Vol 2 Chapter 491: Do something

Chapter 491, what to do
The history of the stars has never been lack of blood.
Gilbert’s words re-emerged in the mind of the teenager.
"You over-interpreted my words, Your Highness."
Cyril smiled and reached for the size of a fist from the plate. The red fruit that Taylor couldn’t recognize was wiped on the sleeve:
"I mean, as the oldest vassal of the comet, Falkenhaus has seen too many similar dramas in the blade of the warnings: from the first day to the last day."
"We are all numb."
The voice of the Duke of the West was dropped. He ignored the eyes of Tyre's suspicious eyes and took a bite of the fruit in his hand.
But Tyres looked at him with vigilance:
"Is it?"
Cyril's cheeks shook and looked particularly enjoyable, but his dry face and scary face only made this movement look even more horrifying.
"Similarly, the truth about the Year of Blood is no longer important - just like today, sixty years later, will anyone care about the coronation crisis of your grandfather?"
Cyril leaned back, and the eye-catching eyes like a snake snake clasped Tyres.
He is vague and authentic:
"What's really important is what the Scarlet Year brought us, and how do we face it?"
Thales opened his eyes and tried not to look at the process of turning the flesh in the mouth of Cyrill's mouth from solid to small pieces and then into powder.
The prince is serious:
"I don't like to make a mystery."
"I don't like to bend around."
Cyril swallowed a flesh and snorted.
He supported the arm with his left elbow, and the whole person leaned back, his eyes changed suddenly, and he was aggressive:
"That might not be suitable for being a comet."
Tyres slowly turned his head and looked at him.
Cyril still maintains a half-truthful gaze, and the prince's expression is quiet.
The two looked at each other silently.
There is a sense of incomprehension in the air.
A few seconds later, Tyres’ head was slightly low, staring at the Duke in a strange angle, and his voice was low:
"My father knows, right?"
Falkenhauser stagmed his right hand with half a piece of fruit.
The fine man in his eyes slowly recovered.
Taylors took a breath and said:
"Whether it was you who helped Hayman in the past, or the shield of his ulterior mob, even what happened that night."
"He knows."
The prince used a positive sentence.
The curvature of Cyril's mouth slowly disappeared.
"He knows how," the Duke bite slowly, like the pace of approaching the prey:
"I don't know how?"
Tyres breathed a sigh of relief.
He understood.
"You just throw the secrets one by one - from Hayman to Shadow Shield."
Taylors looked up and determined and decided:
"It’s for temptation, to test how much I know, and to test how much my father told me."
Cyril did not speak.
But at that moment, he looked at the prince's eyes more sharply.
"And why do you do this..."
Taylors didn't say anything more, just staring at the Duke.
It is to test the trust of King Kaiser in his own heirs.
To test the foundation of the comet's royal family.
For a long while, Cyril smiled and leaned over and pointed to Tyres:
"As I said, we started talking."
The face of Tyres became more and more dignified.
The teenager bowed his head and followed the words of the Duke:
"So, as you say."
"Abandoning the details and the truth... What did the Scarlet Year bring to us?"
