Long ago, before Prince Tomund led the remnants of the Final Empire, pointed to the stars overhead, and swore to establish the Star Kingdom here, the DC District had been nothing more than the northeastern outskirts of Everstar City.
As the Star Kingdom grew stronger and expanded its territory, the kingdom's upper power structure began to swell. There were more and more lords, nobles, and officials. The important people of the Royal Capital were unwilling to live in the same area as vulgar merchants, ordinary citizens, or even filthy prostitutes, thieves, and thugs, so they began building homes in the northeastern outskirts.
Gradually, the area became a gathering place where nobles established estates in the Royal Capital. It was soon incorporated into Everstar City's jurisdiction by the City Hall, becoming the most important urban district after the Central District and Morning Star District. Lords who guarded the kingdom's borders, favorites of the Royal Capital's court, and even foreign exiled politicians all liked to build villas and estates here.
The properties of nobles and officials, both large and small, were spread all over the district. There were almost no residences or markets for commoners, and most of the people coming and going were servants and subordinates of various families and factions. Besides its outrageously high land prices, the DC District also had an unwritten rule: when buying land, one's chosen location had to match one's corresponding status and qualifications. You probably don't want to know what happened to those who violated this rule. Even families on the level of the Six Great Houses and the Thirteen Noble Families, despite each having estates in the outskirts of the Royal Capital, had built their own properties in the DC District. Naturally, they were all located in the best areas, regardless of whether the nobles of those families visited often.
Precisely because of this, the already enormous DC District had estates and villas spaced far apart. The grass and trees between the estates were instead maintained by the City Hall, flourishing luxuriantly. The main roads were broad, imposing, and perfectly level, with a large Eternal Lamp supplied by the City Hall illuminating the road every twenty meters.
The Alert Officers and City Guard patrolling these avenues had to be cautious and careful on the one hand. Even their superiors could not bear the consequences of offending these great personages. On the other hand, they could also be relaxed and at ease. Under normal circumstances, whenever an incident required the Vigilant Hall or City Guard to intervene, the nobles usually had their own ways of handling it, so there was no need to trouble themselves.
As the City Guard captain who patrolled the DC District's main roads year-round, Jenard had barely used the sword and crossbow on his person in the past ten years. His helmet and armor, however, were as bright as new. Whenever he encountered a great noble's carriage on the road, he was accustomed to straightening his armor, stepping aside, removing his helmet, and saluting. (According to the Head of Vigilant Hall in the Eastern District, they should have replaced their heavy helmets with caps long ago. Removing their helmets to salute was simply too ridiculous.)
Jenard cherished his job. He knew how much effort his comrades from back then had spent to transfer him—someone who should have been discharged along with the army and left to make his own way in the world—to the Royal Capital City Guard, and specifically to the stable, peaceful DC District where he could occasionally earn tips.
As a farmer from the countryside of southern Daolun County, Jenard had experienced enough colorful events to be worth a ballad sung by minstrels.
More than a decade ago, when he had been about nineteen—Jenard had stopped remembering his birthday after his father died—the whole village suffered a natural disaster. It was then raided and looted by a mob of bandits. Unable to survive, Jenard enlisted in the Starlight Legion that Duke John had recruited for his campaign southward.
Brave in battle and quick-witted, he had survived the perilous defense of Emerald City;
He had once risked his life carrying two sacks of flour and somehow kept up with the main force during the great retreat through the Wola Corridor. He had bravely followed the Duke's Guard in breaking through the encirclement at Tusk Land. ("Before we regrouped with the other troops, we all owed you money for those two sacks of flour." —Duke John)
On his superiors' orders, he had once followed the army into the welcoming banquet hosted by Count Dell's family, watching as the Duke, who was a guest, calmly incorporated their private soldiers into his own forces;
He had even charged through the bombardment of Magic Energy Guns during the decisive battle at Spark Plain and hacked an axe apart with a single blow;
He had once led a squad beneath the Nine-Pointed Star Flag, holding off the Rebels' final desperate counterattack at Blade Gap.
Until the final Siege of Sotala. Jenard let out a deep sigh, cursing the day when victory and sorrow had coexisted, then waved to his men and cleared a path for the knights opposite him carrying the Iris Flower banner.
