Europa Universalis 1867: Start by inheriting an armory

"You're a man full of surprises," Eleanor said, closing the distance between them. "I thought you'd just stay home and do your business, and not bother me."

“I thought you’d just stick to making clothes,” Richard said, shrinking back, “but how can I trust a spy?”

"Is that all you see me for? Just a spy?"

"Using royal scandals to gain benefits—I can't think of a better term."

"So what if you're smart? I thought you came because of me, didn't I?"

Richard couldn't answer. Ever since he learned about this private gathering at the studio, he had a premonition that something big was going to happen. If it wasn't wrong that she was there because of Eleanor, why couldn't she just stay away from trouble?

"Look," Eleanor gestured with her chin toward the villa's window, "the Prince is right there."

Richard turned his head and saw that the Prince of Wales was facing away from the window on the third floor of the manor. Judging from his anxious movements, he seemed to be muttering something.

"Guess what he's doing?" Eleanor whispered in his ear. "Sending a telegram to his mother? Like a child who's done something wrong, and all of England is responsible for it?"

"You seem to be enjoying yourself," Richard said, glancing at her.

"I'm not that bad," Eleanor said, leaving his body and pouring himself some more red wine. "The young crown prince needs to learn to take responsibility for his actions."

"Really?" Richard looked at her seriously. "Are you worried about the future of Britain?"

"What I'm worried about is the future of my business." She took a sip of her drink, her eyes gazing into the depths of the oak forest. "I have another life here, and people are counting on me."

"The girl in the shop?"

Eleanor nodded.

Richard recalled the young girl in her clothing store, around sixteen years old, her fingers covered in needlework scars. She wore a decent dress, yet was as thin as a stray dog. But the way she looked at Eleanor was filled with adoration and gratitude, and she even spoke Eleanor's name with great reverence.

"Does she know who you are?" Richard asked.

“No,” Eleanor shook his head. “Her name was Millie. She was an orphan. I redeemed her from a textile factory. If you think she’s thin now, she was even thinner back then.”

Richard fell silent. Although Britain in 1868 had already legally prohibited the employment of children under the age of eight, factories often used so-called "apprenticeship contracts" to obtain cheap labor. As a modern man, he couldn't imagine what it would be like for a teenager like Millie to work on a mechanized assembly line.

"If you really care about her, stay away from all this and stop being a spy..." Richard said, looking at her.

"I can't, you wouldn't understand," Eleanor said, rubbing her forehead. "I have no way out."

Richard swallowed hard, then asked, "What does Prussia want Britain to do?"

"Do nothing."

"What?" Richard didn't understand.

"Prussia wants Britain to do nothing. The higher-ups have long anticipated that Prussia and France will inevitably go to war..." She paused, "and when war breaks out, Britain must remain absolutely neutral."

Prussia's demands were very reasonable. Although Britain had a long-standing grudge against France, it was also wary of the rising Prussia. At this point, it was difficult to guarantee that Britain would not support one side in the war, and on the battlefield, any variable could be fatal.

"A war must be fought before German unification, but France must first become the aggressor..." Richard murmured.

Eleanor looked at him in surprise and remained silent for a few seconds.

"You sound just like our Foreign Minister."

"Me? Like Bismarck?"

"Yes, it's the one without a beard." Eleanor held up a finger and touched his upper lip. "Now it looks like one."

Richard froze as she drew closer: "You're drunk."

"I don't."

Elinor's gaze made Richard's cheeks burn. The scent of red wine mingled with her perfume. Richard didn't back down, but he also refused to move forward even an inch.

"Ahem, you...you should go back," his voice was stiffer than I expected. "Shouldn't you go back and report that the mission was a success or something?"

Eleanor's hand slowly slid down, she rested her head on his shoulder, and then smiled: "You too, she should be worried."

"She should be asleep by now, and I can't keep playing the servant." Richard stood up awkwardly, the warmth of her fingertips still lingering on his lips.

"Yes, you look ridiculous wearing white gloves."

Eleanor had regained the way Richard had first met her, dignified like an oil painting, and she tucked her hair behind her ear.

"So you need me to call you a carriage, or have you already prepared an escape route?" Richard took off his gloves.

"No need, I'll go through the front door." Eleanor stood up, her handbag slung over her forearm.

"War is coming, Richard..." She turned to him. "I'll soon find out if you really can predict the future."

After saying that, Eleanor walked back into the shadows.

Richard rubbed his frozen thighs. Now he had to figure out how to get out of this mansion and get rid of the smell on him.

He pulled his coat to his nose and smelled it; it still smelled like lily of the valley.

"Next time I'll carry cologne with me."

Richard tousled his hair, grabbed the half-finished bottle of red wine, and ran back to the banquet hall.

He ripped off his white tie and white gloves, looking like a drunken playboy, easily blending into the crowd dancing to orchestral music.

He walked past the servants and the kitchen, and was about to reach the back door when a voice called out to him: "Stop."

Richard turned around and saw the manager who had interviewed him earlier, who was now staring at him with a serious expression.

"I knew it. You applied for the waiter position to sneak into the banquet," the steward said, frowning.

"I...I'm so sorry, sir, it's like this..." Richard was about to explain when he was interrupted.

"I saw you in the garden, with that young lady; she's very beautiful." The steward's tone shifted, becoming like an elder advising a junior. "You snuck in because of her, didn't you?"

"She's not..." Richard started to say, but swallowed his words back. He nodded as if he had been exposed. "Yes, sir. I'm sorry."

"A rich girl and a poor boy, you remind me of my youth," the steward chuckled. "Go, young man, don't let her down."

"Yes, sir." Richard, holding the bottle, saluted him.

"Also, if one day you really want a stable job, come here." After saying this, the manager turned and returned to his busy work post.

Richard breathed a sigh of relief, pushed open the back door, and left the mansion.

Maybe he really was doing a good job? Richard thought to himself, if he accidentally went bankrupt, there was still a decent job waiting for him.

"That's not bad either," he said to himself, but he wouldn't go bankrupt because the Franco-Prussian War was about to break out, and he had to prepare in advance.