Cyril smiled.
Instead of answering the question of Tyres directly, he overtook his head and took another bite of the fruit in his hand.
"I heard that Baron Williams first found you, His Royal Highness."
He chewed and muttered:
"What do you think of him?"
Tyres frowned.
Williams?
How do you see him?
The first thought of Tyres was the scene where the other surrounded him on the saddle.
The young man shook a little and tried to drive the other person's own riding scene out of the brain.
"The baron is a..."
But he opened his mouth and suddenly said something.
The Duke of the West was not busy, waiting for his return with great interest.
In front of the eyes of Taylors, there are Roman eyes full of murderous eyes, and the face of the stranger who is not close when he "kills you again"...
The prince was in his heart.
How do you deliberately praise one...one who can't find the advantage?
When the gods are on the top, can't you praise the other person's "cute"?
The prince coughed and tried not to change his expression too much:
"I think he is very good... cough... that, the leader is good, the command is OK, then..."
Tersca is on the next adjective.
Cyril didn't look at him, just snoring and not arguing.
What strangled the thoughts of Tyres, and quickly added:
"There are... the amount, the skill is outstanding, the instrument is extraordinary?"
Despaired by the gods, finally found the advantages.
Cyril nodded and turned back to spit out the core of his mouth.
He pulled the face of the monk, twitching a large piece of lips, blinking.
"Well, I have to admit..."
Although slowly getting used to the Duke's respect, but Taylors is still seen in this eye.
Cyril sneered:
"Williams, that guy looks better than me..."
He raised his right hand with a smile, his thumb and forefinger were close, and the pits and gullies on his face were like flooding:
"A little bit."
Looking at Cyril's special respect, Teres tried to hold back:
"Oh, is that..."
Cyril looked at him and finally couldn't help but laugh.
The duke smiled and reached out again, and took the second fruit out of the plate.
"Speak straight, everyone who has dealt with him knows well."
Cyril looked at Tells in detail, and the chill of his face was oozing:
"Roman Williams."
Cyril’s eyes flashed cold:
"That is a lonely, indifferent, arrogant, arrogant..."
"shameless bastard."
shameless bastard?
Tyres resisted the urge to nod and kept his expression slightly frowned.
But Cyril seems to have ignored his reaction.
The Duke of the Western Expedition squinted out of the window:
"Admit it, the first time you enlisted in the year, he is more annoying than the ignorant bear child. It is more unpleasant than the arrogant bully. It is more taboo than the ruthless hooligans. The tax collectors are even more hated than others, and the tyrant who is only my own is more resentful."
Tyres took a deep breath and couldn't help but think of the look of the legendary wing.
The duke did not care about his own style, looking at the eyes of the window sharp and disdain, like what he remembered:
"The people who have dealt with him have eaten his losses... The violent temper of the murder, the expression of the deputy, the and hateful habit, he did not put 'I am a fool X' It’s engraved on the face.

