If Vesalius were the same Vesali as before, of course he would not have been able to see the information about the Holy Sword, and he would not be able to imitate it, but he could now be said to be the closest to Louis XIV among wizards, and his qualifications and power were no less than that of Madame Milady, and he could of course flip through the books and scrolls that had been tightly sealed by the descendants of foreign wizards like him— King Arthur's sword of kings came from the gift of the fairies of the lake, and in human records, it was a two-handed sword with jewels inlaid with a golden hilt and a body made of stainless steel, and its scabbard could protect the king from harm, which King Arthur had lost before suffering irreparable mortal wounds in the war.

Louis XIV stood up and looked at the sword that Vesalius had brought to him, the sword of the king—the records of wizards must have been much clearer than that of humans, with two dragons coiled around the hilts, the dragon's eyes glittering amber, the wings raised high, the scales as small as grains of rice but clearly visible, they bowed their heads meekly in the king's hands like living creatures, the end of which was wrapped around the curved gauntlet that curved upwards, and the silver-white sword was densely covered with ripple-like forging patterns— Although it was a long sword made by the fairy of the lake, this sword dedicated to the last king of the Celts still had the Celtic style of Ang Lang Front, the blade was not very sharp, and even a little blunt, the length exceeded any two-handed sword that Louis XIV had seen before, he thought it weighed considerably, but when he got it, he realized that it weighed about the same as the talisman sword he was most familiar with.

He slashed his sword at random, only to hear a loud thud, and in the direction the blade pointed, the king's favorite mahogany desk was neatly split in half, and fell to the ground along with the ink, paper, and papers.

"There's always going to be something special. Glancing meaningfully into the king's eyes, Vesalius said calmly.

Indeed, it may be convincing to some. Louie put it away, because the scabbard of the King's Sword has the effect of defending against any damage, and everyone knows it, so there is no way for Vesalius and the others to reproduce or forge it, "The wizards of Merlin's time were much stronger than the wizards of today. "But the King's Sword is recorded only as being exceptionally sharp, and King Arthur is said to have carried it in his hand to knock down four hundred and seventy Saxon soldiers besieging him. ”

"It's a pity. Louis said, "I know what you think, and you want me to do something with it—but no, Vesali?" Even if you bring the real Holy Sword? It's just a tasteless chicken rib that is discarded. ”

Vesalius was stunned.

Louis patiently explained: "You may think? Will the British be shaken by the fact that I am holding the relics of King Arthur? At least those Scots have been praying for King Arthur to return to Great Britain, but not to say I'm a Bourbon? Even if King Arthur did return to England from Avalon, would the red-haired Celtic descendants really be willing to re-embrace a king from a thousand years ago? So Charles II? The same goes for King Arthur. He whispered, then looked at Vesalius, "This is the biggest difference between mortals and wizards," he said kindly and coldly, "wizards are still stuck in Merlin's time, but mortals have come far away from you?" What do you hold dear? We have long since abandoned it - if there is any sword of kings that cannot be questioned, look, everyone, my fleet, my artillery? My army, these are my swords and knights. ”

"But your efforts are not in vain. Louis added: "I heard that some English wizards also came to Brittany?" They seem to want to recover the relics left behind by Merlin and King Arthur before we conquer Brittany once and for all. ”

"I'm a little unsure of what you're talking about," Vesalius had been a little pale? Now that he's finally recovered, he should have expected his king to always have something out of the ordinary? And he's always so proud? Since he has not yet been in power? This is the case when there is no power—and he has heard a little about the fact that the Mancini family had intended to keep him in the inner world forever, but was finally persuaded by him—and the head of Mancini must have regretted it later, what a great beast they had released: "If those people had the same idea......

"They may think the same as you," Louis seemed to be amused, "Are they all wizards, it may take another hundred years for wizards to give up the original idea that all wizards must be superior to mortals." ”

Vesalius hesitated, "Your Majesty, may I ask you a question?"

"Speak. ”

"What do you think the wizard will do?"

