shadow of britain

Chapter 613: Cunning Cultural Counselor

Mayor Bakalkin was busy in his study dealing with a pile of trivial documents. The fire was burning brightly, dispelling the winter chill of Druisk.

The dull air in the study was filled with the smell of stale paper and a faint scent of ink.

He was writing on a report when he was suddenly interrupted by a rapid knock on the door.

"What's the matter?" The mayor raised his head, his tone mixed with a hint of impatience. He hated being disturbed the most, especially when he spent a lot of energy covering up local financial loopholes and misappropriation of resources.

In the past few days, he took Colonel Hastingoff to visit the streets and alleys of Druisk, the town hall, the city elementary school, the church and the court, and even the garrison barracks.

Although there were many small incidents along the way, such as someone secretly following them outside the city hall for a while, seemingly waiting for an opportunity to complain. When inspecting the municipal primary school, the teacher accidentally revealed some inappropriate words when explaining the course, which made the colonel frown slightly, as if he had doubts about the overly idealistic teaching method.

What bothered Mayor Bakalkyn the most was that when they just came out of the church that day, Hastingoff calmly questioned a farmer who had complained to the city hall. However, the farmer seemed extremely nervous, at a loss, and even spoke incoherently, so he didn't make any sense until the end.

Fortunately, Colonel Hastingoff kept his promise and did not make things too difficult for the local officials of Druisk over these minor matters.

But in return, this lazy guy also required the local heads of various departments to write their own inspection reports so that he could take them back to St. Petersburg for completion.

Outside, the servant pushed the door open cautiously, his face full of anxiety: "Master! It's bad! The military police... a military police captain brought people and said they want to see you."

"Captain of the Military Police?"

Bakaldin's pen stopped in mid-air, and the ink dripped onto the paper, leaving a small black spot.

Military police, this word was even more piercing to him than the icy wind in winter. He subconsciously touched his forehead, as if to confirm whether cold sweat had already seeped out.

"Are you talking about a new military policeman? Not Colonel Hastings?" The mayor's voice was a little dry.

"Yes, sir. They have arrived at the door of the mansion and look... very formal." The servant's tone revealed uneasiness, and his eyes were a little vague, as if he didn't dare to look directly at the mayor.

"Are they Colonel Hastingoff's men?"

"I didn't ask, but even if I did, they definitely wouldn't tell me." The servant swallowed his saliva and said, "You know, they are military police officers, and each of them is as cold as a knife."

Bakalkin quickly stood up, pulled his slightly loose collar with his hand, and tried to calm his breathing.

He was aware that some of his "little tricks" had not been completely covered up, especially those concerning taxes and local grain allocation.

If the military police had any evidence...

He didn't dare to think about it any more.

"Let him in." Bakalkin finally said, trying to appear calm, but the slightly trembling ending of his voice revealed his inner thoughts.

The servant nodded and left, and Bakalkin paced in the study. His mind quickly considered the possible reasons - was his recent secret deal with a landowner exposed? Or was there a loophole in the account of last month's grain quota?

Whatever the reason, he had to prepare an explanation in the shortest possible time.

But in a flash, Bakalkin thought of Colonel Hestingov who lived in the next room.

What's there to be afraid of?

Just a military police captain!
As long as Colonel Hastingoff stood on his side, how could a captain really turn the tables?

Bakalkin had just given himself a reassurance, but in a moment he began to back out again.

but……

No one can say for sure about the military police.

When he was doing business in the provincial capital before, he heard others talk about the story of infighting among the gendarmerie.

Although the gendarmes have different ranks, most of them have a single line of contact with their superiors, and most gendarme officers have a single line of contact with the Third Bureau headquarters in St. Petersburg, so occasionally low-level gendarmes impeach high-level gendarmes.

What if this new military police captain is not as diplomatic as Colonel Hastingoff, but is a complete rookie?

The more Bakalkin pondered, the more anxious he became. He quickly rang the bell on the desk, called the servant, and ordered: "Peter, go and ask Colonel Hastingoff if he is asleep. If not, ask him to get up and say... just say I want to invite him for a cup of tea."

"I understand, sir."

The servant hurriedly closed the door and left, and Bakalkin's mumbling could be heard again in the study.

"If this military police captain is really a person with a hot temper, will he reveal my secret on the spot?"

Bakalkyn cursed himself for his stupidity.

Although Colonel Hastingoff seemed elegant, he was not a reliable person. He seemed to be indifferent to local affairs, as if he was willing to leave everything to them, but the more such people were, the more they preferred to protect themselves.

If the matter is not exposed, of course it will be good for everyone, but if something goes wrong, he will definitely be the first to jump off the ship.

