I'm the King of Curry at Hogwarts

Chapter 171 Emperor of the Miaolanxi Empire

The atmosphere at the ball was rather somber, perhaps because they were about to go to war. Almost everyone there... and every cat there was closely connected to the battlefield; they were either officers about to go to war or their family members.

Lord Meowlington sat to the side with an air of great composure, drinking his amber-colored liquor, which reflected the light and flickered as if revealing his ever-changing mood.

Duchess Georgiana then invited Meowlington to dance, and the social butterfly Meowlington did not refuse. To the latest waltz popular with the Burghers royal family, he and the Duchess danced a lively dance.

In this era, although the Holy Roman Empire, which was neither sacred, nor Roman, nor imperial, was ordered to disintegrate by His Majesty Napoleon, the royal claim of the Roman Burgh-Lorraine family still existed, so the legitimacy remained in the hands of the Roman Burgh family.

Even though only Austria remains as the main body now, as long as the Meowburg family does not die out or abdicate, the claim will always be in their hands.

Of course, Austria is also capable of great things; at least it has accomplished two things quite successfully.

One thing was successfully making people believe that Beethoven was Austrian, and the other was successfully making people believe that the failed art student who started World War II was German.

If you fail the exam, you can try again!

Of course, the most prominent figure in Austria at that time was not some powerful art student who went to Judea. At present, the most sought-after figure should be Archduke Karl.

He was also the last Holy Roman Emperor Franz II, and the current first Emperor of the Austrian Empire, Franz I.

It's quite chaotic, but since the country has changed its name, the generational order still needs to be re-established.

The Holy Roman Empire wasn't as terrifying as the internet portrays it to be. At least during the Hohenstaufen dynasty, its military prowess was quite strong. Many people know that the phrase "the empire on which the sun never sets" describes the once-powerful England, but few know that this phrase was used by Charles V, the Habsburg emperor of the Holy Roman Empire, to describe himself.

"On my land, the sun never sets, meow!" declared Emperor Charles V at the time.

Of course, Charles V's claim to the Holy Roman Emperor was obtained through bribery of the electors; generally, we refer to him as King Charles I of Spain.

After dancing with Duke Meowlington, Georgiana, out of politeness, wanted to invite Louis to dance as well. However, since Louis didn't quite fit the Meowlingtons' aesthetic, Georgiana gave up on her idea after hesitating for a moment.

"It's obvious that you and your female companion don't quite fit our aesthetic standards here, meow." Meowlington poured himself a little whiskey with his nimble paw, held it up to the light, and stared at the liquid in the glass with a slightly dazed look. After a while, he gently placed the glass on the table next to him.

"I've noticed this problem too." Louis didn't mind. To be honest, he wasn't a Fury fanatic. It was more important that these cats took a liking to him, okay?

Duke Meowlington laughed heartily, his sharp teeth gleaming coldly under the light—it was clear that His Excellency took great care of his teeth, otherwise how could he have such a fine set of teeth?

"At your age, I've already had two or three female companions, meow." Duke Meowlington crossed his legs elegantly. "Oh right, how old are you this year?"

"Fourteen," Louis replied, picking up a cookie as he did so.

"Ah...fourteen." Duke Meowlington's cheeks would have been flushed if it weren't for his cat fur. He thought for a moment, then tried to justify himself, saying, "Fourteen years old, ha... well, you really are quite promising for your age, meow."

"Tsk, except for that short one, all three of them are my women," Louis said seriously, pointing to two ladies who were engrossed in watching the cats dance.

Of course, he was boasting for the sake of his manly pride, so he mentally sent a message to Christa to shut up and not say a word.

Christa wanted to retort, but dared not. To be honest, as Louis's personal maid, she would have been a concubine in ancient times, how could she possibly escape being taken by Louis? On the other hand, the main reason was that Louis was rather handsome, so it wouldn't hurt for him to get a little verbal advantage.

Duke Meowlington opened his eyes wide, his expression solemn and respectful, as if he were re-evaluating Louis.

"A hero's age doesn't matter, I admire you, meow." This time, Duke Meowlington sincerely gave Louis a thumbs up, thanks to the agility of his cat paws.

