Victoria's war airship "Fearless Airship" travels above the clouds.
The silver-white hull glowed softly in the afternoon sun. The golden lion and silver falcon emblems painted on both sides of the hull seemed to come alive in the light. The lion's mane fluttered in the wind, and the falcon's wings spread out in the clouds.
The propeller at the stern of the ship stirred in the air, making a continuous, low buzzing sound like distant thunder. The magic engine under the belly of the ship emitted a light blue light, lifting the entire ship thousands of meters in the air.
This huge steel behemoth is more than 250 meters long, and the distance from bow to stern is enough for a cavalry company to run back and forth in formation on it.
Its shell is covered with thick magic alloy armor, and the surface of the armor is engraved with dense defensive runes. The runes glow with a pale golden light in the sunlight.
The firepower it carries is enough to level a city to the ground, and the destructive power produced when they all fire at the same time is comparable to the Seventh Tier legendary powerhouse.
This is the pinnacle of Victoria's military industry and is the crystallization of the empire's decades of technological accumulation.
Reinhardt stood in front of the porthole of the bridge, with his hands behind his back, his gaze passing through the glass and landing on the sea of clouds that was flying back. He was not looking at the scenery, but thinking about something.
His brows were slightly frowned, and the vertical lines between his brows looked particularly deep in the afternoon sunlight.
A few hours ago, while the airship was traveling, it detected a high-intensity energy reaction approaching rapidly from behind. The speed was so fast that the detector thought the instrument was malfunctioning when he first saw the data.
Reinhardt ordered all muzzles to be pointed in that direction, and the gunner's finger was pressed on the firing device.
Then the light got closer and closer, so close that the gunner could see that it was a human figure - an old man wearing a gray robe and a silver crown, flying thousands of meters in the air at incredible speeds.
Reinhardt recognized him, Tower Mage King--Medici.
The supreme leader of Karelia Empire Tower Mage Corps, one of the only Eighth Tier legendary powerhouses on the mainland.
So Reinhardt sent a message to the other party, inviting him to come and sit on the airship.
Now Medici is standing next to Reinhardt, wearing that iconic gray robe, with a silver crown shining slightly on his forehead.
His hair is all white, but there are not many wrinkles on his face, making him look much younger than his actual age.
Medici was sitting in the guest seat next to the podium, with his hands folded on his knees and his eyes looking straight ahead, with no expression on his face.
His robe was stained with dust during the long journey from Karelia to here, but he just patted the cuffs with his hands and didn't care.
Reinhardt looked at the old man next to him.
A living legend.
He had heard the legend of the other party when he was a child - in the internal journal of Empire Tower Mage Corps, in the ballads sung in the tavern, and in the boastful words of drunken businessmen from the imperial capital.
Some people say that he can control the wind and rain, some say that he can move mountains and reclaim seas, and some say that he once blocked the attack of tens of thousands of troops on the eastern border of the empire by himself.
Eighth Tier's powerful legend, there are only a handful of people in the entire continent who can reach this level.
Possessing the strength to destroy a principality, he is the strongest person except Karelia Empire, Venerable of Ten Thousand Spells.
"His Holiness, are you also here to participate in the competition invited by Vagrian?"
"Yes." Medici nodded.
Reinhardt was silent for a moment.
Before he came, he studied the possible opponents he might encounter - Pegasus of Saint Junxi and Azure Flame Wind-Rending Cavalry of Zalan Khanate are legendary, and now Medici is also a legend.
Among the three legends, Sixth Tier and he couldn't even get the top three. You can't blame him. There aren't many high-level experts in Victoria.
Although it is a mainstream country in mainland China and even has the ability to compete with the Karelia Empire for hegemony, there is only one Duke Iron Nexus in the country who is a serious legendary powerhouse Seventh Tier.
Moreover, he is not good at fighting. He was once privately rated as "the weakest legend". This sentence was removed when Duke Iron Nexus created the legendary power armor.
