After the two sides informed each other of each other's strengths, the discussion soon turned into a one-sided speech by Luga, and Aetius sat opposite Luga without saying a word. There is no way, in the face of the huge difference in strength, Aetius has lost the right to speak, although he is also a courtier of the Roman Empire, but the difference in internal competition has suppressed Aetius.

Everything seemed to be going well, but when the meeting was about the plan of the operation, the two sides disagreed.

The Eastern Empire represented by Luga planned to directly use siege engines and powerful attacking armies in one fell swoop in the face of its absolute strength, and planned to imitate the way of Scipio the Younger, and use land and sea strikes to completely destroy the Vandals in Carthage. In this way, although there will be fierce resistance from the Vandals, there will be many uncertain casualties in it.

However, on the side of Aetius, he thought that he should first seize Mauritania and Caesarea, two provinces adjacent to Iberia, except for the province of Africa, so as to completely block the retreat of the Vandals, so that the Vandals had no other place to escape. In this way, the strength of the Vandals is weakened layer by layer, and then the Vandals are completely exterminated. This method is very thorough, but it is too long to guarantee what decision the Vandals will make after conquering those two provinces, and perhaps move to the east, if they enter the territory of the Eastern Empire, it is difficult to say to anyone. No one, including Luga, dared to take such a big risk.

"Lord Luga!" After discussing for a long time, he couldn't come up with an accurate idea, and at this time, Aetius actually stopped Luga, and saw him say slowly: "Your Excellency should not have forgotten the 10,000 recruits in my hands now!" ”

"Your Excellency." Lu Jia smiled and said, "I know what Your Excellency means, you just want to train those 10,000 soldiers for your use. But they don't understand anything, and if they just take it up, they can only be cannon fodder. Of course, we have enough weapons and equipment to arm them, say, Lord Aetius, how long will it take you to train these soldiers? ”

"Two months!" Aetius stretched out two fingers and said to Luga, "If Your Excellency is patient enough, I will spend these two months training these ten thousand recruits and reorganizing the ten thousand mercenaries that have been hired. I pray for your patience so that I can accomplish these things. ”

Being treated by such a courtesy by the most powerful in the Western Empire, Lu Jia was naturally full of vanity, after all, they had their own difficulties, and he now had to solve the problems of the army from the Eastern Empire who were not adapted to the soil or other logistical support. It would also take a lot of time, so Luga had to accede to Aetius's request and promise him plenty of time.

At the same time, in a Roman village in the southwestern part of the province of Pannonia in the northeastern part of the Western Empire. As night fell, the village was not as quiet as usual, and the flames engulfed the houses of the village, large and small, and the villagers fled in the flames.

War horses, hundreds of war horses in the midst of fire and chaos, shuttling, horsemen armed with bows and arrows and torches, they roared, set fire to houses with torches, and shot villagers with bows and arrows.

"Me, my lord!"

The old village chief fell to his knees, his body staggered, huddled on the ground and shivering, his clothes stained with mud and blood, and his dusty and wrinkled face stained with tears, which were slowly flowing down his wrinkles. In front of him, two horses' hooves slowly appeared in the firelight, and then upward, the eyes that were still so bright in the night.

"Ah, half, centaur, Huns, Huns!" The mere sight of the horses' hooves frightened the old village chief aroused his primal fear. It was simply a matter of fear of the Huns, who plundered the village, food, clothing, young men and women, as long as the village could use the resources, the Huns would plunder it.

On the scorched earth, only the old village chief knelt among the ruins, and the Hun cavalry pulled a loaded wagon and a wailing man and woman slowly passed by him. He was in tears, but he was helpless, begging for mercy? When has humanity ever fought the tears of demons? Not to mention sympathy, which is useless and in vain.

I don't know where the courage came from, the old village chief wiped his cuffs violently, and he looked up, he saw a scene he had never seen in his life.

A black warhorse, like the mount of the Grim Reaper, its black fur blending with the night, and the surrounding firelight could only illuminate its black fur but not all of it. There was also the half-figure on horseback in the firelight, the one wrapped in wolf skin, with a flat facial expression and small eyes, but few people dared to look at it, afraid that the gaze could kill people! The horseback seemed to be his throne, and he dwelled on it to look down on all beings like a king, though more often than not, the old, shivering old man. His right leg was crossed, and his right hand naturally hung down in the crook of his right leg, as if that would make him feel more comfortable, and he did not say a word, motionless on horseback, like a statue.

Soon, a heavily armed samurai approached, not very tall, the burning flames reflecting his yellow skin, jet-black armor, and the deep ravine-like scar on his cheek. He was very careful and unhurried step by step, leaning forward, holding a golden crown made of gold all over the body, with a huge gem set on the front and back, left and right. And it is connected by small gemstone inlays, which looks extremely luxurious, and is by no means ordinary ordinary products.

The warrior raised his crown above his head and respectfully came to the man on horseback. He spoke, his voice loud, but he didn't know what he was saying, probably in their language.

The man on horseback didn't say anything, just nodded, pronounced it nasally, and gave a dull "hum" as if he had promised.

The guard then held the crown and came to the front of the old village chief, pulled out the scimitar he carried with him with a "brush", gently put the blade on the old man's neck, and raised his chin little by little, so that the old man with teary eyes had to meet his eyes like a hungry wolf, and had to face the deepest fear in the old man's heart!

"Tell me! This, where did it come from! ”

The unfamiliar Latin sounds a little awkward, but the slightly hoarse that comes out of that mouth is extremely vicious.

The old man shuddered at the sound of the voice, and he could no longer answer what he wanted to answer in words, but shook his head, and his lips trembled and repeated: "God, help me, God, help me!" ”

The old man's head shook his head, which meant that there was an answer, although it did not satisfy those people.

"You, refused, answered!" The sword-wielding man smiled fiercely, and he took a step and walked slowly past the old man.

"No one, can, deceive, our King!"

"Click..."

The moving body drove the sharp blade, and it was also unhurried, pulling the neck of the old man whose face was full of fear. Soon, he convulsed and fell to the ground, a steady stream of blood staining the ground and merging with the scorched earth around him.

The warrior took advantage of the old man's blood, and he crouched down and grabbed the old man's head, lifted it, and placed the crown under his bleeding neck, allowing the blood to stain the crown red.

He held the bleeding crown and presented it to the king on horseback, and in the light of the fire the man finally showed his yellow teeth, indicating that he was now very satisfied.

He grabbed the crown with one hand, and unhurriedly held it in both hands and slowly put it on top of his head, letting the blood from the crown run across his face, making him look more like a demon from hell.

The soldiers gathered around him and raised their weapons in cheers, and they were shouting a name: "Attila, Attila, Attila!" ”