Chapter 544: Watchmen’s Code

Translator: EndlessFantasy Translation  Editor: EndlessFantasy Translation

Romantic candlelight was accompanied by melodious music.

The banquet progressed to the next stage. On the dance floor in the middle of the hall, men and women partnered up and danced passionately.

Except for Thales.

“No, ma’am. Your boldness has amazed me, and has enlivened the banquet,”

In his seat, in the face of a youthful, lively and adorable noble young lady, Thales dryly gave a conventional response (that could probably only fool Aida), “It’s just that I have a sensitive status, it’s a serious matter and shouldn’t be taken lightly,”

“Especially the first dance since my return. Regardless of who I dance with, it won’t be fair, and others will feel offended,”

Thales noticed through the corner of his eyes that Mallos had ended his communication with several subordinates and was walking towards him.

There was both urgency and vigilance in the watchman’s eyes; Thales understood what it meant: Hurry up.

“So, for the stability and balance of the kingdom, for the prosperity and peace of Constellation…”

Thales perked up, warmly stared into the young lady’s sparkling eyes and held her hand gently while he held back his self-contempt.

“I can only endure great sorrow as I abandon the courtesy of sharing a dance with you.

“It breaks my heart.”

The young lady before him bit her lower lip. Her gaze was downcast and she looked hurt.

But she curtsied with slight displeasure, gave Thales another dejected glance then turned and left.

She did not drag her feet, but was instead graceful and lithe.

One could not help but cast a sidelong glance.

Thales breathed a sigh of relief. He felt drained.

This was the ninth lady who had invited him to dance tonight and the 44th (or 54th? Can’t remember) guest who approached him.

“So you just got rid of Miss Enossa,” Mallos said from behind him, “Well done.”

“So that’s her name? Enossa?” Thales sighed. “Her expression. I feel guilty.”

Mallos categorically refuted, “You don’t have to be.”

“Miss Enossa is not only bold and straightforward, she also knows how to use her charm to capture her prize. Many talented and handsome young men are willing to go through hell and high water for her,” the watchman sat down at the auxiliary table, and went on calmly, “Trust me. You wouldn’t want to fight someone at the first banquet.”

“Especially when there is an assassin around.”

Thales had a headache.

Oh, right.

According to Mallos, right here right now, there was a damn assassin hiding somewhere in this banquet.

It would probably cause a huge stir.

And the king⁠—his father and countless nobles were all present, eyeing eagerly.

With conventional greetings, the prince sent away the next guest that approached him, then erased his perfect smile, set down his wine glass that had touched his lips countless times, and stretched his back.

“Are you sure? About the assassin?”

“Just because of… a glance?”

Mallos’ voice was still steady, “Better safe than sorry.”

Thales turned around to glance at him before turning back.

“Very well.

“So, someone with a considerably high status, high enough to attend this royal banquet, is disregarding their own life and reputation in order to insanely assassinate me in front of so many people and under such tight security?”

Mallos raised his wine glass unfazed and toasted a friend at the next table from afar. “Or your father.”

“Or my father,” Thales willingly accepted Mallos’ point, but was still glum and dissatisfied.

“But why? I have just returned to Constellation, what do they have against me? Did I take his wife or kill his father?”

Mallos appraised the guests with a vigilant gaze but responded with rare dry humor. “Or both?”

Thales shot him an annoyed look.

“Anyway, don’t relax. We haven’t found him yet,” Mallos said softly, then left to instruct his men further.

Thales exhaled—not far ahead, the tenth young lady approached him with trepidation and bowed.

But as prince, he had to remain calm, endure the attention of countless people, take into account the impact, and maintain his deportment.

He had to keep his spirits up and handle guests that greeted him with all kinds of agenda.

Including the young lady before him who invited him to dance. She was probably 11 or 12. The nervous expression on her face reminded Thales of Little Rascal when she was young.

That’s right, there was still Saroma.

That girl was still caught in the war in the North.

And he was still figuring out how to help her from thousands of miles away at this banquet.

At the thought of the archduchess, Thales felt crestfallen again.

Yet all he could do was…

‘Smile, Thales. On this battlefield, a smile is the best armor.’

“When you’re a little more grown up, pretty little miss, I will surely be charmed by you and dance with you—but now, I have to be responsible towards your father and brothers.”

Thales forced a smile as he bid the tearful and hurt ‘Miss No. 10’ goodbye.

