The Shadow of Great Britain-Chapter 1328 - 182: The Ruthless Constitutional Soldier Colonel

If there’s no evidence, then fabricate some evidence. Everything is for the nation, and the nation is for power. Let the lies become the truth, and let the truth be worthless. 𝕗𝚛𝚎𝚎𝐰𝗲𝗯𝗻𝚘𝚟𝚎𝗹.𝕔𝐨𝕞

— Arthur Agaresovich Hastings "Hestingov Novel Collection: A St. Petersburg Constitutional Soldier’s Soliloquy in the Night"

Mayor Bakarjin burst through the heavy oak door in a hurry, not greeted by the expected welcome but by a sharp rebuke.

"Can’t you open the door more gently? The carpet has just been cleaned!"

The mayor’s wife stood at the entrance of the living room, hands on her hips, her face full of undeniable anger.

She was wearing a well-fitted long house dress, the tight collar seemingly about to choke her fury.

Bakarjin helplessly stopped, slowly pulling back on his half-removed gloves, muttering as he did so, "Stop nagging! I just got back from City Hall; there’s official business to attend to today. I’m just home to change clothes, then I’m off again..."

"Official business?!" the wife interrupted, with a hint of mockery in her voice, "Is someone complaining about that damn street that was half paved and left unfinished?"

"No!" Bakarjin impatiently waved his hand, "This time it’s something big—the imperial envoy sent from St. Petersburg has arrived, and I’ve got to go and greet him!"

The wife was momentarily stunned, but her expression quickly shifted from surprise to anger: "Greet him? Looking like that, with mud all over your shoes? Is your idea of ’greeting’ letting him see you in this disheveled state?"

Before Bakarjin could finish his sentence, the fury on his wife’s face instantly froze. Her brows furrowed tightly, eyes darting as if weighing the significance of this statement. The next second, her anger transformed into a rare urgency and panic.

"Imperial envoy?" she almost shouted, her tone filled with unease and shock, "Oh my God! Why didn’t you say so earlier? This is about the family’s reputation!"

Bakarjin barely had time to respond before the wife spun around like a cat whose tail had been stepped on, clutching at her skirt, her voice rising by eight octaves: "Valeriy! Valeriy! Come quickly! And Peter! Immediately bring out the best suit—not the old one, the new one, and that one with the gold buttons, hurry up!"

The servant Valeriy rushed out from the kitchen, face full of confusion: "Madam, which suit?"

"The one sent from Moscow last month that he hasn’t had the chance to wear yet! My God, Peter, move faster, stop dawdling! And the shoes, he needs those polished shoes that you can see your reflection in—why are you all not moving faster!"

Bakarjin looked helplessly at his jacket, which although not dirty, was indeed a far cry from the ’etiquette’ the wife expected. He gestured, attempting to explain: "I just came home to change clothes; I’ve already had the formal wear ironed, and the suit—"

"Suit?" The wife sharply raised her voice, "You mean that one you ruined at New Year’s last year? Don’t tell me, you blockhead! You want to wear that to meet the imperial envoy!"

Servant Peter peeked out from the storage room, arms full of miscellaneous clothes, clearly unsure which to fetch. He asked timidly, "Madam, is it the coat with the patterns, or—"

"Shut up! I want the black one with the silver stitching!" The wife nearly screamed, "Do you want the imperial envoy to think our family doesn’t even have decent clothes? Hurry up!"

Bakarjin stood by the door, watching as his wife stormed about the house like a hurricane, Valeriy and Peter scrambling about in search of clothes and shoes. He looked down at his slightly muddy shoes, then raised his head, trying to interject: "Madam, actually the imperial envoy—"

"You shut up!" The wife spun around, pointing her finger at his nose and shouting, "The only thing you need to do now is stand there and don’t move, don’t get the carpet dirty! Once the clothes are found, immediately go wash up, comb your hair neatly. The imperial envoy is coming, and if he sees you looking this scruffy, the Bakarjin family’s face will be thoroughly lost!"

She paused, panting, then shouted again towards Valeriy: "Remember to match that black-edged bow tie for him; the imperial envoy is not a casual person!"

Valeriy responded and dashed upstairs while the wife grumbled and looked around, suddenly remembering something: "The table! Peter, go wipe the table! And replace the living room’s candelabras with new ones, all of them with the silver-plated ones we brought back from St. Petersburg last time! Hurry up!"

Bakarjin listened to his wife’s endless commands, his head gradually drooping as if wishing he could disappear into the floor. However, he clearly failed at that, as his wife’s gaze once again turned to him.

The scene was like a canary being stared down by a hawk, except the small and delicate mayor’s wife played the role of the hawk, while the large and sturdy Bakarjin turned into the canary.

"Right!" The mayor’s wife suddenly raised her voice, "Aleksey! Don’t mess up this time! Once you meet the imperial envoy, you must invite him home for dinner! Having such a distinguished guest in a small place like ours, just having him look at you as mayor is a blessing from God! Invite him home for dinner, understood? Dinner!"

Bakarjin subconsciously nodded, whispering, "Madam, I know, I was planning to do just that, but—"

"No buts!" The wife interrupted mercilessly, "In such a situation, it’s not just about your personal face, it’s the glory of our whole family! If the imperial envoy is willing to sit at our dining table, the entire Druiysk, no, the entire Vitebsk officialdom, your greedy superiors in the province will all regard us differently, do you understand?"