
“You claim to be from the Brotherhood,” Thales stared fixedly at Behrs' face,
“Why have 1 never heard of you?”
Behrs opened her mouth and let out a muted laugh.
“Maybe ‘cause you still haven’t grown your man fuzz down there?”
Glover and Kohen had strange looks on their faces.
The old woman’s expression turned stern, and she raised her voice towards Thales, “And your little pecker is still as limp as a wet noodle and can’t get it up on its own?” “You cheeky little rascal?”
Morteza groaned,
“Mom! Enough!”
Behrs let out a cold snort, her cloudy eyes empty yet still sending shivers down one’s spine.
“You little pup, go find Morris from this block and ask him if he’s heard of the ‘Black-Hearted Widow’ Behrs!”
“Then ask those ungrateful punks in the Brotherhood how many of‘em I ain’t spanked!” Thales went quiet.
“I see.”
He just looked at Behrs’ face, as if searching for a distant memory from his childhood, then grinned, “Thank you; I’ll keep that in mind.” “Ma Behrs,”
Thales repeated what Layork had called her.
“You’d better not,” the old woman didn’t seem to care, her voice cold,
“I’d rather have some peace and quiet, being an old lady and all.”
She moved slowly but skillfully over the pit in the ground, disappearing behind the wall, leaving her tough voice behind, “Morty, don’t forget about that pot!”
Thales silently watched the old woman walk away, as if he had travelled back in time.
He felt as though he had returned to that very moment—the very first memories he ever created of anything in this world,
"Look at you, you little brat. Why ain 'tyou shedding a tear, huh? Darn it. You too dumb to cry?
Nah, better if you are. That way, 1 can have a bit ofpeace. "
Back then, the voice on the other end didn’t carry the weight of age. but it sure was as rough and
grating.
“You better call me Ma Behrs, kid. Ma, got it? Even if you strike it big down the road, I’m the one who brought you up! Cursed little devil, may the Underworld God come for you soon, so you ain ’t causing too much trouble. ”9
Back then, Behrs’ face was a grimace of disgust, yet tinged with a touch of awe.
“Alright, then. Thales, that’s what you ’re called. No need to hate on it. I know it ain ’t the prettiest, but I ain 't the one who chose it. Don’t fret; once I’ve seen you through enough years, I can be at ease. Don’t have to deal with nightmares day in, day out. ’’
Back then, the Brotherhood’s nurturing nest was dark, narrow, damp, and simple.
“Enough, enough; you all hurry up and take him away. I don’t ever wanna set eyes on him again in this lifetime... Why? Haha, I could spill the beans, but you wouldn ’t believe me. But mark my words, he’s bound to stir up a real mess... ”
“A monster sired a monster calf... ”
Right then, Thales opened his eyes and kept all the bits and pieces, whether clear or fuzzy, locked away in his heart.
