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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 · Fantasia
Classificações insuficientes
351 Chs

Chapter 140 The Little Devil from Scotland

Tower Hamlets, Whitechapel Parish, 25 Brick Lane, Martin's Tavern.

Although Martin's Tavern had been open for just over a month, its reasonably priced fare and Mr. Martin's favorable relations with both Brayden Jones, the sergeant of the Whitechapel area, and Miss Fiona Ivan meant that the local ruffians dared not leave their tabs unpaid, let alone cause trouble.

Thus, even as a newly opened tavern, it did not prevent Martin's Tavern from turning a profit last month.

At dusk, the small tavern gradually lit up with oil lamps, and in the flickering light, sailors reeking of sweat, bricklayers, and even pickpockets who had just made a big score, all flocked here.

In the crowded, noisy environment, the patrons drank watered-down beer as they exchanged toasts, played cards, tossed dice, and bet on odds and evens, scattering all kinds of coins across the tables.

Near the bar, a gentleman in a wide-brimmed hat and an overcoat was holding a pipe and chatting with Mr. Martin.