There were thirty-four knights of the Cavendish Family, with no carriages accompanying them. They were probably subordinates carrying out an errand for their master.
The two at the front seemed to possess strength above the Transcendent Rank. As for the others, judging by their movements on horseback and the positions of their weapons, they were all showpieces. Jenard secretly curled his lip and stepped aside.
In little more than a year, Jenard had risen from an ordinary baggage soldier to a conscripted combat soldier, then to a swordsman, an infantry squad captain, and finally the most honored Duke's Guard. He had gone from a farmer who did not even know how to hold a sword to a seasoned and outstanding officer. His rare battlefield experience had also made him an exceptional fighter even among the Mortal Tier—one who would not fear a Transcendent Warrior in the slightest as long as he had three or five companions forming a battle formation. Even after the Starlight Legion disbanded, Jenard had kept in mind the teachings of the respected captain of the Duke's Guard and had never neglected his training.
He had seen countless knights during the most perilous days. These mounted warriors, famed for their charging power, included noble heroes who were brave, valiant, and highly skilled, as well as cowardly, bully-the-weak-and-fear-the-strong wastrels. Of course, under Duke John's command, the former far outnumbered the latter.
Thus, Jenard could tell at a glance that the two leading knights were calm and moved fluidly. Their slightly crouched postures were ready to exert force from horseback at any moment, and they each had a sword at their waist and on their saddle, both within easy reach of their dominant hands. They had clearly experienced battle to some extent and were experts. On the battlefield, such experts above the Transcendent Rank would definitely be officers of a combat company. Whether charging, launching surprise attacks, defending, serving as reserves, or even acting as guards for a commander, they were indispensable pillars and even the core of any force. Baron Alaka Mu, for example, was a celebrated figure in the kingdom.
Now, one of the knights who had brought more than twenty people and should have passed them instead reined in his horse and rode toward Jenard.
"City Guard!" The knight had thinning hair and was in his thirties. His blue-green, lightly engraved plate armor was obviously a finely crafted heirloom of a noble family. He scowled and looked down from his horse as he interrogated Jenard, who was at the front. "We saw the hoofprints of a large group on the road. There shouldn't be so many cavalry in the DC District at this hour. Did you encounter them?"
Should you be here, then? Jenard looked at the noble knight beneath the Tricolor Iris banner and sneered inwardly.
But after ten years of working for the City Guard, reality had long since worn down his edges. The former Duke's Guard merely lowered his head humbly and obediently before replying, "My lord, the lords are the only ones in the DC District capable of mobilizing large numbers of private soldiers. We wouldn't dare inquire into their affairs."
Seychelles, a trusted knight of Duke Jenn, frowned. "You encountered those cavalrymen? Which family do they belong to? What banner were they flying?"
Jenard fell silent for a moment.
The thirty-two riders who had passed by a dozen minutes earlier ranged from the Mortal Tier to the Transcendent Rank. The noble at their head had nimble movements but was clearly not a soldier, and there had even been a woman among those behind him. Yet Jenard had not seen them raise any banner.
But how could someone who had served under Duke John for so many years fail to recognize the movements, equipment, and shield designs of those soldiers? Back then, many members of the Duke's Guard had been private soldiers whom the Duke had brought from his family. They had followed the Duke south and become his guards.
Some of those men had saved his life, and he had saved theirs. Almost all of them were good men to whom he could entrust his back—oh, and one good woman as well. They truly were warriors beneath the Nine-Pointed Star Flag.
Yes, Jenard told himself once more: those thirty-odd cavalrymen were members of the Crescent Star Family, private soldiers of the royal family.
Most importantly, they belonged to the family of Duke John, for whom he had once sworn to give his life.
"Yes, my lord," Jenard replied firmly. "We encountered them, just now."
"They didn't display any banners, and I don't know where they went."
The former Duke John's Guard saluted. It was deeply ironic. Back when he had served under Duke John, the king's brother, no one had taught him how to salute nobles. Yet on his second day in the Royal Capital, a low-ranking City Hall official had angrily ordered him to learn the proper saluting posture. ("They're nobles, you know?"—Jenard's former City Guard superior.)
But this ordinary City Guard captain likely had no idea how great an impact the information he concealed would have on himself and on the future of the entire Star Kingdom.
