The Shadow of Great Britain

Chapter 1273: Chapter 160: The German Gamble (Part 3)

“I think most of this is made up by you, Otto. You’re always like this, wanting to show off.”

Bismarck sneered dismissively: “I never lie about this kind of thing. It’s true, you can ask Trotta, he was right next to me at the time.”

Mottle chuckled and said, “I also don’t think Otto would lie about this. The things he did in Gottingen, which one of them seems real? After getting drunk, he threw a bottle into the street, and hit a passerby right on the mark. The principal summoned him for a talk, but he showed up in bizarre clothes, with a long cigarette in his mouth, leading his British dog to the principal’s office door. The startled principal was so scared by the sudden appearance of the hunting dog that he hid behind his desk, and Otto couldn’t help but burst out laughing. And just like that, the admonishment immediately escalated to a fine. Even funnier, Otto even tried to argue with the principal that he didn’t throw a bottle of liquor out the window, but an Ink Bottle, thinking it would get him out of trouble. In the end, the principal not only fined him, but also added three days of confinement.”

Bismarck, hearing Mottle airing his dirty laundry, felt neither ashamed nor humiliated, but rather proud and said, “If confinement could offset the fine, I’d rather let him confine me for a week. But that old guy was very cunning and insisted on the fine without giving in.”

At this point, Bismarck began to blame his companions present, “For this matter, the ones who should be most ashamed are definitely you guys. It’s true that the party was held at my house, but I wasn’t the only participant that day. I took all the blame for everyone, and what did I get in return? Not gratitude, but you laughing at me.”

“Alright, let’s not bring this up again. Let’s talk about that shooting duel event instead.”

Bismarck’s face turned red with anger: “That was sheer nonsense too! I went to mediate the fight, not as a participant in the shooting duel, but none of the Professors believed me. They insisted I was there to incite it and ended up shutting me in for ten days. Is this Germany’s best law school? Do you think we can learn anything here as law students?”

“Who told you to be so ‘well-known’?”

“Three semesters, twenty-eight duels, Otto, you are the record holder of this school.”

“Hahaha! Otto, the burden of crimes on you is just too much.”

Schublan stood up to defend Bismarck: “No, you can’t say it like that. In my view, it’s not a crime, but an honor. If not for Otto’s overwhelming glory, how could Jena University be afraid of his reputation?”

Everyone burst into laughter, and someone heckled, “Otto, now that we’re in Leipzig, shouldn’t we take the chance to teach those arrogant Leipzig University guys a lesson? Look, you’re here, Schublan is here too, we have two ‘Masters’, plus our ‘unit Commanders’, it should be enough to deal with those bastards.”

Upon hearing this suggestion, Bismarck’s first reaction was agreement, but before he could stand up, his boiling passion was extinguished by an invisible cold shower.

If it were in the past, he would have led his classmates to Leipzig University for a brawl, and back in Gottingen, it would have been nothing more than confinement.

At most, he would be expelled or forced to transfer.

But now?

If he pissed off Hastings School Director, he probably wouldn’t need to go back to Gottingen with him, but rather follow Garibaldi and them to sail to South America, which would be the best option.

Bismarck looked down at the Young Italy badge on his chest, shrugged helplessly, turned to the group and yelled: “Have mercy, gentlemen, I have turned over a new leaf. I am no longer that idle university student. Now, there is a greater responsibility on my shoulders. I am the Gestapo, and I’m the leader of the Gestapo too.”

Seeing Bismarck not taking the bait, the classmates were somewhat disheartened: “Otto, you’ve changed, become boring.”

“There’s still so much time before the performance, we have to find some fun, right? Are we just going to sit here drinking? If that’s the case, we’ll probably be wasted before it even starts. Otto, I still want to see the opera.”

“There will surely be many ladies visiting the theater today, and I don’t want them to think I’m a drunkard.”

“Don’t pretend to be a gentleman, William. You’re a drunkard, through and through.”

Bismarck saw these guys complaining all over and knew he had to find them something entertaining.

Being one of them, Bismarck knew nothing could cause more trouble than a bunch of bored university students.

Bismarck hurriedly proposed, “Why don’t we make a bet!”

“Make a bet?” The group perked up at the mention of gambling, “What should we bet on?”

Bismarck’s eyes twinkled, and his gaze again fell on the Young Italy badge on his chest. “Italians are yearning for unification, and so are the Germans. So why don’t we bet on whether Germany will unify within 30 years.”

Mottle, hearing this, confidently accepted the bet: “This is basically giving me money. I’ll bet you 25 bottles of champagne, that it won’t happen.”

Mottle’s words immediately drew the glares of some German students. What he said made them uneasy, but they couldn’t come up with any suitable counterarguments.

No matter how you looked at it, Germany didn’t seem like it could achieve unification in 30 years.

As everyone fell silent, Bismarck boldly accepted Mottle’s wager: “Alright, 25 bottles of champagne. I’ll take your bet. If Germany unifies in 30 years, I don’t even want your champagne. I just want you to swim across the Atlantic Ocean from Hamburg back to Boston.”