Europa Universalis 1867: Start by inheriting an armory

It was a damp, moldy shack, filled with the smell of rust and sweat.

Richard was blindfolded after getting into the carriage and then carried for a short distance.

When the hood was removed, the light from the gas lamp made him squint.

This is a basement with four rough stone walls covered with a fine layer of water droplets.

The only small window was nailed shut from the outside with wooden planks, and not a single ray of light could get in through the gaps in the planks, making it impossible to distinguish between day and night.

Mr. Nose—that is, Reginald—stood in the doorway with his hands behind his back, and one wonders how his shiny shoes could stand it.

Standing next to him was a burly man with a chin as wide as a chopping board, wearing a white shirt that looked like it was about to burst open and overalls, his hands clasped in front of him, like the kind of athlete who could crush walnuts with his bare hands.

"He's inside." Reginald tilted his head slightly, and the man with the big chin stepped forward, took a bunch of keys from his waist, fumbled around in the dim light for a few moments, and inserted them into the keyhole.

The iron gate creaked open.

Richard saw Hans.

He was locked to a chair, the back and seat of which were covered with a thin, old blanket.

His hands were chained to the armrests, his wrists were bruised, and the only piece of furniture in the whole room was this chair.

Hans's shirt, repeatedly soaked by sweat and dampness, began to turn white, like a roll of old newspaper soaked in water.

His face was covered with scars, but none of them were serious and would heal quickly.

His hair was a mess, with a few strands hanging down his forehead and stuck to his skin with sweat.

Richard pulled up a chair and sat down opposite him.

"Ten minutes," Reginald's voice came from behind, "I'm keeping track of it."

The iron gate closed, and the footsteps gradually faded away.

Hans didn't even look up, just glanced at Richard and chuckled, "Congratulations, you're now the cleanest person in this room, including those two good-for-nothings outside."

Richard crossed his arms.

"Without shedding blood," Hans licked his dry lips, "you defeated your rivals and locked me up in this..." He tilted his head, his gaze sweeping over the appalling surroundings and the den of some unknown animal in the corner, "...the dark cell. Now you can swagger around."

Richard shook his head: "I'm not here to show off, although I won't deny it, I kind of enjoy it."

"You won't be able to enjoy this for long," Hans said, narrowing his eyes.

"Your plan failed, but Sera is dead, and several Fenian people were killed in the process." Richard leaned forward. "The child lost its mother, the mother lost her son. And you... are still sitting here unharmed. I should have killed you while I still had the chance."

Hans tilted his head back, his neck cracking.

He brought his face very close, so close that Richard could smell the sour odor emanating from him.

"But you don't have the guts, do you?" A slow smirk played on his lips. "Or are you finally going to be a man and settle our score?"

Richard stared into his wolf-like eyes, his fingers clenching into fists.

Suddenly, he stood up and punched Hans in the face.

Hans tilted his head to the side, the veins on his neck bulging, and he fell to the ground along with the chair, the chains rattling loudly.

Blood flowed from his nostrils, down his philtrum, and past his lips.

A new bruise appeared next to the existing ones on his face, which were still healing; by this time tomorrow, it will turn a deep purple.

But Hans didn't get angry or curse; instead, he chuckled, his voice trembling and nasal.

"Even my fists are limp, I don't have the strength to hit anyone," he said, his voice slightly muffled because he was lying upside down.

Richard bent down, grabbed Hans by the collar with one hand and the back of the chair with the other, and pulled Hans up along with the chair.

“I know they can’t do anything to you,” Richard said, brushing the dust off his hands. “You won’t confess a single word.”

Hans sniffed, sucking the blood that had dripped onto his upper lip back, and licked the corner of his mouth with his tongue.

"Nonsense," he said calmly, "I've been through worse."

He thought for a moment, then looked at Richard: "I'm not that traitor Eleanor. What kind of spell did you cast on her to make her help you?"

"Have you ever considered," Richard said, "that it's possible you're a bastard yourself?"

Hans shook his head without any remorse.

