The Shadow of Great Britain

453: Chapter 251: The Grandeur of the Sword Saint (5K6) 453: Chapter 251: The Grandeur of the Sword Saint (5K6) The evening’s cold wind, accompanied by a light rain, swept into the private box, soaking the curtains that hung by the window.

Bertrand’s brow was beaded with sweat; glancing at the briefcase filled with banknotes, as a swordsman with excellent vision, he felt as if he could discern the sharp edges of each note.

Arthur looked at him with a smile and said, “So, Mr.

Bertrand, what do you think?”

Bertrand snorted, his hand pressing down on the lid of the briefcase with a snap as he closed it.

He stood up and glared at Arthur, “Mr.

Hasting, are you trying to buy my honor with money?

I, Francois-Joseph Bertrand, the glory of modern swordsmanship, the representative of French foil!

Measuring my worth with British Pounds, this is by far the greatest insult I have suffered since my birth!”

Upon hearing this, Arthur could only sigh helplessly, a hand pressed to his brow as he gently shook his head, “Louis.”

Louis Bonaparte, hearing his superior speak, merely pulled another warm check from his pocket and placed it on the briefcase with a grim face.

He said, “As you can see, Mr.

Bertrand, there are nine stacks of notes in this briefcase, ten in each stack, each note worth a pound, totaling ninety British Pounds.

The check I have here is a bearer’s draft from the Rothschild bank, valued at one hundred and twenty pounds.

Adding the appearance fee you received from the organizers, you can earn two hundred and sixty pounds from this duel.

The current exchange rate between British Pounds and Francs is approximately one to twenty-five, so two hundred and sixty pounds represents six thousand five hundred Francs.”

“As far as I know, this sum of money is enough for you to buy a house with a garden on Paris’s Champs-Elysees.

Or, if you want a steady return, you could deposit the six thousand five hundred Francs in Rothschild’s Paris branch, where the annuity rate is around 5%, yielding an income of three hundred and twenty-five Francs a year.

While it may not be enough for a feast every meal, it should suffice for a daily visit to an ordinary establishment,”

Arthur, hearing this, merely smiled and spoke, “Louis, I thought you grew up in Switzerland and perhaps are not well-versed in Paris prices.”

Louis Bonaparte, at these words, humbly smiled and said, “Indeed, I do not understand.

But have you forgotten, Mr.

Dumas is an expert in Parisian life, and almost all my understanding of the prices there comes from ‘The Count of Monte Cristo.’”

Arthur nodded slightly and once again directed his gaze towards the sweat-drenched Bertrand, “So, Mr.

Bertrand, as you can see, the weight of friendship is as substantial as a garden house on the Champs-Elysees.

Sometimes, one must choose between honor and friendship; the lonely strong are always short on friends, much like Master George Silver.

I understand his desire to uphold the traditions of English swordsmanship, but sometimes speaking more diplomatically and finding a more appropriate method can be beneficial to the advancement of his beloved English Shortsword technique.”

“However, it’s precisely because Master George Silver wouldn’t bend that now, his Silverflow Swordsmanship has been swept into the annals of history alongside England’s declining martial virtues, as you have seen in London.

In this regard, Master Michael Hunter has done well; he understands that times change, and so sometimes, swordsmen must also change their techniques.”

“No offense, Mr.

Bertrand, although we’re about to be opponents on the dueling stage.

I actually have the utmost admiration for your swordsmanship philosophy.

You have innovatively reduced the traditional eight fencing positions to the four most commonly used and shifted the center of gravity forward between the legs, allowing for the swordsman’s ripostes to follow closely on the heels of their defense.”

“Such techniques are very avant-garde and in keeping with Master Hunter’s philosophy of being unbound by form, ready to change at any moment.

In terms of swordsmanship, you are truly a master, and I’m but a novice.

However, you understand that on England’s stage, if our duel is not spectacular, if we both resort to unseemly defensive postures to win, oh my God, I cannot begin to imagine what would happen.”

“You may not be aware, but the London audience is extremely volatile; if they lose interest in the opening fight, then the following performances won’t be able to proceed as planned.

The stage would be overturned, with flying bottles everywhere in the stands.

Mr.

Bertrand, believe me, I’m a Scotland Yard officer, and I’m all too familiar with the riots that might break out during such major events,”

Beads of sweat from Bertrand’s forehead kept dripping onto the backs of his hands; his vulture-like gaze fixed on Arthur, filled with the young police officer’s gentle smile.

He longed to stand up and declare that his honor was not for sale, to denounce Arthur’s unethical behavior.

But, but…

The offer was simply too much!

Bertrand took a deep breath and said, “Mr.

Hasting, you have always known that I value honor highly and would not easily abandon it.”

Arthur nodded and smiled, “True, valuing honor is a necessity for a swordsman.”

Bertrand stood up, emphasizing excitedly, “But I also treasure the friendship with my friends just as dearly!”