SGB Chapter 287

## Chapter 287: The Sword Saint’s Grand Scheme (5K6)

The evening’s chill wind, carrying a light drizzle, blew into the private room, soaking the curtains hanging by the window.

A bead of sweat formed on Bertrand’s forehead. He glanced at the suitcase overflowing with banknotes. With his exceptional eyesight, he could almost see the sharp edges of each bill.

Arthur smiled at him and said, “So, Mr. Bertrand, what do you think?”

Bertrand snorted, placed his hand on the suitcase lid, and slammed it shut with a snap. He stood up, glaring at Arthur, and said, “Mr. Hastings, are you trying to buy my honor with money? I, Francois-Joseph Bertrand, the glory of modern swordsmanship, the representative of the French rapier! To measure my worth with pounds sterling is the greatest insult I have ever received since my birth!”

Arthur sighed in exasperation, placed his hand on his forehead, and shook his head slightly. “Louis.”

Louis Bonaparte, upon hearing his superior’s command, simply pulled out a warm check from his pocket and placed it on top of the suitcase.

He said, “As you can see, Mr. Bertrand, the suitcase contains nine stacks of bills, ten notes in each stack, each worth one pound sterling, totaling ninety pounds. And this check in my hand is an anonymous check from Rothschild Bank, worth one hundred and twenty pounds. Adding this to the appearance fee you received from the organizers, you will earn a total of two hundred and sixty pounds for this match. The current exchange rate between pounds sterling and francs is roughly one to twenty-five, so two hundred and sixty pounds translates to six thousand five hundred francs.

As far as I know, this sum is enough for you to buy a house with a garden on the Champs-Elysees in Paris. Or if you prefer a steady income, you can deposit the six thousand five hundred francs in the Paris branch of Rothschild, where the annual interest rate is around 5%, yielding an annual income of 325 francs. Although it might not guarantee you a lavish meal every day, it should be enough to visit a normal restaurant once a day.”

Arthur smiled and said, “Louis, I thought you grew up in Switzerland. Perhaps you don’t know the prices in Paris?”

Louis Bonaparte replied with a modest smile, “I really don’t know. But didn’t you forget? Mr. Dumas is an expert in Parisian life. My knowledge of prices there is almost entirely from ‘The Count of Monte Cristo.'”

Arthur nodded slightly and turned his gaze back to the sweating Bertrand. “So, Mr. Bertrand, as you can see, the weight of friendship is as heavy as a house with a garden on the Champs-Elysees. Sometimes, people have to make choices between honor and friendship. Solitary strongmen always lack friends, just like Master George Silver. I understand his desire to preserve the traditions of English swordsmanship. But sometimes, to put it mildly, a more tactful approach and a more appropriate method might be more beneficial to the development of his beloved English dagger techniques.

However, it is precisely because Master George Silver doesn’t know how to adapt that his Silver Flow Swordsmanship has been swept into the dust of time. As you saw in London, English martial arts have been in decline for a long time. In this regard, Master Michel Hunter did a good job. He understands that times are changing, so sword masters should also change their paths.

To be honest, Mr. Bertrand, although we are about to become opponents on the dueling stage, I truly admire your swordsmanship philosophy. You reduced the traditional eight fencing positions to the commonly used four, and you innovatively shifted the center of gravity to the space between the legs. This allows swordsmen to follow up their defensive actions with counterattacks.

This technique is very avant-garde and aligns well with Master Hunter’s style of being unrestrained, flexible, and adaptable. In terms of swordsmanship, you are a true master, while I am just a novice. But you understand, on the British stage, if the two of us don’t fight spectacularly, if we both resort to ugly defensive stances for the sake of winning, oh my God, I can’t even imagine what will happen.

You may not know, the London audience is very hot-tempered. If we disappoint them in the opening match, then the rest of the performances won’t be able to proceed as planned. The stage will be overturned, and there will be flying bottles everywhere in the audience. Mr. Bertrand, you have to believe me. I’m a Scotland Yard police officer. I have too much experience with riots that can occur during large-scale performances.”

