Vol 2 Chapter 490: Position

Chapter 490
"Tell me, child, so many orcs in the world... cough... cough..."
Uncle's voice accompanied by a heavy cough, and even the hooves of the guards on both sides could not cover it.
"... which one is the most dangerous?"
He came back and lifted his gaze from the dirt under the horseshoe:
"The kind of death."
He was so eager to ride on the horse, and his uncle’s carriage had a full body.
"Yes, the kind of dying." Uncle's weak voice suddenly seemed to inject new vitality.
Like the uncle who once grown up, he pointed to the mountains and squandered Fang.
"Just like the scorpion's poison needle is hidden behind the tail, the poisonous tooth's fangs are buried deep, and the dangerous quicksand is hidden underground."
At that time, the uncle's back was majestic and tall, his arms were powerful, and his voice was heavy and thick.
When he read this, he whispered, and he rushed to the whip. He quickly took a few steps and came to the carriage.
But the uncle is like a desert after the storm, and the voice after the boost returns to a decadent hoarseness:
"So, which kind of orc is the safest?"
He answered slowly and unhurriedly:
"The kind that died."
"No, that is the old Mann bachelor who taught you," said the uncle, "The dead beast is a good orc."
"But I want to say, Cyril, the safest orc..."
"It's also the kind of death."
He stumbled.
The uncle's weak voice sank as the horse progressed:
"Because they are like the arrows at the end of a strong battle, the tail of a horrible sandstorm, the flames of burning oil."
"The momentum is huge, but there is no stamina."
He clipped his belly and frowned:
"This murmur... Old man, you shouldn’t be revival last night, and you have a female sacrifice at the Temple of the Night."
"Or worse... male sacrifice?"
Uncle's voice was quiet for a moment, only to hear the hooves of the guards.
After a few seconds.
"Ok."
Uncle is helpless in the cough:
"Maybe that's why I like you."
Listening to the uncle's worse cough than last week, his heart sank and screamed:

‘Like me’ – if this is your last words, the old man.

"I have to say that it is inferior."
He pretended to blew a whistle easily:
"Let all those who hear this say that you are an old pervert who likes to play with relatives."
Uncle was silent for a while.
The guards on both sides continued to walk side by side in a diligent manner, and they did not move, as if they had not heard their conversation.
After a long time, my uncle’s helpless and weak voice was able to sound:
"...the dead orcs are both dangerous and safe, so why do the ridiculous people say that there is no disaster or innocence in the desert? Because the disaster and the shackles change between the thoughts."
"So we must always be on guard."
He reluctantly scratched his ears.
Uncle's words are still going on, the more serious:
"The kings of the blade leader seem to be self-disciplined, but in fact the nature is difficult to move."

The fat merchants in the East China Sea have a wide range of friendly and friendly, but they are used to seeing the wind rudder crossing the river to remove the bridge.

"The cliffs are pretending to be self-confident, neutral and selfless, but they are just stinky mice that are in the mountains."
"As for the unruly old quail egg on the South Bank, hey, it is more conservative than the female sacrifice that went out of bed."
"For you, they can't rely on it."
Uncle's voice is low.
Silently listening to him for a while, this suddenly said:
"Old man, you..."

Is it really a female sacrifice?

There was a lot of slamming in the carriage!
"you--"
It seems that the uncle was once again smashed, and even the breathing was disordered.
He gave a smile from the corner of his lips.
In the end, the uncle suppressed the anger and sighed:
"Oh, forget it... In contrast, the old Dylan in the North is tenacious and self-improving. What is even more rare is that the eagle owls he has raised are all promising, brothers are united, and the family is united..."
He was tight inside, for fear that it would provoke the uncle's sadness.
Fortunately, my uncle scorned the past:
"Unfortunately, their position is really bad. Once they change, they are the first to bear the brunt. It is difficult to help."
Feeling dull, he no longer thinks more, but raises his head and looks at the growing vegetation on both sides of the Grace Avenue:

You seem to have missed the most important one?

