shadow of britain

Chapter 604: Sixth-rank Army Councillor Hastingoff

The button badge lingered in the old squire's mind like an indelible nightmare.

What on earth could make this old man, who had already lived most of his life, feel so scared?

If you only look at it from the surface, it is just a most ordinary and unremarkable decorative button badge. The pattern on it is not only inferior to those popular decorations sold in Paris fashion stores, but it also fails to highlight the elegant taste and dignity of the user.

The emblem was just a dull white handkerchief.

However, for the old country gentleman who often read the Moscow News, this is not an ordinary handkerchief button badge, because it represents an organization, an organization that is enough to bring darkness to the officialdom of Druisk - the Third Bureau of the Imperial Office of His Majesty the Tsar!

In 1826, Tsar Nicholas I formally accepted Count Benckendorff's suggestion to reorganize the Special Office of the Ministry of Internal Affairs into the Third Bureau of the Imperial Office, and the Russian Empire began to set up a standing political police. The function of the Third Bureau in official documents was to provide protection for widows and orphans.

But in fact, the Russians are well aware of the true function of the Third Bureau.

Their official emblem is a handkerchief, which was presented to Count Benkendorfer when Nicholas I appointed him as the first director of the Third Bureau. When His Majesty the Tsar presented the handkerchief, he also gave Benkendorfer a message: This is my order to you. The more tears you shed, the more I can achieve my goal.

Although this most mysterious agency in the Imperial Office is relatively small, with only more than 40 full-time staff members, it is obvious that a small number of staff does not mean low efficiency. The Third Bureau can successfully complete the tasks assigned to them by the Tsar under any circumstances.

Of course, sometimes we can't attribute all the credit to the more than 40 people sitting in offices at the St. Petersburg headquarters, because most of the tasks of the Third Bureau are assigned to their eyes and ears and subordinates - the group of gendarmes wearing blue uniforms and white gloves.

The old squire stared at the button badge and felt cold from head to toe.

In Russia, wherever this handkerchief badge appears, nothing good ever happens. It only brings exile, imprisonment, and even...even the death penalty!
Arthur had no idea what had suddenly gone wrong with the old man, and as for the handkerchief badge in the third game, he had no idea what it was.

In his opinion, the button with the handkerchief pattern was just a small gift given to him by Shubinsky when he was drunk. If he had not come to Russia, he would not even bother to pin the button badge on his sleeve.

If the two met in the future and Shubinsky mentioned the little gift he gave to Arthur, Arthur couldn't say that it had long been thrown into the glove box and gathered dust, right?
Arthur saw the old man with his mouth half open and his eyes wide open, but he didn't say hello to him. Finally, he couldn't stand the loneliness and approached him and asked kindly, "Old man, what's wrong with you?"

Of course, in order to highlight his unique identity and arouse the other party's interest, he deliberately chose to greet in German.

However, what Arthur did not expect was that after hearing German, the old man even had trouble standing.

The old man held his hat, bowed and nodded, with a bright smile on his face as if he had advanced the credit limit for next month: "Oh, dear sir, hello! You look unfamiliar, handsome, majestic, tall, and you can tell at a glance that you are not something that can be raised in a small place like ours. You... you must be from some faraway place, right? This is really... really, welcome, welcome!"

Having said that, the old man stood up and walked to Arthur attentively. At this time, he no longer cared about the civil servant uniform that he had treasured all his life. The old man simply raised his sleeves and began to wipe the table in front of Arthur with great effort.

"The conditions in this inn are really shabby! It's really rude to let a respectable person like you stay in such a place. I don't have any special merits. If I have to say anything, it's that I'm a zealous person and a devout believer in God. I can't bear to see others suffer. It's so cold, staying in such a cold inn, is this a sin that people can endure? Especially seeing a good guy like you suffer, I feel even more guilty. Let's put it this way, whatever arrangements you want, I can do it right away!"

The old squire said this, but his eyes could not help but glance at the handkerchief badge on Arthur's sleeve several times, as if he was confirming whether he had seen it wrong due to his old eyesight.

Although Arthur had no idea what the old man was up to, the old spy knew how to read the atmosphere and had also enjoyed being complimented by others.

However, the last guy who fawned over him so respectfully was Ledley King, a progressive young man from Scotland Yard.

