The Shadow of Great Britain

Chapter 1317: Chapter 178: Imperial Envoy

There is a reason for everything, but no concrete evidence.

——Arthur Agaresovich Hastings

”Imperial Envoy?”

”Imperial Envoy!”

”The Imperial Envoy will personally inspect!”

The mayor deliberately paused for a moment, then continued to add: ”It’s not just the Imperial Envoy, but he’s also from St. Petersburg, and he’s hiding his name, carrying the Emperor’s secret edict on him!”

This news spread like a thunderclap, quickly across the warm reception room of the City Hall, even tearing through the fierce blizzard, shaking the muddy alleys and dilapidated wooden houses along the streets.

The officials scrambled like a swarm of scattered bees, bustling around in a state of indescribable shock and panic.

The Postmaster, a fat middle-aged man, sat beside the mayor, pressing one hand on the red waistcoat stretched to the point of bursting by his big belly, panting heavily while holding a brightly polished copper tobacco pipe in the other hand.

The Postmaster’s eyes were wide open, as if he had seen a ghost, raising his hand to bang on the table in a show of bravado, only to shake the ashes onto his hand that made him jump with a grimace of pain, shouting uncontrollably, ”Imperial Envoy! Imperial Envoy! He’s not just anyone! Even the place under his bottom deserves the finest British velvet upholstery for the sofa!”

The nearby Inspector, a middle-aged man always wearing a strange tall hat, hurriedly stuffed a few pages of official documents into the pocket at his waist, then took out a cloth to wipe his glasses. He was trembling all over, muttering incessantly: ”The Imperial Envoy is coming, the Imperial Envoy is coming... I’m just a nobody, what should I do? I should prepare something for him, at least a decent reception—maybe tea, or Russia’s best... Oh dear, there’s nothing here!”

The officials were thrown into a flurry of panic, even the two gatekeeping policemen were thrown into chaos.

These two usually unremarkable little figures from Druiysk were filled with fear towards the unseen Imperial Envoy arriving with the majesty of an imperial edict from Saint Petersburg, seeing even those who usually strutted with power were at a loss, living in constant fear.

They whispered among themselves.

”Should we take out that old patrol car which three donkeys can’t even pull, and redecorate it a bit?”

”And those few rusty long rifles, we should give them a good cleaning, hoping at least their appearance looks as good as new, even if they can’t make a sound.”

One of the policemen frowned, complaining in a low voice: ”The Imperial Envoy is no joke. If he sees these tools we’ve set up, surely he’ll fine us thirty Rubles.”

Beside him, the older policeman was ashen-faced with fear, trembling all over: ”If it’s just a fine, it’s already lenient. Didn’t you see the look on the mayor’s face? I’m afraid he’ll send us all to exile in Siberia, never to return! We... we have to give him some face, or else... I’m really afraid this little town will be destroyed overnight.”

The mayor heard the conversation between the two policemen, glared at them fiercely, and questioned: ”Why are you two representing the police department at today’s meeting? Where is your Police Chief, Mr. Ivan Mikhailovich Skornikov, of Druiysk city?”

The little policeman quickly stood at attention and nervously reported: ”Report! The Chief is on duty today, so he sent us here!”

”On duty? Ha, the sun hasn’t even risen from the north, how did he suddenly gain such a sense of responsibility? Perhaps last night’s Vodka reminded him of the existence of work! Not showing up at the meeting and pretending, what on duty!”

The mayor angrily slammed the table, shouting: ”Get Ivan Mikhailovich here immediately! Tell him from me, if he’s so good at making up stories, he won’t need to be a Police Chief anymore. He can go back to St. Petersburg with the Imperial Envoy to find a role at the theater or the Circus!”

An elderly squire, hearing the mayor’s outburst, struck his cane twice heavily on the floor, speaking slowly: ”Mayor, I don’t think this is the time for tantrums; we must consider the broader picture now.”

The old squire was dressed in a slightly outdated high-quality ceremonial coat, deep blue or black cloth, the style already passé, the shoulder fabric worn shiny. Even though this coat had lost much of its luster due to age, the intricate carvings could still be found on the metal buttons if observed closely. He even persisted in mending it with needle and thread, despite some buttons already missing.

Why did this old gentleman love this coat so much?

If you glanced at the slightly oxidized Eighth Rank civil servant badge on his chest, everything would be clear.

Yes, this was a retired Russian Eighth Grade civil servant, highly respected in the whole of Druiysk.

You must know that even Mayor Bakarjin was just a Ninth Grade civil servant.

Though in title, the Mayor of Druiysk is equated with the Mayors of St. Petersburg and Moscow, but in those places, mayors are often Third Rank or higher civil servants, sometimes even First and Second Rank dignitaries concurrently serve as mayors.

And this old squire, he had served in the Caucasus Region since his youth, finally reaching the rank of Eighth Rank civil servant near retirement. By a stroke of luck, he was transferred to St. Petersburg to work for a few months in the year before retirement.