His voice trembled a little in the wind, but he shouted every word very hard, so hard that he seemed to be using his voice to prove his loyalty.
The secretary who was being left behind by the wyvern behind him also caught up. Hearing the shout of Hermann, he quickly imitated his own city lord and bent down on the back of the wyvern, almost falling off his seat.
The following wyverns carrying followers and guards also arrived one after another, and for a while, shouts of "Caesar, Your Majesty" rang out in the sky.
King Ghidorah nodded. The three heads nodded slightly at the same time. The amplitude was not large, but the meaning of "I understand" was felt by everyone present.
King Ghidorah landed in the city. He didn't pick a place, but randomly chose a fairly large open space. This open space happened to be near the city lord's palace. It was originally a small square. There was a fountain in the center of the square. The fountain pool was covered with moss and the water was turbid. It looked like it hadn't been cleaned for a long time.
When the sole of King Ghidorah's foot landed on the square, the whole ground shook. The water in the fountain pool was splashed out, splashing all over the pigeons beside the pool who had not had time to run away. The pigeons flapped their wings and flew away.
Hermann jumped off the back of the wyvern. Due to being too nervous, his legs softened when he landed, and his knees bent for a moment before he stood up straight. He straightened his hair and collar that were messed up by the wind, and walked quickly towards the golden dragon.
"Hello... respected, great Majesty Caesar." Hermann stopped a certain distance away from King Ghidorah and bent down again.
His voice was steadier than when he was in the sky just now, but his speaking speed was still fast, as if he was afraid that speaking too slowly would delay something.
"Did the news spread so fast?" King Ghidorah was a little curious. He had only flown for an hour or two from the palace, and the city lords in various places had already received the documents.
This efficiency could only be achieved on Earth in previous lives with the help of modern communication technology.
In Vagrian, it depends on the wyvern.
Hermann didn't know what King Ghidorah was thinking. He just answered honestly, "Back to Your Majesty, Senate's documents are being delivered urgently by Winged Dragon. There are transfer stations in every city along the way, day and night."
Sangis, who is in the palace at the moment, is frantically processing documents - drafting, stamping, sealing wax, and delivering them. She uses the most concise and efficient wording on each document to ensure that the recipient can grasp the key points immediately.
She knew that King Ghidorah might inspect his new territory, and the documents must be delivered to the city lords everywhere before he arrived, otherwise there might be an embarrassing situation where "the city lords don't know who the new emperor is and treat the emperor as an intruder."
King Ghidorah didn't know how busy Sangis was in the palace. He just stood in the square and looked around with his three heads. The square was not big and was surrounded by a circle of three or four-story stone buildings. The walls were painted with white ash and the roofs were paved with red tiles.
The style of the buildings was similar to what he saw in the capital, but it was more compact and not as open and open as the capital. There was a wide main road in the distance, paved with flat stone slabs. There were many shops on both sides of the street, and it was very lively with people coming and going.
"Tell me, what city is this?" King Ghidorah asked.
Hermann hurriedly stepped forward. "Back to Your Majesty, this is Gerlen City. One of the most important hub cities in the eastern part of the empire, connecting many important passages in the east, south and north of the empire.
From Gerlen City, you can go east to the eastern border mines; to the south, you can reach the coastal trade port; to the west, you can reach the capital Valerilus City. The central node of the Wyvern transportation network is also located here, and more than half of the empire's air transportation passes through Gerlen City."
Oh. King Ghidorah's three big heads nodded slightly, and its six vertical pupils paused on Hermann for a moment, then moved away and continued to look around.
King Ghidorah Listening, the three heads turned slightly.
He actually didn't listen much. In his eyes, there was no difference between Gerlen City and the capital Valerilus City.
There is no special reason for him to come here. He is just "seeing his own country." Just like a man who buys a new house, he will walk around it, look at every room, touch the walls, try the doors and windows - to make sure it belongs to him.
That's all.