Arthur followed the old squire's wandering eyes and found the reason why this old man, who even looked down on the mayor and the judge, was afraid - the badge given to him by Shubinsky.

what……

Arthur gradually came to his senses and unknowingly upgraded his fake identity by eight levels.

What a shitty little imperial civil servant, 14th-rank civil servant Artur Agaresovich Hestingov!

The one standing here now is: Artur Agaresovich Hestingov, the sixth-rank military attaché of the Russian Empire (Army Counselor), the gendarmerie staff officer of the First District of the Gendarmerie Regiment, and the Colonel of the Guards Infantry!
No, the title of Colonel of the Guards Infantry was not noble enough.

After all, Russian and British nobles had the same bad temper when it came to joining the army. The noblest nobles would usually only join the cavalry, and infantry officers were left to outsiders and peasants.

But if it was a colonel of the Guards Cavalry, then the target range would be too small, after all, there were only a few Guards Cavalry regiments in Russia.

If you ask in detail, it will be easy to be exposed.

Forget it, I might as well just humble myself and become a cavalry colonel.

The old squire certainly had no idea what this despicable stranger was thinking, let alone that he was automatically upgrading himself in his mind.

Master Zakharov, who was domineering just now, turned into a slug who dared not even straighten his back in front of Arthur in the blink of an eye.

Arthur stared at the old squire, with no smile on his serious face. The old squire was sweating profusely. Arthur waved his hand and said, "Sir, what are you standing there for? You are blocking my sunlight."

"Oh, oh, oh!" The old squire hurriedly sat down, as if he was afraid that he would be exiled to Siberia if he was a second slower: "You..."

"Me? I am only a young man from Petersburg."

Arthur pretended to stretch his wrist and turned his sleeve, revealing the white handkerchief badge in front of the old squire: "You are indeed a kind-hearted person. You know, you are the first person to greet me since I came to this damn place. I went to the city hall, the police station, the post office, and many other places. Do you know what I found?"

When the old squire heard Arthur praising him, he felt relieved. He smiled and asked, "What did you find?"

"I discovered..." Arthur imitated the tone of the old country gentleman when he entered the room: "This Druid is really cold enough to freeze people's hearts."

"This..." The old squire's heart suddenly rose to his throat: "How many days have you been in Druisk?"

……

In the Druisk City Hall, the mayor, who is usually invisible, is quite present today.

Although the snow has not slowed down at all today, the work in the city hall is still going on in full swing in such weather.

The mayor slammed the table and roared: "Where is Andrei Alexandrovich? He is not in the church, the tavern, or his home. Was he, the chief of police, stolen away by thieves or carried away by wolves?"

The inspector tried to persuade him, "Mr. Mayor, Andrei Alexandrovich is as tall as a small hill. When he walks, it shakes the earth like an earthquake. When he sits down, he can break a chair. A thief or a wolf cub would not be able to get rid of such a person."

The policeman who came to report reported: "Mr. Mayor, our director drank too much last night and fell into a roadside ditch on his way home. If the soldiers hadn't urinated on the roadside this morning and melted the snow, the director might not have been found under the snow."

The mayor's eyes widened: "Ah! Did he freeze to death?" The young policeman swallowed his saliva: "He almost froze to death. When he was sent to the Charity Hospital, his body was frozen stiff. If the doctor at the Charity Hospital who couldn't speak a word of Russian hadn't given him some boiling vodka and prescribed special medicine, the director would probably have been buried in the cemetery by now. However, although the director has recovered temporarily, he probably won't be able to get out of bed for a while."

The inspector slapped his thigh and cried out in pain: "Oh my! What should I do? At such a critical moment, the police chief..."

However, the mayor rolled his eyes and said calmly: "Andrei Alexandrovich is in the Charity Hospital? Then don't let him leave the hospital! Send someone to tell him to lie down on the bed in the hospital immediately. There is no patient in Druisk who is more prosperous than him. When the imperial envoy arrives, we will take him to inspect Andrei Alexandrovich's bed. If the imperial envoy asks, tell him that Andrei Alexandrovich was injured in the line of duty while chasing robbers."

The inspector's eyes lit up, and his distressed expression turned into a smile: "What a great idea! No wonder you're the mayor."

