"'Dazzling Star' Theodora.
"This is the daughter of the Oath Keeper, the noble princess of the royal family." Norb paused and looked at Thales meaningfully.
"Also the Duchess of Star Lake."
'The daughter of the Oath Keeper?'
Thales held his breath as he looked at the female knight with sharp eyes and thin lips.
"Never married, she was not famous in history, but she was the longest-serving Chief of Intelligence of the Secret Intelligence Department. Her elven bloodline allowed her to live a long and healthy life, so long that she had to retire behind the scenes and appoint another chief to avoid controversy."
Thales looked curiously at the heroic princess and the Duchess of Star Lake.
His … ancestor.
[Theodora E. M. Jadestar, 354-?]
Her temperament reminded people of the Fortress Flower, but the latter was far from Theodora's domineering aura, which was like a silver radiance that made people bow their heads.
"But her death year is not written on this," Thales said, puzzled.
Norb smiled.
"Because we, the Secret Intelligence Department, do not know.
"It is said that when Princess Theodora truly left the Secret Intelligence Department at the age of 101 and went far away, the reigning 'Surviving King', Alan the Third, was already one of her great-grandchildren."
In comparison, her brothers had a much shorter lifespan.
Norb said.
Thales looked down and saw the princess' words embroidered with gold thread.
[Look, look, look. What the f * ck are you looking at, idiot.]
Thales was petrified.
'What the hell?'
Thales looked at the neatly embroidered but full of profanities, and his face twitched in disbelief.
'This is …
The Princess of Constellation? '
"Can't you say something else? Something more normal? "
Norb showed an awkward expression and hesitated.
"Well, because it was her own will, it's not, it's not convenient."
'What if she comes back one day?' He bit the words in his mouth.
Thales narrowed his eyes and understood.
He accepted the advice and stopped looking at Theodora's portrait.
"As you can see, although she was a woman, Theodora was unyielding and domineering when she was in power. She was the best in the Secret Intelligence Department."
Norb took the opportunity to explain.
"Starting from her, the Kingdom's Secret Intelligence Department spread its spies all over the world. They are ruthless, radical, and vengeful."
"If necessary, she wouldn't hesitate to sign the much-criticized foreign assassination mission, even if it might trigger a war."
Assassination outside the border.
Thales was stunned.
He remembered what King Nuven had told him that night about the fate of his eldest son.
"But it was said that during those years, the Secret Room dreamed of crossing the Great Pine Forest in the south, and Kuntana did not dare to cross the Sea of Eradication. Even though they hated the Secret Intelligence Department to the core, no one dared to touch even a single hair on the spies of the Secret Intelligence Department."
Norb stared at the special Princess of Constellation. He did not hide the admiration and longing in his eyes.
Thales exhaled.
'Damn the Secret Intelligence Department.
In this place, how much history had not been written in the history books?
"Oh, I'm afraid we'll have to watch the next three together."
Norb leaned on his crutch with great interest, as if he was still getting used to his new third leg.
He pointed at another painting to Thales. In the painting was a tall, handsome, and handsome man.
[Noah C. P. Amund, 434-462]
"'Lone Sail', Noah Amund.
"Rumor has it that he was one of the lovers of the 'Conqueror of the North', Queen Erica."
'The queen's lover …
'So.
'This is the queen's man?'
Norb lowered his head and blinked. His previous solemnity was gone.
"Of course, some people said that the Conqueror of the North liked to chase after women. There was no one in her court that the queen had not slept with, regardless of gender."
When he heard the gossip, Thales looked at the handsome Noah differently.
From afar, the Noah in the painting had a fit body and a handsome face. He was indeed outstanding and the best choice.
Norb shook his head.
"Unfortunately, as Queen Erica fell from power, Lone Sail was sent to the guillotine by his deputy cum successor."
"Deputy? By his own deputy? "
Thales frowned and thought of My Home Tavern in Blade Fangs Camp and its thought-provoking slogan.
Norb nodded and sighed.
"Indeed, not every pair of partners can work together as happily and seamlessly as Leinster and Halva."
He looked at the next painting.
"And this is Lone Sail's deputy."
There was a hint of reverence in Norb's words.
"The Pale Baron, Sancho."
Thales looked up and saw a man with a pale face but a pair of deep eyes in the painting.