"Okay." King Ghidorah nodded his head in the middle. Olus was stunned. His report had just begun. There was still a lot of content - economic data, military deployment, population structure - but these were not used.
Lufuna and the curator have entered the inner city of Gerlen City.
There is a low wall between the inner city and the outer city. It is not high and only reaches the shoulders of an adult. It is more like a boundary mark than a fortification. Moss and weeds have grown in the stone gaps of the low wall. There are several old people sunbathing under the wall.
Lufuna When passing under the low wall, I couldn't help but look back in the direction of the city wall. The outer city was still there, lively and noisy, full of the sound of bargaining and the sound of horse hooves.
The inner city is much quieter, the streets are wider, the buildings are more regular, and the pedestrians on the road are more decently dressed.
She looked at the city in front of her and sighed again.
"Do you still care about those books?" The curator's voice came from behind her, gentle, with a hint of understanding smile. Lufuna did not look back, but just said "hmm" softly.
"It's okay. I'll get it again when I have the chance." The curator walked up to her and walked side by side with her. His hand stretched out from the sleeve of his robe, holding an iron key in his hand.
He handed over the key. "There is a small house there. You can live there first. It's not far from here and the environment is quite quiet. The house is not big, but it is enough for one person to live in."
Lufuna took the key and weighed it in his hand. It was heavy.
"I have to go back to my family," the curator said.
He didn't say "go home", he said "go back to my family".
Lufuna doesn't know where the curator's family comes from. She only knows that the curator's last name seems to have a lot of weight in the Vagrian Empire, but what is the specific weight?
"Okay. Thank you."
The curator nodded. He did not say "you're welcome" again, but stood there quietly, watching Lufuna put the key into his pocket.
Something flew over from the sky.
It's not a wyvern. A wyvern doesn't fly that fast.
A huge, golden shadow slid across the sky, much faster than Hermann's wyvern, so fast that people on the ground didn't even have time to raise their heads before the shadow had already slipped past.
When people raised their heads, they only saw a blurry, golden, receding outline.
The crowd began to commotion. It was not panic, but surprise. In the city of the Vagrian Empire, dragons are not a rare thing. Red Dragon Emperor occasionally flies over the city, although it is not frequent.
The dragon princes also have their own territories, and occasionally pass over the city when they come to the capital for business; the Lord Protector has his own flight route and never passes through densely populated areas.
So when people see the shadow of a dragon, they don't scream and run around. They just raise their heads, squint, put their hands on their foreheads to block the sun, and identify who is flying in the sky.
No one recognizes the one in the sky today.
"Is it His Majesty the Emperor?" A middle-aged dragon-born man with short horns on his head raised his head, squinted his eyes, and tried hard to identify the golden outline that was going away.
"No, Your Majesty is a red dragon." The woman next to him said. She was holding a child in her arms, and the child also raised its head and opened its mouth into a small "O" shape.
"Which dragon is that? I've never seen such a big one."
"Could it be..."
"What is it?"
"I don't know."
Discussions in the crowd continued one after another. No one came to a conclusion, and no one cared about the conclusion.
Anyway, the dragon is the ruler of the empire. No matter which dragon is the emperor, life will be the same. Taxes will not be less, bread will not be cheaper, life will not be better, nor will it be more difficult.
Lufuna stood at the edge of the crowd, raising her head. The golden shadow slid over her head, so fast that the shadow had passed before she could tell what it was. But she recognized the outline.
With three heads, golden scales, and a body larger than the palace, it is the one in the capital.
Is it here too?
Lufuna lowered his head and subconsciously turned to look around him. The curator had walked far away without knowing when, leaving only the taciturn man following him. Their figures gradually became smaller, turned, and disappeared in the narrow streets of the inner city.
Walking so fast. Lufuna looked away and looked down at the cold copper key in his hand. Okay, let's go there and take a look first.
The curator took the taciturn man into a narrow alley. The alley was so narrow that it was difficult for two people to walk side by side.