Seychelles frowned, reached into his money pouch, and grabbed a handful. He tossed the two silver and gold coins he happened to catch back into the pouch, then scattered the remaining copper coins among the City Guard soldiers.
"Your tip," he said, then turned his horse and caught up with his companions.
"Don't overthink it, and don't meddle in the affairs of the other families. Just handle the Duke's orders properly. With both of us here, there isn't anything in the Royal Capital we can't resolve, unless we're going to storm Revival Palace. If those Vampires refuse to cooperate, death is their only path." Seychelles returned to the front of the riders and listened as the other noble knight beside him, the calm-faced Cassian, spoke softly.
"If they belong to another family, why didn't they display their banner? When was the last time thirty or forty unidentified cavalrymen rode into the DC District at night?" Seychelles remained cautious. Having traveled through the Suye War on the Eastern Continent, he had learned caution and meticulousness from the people of the East.
"His Majesty's forty-eighth birthday is approaching. This birthday is too important. Noble envoys from every region, special envoys from the lords, diplomatic delegations and spies from every country and state, representatives from Terminus Tower and the churches of the Gods, and all kinds of factions operating in secret—in other words, the eyes of the entire world will be focused on the Royal Capital."
"And all the major families in the kingdom are making moves, openly or otherwise. That's perfectly normal. Aren't we doing the same, and working toward it as well?" Cassian turned his head and said calmly, "If you're truly worried, report it after we've finished our business. It has nothing to do with our mission."
"I hope so..." Seychelles rubbed the sword at his waist. Thinking of the sharp-eyed City Guard captain he had just seen, he fell into a daze again.
"I hope it isn't another family's move."
"Relax, Lord Seychelles," Cassian said leisurely. "At a time like this, apart from vying with the royal family, any action directed at the Nineteen Noble Houses will be regarded as treason."
"How could a traitor to the nobility possibly succeed in 'choosing the king'?"
Jinnie flashed a sharp glint in her eyes. Dodging two Blood Thralls that charged at her frantically, she flicked the silver chain sword in her hand and bound them. Two other Terminus Swordsmen of the Crescent Star Family stepped forward in coordination and drove their silver swords into the creatures' hearts.
But the court Female Official sensed something in an instant. She dropped to her knees and rolled, avoiding a sharp claw that suddenly flashed into existence.
The female member of the Blood Race, Rolana, missed her strike. She turned angrily and blocked two silver swords, then screamed and retreated rapidly in a flicker of movement amid sizzling sounds.
My newly regrown right arm is still awkward, limiting my strength, Rolana thought resentfully. That damned half-crippled Psion.
"You blood-sucking bitch, aim properly next time! I've seen plenty of Vampire crimes in the city—and I've even personally arrested a Blood Count of the Auras Family!" Jinnie sat up in a fiery temper. Her long arms jerked, and the chain sword instantly locked around Rolana's left leg.
She wrapped the chain sword around her right arm. A tremendous, inexplicable force surged forth, and she yanked hard!
Rolana dodged a sword flash, stumbled, and was dragged straight to the ground! She screamed as she was pulled along continuously.
The strength of this Short-Lived Species... Is she a monster?
Rolana roared and clawed at the ground, resisting Jinnie's monstrous strength. Before she could steady herself, another silver sword stabbed toward her.
This damned sword formation! Rolana cursed inwardly. Facing enemies like these, she could not bring her extraordinary speed or special abilities into play at all.
The Starfall Formation was a circular defensive formation. Each section along the formation's outer edge could deploy a few smaller teams, serving as the formation's tentacles and probes. In a melee, they could also advance and retreat flexibly.
As for the Blood Thralls—Rolana cautiously dodged a silver sword while resisting Jinnie's tremendous strength, then kicked away the swordsman attacking her—the Blood Thralls were becoming fewer and fewer under the coordinated encirclement of the sword formation. After all, how could mindless monsters possibly defeat battle-hardened swordsmen?
"Gilbert!" Jinnie roared as she tightened the chain sword in her hands. "Where's that kid? We've been dragged down by these two and a bunch of lunatics for so long. You'd better have a plan that makes sense!"
At the other side of the formation, by the entrance to the manor, Gilbert held a sword in one hand and a staff in the other. Working seamlessly with several Terminus Swordsmen, he was surrounding the blond Istrone.
