Chapter 157: The Crown's Jewels (1) After Guillaume de Toulon's declaration, the nobles gathered in front of the Ears of the Nation Luxury Hall split into two groups.
"Hmph! Just how magnificent are the clothes they make that we must be treated like this?!"
"Exactly! You're absolutely right!"
"My dear, we've been humiliated by a French frog. Why should we buy anything from a man like that? Let's go home. I'll buy you clothes twice as beautiful as anything he makes!"
These were the nobles who believed their pride had been trampled and turned their horses around in anger to head home.
"Hmph… well, I suppose I'll take a look. Let's see how impressive this place really is!"
"Tch. I rode for three days from Devon to get here. I can't exactly turn around now…"
"They say Her Royal Highness the Princess praised it highly. I'll endure it just this once."
These were the ones who steadied themselves and waited until nine o'clock—because of the effort and time spent traveling to London, because they wanted to see just how impressive this place was to justify such treatment, or because the royal family had praised it.
"My dear, they won't open the door?"
"They say it opens at nine in the morning. What should we do?"
"The thought of traveling all the way back to Manchester is dreadful… perhaps we should simply wait in the carriage for the children's sake."
"Very well. I'll follow your suggestion."
The Viscount from Manchester belonged to the latter group.
After waiting in the carriage for quite some time and even drifting into a light nap, the Viscount and his wife awoke to the ringing of a bell. They stepped out of the carriage, stretching their stiff necks.
"The Ears of the Nation Luxury Hall is now open!"
A neatly dressed young attendant rang the bell and opened the tightly shut doors. Nobles stepped down from their carriages one by one and entered the shop.
The Viscount, holding the hands of his wife and child, followed the attendant inside.
"Huh."
The Viscount let out an involuntary exclamation.
How should he describe it? It felt as if dignity itself overflowed in the place.
The shop interior rivaled any royal palace in Europe. It was filled with luxury and extravagance, yet it never gave the customers a vulgar impression.
Among everything, the golden light from the ceiling—glittering as though coated in gold—poured down with the sunlight in a way that perfectly matched the word beautiful.
Well, to be precise, Guillaume de Toulon had indeed ordered the workers to plate the ceiling so that it would appear golden.
"The ceiling won't be touched anyway. Just plate the surface so it shines like gold."
Even if it was not pure gold, surely it was fair to call it gold with a little exaggeration.
"They clearly spent a great deal of money on this place. Don't you think so, my dear?"
"Indeed. Even Windsor Castle, where His Majesty resides, may not be this beautiful."
"Father! Father! It's so luxurious!"
The customers, unaware of the trick behind the decoration, were so impressed by the grandeur that they completely forgot they had waited an hour outside.
"Monsieur, how may I assist you?"
A man approached the Viscount's family and spoke in elegant French.
At this time, many educated people knew French. Although the Viscount was not perfectly fluent, he responded quite competently.
"Ah, are you an attendant?"
"Yes, monsieur. What would you like to purchase?"
"My family would like to order a set of clothing."
"Very well, monsieur."
The attendant—wearing a gold-rimmed monocle and a neat black suit—led the Viscount's family to one side of the shop.
"What is this place?"
"These are leather and fabrics. Please feel them and choose the materials you like. We will inform our craftsmen accordingly."
The attendant smiled and slid open an entire wall.
"Good heavens… all of this is leather?"
"Yes, monsieur."
Color, texture, pattern, thickness—every kind of leather imaginable seemed to be gathered here.
"Amazing…"
The Viscount once again exclaimed in admiration at the wall filled with hundreds of types of leather and fabric.
"If you have any questions about the leather or fabrics, please feel free to ask."
"What leather is this?"
"Ah, that is Indian elephant leather. Judging from the texture, it is about two years old. It is excellent for wallets or bags, madam."
"And what about this?"
"Yes, young master. That is African rhinoceros leather."
Whatever they asked, the attendant answered smoothly and effortlessly. The Viscount and his wife could not hide their amazement.
"Now that you've chosen your materials, please follow me."
The attendant led the family to the opposite side of the shop.