Uncle's breath.
The convoy turned a big bend, and several of the peasant peasants on the side of the road huddled up and waited for the passing of the four-headed skull flag.
After a long while, the uncle’s weak voice rang again, with the sorrow and resentment of the years:
"The stars outside the sky... high above."
"You can only look far, don't think about it."
"More can't trust."
He felt a deep chill from his uncle's tone.
"Remember."
"Can't trust."
Uncle's words turned into a thick and ominous cough.
He did not speak.
After a few seconds, he released the palm of his hand that was snapping the reins.
In the cough of his uncle's discomfort, he took a deep breath and forced himself to smile:
"Listen to what you said, we should be a maverick."

I don’t know where I am, how do people see people?

Uncle's cough stopped, but did not speak immediately, only the sound of horseshoes and wheels.
Finally, there was a long sigh in the carriage:
"That's not exactly what it means to be in the West?"
There is helplessness and relief.
More deserving.
The Duke of Falkenhaus opened his eyes.
And in front of his eyes, another prince named after the comet was staring nervously at him.
Can't trust.
Falkenhauser snorted in the bottom of his heart.
Taylor's arm was stiff behind him, and he held the dagger in the quilt.
The teenager penetrated the West Duke's eyes like a laughing and laughing, and seemed to see another bloody, empty-eyed dead man's head.
That is the head of the drill.
The second prince took a deep breath.
and many more.
If Falkenhaus is behind the scenes of Haiman’s black hand...
Why did he tell me this time?
In the face of another comet, what is his interest?
Is it the first to win people, or is it a precursor to turning your face, or is it another purpose?
As usual, Tyres deliberately expressed the horror of the satisfaction of the other side, while starting to think about the relationship.
From the time of the deaf to the prince's career, this trick is quite useful for guys like Quaid and Nicholas who are not self-righteous, even for the nuisance Ian and the sorcerer Monty. Wonderful effect:
They can always gain the superiority of superiority and wisdom in the flustered performance of Tells, thus exposing the biggest flaws in contempt and satisfaction.
After many ups and downs, this is already the most skilled instinct of Tells.
Familiar with him, he even has some unclear: when is the gaffe is true and when is it deliberately played.
But this trick occasionally has a time to fail.
For example, facing the Chaman King in the carriage.
such as……
just now.
"Why, is it too comfortable in the Northland? Is this scary?"
The words of the West Duke’s playful words sounded again. He stared at the seemingly scared Taylors and seemed to be somewhat dissatisfied:
"How about this?"
Which?
When Tyres had not had time to think too much, he saw Cyril reach out and took his crutches...
That long sword.
The prince is a spirit.
"Hey!"
As the sound of metal and leather rubbed, the blade was squirted and a silver light was drawn in the air!
bad!
The sin of the prison river is overwhelming, and Tyres instinctively falls from the bed and rolls on the spot!
What kind of joke?
He got up and bent his knees at a safe distance away from the silver light, and his daggers crossed and ironed.
Tyres was stunned and looked at Cyril Falkenhaus, who was still sitting comfortably in his chair.
The long-handled sword that was sheathed soon was held in the palm of the duke, and as the duke's wrist turned lightly, the arc was slowly drawn.
The chill is full and the momentum is sensational.
There is a looming desire.
"Good, at least you are not as embarrassed as it seems."
Cyril smiled sullenly, ignoring the prince's pale face.
What are you doing?
Tyres looked at Cyril incredulously.
This is... turned face?
But what makes Taylors care is another thing:
Yodell, who was hidden in the dark, was still quiet, and he was unresponsive when he saw him in danger.
what happened?
That guy won't really be angry because of the thing just now?
What kind of bad?
But when Tyres was thinking about the way out, the familiar hoarse voice was still ringing in his ear.
"calm."
The voice of the mask guard is illusory, like a mosquito, but the tension of Tyres’s breath is loosened:
"not him."
not him.
The familiar voice left a heart of Tells back into his chest.
not him.
But at that moment, watching Cyril's unreasonable smile, Tyres seemed to have grasped something.
Here is the blade tooth camp, the direct territory of the royal family, stationed with a considerable number of standing army.
The wing of the legend is on the side, and King Kaiser is behind.
Self-supporting blame, threatening the prince - in any case, Falkenhaus should not do this.
The prince who interrupted his thoughts because of the fighting stance made several deep breaths and forced himself to think from the beginning.
Then why...
why……
not him.
After Yodel’s reminder, it seems that Tyres’s opening is what he thought, but he did not dare to relax his fighting posture for a moment:
"Are you a murderer?"
Cyril fixedly stared at him, his sword in his hand was extremely stable, and his eyes were full of splendor.
Finally, in the tense confrontation, the Duke of the West West smiled and shook his head:
"It seems you don't know."
Under the sullen expression of Tyres, Cyril's cold smile faded away.
The duke crossed the long-handled sword to his knees and slowly played, no longer looking at Taylors.
I do not know?
Tyles, who didn’t understand, took a deep breath and spit out slowly.
"You said, you put the assassin in front of Prince Hayman..."
The prince gritted his teeth and asked:
"but why……"
Falkenhaus didn't go back, just looking at the beautiful long-handled sword on his knee.
"Because that is his wish."
The question of Tyres stopped short.
His wishes?
This time, without waiting for Tyres to start asking, the Duke of Cyril replied softly, his voice was erratic, and his emotions were complicated:
"It is he who is looking for them."
"Find those assassins - Shadow Shield."
Taylors stunned.
but.
but……
Hayman?
There is also a shadow shield?
Tyles understood the words of the Duke and immediately widened his eyes.
"18 years ago," Cyril faintly said:

