Vol 2 Chapter 505: Only one day left

Chapter 505 is only one day left
Gilbert glanced at Taylors deeply.
"I can't make a statement."
Even if only two people face to face, the foreign minister is still rigorous and modest in his use of words:
"Maybe they do have old grievances, maybe they are not obedient to each other. Maybe it’s just an accident that the king’s life has been unsatisfactory in the Western Wilderness for many years."
But Gilbert narrowed his eyes:
"But, standing in the perspective of your father and your rule, Your Highness, they are colluding, or coincidence, or both, just tacit..."

Is this important?

Tyres heard the look.
Gilbert took a deep breath and was very serious:
"Western, it is like a rough and uneven, soft and hard cake, sometimes slippery, sometimes stubborn, both hard and hard to cut teeth, but also cut thick and sticky, no matter how slowly It’s still a big time to eat, from which angle it’s hard to talk, and public opinion digests.

"Compared with this, whether it is Arunde, who is in danger in the north, and the South Pitt, which is very easy to fold, including the young and energetic Kevin Dil on the South Bank..."
Gilbert shook his head, and the jealousy and worry in his eyes increased.
"So, do you understand the significance of Baron Williams?"
Tyres, who had not yet responded, looked at him with a sly look.
Just listen to Gilbert and smile softly:
"Yes, compared with the name of his Yangwei desert, people who have really touched the insider know that the wings of the legend are full of arrogance, arrogance, difficulty in getting along, countless enemies, and disdain to travel."
His words are precise and direct.
"Even if he does not see the Fuxing Palace, he does not have respect for the nobility in his eyes. He lacks care for the tradition. If he is angry, he can develop a teacher. One sorrow is enough to break the city, and he is willing to go his own way.

Nature doesn’t care much about the political tricks in the West.