The sweat on Bertrand’s forehead dripped onto the back of his hand. His eyes, like carrion vultures, stared fixedly at Arthur. All he saw was the young police superintendent’s gentle smile.

He wanted to slam his fist on the table, he wanted to declare that his honor was not for sale, he wanted to denounce Arthur’s unethical behavior.

But, but…

They were offering too much!

Bertrand took a deep breath and said, “Mr. Hastings, you always know that I value honor and would never easily abandon it.”

Arthur nodded and smiled. “That’s right, valuing honor is essential for sword masters.”

Bertrand stood up, his voice filled with emotion. “But I also cherish the friendship between me and my friends!”

Louis Bonaparte’s cold face also showed a hint of a smile. “Yes, friendship is also very important.”

Bertrand’s face flushed red as he declared loudly, “If one day, my honor and my friendship clash…”

Arthur, upon hearing this, slowly stood up and recited in English, “Fish, I desire it. Bear’s paw, I also desire it. The two cannot be obtained together, so I choose the bear’s paw while giving up the fish. Life, I desire it. Righteousness, I also desire it. The two cannot be obtained together, so I choose righteousness while giving up life.”

Bertrand shuddered upon hearing this, unable to help but clap his hands in approval. “Mr. Hastings, you truly spoke my heart! Honor is what I want, and friendship is also what I want. The two cannot be obtained together, so I choose friendship while giving up honor! These words are so philosophical. Where did you learn them?”

Arthur smiled and said, “These are the words of an Eastern philosopher. I just borrowed them.”

“An Eastern philosopher! Oh my God! Mr. Hastings, how can we be so alike!”

Bertrand exclaimed, “So you like Eastern philosophers too? You probably don’t know, but I’m the same way. It seems we can really connect. Speaking of which, do you know Mr. Voltaire? The conscience of Europe, the king of French thought, I am his admirer. It was from Mr. Voltaire’s writings that I learned about Eastern philosophy.”

Arthur chuckled lightly and teased, “Then which of Mr. Voltaire’s works do you like best?”

“Oh my God! There are so many.”

Bertrand racked his brains, trying to draw closer to Arthur. His mind had never spun so fast in his life, its speed was like the sword flourishes he performed.

Bertrand suddenly slapped his thigh and said, “Mr. Voltaire has many works, but my favorite is a little anecdote he shared with the French public, an anecdote about Sir Isaac Newton.”

“Oh?” Arthur asked curiously, “Mr. Voltaire has a connection with Sir Isaac Newton?”

Bertrand laughed heartily. “To be precise, it’s related to Sir Isaac Newton’s niece. Mr. Voltaire said he heard this story from her. It is said that one day, Newton was walking in the garden of his former residence at Cambridge University when he saw an apple fall from a tree and hit his head. Newton had a flash of inspiration, and the origin of gravity was born.”

Arthur couldn’t help but mutter softly, “So this story came from Voltaire’s mouth?”

Bertrand didn’t hear Arthur’s words. He leaned forward and asked, “What did you say?”

“Nothing,” Arthur replied with a smile. “I was saying that the apple that hit Newton is on display in a shop on Jermyn Street. If you have time, I’ll take you there sometime.”

“That apple is still there?” Bertrand was shocked.

Even Louis Bonaparte was surprised. He asked, “Sir, are you serious?”

Arthur took a sip of tea, paused briefly, and said, “Not only is it real, but that apple is also wormy. Although I can’t guarantee that the worm has seen Mr. Voltaire, it probably saw Newton’s niece.”

Bertrand was filled with awe. “If that’s the case, I have to make a pilgrimage to that place. Compared to this friendship with Mr. Voltaire, my little honor is utterly insignificant.”

