Semua Bab ROYAL BLOOD: Bab 71 - Bab 80

The cramped local bar was filled with peasants, both women and men alike. Gambling coins and drinking wine, cheerful laughter and deranged grins etched on their faces. The bar was lit up with lanterns and fire torches, with the loud strings of instruments playing and commoners dancing, completely drunk. "Hey garl, get me three cups of ale! A man screamed with the accent of that of a common peasant, hitting his half-filled cup of ale on the shaky wooden table, and some of the contents spilled on the table violently. A lady with a loose scarf around her dark brown hair, dressed in a long, worn-out brown dress, makes her way with three filled cups. Freckles spread across her upper nose and face; she had thick eyebrows, making her face look slightly manly. "That will be three silver coins." She says, dropping the wooden cups on the table, then using her dress to wipe the bead of sweat glistening on her forehead."Three cups! We're four! A man seated around the table of four screamed

The desert stretched endlessly in every direction, dust from the sand rising in the air.The air shimmered under the weight of the sun, distorting the horizon like water that wasn't there. Joya walked on, her bare feet sinking into sand so hot it felt like fire. She tried to keep her pace steady, but her legs trembled with each step, muscles screaming from hours of relentless marching. Then suddenly she crouched down, landing on the sand with a thud, sweat glistening on her face. She tore a piece of material from her gown, then tied it on her feet. She turned around and saw Merlin trudging behind her, like a walking corpse. The two women that had survived with them were far behind. Her throat was parched beyond pain. Every breath dragged in air so dry it seemed to pull the moisture from her lungs. Her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth, and the faint taste of blood lingered from where she had bitten her cracked lips. She kept her eyes low, squinting against the stabbing gl

Hamstung Royal Palace Joya was dressed in a niggardly plain white dress, her hair packed in a ponytail. She was washed up, and now she looked exactly like Katie. Her beauty was simply breathtaking. As she walked along the marbled floor of the ancient palace, her hands trailed on the carved writings on the wall, intricate designs inscribed on the carvings. It was at this point Ragaleon was seen coming, draped in red regalia, his dark shoulder-length hair sinfully resting on his shoulders. A cape-like black material with a golden button hooked around the neck billowed down to his feet, billowing from behind him and barely grazing the floor. Behind him were servants carrying heavy boxes filled with golden coins and all sorts of earthy valuables. The hallway had different sections; Joya was in one of the sections of the hallway and was about to take a turn in the direction Ragaleon was coming from. When another maid called her, catching her attention. She turned around, her pony

The palace was drowned in silence. Outside, the wind whispered faintly against the stone walls, stirring the embroidered curtains that guarded Jazell's chamber. Moonlight blends through the tall windows, pale and ghostly, stretching long silver fingers across the floor of polished marble. The scent of roses and burning incense lingered in the air, soft but heavy, like a dream that clung too tightly. Jazell lies asleep on her bed, a canopy of silk draping overhead. Her breathing was steady, regal even in slumber. The chamber was an ocean of velvet shadows: the gilded furniture loomed quietly. There was a hush—until a ripple of movement broke the silence. From the window a snake slipped into the room. Its scales glimmered faintly, catching the moonlight like tiny pieces of polished obsidian. Its tongue flickered, tasting the warm air of the chamber. The creature moved without a sound, a dark ribbon winding across the floor. Its body undulated with patient grace, every muscle working

Sunlight spilled through the high arched windows, casting golden patterns across the marble floor of the palace corridors. Selena, queen mother, moved with quiet dignity, her robes brushing softly against the stone, the embroidery glimmering where the light touched. Courtiers and attendants bowed low as she passed, parting quickly from her path.Her face was calm, but her eyes carried the weight of memory—of a son once small enough to cling to her hand, now grown and crowned king of the realm. The air was alive with the hum of the palace—guards standing tall in polished armor, maids going about their business. Yet all seemed to hush in her presence, as though the palace itself honored her passage.At last she reached the great doors of her son's chamber. Two guards stepped aside and lowered their spears, bowing deeply. She paused only briefly, drawing a steadying breath, before lifting her chin and signaling them to open the way. As the doors swung wide, the morning light floode