Victoria relies more on the magic technology developed after the reform. Archon-Type Mecha is produced on the assembly line and can be driven by well-trained ordinary professionals, and has the strength to rival the strong Sixth Tier.
With multiple mechas paired with an airship, it is not difficult to fight a legend. However, in this arena-style 1v1 duel, the airship cannot be used.
Reinhardt You can only rely on yourself.
He sighed in his heart, but didn't show it on his face. It's okay, this time the main focus is on establishing diplomatic relations. Even if Vagrian ignores him, he can still communicate with other countries, such as Karelia.
"Your Majesty, how is your country doing well now?" Reinhardt asked.
Medici was silent for a moment. "No." His voice was not loud. "The nobles and financial groups were so fierce that they almost beat their heads out."
Reinhardt was silent. He originally wanted to say "That's pretty good," but he swallowed the words.
He felt that he was really not good at chatting and was better at commanding the battlefield.
Reinhardt looked away from the porthole and looked at the distant skyline.
A ray of silver light flickered once in the gap in the clouds, then once again, and then a continuous light streak streaked across the distant skyline, so fast that Reinhardt's eyes only caught a silver-white afterimage.
The silver light passed by the starboard side of the airship, so fast that the hull of the airship shook slightly the moment the silver light passed by.
"That's--Pegasus." There was a hint of complicated emotions in Reinhardt's voice.
Medici also looked over. "It's him."
The legendary knight of Saint Junxi, his silver-white armor and silver-white spear are more symbols of awe in the minds of the people of Saint Junxi than the emperor's crown.
Reinhardt's mood is a bit complicated. Victoria was still fighting with Saint Junxi before, and his brains were almost knocked out.
The fleets of both sides faced off on the sea, the armies of both sides fought on the border, and the diplomats of both sides accused each other in the Grand Council.
Victoria once had the upper hand, the fleet broke through Saint Junxi's maritime defense line, and the army advanced to a place only a few days away from the Saint Junxi capital.
Then the storm came, a super storm that swept half of the continent, slamming Victoria's fleet onto the shore and trapping Victoria's army in the mud.
They had to retreat and return to their homeland, facing the port and farmland destroyed by the storm.
Victoria suffered heavy losses and signed a non-aggression treaty with Saint Junxi.
The war is over, there are no winners.
An unknown town. A dirt road leads from the east to the west of the town. The houses on both sides of the road are low and dilapidated, with the walls peeling off to reveal the masonry inside.
A black figure walked slowly from the end of the dirt road. He was wearing a thick black cloak, the edges of the cloak were stained with snow and ice, and the hem dragged on the ground, sweeping up a small piece of dust.
Most of his face was covered by the hood of his cloak, leaving only a pale chin and a pair of extremely pale, almost transparent gray eyes.
The residents of the town are a little strange. Who is this? A foreigner, maybe.
The race of the Vostok Empire is different from that of Karelia and Victoria. Their hair is darker, their eyes are lighter, their cheekbones are higher, and their chins are wider.
The man in the black cloak looked like Vostok. The man in the black cloak ignored their gazes.
He continued walking, from one end of the dirt road to the other, disappearing from the sight of the residents.
Some people rubbed their eyes, suspecting that they had seen it wrong - he was clearly still far away, but why did he disappear in the blink of an eye.
He showed up in a tavern.
The only tavern in the town, with wooden doors, wooden walls, wooden tables and chairs. Firewood was burning in the fireplace, and the flames danced in the hearth, illuminating the room with a warm yellow color.
The air was filled with the smell of cheap tobacco and low-quality ale. Several farmers in thick cotton-padded jackets were sitting around the fireplace, holding wooden wine glasses in their hands.
A man in a black cloak pushed open the door and came in. He took off his hood, revealing a head of gray hair and a face full of wrinkles carved by wind and frost. He didn't look at the farmers and walked straight to the bar.