The walls on both sides are very high, blocking out most of the sunlight. The alley is cool and humid, and there is a faint smell in the air, like something slowly fermenting.
At the end of the alley is a wooden door. The wooden door is dark brown, with fine cracks on its surface eroded by time and rain.
The curator took off a bunch of keys from his waist, picked one out, inserted it into the keyhole, and turned it twice. The door opened with a long creaking sound, like a sigh.
Behind the door is a small room, but it is well decorated. The floor is covered with dark brown wooden floors, which have been polished very brightly; the walls are covered with light beige wallpaper with dark patterns; a copper chandelier hangs in the center of the ceiling, and the candles on the chandelier are not lit.
Someone was already there. A man in white robe stood in front of the window, his back turned to them. His white robe had a slight, pearl-like luster in the light leaking in from the window.
He was looking out the window, not knowing what he was looking at. The curator walked into the room, and he followed behind him and closed the door. The sound of the doorbell ringing was particularly clear in the quiet room.
The man in white robe turned around and nodded towards the curator.
The curator walked to the round table, placed the canvas bag he was carrying on the table, untied it, and took out the items inside one by one.
Several thick old books with worn covers, blurred titles, and yellowed and brittle pages. Several rolls of parchment tied with ribbons, with signs of being soaked in water on the edges. An old notebook with the Vagrian National Academy badge printed on the cover.
There are also a few small objects - an engraved stone tablet, a rusty copper coin, and a palm-sized small clay pot sealed with wax.
The curator put these things on the table one by one and arranged them neatly, as if setting up a small exhibition open to only one person.
"The emperor is here, why?" The curator looked at the man in white robe.
"I don't know. Maybe the new emperor wants to see his own country." The man in white robe walked to the round table, picked up the old book, flipped through a few pages, and then put it down.
His movements were very light and careful, as if he were touching something fragile and precious.
The curator sighed. "It's really not a good thing to cooperate with you."
The man in white robe raised his head. "Why? We are not like those crazy people from Destruction and Revelation Society." There was a hint of smile in his voice.
"But you have touched some people's interests." The curator pushed the notebook in the direction of the man in white robe.
The man in white robe was silent for a moment. "Really? It doesn't matter. For the sake of this world, it's okay."
The curator looked at him, into those gray eyes that did not dodge or hesitate, and were as calm as a pool of stagnant water.
He remembered that when Silence Society came to his door for the first time many years ago, the other party looked at him with this look. Over the years, he had met countless members of Silence Society.
Their looks, accents, and backgrounds are all different, but they have the same look in their eyes, the kind of look that says "I know what I'm doing, and I don't need your approval," and is unswayed by any external judgment.
When he saw this look, he knew that he was not dealing with a group of lunatics, nor was he dealing with a group of saints. He was dealing with a group of people who believed that they were doing something that had to be done by someone, and they happened to be capable of doing it.
This kind of people are the most difficult to deal with because they are not afraid of death, scolding, or being misunderstood, and they have a lot of patience.
"No need to talk nonsense. All the information I have collected over the years is here." The curator took out a key from his arms and put it on the table.
The key was much larger than the one Lufuna, with rust on the surface, and the tooth pattern had been worn very shallow. He nodded towards an iron cabinet in the corner. The cabinet was not big, about half a person tall, and there was a similarly rusty copper lock hanging on the door.
The man in white robe did not pick up the key immediately. He just looked at the key that looked particularly lonely under the dim light, then stretched out his hand and held the key in his palm.
"Thank you for your efforts." The man in white robe stood up and bowed slightly, "Silence Society, I will always remember you."
The curator did not stand up, but leaned on the back of his chair and looked at the ceiling.
There was a crack on the ceiling, extending from the corner of the wall to the position of the chandelier, with some yellowing on both sides of the crack. He had been looking at this crack for many years, and he would continue to look at it in the future.
"There's no need to remember it. Just fix the world."