Russia, Saint Petersburg, along the Moika River, not far from the British Embassy near the Winter Palace.
Arthur sat in his office chair, arms crossed, with a pipe in his mouth, his eyes fixed on the velvet-adorned brocade box on the desk.
A second-class Saint Anna dal, embedded with red enal and gold, lay quietly inside, the golden sword decoration and ribbon adding more gravity and glory to its already luxurious appearance.
Upon seeing this dal, Arthur couldn’t help but recall the scene from last night where the Tsar awarded him the dal.
The Tsar appeared in black military dress adorned with gold embroidery, and with a slight lift of his hand, he could halt the music and draw everyone’s attention.
The Tsar took the dal from the golden tray and personally pinned it onto Arthur’s chest, with a ticulousness as if afraid to wrinkle Arthur’s fine clothes. Such a gentle deanor and action almost made one forget his nickna was actually ’the Stick’.
And after the previous unpleasant diplomatic negotiations, the Tsar’s words when awarding the dal sounded even a bit ironic.
"To comnd Sir Arthur Hastings for his talents and wisdom in science, art, and culture, and especially for his outstanding contributions in maintaining world order, as well as his profound understanding and contributions to British and Russian relations, I, Nicholas I, Emperor of the Russian Empire, hereby grant him this dal which symbolizes honor and trust — the second-class Saint Anna dal."
At the end, after the award ceremony, the Tsar even unexpectedly patted his shoulder in an amiable manner, encouragingly saying: "This is not only your reward but also our expectation for your future."
A reward...
Arthur did indeed receive it; the second-class Saint Anna dal was exceedingly magnificent in design.
From the right shoulder to the left waist, coupled with a wide red silk ribbon, the sash was also very beautiful.
Moreover, the Saint Anna dal awarded by the Tsar to Arthur was a military version with a sword, thus he also received a Russian court ceremonial sword as a symbolic accessory.
But what exactly did the Tsar an by future expectation?
Arthur couldn’t fathom it.
Should he strive harder to continue opposing him?
If that was the case, Arthur felt the Tsar need not have given such an extravagant gift, as he intended to do so anyway.
But on the other hand, perhaps the Tsar was using the dal ceremony to demonstrate to the British delegation his magnanimity, showcasing the forbearance expected of a great nation’s leader?
Arthur pondered this; it was indeed a high possibility.
After all, many leaders knew how to employ this thod of operation. Naturally, the role of the strict enforcer had subordinates to perform for them.
Even disregarding the diplomatic impact, a Tsar glaring and huffing at a cultural attaché would look truly unbecoming.
Arthur took out the Saint Anna dal and weighed it lightly in his hand. He had to admit, it felt quite heavy, a solid weight of at least fifty to sixty grams. One must realize that the dal’s body was pure gold; even excluding the enal decoration, the gold content was at least thirty to forty grams.
Although, when converted to currency value, this gold was worth only four or five pounds, holding such a large piece of gold in hand clearly felt better than holding a few paper notes.
Knock knock knock!
"Co in."
Blackwell, the personal secretary, entered: "Sir, news just arrived. The Russians have withdrawn from Moldavia and Wallachia."
Hearing this news, Arthur couldn’t help raising an eyebrow: "They withdrew? Are you sure?"
"Confird, it’s official news." Blackwell smiled as he placed the file he was holding in front of Arthur: "I heard about what happened at the Winter Palace yesterday from Colonel Stewart. You really showed your abilities this ti, and the credit for the Russian withdrawal has at least half to be attributed to you. Making such a significant contribution in your first important diplomatic appearance surely His Majesty the King and Viscount Palston will look at you in a new light."
Hearing this good news, Arthur was not the least bit happy. Instead, he took a puff of his pipe, frowning even more.
Blackwell was puzzled: "What’s the matter with you?"
Arthur stood up, looking out at the bustling Nevsky Prospect through the window with his hands behind his back: "What abilities, what achievents, what ’new light,’ Henry? Do you know how deep the water is in the Volga River?"
Blackwell was puzzled by Arthur’s question: "The water in the Volga River? Have you asured it?"
"Never asured it. However, I know that even the shallowest part of the Volga River is enough to drown ." Arthur mused, "I don’t have any great abilities, and sotis I act recklessly, but having suffered enough, even a fool can understand so common sense."
"Common sense?" Blackwell pondered with the files in his arms for a long ti: "Are you saying most people don’t even understand common sense?"
"What else?"
Arthur paced around restlessly, flipping through a few classics of Sinology sent by Pushkin that morning: "The most basic common sense is to recognize oneself. I don’t think a few words from could make the Tsar order a withdrawal. If I really had that skill, I wouldn’t have been kicked from London to St. Petersburg."
Agares nodded in agreent from the side: "Exactly, Arthur, your assessnt is very fair. I like you being a frank rascal. You almost drowned in the Thas River swimming competition, and if it weren’t for the tily rescue, you’d already be at the bottom."
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