The mayor was very pleased with the compliment from the inspector. He nodded complacently and said, "As for his work, let Ivan Mihaylovich do it. He is the police chief. He relies on his father-in-law who is a retired civil servant of the eighth rank. He simply doesn't take us seriously. It's as if he is not the city police chief, but the provincial police chief!"

After saying this, the mayor changed the subject and said, "By the way, I feel something is not right about the imperial envoy's inspection. Could it be that someone has gone to Petersburg to complain about us? Alexey Portonovich, have you made enemies with anyone recently, or found that anyone has been disrespectful to you?"

"This..." The inspector thought about it and shook his head uncertainly: "It should be no."

"No?" The mayor snorted, "Don't think I don't know. Think about it again!"

The inspector racked his brains and recalled for a long time before hesitantly asking, "Could it be the incident with the widow Ivanovna from the east city?"

"Hmm?" The mayor raised his head suddenly. "What did you do to Ivanovna?"

Seeing his reaction, the inspector immediately realized that he had let the cat out of the bag. He quickly tried to make amends, saying, "It was nothing. It was just some daily quarrels."

Snapped!
The mayor slammed the table so hard that the inspector trembled three times in fear.

The mayor accused him harshly, "Do you think this is just your fault? Normally I told you not to go too far, but none of you listened to me and you all turned a deaf ear to me. Now that the imperial envoy has been brought here, you now know how serious it is!"

The inspector became angry after being reprimanded by the mayor.

After all, his real superior was not Mayor Bakaldin, but the provincial inspector of Vitebsk.

Normally, when everyone discussed things in a friendly manner, he could give Bakalkin some face, but if things got out of hand and they became enemies, he wouldn't have to indulge the mayor.

The inspector retorted, "I just slapped Ivanovna a few times because of my rude words. This is at most a problem with my management style. But you, when your servants go to the butcher's shop to buy meat, they always only pay half the price. When you go to the cloth shop to buy fine woolen cloth, you insist on paying the price of coarse cloth. That's not all. You bought two feet of cloth, but took away a whole piece of cloth. You have financial problems!"

The muscles on the mayor's face twitched a few times. He took a deep breath, suppressed his anger, and looked at the inspector coldly: "Are you going to use these words to make a fuss? Do you think I'm afraid of your threats? You are just a teacher who meddles in other people's business. How can you be so righteous in front of me?"

The inspector sneered disdainfully, and he retorted: "I am only stating the facts. Your servants bought meat and gave half of the money. That is not only an economic issue, but also a wanton infringement of the interests of the people! As for the cloth, you bought it with all the hard work and effort of others, but you took advantage of it. This is severely punished by the higher-ups! You, on the other hand, tried every means to do some "low-key business", and finally put the blame for the imperial inspection on me. What authority do you have that makes everyone respect you?"

The inspector's words immediately resonated with everyone in the room, and everyone turned their eyes to the mayor.

The mayor also knew that if he continued to allow the inspector to provoke him, his own reputation and position might be threatened.

So, he pretended to be angry and slapped the pile of bills, raised his voice and scolded sternly: "Do you think your words can make me feel guilty? Let me tell you, Alexey Portonovich, I admit that you are a little smart, but I warn you - don't forget when it was your turn to speak in Druisk? You are just a scholar who earns a living by teaching with the country's money. Don't think you can challenge my bottom line! If you take back your words now, I can still forgive you."

The others saw that the mayor was in a difficult situation, so they all stepped forward to give the two men a way out and smooth things over.

"Well, Mr. Inspector, Mr. Mayor, we are all working for His Majesty the Tsar. Why are you doing this?"

Unexpectedly, the inspector didn't buy it at all. He was provoked by the mayor's words and wanted to compete with him today.

The inspector's eyes flashed with fire: "You are right, I am a scholar, I don't have any background, and I don't have any power. But don't forget that the saying 'generals emerge from civil servants' is not groundless. If you are in trouble one day, who will support you behind the scenes?"

Seeing that the inspector was still contradicting him, the mayor got really angry for a moment. He said, "What you said is nothing but empty accusations. We are all honest officials. How can we let these small, insignificant things affect the overall situation? You are so eager to make the matter so serious, it is inevitable that you are a little too anxious. In my opinion, there is no need for us to argue. The imperial envoy will be here soon. Since you have doubts about me, I think we can be open and honest and let him investigate carefully to see if the truth is really as you said."

