The bright sunshine hits the walls decorated with tassels, precious paintings and exquisite wallpapers are immersed in the hazy halo, soft carpets cover the entire hall, servants in dark clothes come and go, only
The door of the main room deep in the mansion is closed, and the velvet curtains are drawn tightly.
Different from Roen's subtle dressing style, Intis prefers bright colors, and some men even use brightly colored feathers to decorate their formal clothes like the nobles of the Southern Continent.
Therefore, they are always grasped by the Loen nobles and are regarded as a symbol of vulgarity and exaggeration.
The butler in formal clothes stood in the middle of the hall, looking down at the servants cleaning the house below him, and checking his watch every few minutes.
He is the fourth generation steward here. He inherited his father's position at the age of thirty and was given the task of serving the owner of the manor - Field Marshal of the Russell Empire and now Military Advisor of the Republic of Intis.
François Soult - Responsibilities.
Unlike other generals who were promoted by the emperor during the Russell Empire, this marshal was not suppressed by the Republic government. Instead, he suppressed the dissent of a large number of military generals because he publicly spoke in support of the Republic government. He has been sitting among the military angels for a long time.
Ascend to the throne of the first decision-maker.
Although due to recent changes in the situation, with the support of a "weather warlock" who had political disagreements with Marshal Soult, he was sent to the Presbytery by Coveno Solon, who was also the "War Bishop", and became a
He is a nominal consultant, but relying on his excellent strength and the connections he has accumulated over the years, his party members are still closely united around the marshal, and there is no tendency to break up the tree.
This morning, after Marshal Soult got up, he deliberately asked his "young" housekeeper to thoroughly clean the already somewhat lonely manor in preparation for the arrival of a distinguished guest.
Distinguished guest... The butler temporarily moved his sore eyes away from those damn plates. Although the bone china decorations could be used as mirrors, he was still worried that something would go wrong and spoil the marshal's mood.
His master was already a marshal, and he could not imagine what kind of important figure could be so valued by a saint!
The butler, who was nearly fifty years old, took off the tortoiseshell glasses on the bridge of his nose, took out a handkerchief to wipe his eyes, and did not notice a lady wearing a brown coat and long skirt walking slowly past him.
The black boots stepped on the soft floor without making any unnecessary noise.
In the gorgeous palace-like manor, this uninvited guest walked freely, passed by the servants who were hurriedly cleaning, until he walked to the closed main house, and knocked on the closed door.
"Please come in."
The marshal's low and hoarse voice came from inside the house, and the heavy solid wood door slowly opened inward, revealing a darkness.
This place is more like a study than the main room. The bed is only huddled in the corner of the room, and the rest of the room is filled with bookcases. In the middle, there is a desk full of documents and large books.
Long table.
Marshal Sirte sat on his favorite seat, with a smile without much warmth on his wrinkled face.
"Good morning, Your Highness Princess."
The automatically closing door lifted up the hem of Bernadette's windbreaker. Her blue eyes scanned the surrounding decorations, and finally looked at the pure white chair opposite the desk with some dissatisfaction.
"I didn't expect that after decades of not seeing each other, you would already fall in love with this dark style."
Thick curtains blocked the light, and only the lamp on Soult's desk glowed bright yellow, facing the opposite direction to him.
The layout of this room looks almost the same as an interrogation room.
"I think my recent preferences are nothing compared to your affairs, Your Highness Bernadette."
Soult pointed to the seat opposite him, and only withdrew his palm when he saw that Bernadette was reluctant to sit down.
"I'm very curious about what happened that made you take the risk to enter Insti and visit me in person." His cloudy eyes looked at Bernadette's slightly white lips, and Surte leaned back in his chair.
Back, "You know, not everyone will treat you as a princess like me."
Princess... Bernadette chewed on this word. Although she didn't hear a hint of ridicule from the other person's mouth, she was still inexplicably aroused and frowned.
"In this case, I think the commission I'm going to talk about next should go more smoothly."
Soult did not answer, but nodded, indicating for her to continue.
"I need the blood of Sauron and Einhorn's family," Bernadette added after seeing Surte's expression visibly darkening, "I only need blood, not their lives.
"
"I almost thought you had some unrealistic ideas," Sirte's expression returned to indifference, but a looming gloom could still be seen in his brows and eyes, "The Sauron family is okay, after all, they are not in a good place now...
....”
"But the Einhorn family still firmly holds the throne of Fenebaud, and they have a very close ally with the Church of the Earth Mother. They are not the ones you should actively provoke."
"But if it's just blood..."
Soult raised his chin slightly, and the tone at the end of the sentence was deliberately longer.
