Chapter 65: First Stop: Britain

Hello everyone, how was your day? Hope it went decent. Now I'm writing this to ask you guys something. So, would you like if I post images or art of this and my upcoming fanfic, basically making these words become visual?

You know I have been writing side stories for this fanfic, and I will continue to do so for my other fic, translated as well as original. YES, ORIGINAL I have some ideas that I want to try for a fanfic, and I want to bring them to life.

So, back to imagining how the images would be, well, they will be from the POV of me, the editor in this fan fic universe blogging various and side stories, meeting people, going to different wonderful places, and just doing goofy stuff.

So, cmon tell me, would you prefer it or not? Of course, I will be using AI because I currently don't know how to draw. Until then, AI would have to do it .

To get a better idea of what I am proposing, check the given images in the comment section of this paragraph.

So, is it yes or no, or can you comment on your ideas, might as well use them for my upcoming original fan-fic?

[YES]

[NO]

[MY IDEA]

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Chapter 65: First Stop: Britain

The luxurious ship hissed steam as it pulled into Southampton, its hull crusted with salt. George stood on the upper deck, one hand gripping the rail as he watched the cranes swinging into place. After twenty days of slow but steady passage, they had finally arrived in Britain.

Wearing a dark overcoat, gloves, and worn leather boots polished for the occasion, George stepped off the gangway with his entourage close behind.

At the port, representatives from the Anglo-American Oil Company were already waiting. Rockefeller's European subsidiaries bore localized names—Franco-American Oil Company in France, German-American Oil Company in Germany, and others. It was rare at the time for an American enterprise to establish such a widespread European presence.

Becca, their guide in a practical grey coat and sturdy boots, extended a gloved hand. "Train tickets are ready, Mr. Orwell. We've also arranged some discretion—Oxford prefers its visitors not to arrive with headlines."

"Thank you," George nodded, appreciating the subtle professionalism.

He glanced back at the bustling port before signaling for Professor Osborn and the others to follow him to the waiting cars bound for the train station.

The train ride was smooth and uneventful. George stared out the window as hedgerows blurred past. The British countryside was far older than anything back home. Older than the whole country, in a sense. Stone walls, mossy and uneven, crisscrossed fields like spiderwebs of history.

George did not plan to accompany Osborn and the delegation for the entirety of their European tour. The group's itinerary included academic exchanges at Oxford University for one week, followed by another week at Cambridge University, then onward to France's University of Montpellier. The final stop would be Switzerland, where they would participate in the annual international science summit. Notably, the itinerary excluded Germany and other nations defeated in World War I, likely due to strained relations and limited academic collaboration.

Oxford, famed for its scholarly heritage and historical architecture, was a dream destination for many. Founded in the 9th century, the city had over a millennium of history and served as the cradle of British royalty and academia. Oxford University itself, though its precise founding date is uncertain, rose to prominence in the 12th century when scholars from Paris migrated there amid conflict. By the mid-13th century, numerous colleges had been established, laying the foundation for its academic brilliance.

Upon arriving in Oxford, the group checked into the Old Bank Hotel, located in the heart of the historic city. Becca explained that the hotel featured luxurious rooms with marble bathrooms and was ranked fourth among Britain's best hotels, deemed the most worthwhile lodging in Oxford by The Times. George was very pleased with the accommodations and Becca's thoughtful arrangements.

Although MIT had originally intended to sponsor the trip, George chose to cover the expenses himself due to the size of his delegation. The university had no objections. Moreover, considering the immense benefits he would gain from the Penicillin project, George pledged to donate five million U.S. dollars annually to MIT for scholarships supporting students from disadvantaged backgrounds. He saw it as a powerful form of long-term investment—not just in goodwill or prestige, but in future talent. Over time, it would change hundreds, if not thousands, of lives.

After two days of rest and sightseeing in Oxford—including a dinner at a 300-year-old inn where Shakespeare was rumored to have stayed—the group participated in a seminar hosted by the Medical Sciences Division of Oxford University. George, as the primary researcher behind the Penicillin breakthrough, delivered the opening speech.

George only attended the seminar on the first day. On the second day, he led his group away from Oxford. Becca remained behind with a clerk to accompany and assist Osborn's team, while she traveled onward with George.

Their next destination was Edinburgh. Upon arrival, George paid respects to his maternal grandmother, whom he had never met, and visited the Swinton Family Mansion under the guidance of the old butler, Fred Rodinson.

Fred introduced himself as a fifth-generation servant of the Swinton Family, emphasizing his family's long-standing loyalty. He also recounted the story of George's maternal grandfather—a visiting student from an aristocratic family abroad—who had met George's grandmother during his studies and remained in Britain until his death, never returning home despite years of correspondence.

George accepted these stories as part of the past. In the mansion, he saw family portraits of his mother, grandmother, and maternal relatives from her youth. He also saw a room preserved for his mother, indicating that despite their estrangement, his grandmother's love for her daughter had remained.

The room was dusted, untouched. A desk still had a half-finished letter written in neat cursive. Fred said the Countess had refused to let anyone move it.

George didn't believe in ghosts. But in that room, it felt like someone had been waiting.

By the old Countess's will, George had inherited the mansion. The legal ownership would be finalized upon payment of inheritance taxes, which George promptly arranged. That same day, with Fred's assistance, the necessary procedures were completed.

The following day, George received a formal dinner invitation from the Barton Family, another prominent noble household in Edinburgh. According to Fred, the Bartons were a hereditary Duke family with even higher noble rank than the Swintons. George's mother had once been betrothed to a member of the Barton Family, which piqued George's curiosity about the invitation.

Fred's expression tightened. "The Bartons never invite without reason, sir. Whatever they want, I doubt it's just dinner."

Out of respect—and curiosity—George accepted the invitation.

To ensure he met the expectations of aristocratic decorum, George spent the day studying noble etiquette under Fred's tutelage. Thanks to his remarkable memory and physical control, he mastered the essentials in just one morning.

That evening, dressed formally and accompanied by Fred, George departed for the Barton Family's castle.

Fred's only complaint was George's choice of clothing—not because it was unfashionable or informal, but because it lacked a custom family crest and the craftsmanship of the Swinton Family's traditional tailor.

George didn't wear a family crest. He wasn't interested in pretending to be part of their game. He had real power—and it didn't need embroidery.

He also had pragmatic concerns. Without inheriting the Swinton Family's title, it was unlikely that the British Royal Family would grant him land or noble status. Even before arriving, George had doubted whether he could inherit the estate at all. If British law prohibited foreigners from inheriting land, it would significantly impact his plans.

Fortunately, George had mentally prepared for the possibility of losing the land.