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The Shadow of Great Britain

“Next, we have the most noble recipient of the Order of the Garter, the Grand Cross of Saint Michael and Saint George, the Grand Cross of the Bath, the Victoria Cross and the lower grades of Knighthood, the leader of the anti-colonial movement, the bell-ringer of the East India Company, the hero of the Crimean War, a Fellow of the Royal Society, a lifelong dear friend of literary giants such as Dickens and Great Dumas, a steadfast supporter of scientific luminaries like Faraday and Darwin, having served as assistant under-secretary, deputy under-secretary, and permanent under-secretary in departments of the Home Office and the Navy Department of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland, the inaugural Cabinet Secretary and head of the civil service, the first graduate and most distinguished alumnus of our school. Please welcome Sir Arthur Hastings to deliver a speech on the occasion of the fiftieth anniversary of the founding of the University of London.” Arthur's gaze swept across the crowd before him, looking at the young faces and murmured, “Agares, what do you think I should say?” The Red Devil's wraith hovered behind him, saliva almost dribbling from the corner of his mouth, “Look at these ignorant souls; they still worship you as a hero. Why not say something they'd like to hear?” Arthur took a deep breath and let out a deafening roar, “Oxford is a bunch of whores' bastards!” “Oh!!!!” The audience erupted into thunderous applause. “Cambridge is the same!” he added immediately. The applause grew even more fervent... (The protagonist, possessed by a devil, travels through 19th-century Britain in a world without magic)

Chasing Time · Fantasía
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351 Chs

Chapter 180 Russian Maid

Friday was supposed to be Arthur's workday, but since he had relinquished specific jurisdictional powers over the police district, he could allocate all of today's working hours to himself instead of sitting idly in the office at 4 Whitehall.

However, although the workload today was significantly lighter than what Arthur was accustomed to, he wasn't completely slacking off.

In an inconspicuous street corner cafe in West London, Arthur was holding a cup of tea, surveying with his sharp black eyes the woman sitting across from him, the newly risen queen of Tower Hamlets, Miss Fiona Ivan.

At that moment, Arthur found the seemingly fragile, but fiery-tempered blonde, with her chin slightly tucked, head down, eyes flickering uncertainly, and hands placed on her knees, daring not to move, amusingly awkward as if she had done something wrong.