Tyres raised his eyebrows and listened to Cyril's rough words.
"Maybe the baron is just not sociable..."
The Duke of Falkenhaus snorted:

Not good at communication?

Cyril bites a bite of fruit in his hand, as if he is not biting food, but an enemy who is not in the sky.
"Have you seen him smashing prisoners of war and collecting human heads on the battlefield? Have you ever seen the expression that he used to be indifferent when he wiped his blood? Do you know that he has never been soft when he kills himself?"
Taylors also remembered that the other side calmly digs the eyes of the solder in the blood splash, smashes the squat of the head of the dead, and feels uncomfortable in his heart.
Cyril snorted:
"Do you think that the commando he formed in the Stardust Guard was named 'Freak', just because of the few Prisoners he released? No..."
Tyres licked his lips and did not say anything.
The Duke of West West chewed the flesh in his mouth and shook his head with a sneer:
"That is because of Roman Williams, the wing of legend, hidden under the beautiful skin, is not knowing the rules, not care about the interests, neither sympathy nor lack of loyalty, temperament, unpredictability, indifference Cruelty is of odd interest, and the logic of thinking is different from ordinary people. It is far from what we can understand and beyond what the revival palace can command. It is really true-"
I saw that Cyril Falkenhauser’s eyes were cold and clear and resolutely biting:
"Freak."
Tyres took a deep breath and remembered that the legendary wing interrupted Nob's legs indifferently, scornfully saying that the king was a "dog hybrid."
"Maybe, there is always a quirk in genius?"
Cyril looked at the half of the fruit in his hand and picked up his mouth:
"genius?"
The duke looked up and looked deep.
"Then I have to say that such a bad habit is full of sin and even the freak that the royal family can't control, and it is placed in the remote west, placed in the chaotic western front, and spares no effort to supply his standing army..."
Cyril turned his back to Tyres, looking at the blade camp under the window, with deep meaning, shaking his head and snoring:
"Your father is probably also a..."
"genius."
Tyres frowned.
He really can't hear whether this is a sincere compliment or a spicy irony, or both.
But the prince understood a lot.
Tyres shook his head decisively:
"useless."
"As I said, I can't do anything about the established things - you can't take back the blade camp here and recapture what you lost from my father."
He looked at the indifference of a thousand miles:
"And you should go - this is the time I ate, not used to sharing with others."
However, contrary to Taylor's expectation, in the face of his obvious and decisive denial, Cyril did not confront each other with a negative attitude, nor did he use his usual tone of cynicism.
I saw the expression on the face of the duke loosened, not laughing or stabbing, just sitting right, faintly looking out the window.
"Blade Camp? Lost things?"
"His Royal Highness, have you seen the Western Expedition?"
He looked at the bustling under the window.
Tyres looked at Cyril's side face and suddenly felt that the Duke of Falkenhaus at the moment was awkward.
"In the past?"
The duke snorted, not knowing what he was thinking, just shook his head slightly:
"You know, 18 years ago, just after the successor to the Duke, I received the total order of the stars, and rushed to Yongxing City without stopping, listening to your grandfather's counter-insurgency mobilization with the other 18 people..."
"I never thought about it. It would be the next one to give birth to me."
Tyres’ expression changed and he fell into meditation.
Eighteen years ago.
The total order of the stars.
Rebellion mobilized.
but……
The prince looked up and wondered:
"next?"
But Tyres immediately had a flower, and he subconsciously contained a chest-armed arm and caught a piece thrown by the Duke of the West.
White bread?
Taylor looked at Cyril with amazement as he calmly retracted his left hand and threw a piece of fruit into his mouth again.
"Twenty-eight years have passed. Nowadays, very few young people know that before the war of the Scarlet Year, before the birth of the legendary wing, when the West Duke guardian Duke was my uncle..."
The West Duke bites the fruit while he is squatting:
"What is the West Wild?"
Thales frowned and looked at the Duke of the Duke, who was obviously not willing to leave the prince (or the prince's meal?), angered and opened his mouth, biting the soft and delicate white bread.
"At that time, the ruler here - Baron of the Blades, Garrett Luhmann is still an important vassal and a guest of my uncle, and often goes to the ruins, and grows up with me, and loves the same."
The duke smiled and watched the teenager look uncomfortably pulling his face out of the bread, but his eyes gradually solidified:
"At that time, we enjoyed a rare peace with the great desert."
peace?
Thales trying to tear the bread.
Just listen to the French Kenzi slow channel:
"We don't go in, and they -- whether it's the eight tribes of the orcs or the five tribes of the ridiculous people -- don't come over."
"Our patrol taxation follows the rules, and their grazing and grazing also have their own principles - they are far from each other, silently vigilant, living their own lives, well water does not make rivers, fair, tacit, natural."
"Let countless tour operators, herders, mercenaries, adventurers freely enter and exit the desert, with sand thieves, exiles, orcs and brows, and even with colleagues from the other side of the desert, trade, competition , killing, conflict, integration."
"Write their own stories."
Tyres chewed the bread and frowned at Tampa, the owner of the "My Family" pub.
Think of the history of the blade camp that he once said to himself.
That is the age of mercenaries.
By the way, how was Tampa going?
"At that time, there were even deserted residents who were eager for civilization to move to the West. When I got to the age of riding horses and began to inspect the desert, I was often able to see the wilderness at the border."
"If you are daring, as the caravan enters the desert, there will be a chance to see the face of the 'human enemy'. It is not unusual for merchants to bargain with the seemingly fierce gray hybrids. Weird things."
The duke's voice was sharp and sharp when it was flat, and it became smooth and smooth, with a slight vibrato in the breath, as if trying to endure something.
Wasteland.
Gray hybrids.
Thales first remembered the ridiculous McGee in Dante's Great Sword, and then the red-eyed Raphael.
And... that is not ordinary, gave him the orc of the adult rite "name" - Kandar Nushan.