He barely had a few seconds of rest before guest number 56, Levi Trentida of Reformation Tower in the Northland wedged his way forward, his face full of flattery.

“Erm, Polaris?”

“That thing we, we agreed on…our…”

Oh.

Thales covered his eyes and rolled them behind his palm.

How did the saying go again? Speak of the Little Rascal and she doth appear?

“I know, I know,” the prince put his hand down, repressed his fatigue, and put on the ‘armor’ again, “Just help me out, Bowl Cut Junior.”

Bowl Cut Junior?

Levi was slightly taken aback as he subconsciously touched his bowl cut.

“Sit down, and just smile,” Thales said with a headache, “Take whatever you want to eat, including whatever’s on my plate, there’s only a piece left…”

“And stop talking.”

Levi was again stunned. “But we…”

But Thales’ gaze forced his words back into his mouth.

The guest from Reformation Tower understood tacitly. He sat down, and smirked at Thales as he ate, while secretly paying attention to a certain bureaucrat at the banquet below.

The prince smiled gently at him to show that they were friendly.

In the eyes of others, it was like a meeting between close friends who talked about everything with each other.

They quietly sat across from each other for five minutes.

Unfortunately, no assassin appeared.

Fortunately, no one invited him to dance.

“Alright, time’s almost up. They probably think we’re gay by now,” Thales said lethargically.

He ignored Levi’s odd gaze and was done enjoying his precious rest time. “By the way, Levi,”

Levi put down his wine glass and listened humbly.

“Duke Nanchester of Land of Cliffs told me,” Thales shut his eyes and rubbed his forehead vigorously, “that he found out that you bought grain from Constellation and smuggled it through his territory,”

Levi’s expression changed dramatically.

Thales said interestedly, “It seems like ‘One-Eyed Dragon’ Koshder isn’t too happy.”

“Smuggling, you say?”

Unexpectedly, Bowl Cut Junior’s expression changed again almost instantly as he said solemnly, “What? There are such criminals in our territory? Rest assured, Your Grace, I’ll punish them strictly when I…”

“Take it easy,” Thales waved a hand, unconcerned. He looked fed up as he lied unencumbered, “I persuaded him. One-Eyed Dragon will turn a blind eye to what you’re doing, to prevent Lampard from expanding his influence.

“You can continue to transport supplies.”

Levi stared with his eyes open wide.

He tried to force a smile and struggled to find the proper words, “Ah, Polaris, you really are, really are…”

A lifesaver? Thales found the words for him.

“You need to think twice about it though…” Thales just wanted to end the conversation quickly, so interrupted him with a wave. “If this route is discovered by Black Sand Region in future, or even if the fact that you came to me for help is exposed—then King Chapman will only think that you have been colluding with Constellation for a long time, harboring ulterior motives.

“And you know how much he hates me.”

Bowl Cut Junior’s gaze shifted from side to side.

“You need to bolster efforts to seek internal support to stand off kinslayers,”

Thales sighed. “Ultimately, Eckstedtian affairs can only be resolved from within.”

Internal support, from within.

Thales felt that he was clear enough.

Both stayed silent for a while.

“I will bear that in mind.” Levi turned solemn. “Your Highness’ priceless advice.”

Thales shook his head. “Of course, One-Eyed Dragon isn’t one to be trifled with.” The youth raised his wine glass and clinked it with Levi’s. “If he goes against his word behind my back and cuts off your transport route, or plans to threaten me with this…” Thales’ gaze turned cold. “Keep me informed.”

Levi’s expression was somber as he merely nodded.

“Finally, about your promise before…” Thales said distractedly.

Levi responded decisively, “I’ll definitely get it done for Your Highness.”

And with that, Polaris saw the seemingly preoccupied Bowl Cut Junior off.

Thales exhaled heavily as he felt disenchanted.

As if even Sin of Hell’s River had dried up.

But the perk of rest that Levi brought were merely those five minutes.

Soon, Thales had no choice but to put on his ‘armor’ again as he welcomed ‘Miss Eleven’ in full armor.

After seeing her off, he made an effort to concentrate and take in his surroundings.

There was still the assassin to worry about.

During this time, his (or rather Mallos’) Star Lake Guards had started to take action; they were quietly deployed in light armor.

