Shadow of great britain

If you want to manipulate the chess game, you must first bend over the chessboard. The real winner is not to make a brilliant move, but to make the opponent voluntarily choose the path to defeat in the intricate puzzle. The essence of power is not how to obtain it, but how to make others unaware of its existence. When everyone thinks they have the right to choose freely, that is the day you control everything.

——Arthur Hastings

Bismarck's eyelids were heavy as if they were pressed by the Alps. His consciousness was like a fish pulled back to the shore, struggling to resurface.

His head was pierced with needles, his throat was dry as if he had experienced a long-lasting battle, but he heard the rumble of wheels rolling over gravel.

He tried to open his eyes. After a moment of blurry vision, it gradually became clear. What came into view was the slightly shaking interior of the carriage. The sunlight shone through the gap in the curtains, diagonally pouring in, making him dazzled.

The carriage was shaking, the scenery outside the window was blurry in the morning mist, and the carriage was running briskly.

He tried to sit up, put his fingers on his forehead, and felt a dull pain.

Last night's revelry seemed as vague as a dream. He tried to recall what happened last night, but only a few fragments emerged in his mind: the sound of wine glasses clinking, noisy laughter, and a few unclear words of argument. Arthur's face with a sly smile, Dumas's hearty laughter, Heine's sharp sarcasm, and the excited expressions on Motley and other students' faces. One glass of wine after another, whispering between glasses, until finally Bismarck fell into the quagmire of alcohol in the hustle and bustle.

Bismarck muttered, trying to recall how last night ended, but everything seemed to be wrapped up in alcohol and fell into a deep quagmire.

"Damn it." He cursed in a low voice, sat up with difficulty, and held the window, his head was still a little dizzy.

The scenery outside the window flows slowly, with a stream flowing slowly in the distance and the golden countryside scenery of autumn harvest.

Bismarck frowned, and after a long while, he realized that he was not in Göttingen.

"Where are we going?" He murmured in a low voice, mixed with the drunkenness that had not completely subsided.

Just as he was sorting out his thoughts, Arthur Hastings' voice came from one side of the carriage. The tone that seemed gentlemanly but a little sarcastic was familiar to Bismarck.

"It seems that our 'iron-blooded man' has finally woken up." Arthur's face leaned over from the other side, with a playful smile on the corner of his mouth, "Last night was a rare spectacle. You were carried out by us lying directly on the table."

Bismarck raised his eyelids and glanced at Arthur with a tired look: "Where are you going to drag me to when you put me on this carriage?"

His voice was hoarse and low, and it was obvious that he had not fully recovered from the hangover.

Dumas, who was holding a pen and paper and thinking about the plot of his novel, saw Bismarck wake up and couldn't help laughing and said, "It seems that you have had enough of being the protagonist. Everyone was watching your one-man show last night, so today it's our turn to perform on stage, and you have to sit in the audience."

"Perform?" Bismarck asked with one hand on his head that was shaking uncontrollably from side to side, "What did I do last night?"

The old senior Heine who was sitting next to him coughed and said, "You did a lot of things. Of course, the most noteworthy thing is that you made a lot of jokes."

"What joke?" Bismarck obviously didn't realize the seriousness of the problem. He even wanted to find out the joke.

Heine counted on his fingers and said, "At that time, your friend Mr. Motley asked me what it felt like to study law at the University of Göttingen. I told him that it felt like being locked up in the cowshed of the "Collection of Doctrines". But you disagreed with my point of view. You insisted that studying law in Göttingen was not being locked up in a cowshed, but being locked up in a pigsty. I asked you the reason, and you told me that this was based on your analysis of the early career of the current dean of the University of Göttingen."

"Huh?" The fresh morning breeze came in through the car window and blew on Bismarck's head, not only removing the alcohol from his body, but also making him sober immediately: "Did I... did I say that?"

Arthur looked at Bismarck, who was feeling guilty, and waved his white gloves indifferently: "Don't worry, Otto, in fact, I think you are right. There is actually no difference between being a pig herder and being a dean. Oh, no, maybe there is still some difference."

Bismarck Bismarck asked curiously, "What's the difference?"

Arthur replied casually, "As a swineherd, you need to take care of them every day, make sure they are well fed and well slept, and finally sell them for a good price. As a school supervisor, you only need to stand on the stage and tell everyone loudly that you can make all the pigs live a better life, and then let others take care of them hard, and you can sit back and enjoy the fruits of their labor."

Heine almost laughed out loud when he heard this: "Isn't it just letting others be swineherds and being the owner of the pigs?"

