"Beloved, don't avenge yourselves but give in and let the Lord's wrath be. For it is written, The Lord saith, 'I am venged.' I will recompense, and thou shalt not be overcome by evil, but over evil with good...... ”

In the midst of the bustling crowd at Austerlitz station, a priest in a shabby black robe with a cross on his chest muttered to himself into the void.

Perhaps it was because he had traveled too long before he came to Paris, he was covered in mud and dust, and his clothes were already tattered, spreading like branches on his thin torso, and the smell was even more unpleasant.

However, on his pale face, there was clearly a kind of ascetic self-satisfaction, as if all suffering was just a small bump in the way he threw himself into the arms of the Lord.

The priest stood still, watching the train flow out of it.

The city, the railway hub of the empire, had several stations, just south of the city of Paris. Although it is only one of the stations, the ceiling of the station is heavily lit, so it is very bright. The station's main building is a boxy, four-storey building, with a bright white exterior made of carefully selected marble, and a busy scene of passengers shuttling back and forth in the middle of the corridor.

And at the top of the main building, a huge minaret stands on it, on the front of the minaret is a huge clock, used to tell the time to travelers from all directions, on the front of the clock tower, is an N-shaped letter representing Napoleon, at the top of the letter is inscribed a crown, this coat of arms and the name Austerlitz, are unabashedly showing off the glory of the emperor, showing off the glory of the empire.

And at the top of the minaret, the imperial eagle emblem inlaid with precious stones sparkles, refracting psychedelic light in the sunlight and generously falling on the head of every passing traveler.

From a distance, this clock tower stands in the air like an obelisk, which is both beautiful and full of compelling momentum. In order to reflect the power of the empire to dominate all corners of France, the government desperately showed off the power and wealth of the empire on these landmarks, and in the witness of the clock tower, trains with black and white smoke roared along the tracks, so that the entire station was plunged into a fog of confusion, like an illusion.

In the roar of the whistle, he let out a final sigh to the people, like thunder in the sky.

"Repent!"

Naturally, the hurried bystanders avoided this priest who appeared out of nowhere, and no one was interested in looking at him more, whether he was a saint or not, in short, he was a poor man who people could not avoid, or a plague god.

After decades of ups and downs after the Revolution, the country has nominally embraced Catholicism as its spiritual pillar, but the winds of pleasure have long since eroded the whole nation, and no one has obeyed the Lord's commandments except for superficial piety, and many people have not even bothered to disguise piety.

In this glorious city, no one cares what you believe in or what bloodline you have, only how much wealth you have, everyone believes that as long as a person is rich enough, money can pave the way to heaven after all.

This is Paris, the brightest and most depraved city in Europe, a temple of light, a crucible of hell, from the princes and nobles to the common people, all vying for pleasure as if the end of the world would come tomorrow.

As a new train stopped in the middle of the station, several people stepped out of the first class compartment of the train.

Although they blended in with this crowd of people who were blinded by desire, their outfits and their expressions and demeanors clearly distinguished them from this group of busy mediocre people.

Walking in front was a middle-aged man in a black jacket, a velvet top hat on his head, and a cherry wood cane in his hand.

He was tall and athletic, with a steady gait and a largely uniform cadence, his cane striking a fine drum on the ground, showing his alert and calm character, and his clothes were so well cut that connoisseurs could tell at a glance that they were from a famous man and were of great value. And he looked forward to the fact that there was no one among them, and that demeanor seemed to be accustomed to dominating others since childhood, and taking the obedience of others for granted, so that he did not appear arrogant.

The only thing that made his image stand out was his overly pale complexion, his face was so white that it was like a ghost in a cloak, and I am afraid that only a man who has not seen the light of day and has never worked for many years can have such a bloodless complexion.

He walked forward unhurriedly, as if by magic, and the people next to him gave way to him, followed by a respectful middle-aged man, and behind him, a group of uniformed attendants, holding a large pile of suitcases.

What kind of foreign dignitaries are coming to Paris?

Some of the nosy idlers began to look sideways, whispering, guessing the identity of the visitor, but the group remained unmoved, and walked out of the platform in a huddle.

"The smell of desire fills the air, I can smell it." At the moment of leaving the platform, the butler beside the noble man whispered to the silent master, "It looks glamorous, but in fact it looks like a desert." ”

"You've got a pretty good nose." The noble man looked ahead and replied calmly.

This group of strange visitors quickly attracted the attention of the station management.

No sooner had they stepped off the platform and into the wide corridor than several policemen approached them.

"Sir, please wait a minute. We're going to check your documents. ”

The nobleman stopped, but only turned his face slightly and gestured to the people next to him, as if he didn't care to talk to these ordinary soldiers.