"You flatter me." Louis said with a touch of smugness, casually hooking Christa's chin, causing her to squint her eyes in comfort.

Perhaps dragons, like cats, enjoy having their chins touched for no reason?

Just then, a messenger dressed in disheveled clothes entered from outside; Louis recognized him from his attire.

The messenger walked up to Meowlington, stood at attention and saluted, and Duke Meowlington also stood up to return the salute.

"Reporting to Your Excellency the Marshal..."

Seeing that the messenger had attracted the attention of others, Duke Meowlington immediately interrupted him: "Alright, I know. Shh, give me the letter."

After handing the letter to Meowlington, the messenger saluted and turned to leave the ball.

After putting the letter in his pocket, Duke Meowlington glanced at the people staring at him and said with a smile, "Please continue, everyone. This is just a very ordinary letter from home."

After receiving his answer, the crowd resumed its noisy activity.

After people’s attention had been diverted, Duke Meowlington opened the letter.

It was a letter from William the Prince of Orange of the Netherlands.

The letter was written around 10 a.m., and it roughly stated that the Prussian army was being attacked by the French and forced to retreat from Freruth. Since Freruth is located northeast of Charleroi, this meant that the French had already crossed the Sambre River.

The letter contained no description of the true strength of the French army, which made Duke Merrington somewhat hesitant.

Before long, he made up his mind, summoned the messenger, and asked him to deliver a message to the Prince of Orange, ordering him to return to the battlefield immediately.

The messenger hurried off, carrying Duke Meowlington's instructions.

As a renowned connoisseur, the Duke of Meowlington had discerned Napoleon's true intentions from subtle clues—of course, his discernment was not the same as Pique's ability to see through Ronaldo's attack; history has proven his judgment correct.

Otherwise, he would have seen through it long ago, before Pique.

"Let's go, Louis, let's go eat." Catlington, who saw through Napoleon's intentions, was very relaxed, even his whiskers were trembling with happiness.

"I'm a little hungry too," Louis said with a smile and a nod.

The cats' dinners always included seafood and poultry, especially black truffles, which had recently gained fame after Napoleon ate them and subsequently fathered a son. At this time, the customs of Russian cuisine had not yet become popular, and the cat servants constantly moved about, serving the guests one delicious dish after another.

"The battlefield conditions are rudimentary, let's make do with this meal," Duke Meowlington said, casually using a spoon to spread a spoonful of plump caviar evenly on the bread, then opening his cat mouth and swallowing it in one gulp.

As the delicious food entered his mouth, Meowlington's eyes closed slightly, his whiskers trembling, looking extremely satisfied.

Soldiers, after all, don't have many rules about eating. Louis's manners were impeccable when outsiders were present, which made Meowlington admire him repeatedly.

"Elegant, so very elegant," Duke Meowlington said, shaking his head. "I think you must be a nobleman from the Far East, otherwise you wouldn't have such an inner grace."

Louis thought to himself, "I am the Duke of Cambridge next door to you."

Of course, he couldn't tell the truth, so he could only say with a smile, "You guessed right, I also happen to be a duke."

"Oh, that's great!" Meowlington's expression was even more satisfied. He reached out his paw and patted Louis's arm, feeling that this time he had truly accepted Louis.

The British in this era, and not just the British, the whole world is like this.

If you don't have some inherited status in your family, you're just a nouveau riche.

After eating only a few bites, a Norwegian Forest Cat with glossy fur hurriedly walked in from outside. It looked quite young.

"Your Excellency Marshal, Your Excellency Marshal!" he called out repeatedly.

Poor Duke Meowlington, who had just taken a bite of bread—which he still had in his mouth, looking utterly adorable—heared a familiar voice and turned around in shock, quickly pulling the bread from his mouth: "William? Didn't I tell you to go back to the battlefield? Why are you back in Brussels?"

The newcomer was none other than Prince William of Orange.

This Prince of Orange is generally known in history as William II—not the later Lord William II of Old Berlin, the diplomatic genius with a large beard, but William of the Netherlands.