Disraeli, who had been silent all the time, couldn't help but cover his mouth and laugh, "It seems that there is not much difference between swineherds and parliamentarians."

Unexpectedly, Arthur was shocked when he heard this and said, "Benjamin, don't say that, at least swineherds never need to raise their dirty hands in parliament."

Arthur's words immediately caused laughter in the room, and Bismarck shrugged helplessly: "I said I'm not suitable to be a parliamentarian, I'd better be my diplomat."

"Oh, diplomat..." Arthur raised his eyebrows: "Otto, although I don't want to dampen your enthusiasm, the conditions for becoming a good diplomat are very demanding."

Bismarck said nonchalantly: "I have been studying various foreign languages ​​very hard."

"That's not what I'm referring to." Arthur pointed to the back of the car: "In the car behind is sitting the best diplomat of the British Foreign Office, Mr. August Schneider. You know that Mr. Schneider measures a diplomacy What are the criteria for whether personnel are competent?”

"What is it?"

"Mr. Schneider believes that a good diplomat must be able to predict what will happen tomorrow, next month, next year and in the future."

Bismarck couldn't help but complain after hearing this: "It seems that you should hire a group of magicians to do diplomatic work. However, even the most senior magicians are sometimes inaccurate in their predictions."

"The prediction is inaccurate? That's a common thing, it's not important."

"Really? So what's important?"

"The important thing is that you can give another reason why the prediction is inaccurate, and have an explanation to your superiors and the people."

"Hahaha!"

Most of the people present took Arthur's remarks as another manifestation of his joking nature.

But Bismarck was the only one who couldn't laugh no matter what, because as one of the few people who knew the real reason for the failure of the Young Italian Uprising, he knew that Arthur's words were serious.

Inciting young Italy, deceiving the British Foreign Office, concealing the German Confederation, and at the same time toying with the French government and Austrian intelligence agencies.

Bismarck thought that he was already a very daring person, but compared with the things done by the respected Superintendent Hastings, it pales into insignificance.

As for why Arthur had to change the topic to such suggestive words?

Bismarck knew with his butt that the Superintendent was warning him not to talk too much.

Arthur looked at Bismarck who was sweating coldly. He straightened the brim of his hat with his pipe in his mouth and said, "Otto, why don't you smile? Do you not like it?"

Bismarck showed a cooperative expression that seemed to be smiling but not crying, "Of course not. I just feel that I have learned a lot of new experiences from you."

The carriage finally stopped slowly after a jolt. The driver tightened the reins, the horse snorted, and stopped in front of a roadside country inn.

The exterior wall of the hotel was painted with light yellow paint, and a shaky wooden sign hung in front of the door, swaying gently in the breeze.

When the car door opened, Alexandre Dumas was the first to jump out, stretch, and head into the hotel with a smile on his face: "It's lunch time!"

He loudly called to his companions in the following carriages to come out and take a breather. Motley, other students, Garibaldi and the companions of Young Italy got out of the car one after another, and walked towards the hotel in groups of twos and threes, talking and laughing.

However, Heine was not in a hurry to get out of the car. He just lazily leaned against the window, as if he was still immersed in a certain mood.

Arthur patted Heine on the shoulder: "What's wrong? Heinrich?"

Heine shook his head slightly: "It's just a bit emotional."

Arthur didn't understand it at first, he just thought it was the rich emotion that poets usually have.

He was about to get off the bus with Bismarck when he suddenly noticed a female shopkeeper wearing a headscarf and a blue apron walking out of the hotel.

The female shopkeeper enthusiastically invited the customers to enter the shop to rest. But when she looked down the car window and saw Heine's face, the female shopkeeper with some silver hair on her temples suddenly showed a happy smile. She was quite reproachful. Complained: "Heinrich, I love you so much, but how long has it been since you came to see me?"

"Sorry, Busenia." Heine took off his hat and shook it at the female shopkeeper: "I didn't mean it. But you must first understand that I won't come back not because I don't love you anymore, but because I never came back. Graduated from Göttingen. Secondly, I am a poet, and I am the kind of poet who is hated by the German Confederation government. Even if I want to come back, Metternich will try his best to separate me from your hotel. "

The female shopkeeper greeted Heine from the carriage enthusiastically: "You guys are always like this, but I understand that talented young people like to go against big shots. But if you are willing to say a few nice words, I think it doesn't matter Metternich in Austria or Stein in Prussia, they will forgive you. You can get a good position from them, and maybe become a minister."

"Perhaps yes." Heine chuckled: "But if I really did that, would I still be as popular as I am now? Busenia, I know you are thinking about me wholeheartedly, but now, You should help me and my friends solve the problem of hunger first."

