Chapter 635: Sharpening the Knife

In Star Lake Castle's broad Star Glory Courtyard, commonly known as the lumberyard, soldiers, guards, workers, farmers, and many others had gathered together, forming an empty space, the atmosphere heated.

"Go, go, go! Give her a hard one right over the head! Yes, just like that, beauti... waah, that fall had some force! It is fine, believe in yourself, lad. Climb up and keep hitting her! Ouch, that sword of yours is so soft. Are you usually like this? Is life too good, or are you looking forward to your wife cheating?"

In the center of the open ground, Miranda Arunde's figure moved nimbly between two warriors. She was currently engaged in an unfair one-against-two duel with Neci and Bastia of the Star Lake Guards. The young trainee vanguard officer's attacks were as fierce as ever, and he became braver the longer he fought, while the tower-like guard officer held his position firmly, leaking not a drop.

"And that other one, Iron Bucket or Iron Tower or whatever," on the wooden watchtower, the Flower of the Fortress, Sonia, leaned over the railing with half her body, frantically waving her arms and cheering for the fight below. "Do not stand there! Swing the hammer and smash it at her head with all your might! Eh, that's right... what, with that aim? Can you even piss into a pit?"

In the second-floor storeroom, Thales sat by the window, oiling and maintaining the ancient sword Warning while watching the fight with great interest.

He quickly realized that, although it was one against two, the person directing the battle was Miranda.

The female swordsman of the Arunde Family deliberately incited Neci to keep attacking and exhaust his stamina, while using her footwork to force Bastia into becoming her shield and obstructing Neci's blazing offensive. Unfortunately, Neci and Bastia's cooperation was raw, their hands and feet tied. There was no advantage of a two-man pincer attack to be seen at all.

Just like this, Miranda controlled the rhythm of the whole duel with ease. As the fight progressed, she grew increasingly comfortable.

She was different now. The information fed back from the Hell's Senses let Thales make this judgment. Compared with seven years ago, her movements and steps seemed messy and casual, no longer displaying an obvious rhythm or style. But whether it was Neci or Bastia, the instant they took the initiative to attack, they would discover that they were in the worst timing and position, giving Miranda the greatest opportunity.

It felt as though it was not Miranda taking the initiative, but rather her opponents racing to attack her, shaping the battle's environment and situation, stimulating a pile of originally chaotic and meaningless notes into a vivid, orderly movement, waiting for Miranda to step onto the stage and play it.

"She has improved," Thales said, stopping his work and becoming somewhat lost in thought. "Seven years ago, the style of the northern offensive-defensive school could still clearly be seen in her movements. Her shifts between attack and defense were like undeniable accents, instantly reversing the battle. But now..."

"No. Although the influence of the Tower of Eradication's Pegasus lineage is quite large, her northern school foundation is still there," Mallos said, sitting beside Thales and grinding a short blade without raising his head. "It has only sunk from surface tactical style into a deeper strategic style. Once Your Highness has seen more, you will understand."

Here it comes again, the Star version of Wang Yuyan.

Thales curled his lips sarcastically.

"So you have seen quite a lot?"

"Enough," Mallos replied calmly. "When I was still a green trainee officer, I did recording work."

"Then which fight left the deepest impression on you?"

"This place."

Thales raised his head.

Mallos' movements did not stop. He merely switched sides and continued sharpening the blade.

"A long time ago, a certain expert of Star Lake Castle sparred and tested hands with a certain senior of the Royal Guards. I was ordered to serve as an assistant to the flag officer, listening to his explanation while observing and recording."

An expert of Star Lake Castle. A senior of the Royal Guards.

Thales narrowed his eyes.

"Limited by the conditions, they did not truly fight. They merely stepped and shifted on flat ground to represent attack and defense. Their Powers of Eradication appeared only like an ephemeral flower or a dragonfly touching water, ending abruptly before satisfaction could be reached, so they were unable to enjoy themselves fully."

Mallos' eyes paused slightly.

"But in those brief twelve seconds, the two advanced and retreated, came and went. Every detail reached the peak of the Supreme Class, even a level higher. It is enough for me to savor for a lifetime."

Thales was about to ask further when he heard a wave of jeers explode from the crowd.

Miranda neatly withdrew her sword and turned gracefully. The crowd consciously parted a path for her to leave.

Behind her, Neci and Bastia collapsed dispiritedly to the ground, one utterly exhausted, the other bruised and swollen.

"The outcome is decided, Your Highness," Mallos said without looking back. "Now, according to the essentials I taught you, concentrate on maintaining your weapon."

