Europa Universalis 1867: Start by inheriting an armory

The giant ship docked at Royal Port Victoria, and Richard once again saw the curtain-like leaden sky of London.

Richard disembarked, still shaken, with Louise following behind him.

Perhaps it was the shipwrecks of the Bokenhead, Princess Alice, and Titanic that made him feel that every passenger ship trip was an adventure.

"If I could go back, I think I would take a submarine to see that submarine." Richard stood on the shore, watching the passenger ship sail away.

"Go back? Go back where?" Louise was carrying a parasol, but it seemed a bit superfluous in the gloomy London weather.

"It's nothing," Richard said, taking the crate from the porter. "Let's go home first."

"Home?" Louise glanced at him.

"My house, in Kensington, was left to me by my father." Richard beckoned for a carriage.

He put the wooden crate on the car and reached out to help Louise up.

The carriage traveled through the dirty streets, and it was already getting dark. A newsboy was shouting something on the street corner. When he first saw the London sky covered in cinders, he felt only unease.

But now that I have the Martini-Henry rifle in my hand, I feel inexplicably more at ease.

The car turned into a small alley in Kensington and stopped in front of a Georgian-style villa with a meticulously manicured garden and even the gas lamp shades in front of the door were polished to a shine.

"We're here." Richard jumped out of the car and carried the wooden crate down.

The door opened, and a tall, thin man greeted them at the entrance. He was Harold, Richard's butler.

"Young Master." He bowed slightly.

"Harold, this is Miss Louise. She'll be staying here for a while," Richard introduced.

Harold bowed slightly, as if it were a machine: "Miss."

Louise nodded; she had seen far too many butlers like that at Buckingham Palace and Windsor Castle.

They were all cut from the same mold—rigid, taciturn, like a walking ruler.

The two entered the room, and Harold called out behind him, "Susan!"

A plump woman came running from the end of the corridor, her apron covered in flour. Her face was flushed, her hair was held back with a hairpin, and she trembled as she ran.

"Young Master! You're back!" she greeted warmly, her voice loud and clear. "Oh my, you've gotten so thin! Knowing you were coming back, I stewed some beef, and..."

"Susan, this is Miss Louise," Richard interrupted her.

Susan's smile deepened when she saw Louise: "Miss, you're so beautiful! The young master has never brought you back before; you two look so well-matched..."

"Susan." Harold's voice came from behind.

Susan shrank back slightly, but her smile remained unchanged: "I...I'll go prepare the tea!"

She turned and ran, the apron straps swinging behind her.

Richard placed the wooden crate on the table in the entryway, opened it, and inside lay the brand-new rifle, next to neatly stacked copper-cased bullets.

"Send someone to find Sean," he said to Harold. "Have him bring the workers; the factory is reopening."

"Yes, I'll go right away." He turned and left.

Richard looked up at the clock on the wall; it was five in the afternoon, and it wasn't dark yet.

"So, would you like whiskey or red wine for dinner?" Louise was already standing in front of the liquor cabinet, making her selection.

"I...have to go out for a bit." He closed the wooden box.

"What? Now?" Louise was a little confused. He certainly wouldn't go to the bank at this time, let alone the factory that was already closed.

"It's important. I'll be back for dinner, Susan!" he called to the kitchen. "Take good care of Miss Louise."

"Don't worry, young master, leave it to me!" Susan poked her head out and replied.

Richard had just opened the door when Louise grabbed his arm: "Are you sure you don't need me to come with you? This is London, not Paris. Maybe I can help."

If Louise had been there, things would have been even more complicated, because Richard was going to the address on the napkin to meet one of the Prussian spies in London.

But he didn't dare say it aloud, only jokingly saying, "I'll be back soon, what? You're going to miss me?"

"Tsk, so vain." Louise released his arm, sat on the sofa, and closed the door behind her.

Louise turned her head and watched his figure disappear into the twilight: "Richard, what are you hiding from me...?"

Soon, Richard arrived at the address left by the scarred man: Old Bond Street.

He stood on the street corner, head down, repeatedly confirming that he hadn't gone to the wrong place, because this wasn't a dark street corner or a slum; this was a luxury women's clothing store where British ladies, wearing hats and gloves, would go in to drink tea and try on clothes.

Several silk dresses were discreetly displayed in the shop window, and there were no ostentatious signs at the entrance, only an exquisite bronze plaque that read: Mrs. Eleanor.

Richard gritted his teeth, stuffed the napkin into his pocket, and pushed open the black wrought iron door.

The front hall was larger than it appeared from the outside, and the air was filled with the scent of high-end French perfumes and fresh silk. The satin dresses displayed inside were sharply tailored and boldly colored, a far cry from the heavy whalebone dresses on the street.

A young woman was sitting on the sofa by the window, flipping through a French book.

She had the appearance of a so-called pure-blooded Aryan, with golden curly hair loosely tied behind her ears, and ice-blue eyes curved into two crescent moons. Her dress had no petticoat, and the waistline fell naturally, with every fold clinging perfectly to her body, making Richard's eyes unable to look away for a moment.

Seeing Richard push the door open and enter, she closed her book: "This is a women's clothing store, sir."

"Uh, how do you know I'm not here to buy clothes for my sweetheart?" Richard asked, regaining his composure.

"If that's the case," the woman straightened up, "you will bring Princess Louise."

Richard was stunned. Instead of confirming his identity, she called out the princess's name directly.

He stood at the doorway and suddenly felt like a magician whose trick had been exposed.

"You're Mrs. Eleanor?" Richard broke out in a cold sweat.

"You can call me Eleanor," she put down her book, "but can I call you Richard?"

Richard swallowed hard. "Whatever."

A slight smile played on her lips as she gestured with her chin toward the sofa opposite her. "Tea or coffee?"

"Tea." Richard sat down.

She rang the bell on the table, and a girl poked her head out from the back door, gave a few instructions, and then went back inside. Less than a minute later, the tea was served.

"Do you know why I'm here?" Richard picked up his teacup.

"People come here with many purposes: greed, vanity, envy..." Eleanor's fingers crossed lightly on her knees. "I can see that you are different from them."

"I don't know, that man with the scar on his face told me you could help." Richard took a sip of tea. "Help me find out who's behind Greenwood."

"You surprise me, Richard," Elinor said, calling his name. "The way you think is like a prophet. Tell me, how do you do it?"

Richard tensed up. Had his identity as a time traveler been discovered? Impossible. People in 1868 couldn't even understand the concept of time travel. She was just testing him.

"You investigated me, what do you say?" he retorted.

"That's precisely why you fascinate me," Elinor's eyes were gentle and sweet, yet made Richard feel extremely uncomfortable. "How did a student returning from overseas suddenly become a trading master?"

Richard sighed. "Can you help me or not? If not, I'm leaving now..."

"You have less patience than I thought," Eleanor said, crossing her legs as her skirt slid down to reveal her fair calves. "Greenwood has a powerful family behind him, even high-ranking military and political figures. You might see some of their henchmen at the bidding conference in a couple of days."

"I think you know just as much as I do." Richard realized that Greenwood had lost so easily before.

“Unlike you, Richard, I don’t make predictions,” Eleanor chuckled. “People just talk a lot more in front of me.”

"Very good," Richard stood up, the chair making him uncomfortable. "Next time I come, I'll have the information you want ready, and you'd better be ready too."

He straightened his clothes and walked towards the entrance. Eleanor didn't move, but a voice came from behind him, drilling into his ears:

"I have a feeling we'll meet many times."

He quickened his pace and fled the store as if escaping.