The Shadow of Great Britain

The last whistle of the steam locomotive was drowned in the echoes deep within the rails, as Arthur stood on the carriage step, having yet to fully recover from the long journey.

He looked up, and although the platform at Brussels Railway Station was not very spacious, it appeared much more orderly compared to the half-finished sheds in the suburbs of Paris. The station shed, built with red bricks and iron trusses, had crisscrossing tracks gleaming like mercury under the sun. A tricolor flag of the Belgian Kingdom fluttered with the gentle breeze on the station’s ridge.

Not far away, a stone pavilion bearing the sign ”Brussels Telegraph Station” was nestled in a corner of the platform. Through its blinds, one could see two uniformed telegraph operators each operating a keypad; one end of the telegraph line stretched toward Mechelen in the north, while the other entered a thick wire through the wall, connecting to the hub station behind the City Hall.

The casing of the telegraph machine still faintly showed the factory number Arthur was familiar with, which was the third batch of equipment delivered by the England Electromagnetic Telegraph Company to the Belgian Government in April this year.

Arthur smiled faintly, and slipped off his white gloves from his fingertips; his gaze traversed the crowd and stacked luggage to catch a glimpse of a gray-blue figure at the far end of the platform.

It was a man who appeared slightly older than him, dressed in a manner not exactly luxurious but marked by bureaucratic tidiness and precision, with a slender figure and refined features.

He was taking off his hat, looking around, and occasionally pulling out his pocket watch to check the time, appearing to be waiting for someone.

Their eyes met halfway; the man nodded slightly, then strode toward Arthur.

”Sir Arthur Hastings?” The voice was warm, with nearly a British tone, but carried a hint of government official’s caution and patience between the lines.

Arthur nodded, shaking his hand: ”Your Excellency is?”

”Jules Van Prat, liaison officer of the Belgian Royal Secretariat.” He replied with a smile: ”I am commanded to welcome Your Excellency into the city.”

With that, Van Prat added as if worried Arthur might misunderstand: ”Typically, if you were visiting in an official capacity, the Foreign Office’s protocol department would be involved. However, as you are traveling in a private capacity this time, His Majesty the King has entrusted your itinerary arrangement to our Royal Secretariat.”

Upon hearing this, Arthur slightly raised his brows, his smile not lingering long on his face as he deftly tucked his gloves into his coat’s inner pocket: ”I understand. Please convey my gratitude to His Majesty Leopold for the warm reception.”

”The carriage is ready; if it pleases Your Excellency, you can spend the night at the Bellevue Hotel. It’s not far from the Royal Palace, yet discreet enough for you to have a good rest on your first night after arrival. His Majesty will meet you at Laken Palace later; the meeting time hasn’t been officially determined but surely won’t be too late.”

As Van Prat’s words just fell, he slightly tilted his body, signaling with a glance to a few upright attendants behind him.

The youngest attendant immediately hastened forward, picked up the suitcase stained with travel dust at Arthur’s feet, holding it steadily in his hand.

Another attendant then spoke slightly apologetically: ”If Your Excellency has any additional luggage, we can transport it to the hotel; the hotel staff already made a preliminary reception once, and the remaining items will be sent to your room before dinner. Also, your accompanying personnel have all been arranged to stay at the Bellevue Hotel.”

The Bellevue Hotel is also a regular choice for the Belgian Government to host important foreign guests. This hotel, built in the mid-18th century, was part of a building complex erected after the Kodenburg Palace burned down in 1731. Initially, it was long used as a royal guest house, and in the early 19th century, it was remodeled into an upscale hotel.

Among the dignitaries it has hosted, Napoleon once dined there, and the Duke of Wellington met with members of the staff there a few days before the Battle of Waterloo. Former King of Westphalia Jerome Bonaparte and former Queen of Spain Julie Bonaparte also temporarily stayed there.

Due to its longstanding reputation and proximity to Brussels Royal Square and Leopold’s residence at Laken Palace, it was thoroughly renovated after Belgium gained independence, becoming a designated hotel for foreign envoys, the King’s private guests, and high-ranking officers.

Even the coronation ceremony of Leopold I on July 21, 1831, was held here.

For such accommodations, Arthur indeed had no reason to be dissatisfied.

He nodded slightly, pointing to the suitcase held by the attendant: ”That’s the only luggage, I didn’t bring anything else, so it’s no trouble for you.”

The attendant paused, apparently confused, as he lowered his gaze to the suitcase, the leather corners worn into a shallow patina and the lock had several scratches from long usage.

He hesitated, repeating, ”Your Excellency’s spare clothing, document case, toiletries, they... don’t need transporting?”

”I’m not relocating,” Arthur replied smoothly, seeming accustomed to this question after having been asked it several times before: ”Just this one suitcase. As for the attendants, they’re still in France. They should reach Brussels tomorrow but might not stay at the Bellevue Hotel, as they may be traveling to various telegraph stations across Belgium for some technical guidance.”