Innsbruck, Serestirol, 2:45 p.m.

Located in the heart of the Alps, Innsbruck is a famous tourist destination, a city on the edge of the Inn River, which was once ruled by the Habsburgs, and with the decline of the Habsburgs, the city at the crossroads between the mountains in the east-west valley of Bregenz-Vendogbona and the north-south artery of the Brenne Pass, fell into the hands of Serres. The area is famous for its snow-capped mountains and its many exquisite Baroque and Gothic buildings, and many princes, nobles and dignitaries have visited the area.

There is no better place to be a place for secret diplomatic negotiations.

As a neutral third party, the territory itself has relatively strong credit and security guarantees. In addition, the presence of high-ranking foreign government officials and nobles in famous summer resorts is not easy to arouse suspicion. On top of that, the buildings are old, and there's never a shortage of hidden meeting rooms for intimate conversations. For the series of intrigues that will unfold here, this stage is simply perfect.

"You know? It is often said that there are only three kinds of people in Serres. Spy, mercenary, money bank owner. ”

The captain of the personal guard, who was dressed in a high-end suit and dress, polished his nails with a fiberglass manicurator, and said casually:

"Actually, they also missed a group of people - brokers. ”

As the war began, Ceres's unique position made it increasingly important in international diplomacy. Diplomats from all over the world make secret contacts, spies steal information from each other, mercenaries take on a variety of commissions, from ordinary caravan escorts to escort important goods to deal with tricky events and people, and money bank bosses help warring parties manage their money.

This also includes Yalfheim.

For the real benefit animal, as long as the gains outweigh the losses, then any hatred can be set aside. Not to mention the grudges accumulated from business competition, national hatreds and family hatreds can be thrown aside. Maximizing the benefits is the only guiding principle for their actions.

Therefore, when Alfheim approached Seres to deal with some funds, the bankers did not resist in the slightest, and served their pointy-eared clients with the same diligence as priests serving the mother goddess, and received a clean or unclean banknote, jewelry, securities, title deeds, precious metals......

The cooperation between the two sides has always been very pleasant, with one more money laundering channel in Yalfheim and one more well-funded client in Serres, and the bilateral relationship can almost be described as glue-like and blended. However, as the scales of war quickly tipped in Alfheim's favor, the fiery honeymoon began to cool. A cold, realist and utilitarian atmosphere began to pervert the two countries.

Alfheim is not at all surprised by the change in Serres, as business rivals are all too aware of the tricks of this group of people who claim to be permanently neutral in private. It's a bit insulting to say that they are grass on the wall, to be precise, Seres is a windward chicken, and they will change their faces when the wind blows, not to mention that they are facing "great changes unseen in a thousand years". On the eve of this drastic change in the geopolitical environment, it is strange that those smart people will not do anything.

Small countries surrounded by strong neighbors have their own set of survival wisdom, and they know better than anyone that the way to survive in small countries is not to be maverick but to see the wind and steer, and to go against the tide is not called individuality, it is to seek a dead end (such as a certain piece of flat and dewy mats). Now that Alfheim has finally pried open Charlemagne's hard shell and is about to feast, if Serres dares to come forward and stick a lever, he will definitely be killed by the enraged Alfheim. Therefore, they will never automatically jump out and be the first bird, but will only secretly build a diplomatic encirclement network against Alfheim with the big powers, with those big powers charging in front and Seres threading the needle behind the back, and an invisible net is formed. Even if Alfheim sensed that there was a shadow of Seres behind him, first, he was restrained by other countries, and secondly, there was no clear evidence, even if he hated it, he could not easily attack these political brokers.

This is indeed a group of cunning foxes who have a good hand to calculate.

But they were far from the most cunning foxes.

Across the sea, the Albion, who was in the same vein as Charlemagne and Alfheim, was the most cunning fox, or the old fox whose tail was white, as they often say.

The gentlemen of Albion are savage and bloodthirsty at heart, and their elegant appearance is only a layer of disguise, and the dress and perfume do not change the fact that the island barbarians are in fact a group of fierce and cunning predators.

When Charlemagne was still worried about the system of electing princes, and the central and local nobles were intriguing all day long, the tsar was worried about pulling his hair in order to balance the various nationalities and classes, and when the pope was pondering which one to cut, the island barbarians had already built a more stable feudal system of government than the mainland countries through intermarriage, marriage, and party formation. This intricate and brutally bloody structure follows the law of the jungle in a daily struggle for power and profit. If you look at the history of Albion, it is not difficult to find that the dynasties and families of this country have changed much faster than in other countries, and the ruling group will change in a few decades or a hundred years. In those dark and brutal histories, killing fathers and brothers, taking wives and plundering children has become a daily routine, and at every turn, a certain family is completely extinct, and there is no successor to a certain royal family. In the face of interests, what faith, loyalty, morality, and morality are not as good as toilet paper. This is the true face of the people of Albion.

