Miss Wang Weina, even your cousin won't do!

Wayne's eyebrows twitched as he looked at Fyodor, thinking to himself, "Where did you learn Yan language from? How come you speak it so fluently?"

Fortunately, Fyodor's Mandarin was only at this level. After saying that, he reverted to his heavy St. Arthur accent and praised him in fluent Ursus:

“Mr. Wayne, the fact that you can see Ursus’s current state means you’re at least conscious. So I’ll get straight to the point: what do you want from Ursus, and what can you offer it?”

Wayne tilted his head back in surprise.

Is it really that direct? I thought we were going to walk down a red carpet together, listen to the national anthems of Ursus and Victoria, fire dozens of cannon salutes, have lunch together, and then discuss this in detail over afternoon tea.

Hmm? You ask me why I'm so adept at this? Because that's exactly what Victoria does. Small matters are discussed in the office, big matters at afternoon tea parties. Don't laugh, many countries have similar traditions; don't people in Yan also like to chat over meals?

Speaking of which, Wayne remembered another idea about Therese. Should he go back and educate Chairman Therese about hot pot? Maybe one day he'll be able to utter a famous line?

Today, I'm treating everyone to hot pot, _______ (fill in the blank)

He was daydreaming. Wayne snapped back to reality, looked at Fyodor, and smiled:

“Mr. Fyodor, you are too kind. We are friends, and it is only right that we help each other. Victoria knows that Ursus is in a very bad economic situation right now, and I am also eager for Victoria to provide some assistance to your country. But as you know, I am just a prince, and I have Her Majesty the Queen above me. Before I can persuade her, it is indeed difficult for me to do anything for Ursus through official channels…”

Seeing that Fyodor's gaze was gradually dimming, Wayne changed the subject and said:

"But as a friend, I can still help each other out in private."

Private mutual assistance?

Fyodor frowned in confusion, not holding out much hope. Just as Wayne had said, what kind of personal help could a prince like him offer? A few million Victoria gold coins? That might indeed solve Fyodor's immediate problem, but what about afterward?

Not to mention, it was only the first time he met Wayne, why would someone give him millions of Victoria gold coins privately? They're both adults, where would such a windfall come from?

However, with a glimmer of hope, Fyodor still asked:

"What kind of personal help can you offer me?"

Wayne slowly raised five fingers.

“Five hundred thousand?” Fyodor lowered his voice. The figure was delicate, neither too much nor too little. It seemed to fit the pretext of “personal assistance.” Although it was a drop in the ocean for him, it was still a token of Wayne’s goodwill, and Fyodor would certainly accept it. He was also certain that as long as Wayne didn’t make any unreasonable demands, he would agree.

But Wayne waved his hand dismissively:

"No, no, no, I'll offer five million!"

He grinned:

“Your Highness Fyodor may not know, but let me tell you, my identity this time is a bit special.”

He took out the Lateran gold pendant from his pocket, briefly explained its purpose, and then took out the silver pendant that Miss Michael had left behind when she "replenished her mana" before leaving Lungmen, saying:

"I'll put up five million, and Laterano will follow suit with five million!"

Fyodor suddenly realized, and a surge of joy filled his heart. He said:

“I understand. After it’s done, Mr. Wayne’s five million will be returned in full, and we’ll split the Lateran gold coins!”

Everyone knows Laterano is wealthy; the Catholic Church has plundered countless riches over thousands of years. It's said that even the paving stones of the carriage tracks in the holy city of Laterano are made of gold. That Wayne could actually manage to steal money from Laterano was something Fyodor hadn't expected.

While Fyodor was thinking about Laterano, Wayne calmly stated his request:

"I need your help to find someone; this person is mine."

Fyodor raised an eyebrow. Looking for someone? Who?

Who could possibly be worth five million Lateran gold coins?

Wayne glanced at the two translators beside him, thought for a moment, stood up, walked to Fyodor's side, and whispered...

"Your country's Duke, Kosiché!"

Duke of Kosiché?

