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At least for this year, they still had time to understand how those cannons and similar weaponry worked.
Although these two children were very likely to become threats in the future, for now, they were still infants, and eliminating them wouldn't be particularly difficult.
The governor of Venice thought the same way.
In the past decade, the governors of Venice had changed more frequently than a drunkard’s lovers. By the time one had barely settled into office, they were already dragged out amid public uproar for corruption, with a new candidate swiftly appointed.
The Venetians had been fighting the Turks for seventeen years, and now, after a decade of peace, no one was eager to stick their head out of the city walls to wait for the dawn.
But the problem was— the speed at which the Italian Empire was advancing was terrifying.
It was as though there were devils behind the scenes encouraging the empire’s rise through sorcery.
Agostino Barbarigo, the new governor of Venice, had only been in power for three years.
His predecessor had been imprisoned due to a corruption scandal and died under mysterious circumstances.
And he himself didn’t feel much better.
It felt like he had woken up one day to find Lorenzo suddenly leading an army to attack Rome.
Then, after another sleep, he woke up to find that Lorenzo was dead, and some of his relatives had taken the throne.
Perhaps it was because there was so much news, but the messengers had run their horses to death, and the messages they brought were becoming increasingly unbelievable—
What was this Protestantism about?! What did Italy mean? Why had Naples also fallen?
Barbarigo was desperately trying to save the Borgias, gathering all sorts of materials as per their demands, making frequent trips to the church to pray for the Medici to be poisoned already— and then, the Borgias were completely wiped out.
If it weren't for the news of the queen giving birth, he might have already packed up and fled.
Who knew if the devils were planning to march straight over?
It was now early spring, and the port was bustling as if schools of fish were jumping out of the water.
Fishermen were helping dock workers unload cargo, and ships were arriving one after another.
A young man, struggling to carry a box of apples, suddenly paused in his tracks.
"Hurry up! Aaron!" The person behind him impatiently urged. "If you take any longer, you'll have a beard! Who are you waiting for, some girl?"
"Captain—look over there," the young man hesitated.
"What? What's so interesting?" The old captain cursed, then followed the direction of the young man's finger to look out at the distant horizon of the sea. He instinctively cursed again, "What the hell is that?!"
"Is it... a ship?" the young man hesitated.
"A ship? What the hell are you hesitating for! Call someone!" The captain raised his hand and smacked the young man’s head, causing several apples to roll onto the ground. "The Italians are coming!"
People had never seen a ship like this before—
The merchant ships nowadays were all modeled after the Hansa's single-masted cog ships, with the foremast housing weapons and cannons, and the rear mast housing a sterncastle to balance the weight and prevent the ship from tipping.
The trendier ships had a design inspired by the Portuguese two-masted caravels, which were said to not only hold a lot of cargo but also had cannons at both the front and the rear.
But the thing now heading towards them—what the hell was it?!
Had the Italians brought their leaning tower with them?!
