Chasing Time

“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)

The Shadow of Great Britain

On the deck of HMS Conqueror, two deep red velvet armchairs and a small round table were arranged.


Arthur picked up the white porcelain teacup from the table and gently sipped it. He gazed at the gradually setting sun on the horizon and the golden sea surface, feeling the gentle summer breeze, and sensed that his tightly wound nerves had finally relaxed.


Sitting beside him was an old man with a furrowed brow, silver-white wig, and dressed in the uniform of a high-ranking officer of the Royal Navy. This was none other than the highest commander of the entire Channel Fleet—General Edward Codrington.


Arthur had imagined he would meet a burly and rough man, but in reality, Codrington was a man with an oval face, willow-leaf eyebrows, a hooked nose, and slender eyes.


Were it not for his naval uniform, the melancholic aura emanating from Codrington's entire being might have made him appear more like an artist with a brush than a military man.


Chapter 75: The Fleet Commander's Strange Invitation