Arthur gently waved his hand. “No, Mr. Bertrand, don’t misunderstand. I’m not trying to make you lose your honor completely. I said from the beginning that I just wanted to be friends with you.”

“Hmm?” Bertrand frowned slightly. “What do you mean?”

Arthur snapped his fingers and called out, “Louis.”

Louis Bonaparte reopened the suitcase and pulled out two neat and clean file folders from under the banknotes, placing them on the table.

He introduced them, “As you can see, there are two file folders here. The one on the left contains the script for your victory, and the one on the right contains the script for Mr. Hastings’ victory. As Mr. Hastings said, our goal is to play this match well, not to disappoint the audience, rather than being obsessed with a simple win or loss.

Furthermore, Mr. Hastings will be playing his carefully prepared second piano piece after this duel, so he absolutely cannot injure his arm, or rather, he cannot really injure his arm. You can choose to have a real duel with Mr. Hastings here today, and the final outcome of today’s duel will determine which play the audience will see on the day of the performance.”

Bertrand, upon hearing this, felt the last of his lingering concerns disappear. He turned to Arthur, who nodded slightly at him, and a sense of indescribable respect arose in his heart.

“Mr. Hastings, I… I’m sorry, I misjudged you. I should have known, an upright Scotland Yard officer, a respected destroyer of evil, how could he do something like buying someone with money? You… you’re not buying me, you’re genuinely considering the audience. I have no objections to your approach. Please allow me to apologize. I, Francois-Joseph Bertrand, will accept your proposal right here and now!”

Arthur smiled and nodded. “Mr. Bertrand, it’s nothing. I said from the beginning that I respect you very much. It’s already enough of a desecration to have you perform a stage play on the dueling stage. How dare I even change the outcome of the duel? May God witness our battle of honor. Louis, lend your police dagger to Mr. Bertrand. While we wait for the food, we’ll rehearse here today.”

Louis Bonaparte didn’t say a word. He simply took the police dagger from his waist and handed it over.

Bertrand took the sword and drew it with a clang, his beard reflecting on the bright white blade. He couldn’t help but exclaim, “What a good knife! This blade is much stronger than the swords we use at our fencing club. Do ordinary Scotland Yard officers use such good weapons?”

“Not really,” Arthur smiled and stood up, holding the police dagger. “This knife was custom-made by Louis, it’s not part of the standard equipment issued by Scotland Yard.”

“Custom-made?”

Bertrand’s gaze shifted slightly upward, finally settling on the two decorative crests engraved on the hilt. One was the Imperial Eagle, symbolizing the First French Empire, and the other was the Golden Bee, representing the Bonaparte family. Below the two crests, the owner’s name was inscribed: Charles-Louis-Napoleon Bonaparte.

Bertrand’s body shuddered. His palms were soaked in sweat, and his knees even felt a little weak.

He looked up at Louis Bonaparte, who had a walrus mustache, and his voice trembled as he asked, “May I ask, Napoleon Bonaparte is…”

Louis simply nodded, his eyes revealing no emotion. “Yes, you guessed right. Napoleon Bonaparte is my uncle.”

Bertrand’s hand holding the police dagger trembled, he didn’t know whether it was from excitement or fear.

He swallowed, then asked, “Then your father is?”

Louis Bonaparte sighed, he didn’t know whether it was happiness or sadness, his tone was quite flat.

“Napoleon’s fourth brother, Louis Bonaparte, was once King of Holland, but he was later forced to abdicate. By the way, after the Coup of 18 Brumaire, when the French Empire was just established, he was the Chief of Police of Paris. So, as you can see, although I didn’t become a king, I’m now a police officer in Scotland Yard. Maybe I can become a police chief later. In a way, I’m following in my father’s footsteps.”

Arthur smiled and comforted him. “Louis, don’t be discouraged. As your boss, I guarantee you’ll become a police chief in the future. As for the king, I don’t have that much power, but I think you might become something bigger than a king in the future.”

