Chapter 17: The German Who Ate at a Tyrant's Table

  The carriage quickly entered the outer harbor area of Pera Gate.

  Outer Harbour District, although it has the word "harbour" in its name, this is not a place like Lower Harbour District where you can smell the stench of seawater everywhere. The district is lined with commercial offices, and residents of Constantinople often refer to it as the "Foreigners' Quarter". As the name suggests, the main inhabitants of this district are merchants from all over Western Europe. If you want to appreciate the architectural styles of various countries without having to travel far, a stroll around this district will satisfy your desire. However, what makes this district most famous is its restaurants that serve cuisine with unique national characteristics. I used to work under Minister of Finance Ericks in the Financial Court, and if the districts within Constantinople were ranked by tax revenue, this one would definitely be among the top ten.

  Wendell's carriage stopped in front of a French restaurant marked with French signs. This district, established in the 15th century, was young in ancient Constantinople. The streets were paved with cobblestone roads, and many buildings were filled with classical styles of that era, red brick walls, prominent signboards, and second-floor open semi-circular windows with bright flower pots hanging from them.

  Greek, French, English, and Illyrian dialects were being spoken by merchants from all over the world, and the restaurant where we dined had a Greek workshop-produced woolen carpet at the entrance, with grandiose decorations and golden ornaments inside, as well as waiters holding their heads high. Everywhere was filled with an atmosphere of luxury and arrogance. The owner of this restaurant is a genius, able to bring together the faces that France presents to various countries in a small restaurant.

  Yes, in fact the restaurant is not small at all, but rather very big, and there are many employees. After I was seated, I was immediately surrounded by four waiters. After they bowed, I guarantee that if it were an ordinary person's first time eating here, they would instantly feel a sense of superiority.

  The dimly lit dining room, a white candle burning on the table, Wendell sat across from me, her eyes met mine and she smiled slightly, saying "May I have the pleasure of recommending today's lunch for you?"

  I nodded after a moment's thought, and Wendi seemed to be here often, without looking at the menu, she handed it back to the waiter beside her. A string of French came out of her red lips, the waiter understood and immediately retreated, then a bottle of chilled Burgundy wine was brought up.

  Burgundy's wines are very expensive, and their status in French red wine is the same as that of Cretan wine in the Roman Empire, which is the first choice for high society. However, even among famous products, there are differences. Different wineries have different brewing methods and grape planting methods, and the produced wine naturally has its own grade. The bottle of wine opened before me should be from the Romanée vineyard under the name of Saint-Vivant Abbey in Burgundy.

  It is ironic that the monks who took vows of abstinence invented the most palatable wine. In France, the Abbey of Saint-Vivant de Vergy means one thing: the most delicious and expensive wines in France. This also means that the wines of the Abbey of Saint-Vivant de Vergy are reserved for the most powerful nobles and royalty of France.

  This French restaurant can't possibly have a bottle of Romanee Conti, so the only explanation is that it belongs to Windell's private collection.

  Heaven knows how much gold this bottle of red wine can exchange for, anyway the beautiful woman raised her glass and I followed suit, taking a sip.

  "Is the lady a regular here?" I asked casually.

  Wendy swirled the liquid in her glass and smiled. "The answer is half right. Actually, I'm the host here because I'm French."

  Does being French mean you have to open a French restaurant? Since his wife didn't want to talk about it, I didn't ask further.

  Not long after, a group of guests arrived near our second-floor window seat.

  Two young men and four middle-aged uncles with German mustaches, the first young man looked around the empty hall, then he spoke in a strange Greek dialect and chose his seat. It was strange that he didn't choose a position by the window, but instead chose the one near the stairs.

  This piqued my interest. I took a sip of red wine and observed them carefully. The four middle-aged uncles were dressed in the style of wealthy Western families, but they looked worn out, giving off an air of embarrassment at first glance. Two young men, one of whom had just spoken, removed his triangular hat, revealing a head of blond hair. He was very fair-skinned, with pale skin and red lips, looking like a living embodiment of a creamy young nobleman. The other one was slightly less so, but still a standard German-blooded handsome guy.

  Eight waiters, imagining they were being driven away by four German uncles as usual, were rebuked by the blond young man. The four uncles looked at each other and had to retreat reluctantly to one side.

  The two of them started ordering. The blond young man, speaking fluent French, rattled off over a dozen dish names in one breath, causing the uncle who had come in with him to turn pale and hurry over to whisper something in his ear. But the young man just waved his hand dismissively, as if to reassure him. Then he noticed me staring at him from across the way. He looked us up and down curiously, and when a bottle of red wine arrived, he raised his glass in my direction, flashing a brilliant smile.

  "Madam, I think you also heard the dishes they called. As the host here, how much do those dishes cost?" I asked softly, putting down my wine cup.