Louis pondered for a moment, "To put it simply, Vesalius," he said, "wizards are to me like the mortals of Lorraine, Alsace and Brittany, and the Huguenots, branches that need to be pruned, and I don't want you to hinder the growth and reproduction of other plants, but I also don't want your growth and reproduction to be superfluously destroyed, and one day every man of different faith and philosophy in my country will be able to live in peace, and you ought to be the same— Although, given the subtlety of wizards, you may have to be in two dimensions with mortals for a long time, but wait, it will be very soon, and you too will become a ...... Ordinary people. ”

"I don't know whether to be happy or sad to hear you say that," said Vesalius, who had realized that he had made a great mistake before - he had suffered enough in the world, but he was still not immune to its influence, and would think that a forged holy sword could affect the game between countries, as Louis XIV said, it was no longer Merlin's time, and even the Knights of the Round Table and King Arthur were vulnerable in front of muskets and cannons— And the voice of the powerless man is always the weakest, and his arrogance has turned into endless frustration, so that he does not question the king's prophecy: "Do you mean that wizards will become mortals in the future, and that magic will disappear?"

"Magic may not go away," said Louis, "but it is enough if the power of mortals can prevail over magic, just as people today fear the muskets in the hands of soldiers, but not soldiers, and wizards were only civilians with legal weapons, and people have always feared privilege, not some kind of people." ”

"I'm a little curious now," murmured Vesalius, and when the king cast him an inquiring look, he said, "where would the wizards and mortals have gone if you had stayed in Gayola?"

Louie thought for a moment, "I can't be sure, but I don't think it's going to be a good thing." ”

——————

Unbeknownst to Louis and Vesalius, thousands of miles away from them, the same question was being asked.

The Bastille was shrouded in darkness, and the smell of blood crept up from the cold cellars, layer by layer, to the highest point, such as the Tower of London, where the most noble prisoner was held, and there was only one of them, who, or she had a neighbour, was the venerable Duke of York, but since the Duke of York was ransomed by his brother Charles II, there was only one man left.

The biggest regret for the warden is that he can't reveal his identity, unless he wants to dance with the corpse on the gallows. It is consoling to note that this "gentleman" did not give him much trouble, except for leaning against the window, overlooking the Place de la Bastille and the Louvre in the distance, he used books and music to pass the time, and also read newspapers and some letters that had been sent in with permission.

The gentleman was treated in the same way as a duke, and a servant took care of his daily life, and the warden visited him often to inquire if he needed anything—and in general he received a no-shake of his head, and the same was true tonight, and the warden estimated the age of the man, and perhaps "he" would spend the rest of his life here, if the king did not change his mind— The warden was both sorry and glad that he had prepared to leave the correct answer in his memoirs, and that his memoirs would be welcomed by everyone, and even now, many people were curious to inquire about the identity of this distinguished prisoner.

The warden was about to go down the stairs, when the light in front of him suddenly jumped slightly, the candlelight suddenly dimmed and brightened, the warden raised his head, and the iron-like cold cold cut through his cheeks and rushed into his nose, and he also smelled the slight but distinct smell of blood, and his heart tightened suddenly—he was afraid that some prisoner had committed suicide, and this was not uncommon, and there were always one or two madmen who were willing to go to hell rather than continue to be tortured and humiliated here.

Thinking of this, the warden hurriedly raised the candlestick with one hand and the wall with the other, hurried and stumbled down, but before he could take a few steps, he fell out of his feet and fell out defenselessly.

The candle went out, and after a brief groan, there was no sound in the darkness.

An invisible shadow spread out from beneath him, slowly climbing up like a vine, and at the end of the staircase, it was a small circular hall, and there was an open wooden window in the wall, and the white moonlight poured into the wooden window, forming a bright circle on the ground, and the shadow paused here, and rose from the ground, and pointed like a snake at the locked door, and the door opened with a click.

The cell was a suite, outside was a small reception room, the interior was in no way inferior in decoration and furnishings to the room of the master in the Louvre or Versailles, the shadow did not stop, continued to move forward quietly and quickly, through the reception room, opened the door to the dormitory, in which the four-poster bed hung a heavy curtain, it stuck out its "head", its slender tongue spit out into the air, as if sniffing something, and after a few seconds, as if losing its last patience, it jumped up from the ground and jumped straight into the bed!

But there is a rapier that is faster than it!

The Shadow Serpent could be said to have thrown itself into a sharp sword tip, although it was a shadow, it writhed and swayed like a real snake, its body stretched violently, and continued to pounce on its target, but it only bit a velvet mask, and the velvet mask let out a scream that mortals could not hear, and began to roll and dent from the place where it was bitten, and in turn devoured the uninvited guest- But after a few seconds, its color changed from crimson to grayish-white, as if it had been faded by a derelict maid, and fell from the prisoner's face.

Marie Mancini grabbed the mask and swung her sword with a wary look.

"Who?!"

A blue flame leaped out of the darkness and illuminated the faces of the visitor and Marie Mancini.