Even the Chamber of Commerce has agreed on a regular trading day in the Great Desert, just like the market in our country; it is said that the caravan has gone out of a legendary connection to countless oases, reaching the depths of the desert and even going to the Golden Corridor. The magical business road proves that the area of ​​the big desert is not smaller than the star kingdom we are proud of."
Cyril’s words are filled with unspeakable smiles and unfortunate memories:
"Have you heard the story of the dawn of the three heroes in the desert to find the dragon? Have you heard the story of the countless desert city of Caligli? Have you heard the legendary ancient battlefield legend of the God of War? You have heard Do you hear the horror of the evil spirits under the yellow sands that swallow the world? Have you heard the legends of countless empire treasures buried deep in the desert?"
"At that time, they all came from the wonderful story in the mysterious desert. From countless people from here, they broke into the desert and brought it back, brought back to the West, brought back the stars, and made the legend of the ages."
吟 吟, stories, legends.
Once the desert and the West.
Tyres listened silently, and forgot the bread for a while.
The duke sighed:

The people of the West and the inhabitants of the desert are like this. We are jealous and need each other. We have friction and occasional cooperation, maintaining a weird but interesting ecology, enriching the land that has been dry for thousands of years.

The room was quiet for a few seconds.
"In the desert, worship - or people who fear ecstasy have an old saying."
Falkenhaus is secluded:
"There is no disaster, no disaster in the world."
Tyres eyebrows and subconsciously keeps up:
"There is no innocence, the desert is sorrowful."
Cyril’s eyes brightened and seemed to be a surprise to Tells.
"So you already know."
The duke smiled lightly:
"Do not work indiscriminately and actively reduce disasters. Everything has long been full of disasters."

You don’t have to be indifferent and personally pardoned. The existence of the Great Desert is its greatest tolerance.