Even the passageways were lined with glittering bags, watches, and wigs. Truly, when it came to luxury, the French were unmatched.
The Viscount walked with his mouth slightly open in awe.
"Next, we will measure your sizes. Madam, please do not worry. The Ears of the Nation also employs female attendants."
"Remarkable…"
"As our owner said, we are simply giving you the same experience as French royalty."
"R-royalty?"
Being treated like royalty?
"You mean the treatment we receive is the same as the Bourbons?"
"Of course. The Ears of the Nation was founded by former royal craftsmen and artisans who once worked directly for the royal family. Everything we create for our customers is made according to the same standards."
"Haha! This is an opportunity that money alone cannot buy!"
The Viscount laughed in delight at the rare experience he was enjoying.
At that moment, a commotion arose in another part of the shop.
"Arthur! You can't even afford this much?!"
"Th-that… I'll find the money somehow, my lady!"
"That's enough! I should have listened to my brother!"
"My lady! My lady!"
"…My apologies, sir."
"Hm? What for?"
The attendant bowed to the Viscount and approached the couple, pointing calmly toward the exit.
"Please leave."
The Ears of the Nation provides only the finest experience to its customers.
I grasped the hand of the man recommended to me by the Earl of Sandwich and shook it vigorously.
"I am Guillaume de Toulon, former Acting Controller-General of the French Treasury. A pleasure to meet you, Lord Wellesley."
"The pleasure is mine, Minister. I am Richard Colley Wellesley, Earl of Mornington and Chairman of the Board of Control for India. Your reputation precedes you."
"My reputation?"
"Are you not the Halifax of France? If a politician does not know your name, he cannot call himself a politician."
Hmm. I merely prevented things from going completely out of control…
"So then, Minister, what brings you here today?"
"Lord Wellesley, have you heard of the Ears of the Nation Luxury Hall?"
We shook hands and sat down.
"I've heard about it. The shop you run—the one rumored throughout London for creating the ring worn by Princess Charlotte. My own lover keeps insisting that I take her there."
As Wellesley said, the Ears of the Nation was prospering more every day.
Which also meant the materials were running out.
"I'm glad you know about it. It will make things easier. I would like to secure supplies of leather and jewels through your assistance."
"Hm… if you seek my assistance, you must mean the East India Company."
"…Is there a problem?"
Wellesley sighed deeply.
"If you understood what this Board of Control actually does, you would understand why I'm smiling bitterly."
"The fools at the East India Company make disasters everywhere. Only when the situation grows beyond their control do they quietly place reports on our desks, begging the government to clean up their mess!"
"They foolishly tried to sell tea, and when no one bought it they begged for the Tea Act. And what happened after the Tea Act passed? The entire New World broke away!"
"And they keep borrowing money from the City of London while maintaining an army whose purpose no one can even explain!"
"An army?"
"Fifty thousand men! Fifty thousand! How can there be more soldiers guarding some ridiculous Bengal fortress than those protecting His Majesty himself?!"
"Those idiots cause endless disasters, and yet our administration has to fix everything! You led the treasury, Minister—you must understand that feeling!"
"…Yes. It's pretty damn infuriating."
"Exactly! Infuriating!"
Ah… this man has quite a temper.
Lord Wellesley vented his frustrations for several minutes.
"Forgive me. I spend my days trapped in this suffocating London office. Now then—leather and jewels, you said?"
"That's right."
"Hm… give me some time to think. The East India Company is not an easy beast to control."
Just then the office door burst open.
"Brother! —Ah, you have a guest. My apologies."
A young man in the red uniform of a British army officer bowed.
"My younger brother," Wellesley said apologetically.
"I don't mind. Please speak with him first."
"Thank you. Arthur, what is it?"
"Nothing urgent. I'll come back later."
When he left, Wellesley sighed.
"My brother must be short on money again."
"Money?"
"Our family is drowning in debt. We sold most of our estates long ago."
I spoke slowly.
"Lord Wellesley… would you like to make some money with me?"
"Money?"
"Let's work together on a little venture. And while we're at it, we can put a leash on the East India Company."
"Now that sounds interesting, Minister."
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