The doctor suffers from amnesia, but not complete amnesia.

"There is no unified national government there. Instead, there are the territories of various dukes. Therefore, we must make corresponding preparations for each duke and be careful not to be impolite in our words and deeds."

"Understood, no problem."

"Once you arrive, speak as little as possible. No matter what happens, remember to stay under the protection of the Imperial Guards. Apart from that, unless the sky falls and you are trying to escape, do nothing else—leave all the main negotiations to me."

"Great!"

Qiao Yelan: ?

"Ahem, I mean, no problem."

The Vice Minister of the Court of State Ceremonial coughed awkwardly. It wasn't good to expose his attempt to slack off so obviously in front of his superior.

"Then go and prepare, and make sure you get my message across."

"No problem, sir. You can go ahead and do what His Majesty has ordered. I will keep a close watch on things inside."

Shaoqing patted his chest and assured him.

The Great Yan delegation soon embarked on its journey again.

Because the mission started from Lateran, the first duchy the mission visited was not the Duchy of Windermere, which bordered Victoria to the west and had the largest border with Letania, but the Grand Duchy of Normandy, which was located in the south and was once part of Gaul.

Then came the usual dinner time.

Previously in Letania, the entire city was in ruins and needed rebuilding, so the banquet the delegation attended, although somewhat meager, was attended by mostly young people who talked about an optimistic future.

In Laterano, the most peaceful place on the continent, the Sarkaz's desserts and ability to jump between topics actually attracted more attention.

And tonight's banquet...

The lavish restaurant architecture, the dazzling array of fine wines and food, the extravagant and luxurious clothing and jewelry—

The Vice Minister of the Court of State Ceremonial picked up a glass of sparkling wine with a sigh.

It's perfect, finally it's perfect.

This is what a stereotypical aristocratic dinner party tastes like!

He glanced at his superior out of the corner of his eye, and sure enough, after the Grand Duke of Normandy's dissolute performance, the man was once again pushed by the taciturn guard to a dark and secluded corner.

My boss went to work overtime again.

His smile became more genuine as he continued his pointless, evasive exchanges with the nobles before him.

Let's get started!

---------------------------------------------------------

"It's been so many years. You actually went from Ursus to Great Yan and even became the Vice Minister of Rites."

"The emperor I served is no longer here, so there is no need for me to stay."

Qiao Yelan's words made the other person pause for a moment, then reveal a bitter smile.

"...You're right, we're all just stray dogs who have lost His Majesty now."

Grand Duke Emmanuel of Normandy sighed softly.

"Speaking of which, I used to laugh at you, saying that you always insisted that someone whose fate was unknown was alive—now look what happened, I watched my emperor die in pain with my own eyes, and now I can't even fool myself anymore."

Qiao Yelan laughed self-deprecatingly.

"Emperor Vladimir... What a pity. After His Majesty the Corsican Emperor, he was the only one who had a chance to sweep across the Western countries again—but he still failed to do so."

“We used to fight to the death on the battlefield, but now we’re sitting here talking about the emperors we’re loyal to. Fate is truly indescribable.”

Emmanuel picked up a bottle of wine and gulped it down.

"You're not coming?"

"I never drink."

“Yes, you never drink—but I can’t not drink. If I don’t drink, I’ll remember what happened that day.”

The Grand Duke of Normandy stared intently at Qiao Yelan.

"Why was I so stupid—stupid enough to be lured away from the main battlefield by the Letanians, which led to the Gallic airship legion being crushed by Wellington's high-speed fleet, ultimately causing His Majesty the Emperor to lose that war."

Qiao Yelan did not answer, and Emmanuel did not need to answer.

He was already asleep, but when he woke up, he was tormented again and again.

A long silence followed until Emmanuel finished the bottle of wine.

"I still want to thank you. Although I wanted to tear you to pieces back then, in the end, we lost the war, not were stabbed to death. On the contrary, that is the basis for my cooperation with you."

"I thought you had such a high level of political acumen back then, but it turns out it was because of this?"

"I had absolutely no political sense back then. If you hadn't come to me, I would still be leading my remaining troops in guerrilla warfare. I'm a soldier, how would I know any of that bullshit civil service rule? What's this talk about surrendering and losing half the battle? In my eyes, surrendering is losing!"

He threw the bottle in his hand, and it landed on the thick carpet with a dull thud.