  "Over 900 solari." Windy glanced at the dishes on that side, she furrowed her brow, "The wine is top-grade imported Burgundy, and many of the dishes ordered have expensive spices added. Hopefully they brought enough aureli, because I don't see a pouch big enough to hold that much silver."

  "I smiled and suggested: 'Shall we play another game?'"

  "We've only just met and we've already played two games." Wendell chuckled softly, looking at him as if he were a child who refused to grow up. "What do you want to play next?"

  I couldn't take her expression: "I dare say, those two people at the table opposite us absolutely can't afford to pay for this meal."

  "Wendell said upon hearing this: 'Do you want me to go find a law enforcement officer?'"

  "No, if I win, they won't have to pay for their meals, how about that?"

  "What if you lose?"

  "I said indifferently: 'I'll pay for their meals.'"

  "Okay, but on one condition: those four Germans have to be handed over to me for punishment. I want them to wash dishes and clean the floor here to compensate for my losses." The beautiful woman batted her eyelashes again.

  "Deal."

  The time it takes to eat a meal, not long or short, just as I was chatting with Wendy about the weather being nice today, there was a sudden loud noise from across the way, followed by a big shout.

  "Come quickly! Someone is eating without paying! Oh no!!"

  "Someone's getting beaten up! Something's happened!"

  "Seize them, don't let them get away!"

  By the time I turned my head to look, the two people eating at the dinner table had already escaped, and the four German uncles were fighting with eight waiters in the restaurant. One of them even tripped up two waiters and rolled down the stairs.

  The fight was naturally handled by the security officer. I left my wife and left the restaurant, got on the carriage, at this time two people holding horses walked out of the small alley beside the car, they were those two German youths. The blond guy leaned against the window frame, his eyes scanning around constantly, while the other looked at me uneasily, alerting all around, fearing that their two guards would suddenly descend from the sky if they weren't careful.

  "Excuse me, may we get on your carriage and take a seat?"

  I looked around and thought that there was no big deal, so I let the attendants on both sides open the carriage door. The blond young man and the brown-haired young man handed their horses over to the attendants and got in. I took a closer look at the blond young man's skin, which was tender and delicate, not like a man's. The carriage started slowly, stopping from time to time to avoid the crowds that had surged again after lunch.

  "Where are you going?" I looked at the two strangers in the carriage, and they were also looking at me.

  Two Germans, their clothes looked simple but the fabric was high-quality silk, and the small decorations they carried with them, such as brooches and buttons, were either inlaid with fine gemstones or made of gold. The blonde one, upon closer inspection, was no longer at the level of a pretty boy, but had entered the realm of being a "beautiful young man", to the point where he could be dressed up as a woman and passed off as a lady. The male one looked quite good too, a fairly masculine handsome guy.

  Two brothers? Doesn't seem like it.

  Two gay men running away from home? A bit like?

  Perhaps... a beautifully sad classical love story from China emerged in my mind, and I had a rough idea in my heart.

  "Let's get off after a few blocks, I don't want to be caught by our guards." The blond young man looked around the car's interior and decorations, his eyes full of admiration, "Your car is really nice."

  I said a thank you and some other meaningless words, then gave them the address outside, before asking: "This is no problem, but may I be so bold as to ask why you are doing this in the restaurant? The female owner of that restaurant happens to be my friend."

  "Alright, my question isn't too complicated, but it's not simple either." The blond young man lowered his head in distress and scratched his hair, then raised his eyes again and said, "I love art!"

  "I adore art, I love music, and I yearn for Constantinople! Of course, I also yearn for adventure! How can a young person like me grow old without having their own adventures and legends? Isn't that right? The problem is, my family doesn't understand or support my ideas. So Hans and I ran away! To find our own legend, here, let me introduce myself: I'm Friedrich, the heir of a German noble family, and this is my companion, Hans, who's also the son of a German lord." The blond young man continued with enthusiasm, "As I was saying, we ran away. We planned for half a year to find an opportunity to escape from that stifling place in my hometown, and finally made it to Constantinople. But unfortunately, just a few days after arriving in Constantinople, the people sent by my father found me through German merchants here."

  Another art lover, and a German at that. Many people come to Constantinople every year for tourism, even more artists, and because of coming to Constantinople, many have lost their fortunes. This is not my exaggeration, nor am I being alarmist, this is the fact. Everyone knows what kind of place Germany is, where the flags on the city walls are constantly changing, if you're not careful, your own home will be taken away, and those German nobles just love to come to Constantinople and Rome for sightseeing.

  In their own words, they breathed the air Caesar had once breathed and kissed every patch of land Augustus had trod. However, the old scoundrel used to be utterly disgusted by this sort of medieval pilgrimage-like behavior, "A bunch of sex-obsessed morons, who doesn't know that we have the largest and best brothels in all of Europe right here in Constantinople."