High noon in St. Petersburg still carried a lingering chill. In this kind of weather, the nobles loved nothing more than enjoying a cup of black tea to warm their bodies.
Kashchey sampled the tea with elegance; after all, this was a rare opportunity. Within Talulah's body, he never got to enjoy such high-quality goods.
Opposite him, however, no tea set was laid out. Usually, this would be a grave breach of etiquette, but given that the figure across from him wore a mask that didn't even expose eyes and was covered in a tangle of tubes, perhaps it wasn't considered a slight at all.
Standing before Kashchey was a famous "Blade of the Emperor"—an Emperor's Blade of Ursus. And this specific individual was their manager, the Leader of the Emperor's Blades, and the Emperor's most trusted existence!
"What are you doing here? Your agreement with the Emperor's Blades explicitly states that you are not to appear in St. Petersburg without prior notification!"
As he spoke, he slammed the table and stood up. His towering frame cast a long shadow over the relatively frail Kashchey.
Kashchey, however, remained unmoved. He sat there observing his teacup and the tea within as if he were merely a tea connoisseur, showing not a hint of fear.
"Calm down, my friend. This tactic of using presence, gestures, and language to exert psychological pressure—to make others feel inferior to you—should be left to the youngsters. Against someone like me, who has lived as long as I have, such low-level methods are utterly useless."
Kashchey looked at the Emperor's Blade, who seemed quite green in his eyes. He imagined the face beneath the mask—the expression of someone wanting to strike him but being unable to do so—and it filled him with delight!
"I have truly come for matters of grave importance regarding the future of Ursus. If a single decision goes wrong, Ursus will follow in the footsteps of old Gaul! No, it will be even more catastrophic than that!"
The Emperor's Blade displayed a look of sheer astonishment; he practically had the words 'Is this man insane?' written on his face. But seeing Kashchey's serious and solemn expression, he understood the Duke wouldn't make such a joke at a time like this.
"Do you know what you are saying? How dare you suggest here that Ursus will share Gaul's fate? If I didn't know your identity, you would be hanging from a St. Petersburg lamppost right now!"
The agent spat out words of fury. To say such things in this place—how was it any different from a rebel leader writing subversive poetry on the gates of the Golden Palace? It was a capital offense.
Number Twenty-nine looked warily at the device behind him. It was capable of transmitting their conversation verbatim to those on the other side. And since Kashchey was officially dead, the person listening on the other end was none other than the Emperor himself!
He wasn't worried that the Emperor would kill Kashchey over a few sentences—whether the Duke lived or died was none of his concern. He was worried that the Emperor would doubt his loyalty!
"Do I look like I'm talking nonsense? I can say it again: I am not joking!"
Kashchey slammed the table hard as he spoke. Although his words were incredibly difficult for anyone to believe, the Emperor's Blade tentatively decided to hear out his "madness."
"You had better explain everything honestly. Otherwise, even if you are the Deathless Black Snake, the Emperor's Blades have the means to make you wish for death!"
Faced with this threat, Kashchey didn't feel a shred of fear. Instead, he smiled at the agent and said:
"Wish for death? I've experienced that feeling long ago, and more than once! Right now, your soldiers are catalyzing an act of folly on that tundra, and you are all oblivious to it!"
"Since when did you, Kashchey, become a great philanthropist? After all these years, don't you think it's a bit fake to play the 'good guy' now? Tell me everything you know, in full detail! Otherwise, wait for us to turn you into an Emperor's Blade ourselves!"
Kashchey gave a bitter smile and waved his hand. How could he be a philanthropist? Everything he did was for himself.
"Just to mention, I am no saint. However, if those three Emperor's Blades truly intend to strike with lethal intent over there, your outcome won't be any better. Don't believe me? Take a look at what is in the sky right now!"
With that, Kashchey grabbed Twenty-nine's head and forced him to look toward the sky. At this moment, their visions shared a certain degree of synchronization. The Emperor's Blade trembled as he looked at the "Blade" hanging over the sky of St. Petersburg—suspended there like the sword of Final Judgment.
"That... what is that! Everyone, full alert! Get His Majesty and all vital supplies out of St. Petersburg! The Imperial City is under attack!"
"Calm down, calm down. I have a similar one myself. That thing has been hanging over my head for nearly half a year. Am I not perfectly fine? It's just that mine isn't as big or as 'pretty' as yours~"
Kashchey teased the agent with a strange, mocking emphasis. To hear fear in the voice of these "dead men" was, frankly, quite entertaining to him.
It wasn't just a trick of the light; since Kashchey had been "contained," his personality had changed noticeably. He had shifted from a conspirator who enjoyed orchestrating the suffering of others into a "chaos-seeker" who just enjoyed causing trouble... it was hard to say if he had "reformed" or simply gotten worse.
CRASH!!!!
The Emperor's Blade slammed Kashchey against the wall, grabbing his collar and roaring into his face:
"You knew what that was and you dared to bring it here! Have you truly lived long enough?! If you're tired of living, fine! How about I help release you right now?"
"Calm, calm. You are still too impulsive. For the record, I didn't 'bring' that thing here. I can merely see it. It is inextricably linked to the fact that I've spent the last three years wishing for death!"
The agent gradually regained his composure. That thing was definitely not something Kashchey could command; otherwise, why bother with conspiracies? He could just point that thing at any mobile city he wanted.
"I advise you to have your subordinates surrender temporarily before the situation worsens. Otherwise, if anyone dies on that side in a moment, what follows will truly be 'unsightly' for Ursus..."
The Emperor's Blade fell silent. He knew Kashchey's logic was sound, but the Emperor's Blades were the face of Ursus. They had no direct evidence that this thing was connected to the current events...
In a very short span of time, this man had received too much information that defied common sense. His mind was cluttered, causing him to lose his footing. He truly didn't know what to do.
"Do as Duke Kashchey says. Have the Emperor's Blades cease resistance, but I hope your side will not harm their lives. In my name, I permit the Emperor's Blades to surrender!"
A majestic voice came from behind the two of them. Though the voice sounded slightly youthful to Kashchey's ears, it still possessed the authority an overlord should have.
Hearing this command, Twenty-nine picked up the communicator on the table and spoke a few cryptic codes, then handed it to Kashchey to speak...
Once everything settled, the device behind them spoke again:
"Now then, Duke Kashchey. You should explain exactly what that thing hanging over my head is, shouldn't you?"