The Shadow of Great Britain

456: Chapter 252: The Hot-Tempered German Poet (5K4) 456: Chapter 252: The Hot-Tempered German Poet (5K4) The early morning in London still carried the silk-like drizzle that was ever so common.

On Doughty Street, Southwark, London, sturdy boots crushed into the puddles between the brick seams, splashing water everywhere.

Tough leather thigh-high boots, tight-fitting deerskin riding breeches, paired with a perfectly-fitted hourglass-shaped blue-black frock coat, a belt with a silver buckle, a cream-colored waistcoat matched with a deep black linen shirt with ruffled trim, and a cravat.

Soft white gloves raised delicately upwards, a black cloth umbrella slightly propped open, revealing the pair of black eyes with a red glint hidden underneath and a high-top hat.

Arthur had a pipe in his mouth, emitting puffs of white vapor from his nose now and then, making it difficult to distinguish whether the vapor was mostly steam or nicotine.

Accompanying Arthur was his French police secretary, who perhaps, because he had not joined Scotland Yard for long, had not yet passed his enthusiasm for police uniforms.

Even though Arthur required plain clothes for todays, Louis Bonaparte still dressed in an outfit quite similar to his usual on-duty uniform.

The only difference in his attire today might have been that he had swapped his dark blue Scotland Yard tailcoat for a black one.

The two strolled and chatted idly.

Louis smiled, “Sir, you…”

Before Louis could finish his sentence, he saw Arthur wave his hand and say, “Although it is working hours now, we’re not at Scotland Yard, and this time it’s an undercover mission, so there’s no need for you to call me sir.

Just call me Arthur.

You know, I like making friends, and although I already have a French fatty as a friend, I don’t mind making friends with a skinny one too.

Preserving diversity is important for Earth as well as for friends.”

“Very well then, Arthur.”

Louis smirked and said, “But isn’t using ‘biological diversity’ to describe making friends a bit too much?

Although I don’t mind joking with friends, some people can’t take such jokes.

Unless…

do you usually make friends with monkeys?”

Arthur, with his pipe clenched in his lips, nodded expressionlessly, “Louis, it seems you’ve become a qualified detective.

Perhaps before long, I could consider giving you some cases to investigate from the Criminal Investigation Department.

I must say, you have quite a talent for being a police officer.”

Louis asked with a smile, “Arthur, you haven’t answered me yet.

Do you really make friends with monkeys?

Did you meet at the London Zoo?”

Upon hearing this, Arthur stopped abruptly, inhaling deeply, “Louis…”

“What is it?”

“Don’t go giving nicknames to my alma mater!”

Louis exclaimed in surprise, “Ah?

I know the University of London has a broad educational philosophy, but do they actually accept monkeys?

How did it sneak in?”

“I don’t know, perhaps because the cage in the lower house wasn’t locked properly.

But what’s so strange about a monkey attending university?

The species is naturally diligent, and they even study Polish when they have nothing else to do.”

To prove his point, Arthur didn’t forget to pull out the “Bernie Harrison’s Wonderful Journey” book that Martin had given him.

He stuffed the book into Louis’s hands and said, “See, monkeys can write books too.”

Louis Bonaparte was initially puzzled, but when he saw the name Bernie Harrison, he burst out laughing and asked, “If that’s the case, why don’t you hire a monkey to publish novels in ‘The British’?

Arthur, haven’t you always complained about lacking authors?”

Arthur, taking a draw from his pipe, replied, “We did have one before, but he returned to his home in South America a while ago.”

“Home in South America?”

Hearing Louis’s question, Arthur knew the conversation couldn’t continue any further.

At the moment, “The British” was struggling to establish Eld’s shining image in Britain; this carefully constructed ‘kind’ lie couldn’t fall apart coming from his own mouth.

Arthur glanced at Louis’s attire and changed the subject, “What’s this?

Haven’t you grown tired of the Scotland Yard uniform yet?

Even when I mentioned civilian clothes, you only chose a piece that was a similar style, just in a different color.

Do you have some special fondness for the uniform?”

Louis shook his head with a smile, “It’s not a particular fondness, really.

But I find that the quality of uniform is generally quite good, and the color coordination and design look very appealing.

Do you know why there were so many soldiers willing to serve for Napoleon?

Besides admiration for him, having a smart, handsome uniform to wear was an important factor.”

In Napoleon’s time, a regular French infantry’s full outfit was valued at 250 Francs, and if you were a Cavalryman, that was even more remarkable, going straight for five hundred Francs.

Becoming the heavy Cavalry or part of the Imperial Guard, that cost could soar to as much as 2000 Francs.

“Take the French Empire’s most elite, and my uncle’s most trusted Old Guard and Guard Cavalry, for example.

Guess how many sets of uniforms they had?”

Arthur pondered and replied off-hand, “Five sets?”

“Five sets?

You got half right.

The Old Guard did indeed have five sets.

But the Guard Cavalry had ten sets.”

Louis spoke proudly, “Combat dress, marching dress, field dress, everyday dress, duty dress, stable dress, social dress, casual dress, parade dress, grand parade full dress, they were all separate entities.

Plus, each regiment’s apparel had its own distinguishing features, much like Britain’s.

The fifth regiment wore white coats with lemon yellow trim and sky-blue breeches, while the seventh wore green coats with daffodil yellow trim and crimson breeches.”