Tyres froze.
In his mind, Romane screamed Nob, coldly, threatening to kill the palace.
[Next time, if they want to take my territory again, go to play a political game of balancing power... just wait for me to go to the Fuxing Palace to find them. 】
Gilbert's tone has a touch of disdain:
"With the support of the royal family and the army, he is even more unscrupulous: no matter the toughness of the black lion, the old-fashioned crow, the unpredictable skull of the four eyes, and the eve of the desert war, no one can In the face of madness and fierceness, it is eclipsed."
In the eyes of Gilbert, the fox caught the prey-like excitement:
"So, when a fierce who didn't even buy the king's account, it was rooted in a complex situation, chaotic and ruined..."
He didn't talk anymore, just looking at Taylors with a smile.
Instead, Tyres looked at him with surprise:
"So what you need is not the West, which is not harmonious with each other, and is entangled. Is it a Western wilderness that is forced to twist into a rope under the weight of the rules?"
"Well, let you hold the rope head, hold the key, you can once and for all, the trapped beast?"
"And Williams, that is the weight?"
In front of him, Gilbert still smiled as ever.
Williams, Falkenhaus, Klomm, Bozdorf...
And now, it’s Gilbert, and...
Kessel V.
Tyres leaned against the chair and looked at his eyebrows with distress, only to think that his brain was exploding.
After a long while, he put down his palm.
"But is this useful?"
"The aristocrats of the West, even the most radical ones, will not surrender because there is a madman at the door. On the contrary, they will only be angered, and more..."
Tyres can't find any good vocabulary, just take the example directly:
"Like this time, Gilbert, the arrogant Williams almost burned through half of the blade camp, and pitted all the supplies that the West Lord had placed here, but they..."
But at this time, a terrible thought flashed over the mind of Tells.
His words are still going on, but the speed of speech has slowed down unconsciously:
"They...they...he..."
The prince's words paused.
He stared at Gilbert.
"Gilbert, if the wing of legend is part of your plan..."
Taylor looked at his old teacher incredulously:
"So how do you expect the West to react?"
What Gilbert realized, his smile faded away.
"His Highness, it’s not early..." He cleared his throat.
But Tyres seems to be immersed in his own world, and he is self-sufficient:
"I always thought that the blade camp is not your goal, but a bait."
"And the Western aristocrats have suffered heavy losses and have to spit out the camp. That is your result."
"But if I am wrong?"
Tyres slammed the broken meal on the plate.
Gilbert did not speak, just looked at him with concern.
"If, if the blade camp is not even a bait, if it is just a regular gambling table, let the Western aristocrats who think they understand the rules, carefully put the chips?"
Tyres slowly shunned his own thoughts, while narrating and speaking, the more he said, the more he was shocked:
"Until their chips are eaten by Williams who ignores the rules - if this is the real bait?"
"If the results you want are not just for the West lords to spit out the blade camp?"
"If all you want, it is precisely that they are being fooled and hit hard, forced to tear off their restraints under pressure, and there is no way to fight back?"
Gilbert frowned and shook his head:
"This is how much you care, Your Highness, why do we want to..."
But Taylors interrupted him again.
"Gilbert."
Tyres looked at the plate in a dull manner:
"Following you and Marlows, the thousands of royal standing soldiers from the inland, from the North and the Central..."
"They are not going to change the blade camp, not to greet me, right?"
Gilbert pulled his face and smiled a little bit:
"I don't understand what you mean. Of course they come to meet the heirs of the kingdom."
Tyres was still staring at the plate, shook his head subconsciously:
"Or they are coming to fight - in the face of a desperate night, the Western aristocrats who intend to counterattack."
This time, the silence at the table continued for a long time.
And Tyres is just lying on his own seat, motionless.
Looking at the second prince, Gilbert sighed heavily:
"You think about it, Your Highness, the nobles are not so stupid, and they are not so impulsive, even the most radical Bozdorf."
Gilbert coughed awkwardly:
"They are not sure to defeat the legendary wing on the battlefield, and they have no chips to force the revival of the palace to give in, and then spit out the blade camp, why do you want to do such unwise things?"
As the voice fell, Gilbert looked at the prince with concern.
This time, Tyres looked back at him.
Six years ago, in the Judith Hall, compared to the unrecognized Yodel and the unrequited Ginny, the polite and mean foreign minister was one of the few people who trusted him and sincerely admired him. In the years, whenever he recited the years in Judith Hall, he would have a clear sense of belonging to his gradually blurred hometown and returning home.
But don't know why...
Six years after the Northland, after the halo of goodbye was removed...
I don't know why, he thinks that Gilbert's eyes suddenly become strange.
"Yes, you are right."
Thales stared at the edge of the table, mechanically opening, as if repeating the words of Gilbert:
"Even if they have suffered such a large loss, but the West has no chips, they will not be so unwise, and they will give the royal family a reason to punish them and completely seize power from them."
The West Wilderness has no chips.
Chips.
A chip that lures the Western aristocrats to counterattack.
At that moment, he suddenly understood.
Taylors raised his gaze and stared at Gilbert, barely pulling his mouth:
"I think too much."
Gilbert avoided the gaze that Tyre almost saw through him, stiffly:
"My little gentleman, your dinner is going to be cold, and we have to hurry tomorrow..."
The heartbeat of Tyres slowly moved.
At that moment, he only felt that his heart was jumping slowly and slowly.
so slow.
"His Royal Highness?"
Taylors woke up.
He forced himself to squeeze a smile, took a deep breath and started eating again.