Order returned to the training ground. Everyone went back to their positions, those who trained training, those on duty going on duty. Only in a small corner, several Star Lake Guards were still gathered and discussing intensely, still unsatisfied after that splendid asymmetric battle.

"Quick, quick, quick. The outcome is decided. A bet is a bet," Doyle pushed through everyone with a righteous expression while showing a money pouch under his elbow. "Before Mallos comes down. Do not cheat. I remember how much each person put in."

"Damn it. Two against one and they still lost. Unlucky to the extreme." Fraten painfully counted out several coins and tossed them into the pouch.

The others who lost their bets, including a dissatisfied, snorting Ralf, also unwillingly took out money and stuffed coins into the pouch.

"I knew she was at Broken Dragon Fortress, serving under the Flower of the Fortress," Paul Bozdorf, son of the Black Lion Earl, calmly handed over a gold coin. "But I did not expect... no need for change... that she could fight one against two and not fall behind."

"How did you bastards know to bet on her?" Kusta asked unhappily.

"It is obvious. She has killed people. Her sword has been stained with quite a lot of blood," at the front of the group, Glover refused the coins handed over. He watched Miranda's departing back, his gaze sharp and eager to try. "Quite a lot."

"Chief Miranda's swordsmanship attainment is rather deep. I have long experienced it before. However, gambling is still wrong." Wya nervously looked left and right.

"I do not know the Arunde girl, but I saw old Kong bet on her, so..." Logistics Officer Piloga shrugged.

"Uh, actually I do not know Miss Arunde either, but when the Flower of the Fortress told them to fight her two against one, I knew Neci would lose. Do not ask why." Komuto, on the winners' side, coughed. Seeing the dusty and gloomy Neci walk over, he immediately went forward to comfort him. "Hey, Neci! Good fight. You were just a little unlucky. Keep it up! Right, tonight is my treat!"

Above the waist he pretended to be calm. Below the waist he happily counted money.

Doyle was the briefest.

"His Highness Thales was upstairs, staring at that girl the whole time."

Everyone looked at him in unison.

"What?"

Doyle raised his brows and hurriedly put away the money pouch, looking as though this were only natural. "That explains a lot, all right. His Highness has finally begun to notice women!"

Everyone let out disdainful boos.

"You had better not let His Highness hear those words, and even less Miss Miranda," Wya sighed and shook his head. "That is experience speaking."

"Of course." Doyle gracefully weighed the money pouch, in high spirits.

In the second-floor storeroom, Thales, who had already heard this through the Hell's Senses, calmly turned back.

"Tor, tell me, in the current Star Lake Guards, how many people can defeat Miranda?"

"I do not know. Why Tor?"

"A nickname for Tormond. Guess."

"Nicknames should also require the person's consent, right? The Star Lake Guards have not directly fought Miss Arunde, after all, and fighting is also heavily affected by environment." Mallos' sharpening movements were meticulous. "If we are talking about one-on-one in an arena, matching move against move in a fair sword contest, I dare say that Glover and Doyle, who received strict knight training, can both fight Miss Arunde."

Thales raised his brows.

"Doyle is that fierce?"

Mallos did not answer, merely tugging the corner of his mouth slightly.

"But if they encountered Miss Arunde in the wild, in a life-and-death battle," the Watchman said, putting down the sharpened blade and cleaning the fragments on the table, "may she be merciful and give him a quick end."

"That exaggerated?"

Thales frowned, but his eyes turned.

"What about you? You against Miranda?"

Mallos took out blade oil and smiled when he heard this.

"Miss Arunde and I... mm, fifty-fifty."

"Wow, Tor, your face is really long."

"Pardon?"

"Oh, long face. I mean literally."

"When Your Highness puts it that way, I become even more curious what it means beyond the literal."

"You really shouldn't. You must know that curiosity killed Tor."

"Many thanks for Your Highness' instruction. I dare not forget it even slightly."

Thales gave a mocking snort, but in the next second, he suddenly spoke.

"Did you know in advance that he was coming?"

The question came without warning. Mallos' hand, which was oiling the blade, paused.

"Know what? Who was coming? Coming to do what?" Mallos continued his work, his tone steady, without a ripple.

Tormond Mallos.

Thales looked at the Watchman before him, the one he could least see through, and remembered the moment of their first meeting, thinking about the identity and position of this personal guard captain.

He was the personal guard the king had assigned to him, the Watchman appointed by the Royal Guards, the person with the highest status and position beside him.

