In politics, nothing happens by accident. If it happens, you can bet it was planned that way.
— Franklin D. Roosevelt
In Paris, everyone has their own place; the poor can choose places like Faubourg Street in the Twelfth District, while the wealthy can settle on the Champs-Élysées. As the pride of European culinary culture, French restaurants, aside from high-end options like ’Le Grand Véfour’ and ’Le Procope,’ also offer many affordable eateries suitable for the middle class and ordinary citizens.
And for diplomats harboring untold secrets, Le Petit Palais hidden in the alley is a good choice.
This restaurant, set in a stone building, has an iron sign gently swaying at the entrance. Although the location is not very ideal, the restaurant owner, insisting on appearances, has furnished the place with plenty of wooden furniture, even hanging so seemingly random paintings on the slightly peeling walls.
A seemingly underage clumsy pianist was softly playing a piano piece he had only recently learned. Although the lody wasn’t unpleasant, the rhythm of the music seed extrely odd. Arthur frowned as he listened for a long ti, finally realizing the guy was playing his old friend Chopin’s "Nocturne."
Schneider sat right across the round table, which was partially obscured by a heavy deep red velvet curtain, ensuring their faces wouldn’t be seen by outsiders.
The dining table was set with antique and exquisite silverware and lit candle stands, the flickering candlelight casting shifting shadows on everyone’s faces.
Perhaps due to visiting Nightingale Mansion too often, Schneider seed to enjoy such a dim atmosphere.
Unfortunately, Arthur didn’t bring a whip today, and there were no passionate Parisian ladies in the sparsely populated restaurant, so Mr. Schneider could only pass the boring ti savoring the rough red wine, reminiscing about the beautiful mories of London.
However, their guest did not keep them waiting for long. Although the Deutsch are traditionally staid, they are known for punctuality.
"A truly dreadful performance."
Concise expression, a cold attitude bordering on rcilessness, alongside French spoken with a hint of Eastern European accent, the visitor’s identity was unmistakable.
He wore an exquisitely long-tailed tailcoat, its tails long and split, swaying gently with his steps.
Silk overcoat shimred with a pale blue glow under the candlelight, highlighting his already tall stature.
Golden buttons were embedded on the coat, every detail showcasing the Deutsch’s extre attention to detail.
Beneath the coat was an intricately embroidered golden vest.
The vest was made of premium satin, its patterns complex yet not cumberso; this didn’t an it was understated, as the glowing buttons revealed that each button was made of pure gold.
White linen shirt’s collar stood high and stiff, its chest adorned with delicate ruffles, a black silk bowtie neatly tied around his neck, perfectly underscoring his usual nobility and solemnity.
The ’von’ in his middle na, like the ’van’ in Dutch nas and the ’de’ in French nas, indicated his noble status.
William von Kror, cultural attaché of the Austrian Empire in France, and head of the Austrian intelligence station in France.
Arthur had previously learned from Schneider’s introduction that the Von Kror Family was very different from the ordinary Junker Landlords that Schneider’s family started out as. Although not as distinguished as the top nobility of the Germanic Region, their history was equally long.
The Von Kror Family’s ancestors were enfeoffed as hereditary nobility in the Kingdom of Bohemia during the 12th century due to their military achievents.
In the subsequent centuries, family mbers continued to flourish in other regions of Germany, with branches obtaining noble titles in Westphalia and Bavaria.
The branch Mr. William von Kror belongs to has been rooted in Vienna for quite so ti, though their most illustrious family mbers were not generals or politicians but rather musicians and composers.
Mr. von Kror himself had once dread of becoming a great pianist when he was young, but due to the vagaries of fate and lack of talent, he sohow ended up as an Austrian spy.
Nonetheless, due to long hours of piano practice during childhood, Mr. von Kror believed his musical taste to be refined, often taking on the role of music critic in Paris’ newspapers and magazines, comnting on pianists’ performances.
Mr. von Kror took off his gloves and handed them to the servant behind him, then said to them: "Go stand guard at the door; I want to catch up with old friends."
The male servant obligingly placed a hand on his chest and bowed slightly, then exited the restaurant.
Standing by the round table, von Kror first glanced at Arthur before turning his gaze to Schneider: "August, you said you found sothing interesting that you wanted to share with . You better not be lying; for this al with you, I pushed aside many important tasks, and I’m usually quite busy."
Schneider warmly invited von Kror to sit down, smiling as he said: "What were you originally planning to do tonight? Inspect those hiding Austrian anti-governnt elents in Paris, or perhaps collect special intelligence on the French Governnt?"
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