"Unfortunately," Richard sighed, "I'm not here to take you to the gallows, but to deliver a message to you."

Hans shrugged. "Go ahead and tell me, I'm not going anywhere anyway."

"Last time you brought me both good news and bad news, and this time it's the same for me," Richard said. "Which would you like to hear first?"

Hans tilted his head, as if to confirm that this was not a joke.

"Good news," he said, "I'd be bored to death if I weren't in the same room with you."

Richard nodded.

"The good news is that you'll be out soon. The Secret Service has reached an agreement with Berlin to send you back in exchange for concessions from Prussia on certain political issues."

A hint of smugness flashed in Hans's eyes. This was a completely predictable outcome. For the Secret Service and the British government, using a spy as leverage was far more profitable than having him testify in court.

"Then why don't you take this opportunity to punch me a few more times?" he said. "Next time we meet, you're dead meat, I promise."

"Don't get too cocky," Richard said with a smile. "There's bad news too."

Hans's fingers twitched inside the chains: "How bad can it be?"

Richard walked up to Hans and whispered in his ear: "The bad news is, you have to go undercover in Prussia for me."

Hans was taken aback, then threw his head back and burst into laughter, as if trying to squeeze out the last bit of air from his lungs.

When he finally stopped, his eyes were filled with tears of laughter.

He took a deep breath and calmed himself down.

"They sent me to infiltrate your ranks, and you're sending me to infiltrate theirs. Do you think that punch just now made me stupid?"

"Not for any other reason than that you were arrested." Richard sat down again.

Hans's expression froze for a moment, then returned to calm: "Berlin knows I won't say anything; you can't fool them."

"Who said I was going to lie to them?" Richard retorted.

Hans's expression changed; he didn't know what other ideas Richard had.

Richard deliberately waited a while, as if to create anticipation.

"If you don't cooperate, I will make public the fact that Prussia is negotiating railway modernization and diplomatic plans with Tsarist Russia."

Hans's pupils dilated suddenly, and he stared intently at Richard.

"How did you know?" he forced out through clenched teeth. "Did Eleanor tell you?"

Richard shook his head. "Eleanor has been in London. Do you think she would know about the decisions made by the Berlin command?"

Hans's brow furrowed into a tight knot, and his breathing became heavier.

Because that agreement was real, Prussia and Tsarist Russia secretly negotiated on the modification of railway gauge and the coordination of wartime mobilization to ensure that Prussia's eastern front would not be interfered with by Tsarist Russia during the war against France.

This was the apple of the eye of the Berlin General Staff, the most important piece on Bismarck's chessboard.

Britain had always been wary of the alliance between Prussia and Tsarist Russia. If the plan were to be leaked, they would join forces with Denmark to blockade the Baltic Sea and cut off Prussia's import routes.

If their ironclad warships cannot leave port, they become like dry boats, and the situation they have painstakingly built up over the years will become worthless.

Looking at Hans's contorted and twitching face, Richard knew he only needed to deliver one more blow.

"If the British kill you, that's a diplomatic matter, but if you become a traitor to Prussia, I don't think they'll show any mercy to their own people."

Hans's face went from red to white, his jaw muscles tensed, but he had to force himself to calm down.

"What do you want?" Hans asked.

Richard covered his mouth with his hand and whispered a few words in Hans's ear.

After listening, Hans remained silent for three seconds, then said, "Ehrloser Wicht..."

Richard couldn't understand, but judging from his tone and the tremor deep in his throat, it wasn't something nice.

"Alright," Hans's voice regained some strength, "that's all. I don't care about anything else."

"This one is enough."

Richard stood up and put the chair back in its place.

He walked to the door, about to push it open, when Hans's voice came from behind him:

"One day, we'll meet on the battlefield. I'll enjoy slitting your throat."

Richard stopped and placed his hand on the door frame.

"Don't be silly," he said. "By then, you won't even be able to touch me."

He stepped out the door, the sound of chains being pulled tighter behind him followed by a low, suppressed roar that burst through the stone wall, chasing after Richard's retreating figure.