"Good afternoon, gentlemen." The prepared butler bowed slightly to greet the policemen, and then took out a few passports from the briefcase he was holding and handed them over. "At the invitation of the Government of your country, I have come to France with my master...... Just arrived in Paris today. ”

"The government?" The officers looked at each other, and then their attitudes became more polite.

They carefully took their passports and looked at them carefully, "Uh...... The Count of Monte Cristo? ”

"Yes, my master—the Count of Monte Cristo." The middle-aged man bent even deeper and pointed at the pale middle-aged man, "And the contemptible man is his butler and servant, Bertuccio." ”

"Is there a place?" The policemen looked at each other, and no one had heard of Monte Cristo.

But in any case, they have already affirmed, it must be a nobleman, and there is no problem with his passport and supporting documents.

At this moment, a group of soldiers in bright and ornate uniforms appeared at the entrance of the cloister, and then walked forward step by step. They were all on their toes, as if nothing in front of them could stop them.

"The Praetorian Guard, it's someone from the palace." The policemen muttered quietly, then hurriedly returned the passport and documents to the count, and hurriedly prepared to leave.

They don't dare to get in the way here and block the way of this group of masters.

To their consternation, a commotion suddenly rang out in the crowd. Soon, at the urging of the soldiers, the crowd was split into two sides, making way for the middle passage.

Then, with a slight tremor of the masonry floor, a huge carriage was pulled by four white horses and galloped towards it. These are horses of the same height as horses, and they look like finely selected horses, with white manes and jewels in the saddle, making them sparkle in the sun, like mythical beasts. Likewise, their hooves and neighing sounds are in perfect rhythm and have clearly been trained to the most rigorous of times.

Following the path opened by the soldiers, the carriage came to the cloister with a loud roar, and then slowly stopped.

In order to facilitate the use of special trains by His Majesty the Emperor and members of the royal family, these stations in Paris were specially designed at the beginning of the design, and a special passage was set up next to the corridor leading to the platform, where the royal carriages could come directly to the platform without hindrance, which could not only save the fatigue of the royal family, but also allow them to maintain the dignity of the royal family and not get too close to those ordinary passengers.

And now, this galloping carriage is using this special passage.

The wooden carriages of the carriage are carved with many fine wisps, and the doors of the carriages are also engraved with the insignia of Bonaparte. The charioteer, who sat in the driver's seat, wore a red uniform with a wig on his head, and the gold buttons of the uniform were also engraved with the ins of the court.

Obviously, this is the hand of the palace.

After seeing this scene, the onlookers from afar whispered, and even the most lonely citizens knew that there was now a distinguished guest from the kingdom. Which foreign dignitary is visiting and I haven't heard the news before? Is something big about to happen?

Under the watchful eyes of the police and the passengers, the carriage stopped in front of the group of visitors.

When the carriage had stopped, the door opened, and a middle-aged man stepped out of the carriage, and finally stood in front of the Count.

The young man moved lightly and solemnly, dressed in a delicate court dress, the golden distribution was meticulously combed, the dress was both fashionable and meticulous, and the smile on his face was even more pleasant to the spring breeze, only a person accustomed to flattery would have such a professional smile.

"Welcome to the capital of the country, Your Excellency the Count of Monte Cristo." He bowed to the middle-aged man with a smile on his face, "I am the Count de Dielion, the court clerk of His Majesty the Emperor, and on behalf of His Majesty Napoleon II, I welcome you to the capital of the country, and I will greet you with great respect, and he very much hopes to receive you as soon as possible." ”

Although the middle-aged man was so respectful and courteous, the count's expression remained calm, as if the so-called court did not have much pressure on him.

Under the gaze of the people, he unhurriedly took the gold pocket watch from his coat pocket, fixed the moment, and then nodded to His Majesty's court clerk.

"I am honored to receive your majesty's love."

"Please follow me." The Count of Dilier did not react to the strange behavior of the Count of Monte Cristo, still looking at each other with a smile on his face, and made a gesture to the open carriage.

"We will take you to Fontainebleau in a moment, where you will rest for the night, and your Majesty will receive you tomorrow afternoon."

"I heard there's going to be a celebration tomorrow?" The Count asked casually.

"Yes, tomorrow His Majesty will personally honour Marshal Fernand de Marsève." The clerk nodded.

Of course he couldn't see it, but the visitor from afar, when he heard the name, suddenly clenched his pocket watch, and he was so hard that he seemed to be able to pinch the poor little thing with one hand.

Malcev, Tangral, Villefort...... For many sleepless nights, the names swirled in his mind, and he watched them rise from the gloomy corners as they rose to the top of glory, just thinking about them. His blood was already boiling.

"yes, great, congratulations."

The Count took a deep breath, then bowed slightly to the void in front of him.

"My friends, I'm coming." He said in a volume that he could only hear.

Then he took a step and stepped into the carriage that would take him to Fontainebleau.

The carriage rumbles forward, and a story begins.