"Your Highness, may I take the liberty of asking you what you want to do?"
In occultism, blood can often be used as a very direct curse material, not to mention that the blood designated by Bernadette is not a specific person, but generally refers to the bloodline shared by a family.
Looking at Soult's slightly narrowed eyes, Bernadette couldn't help but think of the two "ghosts" she saw in the tomb at the rear after reaching a certain relationship with the ancestor of the Medici family, the Red Angel.
At that time, the ancestors of Sauron and Einhorn also looked at the two collaborators in the conspiracy in this way. Of course, there were also provocations in their mouths that were not worthy of the stage by Medici standards.
Bernadette raised the corners of her mouth slightly and crossed her legs.
"To help a friend."
"friend?"
Soult subconsciously supported the table with both hands. Even though it has been eroded by years, his young and romantic face can still be seen as serious and old-fashioned.
Seeing that Bernadette chose to remain silent, the marshal immediately gave up questioning and changed the subject.
"Each of us has some secrets, and I am happy to serve you, but I think you still need to show more sincerity. After all, the Sauron family is okay, and the blood of the Einhorn family members is not important to me.
It is said that there is still a certain degree of difficulty.”
"What if I said, I could give you the formula for 'Weather Warlock'?"
"Do you think I don't have one?" A sarcastic smile appeared in Soult's eyes, "When His Majesty overthrew the Sauron family, he rewarded me with the complete formula of 'Weather Warlock' as soon as possible."
Bernadette, who was completely unaware of this matter, frowned slightly and then quickly relaxed her brows, and then came up with a second plan.
"Then what if it is the formula of the 'Conqueror', or the whereabouts of an angel's characteristics?"
She interrupted Soult's unquestioned question.
"You should know the blasphemous cards my father left behind, and I have no reason to lie to you about the authenticity of the formula."
Looking at the expressionless Bernadette, Soult quickly weighed the gains and losses and tapped his fingers lightly on the table.
"As for the characteristics of the 'Weather Warlock', I don't remember that Your Majesty has ever obtained similar items. Of course, if my status in His Majesty's heart is not high enough, I am not qualified to know about it. Please forgive me."
Even if he didn't mean it, there was a hint of sarcasm in his words, secretly poking the hole in Bernadette's heart.
In a sense, compared to Surte, who participated in part of the mausoleum construction plan, she was an "outsider" who knew nothing about it, and was an insignificant person who was excluded from the plan to become a god by Russell.
"I can tell you an address, and you can explore it yourself. Under the law of aggregation of extraordinary characteristics, you should be able to feel the attraction of that characteristic to you on your own."
Bernadette lowered her head, and without scruples pulled out a piece of paper from Surte's desk filled with documents, and wrote down the name of the island and the corresponding coordinates.
"Bansi?"
As a former general from the Intis navy, Surte chewed on the name and quickly found a matching impression in his brain.
If he remembered correctly, this should be an unremarkable island in the Sunian Sea. It was originally ruled by indigenous people, but after steamships became more and more popular, it became an overseas territory of Loen.
"They once believed in the so-called 'weather god'." Bernadette added deliberately.
Finally, the weight on the scale was greater than the weight of the scale, and the smile reappeared on Soult's face.
"I will go and see the island myself."
He waved his left hand gently in the air, and the bright flame instantly burned through all the candlesticks in the main room, dispelling the previous darkness.
"Your Royal Highness, I am happy to serve you."
The old marshal finally stood up and bowed deeply to Bernadette, who was sitting on a pure white chair.
...
After using complicated and false social rhetoric, Bernadette finally stayed away from the manor that made her feel uncomfortable.
The illusory horses pull a pumpkin carriage that seems to have stepped out of a fairy tale. The colorful light bridge continues to extend under the wheels, holding the carriage for a walk in the spiritual world.
She looked out the window at all kinds of strange creatures, but tried to avoid looking directly at those creatures.
For example, the terrifying spirit body just now was dragging a huge bone scythe, wearing a robe, and a darkness under the hood.
In the spiritual world, staring is a very obvious provocation.
"Now only the blood of your descendants is left." Bernadette retracted her gaze and looked at the dressing mirror with a wave of water in her palm.
"That's not a problem. The blood of Sauron and Einhorn is more important."
The scarlet font slowly emerged in the water waves, obviously half a beat too slow.
"Actually, I'm more curious about where your descendants are hiding. After all, if the Sauron family hadn't kept some records, I wouldn't have been able to find records about the Medici family."
The dissolving scarlet font suddenly solidified, and the overflowing color continued to spread, but it did not change after a long time.
Finally, the scarlet red coalesced again, and the "water surface" behind it became even darker.