Re: In My Bloody Hit Novel - Chapter 352 Each tribe to their chosen ruler.

Chapter 352 Each tribe to their chosen ruler.

Neither King Richard nor commander hardstone was aware that their conversation was being listened to by Elder Baldie within the walls.

“Lord Manu Madayaki! it is just as you predicted…” he whispered softly as he receded into the darkness

However, it was not just one person eaves dropping on the king’s conversation with his guards. They were others too.

As the moonlit night cast an ethereal glow over the kingdom of Vandoria, and King Richard reclined on his regal bench, deep in conversation with his trusted guard, commander hardstone, something else happened. The origin of this chapter’s debut can be traced to /n/o/vel/b/in.

Unbeknownst to them, a mystical force was about to be unleashed in the form of a totem shaped like a grasshopper, perched inconspicuously on the corner of the bench. This totem, a conduit of very strong spirit energy, bore witness to the royal discourse and, with a subtle twitch, came to life.

As the totem sprang to life, it manifested a tangible form—a spectral grasshopper with iridescent wings.

The tiny creature absorbed the essence of the conversation between the king and his guard, comprehending the king’s intent and desires. In a mesmerizing display, it leaped off the bench, landing gracefully on the dew-kissed grass below.

With a newfound consciousness, the grasshopper navigated the darkened pathways of the palace, slipping through the crevices of stone walls and avoiding the vigilant eyes of the palace guards. It moved with an otherworldly grace, its body pulsating with the energy of the secrets it carried.

The twin moons, casting their silvery light, guided the grasshopper on its journey.

The night was alive with the sounds of rustling leaves and distant footsteps as the grasshopper encountered predators along its path. Cunningly, it danced through the air, evading the watchful gaze of owls and the stealthy approach of prowling cats.

Its movements were synchronized with the heartbeat of the night, a rhythm that resonated with the magic coursing through its tiny form.

The grasshopper’s journey led it through a small gathering of ancient trees, their twisted branches reaching towards the heavens. Beneath the canopy, shadows danced in the moonlight, and the grasshopper became a silent observer in this nocturnal ballet. It faced the challenge of infiltrating a web of spiders, each with its own predatory intent. The grasshopper, however, possessed an otherworldly aura that rendered it invisible to these arachnid guardians. It traversed the perilous maze, its wings shimmering like moonlit dewdrops.

Emerging from the thicket of trees, the grasshopper approached the sacred Shaman temple. The air around the temple resonated with spiritual energy, and the grasshopper felt the pull of the ancient shrine. Climbing a weathered stone staircase, it arrived at the entrance, guarded by stone statues of the Bear mother.

As the grasshopper crossed the threshold, the scene within was surreal. The temple was illuminated by the soft glow of sacred candles, and at the heart of it all, an elderly woman, the chief shaman, sat in deep meditation. The grasshopper, guided by an unseen force, climbed upon her frail form. In a mesmerizing convergence, the insect merged with the shaman, their essences intertwining.

The shaman stirred, her eyes opening to reveal a newfound wisdom. The totem had completed its mission, transferring the desires of the king to the one who held the delicate balance of Vandoria.

The grasshopper’s simple journey through the night, a symphony of moonlight and shadows, had a far bigger impart on the Vandoria kingdom than many would ever know.

The shaman, now merged with the essence of the grasshopper totem, found herself immersed in the depths of the secret message it had carried. As the revelations unfolded within her consciousness, a frown etched itself onto her weathered face. The weight of the information bore down on her, and a sense of urgency seized her being.

“We can’t have a king that the shaman temple can’t control. This will be disastrous!” she mused silently, her thoughts echoing through the sacred chambers of the temple. The delicate balance between the monarchy and the mystical forces that guided the kingdom was at risk, and the shaman knew that decisive action was required.

At first, she thought that she could control Chiron with the allure of healing his hands. However, with the information that his hands were now healed, she had lost her leverage over him in the negotiations.

