Yes, Madam Prime Minister

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Should we simply maintain the status quo, or even support the emperor and help him eliminate the "rebels"?

"No, we should support the revolution," the second son, Ilya, suddenly changed the subject. "Our area is too close to St. Petersburg, but we only have farms, no factories. The country is becoming increasingly capitalist, and our status, which has no capital to speak of, will only get lower and lower. Revolution is good! Let's take our land and our little property and risk our lives for it. You can become a mid-level officer, and I can be a leader in a factory. That would be much better than what we have now."

"Isn't this too risky?" asked Moros, who was the boss but had very little status.

Ilya smiled. "You don't actually think that those who are clamoring for a revolution are just a bunch of mediocre superhumans, plus a group of lower-ranking officers they've rallied, and some workers they've incited, do you?"

In the distance, Ronan smiled.

The world of the extraordinary is different from a world populated only by mortals. In the world of mortals, even the highest-ranking and most powerful person is still just a mortal. The saying goes, "Even if you are made an emperor, you may die worse than a commoner." An emperor? He can be killed with a single axe blow. But in the world of the extraordinary, this is impossible. No matter how many mortals there are, they cannot defeat a mid-level or higher extraordinary individual. Forget about attrition; are all mortals unafraid of death? The advent of firearms hasn't actually narrowed the gap between mortals and extraordinary individuals. Guns are far more efficient than melee weapons or magic. Moreover, more and more weapons and equipment are now being developed for the use of extraordinary individuals.

The overthrow of regimes in the supernatural world often occurs when the number of superhumans increases and the ordinary people feel that society is unfair. They, as superhumans, enjoy all the benefits while the nation's wealth is increasingly concentrated in the hands of a few. The vast majority of superhumans do not receive enough benefits. Then, a prestigious and powerful superhuman raises his voice and rebels.

In this era, due to the emergence of artificial talents, the number of extraordinary individuals who feel that their abilities do not match their actual capabilities far exceeds that of the past.

The last world war erased this contradiction, but now, forty years later, it has resurfaced.

"The thirteenth duke's family controls too many official positions and profitable factories. Their family leader is also very strong, but most of their members are only at the same level as the eldest brother, or even worse. At least the eldest brother is born extraordinary. Those people just have artificial talent. Their strength and cultivation are low, and they have no ability to govern or manage. Even so, they act as if it is their due to be officials and manage enterprises."

"Therefore, some small factory owners, enterprise managers, and middle-level officials should suppress and support the proletarian rebellion. We are farm owners. If we don't take the initiative and surrender early, we won't have another chance in the future."

Ilya said.

He understood the revolution better than the third brother, Andrei, who was eager to join it, and was even more eager to do so.

The reason is ridiculous: because in Rus', landowners also suffer. The Rus' Empire concentrates the nation's resources on industrial development, so how could hereditary counts and landowners not be exploited? Impossible.

"Father, what do you mean?" the third son, Andrei, asked his father, both happy and disappointed.

I was happy because my second brother also supported the revolution, but disappointed because it was people like my second brother who supported the revolution.

However, as those who previously advocated revolution for him said, at this stage it is necessary to unite all forces that can be united.

“It’s feasible,” the sickly old count replied.

The leader, Moros, who had no say in the matter, was both excited and afraid. He was excited because once the deal was done, he would no longer have to be a flexible worker. He was afraid because failure or falling before victory would mean certain doom.

The Thirteen Dukes are not just thirteen families, but also a large number of vassals and collaborators.

“Don’t worry, big brother. It’s not like I’m asking you to be on the front lines,” the second brother, Ilya, continued. “Just wait and see. This situation in Ukraine is a chance for revolution.”

The third brother, Andrei, a junior officer, was taken aback. How come he didn't know?

"Ha, since the war forty years ago, the eastward expansion plan has failed. Now we can only go west, but our emperor is not keen on fighting. If he doesn't fight, his prestige will decline further. If he fights and fails, that's his problem. If he wins, that's a good thing. New places are where new forces can grow and thrive."

Ilya looked confident and in control, even though he was just a minor county sheriff.

The four of them chatted for a few more minutes before the conversation ended.

The next day, Moros continued to fulfill his duties as translator and guide, and he and Ronan left the estate, heading south to St. Petersburg, the capital of Ross. Meanwhile...

