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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 · แฟนตาซี
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245 Chs

Chapter 31 The Absolutely Neutral Agent of Chaos

Dickens was startled by Arthur's outburst of emotion.

But this was not a sudden whim of Arthur's; he had been in this world for nearly fifteen years.

In those fifteen years, he had walked the country lanes of Yorkshire, studied at the godless academy on Gower Street in London, passed through the bustling Royal Opera House, and ventured into the darkest, lightless corners of the East End of London.

In York, he had seen the luxurious manors of the Nobility, and gazed at the majestic York Minster, which began construction in the year 627.

But he had also seen farmers in soggy wheat fields during the rainy season, wearing shoes with toes sticking out, braving the downpour to rush the harvest just to secure the last bit of their meager income.

In the family workshops, the spinning wheels operated with a constant creaking noise, yet the most skilled woman could produce only half a meter of cloth in a day.