The Shaman temple was feared and well respected. This was because of the control over the royal family that there had. king Richard was growing old. This control was waning

A determined glint flickered in her eyes as a devious plan began to formulate in her mind. “Unless, of course, I do something about it,” she thought, a sly smile curling at the corner of her lips. The Elder Shaman, both a vessel of ancient wisdom and a wielder of newfound power, raised her hands in a graceful motion.

As if summoned by her will, a servant of the temple materialized before her. The woman was shrouded in garments that concealed her eyes, and intricate totems adorned her skin, marking her as a devout follower of the mystical arts. In the dim light of the temple, the totems glowed faintly, attesting to their Spiritual significance.

The shaman’s eyes bore into the servant’s obscured gaze. “Bring the princess here! If we can’t get the prince, we will have the princess on our side,” she commanded, her voice echoing with a mixture of authority and anticipation. The servant nodded silently, acknowledging the gravity of the task assigned to her.

With a subtle bow, the servant dematerialized into thin air, leaving behind a lingering trace of Spirit energy. The shaman leaned back, her mind already orchestrating the steps of the upcoming gambit.

The princess, an unwitting pawn in the intricate game of destiny, would soon find herself entangled in the threads of power and mysticism.

The Shaman believed that she could change and weave Nora’s mind, and implant in her the desire to climb to the throne. Of course she was aware of Nora’s love for her brother. However, she believed that power was a more alluring master.

In the same garden where King Richard had engaged in his clandestine conversation, a diminutive swallow perched delicately upon a branch, its keen eyes and ears attuned to the secrets that echoed through the air. The small creature, with feathers as sleek as midnight and a beak that sparkled like polished obsidian, absorbed the king’s words like a silent sentinel.

As the king’s conversation unfolded, the swallow sensed the weight of the information it carried. With a flutter of its wings, the swallow took flight, soaring across the moonlit expanse of the royal capital of Kendou. The city sprawled beneath the twin moons, its vibrant streets bathed in a soft glow.

The swallow, swift and agile, navigated through the labyrinthine alleys and bustling markets until it reached a particular side of the capital. Here, nestled amidst the grandeur of Kendou, lay the territory owned by the enigmatic Swallow Tribe. The area exuded an air of mystery, and its inhabitants were known for their connection to the skies and their mastery of avian communication.

The swallow descended gracefully, its wings beating in a rhythmic dance as it approached a lavishly decorated room within a sprawling residence. The room was a testament to opulence, adorned with rich tapestries, ornate ornaments, and expensive items on display. Moonlight streamed through intricately designed windows, casting a soft glow upon the treasures within.

In the center of the room stood a magnificent display of exotic artifacts, each piece a testament to the Swallow Tribe’s affinity for beauty and sophistication. The walls were adorned with delicate paintings depicting scenes of flight and freedom, capturing the essence of the tribe’s connection to the skies.

At the heart of the room, Chief Wallow, adorned in regal attire that mirrored the splendor of the surroundings, awaited the swallow’s arrival. The bird alighted at the window, and with a graceful tilt of its head, it began to sing. The melody, a harmonious blend of notes, conveyed the intricate details of the king’s conversation.

Chief Wallow, a figure of wisdom and authority, listened intently as the swallow wove the message into a lyrical tapestry. The room resonated with the ethereal tune, and Chief Wallow’s eyes gleamed with a mix of concern and contemplation. The news carried by the swallow held the potential to shape the destiny of both the kingdom and the Swallow Tribe.

As the song concluded, Chief Wallow’s gaze lingered on the moonlit city beyond the window. The Swallow Tribe, guardians of the skies, now found themselves entangled in the intricate web of royal intrigues. With a subtle nod, Chief Wallow signaled to the gathered tribe members, and preparations began for the unfolding events that would shape the fate of Vandoria. The swallow, having fulfilled its duty, took flight once again, disappearing into the night sky as the moonlight bathed the Swallow Tribe’s territory in a silver sheen.

“We cannot let Prince Chiron climb the throne. It will be the end of Vandora.” Chief Wallow muttered. Although it seemed as if he was talking just for the well-being of the country, those who knew him closely knew that it was just because he had a personal vendetta against Chiron.

It seemed as if King Richard was not aware that his conversation had leaked. But then again, he might have intentionally allowed them listen…