Ambrina, Alice, and Zhao Yingqi are guests at a manor belonging to a duke, one of the thirteen families.

The thirteen dukes split into four families, six families, and three new families. The four families were descendants of the four sons of the King of Rus' who initially migrated south and then east from the north. The six families were born during centuries of conquest and assimilation, one of which was descended from the "Han Chinese steppe chieftains" who survived the experiment hundreds of years ago. The three new families were formed by foreign nobles: one was a descendant of the old empire, another was a Central Asian from the south, and the third was a descendant of a minor noble from the Empire of Will and a French woman of unknown origin.

The place where Ambrina and her companions were staying was a family of minor nobles from the Will Empire and descendants of a French woman of unknown origin.

The French woman of unknown origin was Marianne, Ambrina's third sister, and the so-called minor nobleman of the Empire of Will was the son of Emperor Antoro, whom Ambrina had defeated with her army, and that mortal woman after he went into seclusion.

The reason she knew so much was that, before Ronan and his group fell asleep, Ambrina had met her aging sister in Ross during their world tour.

Now, the new friend who invited Ambrina to visit, the duke's daughter, is the granddaughter of Ambrina's sister's granddaughter. Over so many generations, she naturally bears no resemblance to Ambrina's sister, except for having black hair.

"Anli, you're amazing! You saved these flowers!" the little girl said. She knew that Ambriina was a high-level superhuman, old enough to be her grandmother, but Ambriina really looked like her peer.

Chapter 1085 War and Peace: A Life-Saving Gift, or a Carefree Way to Play it Hard

In the garden, neither Alice nor Zhao Yingqi came. Ambrina ate dessert with her sister's descendant, Ajata, including a chocolate lava cake.

Ambrina ate this stuff more than a hundred years ago, when she was still the Queen of France, and she ate it freely.

This was the first time for Ajata, a ducal lady.

The people of Ross only had the chance to taste chocolate a few decades ago. Once they tasted it, the upper class fell madly in love with it. Now, some wealthy people in the middle class also love it. But it's not cheap in Ross because it has to be imported, not only the cocoa but also the sugar.

In Ronan's original timeline, twenty or thirty years later, industrial sugar-making technology was born.

Technological development in this world is faster, but only two Western countries, namely Britain and France, have mastered industrial sugar production technology. Ross does not yet have this technology.

"very nice."

Ambrina let out a comfortable sigh of relief. Eating some hot sweets in this cold place was truly comforting.

“Indeed, France is still the best,” Agata said. She wasn’t good at reading people, but she could tell that Ambrina had probably eaten there many times before.

Honestly, even a Frenchman with some ability eats better than her.

“Ajata, you’re so kind,” Ambrina said, looking at the little girl.

Agata's appearance awakened a long-buried memory in Ambrina, a memory from a long, long time ago, when her father Lucien had just ascended the throne. Despite the defeat in the external war, she, the princess, remained carefree, even believing that the "cold cake" she ate was really worth that much money. Even after Delenia revealed the truth, she was unwilling to severely punish those who had deceived her. Everything changed after her father was diagnosed with a strange disease, and the struggle for the throne began. From then on, she was no longer that innocent princess. Even now, recalling it, Ambrina doubts whether her love at first sight for Ronan was pure.

Because she fell in love with Ronan when he easily won over the secretaries-general of several other special cities with just a few words, allowing Dinia to be easily elected mayor.

"Huh?" Ajata was surprised for a moment, then shook her head. "I was actually jealous of you just now."

"Haha." Ambrina laughed, then took out a small glass doll from her pocket and ate what was inside.

There's a mushroom inside. "Here, if you're in danger, crush it." This is what Dinia gave them. There are many of them. It's a healing medicine and also a transmitter.

It can save lives, and it can also help people call for help.

"Danger? Why would you think I'm in danger?" Ajata asked, puzzled.

"A few days ago, there was a riot here, and it was quite big."

Ambrina explained that it was actually an excuse.

She felt that Ajata was in danger because of the flower. The flower's withering was not due to Ajata's improper care or environmental factors, but rather the influence of some kind of abnormal magic.

During their twenty-year round-the-world trip before they fell asleep, their children received an education, and they also learned a great deal from each other.

"Oh, that's nothing. It's just a conflict between the pro-war and pro-peace factions. It started as a bunch of civilians causing trouble, and then it got escalated by a few mages with conflicting views. It's really nothing serious." Ajata didn't seem to care at all.