"Yordel has been held up by the other side. That guy is also in the Extreme Realm!" Gilbert said with a frown. "But since we're stuck here, we can only trust him!"
"You men are all so useless!"
Gilbert ignored Jinnie's scolding and shifted his attention back to the Istrone before him. It was this exceptionally swift member of the Blood Race who had snatched Tales away from beneath the eyes of eight guards, taking their lives along with him.
Istrone's special talent was a speed far beyond that of ordinary members of the Blood Race. Though he was still in the Transcendent Rank, his speed alone was enough to surpass most of his peers. Yet tonight, he had encountered two opponents among the Short-Lived Species who were also in the Transcendent Rank but were completely unafraid of his extraordinary speed.
One had been Nekla of the Blood Bottle Gang. Istrone had seen clearly that Nekla could not match his speed during their first few exchanges. But for some unknown reason, after a few moves, Nekla's speed and reaction time had grown faster and faster. At the crucial moment, Nekla's punching speed and footwork had actually reached a barely equal level with the Blood Race. If Chris had not intervened suddenly, Istrone even felt that his opponent's speed would eventually have surpassed his own!
The second made Istrone's scalp prickle. It was the elegant and noble-looking middle-aged aristocrat before him, who nevertheless filled him with fear! Like Nekla, Gilbert could not keep up with his speed. But the noble used his own method to forcibly restrain the high speed Istrone prided himself on.
The silver sword in Gilbert's right hand was extremely steady, and his steps were filled with the elegance of a noble duel. But Istrone was not worried about his sword. The blond member of the Blood Race could easily deal with that sword speed while also overturning two swordsmen.
What worried him was the staff in Gilbert's left hand!
Compared to his conventional swordsmanship, that staff seemed to be wielded by an entirely different person! Whenever Istrone dodged or parried the silver sword and was about to counterattack, the strange staff would strike through the air, hitting precisely in the direction he had prepared to attack, or at the critical point where he was exerting force. It would forcefully knock Istrone back in frustration, causing him to fall into the encirclement of the other swordsmen.
Because of that strange staff, Istrone even felt that he was not the one holding Gilbert back. Rather, Gilbert was suppressing him!
But Istrone did not know that he had fallen into Gilbert's trap from the very beginning. The key to the Gilbert family's inherited martial arts was not the staff, but the ordinary-looking sword in his right hand!
"Lord Chris!" The blond noble's ears twitched as he heard his cousin Rolana's low muttering amid the melee.
"We can't hold out much longer. Has His Highness still not woken up? If necessary, take the ancestral coffin and retreat!"
They did not know that at that very moment, Chris was tightly gripping Yordel's short sword, his face filled with astonishment and disbelief.
That emotion had even spread to the opponent before him, Yordel behind the mask.
Chris muttered something. Only Yordel opposite him and the members of the Blood Race with their extraordinary hearing could hear it.
The two experts of the Extreme Realm stopped fighting, released one another, and stepped back separately.
Rolana and Istrone heard Chris's mutter at the same time and opened their mouths wide. But they immediately retreated at high speed, doing nothing but dodge without counterattacking.
Soon, everyone fighting in the open ground was shocked to discover that the Blood Thralls were also howling as they retreated to the side. They did not resist even when the swordsmen beside them cut off their heads.
Jinnie, inside the sword formation, stared at Gilbert in astonishment. Gilbert, however, continued frowning deeply as he considered the situation before him.
They did not remain puzzled for long.
"Clomp! Clomp! Clomp!"
Several hurried footsteps belonging to a child came from inside the house.
Accompanying the footsteps was the childish voice of a boy.
"Everyone!"
Everyone in the open ground saw Tales, bare-chested and panting, pulling a silver-haired little girl wearing his shirt out through the first-floor doorway and into the open area of the estate.
Before he had time to see the situation clearly, Tales used all the strength a seven-year-old boy possessed, his mind in chaos, and shouted at the sky using every expression he knew:
"Everybody stop!"
"We're allies!"
"Friendly_fire!"
"Knock_it_off!"
As soon as his voice fell, the silver-haired little girl behind Tales hurried along, unable to stop herself. She slammed headfirst into the boy's back and fell to the ground with him.