Europa Universalis 1867: Start by inheriting an armory

Hans was sandwiched between two patrolmen, one on his left and one on his right, at a distance from which he had no way to escape.

He picked up his glass, downed the whiskey in one gulp, put the glass down, and stood up.

Detective Logan stood in front of him, one hand in his pocket and the other close to the gun at his waist.

"Inspector," Hans replied calmly, "is harassing ordinary citizens your style at Scotland Yard?"

Logan silently walked forward, reached out and patted Hans's coat from top to bottom, from the shoulders to the chest and then to the waist.

His hand paused in Hans's right pocket; there was something inside—paper and metal.

Logan reached into his pocket and pulled out a black-covered notebook and a ring. The notebook's edges were worn, revealing grayish-white paper inside.

The ring was made of silver, with a line of very small characters engraved inside the band, the contents of which were illegible under the gaslight.

Logan opened the notebook, glanced at it, then held the ring up to the light, squinted at the engraving on the inner band, and looked up at Hans, saying:

"The murder of customs officer Benjamin Brendel on Clarence Street in the East End, and the discovery of the unidentified woman's body along the Thames the day before yesterday—these two pieces of evidence are highly relevant to the case, so I'm afraid you'll have to come with me."

Logan put the notebook and ring into a paper bag and took out a handkerchief to wipe his hands.

Hans stared at the notebook and ring in the bag; he had never seen either of these things before.

Suddenly, he remembered that when he entered the tavern, someone had brushed against him at the entrance.

A petite woman walked out with her head down, like any ordinary person hurrying on their way.

He didn't pay any attention at the time; he was still thinking about how to teach Richard a lesson for daring to use such tricks to deceive him.

Now he knows he was wrong.

The patrolman stepped forward, pulled Hans's hand behind his back, and the metal handcuffs clicked onto his wrists.

The icy touch extended upwards from his wrist. He clenched his fist, but didn't struggle; struggling was useless.

At that moment, the tavern door was pushed open.

Richard was standing in the doorway when a small, thin figure flashed past him and disappeared into the shadows at the alley entrance.

Millie.

Millie, the receptionist at Eleanor's shop, was someone Hans barely glanced at, yet he ordered her around to pour tea, leaving bruises on her wrists.

Hans looked at Richard with a cold smile. He knew that Richard was behind it all, and that his location was probably revealed by Eleanor. His lips twitched slightly.

"Didn't you say the ledger wasn't in your possession?" Richard walked up to him, feigning confusion, and asked, "What's going on? I didn't know you had a habit of collecting trophies."

Hans nodded, and the police officers on both sides tried to pull him away, but he remained motionless, as if he had something to say.

"You think arresting me will solve Fennia's problem?" Hans's words were laced with mockery. "The clockwork has been wound up for a long time, just waiting for it to unwind. That day is still a long way off."

Richard frowned.

Logan stepped forward and helped push Hans toward the door.

Hans's back remained straight, and his steps remained steady.

As he walked through that door, the sunlight outside made the old scar on his face exceptionally clear, like a withered centipede nailed to the wall.

The door closed, and the tavern returned to silence.

The bartender stood behind the counter, holding a glass-wiping cloth, frozen in fear. He couldn't understand why Scotland Yard detectives would take away his customer, or a serial killer.

With a creak, the side door was pushed open, and Millie poked half her body in. She first glanced cautiously at where Hans had been, then at Richard, before finally emerging from the crack in the door.

Her face flushed red, and her tone was filled with childlike excitement—she was still a teenager.

"Mr. Brian!" She rushed to Richard. "How did I do? He didn't even feel it when it was put in his pocket!"

"Well done," Richard said. "Without you, this wouldn't have happened today."

Millie's smile widened even further.

"Did Eleanor teach you those moves?" Richard asked, carefully choosing his words.

“No,” Millie shook her head. “It’s something I learned in the factory when I was a kid. Back then, my friends and I were always hungry. When we were handing out bread, my hands were small and I was quick, so I could always hide a couple extra pieces of bread so we wouldn’t starve.”

Richard paused, wanting to say something but unsure how to begin. You can't just say something like "You've had a tough time" or "You're very strong" to a group of people struggling on the brink of life and death.

All you need to do is nod and remember.

Millie understood his silence and tugged at his sleeve, like a kitten touching water for the first time.

"Mr. Brian," she asked, "does this mean... I can do more for you and Mrs. Eleanor in the future? I learn everything very quickly, you can ask Mrs..."

"Millie," Richard interrupted her.

She shut her mouth.

Richard bent down and watched as the excitement on her face gradually faded.

"This is your first appearance," Richard said, "and your last."

Millie bit her lip; she knew Richard was serious.

“You’re still young,” Richard advised. “This isn’t the path for you. I promised Eleanor that this would be the last time I would let you get involved in this mess.”

Although the inspector also felt that Millie's skills would be of great benefit, he could not bear to involve a sixteen-year-old girl in the conflict between two countries, so he had to tell Millie the news in person so that she could give up.

Millie looked down at her toes, her shoulders hunched, but she didn't argue.

She wanted to help Eleanor so much, but she respected Eleanor's orders even more.

"Did Mrs. Eleanor say that?" she asked.

"She agreed with what I said."

Millie was silent for a few seconds, then gave a forced smile, a smile that was both regretful and compliant.

"Then I'll go back to the store," she said.

"Go."

Millie turned around and walked out of the bar.

Richard straightened up. A Prussian spy had been imprisoned, and he himself had orchestrated the arrest. Perhaps Mr. Nose would lock him up in the Secret Service's black jail, or some remote cell, so they could "have a good chat."

Richard didn't want to deal with it anymore; he had to get on to the next place. After all, there was a riot in Fennia in Blackville that he needed to handle, and there was also Sera...

He didn't know how to face this woman and her five-year-old child.

But Hans is right: there's still a long day ahead.