Hayman found me and asked me to do my best to help him, to help him avoid the guards who were from the Royal Guard and the Stars, and to complete his private meeting with some strange ‘guests’.

"More than once."
Avoid the guards.
Unfamiliar guests.
The cold wind slid into the room, and the leather robes of the Duke of the Western Descent were so trembled that the gray hair was light.
The wind brings more endless flying dust, and in the sunlight, the real body that people don't often notice is displayed. The countless particles flying back and forth are rolling in the air strangely.
Cyril’s pair of scorpions are still spinning, seemingly shining:
"Until... the last time."
the last time.
Somehow, Tyres suddenly felt that his back was cold.
"The Shadow Shield, avoiding the eyes and ears of the royal family, meeting, so..."
Unbelievable Tyres put down the dagger and straightened his waist.
He moved his lips hard:
"The year of blood... is he doing it?"
"Hayman?"
On the top floor of the Ghost Prince Tower, the narrow room was quiet.
I can only hear the faint noisy under the window.
And the fierce cold wind that is too high.
But the prince only felt that he had fallen into a deep fog.
And he is getting closer to the truth behind the fog.
In the dungeon, Semir’s hateful words came to his mind:
[Is there a good sac of a good sac, but a narrow-minded, sinister and sinister ‘beauty’ Hayman? 】
Is it a son or a brother? 】
The fourth prince, Hayman Comet?
Cyril did not answer.
But Tyres only shook his head for a few seconds, and immediately shook his head, and countless mysteries rushed to the ground:
"But why... why?"
"If he is the comet behind the scenes..."
"Why is the Shadow Shield killing him?"
This does not make sense.
He screamed at the death of Fakenhaus.
The duke closed his eyes gently, whirls open, arms folded against his knees, and his body leaned forward.
He converges his expression and looks at Tyres sideways, revealing a faint but horrible laugh:
"I also want to know."
A glimpse of Tyres:
"You do not know?"
Cyril chuckled and didn't seem to care:
"Do not."
"Maybe he is just too stupid, black and black."
"Maybe he was a victim and was destined to betray."
"Maybe he is just an insider, but he is finally escaping."
"Even maybe he just didn't want to get involved and wanted to turn the tide."
Cyril bowed his head and his lips were slightly tilted. I don’t know if it was irony or ridiculous:
"But... he didn't want me to know."
he does not know.
Tyres is not satisfied with this answer.
He took a deep breath, stepped forward, and sat back on the bed, facing the Duke.
"really?"
"He asked you to help a person who didn't let you know the truth, and you agreed? Don't even ask?"
Tyres cold and cold:
"You are too generous."
Cyril turned his head slowly.
It may be an illusion, but Taylors suddenly felt that the ugly face of the Duke of Falkenhaus was soothing a lot.
"I believe it or not, child."
Cyril’s eyes suddenly became very serious, and his collapsing lips and teeth in the sun:
"Hayman is one of my few friends - at least, compared to his brothers who are full of conspiracy, killing, money and women."
"He spoke up, so I helped, it was as simple as that."
Taylors raised his brow deeply.
Full of conspiracy, killing, money and women's brothers...
Cyril observed the expression of Tyres and shook his head.
But the prince's next sentence made his expression change.
"Is this related to Prince Horace?"
Taylors stretched his brows, but the dignity in his eyes could not be added:
"The reason why Hayman went to find the shadow shield, but ultimately died in his hand?"
At that moment, the expression of Falkenhauser solidified.
Horace.
He stared at Tyres, still ugly, but no longer had the meaning of laughter.
"Why do you ask?"
Tyres breathed a sigh of relief and answered him with another question:
"And you, why, after 18 years, in the place where Heyman died, tell me this?"
Cyril watched Tyres for a long time.
Finally, the duke’s elbows left his knees and the whole man straightened up in his chair.
To Taylor's expectation, Cyril, who seems to be serious, did not respond to his question, but raised his long-handled sword on his knees and looked up and down.
"Have you seen such a sword, Your Royal Highness?"
Cyril seems to have come out of the memories of the year and regained a scary and comfortable smile.
Taylors couldn’t help.
