The Shadow of Great Britain
Chapter 391 - 391 230 Flowers Swords Poland and France 6K4

391: Chapter 230: Flowers, Swords, Poland, and France (6K4) 391: Chapter 230: Flowers, Swords, Poland, and France (6K4) With a powerful swing, a loud ‘thwack’ filled the air as the leather golf ball soared into the sky and disappeared behind the green.

Lionel shielded his eyes with a hand and peered out, then a smile spread across his face, “Mr.

Talleyrand, are you sure this is really your first time playing golf?

To have such skill at your first tee-off is quite unbelievable.”

Talleyrand casually tossed the club into the air and caught it, then raised an eyebrow smugly and turned to Arthur, “Young man, it’s your turn.”

Arthur nodded at the words.

He first gripped the club to feel the distance from his arm to the tee, then he suddenly swung with great force, but before the club could touch the golf ball, Arthur’s arm effortlessly deflated the power.

The golf ball fell to the ground with a plunk, as if it had been toppled by a gentle breeze.

“Ah,” Arthur feigned surprise then looked up at Talleyrand, “Slipped.”

Talleyrand burst into laughter at his reaction, holding his stomach as he said, “Come on!

Arthur, this is not a banquet, don’t joke around with me like this.”

Lionel, who was standing to the side and had some sword fighting experience, noticed something in Arthur’s movements.

He took a slight breath, then shook his head with a chuckle, “Arthur, perhaps I shouldn’t have come to play golf with you.

Such a level of control in your force, I dare say there’s not a soul in the London Fencing Club who could best you.

Why don’t we arrange a day for you to cross swords with them?”

At this, Talleyrand also smacked his forehead, “Oh!

You didn’t mention it, I forgot.

I remember seeing in the newspaper the other day that ‘Foil Napoleon’ is reigning supreme in London.

Arthur, don’t you want to defend your British fencing honor?”

“Foil Napoleon?” Arthur picked up the golf ball and placed it back on the tee, “Lately these nicknames lack creativity, Napoleon of the perfume world, Napoleon of the tailoring world, we even have a Napoleon in astronomy squatting behind our Royal Observatory.

If it weren’t for Napoleon, I reckon London’s media would run out of half their news stories.”

Lionel joked, “It’s not all about Napoleon, aren’t you called ‘Wellington of Scotland Yard’ by ‘The Times’?”

Arthur took out a handkerchief to wipe his club, “That must have been your suggestion, wasn’t it?

After all, Rothschild has invested quite a sum in ‘The Times’.

But for ‘The Times’ to call me that, I wonder what the Duke of Wellington himself would think.”

“What would he think?” Talleyrand leaned on his club and laughed heartily, “I just had dinner with Wellington the other day, he doesn’t mind you using his title.

After all, he has a new nickname now, doesn’t he?

The citizens of London now call him ‘The Iron Duke,’ right?”

At this point, Talleyrand, getting playful, egged him on, “My boy, if I were you, I would issue a challenge to Foil Napoleon.

They say you can fight off seventeen pirates single-handedly.

If you could beat Foil Napoleon, you’d earn the moniker ‘Foil Wellington’ as well.”

Hearing this, Arthur could only respond helplessly, “Sir, have you been particularly bored lately?”

“Indeed, you’re right,” Talleyrand laughed, “Didn’t you also say it?

The Oxbridge Thames rowing race is at the end of March, the Derby horse race in June, and the bull-running festival is now gasping under the weight of new taxes.

And you, as a Scotland Yard policeman, loathe big boxing matches.

Thus, if ‘Foil Wellington’ here doesn’t make a move, Britain’s sporting calendar for the latter half of the year will be rather bleak.”

Upon hearing this, Arthur suddenly recalled Talleyrand’s itinerary for that morning and pretended to ask casually, “If I’m not mistaken, Britain and France are currently at loggerheads over the Poland issue.

You even made a special trip to the Foreign Office this morning.

Could it be that you solved an issue affecting the lives and deaths of millions of Poles in just one morning?”

Talleyrand heard this and simply shook his head with a smile, “Not solved, but rather, it’s an unsolvable issue.

Since it’s unsolvable, why should I waste so much effort on it?

Arthur, mark my words, Viscount Palmerston, your new Foreign Secretary, will regret the answer he gave me today.

If Viscount Castlereagh, that unfortunate soul, were still with us, he would never have been so definitive.

Such a pity, why would such a distinguished man take his own life in despair?”

Arthur promptly interjected, “Sir, although I do not wish to dispute your opinion, in the interest of justice and to protect the honour of Viscount Castlereagh, I must correct you.

He did not take his own life, but was unable to prevent his impulsive action due to a mental breakdown.

If I recall, you were once a Bishop, how could you err on such matters?”

Talleyrand was momentarily surprised by this then laughed, “Oh!

I almost forgot.

Suicide is indeed deemed an unforgivable sin in both the church and British law.

What’s the provision for that law?

If the suicide is successful, they are to impale the deceased’s heart with a wooden stake.

If the attempt fails, then they have to hang the would-be suicide.

Those laws haven’t been revoked yet, have they?”

Arthur replied in all earnestness, “The former has already been abolished by the order of Sir Robert Peel, though the latter is still under discussion at the Lord Chancellor’s office.”