Former officer Jean Kommodore, whom Thales had dueled before; the fierce-looking big guy Bastia; the tall and slender Franzuke; and the dull-looking Ferri—these members of the defense Division silently gathered. Some hid in the shadows of the hallway, some disguised as servants serving wine, while some pretended to take on a shift and stood guard near Thales as they vigilantly scanned everyone that approached the prince.

Of the Vanguard Division, left-handed swordsman Jonveled, Vladivostok who practiced shield-raising with Thales, the youthful Ness, the unprepossessing Oscarson, the mixed-race Supa, and veteran Morgan, scattered throughout the hall, each occupying a different section. They stood guard at the higher tiers, the servant passages and entrances, similarly paying attention to the crowd.

As for Procca and the others in the Logistics Division, under the earnest request of the prince, they searched the fireplaces and other hiding places throughout Mindis Hall (“Once upon a time there was an archduke who did not pay attention to the fireplace, and he became king,”—an extremely serious Thales).

Messengers directly under Mallos’ command, Toledo and Townsend, patrolled back and forth as scheduled. They shuttled inconspicuously between the guards, communicating orders and information.

They kept a close eye on the prince as well.

At this sight, Thales felt even more stressed.

The king, the banquet, the guests, the assassin, Constellation, Eckstedt, Saroma, Star Lake Guards, and this darned Mindis Hall and duke title…

He felt bound by countless chains.

The other end of the chains was firmly affixed to each pillar in the hall, paralyzing and suffocating him.

Thales’ smile was already stiff as ice, like a well-worn armor.

The prince looked from afar at the lonely Duke Val who was in shackles, and actually felt a sense of envy.

Perhaps he was more fortunate.

At least, after tonight, he did not have to endure all this.

At this moment, Doyle who was sent on reconnaissance amongst the guests returned.

“Sir, Your Highness.”

He was full of vitality, radiant, majestic, and spirited.

In stark contrast to the drained Thales and stressed-out Mallos.

Thales and Mallos narrowed their eyes simultaneously and leaned forward.

Both stared at the faint mark under Doyle’s collar, a suspicious red—lipstick stain?

Doyle noticed their gazes and calmly fixed his collar. “This, you know, it’s intelligence work…some experienced informants have a high asking price…”

Mallos coughed. “Doyle?”

“Apologies, sir,” Doyle’s expression turned serious as he returned to the topic. “As I see it, almost all the bachelorettes between the ages of nine and 39, as well as their male relatives, are either conspicuously or inconspicuously assessing Your Highness, glancing up every ten seconds, enthusiastically discussing your status, appearance, figure, dress, love life, past achievements, and personality, in order of decreasing importance…”

“Many asked me about your preferences and habits, betting on who can capture your heart! Hehe, little do they know, Your Highness likes…”

Thales frowned. “Doyle?”

“Apologies, Your Highness.” Doyle sensed that something was off and hurriedly changed the topic. “Forgive me for being frank, but their enthusiasm in gathering information about Your Highness, and their gazes at Your Highness, regardless of gender, feel like they want to eat him alive, and seem more assassin-like than actual assassins.”

Doyle shrugged helplessly.

Thales was distracted for a moment as he looked towards the center of the banquet hall.

But wherever he looked, the guests were immersed in their own little world, either chatting away or feasting.

Civilized and polite.

The young ladies were radiant and beautiful. Some were joking with their friends at their tables, some were invited to sing and dance, some were quietly and elegantly accompanying their elders, but none intentionally stared at the prince’s table.

Even if a lady met Thales’ gaze, they mostly lowered their heads courteously, either nodding shyly, responding with a smile, or bowing politely.

They looked natural, self-assured, and dignified.

Not at all uptight nor perturbed by the prince’s status.

Just like the young lady named Linossa or Enissa earlier.

One could not help but feel a sense of respect towards them.

Thales scanned around. “Why don’t I feel it?”

Doyle smiled enigmatically. “Obviously it’s because of your lack of experience, and because they are seasoned and used to scouting out the opponent’s situation before launching an attack…”

This time, Mallos interrupted audibly, “Enough.”

“Glover is back.”

The three of them turned around together: Glover, who had gone to inform the upper ranks, appeared from the shadows of the corridor.

Behind him was a royal guard with a calm look and extraordinary temperament who Thales did not recognize.

Doyle’s expression changed instantly.

“Oh, no.”

Thales looked at the guard and asked, “Who is he?”

Doyle stood up, gritted his teeth and whispered into Thales’ ear, “He’s a bad guy, Your Highness. A bad seed amongst the royal guards, the real villain of Renaissance Palace…”

Thales was stunned.

