The King of the Northern Kingdom was a middle-aged man with a stern face, who appeared to be older than His Majesty Goethe of Sydney.
In terms of legends, he did not seem to be one, which was quite fatal, I fear his son will be dead of old age, and that Goethe kid might still be bouncing around for a while.
But this was not sothing for Malin to worry about, being a guest, Malin had t quite a few nobles of the North under the guidance of this man over fifty.
The Northerners were visibly stronger than those from the South, perhaps it was as they said, the result of humans intermarrying with Frost Giants, or maybe it was due to genetic manipulation from the past, in any case, when Malin saw these big fellows, he always had an air of frustration in his heart that he couldn’t vent—how can each and every one of you be so tall? He really wanted to break sothing.
Maybe it was the influence of bloodlines, Malin laughed very sincerely while trying hard to suppress the anger in his heart, until the old man began to introduce his son: "This is my son, Soren Manheim."
Looking at this sowhat shy boy, Malin smiled and extended his hand—for young children, Malin never had a stern face, but as for the elderly father or so other situation, that was sothing Malin didn’t quite understand.
"Greetings, revered God-chosen Champion, Prince of Farol, wise Malin Gaiate," the child recited Malin’s three titles like reading from a list, which made Malin feel amused but at the sa ti, a trace of sadness—royal children, truly have it hard, but as the saying goes, ’Heavy is the head that wears the crown.’ This future ruler ought to endure this ordeal.
After shaking hands, Malin detected an issue from the contact— the child’s body seed sowhat frail, it wasn’t clear what the matter was, perhaps it was an innate illness inherited from the mother, but it probably wasn’t a curse, since Malin would have sensed it had it been a curse upon touching the child.
"Your child is unexpectedly young," Malin turned his head and remarked to the monarch.
"War and misfortune have let the Reaper easily snatch my other children from my grasp," the middle-aged man on the verge of old age sighed as he reached out to gently rub his child’s head: "Mr. Malin, may we have a word in private."
"Certainly," Malin nodded, to have a word in private was not for anything else, having cards to play was key.
So, King Manheim, with his child, and Malin with Lulu, entered the antechamber, where the royal guards opened the door for them and after they entered, closed it behind them.
Malin initially thought that the monarch would object to bringing Lulu into the room, but it turned out he didn’t mind and even greeted Lulu: "Child of the Hagelberry family, I am delighted to et you by Malin’s side, it seems the Hagelberrys have found you a suitable husband."
"Your Highness, you are too kind. Our Hagelberry family has always been your most loyal subjects," Lulu replied with a smile.
"Indeed, it is true, you may still be a daughter of the Hagelberrys, but after all, you’re about to beco a wife to the Gaiates, so the words I’m about to say to your husband, you may also listen in," and with that said, the monarch turned to Malin: "Mr. Malin, as you can see, if this kingdom were a person, it would be so aged it could barely walk, its life riddled with wounds. Nobles with ulterior motives, generals waiting to sell their loyalty, mayors who switch allegiances at the drop of a hat, Northern idealists intent on establishing a republic, and even the Church that picks allies based on its own needs. With the death of successive princes, the Manheim family is at its most precarious. I need your help, Mr. Malin."
Faced with the monarch’s frankness, Malin was silent for a mont before he gave a helpless smile, "Your Majesty, why speak so? Your kingdom is not my Farol Principality. If you plan to entrust your fifth son to soone, you should find help from among your nobles."
"Mr. Malin, do you truly think my nobles are that reliable?" The monarch’s counter-question left Malin silent, and in the end, he could only smile, "Indeed not very reliable. On another note, what happened to your previous sons?"
Under Malin’s questioning, the monarch recounted the deaths of his four sons.
First was the eldest son, who died on the battlefield against Chaos thirteen years prior, an arrow piercing his neck from the side.
The second to fall was the third-born, who nine years ago died in The Capital, Copenhagen—while assisting the police in capturing a band of robbers who had made their way there, tragically struck by a stray bullet in the head.