Those who advocate war hope to invade Ukraine, while those who advocate peace hope to make Ukraine a vassal state through diplomatic means.

"Oh, I see." Ambrina said with an "I see" expression. "But please accept it, consider it a thank you gift for your hospitality."

“Okay.” Ajata agreed and accepted the money, then asked, “By the way, where did Alice and Zhao go?”

“Alice probably went to a book club event. I don’t know about Yingqi; she likes to wander around,” Ambrina replied.

The so-called book club was actually a "rebel organization." As the saying goes, "It's easier to change mountains and rivers than to change one's nature," and Alice still liked to join in this kind of fun.

She's the kind of person who likes to hang out with people who are rebellious and full of self-righteousness.

As for Zhao Yingqi, she wasn't just wandering around; she had been asked by Ambrina to investigate the cause of the withered flower.

Zhao Yingqi's strength is also different from before. She has reached the fifth level, but even if she encounters a seventh-level opponent, she can still run away because she can continuously stop time over a large area. There are no rules that govern her, and with the ability to stop time, it is extremely convenient for her to infiltrate and investigate.

Meanwhile, Ronan and Mrs. Zhao also arrived in St. Petersburg, so there was no need for a translator anymore.

In this place, many people speak French. As for the awkward situation where you speak French and others don't understand you, it's not you who will feel embarrassed, but others.

Moros received his payment but did not leave; instead, he planned to enjoy himself for a few days.

There are only a few major cities in the whole of Ross. Moros has been here many times, but rarely stays. There's no way around it; he has long since lost his status as the family heir and has no money in his pocket.

"Where are you going?" Ronan asked curiously.

“Of course, we should eat and drink well first, and then, well, that’s it, we’ll go gamble a couple of times,” Moros said.

Ronan laughed. "You don't actually think you can win money, do you?"

"That's the thrill I'm after. I'm pretty much set in my ways. If I lose, I won't try to win it back. I'll just leave." Moros said nonchalantly.

He used to be pretending to be carefree, but now he really is. His two younger brothers and father are plotting something that will cost him his head, but he can't participate in it. If it succeeds, he'll get some scraps; if it fails, he'll likely suffer or even die.

Since that's the case, why should he care about tomorrow? After all, tomorrow is no longer something he can decide for himself.

“Then we’ll go eat and drink with you, but we won’t go anywhere else in between. We’ll play a couple of games with you,” Ronan said.

He understood in the middle that it meant going to find a prostitute.

Moros looked troubled, and finally spoke hesitantly, "Uh, what I eat might not suit your tastes..."

Now middle-aged and having accomplished nothing, he had long since blended into the crowd. The places he frequented were nothing more than cheap, affordable restaurants and taverns. In the past, he would have taken Ronan to a nice place to save face and would never have let Ronan pay for him. But now, he had let go of many things and spoke up directly, even though he was still somewhat hesitant.

“It doesn’t matter, I just like the taste of the common people,” Ronan said.

Moros smiled. "That's true. For someone of your social standing, it's a pleasure to occasionally indulge in something like this."

As expected, Moros led Ronan and Madam Zhao to a tavern.

This place isn't low-end; it's quite spacious, the tables aren't crowded, and the environment is clean.

There was absolutely no question about renovations.

Among the guests were non-orthodox superhumans like Moros, as well as several lower-level ones and many ordinary people. There was no clear distinction between superhumans and ordinary people, indicating that this was a shop with a very pleasant atmosphere.

We were seated, and before the food even arrived, the drinks were served first—vodka, of course. However, the brewing techniques of that era were somewhat lacking, and the raw material was barley, so the spirit wasn't the clear, transparent, and flavorful kind. Ross's cuisine, influenced by both French and German influences, began with a strongly flavored raw cured pork dish.

Chapter 1086 Everything Can Be Enjoyed with Wine: Speech and Salesmanship, Two People Meet

Ronan could barely manage to eat raw, cured pork, but for Mrs. Zhao, it was too disgusting; it was practically inedible.

Moros really enjoyed it. He took a bite of the heavily seasoned raw pork with various marinades, followed by a sip of wine, and immediately felt great. He then started commenting, saying that you either can't find this kind of food elsewhere, or the taste is far inferior.