Boom boom boom!
As soon as the mayor finished speaking, there was a hurried knock on the door.

The mayor was furious and couldn't help cursing, "Who on earth is this son of a bitch who's going to hell?"

The knocking on the door stopped, replaced by the furious voice of the old squire: "Bakardin! You son of a bitch, how dare you scold me? How dare you scold me, the eighth-rank civil servant of the empire, Grigory Nikiforovich Zakharov? You damned mayor! Aren't you just a gangster wearing stinky leather boots? Don't look at you wearing that official hat and that tattered official uniform, you are obviously just a street thug, but you dare to pretend to be an official!"

The curse almost shook the door, and the iron ring on the door also made several harsh sounds. Mayor Bakalkin's face turned livid in an instant. He had not yet calmed down from his previous curse, but the sudden intrusion of this "master" completely disrupted his rhythm.

The old squire found that no one paid attention to him, and his emotions became more and more agitated. He continued to roar in an increasingly sharp voice: "You son of a bitch, do you really think that you can become an official by wearing a ragged shirt? Let me tell you, I drank tea and had banquets in the palace in the past, and sat at the table with those real nobles with flesh and blood! What's the point of your ragged clothes? You are pretending to be noble in front of me with a dozen copper coins! I think you are just like the thugs on the street corner, who eat people without spitting out bones! You still dare to shout at me? How dare you pretend to be a big shot in front of me? I didn't do a bad thing in the past, but you, how many dirty things have you done, how many people have you cheated? Do you really think that the gods can't see your dirty deals? Do you think you can continue to sit in this position with this kind of ghost money without falling down?"

The old squire's voice was as fierce as a storm, and every word in his anger was like a blade, smashing into Mayor Bakalkin's face.

The mayor's face turned pale and blue, and a hint of fear flashed in his eyes, but was soon replaced by anger.

He stood up suddenly in anger, his face flushed, and pointed at the door with a trembling finger.

"How dare you yell at me, you old fool! You are just a shameless retired civil servant, why do you act like a master in front of me! Who do you think you are? You are not more noble than me, you have no right to point fingers in front of me!"

However, the old squire's anger did not subside at all, but became even more intense, and his voice was piercingly sharp, like nails driving into Bakardin's heart.

"I'm telling you, Bakaldin, Master Hastingov didn't come to your shabby place to play. Justice is clear, and God's eyes are as sharp as lightning! The eyes of the imperial envoy are much sharper than you think! If he sees your true face, you can't even save your head. You, a beheaded bastard, will be handcuffed and locked in the shackles at any time, dragged to Kazan Square, and put in front of everyone, so that the emperor will have to personally order to chop off your stinking head!"

Mayor Bakalkyn turned pale, trembled all over, and asked incoherently: "What...what? Lord Hastingov..."

These words hit Bakalkin like a bolt from the blue. His mouth opened slightly, and he was obviously frightened.

At this moment, the mayor's heart seemed to be hollowed out, his thoughts were in disarray, and the swollen arrogance and anger in his heart disappeared instantly. Only the heavy fear surged like a tide.

He subconsciously took a step back, his eyes becoming somewhat evasive, even fearful.

But soon, he came to his senses again. The mayor hurriedly opened the door and respectfully invited the old squire in: "You...you just said Hastingoff...Sir? How is it possible, how is it possible...How could he..."

The mayor's voice was low, with a subtle flattery: "Grigory Nikiforovich, since you know so many things, it's a bit surprising. It seems that we need to sit down and have a good discussion. The Lord Hastingov you mentioned... Hehe... Don't be angry, I didn't know it was you who came just now..."

The old squire snorted and threw his bearskin hat on the table. "Angry? I'm not angry! What should I be angry about? I'm just an insignificant eighth-rank civil servant, and I'm retired. I can bear it! But Lord Hastingov is a sixth-rank army councilor of the Empire, a cavalry colonel, and a military police staff officer directly under the Third Bureau. You, the mayor of Druisk, kept him in a small hotel for five days and five nights in this freezing cold weather. Bakalkin, although you have no conscience, you are quite courageous!"

(End of this chapter)