Chapter 8 murderous maniac

Mindis Hall.

On the training ground where there was light snow, a small figure held on to the heavy thick wooden sword and shield, and knocked away the wooden sword of a guard in front of him between the staggered footsteps and the blocking of the sword and shield.

Thales held the wooden sword out of breath, straightened up again, and shouted: "Come again!"

His training object, the leader of Canxing's private soldiers in Mindis Hall, Jorah was looking at Thales in embarrassment.

"How long has he been like this, Your Highness?"

On one side of the training ground, Earl Gilbert Castle asked a Canxing private soldier beside him with a worried face.

"The training has been going on for three hours from morning to now, my lord." The guard also said worriedly: "And last night, the lights in His Highness's study were lit all night... Lord Jorah even asked us to guard the door all night. No matter what happens, you must rush in immediately."

Gilbert sighed.

After the unusual meeting with the envoys yesterday, the second prince returned to the Mindis Hall.

Gilbert received the most urgent order from His Majesty: to make the most comprehensive preparations for His Royal Highness's mission to the north.

After all, it will only take a few days for the robust letter crows to go back and forth between Eternal Star City and Dragon Clouds City... They may leave at any time.

All day yesterday, he and a group of officials and lords and nobles, big and small, were discussing various matters - from His Royal Highness's attendants, travel schedules, wording of credentials, and even the aftermath of the North after the Duke of the North was imprisoned. Matters and so on - busy here, until now I have time to come to Mindis Hall to take a look.

But what really worried Gilbert was Thales' mental state—after all, not every child could face it calmly when his father used it as a bargaining chip to quell the war.

For example, now, Your Highness is probably fighting for His Majesty's seemingly ruthless decision...

Gilbert raised his head and was surprised to see Thales panting heavily, waved his hand, and dropped the sword in his hand.

"Take a break and go to lunch—I've been practicing for so long, why didn't you remind me." Thales waved his hand and said wearily.

Relieved, Jorah quickly nodded in agreement, while Thales began to untie the shield in his hand.

Gilbert walked forward quickly.

"Your Highness," the former Foreign Minister said cautiously, "With all due respect, your old wounds are still unhealed, so you really shouldn't be...wasting your body like this."

"Don't worry, Gilbert...Look, my injuries are almost healed," Thales skillfully and quickly took off the left shield, moved his left arm, and bared his teeth: "Short Three days... Maybe I really am some kind of monster."

Gilbert was at a loss for words immediately, and he said with a sullen face: "Your Highness, please don't be so nonsense..."

"Okay, okay—it's my own body after all, and I've lived in this world for several years..." Thales interrupted him, sneered: "Don't I know?"

"This strange physique is probably due to my mother who is even more mysterious than a magician?"

Thales smiled and observed Gilbert's expression carefully.

He was looking forward to seeing something from the other party's reaction.

Gilbert frowned deeply.

Sure enough.

Your Highness, he has long been suspicious.

"Your Highness," Gilbert let out a breath, shaking his head and said, "I'm not in a position to comment on your origin, but you must know that the star bloodline you inherited from His Majesty also originated from the ancient empire and stretched to the final empire. It is the most noble bloodline in the history of mankind—the imperial bloodline, the Carolers family... Maybe there are some unknown secrets hidden in this ancient and great bloodline..."

Thales sighed inwardly: He really is a diplomat, from his expression to his wording - he is impeccable.

I had to find another way to go to "little tadpole looking for mother".

"Okay, don't worry about me thinking too much," Thales sat down sweating and panting,

Shaking his boots, he poured out the sand inside: "Anyway, it's not a bad thing for the time being."

Moreover, bloodline, race, how could there be a difference between superior and inferior.

So the traveler happily said: "As for my mother—I will know one day anyway, and my top priority is the country with the dragon flag flying in the north."

Gilbert was taken aback, he glanced at Jorah who was packing up the training equipment in the distance, and then looked at Thales in embarrassment: "Your Highness, I think what His Majesty said when he sent you on a mission yesterday was by no means literal. The above means..."

"I know, the king has his own considerations." Thales shook off the last boots of sand and got up from the ground.

Gilbert looked at him worriedly: "That's exactly...so, you don't have to be so...er...depressed..."

"What?"

Thales frowned.

But he immediately understood something.

"how?"

The traverser turned his head, laughed involuntarily and said, "Do you think my swordsmanship practice just now...was giving up on myself or venting my anger?"

Gilbert raised his eyebrows.

"Oh My God..."

Thales slapped his head, smiled wryly and said:

"Hey, since I'm going to that strange country... I have to prepare myself no matter what. Although my seven-year-old body can't do much, at least I have to practice the swordsmanship used by the Northern Army and learn how to ride a horse. When in danger, at least you know how to save your life, don't you?"

"If you're lucky, you can develop the power of finishing..."

Gilbert couldn't help interrupting him: "Your Highness, even in the Tower of Termination with special training traditions, the youngest record for those who have a special encounter and awaken the power of termination early is twelve years old— —Generally speaking, the awakening time is sixteen years old...and seven years old...uh..."

Thales laughed awkwardly when he heard this.

He scratched his head, and said in a low voice, "Really, I thought it was the same as brushing proficiency."

"However," Ke Gilbert still looked at him suspiciously: "You really...know and without any suspicion...understand His Majesty's intentions?"

"Are you kidding, anyway, I'm also a graduate student with MAX stress resistance—ahem—the second prince with excellent psychological quality..." Thales patted the dust on his body nonchalantly, and walked to the study, ready to start Lunch and writing homework:

"Well, actually, when I heard that he said that he would kill me to make up for Exeter, I was really taken aback."