Fortunately, this tavern was also a restaurant, and it served proper meals; otherwise, Mrs. Zhao would have had to eat bread slices that looked like compressed biscuits.

Then another appetizer was served: pickled cucumbers.

To be frank, the taste was really bad. It was okay to go with meat to cut through the grease, but on its own it had a sour and rancid smell. Next came the soup, a stew of vegetables in milk gravy.

Then, the main course finally arrived: the famous French dish, "Princess Steak." At first, Ronan didn't quite recognize it, but when it was served, he burst out laughing. Good heavens, wasn't this the dish invented by Ambrina? Just pour caviar on top of a seared steak, and you're done. However, the quality of the beef was a bit poor; the texture was off, and it lacked the rich aroma of beef fat. Caviar was probably the cheapest thing around here, but this was the dish that Mrs. Zhao could actually eat.

After finishing the main course, we continued drinking.

Whether it's leftover minced pork, pickled cucumber water, leftover sauce from stews, or leftover sauce from main dishes, just dip bread in it and it makes a great snack to accompany drinks. Take a bite and then a sip.

For the Rus', everything is a snack to accompany their drinks.

It's important to know that this wasn't the dead of winter, but August, summer. Summers in Russia are cool, and in St. Petersburg, not far from the sea, it can even feel a bit hot under the bright sunshine.

In this weather, the Russians still drink vodka with a high alcohol content.

It has to be said that he was addicted to alcohol.

Madam Zhao was already seated and motionless; she didn't like drinking. Ronan and Morros were still drinking. Just then, a group of men of varying heights and builds, all wearing the same coarse cloth overcoats, filed into the tavern. The group instantly attracted the attention of everyone else in the tavern. Apart from a few people who were already swaying from their drinks, most people looked over curiously. The leader didn't sit down but stood in the middle of the tavern's aisle. He stood there silently for a moment, and when most people's eyes were on him, this man, who was neither tall nor strong, began to give a speech.

Ronan couldn't understand it, but the rhythm of his speech, full of emotion and persuasive power, was palpable even to those who didn't understand. As the half-hour speech progressed, the atmosphere grew increasingly agitated, with constant shouts and applause, though a few tables remained unmoved.

It's a shame she's not involved in pyramid schemes with that kind of eloquence.

As soon as the speech ended, the man who had led the speech led his entourage to various tables to drink and chat with the diners.

Even the tables that were never enthusiastic about giving speeches came, but Ronan's table was the only one that didn't.

“What are they saying?” Ronan asked Morlos.

The tavern wasn't crowded, not the kind of place where people were practically touching, but it wasn't like a big hotel where the tables were spaced far apart and you could hear the conversation of the person at the next table.

Moros listened carefully again, "It seems that the group of men in trench coats were selling some kind of medicine, one that can suppress the adverse reactions caused by transplanted magical devices, and another that can stimulate talent."

Ronan raised an eyebrow. "Heh, interesting. Drugs to suppress 'mental illness' and drugs to induce 'mental illness'? Poison and antidote both provided, a one-stop service, huh?"

Can such a medicine really be developed using unorthodox methods from the general public?

It is estimated that there will be very serious side effects.

Of course, it's also possible that they're just scammers.

"They're trading right here in this tavern?" Ronan asked again.

“Of course not, they left an address,” Moros replied.

At this moment, the silent Mrs. Zhao suddenly questioned, "These people are dressed in such conspicuous clothes, and they are openly doing this kind of thing in a public place. Aren't they afraid?"

No matter what, this is the capital city.

"Those high and mighty people wouldn't even look at a tavern like this. They're already worried enough about revolutions in various places and whether or not there will be a war." Moros was already a bit drunk, but he still had the air of someone who was pointing out the flaws in the world. "Besides, even if they knew, they wouldn't care. They don't even care about revolutions, let alone a bunch of people who are probably just a bunch of swindlers."

After a moment's thought, Ronan looked at Morros and asked, "Do you know that address?"

Moros took another swig of his drink. "I'm not entirely sure, but I should be able to find it." He wasn't a local; he had stayed here for a few years when he was younger and studying, and afterwards he would only come here a few times a year for business, never staying for long. So he wasn't exactly familiar with the area, but he had a few local acquaintances he knew well, so finding a place wouldn't be difficult.

“Money is not a problem,” Ronan said.

Madam Zhao brought a lot of money with her.