The Shadow of Great Britain

160: Chapter 115: The King’s Speech (Combined Part 2)_3 160: Chapter 115: The King’s Speech (Combined Part 2)_3 The sound of glass shattering, accompanied by cries of fear and anger, broke the already fragile and delicately balanced environment.

A policeman was pushed to the ground, and instantly four or five workers surrounded him and began to punch and kick him, while the enraged policemen, after enduring it for a while, finally couldn’t hold back and started to pull out their Civilization Canes to strike back.

Before long, people in both the crowd of demonstrators and the group of policemen had bloodied heads, their blood staining the workers’ overalls and the policemen’s blue tailcoats, as well as the gray water marks on the ground, which were indistinguishable as either clean or dirty.

A few inspectors spat on the ground and pulled out their Civilization Canes, intending to use them as Commander’s Batons.

They glanced at the Scotland Yard officers who were already equipped with shields and had formed a square formation, and several inspectors cursed with a smirk.

“Damn, this feels even more exhilarating than war.

Inspector Hastings really knows how to boost morale.”

“After all, they’re both named Arthur, so he must possess some of Duke Wellington’s aura, right?”

“Shields and command staffs, it’s a bit like medieval times.”

“Enough talk, are we going in?”

The inspectors looked at each other, then turned in unison, and saluted Arthur in the pouring rain, “London Metropolitan Police, all districts, all divisions, all forces have been fully assembled, Commander, please give your orders!”

Arthur took a deep breath as he looked at the crowd in the distance, his neck veins bulging, his voice piercing every eardrum and every pane of glass on the scene.

“Upon my command!

All district squads, advance at a trot in a diagonal formation, charge the demonstration, compress the crowd!

Anyone using violence is to be detained, and free use of Civilization Canes, shields, and other weapons is authorized!”

At Arthur’s command, the whistles of the London Metropolitan Police inspectors immediately replaced the sound of thunder as the most piercing noise on the scene.

“Follow the whistle steps, run forward with small strides!”

Whistle, whistle, whistle…

Under the command of the inspectors, the police formation awkwardly moved forward, holding their flat shields, shoulder rubbing with shoulder, initially unaccustomed, but after a brief adjustment, they soon took shattered, uniform strides.

At first, the whistle was slow, but as they gradually approached the crowd of demonstrators, the inspectors’ whistles suddenly became shrill and rapid.

Whistle whistle whistle!!!

“Charge!!!”

With the inspectors’ howling, the police formation struck the crowd of demonstrators like a swinging brick.

The unprepared and unorganized workers stumbled as those in the front tried to retreat while those in the back were still unaware of what was happening.

They were all squeezed together, like in a sandwich.

But soon, a terrified shout of ‘the police are coming’ quickly spread panic and chaos through the ranks of demonstrators.

With the sound of Civilization Canes whipping their heads, some workers attempted to flee while others tried to resist.

In Arthur’s view, all he saw was a man with a bloodied face from being struck, wearing short sleeves, pointing at him from a distance.

Just as Arthur caught a glimpse of him, Agares, perched atop the head of the Wellington statue, also spotted the man.

The Red Devil’s eyebrows twitched, he smirked and snapped his fingers, amplifying the man’s voice right next to Arthur’s ear.

Arthur started, but no one knew what he had heard; they only saw Arthur fumble in his pocket for something.

His throat was dry and itchy, desperately wanting a smoke, but after searching for a while, he suddenly remembered that what he had put there had already been given to Tony.

Those around him might have thought he was startled by the thunder and lightning, while Londoners peering out of their windows thought he was amazed by the bloody, violent scene.

After the moment of distraction, people just saw the young inspector from Scotland Yard stand there silently, beneath the Wellington statue, like a disregarded shadow.

Arthur raised his hand to wipe his rain-drenched face; he made no expression, unsure of what expression he ought to make.

He simply couldn’t forget the sound of the desperate roar of the man with blood on his face before he fell to the ground.

It was like an admonishment from the soul, or a scream from hell.

——Fuck you, you traitor to the working class!

Agares gently turned the pages of the parchment in his hand, slowly pushing up his glasses.

The Devil hummed with a smile, “Arthur…

perhaps you are right, this is the destiny of becoming a king.

The struggle, the pain, isn’t it all brought on by yourself?”