Thinking of this, Bakalkin's heart almost jumped out of his chest.

He walked to the desk again, as if he had ignored the report that had been soaked with ink. When he grabbed another document, he found that his hands were shaking slightly, and the pages seemed to tremble between his fingertips.

The servant came back soon. His eyes nervously swept over Bakalkin, and there was an unknown hesitation and repression in his tone: "Colonel Hastingov was sleeping soundly. I knocked on the door gently just now, but he didn't respond."

"What!" He said hastily, with a somewhat urgent tone: "You ignorant fool! Why don't you wake him up? Tell the colonel that I have an urgent matter here and need his help!"

Outside the door, Captain Hutte's footsteps could be heard.

His steady and powerful steps made Bakalkin's heart beat faster, as if every step was stepping on his nerves.

When the door was pushed open, Bakalkyn immediately put on an enthusiastic yet dignified expression.

"Captain Huett, welcome." He bowed slightly, his tone respectful but measured. "What are you doing here? If you need anything, I will do my best to cooperate."

Huette nodded coldly, his eyes sweeping across every corner of the room, as if examining whether this space hides some secrets. He did not rush to answer, but paused for a moment and said in a very deterrent tone: "Mr. Mayor, we are just a routine visit. However, I think you should understand that the military police never do meaningless things."

A stiff smile appeared on Bakalkin's face. He suppressed his inner fear and greeted politely: "Please sit down, please sit down, Captain. Do you need hot tea or anything else?" "Thank you, but no thanks." Huett still stood, his voice steady but unquestionable, "I think our conversation doesn't need to be dragged out too long. We need to know some things, and I hope you can answer truthfully."

Bakalkin was sweating profusely. He nodded reluctantly and forced himself to smile, which he thought was an appropriate smile.

He knew in his heart that this would not be just a "routine matter" and he had to be fully alert to deal with the stern military police in front of him.

Bakalkyn suppressed his panic and motioned Huett to sit down with a smile: "Captain, what can I do for you? If you need anything, just tell me and I will do my best."

Huette was in no hurry to answer. Instead, he glanced around the study, his eyes falling on the snowflakes outside the window. Then, he casually glanced at Bakardin's desk. The pile of documents on it did not seem to arouse much of his interest.

He paused for a moment, then spoke slowly and tentatively: "I'm here to see Colonel Hastingoff. I heard that he has been feeling unwell recently?"

As soon as Bakalkin heard that the other party did not come here specifically to investigate Druisk, his tense nerves immediately relaxed, and even his smile, which had been distorted by nervousness, became much more natural.

"Ah! You're looking for the colonel! The colonel has indeed caught a cold and has been recuperating here for the past few days. If you're not in a hurry, you can see him tomorrow. The colonel is probably asleep by now. You know, patients are weak, so they go to bed early."

When Huet heard this, even his tone became much stiffer.

Because he was not concerned about the colonel's health, but rather suspected that the colonel, whom he had never met, might have encountered some kind of improper interference.

Bakaldin's words obviously deepened his concerns in this regard.

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Huette smiled slightly, but there was no warmth in his smile: "I have heard of Colonel Hastingoff's professionalism, and you really shouldn't ignore this. Since the colonel is unwell, can you tell me what difficulties he encountered? After all, as military police, we have the responsibility to ensure the health of every officer and avoid any hidden dangers."

If the local officials really had any ill intentions towards the gendarmerie colonel, Huette's words would be enough to scare them off.

But when these words fell into the ears of Bakalkin, who had a pleasant cooperation with Hastingov, they deepened his awe of the promising colonel.

He was worthy of being the rising star of St. Petersburg, a favorite of the Emperor and Count Benckendorff. Any passing gendarmes in the local area would shamelessly pay themselves a visit when they heard the colonel's name.

Are you still concerned about the colonel's health?
No matter how unhealthy he is, he is still healthier than those people who have been sentenced to political exile by you.

The mayor was about to say something official when the door of the study was suddenly pushed open by a servant.

The butler bowed and invited the sleepy Arthur into the study. However, before he entered the door, the mayor came to him in a fuss: "Oh! Colonel, why are you here?"

At this point, he did not forget to glare at the servant: "You bastard, the colonel was sleeping soundly, why did you wake him up? In my opinion, you want to be whipped!"

The servant was scolded without knowing the truth. Just as he was about to explain himself, he was kicked out by Bakaldin without any explanation.

Bakalkyn respectfully invited Arthur to sit on the sofa by the fire, and even took out his coat and put it on him. Finally, he said to Captain Huett in a reproachful tone: "Look! I told you that the colonel was ill, but you didn't believe me."

Hugh's eyes had not left Arthur since he entered the room.

