"Percy, can you tell what on earth happened? What's wrong with my cousin?"
Percy's expression stirred a ripple in Little Jero's previously calm heart. His smiling face gradually turned into a solemn expression, and his lowered hands unconsciously rubbed his tan leather trousers, while his mind kept pondering the "information" from his past life.
Forgot to ntion, in his previous life, Little Jero was an avid European history enthusiast, proficient in post-Great Revolution history. He had no idea which deity he had offended while reading a historical docunt nad "Napoleon III," and was then forced to travel through ti.
During these four months, Little Jero dared not make a single misstep, fearing that a flutter of his butterfly wings might blow away his cousin's imperial throne, creating a laughingstock for all to see.
As long as his cousin beca the Emperor of the Empire, he could secure himself a position as a Prince with real power.
As for losing the throne in the future Franco-Prussian War? Little Jero absolutely would not let that happen.
"No, at this point in ti, my cousin shouldn't be in trouble!"
Little Jero "clearly" "rembered" from the information of his past life: his cousin returned to Paris in April, was expelled, and ca back again in July to run for President.
In the historical tiline, Louis Bonaparte smoothly ascended to the presidency.
Unexpectedly, despite all precautions, his butterfly wings still caused a ripple from Paris to London.
"Your Majesty, he..." Percy sighed, speaking hesitantly, "He contracted cholera, I'm afraid..."
The two words "cholera" struck Jero's heart like two heavy hamrs, an indescribable void surged into his heart, followed by a brief palpitating fear.
This sensation caused Jero's body to lean back slightly as if his knees were drained of strength, nearly causing him to fall to the ground.
Fortunately, Fleury's quick reflexes kept Jero from embarrassnt.
With Fleury's support, Jero roared word by word: "Mr. Percy! You promised you'd take good care of him. What the hell is going on? How did my cousin contract cholera?"
In the 19th century, an era devoid of antibiotics, of penicillin, and during the period of transformation from chaotic to systematic dicine, cholera was the most common and deadly disease. Whether you were royalty or an ordinary citizen, contracting cholera might not result in death, but it would strip you of a layer of skin.
Feeling Jero's anger, Percy cautiously responded, "Your Majesty, he might have contracted it while acting as a volunteer vigilante in Britain! Recently, that strange disease was rampant in Britain!" [Note 1]
"A volunteer vigilante? A leader of the Bonaparte Clan, a Prince acting as a vigilante?" Jero laughed out of anger and pointed at Percy, scolding him, "What are you doing? Aunt Odense, Father, Sister, and the entire House of Bonaparte entrusted the 'Leader' of the Bonaparte to you, and you've done nothing! If it weren't for you coaxing him, he wouldn't have taken this path..."
The resentnt buried deep in his soul poured out through Jero's mouth, and Percy could only nod in acquiescence, admitting that he didn't fulfill his duties as a subordinate.
After a round of vehent scolding, Jero asked again, "Where is my cousin now?"
"Saint Jas King Street, being cared for by Miss Howard!" Quickly responding after being scolded by Jero, Percy, now worn out, replied.
"Why didn't you take..."
About to scold Percy for not taking his cousin to a hospital, Jero suddenly rembered.
In the 19th century, an era where dical facilities were still developing, public hospitals and even so private hospitals had worse conditions than at ho. Most public hospital doctors were part-tirs, and many doctors still used their clumsy redies to earn small fees without a dical profession examination.
Surgery tables swarming with flies, grease-stained gauze, and unsterilized scalpels—it seed every bit a challenge from God to the gentlen of the 19th century.
Compared to the dirty hospitals, staying ho was actually a better choice.
Of course, this only applied to the wealthy; the impoverished workers had to rely on the lousy doctors from the street Charitable Hospital for treatnt.
Jero Bonaparte shouted to Percy and Fleury, "Let's go now!"
Under Fleury's guidance, Jero Bonaparte ca to a deep black carriage, which bore a conspicuous Bonaparte insignia on its side panel.
This carriage was evidently not rented temporarily; it was used regularly by his cousin for social interactions.
A good carriage would cost about 2400 francs, and with feed and other miscellaneous expenses, about 4000 francs per year.
Jero reasoned that his cousin probably took on new debt to pay off old ones, using his father's inheritance as collateral.
Jero opened the carriage door and climbed into the compartnt, followed closely by Percy, while Fleury sat in the coachman's seat, one hand holding the reins and the other wielding the whip.
"Hold on!" The carriage began moving under Fleury's skilled guidance.
...
In the carriage, Jero closed his eyes, considering his next steps.
Sitting across from Jero, Percy anxiously glanced around, occasionally casting a look at Jero.
Under Fleury's driving, the carriage darted left and right, quickly leaving the East London Slum behind, crossing Waterloo Bridge, and continuing forward. The boundary line between "two worlds," Shaftesbury Avenue / St. Martin's Church, was just ahead.
Behind the carriage were low, dilapidated three-story buildings, while in front were rows of tightly-packed small apartnts.
Looking to the left towards St. Martin's Church, you could even see the spire of Buckingham Palace rising above.
A church and an iron bridge divided poverty from wealth.
After entering Shafburitz Street, the police presence noticeably increased, with patrolling volunteer police officers wearing shabby uniforms and holding revolvers every few ters along the street.
Even the shops beca clean and tidy, and the noise of the slum also disappeared.
Well-dressed gentlen nodded at each other in greeting.
Fleury slowed the carriage to avoid any accidents involving pedestrians, making his way through the cross street of Shafburitz Street, and finally stopping at a small mansion at the end of Saint Jas King Street.
"Your Highness, we've arrived!" Percy's voice reached Jero's ears.
Jero slowly opened his eyes.
PS:1. Louis Bonaparte, after escaping from Strasbourg and heading to London, volunteered as a self-supporting vigilante in the London Region, and even suppressed the April Chartist labor movent in Britain.
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