Cyril’s face is sighed:
"Do you feel it? How is the desert in this sentence, how neutral, detached, indifferent, and seeing everything - just like the big desert itself?"
Tyres didn't speak, just remembered that before the Longyan City was on the way, the ridiculous Rafael warned him.
But at that time, the meaning of the explanation of this sentence by the Bone Man was:
The terrible desert is in danger everywhere.
The weak are afraid of the disaster, and those who are lucky are asking for help.
[Only at the same time abandoning the weak and the lucky, can find a foothold in the ruthless desert. 】
In contrast, the interpretation of the Duke of Cyril is so slang to the slang that makes people back cold...
balance?
impartial?
The Duke’s words continued, and in this narrow and bright room, there was some erratic in the room at the top of the tower that was penetrated by the cold wind:
"If the outside world is in a chaotic disaster, it doesn't matter. Because no matter what kind of disaster, when it reaches the desert, it will be buried by the endless sun and thousands of sands."
"It’s okay if the outside world is so popular, and the conflicts and cruelty in the desert will allow you to regain everything you need to survive."
The West Duke narrowed his eyes.
"It can't be comfortable, because its tolerance is only one side."
"It's not terrible, because its cruelty is just right."
In the thoughts of Thales, Cyril throws away the core of the hand, and the sharp light in his eyes:
"The world is flooded with water."
"Only the desert is warm and cold."
The Duke spit out a long breath and turned to look back at Tells, seeming to return to God.
Tyres quickly lowered his head and pretended to carelessly continue to deal with his bread.
But Cyril does not care:
"When the young I stood in the West, standing on the ancestral land, facing the horizon of the endless vast desert, this is what it told me."
"That is my memory of the Western Wilderness, the place where I raised my life."
In the next second, the tone of the West Duke changed.
"but……"
Cyril’s eyes were chilly, and Tyres couldn’t help but frown:
"Look at it now."
At that moment, Tells felt a substantial thick and stagnant.
The voice of the duke has become sharp and harsh, and it is subconsciously wanting to slap:
"After the year, the royal family entered the main blade camp, turning it into a pure military town, following the rules that are completely different from the Western and desert, fairness is no longer, tacit understanding, with every glory of the standing army. The attack on the desert is even worse."
Tyres frowned slightly, remembering the conflict between the standing army and the recruiting.
"The desert that used to be a wilderness has become a dangerous theater. The traders are becoming scarce. The mercenaries are no longer brilliant. The deserts are extinct. The once complicated and busy borders are dangerous and dead. All the rules are Destroyed, leaving only chaos and blood."
Taylors also remembered the tavern owner Tampa lamenting the bad market.
"And the orcs and the ridiculous people in the desert, once they appear, they will be in groups, fully armed, not leaving alive, endless alarms, endless rebellions, endless lines of defense, let us The real home in the West is so bad."
The Duke of Falkenhaus snorted:
"Only the legendary wing of the scarlet stardust battle flag, with each time he patrolled the desert, the horseshoe sound and the head rolling, flying high, leaving behind the royal glory and the blood of the West, and the eight tribes And the five major tribes and our hatred are only getting deeper and deeper."
Tyres swallowed the last bite of bread and did not say anything.
What did he pre-feel?
"What did the Scarlet Year bring?"
Cyril’s voice suddenly increased:
"I do not know."
The innocent and sharp voice of the duke, coupled with his terrible appearance, is quite heart-wrenching.
"The only thing I know is that after the year, after the outbreak of the Heymann War, the land of the West was in these eighteen years..."
He is heavily biting and powerful:
"What became it."
Boom!
Despite watching the Duke’s big knife stand up, Tyres was shocked by the sound of the crutches touching the ground.
Hey, hey, hey.
The crutches went down to the ground, and the Duke of the West was not tall, but there was a kind of cold body that was getting closer and closer.
It’s chilling.
Until he stopped in front of Taylors.
"Now, Your Royal Highness," Cyril Falkenhaus looked at him coldly, with an inescapable meaning:
"It's your turn to tell me: the year of the color gives us, to the West, to the people who have lived on this land for generations..."
"What brought it?"
Taylor tried to swallow his throat.
This is the first time he feels that even the ugly face, the Duke of the West, who is accustomed to cynicism and humor, has such a terrible side.
"I do not understand."
The prince pressed the conjecture in his heart and replied with difficulty.
"do not understand?"
Cyril snorted, but there was no easy and witty before.
"Or do you want to understand?"
His dry face is like a long-lasting cockroach, revealing a bitter cold wind from a deep eye hole.
Taylors was about to speak, but the Duke did not give him a chance.
"The reason why there will be a year, the reason we have everything we face - because there is a monster there."
The Duke of the West is cold and authentic.
what?
Tyres doubts frowning:
"monster?"
Boom!
Cyril’s crutches slammed:
"Correct!"
His tone is unquestionable, but with a deep hatred:
"That is a monster, a monster that feeds on power, uses life as its price, and destroys it for a living."
I saw the Duke carrying light, the gully on the surface was extremely gloomy, and his leather robe fluttered in the cold wind of the tower:
"It, Tyres, is hidden in the deepest part of the Renaissance Palace, hidden in the crown of the King of the High, hidden in the mausoleum where your ancestors rested, and hidden in the heart of every comet that has the right to inherit the throne."
Thales blinked and thought.
"Every time it wakes up in the human heart and stretches its claws, it will drive a terrible whirlpool, trying to absorb everything in this kingdom, crushing, eroding, and swallowing."
"By the gift of it, the West is nowhere - no, not only the West, but everything that the Star Kingdom once had collapsed, destroyed, died, and ceased to exist."
In the tower, the Duke of the West, Cyril Falkenhaus, resolutely and ruthlessly pointed to the prince of Princes, who was full of God’s alertness:
"And someone has to..."
"Go something to do."
(End of this chapter)