Even when Bakalt's jokes and actions seemed a little over the top, Huette remained calm as always.

His gaze was like a sharp knife, sharp and could not be ignored, but when it fell on Arthur, it was particularly meticulous.

Arthur took the cup of tea handed over by Bakalkyn, rinsed his mouth, raised his eyelids and looked at the stranger in front of him: "Mr. Mayor, who is this?"

Without waiting for Bakalkin to introduce himself, Huett raised his hand and saluted, "Hello, Colonel. I am Richard Huett, Captain of the Second District Cavalry of the Imperial Military Police. I was passing by here while escorting a prisoner, and I heard that you were on duty here, so I came to pay you a visit."

When Arthur heard this identity, his heart skipped a beat.

"Captain Richard Huett..." Arthur's voice was steady and he chatted calmly, "I've heard of your name. You are quite famous in the Military Police Regiment."

If Hugh was just an ordinary captain, he might have questioned Arthur's words, but who made him the only British military policeman in the military police regiment?

This identity did earn him a certain degree of fame, so it was not particularly surprising even if the colonel knew his name.

"You probably heard it from other people in the General Administration?" Huett smiled. "I can't say I have any reputation. At most, my British identity makes me stand out in the group."

British?
When the old man heard this keyword, he immediately remembered what Shubinsky had talked about with him before.

He nodded slightly, as if he had heard of it before. "Shubinsky told me about you. The director even wrote a letter to the British ambassador to seek his opinion on your joining the gendarmerie."

"You know Colonel Shubinsky?" Huette was slightly surprised. "Could it be that you also worked in the Second District?"

Arthur did not answer directly, but nodded politely to Bakalkyn first: "Mr. Mayor, the captain and I have something private to discuss."

Bakalkyn was eager to leave this damn place as soon as possible. No one liked to stand next to the gendarmes, not even the governor, let alone him, a small mayor. "Of course, of course, you two can chat slowly. I'll have someone prepare some refreshments for you."

Arthur watched the mayor close the door, then picked up the teapot and poured a cup of black tea for Huett: "Shubinsky and I are old acquaintances. Are you his subordinate?"

“I can’t say I was his subordinate, but I was certainly taken care of by him.”

Hugh seemed very restrained in front of Arthur: "I first worked in the British Moscow Company as a company employee. The main business of the Moscow Company was to import woolen cloth and firearms to Russia, and then transport Russian honey, fish oil, fur, and timber back to Britain. Once, I was responsible for connecting with the gendarmerie for uniform procurement, so I got to know several gendarmerie officers in Moscow, including General Volkov, the commander of the Moscow gendarmerie, and Colonel Shubinsky, the supervisor of Moscow. Later, the gendarmerie wanted to borrow the company's accounts in order to investigate a rebellion case. I facilitated them and helped to list the data they wanted, so they half-jokingly said that I had a talent for being a gendarmerie and asked me if I wanted to join the gendarmerie. They instigated me to apply to the gendarmerie. At first, I just wanted to give it a try, but I didn't expect that I was actually accepted."

Although Arthur had heard about this incident beforehand, he was still quite surprised to hear the person involved tell the story: "I know there are many German officers in the regiment, but most of them are second-generation or even third-generation immigrants. Even the first-generation have already acquired Russian citizenship. You are the only one who retains a foreign nationality and serves in the gendarmerie. Have you never thought about changing your nationality to Russian?"

This was obviously not the first time Huett had been asked this question, but he was clearly quite resistant to it.

Why not change your nationality to Russian?
This was naturally due to the fact that as a British gendarme, he could see the gendarme as a special job and the Tsar as his boss.

Once he changed his nationality to Russian, he would have to regard his work as his life and the Tsar as his master, just like other gendarmes.

He liked the status and wealth that being a gendarmerie officer would bring him, but he did not want to risk exile to Siberia.

Huete replied evasively, "If the time is right, I will definitely change my nationality, but I am only a captain now. According to the "Law Collection" promulgated last year, any official of humble origin who serves in the military, administration, or court service and reaches the eighth rank will obtain the hereditary title of nobility together with his legal children born while in office. In other words, I have to become a major before considering changing my nationality. If I change my nationality now, I can only get the status of a lifelong noble, which is not cost-effective."

Of course, Huett's words could not fool Arthur, but after confirming that the other party was still a British citizen, the cultural counselor in Russia, who had not yet taken office, found a topic that Huett could not avoid: "But if this is the case, isn't it too troublesome?"

"trouble?"

"Yes!" Arthur stood up and said, "You are a British citizen, so don't you have to go to the British Embassy to renew your passport every year? What should you do if they don't renew your visa?"

(End of this chapter)