“I am Vogel Talon,” the man raised his wine glass and approached Thales’ table. He bowed elegantly, more like a guest than a guard. “Your Highness,”

“Deputy Commander of the Royal Guards,

“Cum Chief Flagbearer,

“I wish Your Highness health and happiness.”

Vogel Talon straightened his back and glanced at Glover and Doyle.

The latter two saluted reluctantly and stepped back.

“Deputy Commander…”

Thales, who had mastered the ‘armor’ to the maximum level, raised his glass with a smile and behaved like it was just a normal social courtesy.

“That means, you’re the vice-captain of the Royal Guards? Deputy to Captain Adrian?”

“And your family name… Talon of Ice River City?”

The youth used his quick wit and strived to rapidly switch between the guest’s title and family name.

“Indeed, Your Highness,” Vogel resolved his queries. “My uncle is the Duke of Ice River City.”

Thales eyes glanced over the five-pointed star pattern on his cuff.

Talon of Ice River City.

Distant relative of the Jadestar royal family, one of the Thirteen Distinguished Families, a capable aide within Central Territory, the Talon family with the five-pointed star as their insignia.

Coincidentally, their ancestor was one of the Dukes of Star Lake in history.

But…

Thales ruminated on his other title.

Chief Flagbearer?

He suddenly thought of Samel, the former royal guard who had joined Disaster Sword.

“Enjoy your night.”

Vogel did not say much else. He bowed and went to the auxiliary table, sat beside Mallos and clinked glasses with him.

They looked like old friends drinking together in a corner.

“Lord Talon, good evening,” Mallos greeted him expressionlessly and in a business-like tone, “I believe, you bring with you the captain’s orders?”

“Oh, Tormond,” Vogel warmly addressed Mallos, but Thales noticed that his smile was superficial, as if he had separate layers on his face, “About what you reported…”

“We look forward to your explanation.”

“I believe Glover has explained very clearly,” the watchman responded calmly, “For security reasons, we are now…”

“Clearly?” Vogel swiveled his glass and interrupted Mallos amiably, “You’re certain it’s an assassin?”

Mallos’ pupils contracted.

Thales furrowed his brows.

After a few seconds, Mallos replied slowly, “Very likely.”

Vogel set down his wine glass, his tone tensed up. “Likely?”

“My dear Tormond, do you even know what you’re talking about?”

Glover and Doyle sensed that the atmosphere had begun to strain and exchanged looks.

“This is the first official banquet held by the royal family in more than a decade after the war. It’s long been in the works, the guests are distinguished, and the significance is huge,”

The vice-captain continued in a stern voice, “Everything that happens here tonight will spread throughout the kingdom by tomorrow. The consequences are far-reaching,”

He turned around to stare at Mallos, as if he was staring at a criminal. “Whether the banquet is interrupted and guests are arranged to leave hastily, or the Jadestar royal family was cowardly and jittery in search of an assassin,”

Vogel narrowed his eyes. “All because… some guy glanced at you?”

“It all sounds like a scene in a country tavern, Tormond.”

The contempt in his tone was evident.

Thales could not help but look towards Mallos.

“Rightly due to the importance of this banquet,” the personal guard captain of the Duke of Star Lake was not enraged, his tone flat as usual, “If the assassination plot is true, the consequences will be greater.”

Vogel scoffed coldly.

He stared fixedly at Mallos side profile, but the latter merely looked ahead silently as if it was not a blade-like skeptical look that was directed at him.

After a few seconds, Vogel exhaled. “We have started to act.”

Vogel turned around and settled his attention back on his own wine glass. “They will closely monitor everyone that attempts to get close. His Majesty, His Highness, and other important guests will be safe…”

“But a strong shield cannot stop a sharp spear,” Mallos did not look at him, but kept observing the situation in the hall.

“The best way is to avoid the accident before it happens. Perhaps we could temporarily evacuate a portion of…”

But Vogel’s warm tone ossified and cut through Mallos’ words like steel, and he even changed his form of address, “For Sunset Goddess’ sake, Mallos,”

“Don’t tell me what to do.”

He said it slowly, but seriously.

There was a sudden silence between the two.

In that moment, whether it was Doyle and Glover, or Thales, all of them could sense the tension.

The music died down and the ball came to a close.