Sancho's face was not bad, his posture was elegant, and his fingers were slender as they plucked the strings. He looked like a scholar.
He was not the Chief of Intelligence of the Underground World.
[Sancho D. D. Doyle, 438-489]
Thales was stunned when he saw the surname.
"Doyle? His surname is Doyle? "
Norb was puzzled.
"Yes, what's wrong?"
'The Pale Baron, Doyle.'
"Nothing." Thales shook his head and thought of 'Wise Minister' Karabeyan.
"That is, whenever you put these nouns together …"
Thales tried his best to chase the image of the other sloppy personal guard and his equally eccentric father out of his mind. He sighed with emotion.
He sighed and said, "It always makes people wonder, 'Oh, history, what have you done to them?'
"Please continue."
Norb was a little puzzled, but he still continued.
"Sancho was once the head of the ruthless officials under the Red King, John the Second. He was at the top of the powerful officials, and his hands were stained with blood.
"The Secret Intelligence Department was just an intelligence agency before him, but in his hands, it became a terrifying monster that combined supervision, control, judgment, law enforcement, violence, propaganda, censorship, and stability maintenance."
Norb spoke in a cadence, as if he was telling a ghost story.
"As the most powerful Chief of Intelligence in history, he spread the Red King's anger and tyranny to his heart's content. He did whatever he wanted, and his power was so great that it was difficult to control him. He ended the historical legacy of countless noble families."
Thales frowned and looked at this different Doyle again. He was noble and elegant, and did not look like an executioner with a heavy debt of blood.
Norb's tone became urgent, as if he saw the bloodshed of those years.
"Until the Pale Baron also died in the hands of his deputy and successor, 'Black Messenger' Mason Jonveled."
Thales raised his eyebrows.
'Died again by the deputy.'
He followed Norb's gaze and saw a third person.
[Mason H. A. Jonveled, 443-506]
This person stood alone in the darkness. His eyes were gloomy, and his face was not bad, but he appeared harsh and merciless, like a beast choosing its prey in a corner.
If one only looked at the portrait, Lone Sail Amund was a righteous and heroic young man, the Pale Baron Doyle was a gentle scholar who admired himself, and the Black Messenger Jonveled …
There was no doubt that his gloomy and terrifying temperament made him look like a villain.
Norb's voice traveled into his ears.
"The Black Messenger betrayed his master for glory, and after killing Sancho, he failed to defect. He was fortunate enough to receive the first execution order issued by 'Virtuous King' Mindis the Third after he succeeded to the throne: to spend the rest of his life in the Prison of Bones."
Thales exhaled deeply.
"In that case, from the time of the Conqueror of the North to the Red King, the three Chief of Intelligence of the Secret Intelligence Department all died from internal troubles and did not have a good ending."
'Why, is backstabbing popular in the kingdom's Secret Intelligence Department?'
As if sensing the duke's sentiments, Norb said slowly,
"During that time, the kingdom was in chaos."
Thales nodded.
"A little gossip." Perhaps to liven up the atmosphere, Norb lowered his voice and smiled faintly.
"It is said that these three Chief of Intelligence slept with Queen Erica, or rather, were slept with by the queen."
'Slept with by the queen.'
Thales raised his eyebrows and swept his gaze over the portraits of Lone Sail, the Pale Baron, and the Black Messenger. He suddenly realized that they were either heroic, gentle, or gloomy, but they were all men in their prime with their own unique characteristics.
'Alright.
'Taking advantage of her position … This queen really knows how to enjoy life.'
"As expected, it's very chaotic." Thales blinked.
"In every sense of the word."
At that moment …
"Enough."
They turned around in unison and found Raphael standing behind them with a displeased expression.
He stared at Norb gloomily, then looked at the prince reproachfully.
"I said, do not move around."
The Barren Bone man said coldly,
"Especially with strangers."
Thales glanced at Norb, and the latter lowered his head apologetically.
The Duke of Star Lake twitched his lips.
"I'm sorry, I thought …"
Thales glanced at the room behind Raphael.
"It's not that fast to wipe your ass."
Raphael's and Thales' gazes met in the air, and they exchanged a series of blows through the air.
Norb observed their expressions and walked forward at the right time to greet them.
"Raphael."