Albion has no friends, and in their eyes, the so-called "friends" are specially used for pitting. That's how they play in their own homes, they are allies in the morning, and they can dig pits and bury the whole family of "allies" alive at night. The Albion gentlemen packaged these routines, changed them to the beautiful name of the "continental balance policy", and then directly used them in the international community. The silly white sweets on the mainland don't know the depths, and they have been cheated again and again, but every time they still stage familiar recipes, familiar routines, and familiar stories. Now the trick is playing on Alfheim again, but the Albians have apparently forgotten that Alfheim is also a country that implements Machiavellianism in international dealings, and in some ways the elves are more realistic than the Albions.

From the very beginning, Alfheim did not expect anything from the beginning of an alliance with Albion, which had no connection or affection for him, and was based entirely on the need for interests. To put it mildly, the covenant of the people of Albion can be trusted, and the sows can go up the tree. However, although Alfheim was wary, he did not want to tear his face too soon. In order to gain time, it is not impossible to soften your body appropriately and echo the so-called peace negotiations.

As for the United Rus' Principality...... These woolly bears seem to be very aggressive, but in fact they are extremely scheming, and they are not inferior to the Albions in terms of cunning and ferocity. However, they have some weaknesses that cannot be avoided, and in some ways, the principality is the best solution.

"The most difficult thing to solve in every sense is Charlemagne's 'young lady'......"

There was a slight jolt, the red signal light in front of the seat turned green, and the captain of the pro-guard put away his manicur. With a chilling smile and an expressionless black suit, he left the first-class cabin of the high-speed business flying ship.

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Roland felt his ears bulge, and for a moment he remembered how he felt when he swooped down quickly. But he wasn't wearing a "unicorn," or a sky full of blood and fire, or even Charlemagne.

The floating boat was decreasing in altitude and speed, and the change in air pressure made passengers who were not used to the air journey somewhat complain, but a few complaints were nothing compared to the many sighs of relief. When the towering icebergs and numerous beautiful buildings appeared outside the porthole, all the complaints disappeared.

As soon as the ship entered the port, the passengers who had been impatient for a long time got up to pack their luggage. The nagging of women, the muttering of men, the murmuring of old men, the cries of children—all kinds of voices mingled, and the otherwise quiet business class was immediately transformed into a market in Lüdes, and the good short-term floating tour ship was instantly reduced to an exile ship to escort prisoners to the colonies.

The crew is already surprised by this. As the war progressed, not only Charlemagne's upper echelons were considering a way out, but all families with a few sources of information and assets had to face an extremely cruel and urgent question: what would they do if Charlemagne was defeated.

No one pinned their hopes on Alfheim's side, although the officials and soldiers on his side were all bastards, they were still their own people of the same species, and no matter how bastards they were, they would not be careless of people's lives. Replace it with a group of ghost beasts with daggers in their mouths, medals on their chests like dragon scales, wearing iron boots, and walking eager to kick their legs to their heads, not to mention expecting them not to rob money, food, and women, and don't put into practice the content of Charlemagne's official propaganda that decent people will never show to children, and the big guys are already thankful. What kind of co-prosperity and coexistence, goodwill and friendship, or the princes should keep it for them to listen to themselves.

As the reality of the war situation leaked out of the cracks in the dam of information control, this anxiety and panic grew worse and worse, eventually prompting some to start taking action. With someone to take the lead, the remaining people with ideas and conditions will naturally follow, and so the wave of exiled refugees began to appear. Due to the blockade of Charlemagne's sea and southwestern land, and the fact that the citizens of the other countries were not very friendly to Charlemagne, Seres became a favorite place for the exiles. For a time, the air routes and mountain trails leading to Serres were crowded with Charlemagne's exiles, and the number of people killed in the cracks of the valley due to accidents and stumbles was in the triple digits.

Relatively speaking, the floating boat is much safer than walking on foot, and the ability to get on the floating boat is somewhat modest in terms of wealth and background, but the atmosphere that permeates the cabin along the way is still so oppressive that people feel suffocated.

Entering the tired, confused, and uneasy faces, I walked down the gangway and stepped onto a foreign land, and a complicated mood rolled in the hearts of the boys and girls who shouldered the heavy responsibility.