But Mallos, between him and the king, what role would he ultimately play? Servant? Protector? Instructor? Watcher? Or...

Betrayer?

Thales gazed at Mallos for a long time, then finally shook his head.

"Nothing. Then do you know what I am doing now?"

Mallos' expression did not change, calm and untroubled.

"Sharpening the knife. You must learn to maintain your own weapon."

Looking at him and listening to his ambiguous answer, full of possible meaning, Thales had no choice but to sigh and hand the oiled Warning to Mallos for inspection.

"All right, Tor. Let me ask this way: in the current Star Lake Guards, who are the people you can trust?"

Hearing that nickname, Mallos also sighed. He took the imperial sword and helplessly inspected Thales' maintenance work.

"People I can trust... why does Your Highness ask me this?"

Thales raised a brow.

"Because I pay your salary?"

Faced with Thales' answer that shifted the focus, Mallos clearly still wanted to discuss the question of "whether it is you or your father who actually pays the salary," but the duke's watchful gaze made him give up on that idea.

The Watchman raised his head and sighed.

"People I can trust? Your Highness, do you mean trust them to bow and scrape and work hard without complaint, or trust them to go through fire and water without hesitation?"

"If it is the former?"

Mallos swept the long sword and his expression grew solemn.

"The Star Lake Guards are elites carefully selected from the Royal Guards. Most of them have the title of royally sealed knight. Every one is a hero among men."

Bow and scrape and work hard without complaint. Every one a hero among men...

With that group under your Guard, whose defenses are practically nonexistent and cannot even discover the prince being beaten on a balcony?

Thales nodded, his expression rather meaningful.

"And the latter?"

"Oh." Mallos instantly returned to cold indifference. "Toledo, Tancin, and Trifanov from the command wing. They are my old subordinates. Glover from the vanguard wing is acceptable. Perhaps also Morgan..."

"Morgan, that old soldier who has a sour face all day? Where did he serve before?"

"The Throat-Cutting Guards of Blade Fief. Yes, there are not many times when he is not angry, but fortunately, he is not responsible for warming Your Highness' bed."

"Warming my bed, really?"

"In the guard wing, I can pick out Bastia and Kusta. They can also reluctantly count as additions..."

"Also count?"

"Forgive my dullness. I cannot tell whether Your Highness is alarmed or pleasantly surprised. Aside from them, Vincenzo Italiano from the logistics wing can be used, and Francisco Carpon from the punishment wing."

Muttering these names, Thales scratched his chin.

"Among Your Highness' old people, Attendant Casso and the mute, thank you, I know his name is Ralf, are both good. That Willow is also passable. Just do not let him handle errands that require using his brain. Mm, in fact, aside from sending him to die, do not entrust him with any errand."

Only this many people.

To take down Jade City?

Thales counted on his fingers, smiling broadly.

"Mm, sounds wonderful. Then are there any kind of people, hypothetically, only hypothetically, who would raise a banner in rebellion for their master and not fear losing their heads?"

Mallos inspected the ancient imperial sword without raising his head.

"How much did Your Highness drink last night?"

Thales pretended not to hear and picked up a cloth to wipe his hands.

"Good. Then bring all the above-mentioned people. Pick a few more 'heroes among men,' leave enough people to guard the place, and make preparations. We are going on a long trip."

Mallos was not at all surprised by the words "long trip." His words remained calm.

"As Your Highness wishes. Not bringing anyone else? Maids? Cooks? Grooms? Jadestar private soldiers? And Madam Valencia?"

"It is not that I do not want to bring her." Remembering the madam's cat-driving stick, Thales breathed out. "Put it this way. If... I hope the people beside me are capable, can fight, can think, and can run."

Mallos nodded.

"Then I suggest bringing Oscasen from the vanguard wing. He is a southerner and is more familiar with the climate and terrain."

Thales frowned.

"I did not say we are going south."

"Is that so? Then I must have remembered wrongly." Mallos weighed Warning in his hand. "Then we will not bring him."

Thales stared fixedly at him. After several seconds, he still sighed dispiritedly.

"Forget it. You... bring him."

"As you command, Your Highness."

Mallos flourished the sword and sheathed Warning.

"Then this martial arts lesson ends here. Your maintenance work was decent. I mean, the thickness is still somewhat uneven, but at least you are beginning to get the hang of it."

Thales stood to receive his precious sword, but the instant his palm pressed against the sheath, he paused.

"I found I missed a question, Tormond."

