Chapter 433

There is seldom a sunny day in England in April.

It's sunny today. Everything sprouts. In the lush grassland of Windsor Castle in Berkshire, George III sat under his parasol and watched his favorite son Frederick gallop on a horse in the distance.

"Sophie, as like as two peas in the middle of the world, Frederic, who is growing up, is just like me when I was young, but I must have missed him."

Queen Charlotte glanced at her husband angrily and continued to lower her head to pat Princess Amelia's milk burp, carefully and gently.

"It should be, my respected majesty."

Her English has a strong German accent, hard, crisp and a little vague.

"You are not old, he has grown up. You insist on riding for hunting, but he is a real soldier."

"He is already a major of the army, followed by a lieutenant colonel and a colonel. He will soon become an excellent general."

"A fine horse is a good companion for a general. If my child is no better than a fat amateur hunter in equestrian skills, how can I safely let him set foot on the battlefield as a mother?"

"Getting fat is inevitable..."

The good tempered George III subconsciously touched his bulging belly, glanced awkwardly at the guests around him, and knowingly decided to change the topic without any argument.

He picked up a document from the table and handed it to Queen Charlotte: "Sophie, come and see this."

"What is this?"

The queen saw the bright stamp on the top of the document, which symbolized the level of confidentiality, and her outstretched hand immediately retracted.

"Although I'm curious, your majesty, good women shouldn't participate in politics. I'm going to teach Amelia this."

"Amelia is only a year and a half..."

"She is the daughter of the most noble person in the world. She should learn earlier than ordinary women."

"OK." George III shrugged indifferently. "My wife is adhering to the right, and I have no reason to object. But this document from Africa is not all politics. At least in nature, it has a closer relationship with the royal family than the state."

"From Africa... Mr. Vero Baker?"

George III laughed.

He winked at the guests around him: "look, Drake Qing, I said the queen wouldn't read the confidential documents, and even if she didn't, she could easily guess the contents."

"God bless England."

Shack put down his tea cup, took a gold pound from his arms without expression, handed it to George III, and said compliments in a steady voice.

"For England's wise highness, I am willing to admit defeat."

Queen Charlotte could see the clouds and mist: "Your Majesty, what are you and dreckqing?"

"A good little bet for the body and mind." George III shouted and blew the gold pound, listening to the unique sound of precious metal with satisfaction, "Drake Qing, briefly talk to the queen about the contents of the document."

"Yes, your majesty." Shaq cleared his throat and sat down, "Manager Vero Baker of the Royal African company reported to Buckingham Palace and copied to the Ministry of the Navy. On March 25, 1785, the Anglo Malaysian friendly trade agreement was concluded through seven rounds of negotiations. On March 28, the two sides officially signed in Muscat, the capital of the Sultanate of Muscat. Major general Cornwallis, deputy commander of the Royal African fleet, and manager Baker signed the original on behalf of Great Britain and the royal family respectively There are two. "

"First, Great Britain assisted the Sultanate in building two wharfs, Suhar and Matra, and presided over tax, customs, judicial and defense matters for the next 68 years."

"From now on, the two wharf areas pass British law, and the British gentlemen form a parade court. The customs and tax departments are presided over by the United Kingdom. The garrison of the wharf shall not be more than 154 ships, and 480 people from four companies of the Marine Corps. The garrison military expenses and wharf construction expenses are deducted from customs duties, and the maximum deduction shall not be more than 50% per year."

"2. Great Britain leases mahila island in the Sultanate for a term of 99 years, with an annual rent of ￡ 12 per square mile, calculated at ￡ 3000, and Great Britain has the right to an unconditional renewal for a term of 99 years."

Queen Charlotte opened her mouth in surprise: "Muscat Sultanate, that's..."

"That's a country that was only established by the omanians in West Asia last year, Sophie. Their land area is about twice that of the three British Islands, perhaps larger." George III added, "and you know, the omanians have excellent navigation skills, and the Sudan has the most powerful navy and the best supervisors in the Arab world... At least once."

"What about now?"

"Now the commander is still there, but there is no fleet for him to command."

Amazing news.

Queen Charlotte blinked a few times: "Your Majesty, I will not doubt the authenticity of this document. But have you ever thought about how Mr. Baker could send the document to England in more than ten days if it was really a country established by Oman?"

"It's no surprise that he borrowed the communication channel of Drake chamber of Commerce." George III smiled strangely, "from Muscat to the Red Sea, ashore in Egypt, then cross the Mediterranean from Alexandria to Toulon, then cross France, and send letters to Plymouth through the Strait. The whole journey will take no more than ten days."

"I seem to have heard a strange top chaebol." the queen whispered, "Your Majesty, do you say the name of the chamber of commerce is Drake?"

George III glanced at Shaq inexplicably, and Shaq immediately sat down: "it has nothing to do with Tavistock, your majesty."

"I know that neither war nor chamber of Commerce has anything to do with Baron Tavistock's house..." George III shook his head and turned over another document on the table. "Drake Qing, your brother is very capable."

Shack pursed his mouth and didn't speak. Queen Charlotte's eyes swam around between the monarchs and ministers, and suddenly smelled a strong smell called "gossip".

"I want to know, your majesty," she said with a smile.

George III sorted out the words in his mind: "Sophie, do you remember that little follower of Elia? Sixteen years ago, we went to Westminster to baptize Sophia..."

"It's the Drake's little stubborn pagan!" Queen Charlotte said excitedly. "I remember his name... Lorraine, Lorraine Drake! I clearly remember that little guy. He's a natural star."

The feeling of doubt turned to Shaq this time: "sorry, your highness, in my impression, you and your majesty never seem to have met my pagan brother..."

"Yes, although it's not formal," said George III with a smile. "Sixteen years ago, Princess Sofia was born. We took her to Westminster Abbey and asked Archbishop Burwick to baptize her. It was a light rain that day. When we arrived, the archbishop was wrestling with a child in the backyard."

"Scuffle?!" shack's eyes widened.

"It's an unforgettable scene, isn't it?" the queen laughed. "Your father was summoned by your majesty to witness Sophia's baptism. Although your brother is a pagan, he doesn't want to know how the baby chooses his faith, so he came with him."

"As a result, your brother overturned the holy water prepared by the Archbishop for Sofia and poured the whole basin on himself. The Archbishop thought it was God's will and decided to break his oath and become your brother's godfather, but your brother didn't want to."

"I have never seen a dignified and tolerant Archbishop holding a child's ear to force him to change his letter, nor have I seen any child dare to pull the Archbishop's red coat and wipe his nose... But your majesty is right. They really wrestled together and fought fiercely at that time."

Shaq's lips trembled a little: "how... How did it happen?"

"It's a pity that your majesty and I still don't know how things got to this point." Queen Charlotte was really sorry. She sighed. "The two parties, your father and the archbishop, were silent about the process of the matter. Your brother was a little clever. When we appeared, he broke free from the archbishop and ran over the wall."