"However, I spent one night looking through the documents - there are too few materials in the Mindis Hall, and the arrangement is not scientific - at least I understand some of His Majesty's plans."

Gilbert noticed that Thales used either "King" or "Your Majesty" when addressing King Kessel V. He sighed silently in his heart: Sure enough, His Highness still has a grudge against His Majesty's approval... ?

"Want to hear my opinion—about my going to Exeter?" Thales pinched his sore neck and grinned.

Gilbert bowed slightly respectfully: "I am all ears."

————————————

in the dark.

Morat's unique, hoarse and old voice came in a deep voice: "This made him run away?"

It was Raphael with a light and bright voice who answered him: "Our people also find it very strange-it seems that the strange doctor has seen through the trap and returned without hesitation, and the assassination team is empty. I have been wandering around the eastern border of Exeter and the stars, that is, between the lonely old tower of the Forres family and the reconstruction tower of the Trudida family, but there is no trace of Ramon anymore."

Morat rested his chin on his hands, and murmured carefully: "Even though the inheritance has been extinct for more than six hundred years, a mage is a mage—it can't be overestimated, but he obviously came prepared. ..."

The Black Prophet raised his head slightly: "It is impossible for our snare to be empty, he must have a helper... Leaving aside the Black Sword, what about the other two killers of the Brotherhood? The Scimitar and the Prison Scythe? Rhoda?"

Raphael shook his head helplessly: "From the beginning to the end, we didn't find any news of the Scimitar and Prison Scythe appearing nearby, and we didn't see any help from other fraternity leaders, but..."

Raphael frowned slightly.

Morat's eyes froze.

Raphael continued: "In the past week, Anton and Rhoda of the six giants have all returned to Eternal Star City-except for 'Iron Skin' Locke who is still in the south, Qincha, Rhoda, Lancer, Anton With Morris, five of the Big Six gathered in the capital..."

Morat raised his hand abruptly, stopping Raphael's report.

His expression kept changing. After a pause for a few seconds, the Black Prophet let out a deep breath.

"Five people gathered?"

"snort."

Morat closed his eyes and shook his head: "I know who Ramon's assistant is now, not from the fraternity."

Raphael looked puzzled.

Mourat opened his eyes lightly, his eyes were sharp: "It was the 'dark room' who first revealed the news to us, but the elite assassination team of the secret department was evacuated at the border between the two countries—isn't that obvious?"

Raphael raised his head suddenly.

Morat was silent for a long time.

"Hehe," the Black Prophet chuckled and said, "It seems that Ramon is not a mage at all. We have been swayed by that old woman in the north again."

"But it's not without reason that she used fake news to attract our attention... She's helping the Brotherhood, so what is the latter... trying to cover up?"

"Withdraw half of the manpower from the north, and focus on investigating the movements of the brotherhood in the past few days... There is no reason for the five people to gather together..." Morat laughed dumbly: "How dare you talk to Exeter's 'dark room' Make a deal, Lancer is indeed my best disciple outside of Norfolk..."

At this moment, a violent sound suddenly came from a black cloth-covered cage next to Raphael.

Raphael opened the cage expressionlessly.

A fist-sized head that looked like a bird and a mouse protruded from it. It was covered in bright red mucus. It opened its mouth with fangs, handed out a piece of paper, and quickly retracted it.

Morat didn't even look at the hideous, strange and weird creature, but just stared at Raphael.

The latter looked at the small piece of paper, his face getting worse and worse.

Raphael put down the piece of paper, his face more solemn than ever.

"We have received a report that two of the eight supernatural fighters of the Blood Bottle Gang, Catherine the Phantom Blade and Nekla the Red Viper, appeared one after the other in Levor City."

"And two days ago, our eyeliner in the neighboring city of Steel..."

He said solemnly: "I found the trace of the blood magician."

Molat's pupils suddenly shrank!

"It seems that a big fish has been caught..." Molat smiled.

Raphael pondered, and said to himself: "But...you actually hid in the City of Steel...for so many years...could it be that the dwarves in the Hall of Kings didn't notice anything?"

Morat closed his eyes and shook his head: "Because of the Goddess of the Sunset, the relationship between the Hall of Kings and Queen Helan has become worse and worse for three hundred years, and the Burning Wind Cannon has even fallen into a cooling state strangely—their hands There is not even a usable legendary anti-magic weapon in the world, even if you know it, you can only pretend to be deaf and dumb."

Raphael frowned and snorted lightly.

"Are you sure it's the blood magician? What's the specific reward?" Black Prophet squeezed the crutch in his hand, solemnly.

But he immediately noticed that Raphael just sighed with sadness on his face.

The young man in white lowered his eyes and spread out the piece of paper.

"No return."

He said solemnly.

Morat raised his head abruptly, and his sharp and unstoppable eyes stabbed straight at Raphael.

Waiting for his explanation.

The young man in white let out a breath, and said quietly:

"The reason why we discovered the blood magician..."

"Because of..."

"From the City of Steel to the City of Levor, we have eyeliners all the way... thirty-four people..."

"All were killed."

Raphael said silently.

"and..."

"Flesh and blood are scattered everywhere, and there is no whole body."

"In line with our records... the style of the blood magician..."

He didn't say any more.

half an hour.

Morat sighed deeply.

"It's demonstrating to the secret department: outside the capital, it can find each of us at any time."

"Sure enough, it's that damn..."

He said hoarsely:

"Murderer."