Europa Universalis 1867: Start by inheriting an armory

The prince stood up and straightened the collar of his vest, and Cavill followed suit.

When the others saw the prince stand up, they all put down their wine glasses.

The smoke in the smoking room hadn't completely dissipated, but the relaxed atmosphere was already fading, replaced by a sense of melancholy as the banquet drew to a close.

The prince walked to the fireplace, cleared his throat, and the room fell silent, just as it had been at the dinner party when he tapped his wine glass with his fork; everyone waited for him to speak.

"Gentlemen," he said, "the drinks were excellent tonight, and the gunfights were a great success, but as night falls, we all have to go home. Finally, let's raise one last toast..."

He raised his empty glass, and a waiter immediately came forward to refill it.

"For Her Majesty the Queen."

"For Her Majesty the Queen!" Everyone raised their glasses at the same time and drank them down in one gulp.

Then came the routine handshake goodbye.

The prince stood at the door, shaking hands with each departing guest and saying a few brief words.

When it was Richard's turn, the prince held his hand with a firmer grip than at the banquet.

"You are a very promising young man," the Prince said. "I hope you will always be on the right side and serve Her Majesty the Queen."

"I certainly will, Your Highness." Richard bowed slightly.

The prince released his grip and turned to the next person.

Richard walked up to Cavill, who was talking to a naval officer. When he saw Richard approaching, he nodded to the officer, who then discreetly walked away.

"You did a great job today," Cavill said, resuming his earlier brisk pace. "As for your next phase of work, we'll be watching closely. If you encounter any difficulties... feel free to come to me."

Richard knew he was just being polite, but it was still a high compliment to himself.

"Thank you, goodnight sir," Richard said.

The two shook hands, and Richard turned and walked out of the smoking room and down the stairs.

Most of the chandeliers on the first floor had been turned off, leaving only a few kerosene lamps still lit. The oil paintings and battle flags stood silently in the darkness, like rows of silent veterans.

He pushed open the door, and the cold midnight wind rushed in, chilling him to the bone. A carriage was parked at the bottom of the steps of the hall, and the coachman was wrapped in a dark coat, his hands tucked into his sleeves, his head bowed.

Richard opened the car door. Drowsiness, mixed with alcohol, made his steps a little unsteady, but his mind was still relatively clear.

"Kensington Avenue, 228B," he said.

The carriage did not move.

Richard frowned and tapped on the side of the carriage: "Kensington Avenue, 228B, did you hear me?"

The driver turned around.

In the dim light, Richard could see the face clearly: high cheekbones, deep-set eyes, and an old scar running from the cheekbone to the temple.

It's Hans.

"Good evening, Richard," Hans said. "I see you've climbed into high society now?"

"What the hell..." Richard was suddenly wide awake, and even the alcohol seemed to have worn off.

Seeing the astonished look on Richard's face, Hans tilted his head slightly, as if the trip had been worthwhile.

He pulled his hands out of his sleeves and grasped the reins.

"Are you crazy?" Richard demanded in a low voice. "This is the Army and Navy Club. The Prince of Cambridge just walked out of that door, and Viscount Cavill is still inside. You…"

“I recognize the road sign,” Hans interrupted him. “I’m just curious, why didn’t you tell Eleanor you were attending a party like this?”

"I did it on purpose. I didn't even tell her, so don't expect to get anything out of me."

"What a pity," Hans tilted his head, "I thought you two were best friends who could talk about anything."

Richard rolled his eyes. "I want a different car."

Hans took out his pipe and put it in his mouth: "At this hour, if you try to find another carriage, you'll probably have to walk home."

Richard glanced at the empty street, gritted his teeth, opened the car door, and got in.

The carriage started moving slowly. Richard leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, staring at the back of Hans's head.

"You didn't just come here to take me home, did you?" Richard said.

Hans took the pipe out of his mouth and traced a small arc in the air: "Of course not. I brought two pieces of news, one good and one bad. Which do you want to hear first?"

"Bad."

"The bad news is that the arms deal with Fennia is already complete, and this riot is inevitable whether you are here or not."

Richard sighed. He had already guessed it, but he still had to act, pretending that the news had struck a nerve.

"...Are you crazy?" he said deliberately in a hoarse voice. "Aren't you afraid of being watched by the Secret Service?"

"Do you think I'd let them cause trouble?" Hans sneered.

Richard closed his eyes, pretending to process the bad news, but actually waiting for Hans to tell him the good news.

Then, Hans's voice drifted from the front seat: "The good news is, your factory will not be affected in any way."

This news was within Richard's expectations, but it hardly counted as intelligence, because Richard already knew his factory would be safe and sound due to his deal with Eleanor.

"You...you don't want me to thank you, do you?" Richard asked reluctantly.

"Although I'd love to take the credit for myself," Hans shook his head, "the person who decided not to touch your factory wasn't me, but someone you absolutely know."

Richard was stunned. The person he knew, someone who could influence the Fenia movement, had to be someone who knew about his factory. Several faces flashed through his mind, but he couldn't make heads or tails of them.

"Who is it?" he asked.

Hans did not answer, but simply kept driving the carriage, as if hoping that the conversation between the two would end as soon as possible.

"You're just teasing me."

"I'm making sure my plan works," Hans replied. "You'll know when the time is right."

Richard clenched his fists. He knew Hans wouldn't say anything more, and that asking further would only make him seem more anxious, which was exactly what Hans wanted to see in him.

The carriage stopped in front of the mansion on Kensington Street. Hans jumped out, opened the carriage door, bowed slightly, and made a "please" gesture.

His demeanor was that of a true coachman, respectful and silent; if Richard hadn't already known him, he would have been truly intimidated.

Richard got out of the carriage, stood on the steps, and watched Hans climb back to the driver's seat and pick up the reins.

"Goodnight, Richard," he said.

The carriage slowly started moving and eventually disappeared around the street corner.

Richard rubbed his face, turned around, opened the door, and quietly went upstairs. Louise was already asleep, and he didn't want to disturb her.

The room was dark, the fire in the fireplace had gone out, and Richard's mind was still replaying Hans's words.

His factory will not be affected.

At least for the next few nights, he could sleep more soundly.