The foreign minister seemed to feel something, but he just hesitated to open his mouth and did not say anything.
"Why, Gilbert."
Gilbert looked up.
I saw that the thoughts of Tyres did not cut the meal, and the mood was low:
"Why, the Duke of the West is going to give me a hand, the sword of his family."
"Why, after seeing the Wings of the Legend, it will be so angry."
"Why, the count of the single-winged crow came in person, and the courtesy sent me home."
It is clearly a question, but there is no doubt in the tone.
Looking at Gilbert's hesitant look, what Taylors understood.
"About this..." Gilbert paused and explained with patience and gentleness.
But Taylors can't hear what he is saying.
He remembered the story that the watchman told Dyle when he first met Marles.
[Then from that day... the king’s grace and the people, everyone will live and work in peace, forever and ever, happy and happy life...]
original……
That's not just a story.
Taylors bowed his head and stayed in place.
Ugly old things are right.
His father is indeed a genius.
Is not it.
just.
just……
Tyres squeezed the knife in his hand.
"...so, this is a common method used by the nobility, please, draw."
Gilbert and his sister finished speaking and pulled Tyre from the silent thoughts.
The prince looked up like a rusty doll and smiled.
"Yes."
"So soon, the whole kingdom will know that the Duke of the West and the returning star prince are laughing and laughing in the blade camp, giving each other gifts."
Tyres is bitterly authentic:
"And on the eve of the night, the little unpleasantness between the Baron of the Blades and the lords of the West, has disappeared."
"Their goal... is reached."
He did not ask again.
Gilbert looked at the bitter expression of Tyres, and eventually did not say anything, just exhaled, don't go too far.
"So you understand?"
The foreign minister lowered his head, his expression was unclear, and his tone was low:
"That sword is still going back."
Tyres held the hand of the knife and paused.
He took a deep breath.
The lights in the main hall were dim.
"Do not."
"The country six years ago was at the meeting, you said, Gilbert."
Tyres stared at the plate, and his heart was mixed.
"In politics, facing the opponents, rushing to kill, leaving heart and soul without leaving room, this is not a clever way of politics."
"In the past six years, I have learned more deeply about this truth."
Gilbert frowned.
Taylors took a deep breath.
When the prince looked up, the smile had returned to bleak and natural:
"I think, I still leave it."
"If there is such a day, I want to leave room for both sides who have no way to retreat."
Gilbert was slightly surprised.
"And this sword, no matter what the intention behind it," Taylors's eyes glimpsed, but immediately returned to normal:
"At least, it has the potential to be that room."
Tyres is very authentic:
"As long as there is a glimmer of hope, I don't want to give up."
The voice fell.
The silence in the main hall lasted for a long time.
After a long while, Gilbert sighed long.
"His Royal Highness," Stars' foxes looked at Taylors with relief:
"You have grown up."
Tyres bends his lips and bends his mind.
"You said this once."
Gilbert smiled, but he could see that his smile was a little stubborn.
"Yes, Your Highness, but..."
Gilbert looked straight into the eyes of Tyres and sighed again:
"You really grew up."
This time, Tyres did not refute, he just smiled again, and then turned his eyes back to the plate.
Just when the two are silent and silent.
"Gilbert."
"Is my father ever thought about it?"
The prince slowly chewed a piece of food that he did not pay attention to:
"On the way, if I am dead, what should I do?"
Gilbert's face was tense.
"His Royal Highness, we will do our best to protect your safety..."
Tyres sighed and bitterly raised his lips.
"Yeah, you said this."
"six years ago."
The foreign minister was suddenly speechless.
A few seconds later, Gilbert took it very unnaturally:
"This, this is also the reason why Yodel is at your side along the way."
He reluctantly said:
"Your Majesty cares about your safety, so he sent his most trusted secret guard..."
"He believes that Jodel can protect you, just as he believes he can protect his Majesty."
In a word, Gilbert turned his head and scanned the air on his side as if to confirm something:
"Yes, old friend?"
But there are only two people at the table in the main hall.
There is only the sound of the knife and fork colliding with the plate in the air.
no respond.
Gilbert's smile slowly stiffened.
Taylors raised his eyes and looked at the old teacher unconsciously.
Gilbert vomited.
"Maybe Jodel is not here," the Foreign Minister smiled bitterly:
"Maybe he is just..."
Gilbert glanced around and finally bowed his head innocently, sighing helplessly:
"...don't want to talk to me."
Just at this time.
"The latter." The hoarse voice suddenly sounded.
The foreign minister was shocked.
Gilbert looked back subconsciously, and still only looked at the void.
Tyres bent his corners.
"Ok."
Gilbert has a heart:
"By the way, the task is complete, old friends."
"You have not lived up to your reliance and protected his heirs from returning safely."
Still no response.
Gilbert could only sigh and look back.
Instead, Tells suddenly put down the knife and fork and stared at the air.
"What's wrong?" Gilbert asked with concern.
Tyres didn't look at him, just grabbed the spoon and picked up a spoonful of beans.
"Nothing, that is..."
Tyres looked at the beans in a fascinating way, subconsciously pulling his mouth.
"Some miss the Northland."
especially……
When dining.
Gilbert raised his eyebrows.
"You know, after the Fortress Peace Treaty 18 years ago, for quite a long time..."
The foreign minister nodded, and there was no end to nostalgia in his tone.
"I think so too."
At the table, I am so immersed in my own memories.
A few seconds later, Tyres returned and gently put down the spoonful of beans.
Grab the hard to use knife and fork.
The second prince showed a decent smile to Gilbert and ate a piece of meat covered with sauce with impeccable etiquette.
Gilbert gave him a happy smile.
But only Tells knows.
That piece of meat has been put too long.
Bitter.
stiff.