He noticed that the Duke’s long-handled sword was unique in shape, and the bronze hand guards and hilts were extraordinarily slender and did not seem to fit the ideal force structure, but they were exquisite and rigorous, and the two sides of the sword extended out of the dunes. The smooth arc gives a sense of aesthetic comfort.
The center of the sword is inlaid with a pure black gem, I don't know what kind of class.
I saw that Cyril did not lift his head, but he admired this beautiful sword from his own feet:
"The ancient empire sword, or the ancient knight sword - special style and curvature, amazing balance, swaying more handy, dancing more fluent and powerful."
"It needs good raw materials and superb forging skills, of course, there are expensive cost prices - I guess, this is why they are destined to be mass-produced, and eventually disappeared on the battlefield, leaving only a few to become a heirloom. Treasures."
Cyril turned the sword and let Taylor see the bottom of the hilt.
It was a strange ancient imprinted alphabet that Tyres almost did not recognize:
F.
The engraving of this letter looks rougher and less coordinated than the other delicate parts of the sword.
Ancient Empire sword? Ancient knight sword?
and many more.
Taylors moved his eyebrows.
Such a curvature...
It is quite familiar.
"I have seen it, one." In the mind of Tyres, Ricky’s sword with a silver-handled sword of the same curvature was born.
"But what does it do with me, with Heyman, what does it have to do with Horace?"
Tyres asked in a vigilant manner, while sitting quietly at some time, to ensure that the legs touched the ground.
Cyril continues to admire perhaps the heirloom of the Falkenhaus family, screaming:
"It is said that the first group of ancient imperial swords were made by dwarves, and the elves were cast, and the flames of the earth were used as fires to gather the essence of the seven seas. They were dedicated to the first emperor of this world, and created the 'Great Emperor' of Comoros. · Carlos."
Tyres's thoughts are slightly stagnation.
Cyril looked up and sneered:
"Yes, I am talking about your ancestors, the legendary blood gold will shine."
Taylors subconsciously opens:
"but you--"
Cyril seems to have made up his mind not to allow him to interrupt himself and return to his long-handed sword:
"This sword name calls the 'warner', who participated in the final battle with Tiberium Falkenhaus six hundred years ago. He is the sword teacher of Tomon I when he was young, and he is also the most senior of the renaissance. The old follower until he was sealed to the ruins, became the prince of the early Western Guardian and my ancestors."
Alerter.
Tomond I.
The end of the battle.
Tyres is a little impatient:
"I will have time to listen to your family history, but let us first -"
"And the alerter last served!" Cyril's volume suddenly increased, overshadowing the voice of Tyres.
I saw the Duke of the Western Wild, blinking slightly, looking at the frowning Taylor:
"It is in the hands of another Cyril Falkenhaus."
"He is my great-grandfather, serving in the Royal Guard of the "silent" Su Mei IV. In the crisis of the collapse of the king, he is holding this sword and killing the bleeding road with the guard, thus protecting the young. Eddie II successfully landed on the throne, and the king was on the stars."
Cyril said, the long-handled sword in his hand shook a sword flower, skillful, and steady with the sword, but let Taylors, who always thought that the Duke of Falkenhaus was inconvenient, looked at each other.
and many more.
Tyres has changed!
From what he had just said, what he caught.
Another Cyril Falkenhaus.
Royal Guard?
"The silent person" Su Mei IV.
The king drove down.
And... Eddie II?
Tyres stared at the "warner".
Before waiting for his clue, Cyril sighed:
"Fackenhaus, this surname is as old as Aaron, from the age of the Empire, and follows the comet family, stretching to this day."
The duke stared at his ancient empire sword:
"From the end of the battle to the year, it is like this warning person - we witness too much and understand too much."
In the eyes of the Duke of the West, there is a strange light:
"Either the rise and fall of the Star Kingdom..."
"Or is it the royal family's..."
Falkenhauser untied the scabbard on the cane and squinted at the snail, which seemed to have a deep meaning:
"The wind and the rain."
Cyril slowly exhaled a breath and took the "warner" back to the scabbard.

