Europa Universalis 1867: Start by inheriting an armory

Richard sat on the sofa in Eleanor's clothing store, one of the few places he could think of where he was likely to run into Hans.

Sure enough, not long after, the door was pushed open.

It was already very late, and the elegant ladies who used to frequent Eleanor's shop had all disappeared. The newcomers outside brought with them the damp, cold wind from the street.

Hans has arrived.

He stood in the doorway, flicking his umbrella twice outside, causing a string of water droplets to fall from the tip, some landing inside and spreading on the wheat-colored carpet.

"I never expected," Hans said, closing the door and hanging his hat on the coat rack, "that there would be a day when you'd be waiting for me."

Richard put down his teacup; he had to speak to him in the most serious tone: "You killed Benjamin Brundell."

Hans paused for a moment, then resumed his movements: "Who?"

"The customs officer, in his forties, a bit overweight, you've seen him," Richard said. "In the Port of London, in warehouse B, on the night of the 22nd."

Hans's shoes clattered on the carpet. He looked around but saw neither Millie nor Eleanor. It was as if they knew he was coming and had deliberately hidden themselves.

He walked to the opposite side of the sofa with his hands in his pockets, leaned back in his chair, and said, "I don't know what you're talking about."

“There’s no need to lie anymore.” Richard looked him in the eyes. “Jessica told me everything.”

Hans's fingers twitched in his pocket: "Jessica?"

"Miss Secretary, your mole, the one who used her beauty and false promises to trick Benjamin into signing every document pushed in his face," Richard explained. "But I don't think her real name is Jessica."

Inspector Logan visited the entire port, interviewing all the staff who had met Miss Secretary, thus creating a vivid portrait of her character.

Richard, on the other hand, used Louise's connections in London to find a suitable actress. She didn't need to recite lines or practice; she just needed to wait to go on stage.

Hans chuckled lightly: "I don't know either of the two people you mentioned."

"Have you forgotten who I am?" Richard folded his hands. "I am the prophet."

He raised his hand and pointed out the window, and Hans looked in the direction he was pointing.

A woman stood on the street corner, her voluptuous figure wrapped in a snow-white long dress, her wide-brimmed hat pulled low, revealing only a pair of full red lips.

She stood there like a silhouette against the sky, then suddenly turned and disappeared into the alley, vanishing without a trace.

Hans lowered his head at an angle, then stiffly turned back to look at Richard.

“You made Benjamin think he would be promoted soon,” Richard said. “But you messed up this time because although Benjamin is greedy, there is a detail that everyone overlooks but he cares about: he loves his job.”

Hans raised an eyebrow and rummaged in his pocket, but there was no gun inside, which Richard could tell, giving him some confidence.

"I suspect Benjamin was cautious enough to have seen the shipment before signing. Maybe he discovered it was weapons, but he had already signed, so on the night of unloading, he went to the dock to see who he had actually given the clearance to, but unfortunately... he ran into you."

Hans gritted his teeth, his cheek muscles tensing instantly, but his expression still looked relaxed, even with a smile.

"You have a very vivid imagination," Hans said. "You should try writing novels."

Richard ignored him and continued, "You shouldn't have let her clean the house for you."

His words finally struck Hans, whose facial features became like those of a soldier hearing a rallying cry, as if facing a formidable enemy.

But this was actually Richard's guess, because he couldn't imagine Hans bending down to clean the house, and his bossy attitude towards Millie last time told him that Hans was definitely not the kind of person who would tidy up his own room.

He cleaned the study to create a false impression—perhaps he did it himself, and the entire first floor was cleaned to make others think Benjamin had gone on a long trip, since people habitually tidy up their rooms when they go on a trip.

"If he hadn't come to the port to meddle that night, he wouldn't have died." The cold words were squeezed out from his thin lips.

Richard breathed a sigh of relief; he knew he had made the right bet.

"What are you planning to do?" Hans straightened up, walked up to Richard, and looked down at him. "Call the police? You're not that stupid. Try to subdue me? You don't have the ability. In the end, you'll just have to let me walk out this door obediently."

“No,” Richard shook his head, “I can persuade the Secret Service to protect Jessica, after all, they must be very interested in the activities of Prussian spies in London.”

Hans paused for a moment, then calmly sat down in the chair opposite Richard and crossed his legs.

There was something gleaming in his eyes, Richard could tell, that he was calculating his escape route, but there was a hint of appreciation on the corner of his mouth.

"What do you want?" Hans asked.

"Send a spy to take the blame," Richard said. "Go to the police station and confess, to give Benjamin's widow some closure. You said it's easy to replace a spy. But it can't be Jessica; she could disappear in London at any time."

Hans stared at him for a few seconds, then suddenly burst into laughter, like a hunter deliberately shooting at a stag's carcass, not hesitating to spend the value of its fur, just to make up for the long journey of more than ten miles.

"You're really amazing, especially for a layman like me." Hans wiped away the tears of laughter from the corners of his eyes.

Richard's heart skipped a beat: "What do you mean?"

"You'll never see Jessica." Hans leaned back in his chair, his hands clasped behind his head. "Because I killed her and threw her into the Thames. Maybe the tide will wash her ashore in a few days, maybe it won't, but you'll never see her."

"Impossible, you're lying." Richard felt a jolt of electricity through his spinal cord, and his extremities were chilled to the bone, but he forced himself to look Hans straight into his eyes.

"You know, we're all agonizing over the same thing," Hans said, calming himself. "If the deal was already done, why did Benjamin come to the port? Your answer is his sense of responsibility. But that's impossible. I made sure he knew the consequences of leaking information... his daughter."

He paused.

"My answer is Jessica. Maybe she slipped up under pressure, maybe she betrayed us long ago, but I only have one choice: to eliminate her completely."

Richard swallowed hard. He had only ever seen this kind of person in movies before—cold-blooded, cruel, and obsessed with honor.

But that was almost a consensus among all Prussian soldiers at the time: national interests came first, and a civilian female spy was merely an acceptable loss, even if it required him to take action himself.

Seeing that Richard was speechless, Hans stood up and straightened the collar of his coat.

"You're still alive only because you're my primary mission target, and you'd better not even think about contacting the Secret Service, otherwise..." He didn't finish the sentence, but just smiled and patted Richard's thigh.

Richard was startled by the movement, and his shoulders involuntarily hunched over.

Hans looked at his startled expression, gave a light, amused hum, and turned to walk towards the door.

"Hans." Richard's voice came from behind.

Hans stopped and waited for him to finish.

"Did you take Benjamin's ledger?"

Hans turned around, looking bewildered: "What ledger?"

"Benjamin's personal accounts, things he'd kept for over a decade," Richard said. "Didn't you see them when you were cleaning the study?"

Hans shook his head: "I don't know what you're talking about. Besides, what use would I have for that thing?"

He reached out and pushed open the door, but stopped just as he stepped out the threshold, turning his head to leave a message.

"Stop playing with fire, you amateur."

The door closed.

Richard sat motionless on the sofa, feeling beads of sweat rolling down his forehead, down the bridge of his nose, and dripping onto the back of his hand. He raised his hand and wiped it with his sleeve, only to find that his fingers were trembling.

He had always been wary of Hans, but only today did he truly realize who he was dealing with.

A man who can kill an innocent woman, even one of his own kind, without hesitation after a mission is over, simply because she might threaten his objectives, without even a moment's hesitation or remorse.

If Fennia is a ticking time bomb, then Hans is a landmine beneath his own feet; he must deal with this man.