"Although they needed a prestigious former Gaul to sit on the newly established duchy for the sake of ruling Gaul and to avoid being distracted by the constant uprisings, those Victorians never trusted me."

"They even made a law for me, saying I'm not allowed to enter Lontinim? That's hilarious! Who wants to go to your damn capital? — But now it's all the same, now everyone's the same, nobody's allowed into Lontinim! Hahahahahahahahaha!"

He burst into wild laughter while slapping the armrest of the sofa.

"In the Battle of the Four Emperors, of the four emperors, only my emperor died on the battlefield. Of the other emperors, your emperor died in his sickbed, Herhun Zoren died at the hands of an assassin, and the most ridiculous ones were those Victorians—they strangled their own emperor with their own hands."

Emmanuel wiped away the tears of laughter from the corners of his eyes; clearly, he rarely felt able to let loose like this.

"So it seems our deal can continue?"

"Of course! Why not? It was thanks to you that I was able to feed the already ragged Gauls, and that I was able to revitalize this land that had been destroyed by war—not to mention, you also let me watch a great show in Londinium!"

Emmanuel picked up another bottle of champagne, shook it vigorously, and popped the cork off in a victory-celebrating manner.

“Victoria’s history as a nation has ended. Both Dragon and Aslan are dead and their bodies have been lost. The blood feud of Gaul has been avenged, but my own has not yet been avenged.”

"Laetonia? The Witch King is dead, who are you going to seek revenge on?"

"Hmph, I do dislike Letania, and I've been clashing with them for years, but my grudge is with someone else."

He clutched the champagne glass that was still bubbling, his eyes fixed intently on the map.

"Vladimir, Khrushchev, they're both dead, but there's one person who's still alive—"

Qiao Yelan knew who he was talking about.

The Iron Duke of Victoria, the master of the high-speed fleet, and the most outstanding warship commander.

The Duke of Wellington.

“I will kill him—no, I will not kill him, I will destroy his fleet, burn his palaces, and ravage his people!”

He muttered through gritted teeth.

"Didn't he say that the keel of his flagship was the keel of Fontainebleau, the former capital of Gaul and a mobile city? Very well, I'm going to pull out that keel again, hang it on it, and parade it around the entire Victoria—until he dies, until I die, until the last person willing to carry out my orders dies!"

The roar was deafening.

"Qiao Yelan, I don't care who you are loyal to now, nor do I care what your purpose is, but as long as your reasons for using me haven't changed, then I will not betray our contract."

He revealed a chilling, cold smile.

"As long as I can fight Wellington again, I will give you everything else."

Chapter 107 Squeezing out the remaining value to the extreme

"You should know that my cooperation with you is not for good purposes, right?"

Qiao Yelan asked very frankly.

"I should be scared if you are really sincere about discussing cooperation with me."

The Duke of Normandy answered very seriously.

"Then there's no need for us to beat around the bush when we talk—are you planning to rebuild Gaul?"

"The Gauls have disappeared, that is a fact I am very certain of—I have seen many people who talk about restoring their country, dressed in all sorts of clothes and wearing all sorts of crowns, but in reality, they are nothing more than scoundrels who use this slogan to exploit the property of their former compatriots."

Emmanuel leaned back on the sofa, staring blankly at the magnificent chandelier on the dome.

"Those who truly wanted to restore their country had all died within ten years of the war's end—this is the first time I've suddenly felt a bit of admiration for the Sarkaz. Their country was destroyed even before the Terran calendar was recorded, yet many Sarkaz still hope to return to Kazdel and rebuild their country."

"So, even you're planning to give up?"

Qiao Yelan countered with a question.

“I did not give up, but I am just a soldier, I have no ability to rule a country, and as a Gaul who was enfeoffed by Victoria, I am the traitor in their eyes.”

Emmanuel didn't look at Qiao Yelan, but just asked the question to himself.

Do you know how many assassination attempts I've survived?

"Hmm, twenty times?"

"That was the amount I received in the first three years after I was knighted as Grand Duke of Normandy."

The old man chuckled.

"And I, in order to prevent Victoria from discovering anything and having them arrest me before I could rebuild my army, and send me to Londinium to be hanged—I killed every assassin."

"When I finally cleared out all the Victorian spies around me and was finally able to secretly protect the assassins who came to kill me—no one came to assassinate me anymore."