Thank the gods, Mallos rejoiced inwardly. He did not call me Tor.

"I would be glad to answer, Your Highness."

Thales raised his head and looked directly at Mallos.

"Is this scabbard useful?"

Mallos frowned slightly.

"Of course. Judging from Your Highness' relaxed and happy expression when swinging the scabbard to beat people at the royal banquet that day, it should be very useful."

Thales paused for a moment.

He waved his hand with a dry smile.

"Sorry. Actually, what I was asking was: does this sword and scabbard fit me?"

Mallos nodded slightly.

"After all, it was remade according to Your Highness' height, arm length, strength, and sword habits. If it does not fit, then it must be because you have grown taller recently."

Thales looked down at Warning in his hand, lost in thought.

"Does it fit?"

"It fits." Mallos said lightly.

"The length, weight, grip, balance, and scabbard structure all fit Your Highness. But Your Highness, even a sword that fits will cut your hand if you draw it recklessly."

Thales narrowed his eyes.

"Is this advice?"

"In fact, Your Highness, I think that should be my line."

If it were, that would be wonderful.

Thales smiled sarcastically, waved, and turned.

All right. This side was arranged.

Next, he had to go to the South Coast...

"So, Your Highness, from now on..."

"All right, all right, all right, I know. From now on, I will not climb walls again. I swear, the next time I want to mess with a woman, I will openly beat gongs and drums and walk out the front gate..."

"I had Tancin set a safety rope outside the window."

Mallos' voice sounded behind him. "The next time you climb a wall, remember to tie it first."

Safety rope.

Thales' raised hand stopped in midair.

He turned back blankly.

"Safety rope? Tormond, you..."

Mallos sighed softly, helpless.

"We have been together for some time, Your Highness. I know I cannot stop you from being foolish, stupid, ill, or a disaster..."

Thales' expression darkened.

All right, this jerk was indeed very annoying.

"...just as I could not stop you from leaving the carriage that day, or rushing out to duel someone regardless of everything."

"But I also do not want to order a coffin for Your Highness, or for me, or for anyone in this castle."

Thales frowned.

"So, before this long trip, if Your Highness can mercifully pity us," Mallos crossed his arms and pointed his thumb outside the window, "the safety rope?"

After saying this, Mallos lightly nodded and turned to leave.

Watching his back, Thales' mood was complicated for a moment, and he did not know how to react.

Thales lowered his head and looked at Warning in his hand.

The size of the scabbard was just right, perfectly suited to be held in hand.

Presumably, it was the same when drawing the sword from the sheath?

Thales took a deep breath.

"Hey."

Thales called Mallos to stop.

"After returning from Renaissance Palace, I never had the chance to say it, but... thank you, Tor."

Damn it.

Mallos sighed inwardly. Why did the name change back again?

Thales walked forward and flattened his mouth.

"I know I am a difficult boss to serve. Impulsive, childish, self-important, always making stupid decisions that embarrass you, almost terrible."

"You may remove the 'almost,'" Mallos said without changing expression.

This jerk...

Thales forcefully smoothed the brows that had squeezed hard together and took a deep breath before speaking.

"But thank you for all your help. You have been... covering the bottom for me."

Thales swallowed.

Good thing he had not blurted out wiping my ass.

Damned Secret Intelligence Department.

Mallos looked at him, confusion surfacing in his eyes.

Thales struggled to speak.

"Especially on the day I forced my way into Renaissance Palace. Thank you for the manpower and fallback plans you left for me, thank you for your reminder before I entered the palace, and... the matters afterward, all of these, things like that."

Mallos frowned. Judging from his appearance, it was as though he was looking at a lunatic.

Thales forced out a smile.

All right. He really was not too suited to saying these emotional words.

The duke wore a stiff smile, spread his hands, and mechanically turned away.

"In short, thank you."

"And the previous royal banquet," Mallos suddenly said.

Thales' body, halfway through turning, paused.

"What?"

Mallos breathed out through his nose.

"Among the things you should thank me for, you need to add that one too."

Thales reacted and coughed awkwardly.

"Oh, right, that one too. Uh, thank you."

"And the days in Mindis Hall."

Thales could only nod in agreement.

"And the days in Mindis Hall."

"And the day you came back from the Western Desert."

Thales closed his eyes and sighed.

"And the day I came back from the Western Desert."

"And the management affairs of Star Lake Castle."

Thales repeated woodenly.

"And the management affairs of Star Lake Castle."

"And..."

