The man in black robe did not answer. He turned around again and looked out the window.
The golden figure was approaching, and the outlines of three heads were clearly visible.
"Where is Daemon?" The man in black robe suddenly asked an irrelevant question.
Menander was stunned for a moment. "He... he is at the port, saying he wants to personally supervise the battle-"
"Idiot."
These were the last words spoken by the man in black robe.
Then he raised his hand and made a gesture.
The men in black robes behind them stood up at the same time and took out black iron boxes one by one from under the table.
The box is not big, but it looks extremely heavy. Carrying it in the hands makes those people's arms sink slightly.
They didn't run.
They chose to fight.
While high in the sky, Redd looked at the red dome of the white palace, and raised the corners of his mouth slightly.
He saw it. He saw the figures of those men in black robes moving behind the window, and he saw the man standing in front of the window staring at him.
"I found you." He said softly.
King Ghidorah's three heads let out a low neighing sound at the same time, and the six golden eyes burned with impatient light.
Redd patted the head in the middle, with a hint of smile in his voice, "Don't worry. Let Dawg Lars surround the place first. Then--"
His eyes fell on the red dome, and the smile at the corner of his mouth gradually turned cold.
"Then, we'll go meet them."
Inside the house, people in black robes opened the black iron boxes.
The inner wall of the box is lined with a thick layer of flannel to reduce collision and friction during transportation.
There are several metal components neatly stacked in each box - some are slender, some are short and thick, some are bent at specific angles, and some are smooth and cylindrical.
The surface of these components has a dull iron-gray luster, and the hammering lines left during forging can still be seen on the edges.
When they were taken out, they made a slight metal collision sound. The sound was crisp and cold, like the knuckles of the god of death tapping on the door.
A man in black robes took out a slender iron pipe from the box and carefully wiped the inner and outer walls with a piece of flannel.
The inner wall of the iron pipe is as smooth as a mirror, and the spiral rifling can be vaguely seen - this is the secret forging technique that took the craftsmen deep in the dwarf mines several years to master.
Each such barrel needs to be forged and polished hundreds of times before it can withstand gunpowder explosions without exploding the chamber.
He embedded the iron pipe into a wooden gun butt and fixed it with a copper hoop. Then he took out an exquisite firing device from another small box and installed it on the back of the gun butt.
Fire gun.
This is a forbidden object that can only be forged in the deepest secret chamber of Citadel.
Its principle is not complicated - Blackfyre powder burns in a closed space to produce a large amount of gas, which pushes out the projectiles blocked at the muzzle at high speed.
But to turn this principle into a weapon that can actually be used on the battlefield requires not only knowledge, but also countless failures and improvements.
It is the lessons of blood and tears accumulated by craftsmen in explosions and fires, and it is the technological breakthrough achieved by those old bachelors Citadel with their lifelong efforts.
At this moment, there are at least twenty such firecrackers in the room.
Another man in black robes is assembling a larger weapon.
He pushed a heavy black wooden box from the corner of the room. The four corners of the box were covered with iron sheets, and the lock was made of brass. The emblem of Citadel was engraved on it - an open palm with an open eye in the palm.
He opened the lid of the box, and the contents inside were wrapped in thick straw and velvet, revealing only a round, cast-iron outline.
Small artillery.
The barrel is not long, only about the length of an adult's forearm, but the wall is extremely thick, more than two inches at its thickest point.
The mold clamping line left during casting can still be seen on the surface of the cast iron, and the muzzle is slightly expanded, like an iron flower in bud.
There is a small hole at the end of the barrel for inserting the fuze.
The entire barrel is placed on a wooden gun carriage with wheels. Although it is called "small", it still requires the strength of two adult men to push it.
They lifted the gun barrel out of the box, carefully placed it on the gun mount, and fixed it with iron bolts.
Then take out the Blackfyre medicine from a leather bag and measure it carefully with a measuring cup - too much will explode the chamber, too little will not go far.
The measured gunpowder is poured into the muzzle from a long-handled copper ladle and compacted with a tamper with a long rod.
Then a round wooden bullet holder was inserted, and then a cast iron projectile was inserted, which was larger than a fist. The surface was polished smooth and shiny, reflecting a cold light under the candlelight.
Finally, a fuse soaked in saltpeter was inserted through the small hole in the breech of the gun, and the other end of the fuse hung outside the barrel, like a dry snake.
The man in black robe's movements were skillful and fast, obviously after countless rehearsals.
They are not soldiers, they are the most elite "tools" of Citadel - aliens among bachelors, those who have given up their vocation to cure diseases and spread knowledge and instead study the art of killing.
They wear bachelor's black robes, but never wear the necklace that represents Citadel's highest honor.
They are not recorded in any public registers and are not allowed to appear in any public places.
They are the shadows of Citadel, the last cards those old maesters keep up their sleeves.
These secret weapons should not have appeared here in the first place.
The formula of Blackfyre medicine is locked in the deepest cellar of Citadel. The technology of iron pipe forging is only in the hands of three old craftsmen. The secret of rifling is not even known to most bachelors of Citadel.
These things are Citadel's last resort - not for conquest, not for expansion, but to give Citadel the ability to fight against those things that they cannot fight with knowledge and wisdom in the worst case scenario.
Such as dragon.
The leader of the men in black robes stood in front of the window. The hood of the black robe had been lowered, revealing a face that had been carved by time and knowledge.
His hair is gray, his face is thin, his cheekbones are high, and his eye sockets are sunken, as if he has been out of the sun for many years.
But there was light in his eyes, a sharp, almost paranoid light.
He looked out the window at the approaching golden figure, and his fingers unconsciously rubbed the edge of a black iron box at his waist.
That box was smaller and more delicate than the others, with a polished obsidian inlaid on the surface, and the emblem of Citadel engraved on the stone surface.
"It wasn't supposed to be like this." His voice was low, as if he was talking to himself.
According to the original plan, these weapons were not supposed to be used.
They are trump cards, the last insurance, and exist to intimidate rather than kill.
The old bachelors of Citadel have debated countless times whether all information about Blackfyre medicine should be destroyed.
Should those craftsmen who master the forging process be silenced forever? Should such dangerous weapons be allowed to disappear completely from the world?