The Shadow of Great Britain

290: Chapter 191 Special Commendation (4K8) 290: Chapter 191 Special Commendation (4K8) London, outside Westminster Palace, Scotland Yard had almost gathered all the available police force today to be in charge of security work here.

On the roads, one could see neatly dressed Scotland Yard policemen patrolling in groups, and near the palace gates were military police holding flintlock muskets with live ammunition.

They, too, came from Britain’s most elite troops—the Coldstream Guards.

As a Scotland Yard layabout deeply trusted by the higher-ups of both parties, Arthur, having dodged work for over a week, finally put in a legitimate day’s work today.

Police baton, white gloves, dark navy tailcoat verging on black, tight white jodhpurs, and high riding boots—after completing the routine patrol, Arthur, bored to tears, took off his black top hat, revealing his slicked-back hair, and snapped his gloves to dust off the gray that had settled on the brim of the hat.

Such actions quickly drew the attention of the surrounding military police, and just as they were about to step forward and scold the young policeman for not working hard enough, the corner of their eyes caught sight of the police rank insignia on Arthur’s shoulders, a pristine, untarnished gold and red Crown.

Although the Coldstream Guards didn’t quite understand how Scotland Yard’s police ranks were arranged, the entire Scotland Yard’s ranking system was basically established on the basis of Army ranks, and a crown insignia was enough to let the soldiers realize that this young man who appeared to be just over twenty probably held a certain status.

At least in the Army, a single crown represented the rank of Army Major, also implying he had the authority to command an infantry company of 150 men or command a cavalry squadron of 50.

A few non-commissioned officers to reprimand a Major?

Getting slapped twice would mean he was in a good mood today.

Though the soldiers felt they weren’t too bright, they still had a bit of sense.

Arthur hadn’t stood outside Westminster Palace’s avenue for long before he felt someone pat him on the shoulder.

He turned around to see Victor, already back in his normal attire.

“Good afternoon, Arthur.

Those few things I gave you, not bad, right?”

Arthur fished out a pack of tobacco from his pocket and threw it over, “I think they’re okay, but whether they’re good or not, it depends on what the higher-ups say.

To put it plainly, it depends on how today’s meeting goes, right?”

Victor struck a match and took a puff, “Haha, some say that the British Foreign Office always presents a disinterested, matter-of-fact attitude in foreign policy.

I used to think it was just a joke, but now that you say it like this, it seems quite true.

You did quite a lot no matter what effect it had; even if there was no credit, there was hard work.”

While Arthur watched Victor smoke, feeling an itch in his throat, he could only take a piece of candy from his pocket to satisfy his craving, since he was on official duty, “In Britain, there is no such thing as ‘hard work’.

If you expect the higher-ups to promote you just because you’ve done a lot of meaningless tasks, that’s not going to happen.”

Victor said, “That means your government is full of elites?”

Arthur shook his head, “Not necessarily.

There are plenty of useless people here too, but there are reasons we keep them around.”

“For example?”

Arthur explained, “For instance, I know of two utterly useless civil servants in the Treasury with very high seniority, whose only purpose is to fill the three-candidate shortlist during promotion evaluations, alongside the person the Chancellor of the Exchequer actually wants to promote.

Those two are so inept that if you were to pull any donkey off the street and put it alongside them on the promotion list, the donkey would easily get promoted to the next rank.”

Hearing this, Victor, who was smoking, coughed so hard that smoke came out of his mouth and nostrils.

Laughing, he cursed, “You Brits sure are damn creative.”

Arthur shrugged, “If you’re referring to scheming and dealing, then I suppose that’s true.

But speaking of which, what did Ambassador Talleyrand think of the things I sent with you to give to him?”

Victor whistled, “Monsieur Talleyrand was very satisfied; although I don’t know what use that stuff had for him, as long as he’s pleased, that’s enough.

He got what he wanted, the meeting went smoothly, so my position as head of the Security Department should also be secure now.”

Arthur interjected, “Was that a promise from Monsieur Talleyrand?

I remember he famously said—’The chameleon is a badge of politics; Kings often change their ministers, so I often change my kings.’ He switched allegiance from Louis XVI to the Republic, from the Republic to the Consulate, from the Consulate to Napoleon, from Napoleon to the restored Bourbon Dynasty, and now from the Bourbons to Louis Philippe.

Are you sure his promise is reliable?”

Victor just smiled, “I know Monsieur Talleyrand’s reputation isn’t too great, but calling him a chameleon is harsh.

If you actually spent time with him, you’d find out he’s not only unchangeable but sometimes even surprisingly forthright.

As for why Monsieur Talleyrand has switched allegiance to six different monarchs, I even joked with him about this a few days ago.

Can you guess what his answer was?”

“What did he say?”

Victor took another puff, “He said: ‘When I serve the motherland of France, I do not sacrifice her interests to the Government.

My policy has always been that of France, that of the nation, that of common sense, made according to the needs of the time.

As long as the king aligns with the public will, I will remain loyal to them.

And towards any party, I have never deserted it before it self-destructed.

If those who dislike me measured all my actions by this standard, they would see, regardless of appearances, that my actions bear no contradictions, thus proving that I have always been consistent.’”