"Enough already," Thales finally could not bear it. "How far are you going to count?"

Mallos smiled.

"You are welcome, Your Highness. This is within my duty."

His smile at this moment was very much like his usual professional smile, with politeness and faint sarcasm.

Very much like it.

"I dare not accept such heavy thanks from Your Highness," the Watchman said lightly, then turned and left.

Thank you my ass.

Thales rolled his eyes at Mallos' back, swallowed "I will leave this time to you, then," into his stomach, and by the way threw that tiny bit of gratitude and that tiny little pinch of guilt toward the Watchman straight into the bottom of the Hell's River, praying they would never reincarnate.

Mallos was extremely efficient. By only the next day, everyone knew that His Highness Thales was about to depart and visit the South Coast. The entire Star Lake Castle began to operate. Everyone was busy preparing matters for the duke's long trip. Many people also began to wonder about the duke's objective and business on this journey. Unfortunately, such top secret matters could only be known in part by message informants buried in the deepest reaches of Star Lake Castle.

But Thales did not expect that after news of the duke's trip spread, the first person to come find him would actually be this person.

"Forget the Flower of the Fortress. She does hold herself quite highly, and as rumored, is difficult for strangers to approach."

At the door of the duke's room, Paul Bozdorf, son of the Black Lion Earl, who was passing on patrol, looked at the cold back walking into the room and sighed. "I was still thinking of exchanging a few pleasantries."

Beside him, Doyle bit into a sausage while closing the door and shaking his head in denial.

"No, no, no. It is not arrogance, nor is it being difficult for strangers to approach. Believe me, no one is born liking to wear a sour face."

Doyle forcefully swallowed a mouthful of sausage.

"Girls of this age being unsmiling and cold as frost is a forced choice, and also the best and most direct protection, especially women who must work together with men. Compared with being amiable and smiling, doing this saves them a great deal of unnecessary trouble."

Paul frowned.

"How do you know?"

Doyle smoothed his hair and struck a graceful pose.

"I wish I did not know. But there is nothing I can do. Natural talent."

Paul shook his head with a scoff.

"Since you understand girls' thoughts so well, you should be better at catering to them and widely welcomed," Paul stared at him, "but why, when I arrived at the capital, did everyone in the circle say you are exaggerated, fickle, and debauched, with a notorious reputation, so that unmarried girls of good families all keep a respectful distance from you?"

Hearing this, Doyle's smile stiffened.

But in only two seconds, his expression changed. He turned around and winked.

"Hey, that is because you do not understand the good points of mature women."

Paul was speechless.

"But she is not married yet, after all." Paul fell into thought. "Coming privately to find His Highness Thales at this time is somewhat..."

Doyle's expression grew serious.

"Oh, you do not need to worry about this. Ha, I asked Wya. Mm, the real Wya. Oh, you do not know what the real Wya is. It does not matter. In any case, Wya. First, His Highness and she are old acquaintances and once fought side by side."

"Second, I believe you can also see it. She is not one of those noble young ladies with only romance in her head."

Doyle blinked, chewed and swallowed the last mouthful of sausage, full of confidence and resolute certainty.

"So I dare be certain of one thing: she and His Highness meeting at this time will absolutely not be discussing any melodramatic private matters between men and women, marriage, or love!"

Inside the room.

"Miranda?"

Thales, who was copying Sunset scripture, making up homework before class, was both surprised and delighted to see who had arrived.

Before him, the cold female swordsman picked up the cup of tea on his desk that he had not had time to drink, without the slightest avoidance.

"Lady."

"What?"

"It is Lady Arunde," Miranda said coldly. "You are a prince. Your address should be proper."

Thales' little face darkened.

Really? Again?

Your boyfriend messing with me was not enough? You too?

"All right, respected Lady Miranda Arunde, daughter of the Northland Duke, glorious descendant of the Snow Eagle Family, proud Pegasus Chief of the Tower of Eradication, Winterless Sword of Cold Castle, high-flying falcon of Broken Dragon Fortress."

Thales had no choice but to push away the scripture, lean back, tilt the new chair made by the carpenter onto two legs, and smile helplessly and boredly.

"With your grand arrival, is there anything I can do for you?"

Miranda expressionlessly put down the teacup and stood before his desk like a sharp blade in snow, cold and keen.

"There is."

Miranda stared fixedly at him, the meaning in her eyes unclear.

Several seconds later, she took a deep breath, her gaze firm.

"Do you want to marry me?"

With a bang, the chair leg broke, and Thales landed solidly on the floor.