Raphael seemed to have just noticed the man with the crutch as she replied coldly, "I'm not sure.
He replied coldly, "Norb."
For some reason, Thales felt that the relationship between the two of them was a little stiff.
Norb smiled faintly.
"So, I heard that there is a sudden major case involving a Western Desert noble?"
Raphael nodded. There was a faint sense of alienation in his words.
"Yes."
Norb nodded in understanding. He looked into Raphael's red eyes.
"Alright, although it's not my case, if you need help —"
Raphael cut him off bluntly.
"If I need help."
When he saw that Raphael did not want to speak further, Norb stopped talking to him and turned to Thales.
"I have not had the time to thank you, Your Highness," Norb said respectfully.
"If you do me the honor, I would like to visit you later —"
"His Highness still has matters to attend to." Raphael suddenly stood in front of Thales and warned him.
"And he came in private."
Norb shut his mouth indifferently.
"Of course." He looked at Raphael, who refused to budge an inch, and nodded dejectedly.
"Of course."
Norb bowed to Thales again and limped away with the cane that he was not familiar with.
His figure was lonely and a little pitiful.
Thales could not bear to see it.
"What did Norb do?"
Thales suddenly asked after Norb left.
Raphael frowned.
"What?"
Thales caught up with the Barren Bone man.
"What did he do wrong in the Bloody Year that he was sent to Western Desert, which is tantamount to an exile?"
Raphael's expression tensed.
"You will have to ask him himself, or His Lordship."
"Really? Thales observed Raphael's expression and snorted.
"If you want to come to the Secret Intelligence Department for a day, Your Highness," Raphael said unhappily.
"I can totally satisfy your needs."
"Why? Are you jealous that I'm so popular?" Thales was happy to see Raphael's displeasure.
Raphael snorted softly and continued walking.
"Alright, so, Tour Guide Raphael, who is this?"
Thales pointed casually.
Raphael glanced at it.
"Lisandro Esposito, no nickname."
Or rather, there were too many nicknames, so he simply did not want to use them.
Thales moved closer to the portrait. It was a middle-aged man with a humble smile, a kind and humble expression.
[Lisandro Esposito, 530 – 602]
[When you know your mistake, you are right.]
"He was born in the year the Virtuous King passed away. As the son of a lowly cobbler, he changed his fate by passing a literacy test. In the end, he became the Chief of Intelligence of the 'Silent One' Sumer the Fourth and attended the Imperial Conference."
Raphael moved forward steadily, not caring that Thales was left behind.
"Since him, the Kingdom's Secret Intelligence Department has swept away its old traditions. It is no longer the king's private toy, but an important national intelligence department with clear rights and responsibilities, efficient operations, adequate budget, and a clear position. Little by little, step by step, we have taken back the disadvantages we have faced against the Secret Room over the past hundred years.
"Hence the Secret Intelligence Department today."
Raphael's tone was respectful.
Thales had to speed up to keep up with Raphael's inconsiderate pace.
"And he is also Lord Morat Hansen's teacher."
Raphael walked out of the corridor and came in front of a specially-shaped iron door. Similarly, he swiped at the air with his finger, opened the magic lock in the ripples in the air, and turned into a dark inner room.
"You mean the Black Prophet?"
Thales quickly caught up and walked into the inner room.
"His teacher?"
But the moment he stepped into the room, Thales suddenly felt a pang of panic!
The Sin of Hell's River stirred restlessly, but it was different from any previous danger. This feeling was illusory, but it made his hair stand on end.
"Hiss, hiss, hiss …" A faint hissing sound rang in his ears, reminiscent of a slithering snake.
Fortunately, this feeling was fleeting, as if it had been there.
If it had been any shorter, Thales would have even thought it was an illusion.
'What's going on?'
Thales adapted to the darkness of the inner room and followed Raphael's footsteps with trepidation.
"You know, we usually don't mention this nickname, Your Highness."
The Barren Bone man's tone became cautious.
"Especially in the Secret Intelligence Department."
"Why?" Under the dim light, they walked more than ten meters forward. Thales was still immersed in the fear he felt just now. He subconsciously asked, "What's wrong?
He subconsciously asked, "Why not?"
In the next second, a hoarse voice that he had not heard for six years rang out in the darkness.