The third casualty was the second-born, who died in battle eight years ago, a year after the third-born’s death; his unit was surrounded on the battlefield and despite the kingdom’s army and nobles’ desperate efforts, they could not save him.
The last was the fourth son, who died six years ago, struck by a stray bullet on the battlefield during a charge.
Listening to this, Malin’s only thought was that if one were to pick soone from the noble circle for target practice, there would likely still be culprits that escape—never had he seen such outrageous circumstances, do Manheim royalty always die so unceremoniously?
"Have you investigated these incidents?"
"I have, and it is precisely because the findings were too unblemished, that I realized this country seems to have grown weary of everything about the Manheim family, including our inheritance," the monarch sighed, "You see, Mr. Malin, there is no one left in this country I can trust. A single glance, a thought, even a judgnt of mine can be captured by those treacherous nobles. Perhaps I will be the last king of the Manheim family, but please, no matter what, I implore you to help — at least allow Soren not to die innocently because of his status. I know this is like hijacking your will, but I truly have no other recourse; I can only turn to you and beg for your assistance."
Hearing His Majesty speak to this extent, Malin’s heart was sowhat lancholic—a mighty king, who was already prepared for his family’s end, could still face it so calmly.
"Your Excellency." The old man spoke again.
As he watched a child’s head peeking out from behind him, Malin sighed, "I agree to your request, and I will help you contact the Lord of Justice Church and the Goddess of Harvest Church. At any rate, you should at least believe the mbers of these two churches."
Truth be told, he didn’t want to ddle with His Majesty’s family affairs, but his child, who was only six years old, was so understanding that Malin eventually chose to give him a hand.
"I can’t thank you enough, Mr. Malin." After the old father finished speaking, he lowered his head and began to instill in his son how Malin would help him.
Malin turned to look at Lulu, "The problems within your country have beco this serious, and I wasn’t inford."
"Why would I want the Southerners to laugh at us? Although I am a mber of the Hagelberry family, I am, after all, a Northerner." The girl spoke, sighing with so regret, "Indeed, like His Majesty said, when the Manheim family faces turbulence, the nobles keep up appearances but are emotionally distant. In remote areas, Northern ideologists are bribing village chiefs and villagers. Among the Northerners, there are various people, such as fanatical ideologists, famous nobility, or even opportunists. In fact, anyone in the country could be a Northerner. They would eagerly watch their king make a fool of himself and then rise up against him." Lulu’s statent sent a dangerous signal to Malin.
This country... has indeed reached this point.
It seed as if everyone was eager to destroy the country, scavenging for all usable resources from the corpse of the nation.
Among these people, there were idealists of noble intent, pragmatic realists, and double-dealing fence-sitters—seemingly everyone was impatient.
Poor Mr. Manheim.
Malin made such an assessnt of the situation—judging from what His Majesty had said, it was now quite clear that everyone in the country seed impatient to sit down and feast on the royal family.
However... these diners probably hadn’t anticipated that soone would be quicker than their carving knives.
"Maybe I should have a talk with the person in charge of the Northern ideologists." Malin said.
Lulu was skeptical about this, "Mr. Malin, you cannot possibly find them. These guys are like rats; they can’t be found."
"Want to make a bet?" Malin already had a plan and a target in mind.
"Bet what?" Lulu was curious, "Do you really think you can find them?"
"If I’m not mistaken, I think I’ve already found one of them." Malin was confident, "I’ll take you to et him tomorrow."
Just as this conversation ended, King Manheim approached Malin with his child, "Your Excellency, if sothing happens to , I entrust my child to you."
"I will rember our pledge, Your Majesty, but don’t worry, I will help you." Malin reassured His Majesty while patting the little prince’s head, "Your Highness, you too, please make an effort."
"I will be very obedient," the little prince said earnestly.
Malin nodded, "Trust , I will protect you, Your Highness."
"I believe Mr. Malin, because Mr. Malin is a great hero."
The child’s smiling face made Malin feel that the child was indeed worth protecting.
Yes, he would visit the bishop from the Goddess of Harvest Church first thing in the morning; Malin believed that the bishop should be aware of the situation with the church and the Northern ideologists.
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