The Shadow of Great Britain
Chapter 298 - 298 194 Arthur You Must Survive Until the End 4K4

298: Chapter 194: Arthur, You Must Survive Until the End (4K4) 298: Chapter 194: Arthur, You Must Survive Until the End (4K4) London Number 1, in the entertainment room of the Apsley House, two new players joined the card table.

Great Dumas glanced at his hand, a set of low cards that nearly made his scalp tingle.

The royalty check that Disraeli had just settled with him yesterday was being frittered away in no time at the gambling table.

Compared to the restless Great Dumas, Arthur, sitting across from him nonchalantly puffing on his pipe, seemed much more composed, even though the cards in his hand were not impressive.

Luckily, he had a king in his hand and, more importantly, a joker devil by his side.

As long as he didn’t want to lose, no one could win money from him.

Sitting next to Arthur were Talleyrand, humming a tune, and the latecomer Duke of Wellington.

These two gentlemen seemed less engaged in card playing and more in a battle of wits and trash talk.

The Duke of Wellington’s eyes were fixed on Talleyrand’s hand, “My dear fellow, it’s not often you come by.

Would you care to take a look at my eight Marshal’s batons?

The one from Britain was a gift from Joseph Bonaparte during the Peninsular War, while the remaining seven were a favor from Napoleon at Waterloo.”

Before Talleyrand could react to the Duke’s remark, Great Dumas’s face reddened in anger.

Just as he was about to speak, he saw Talleyrand pat his thigh with a smile and throw a queen to top the Duke’s jack.

Talleyrand spoke, “Your Grace, I’ve always believed war to be a serious matter, which is why it must be entrusted to soldiers like you.

The defeat of a war grieves me indeed, but fortunately, after you, there will be no one in Britain capable of prying eight Marshal’s batons from France again.

Had we known beating you would be as easy as finding a lover in Paris, there would have been no need for a Napoleon; we might as well have plucked a rioter from London to be our king.”

The Duke of Wellington raised an eyebrow, “Your tongue is as sharp as ever.

When you heard of Tsar Paul I of Russia’s stroke and subsequent death, you insisted on making a quip in front of the Russian ambassador: ‘I think you really should come up with a new reason for your monarch’s death; strokes are getting tedious.’ Because of that remark, the Russians bore a grudge against you for quite a while, didn’t they?”

Laughing heartily, Talleyrand retorted, “Having spent some time in Paris, you should understand that the French would shed their blood for a witty remark.

I’ve gotten to where I am today, from a crippled man without inheritance, because of my talent for making such remarks.

To forbid me from jesting might as well be to kill me.”

“As for the Russians, I merely spoke the truth in front of them.

And look, when Alexander I died a couple of years ago, didn’t they change the cause of death?

A vigorous middle-aged Tsar dying of ineffective treatment in a sanatorium certainly sounds more pleasant to the ears than a stroke.

This shows that the Russians are quite adept at accepting suggestions from others.”

After Talleyrand finished speaking, not only the Duke of Wellington, but also the gentlemen spectating their game erupted into laughter.

Talleyrand tossed a card and nodded at Arthur, “Young man, it’s your turn.

Don’t get distracted while playing cards with me!

Otherwise, you’ll lose this month’s wages to me.”

Arthur, upon hearing this, merely smiled and started placing his poker cards one by one on the table: “Your Excellency, it seems I won’t need to rely on my salary to get by this month.”

“Ah?”

Talleyrand, looking at the poker cards on the table, finally tapped the table resignedly after count the cards, and muttered to his attendant, “Bad luck today, so be it; it’s just a small sum.

Molay, pay up, ten pounds, oh right, don’t forget to charge this amount to the Embassy’s account.”

The attendant, upon hearing this, leaned in and asked politely, “Understood, shall I file it under travel expenses as usual?”

Talleyrand sipped his wine, “This month’s travel expenses are a bit high.

Let’s change the account, huh…

What do you think about entertainment expenses?”

Holding a ledger in one hand and a quill in the other, the attendant remarked, “Ten pounds for entertainment expenses, isn’t that a little low?”

“You’re right,” Talleyrand, swirling his wine, contemplated, “Just put down one hundred and twenty pounds.

Ten pounds for Mr.

Hastings, a hundred pounds for another game tomorrow night, and the remaining ten as your tip.”

Great Dumas, upon hearing this, couldn’t help but take a deep breath and muttered, “You folks really know how to make a fortune!”

Talleyrand, pulling out a handkerchief from his pocket to wipe his mouth, shook his head, “Alexander, don’t compare yourself with me; I can afford to gamble like this because I am Talleyrand.

Everyone knows I love money and that I like to make it on my own.

If I didn’t, they would start wondering if I was being paid off by other countries again.

Compared to the more than ten million francs from Metternich and the one million British pounds from Germany, one hundred pounds is quite a bargain.”

Hearing this, the Duke of Wellington couldn’t help but tease, “Yet wasn’t more than half of the military intelligence you sold to Metternich for ten million francs fake?”

Talleyrand shrugged his shoulders, “I never guaranteed authenticity!

My job was to provide the intelligence; discernment is not my forte.”