In comparison, is the answer you want important?

Tyres raised his eyebrows.
Reminiscent of the observations of these days, the prince suddenly had some conjecture.
"Edie II, my grandfather."
"I have heard that he is the longest child in the children who have not died before the Soviet Union, and he is still a man."
Tyres slowly opened:
"I think, he will continue to be crowned, should it be smooth?"
He narrowed his eyes:
"Where did you come from the ‘hurricane and rain?’
The Duke of the Western Expedition put away the expression of the nostalgia and smiled slowly.
He turned his head and stared at Tells with a burning look:
"That may be, your history teacher has not mentioned your grandfather's stepmother, the 'Witch' of the Iris family, and her little aunt who is the Duchess of the Blade, your grandfather's aunt, the former Princess Helena. ""
The family of irises, "Witches".
Duchess Blade, Princess Helena.
Listening to these strange names, Taylor's brain turned.
"Not to mention how they made a conspiracy after the death of Su Mei IV, and wanted to send your underage grandfather to the Temple of the Sun for a lifetime sacrifice, so that the Queen of Jura, the comet of John. In the younger generation, the squat is king."
The eyes of Taylors are expanding!
John Comet.
Conspiracy is overkill.
Taylor couldn't help but pinch the dagger.
The daughter of the Queen of Gala.
It is long in childhood.
Cyril put down his sword, and he is victorious:
"Of course, if the Queen of Gala is successful more than 60 years ago, you and I will not have to worry about it here."
If the Queen of Gala is successful...
You don't have to worry about it here...
Damn old guy.
Tyres took a deep breath and calmed his heart.
"Enough, Duke of Falkenhaus."
"From now until now..."
Taylor's face sank.
"What the are you suggesting?"
This time, the second prince was firmly staring at the Duke of the West, and his attitude was not good:
"I was the younger brother of Wang, the Duke of Xinghu, who had the opportunity to cross my grandfather and climb to the supreme throne of the stars?"
Falkenhauser curled up his mouth.
"Is the Kevin Dill family of irises who tried to intervene in the throne?"
Cyril’s smile is still unabated.
"And the prince of the prince of Helena, the Duke of the Blades, which was all over the 18 years ago, is also involved?"
Looking at Cyril, it’s not too slow, it’s like a sly expression, and Tyres clenches his teeth:
"Or is it suggesting that in the year, it is indeed a prince of my grandfather, who also wants to be younger..."
"What is the king?"
This chapter has written a few versions is still not satisfied, first push the plot forward, and then come back later.
(End of this chapter)