Yes, the prince of the Netherlands, but his home is in Brussels.

William didn't have time to say much. He looked around and sat down next to Meowlington. After receiving a credible hint from Louis, William whispered, "At 10:30, Napoleon was almost at Four Arms..."

"I understand, William. You should return to your troops," Duke Meowlington said, frowning.

"But, Your Excellency..." William wanted to say something more, but he saw that Meowlington was staring intently at him.

"William, you need to go back to your unit. Your soldiers need you more now." Meowlington's tone was firm: "Don't worry, I have prepared a complete plan. You just need to relax."

"Okay." William nodded, then left in a hurry without even eating, looking preoccupied.

After eating and chatting for about twenty minutes, Duke Meowlington led his men into Duke Meowsman's study, where a map of the entire battlefield was displayed.

He examined the map carefully and exclaimed from the bottom of his heart, "God! Napoleon has disgraced me; he has been advancing on me for a full twenty-four hours..."

That's the sentence that makes it hard not to think the wrong thing.

Standing before the map, Meowlington worried that his army would be unable to stop Napoleon's offensive at Four Arms. After much deliberation, he decided to make the small village on the map, which looked to be in a good location, his decisive battleground.

When asked by the other generals what he planned to do, Meowlington replied, "I have ordered the army to Four Arms Village, but I will not engage him in a decisive battle there. If a decisive battle is necessary, I must fight him here."

Louis, with his sharp eyes, noticed that Meowlington pointed his thumb to a place called Waterloo.

His reason for sending the British reserves in Brussels to the further-advancing village of Four Arms was to buy time for his main force to advance to Waterloo. That was all he could do now; the role of Four Arms was merely to delay the French advance, buying him and Blücher precious time to assemble their troops.

In the early hours of the morning, the dance ended in a somber atmosphere, and the soldiers departed one by one. Mothers, wives, and girlfriends wept, embraced, and waved to their male cats to go to battle. Some didn't even have time to change their clothes, heading towards Four Arms Village in their knee-length trousers, stockings, and ballet shoes.

"This is a night of life and death." Duke Meowlington looked at the sorrowful scene before him and couldn't help but feel a pang of sadness.

Louis shook his head, saying with a touch of melancholy, "It's just a pity about those abandoned bones along the Rhine; perhaps they are still the men their wives dream of back home..."

What he said wasn't wrong, after all, a tributary of the Rhine River originates in Belgium. Perhaps no one knows which tributary it is, but the name Rhine is known to everyone from Ireland to the Khitan.

Catherine looked at Louis with pride, feeling smug and thinking, "My little deer is amazing."

Meowlington paused for a moment, carefully considering Louis's words, and exclaimed in admiration, "Your writing is truly excellent."

But no one noticed Ye Ziyan's unintentional eye roll.

This brat is translating poetry again to pretend he's cultured...

While waiting to leave was getting a little boring, Louis caught a glimpse of Chromie waving at him out of the corner of his eye.

"What's wrong?" Louis asked curiously.

Cromi mysteriously pulled Louis aside, found a secluded spot, and whispered, "Would you like to see what Napoleon is doing right now?"

"You can see it?" Louis perked up immediately. He had always been curious about what breed of cat Napoleon would be...

Chromie snapped his fingers, and Louis was instantly enveloped in the Sands of Time. In a daze, as if he were wearing VR equipment, Louis felt as if he were in a strange place.

Before them was a huge map, and in front of the map stood a golden-haired man wearing a coat.

Chubby and with a憨厚 (honest and simple) appearance, Louis almost couldn't resist going up to pet him, but Chromie stopped him.

"This is Napoleon," Chromie introduced to Louis in a normal speaking volume. Sure enough, even though her voice was quite loud, no one in the meeting room noticed their presence.

Soon, Napoleon, who was in front of the map, moved. He looked around at the generals sitting below and began his pre-battle speech.

Napoleon's accent was strange, a French with a bit of an Italian maritime flavor. If Louis hadn't been constantly influenced by Vitalis, he really wouldn't have been able to understand what he was saying.

(End of this chapter)