The Shadow of Great Britain

Chapter 1325: Chapter 180: Army Councillor Hestingov, 6th Rank (Part 3)

Bang!

The mayor slammed the table suddenly, making the inspector tremble violently three times.

The mayor accused harshly: ”You think this is just your own business? Usually, I tell you not to overdo it, but none of you listen to my words, treating them as gossip blowing past your ears. Now you’ve attracted the imperial envoy, and you all finally understand the severity, don’t you!”

The inspector, being scolded by the mayor, also flared up stubbornly.

Ultimately, his real superior was not Mayor Bakarjin, but the Province Inspector of Vitebsk.

Usually, they discuss matters peacefully, and he could give Bakarjin some face, but if things escalate and get tense, he wouldn’t feel compelled to indulge the mayor.

Retorting sarcastically, the inspector said: ”I only ended up hitting Ivanovna a few times because of my impudent remarks, which at most indicates a problem with my management style. But you, on the other hand, when your household servants go to the butcher to buy meat, they only pay half the price. When they go to the fabric store to buy fine wool cloth, they insist on paying the price for coarse cloth. That’s not all; you buy two Russian arshins of cloth but take hold of the entire bolt. You’re the one with economic issues!”

The mayor’s facial muscles twitched a few times, deeply inhaled while suppressing his anger, and coldly stared at the inspector: ”Are these the things you’re trying to leverage against me? You think I’ll be intimidated by these threats? You’re nothing but a meddling teacher, playing the righteous fool; what qualifies you to act all high-and-mighty before me?”

The inspector sneered disdainfully in response: ”I’m only stating the facts. Your servant buys meat and gives half the money; that’s not just an economic issue, but wanton infringement on the people’s interests! As for the fabric, you bought it at the expense of others’ full dedication and hard work, yet you took advantage of it; that’s something sternly condemned from above! You’re good at pursuing ’low-key business,’ but ultimately put the blame for attracting the imperial envoy on my shoulders. How do you expect everyone to respect your authority?”

The inspector’s words promptly resonated with everyone present in the room, throwing their gaze at the mayor.

The mayor knew that if he continues to let the inspector provoke him like this, even his reputation and position might be in jeopardy.

Hence, he pretended to be angry while slamming the pile of accounts, and raised his voice to severely reprimand: ”You think your words make me feel guilty? Let me tell you, Aleksey Portnovich, I admit you have a bit of cleverness, but I warn you—never forget: when does Druiysk ever let you have a say? You’re just a scholar living off ’teaching,’ not provoking my bottom line! If you retract your words now, I might forgive you.”

Others noticed that the mayor found it difficult to back down, so they stepped forward to mediate between the two stubborn parties.

”Alright, Inspector, Mayor, you’re both working for His Majesty the Tsar; what’s the point of all this disagreement?”

To their surprise, the inspector didn’t buy it; he was provoked by the mayor’s words, determined to find out who would prevail today.

Fire flashed in the inspector’s eyes: ”You’re right; I’m just a scholar without much background or authority. But don’t forget, ’civil servants sometimes become generals’ isn’t just an empty phrase. Who will stand behind you if your ship overturns?”

Seeing the inspector still resisting him, the mayor also became genuinely furious, replying: ”What you’re saying amounts to baseless accusations. We are all clean and honest officials; how can we let such petty, insignificant matters affect the bigger picture? You’re overly eager to make things seem severe; in my opinion, we needn’t argue. The imperial envoy will soon arrive, so since you question me, let’s candidly allow him to investigate thoroughly and see if the truth stands as you claim.”

Knock, knock, knock!

Just as the mayor finished speaking, anxious knocking sounded from outside the door.

The mayor was already worked up and couldn’t help but curse: ”Who’s the damned whelp rushing to Hell?”

The knocking ceased for a moment, replaced by the furious voice of an elder aristocrat: ”Bakarjin! You son of a donkey, you dare curse me? You dare curse me, the dignified Empire Eighth Rank Civil Servant, Grigory Nikiforovich Zakharov? Damnable mayor! You’re no more than a street thug in smelly boots, thinking you’re an official just because you wear a cap and a shabby official robe!”

This curse nearly shook the door, and the rings on it emitted a few piercing sounds. Mayor Bakarjin’s face instantly turned blue; his earlier anger hadn’t calmed, yet was thrown off balance by this unexpected ”lord’s” interruption.

Seeing no one responded to him, the elder aristocrat got even more agitated, continuing his outraged cries, sharper: ”You damn bastard, truly think wearing a ragged shirt turns you into the Lord? Let me tell you, back in the day, I drank tea in the palace, feasted, and sat at tables with real nobility full of flesh and bone! What does your tattered outfit count for? You parade yourself with a handful of copper coins, pretending to be noble in front of me! You’re no better than the corner bully, a creature that devours without discarding the bones! You dare holler at me? You dare act like some big dog in front of me? I did nothing wrong back then, but you—how many filthy deeds have you done, how many have you deceived? Truly believe the deities can’t see your sordid dealings? Think you can keep sitting on that seat supported by cursed coins without falling?”

The elder aristocrat’s voice was like a tempest, each word flowing with fury, shaking Mayor Bakarjin to the core.

The mayor’s face shifted from green to white, his eyes first flickering with fear, then overtaken by anger.

He stood abruptly, face flushed, finger trembling as he pointed toward the door.

”You old bastard, truly dare shout in my face! You’re a shameless retired civil servant; what makes you act like a lord before me? Who do you think you are? You’re not more noble than I am, long lost the right to criticize me!”

However, the elder aristocrat’s rage didn’t abate a bit; instead, it intensified, his voice sharp as nails hammered into Bakarjin’s heart.

”Let me tell you, Bakarjin, Lord Hestingov isn’t here to play in your rotten place. Justice is like the sun, divine eyes are keen! The imperial envoy’s sight is far sharper than you imagine! Once he sees your true self, even your head won’t be spared. You’re a behead-worthy scum, destined to be handcuffed and shackled, dragged to Kazan Square, displayed to the public, ordered by the Emperor himself to behead your stinking head!”

Mayor Bakarjin’s face turned ashen, his body trembled, stammering almost incoherently: ”Wh... what? Lord Hestingov...”

This sentence struck Bakarjin like a thunderbolt, leaving his mouth slightly agape, clearly shaken.

At that moment, the mayor’s inner world seemed emptied out, his thoughts chaotic, arrogant confidence and recent anger dissolving instantly, leaving only overwhelming fear surging like a tide.

Subconsciously, he retreated a step, his gaze somewhat dodging, even feeling uneasy and fearful.

Yet soon, he regained clarity, and the mayor hastily opened the door, respectfully inviting the elder aristocrat in: ”You... you just mentioned Lord Hestingov... How could it be, how is it possible he...”

The mayor’s voice was subdued, carrying a hint of conspiratorial flattery: ”Grigory Nikiforovich, since you know so much, it’s quite unexpected. It seems we need to sit down and discuss properly. What you said about Lord Hestingov... Ha-ha... don’t be angry; I didn’t know it was you who came...”

The elder aristocrat snorted, throwing the bear-skin hat on the table: ”Angry? I’m not angry! Why should I be angry? I’m merely an insignificant Eighth Rank civil servant, retired at that, enduring some irritation is part of the deal! But Lord Hestingov—a Sixth Rank Army counselor of the Empire, directly under the Third Bureau’s Constitutional Army Staff—was stranded by you, Druiysk mayor, for five days and nights in a small inn. Bakarjin, though devoid of conscience, you certainly have guts!”