In the faint light, the Count of Bozdorf rushed into the door.
A guard with a four-headed skull emblem on his armor caught up, but he pushed away unceremoniously.
Guardian anger from the heart, waiting for the sword.
"Nothing," a sharp, cold squeak in the room sounded, and the guard's arm stopped hard:
"He can come in."
The Count of Bozdov did not look at the guard who had to retreat, and strode directly to the master of the sharp voice, staring at the other party who was eating.
"You came in without notice," Cyril Falkenhaz swallowed a fruit, which lifted his terrible face and squinted at the visitor:
"In exchange for Gaohe here, he will kill you directly."
"Use your fist."
But his threat seems to be ineffective for the guests.
"My father respects you, Cyril," said the owner of the black lion, Lewis Bozdorf.
"I don't."
The Duke of the West was sneer.
"Coincident, I also respect your father," he removed his attention from the plate in front of him, and his tone was cold:
"But not you."
Bozdov screamed.
"You asked the crow to go to the camp day and night, and rushed to the camp to pick him up?"
Count Earl Lewis bit his teeth, and the anger in his eyes almost overflowed:
"you?"
The West Duke once again chuckled and did not answer.
But Bozdorf is not prepared to let him go.
Boom!
The double fists with iron gloves slammed onto the table at Falkenhaus, shook a dish of fish and sipped the juice.
The Duke of the West is not flustered, not angered.
He just silently pulled out a handkerchief and wiped the splashed face.
The Earl of Black Lion bent his elbow, and the upper body slowly pressed toward the Duke.
"I even got the family flag of the kid ready, big side," Lewis looked like a knife, biting the word:
"Just wait for 'greeting' him."
The Duke of West China laughed and laughed:
"Really?"
The Count of Bozdov stared at the seemingly indifferent duke and then bent his lips.
It’s like being laughed at.
"In the town of gifts, the boy is in front of me, as I am now as close as you are."
"You can cut your throat with one knife."
Bozdov glared at his head and saw the fierce light. He was numb and numb to the Duke of the Western West, and sometimes his sharp eyes were sharp.
"And he is as self-righteous as he was six years ago, proudly showing off his ridiculous eloquence to me, not knowing that he is only a foot away from the disaster."
Falkenhaus has no threatened consciousness at all, but heh:
"You have to admit that the kid really has a bit of eloquence, isn't it?"
Bozdorf seems to have not heard it, biting his teeth:
"And the crow, and the same crows, he was there, blocking me and him, blocking my army's reach, smiling at me, like a scorpio close-fitting bodyguard."
Bozdorf’s voice is cold and the words are suppressed:
"because of you."
The smile of Falkenhaus slowly converges, thoughtfully.
"Well, Nadler still did a good job."
"Thanks to the sunset, he just had a crow, isn't it?"
boom!
Lewis's double fists slammed the table again!
"I could have taken him!"
This time, Count Bozdov no longer suppressed his anger.
"You know that my army - the black lion infantry regimen that is best at breaking the card and destroying the city and pulling the village - has arrived at the town of gift, you know that I am from the blade camp, away from him..."
Bozdov was furious, and he gasped a few mouthfuls before he finished his speech:
"...only one day left."
"one day."
He bit his head.
Falkenhaus seems to be serious too, he scorns disdainfully:
"and then?"
Bozdorf stared at the Duke of the West.
"That is the lifeblood of the Renaissance Palace, the foundation of their rule, and the best bargaining chip for us for more than a decade."
The Earl of Black Lion is aggressive, and the anger in his eyes is clearly visible:
"We can recapture the blade camp and even drive away the sissy."
"At least, tell them our attitude..."
But the Duke of the West, who was not warm, suddenly looked up and cut off the iron:
"Then the Bozdorf family in the soul of the soul is dead, and there is only one day left!"
His words are as cold as the wind, and you are welcome.
The conversation between the two stopped for a few seconds.
This time, it turned out that Bozdorf began to sneer.
"Do you know what happened in the blade camp?"
"Duke of the Dukes?"
The Earl of Black Lion straightened up and pulled away from the other side, but the sharpness in his eyes increased.
"Bailal lost all year-round income, many of which were borrowed; Emory lost their family heirs; the new offer lost the season's harvest."
"And Toth said that he will never participate in our military expedition."
"Lugo even pressed everything in the family."
Falkenhaus turned his head and avoided the count of the count.
Bozdorf’s question is like grinding out:
"this is us."
"Is it dying today, tomorrow is dying, is there a difference?"
Falkenhaus slowly raised his head.
"Of course."
At this moment, the eyes of the Duke of the West were deep.
"If you die today, you have nothing."
Falkenhauser narrowed his eyes.
"Tomorrow is dead, you have at least hope for tomorrow."
Lewis Bozdov opened his lips and smiled coldly.
Two seconds later, his laughter came to an abrupt end.
"Tomorrow's hope?"
"All you have to do..."
His smile turned into ice:
"For the so-called - hope?"
Cyril Falkenhaus paused.
"Do not."
He reached out and turned to his cane, his eyes condensed on the hook that was originally hanging with a long sword, but now it was empty.
"For the sake of..."
The duke took the most complicated and unspeakable emotions and said:
"tomorrow."
(End of this chapter)