Louis Bonaparte just took it as Arthur joking with him. He waved his hand. “Arthur, forget it, don’t make fun of me. I know my limitations. I got a lot thanks to my name, but I have nothing thanks to myself. I was born a noble, but my nature and political views are democratic.

I could have inherited everything, but I actually yearned for elections. I know some people want to use me, they flatter me because of my name, and some because of my titles.

If I take a step beyond the ordinary, people will say I’m ambitious. If I stay quietly in the corner, people will say I’m indifferent. In a nutshell, my name inspires similar fear among both liberals and absolutists.

Even if I had the intention, my only political allies could only be found among gamblers, because they believe that among many possibilities, I might be a useful pawn. In this regard, my cousin who is far away in Vienna has already demonstrated this to me. He has become a prisoner of the Austrian Empire and Metternich.”

Louis Bonaparte had just finished speaking, before Arthur could reply, Bertrand’s excited voice suddenly rang out in the room.

“No, that’s not true, sir!”

Bertrand knelt on one knee, holding the police dagger in both hands and presenting it to Louis. He shouted excitedly, “Perhaps because you are abroad, you don’t understand what the name Bonaparte represents for France. Neither the Bourbons of the past nor the Orléans of today can bring true glory to France. I don’t care what those people say, I don’t listen to what those people say, in our hearts, that noble, supreme position has always belonged to that man. Sir, please remember, no matter what rumors you hear, the highest honor and the only creed of the Bertrand family is that the sword of a Bertrand family man will always be wielded only for the Bonaparte family!”

Arthur, upon hearing this, couldn’t help but lean back in his chair, placing one hand over his mouth and muttering, “Damn! So he can do it without money?”

The Red Devil, who was watching the drama unfold, couldn’t help but slap his thigh and laugh heartily, “Arthur, you little bastard, you also have your blunders! You know bringing the Bonaparte family’s little ghost might have an effect on the French, but you didn’t expect it to be this good!”

Louis, seeing this situation, was stunned for a moment, then he felt a bit excited and moved. He sighed, “Mr. Bertrand, please stand up. I appreciate your loyalty to France, but this honor doesn’t belong to me. As you said, it belongs to him.”

Arthur also nodded slightly when he saw this. “Mr. Bertrand, as Louis said, you should stand up first. Even if you want to swear allegiance like a medieval knight, you have to finish this duel with me, don’t you?”

Bertrand, upon hearing this, slowly stood up with the help of the table, his hands still trembling, showing that his excitement wasn’t feigned. For such a staunch Bonapartist, nothing could be more joyous than meeting a core member of the Bonaparte family.

He took a few heavy breaths, then managed to squeeze out a smile. “I’m sorry, Mr. Hastings, I lost my composure. But I think there’s no need to duel anymore today. I can’t attack you, I can’t stain my sword with the blood of a close friend of the Bonaparte family, especially since you’re my friend. I…”

Louis, upon hearing this, quickly interrupted him, asking repeatedly, “But what about the script, and your honor, what will you do if you don’t fight…?”

Bertrand waved his hand. He seemed to have let go a bit.

He drew the police dagger, stood at attention, and performed a sword flourish. “Sir, for me, being able to serve the Bonaparte family is the greatest honor. Besides, this also coincides with my friendship with Mr. Hastings. Winning or losing is a small matter. If I can’t see through this, what face do I have to call myself the Sword Saint of Paris? I’m just a flattered name, Napoleon of the Rapier. And now, the real Napoleon is standing before me, how can I have the audacity to compete with him?”

Inspired by Bertrand’s words, Louis wanted to continue persuading him. “But…”

But Bertrand had already made up his mind. He grabbed the handle of the suitcase and lifted it, his face full of righteousness as he announced loudly, “Sir, don’t persuade me anymore! I’ve made up my mind! Mr. Hastings, the script, I choose the second one. For the sake of honor and friendship, please defeat me!”

(End of chapter)