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

At night, West London, Bayswater, Lancaster Gate, No. 36.


The pathway beside Hyde Park was deserted, usually by this time, Arthur and the others had finished dinner and returned to their rooms for rest, but today the restaurant chairs were packed with young people of varied heights and builds from both sides of the English Channel.


The Red Devil sat swinging on a chandelier, legs crossed, looking from near to far.


Sitting to the right of the dining table were three Charleses, they were the utterly baffled Charles Darwin, the visibly uneasy Charles Wheatstone, and Charles Dickens, who was carrying a dark green canvas bag.


Equally imposing were those seated on the left side of the table, the newly rejected Avengers Alliance, vowing vengeance: the Frenchman Alexander Dumas, furiously scolding the British for their ignorance, the baffled Cambridge student Alfred Tennyson, and the outlandish Mr. Eld Carter, who seemed entirely misplaced in this setting.


Chapter 163: Media Empire and the Bare Pole Commander (5K)