"Just like how we usually don't mention 'Star Under Your Skirt' in front of you.
"Your Highness Thales."
'This is …'
Hearing this voice, the prince stopped in his tracks. He did not even have time to understand the ridicule in the other party's words.
The feeling of panic attacked him again, even more so than before.
The Sin of Hell's River was restless.
Raphael stopped a few steps in front of him and turned around.
Revealing the person behind him.
Thales' eyes widened.
He had expected this to happen, but …
"Lord Hansen." Thales stared at the thin black figure in front of him.
"Long time no see."
In front of him was King Kessel's current Chief of Intelligence, the head of the Secret Intelligence Department, the Black Prophet, Lord Morat Hansen, who had been out of sight for many years. He was sitting in a dark wheelchair facing him.
The old man in front of him panted painfully while raising his repulsive face, which was only skin and bones, and gave Thales a frightening smile.
Thales looked at Morat in surprise.
'How …'
He remembered six years ago, although the Black Prophet was old, he was hale and hearty, imposing, and could still threaten Gilbert and Jines with a cane.
But now …
Thales stared at the wheelchair under the other party.
'Why does he look like he's about to die?'
But Thales soon realized that something was wrong.
"Hiss … Hiss …"
Hell's senses fed him countless hair-raising hissing sounds, which came from the dark and colorless' wheelchair '.
The Sin of Hell's River spread to Thales' eyes, allowing him to see the dark room clearly.
Thales instinctively looked down and saw that the Black Prophet's wheelchair was "wrapped" in countless sticky, moist black veins, like muscle veins, which also wrapped around Morat's legs.
It even squirmed, contracted, and breathed from time to time.
'That's not a wheelchair.'
At that moment, Thales' hair really stood on end.
'That's a … living thing.
Like branches, vines, tentacles.
Its back extended to the walls of the room, covering half of the room like vines, all the way to the ceiling.
And Morat, sitting in the 'wheelchair', seemed to have 'grown' out of these vines.
Thales breathed blankly and suddenly thought of the Blood Mystic.
'This is …'
"Don't be afraid," Morat breathed with difficulty, raised his skinny arm, and connected it to the thousands of black veined vines that were squirming like thousands of snakes.
"Some necessary means, like taking medicine to cure a disease."
Raphael stood by the side, his expression unchanged.
'Taking medicine to cure a disease?'
It took Thales a few seconds to calm down.
"Your Grace, wh-what's wrong with you?"
Morat laughed, causing the black-veined vines around him to sway.
"I'm old.
"Your Grace," The Black Prophet's voice was a little ethereal, but it still chilled one's heart, "Time has caught me.
"Just like how it captured Teacher Lisandro and King Aydi."
"Just like it will eventually catch everyone."
The Black Prophet's gaze froze, revealing a yearning look.
"Of course, except for the elves."
Thales breathed in a daze. At that moment, he did not know how he should face the monster-like man.
"I believe you have seen, Your Highness, the Kingdom's Secret Intelligence Department has gone through 57 Chief Stewards," Morat came back to his senses.
"They are all closely related to Constellation, sharing honor and disgrace.
"Inseparable.
"We are not your enemy, Thales," Morat looked at the disgusting living thing wrapped around half of his body, and called out the duke's name.
"In fact, we are struggling just like you."
Thales stared at the black-veined vines and felt his eyebrows twitch.
The Black Prophet raised his hand and did something. The black-veined vines that covered half of his body trembled and broke away from the back of his "wheelchair", "releasing" Morat.
"Hiss …" The sound of the vines contracting made one shudder.
Only the part that was still wrapped around the wheelchair was still moving back and forth, like maggots surging and pupae twitching.
Watching this scene, Thales felt a little uncomfortable in his abdomen.
Morat closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths before opening them weakly and nodding at Raphael.
"Let's begin."
The Barren Bone man bowed his head respectfully, turned to open another door, and disappeared into the darkness behind it.
Seeing Raphael leave, Thales suddenly realized that only he, the Black Prophet, and … those black "things" were left in the room.
This thought made him uneasy.
"Mind giving me a push, Your Highness?"
Morat stretched out his skinny hand towards Thales, opened his deformed mouth, and smiled like a dead man in a coffin.
"Don't worry, I won't read your mind this time."
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