Minstrels reappeared and sung a tragic tune about the King of Blades’ expedition to Dragon-Kissed Land, which ended in the death of the king in a foreign land on the eve of his victory.

Thales resisted the desire to intervene, trying hard not to look at the two people behind him. He forcefully cut open another lettuce as he smiled widely to see off the next guest that greeted him.

After a while, Mallos’ calm voice could again be heard saying, “I wouldn’t dare, sir.”

Vogel was silent for a while. When he spoke again, everything was back to normal. “We cannot send everyone home just to avoid an accident. This is Mindis Hall. Its reopening signifies the return of the heir to the kingdom, and the return of the kingdom to peace and prosperity.”

Thales sighed in his mind.

Return to peace and prosperity…

Vogel looked around vigilantly to ensure that he did not attract too much attention. “Stay alert. The banquet shall proceed as usual.”

He stood up to leave.

“But this is also the Duke of Star Lake’s Mindis Hall.

“If anything happens, His Highness will inevitably bear the brunt of the blame.”

Mallos turned around slowly and looked Vogel directly in the eyes, “My men will be the ones who bear the responsibility.”

He spoke very slowly.

Vogel stopped in his tracks.

The vice-captain lifted his arm off the table and sat down again.

“Your men?”

This time, Vogel scoffed coldly and his tone was no longer polite.

“Mallos, I think, you, and your little band of pampered rich kids, you need to know your place.”

Glover and Doyle turned pale.

And Thales frowned.

Little band of pampered rich kids…

Mallos listened expressionlessly, yet Vogel’s gaze was resolute. “Even if your station has changed, you are still Royal Guards.

“And I am your—superior.

“Just as Mindis Hall is subordinate to Renaissance Palace.”

Thales was stunned at these words.

Mindis Hall is subordinate to Renaissance Palace…

Vogel’s words sent a chill down their spines. “Don’t ever, ever forget this.

“Watchman.”

Mallos did not react.

Just as Thales did not either.

Time stood still for a few seconds.

In this slice of the world, Glover and Doyle were stock rigid.

Only Mallos inhaled, closed his eyes then opened them again. “Of course, sir.”

“I would neither dare nor forget,” he said respectfully.

Vogel nodded slightly; he looked satisfied.

Until Mallos continued calmly without a trace of emotion, “But if memory serves me right, in a state of emergency…”

“The legacy watchman of the guards, is ranked equal to the vice-captain?

“Isn’t that right, sir?”

This time, it was Vogel who turned pale.

For a split second, Thales thought the temperature had plummeted and the air no longer flowed.

After a few seconds, the vice-captain glared coldly at Mallos and said in a soft and subtle tone, “Indeed. According to the confidential ‘Watchmen’s Code’ in the ‘Sacred Covenant of Praetorians’, under certain ‘states of emergency’, watchmen can, and should make independent decisions.

“And I have no right to interfere.”

Thales was stunned.

Confidential ‘Watchmen’s Code’.

Under certain ‘states of emergency’.

Watchmen can, and should…

Make independent decisions?

Upon hearing those word, Thales’ felt a strain in his heart.

Vogel lowered his voice and said chillingly, “But do you know, the last time the Royal Guards invoked regulations in a state of emergency, activated this confidential code and gave watchmen ultimate power independent of the Command Division…”

“How long ago that was?”

In that moment, Thales spaced out and suddenly thought of Zakriel, whose whereabouts were unknown.

That Knight of Judgement.

“The one who truly needs to bear the crime of fraternizing with the enemy but had despicably hidden the truth for eighteen years… The disgraceful, sad, hypocritical, disgusting, self-proclaimed aloof, sanctimonious traitor who acts differently from how he looks… is me.”

Thales was dumbstruck.

Vogel’s pupils narrowed.

He raised his wine glass, leaned towards Mallos’ ear and said in a suppressed tone, “And you’ve thought it through…”

“That you want to forcibly declare a state of emergency here, in front of me? And invoke the ‘Watchmen’s Code’?

Mallos stared him down in silence.

Glover and Doyle could not hear Vogel’s words clearly, but this did not affect their judgment of the tension between their boss and the vice-captain.

They held their breaths in dread.

It seemed an eternity before Mallos finally laughed. “Of course…”

For a moment, Vogel’s gaze turned ice-cold.

Glover and Doyle were ashen-faced.

Until a few seconds later, the watchman gently lowered his head and chuckled, “…not.”

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