"Is there a Volga?" His voice was hoarse and low, like a dull knife slowly being dragged on a whetstone.
The boss behind the bar was stunned for a moment. Volga is a kind of spirit in the north of Vostok, brewed from rye and certain herbs that only grow in the tundra.
The alcohol content is high and the taste is strong. Drinking it is like swallowing a mouthful of fire. In small towns in the south, this kind of thing is not easy to find.
"No. But you can try this."
A young man stood up from the corner next to him, holding a bottle of wine in his hand. The bottle was a dark brown glass bottle with no label, and the mouth of the bottle was sealed with wax.
He came over and put the wine bottle on the bar and opened the cap. The aroma of wine overflowed, a deeper, fruity and woody aroma.
The man in a black cloak took it over unceremoniously and took a sip, holding it in his mouth for a moment and then swallowing it.
"Not bad." He put the bottle on the bar and looked at the young man in front of him. The young man was wearing a dark gray short coat with a white shirt underneath.
His hair is dark brown, neatly combed, and his eyes are dark brown.
He looks like a noble from a certain country, or a representative of a large chamber of commerce.
The young man smiled slightly. "Hello, my dear Holy Duke."
The Holy Duke looked at him and said nothing.
"Are you here to participate in that game?" the young man continued, "That's a coincidence, I am too--"
Before he could finish his words, the Holy Duke stretched out his hand. So fast that before the young man's pupils shrank, the hand covered with calluses and frostbite had already appeared in front of him.
The young man's body reacted at that moment - not the brain's instructions, but the body's instinct.
His feet kicked on the wooden floor and his body bounced back so fast that the chair behind him was knocked over and the wine glass rolled off the table and shattered on the floor.
The young man stood more than ten meters away from the bar, his chest heaving violently, and beads of sweat on his forehead dripping down the tip of his nose. His face looked ugly.
"Don't be nervous." The Holy Duke took his hand back, picked up the bottle and took another sip. "Young man, which country are you from?"
"Tuokeluo." The young man's voice was still a little unsteady.
"Hmm - that small country in the south?" Shenggong thought for a while. Tuokeluo is a small country located in the south of the mainland, sandwiched between Karelia and Saint Junxi. It has a small area, a small population, and no resources or specialties worth mentioning.
Its sense of existence is so low that many people will miss it when listing the countries on the mainland.
"Yes." The young man nodded.
"Then you can only come and watch the fun."
"Of course, that's what I thought." The young man's expression had recovered. He picked up the knocked over chair from the ground and sat down next to the bar again.
"Holy Duke, do you think you will win first place?"
"We will win." Shenggong put down the wine bottle.
"If Medici doesn't fight hard."
He has never fought against Medici, but he has seen his fighting records.
That is a person who doesn't like to take risks and doesn't like to take action when the outcome is uncertain.
"What about you?" Sheng Gong looked at the young man.
The young man was stunned for a moment. "Me?"
"What's your name?"
The young man hesitated. "Tuoke--My name is Tuoke."
The Holy Duke glanced at him and did not ask any further questions.
He drank the last sip of wine from the bottle, stood up, and placed the empty bottle on the bar. He swept the hem of his coat on the ground, turned and walked toward the door.
"Holy Duke--" the young man shouted from behind.
The Holy Duke did not look back, he opened the door and walked into the afternoon sunshine.
The young man exhaled and took out from his arms a palm-sized magic object with light blue crystals inlaid on the surface.
The crystal lit up, and the light blue light was almost invisible in the afternoon sunlight, but he knew that it had connected to the other side. He brought the object to his mouth and lowered his voice.
"Sir, I have been in contact with the Holy Duke... nothing unusual.
The commander of Azure Flame Wind-Rending Cavalry is still on the way."
"I understand." The voice from the other side was very low.
The young man was silent for a moment. "But, what is our specific plan?"
There was silence on the other side for a moment.
"Well--you have to ask that golden dragon Caesar."