Fyodor narrowed his eyes. He recognized the man; he was connected to a border army group and was a local warlord. He was also an immortal. From an affiliation perspective, he belonged to the royalist party, but the emperor he was protecting wasn't Fyodor, but the previous emperor, and his expansionist ideology. In a sense, he was one of Fyodor's enemies.

Chapter 138 Applying for World Heritage Status!

Fyodor had to admit that he was tempted.

Duke Koschei, though a duke, wasn't on Fyodor's side. He was merely one of the nobles still slumbering in the vision of a thousand-year empire painted by the late emperor. They disrespected the current emperor, even using their merits to criticize and defy his orders. Fyodor had long disliked such people, and Vayne's offer of a trade—helping him eliminate dissidents while also gaining a large sum of gold and lifting Victoria's economic blockade against Ursus—was undoubtedly a great thing.

But a duke is a duke, and Fyodor cannot arrest him without evidence. Nor can he hand over a national grand duke to a foreign power without proof. Moreover, besides being a duke, Koschei also possesses the identity of an immortal. Within the Ursus Empire, there are many immortals, most of whom live in seclusion in the wilderness and suburbs, avoiding contact with ordinary people. Koschei is a counter-example, actively integrating into the political ecosystem of the Ursus Empire and thriving.

In a way, he was a role model for the Ursus immortals. If Fyodor wanted to take action against him, he had to consider the future impact on the entire Ursus Empire's immortals.

His eyes darted around, and he frowned, feigning deep thought and hesitation, before saying:

"Duke Kosiché, this man... this man is difficult to deal with. What do you need him for?"

Wayne waved his hand: "Don't ask about it. It's a secret. Just like how I managed to get money from Laterano, it's a secret."

Seeing Fyodor's hesitation, Wayne said with a wry smile, "Mr. Fyodor, do you really expect Koschei to help you succeed? He's an immortal, and the most vicious thing about immortals is that even if you can't beat them, you can outlast them! If you're going to do something, you have to go all the way. If you don't cut the weeds at the root, they'll grow back in the spring."

Fyodor pursed his lips and bargained, "If not my duke, who else can I rely on? The Duma Council?"

Wayne laughed and retorted, "A bunch of people in suits arguing in the market?"

Fyodor raised his glass, downed the freshly poured eaux-de-vie in one gulp, and swirled the glass: "I'll have to have a glass of red wine too."

"If you're wearing a suit and holding a wine glass, can you still call it arguing?"

"No, that's called a debate between gentlemen."

Wayne clinked glasses with him, and after a pause, they both said, "High society."

Fyodor put down his cup, shook his head, and said, "If I can't count on the Duke, and I can't count on Duma, then who can I count on?"

Wayne patted his chest, making a loud thud, and said:

"trust me."

He raised his hand, making a gesture of making a comeback:

“Victoria is right here. As long as you agree, we’re on the same side. Then, with a wave of my hand, I’ll get a billion-dollar order from Victoria as a birthday present for Mr. Fyodor!”

Fyodor glared at him: "Ten billion? You're really good at bluffing. Do you think your sister will listen to you?"

Wayne smiled confidently: "She doesn't usually listen to me, that's fine, but I have ways to make her listen to me."

Another empty promise.

This time, however, Fyodor truly couldn't hold back. Although it was a verbal promise, a mere empty promise without any real proof, the amount was still quite astonishing. A conflicted expression appeared on his face, and after a long pause, he finally spoke:

“But this Duke Kosiché is, after all, my duke. If I want to arrest a duke, I need to do so legitimately.”

Wayne chuckled. If it were Victoria, it would be somewhat understandable for him to say that, since he needed to maintain his public image and Vina's authority, and couldn't directly attack a nobleman; he always needed some pretext. But what was Fyodor afraid of?

You're a newly enthroned emperor, and like any new official, you're bound to make a splash. Who you burn doesn't matter, right? The Ursus Empire is already on the verge of collapse anyway, so you might as well take a gamble. If you win, you'll turn the tide; if you lose, you can at least get a map tattooed on your forehead, become the empire's gravedigger, and write your own memoirs. Maybe in a decade or two, someone will even cast you as yourself in a TV series.