The female shopkeeper asked with a smile: "Still the same? Hot buttered bread, celery soup, and a vegetable salad?"

"Busenia, you always understand me so well. I trust your craftsmanship. I can serve anything, as long as you don't serve the boring campus food at the University of Göttingen. I don't want to eat it again in my life." Those dried fish without salt and old cabbage with toothache are useless.”

Arthur watched Heine and the female shopkeeper enter the hotel happily, and then he asked Bismarck beside him: "Is the food in the school cafeteria really that bad?"

Bismarck just shrugged when he heard this: "No, although dried fish and cabbage gangsters are indeed delicious, I don't think it is the worst. The worst lunch should be the publicly funded meal eaten by poor theology students. You know the soup in the publicly funded meal Does it taste like something?"

"Like what?"

"You can imagine the feeling of taking a swig from a spittoon that was left overnight. The dense and sticky texture, the indescribable strange smell, and... vomit, sorry, I drank too much last night, and now I feel a little nauseous when I mention this. "

Arthur patted Bismarck on the back to help him calm down, and joked: "If it weren't for today's trip, I really wouldn't know these stories. I thought Heinrich was not good at dealing with women, but no To think that his relationship with the female shop owner is so good."

Bismarck spit out two mouthfuls of overnight food, took out a handkerchief and wiped his mouth: "Busenia has a good relationship with any student. If the students in Göttingen travel, more than half of them will take this road to rest, and Busenia In addition to entertaining nearby villagers, the biggest income of her hotel comes from the University of Göttingen. Of course, I do not rule out that she does have a preference for Mr. Heine, because from the perspective of appearance, he is a normal person. He's a handsome guy and he's a poet, so it's normal for everyone to like him. I heard that there are even several princesses in the small German country who are his admirers."

When it comes to learning, Bismarck may not be considered a good student.

But when it comes to his dedication to eating, drinking and having fun, Bismarck can definitely be regarded as a competent playboy.

Of course, for people who do intelligence work, studying food, drinking and having fun is obviously much more popular than being able to study.

Bismarck revealed Heine's background in just a few words, which is enough to show this kid's skill.

Bismarck finally regained his composure, and then he remembered to ask about the reason for today's inexplicable trip: "Mr. Dumas said before that we are going to the theater today?"

Arthur stood by the car, adjusted his coat, then glanced around casually, and his eyes stopped on Bismarck.

He smiled slightly, raised the cigar in his hand, and motioned for Bismarck to follow: "Otto, I think we need a cigarette to relieve the fatigue of this journey."

"You know what, Otto." Arthur took out a cigar and lit it skillfully. After taking a deep breath, he slowly exhaled the smoke. Watching the smoke gradually dissipate in the air, he squinted and relaxed. Coming down, his voice sounded particularly clear in the fresh air of the countryside: "Sometimes, it is more important to stop and rest than to continue moving forward. Especially when you are not sure where the road ahead will lead you."

Bismarck frowned, took a cigar from Arthur, lit it and leaned against the hotel wall, but never moved his eyes away from Arthur's face, "Are you giving me a hint? Or are you? Are you going to say those ambiguous words again?”

His voice had the usual low tone and impatience, as if he was somewhat accustomed to Arthur's beating around the bush.

Arthur chuckled lightly, and the sparks of the cigar flickered: "Hint? No, Otto, I never make unnecessary hints. I was just thinking that since you and I have known each other, you seem to be rarely in front of me. Relaxation is like worrying about something all the time. Sometimes, I find that when a person is tense, he often misses some interesting scenery.”

Bismarck took a deep breath from his cigarette, as if he was using the smoke to hide his expression, "Interesting scenery? If you are referring to those seemingly harmless carnivals and so-called 'performances' last night, then I don't think they are the same as today's." What a difference a late journey makes.”

"There really is no difference." Arthur shook his head with a smile: "If you hadn't been crying and shouting to join Young Italy last night, and volunteered to escort Garibaldi and others out of the country, I wouldn't have planned on this journey. I'll take you with me."

"Cough cough cough!" Bismarck choked on his cigar and his nose was filled with smoke: "What did you say! I joined Young Italy?"

Arthur nodded slightly and pointed to Bismarck's chest: "Of course, didn't you find something extra on yourself after you woke up?"

Bismarck lowered his head and glanced at his chest. On his chest was a red, white and green tricolor flag badge, which was the symbol of promoting Italian independence.

After saying this, Arthur shook his head with some disappointment: "Otto, to be honest, before this, I never thought that you could actually be a liberal. It seems that that sentence is correct. After drinking, You can see the sincerity.”