"No, you're an emperor, why do you need a legitimate reason to arrest a duke?"

Fyodor frowned, beckoned, and said:

"Have you ever been an emperor?"

Wayne shook his head.

"Come, let me tell you something. To be an emperor, you need to maintain a balance of power, to pull one side and hit the other, to use both carrot and stick. If you give up the interests of the nobles, they will work for you. Afterwards, the profits will be split three-seven."

Wayne felt a strange sense of déjà vu about this statement, but couldn't quite place where he had heard it before, so he could only ask in return:

"How come it's only 70%?"

"Seventy percent belongs to others, and even the remaining thirty percent depends on the whims of the nobles!"

Wayne was startled: "Then I'll be begging on my knees?"

Fyodor sighed: "If that's how it is, being an emperor is like begging on your knees. Otherwise, if the nobles become disloyal to you and run away in their mobile cities, you'll have nowhere to cry. Only you Victoria are rich enough not to have this kind of trouble."

Wayne's lips twitched: "Then what crime do you think would be suitable?"

Fyodor seemed to tacitly agree with Wayne's meaning, stroking his chin thoughtfully for a moment before saying:

"Let's wait a few days. I'll let you know when I've thought it over."

Wayne could only shrug. It wasn't impossible; he hadn't expected to finish the job that day anyway. It was a long-term task. Koschche wasn't easy to deal with. Although Theresa's power theoretically countered his, the immortal Black Serpent, being an immortal being, who knew what other trump cards or methods he might have? The reason Wayne brought this up with Fyodor at Saint-Germain was to indirectly offer Theresa some assistance.

If he can't do it himself, then let the high command of the Ursus Empire handle it. As long as the profits are enough, what's wrong with selling a duke?

“Then I’ll look forward to your good news.” Wayne stood up, shook hands with Fyodor, and looked very happy.

The two of them looked at the translator beside them simultaneously and said:

"Take this negotiation for example. We reached a consensus, achieved good results in cooperation, and have a promising future. Do you understand?"

The translator nodded weakly.

...............

Ursus Tundra, an encampment for infected guerrillas.

Looking into the distance, Theresa could already see camouflage tents faintly visible in the woods, and scouts lurking in various places, still wearing snowsuits. Those warm snowsuits were supplies sent by Victoria.

She took a deep breath, told Jiu and Niyan to stay in the carriage, nodded to Surtr beside her, and led her toward the guerrilla's encampment.

"Please inform your leader Talulah that I am Theresia."

Chapter 139 That's quite a possibility.

Ursus Tundra, a temporary guerrilla outpost, battalion commander.

Theresa watched as Talulah took a wide-mouthed cup, put precious Victoria Darjeeling tea leaves into it, and then haphazardly brewed a cup with hot water before placing it in front of her. There were many things she wanted to say, but she couldn't express them.

That's such a waste!

However, seeing Talulah standing there awkwardly, unsure whether to sit or stand, she probably didn't know how to do something as delicate as making tea. Theresa, who wasn't picky about her taste, politely took a sip and then asked directly:

“Miss Talulah, although this is our first meeting, my husband has mentioned you many times.”

husband?

Talulah was stunned. This young and beautiful Miss Theresia was already married? So the Demon Lord of Sarkaz can get married?

After hearing Kosiché repeat the prophecy he had spoken, her first thought was that Theresa would be some kind of three-headed, six-armed, mighty demon, like Mr. Bochokastie, or perhaps even bigger than Mr. Bochokastie.

When she heard the guerrilla sentry's report and left the camp with a mixture of anticipation and fear to greet the Demon King, she discovered that he was not only not tall, but even somewhat frail. At least among the Sarkaz warriors Talulah knew, he was one of the shortest.

Her thoughts shifted, and she began to think that Theresa might be some kind of ruthless female demon. This was all Chen's fault; back when Talulah was still in Lungmen, Chen was completely obsessed with her martial arts novels. The female demons in those novels, like the "ruthless witch" and the "leader of the cult," all seemed frail and weak, but they were actually ruthless and extremely cunning behind-the-scenes villains.