The Shadow of Great Britain

337: 209 337: 209 Agares, upon hearing this, immediately burst into rage, as though someone had stepped on his tail: “Arthur!

We are discussing philosophical issues right now!”

Arthur, seeing his demeanor, also had a rough idea, he comforted him by saying, “However, your existence is not entirely useless, at the very least you have proven one thing—the Bible isn’t just nonsense.

On that note, worshiping Hegel’s national church isn’t as good as worshiping you—the stories in the Bible are quite interesting, but that’s about it.”

The Red Devil glared with wide eyes, his nostrils spewed sparks for quite a while before he calmed his anger and raised another issue: “Arthur, I’ll explain the matters of Heaven and Hell to you some other time.

But first you have to tell me, is there something you dislike about what the Deutsch prefer to worship?

In Britain, you are no more than a king, but over there, you could be God!”

Arthur, upon hearing this, simply took a sip of his tea and said, “Agares, don’t give me any bad ideas, I’m afraid I wouldn’t be able to become something like God if I went to Germany.

I worry I’d rather be nailed to a cross in Berlin, and although the uniforms from Scotland Yard are of decent quality, being displayed in a museum as a Holy Relic is a bit much.”

Agares, hearing this, merely shook his head slightly, before asking again, “Then let’s return to the topic of Hegel for now.”

Arthur replied, “There’s nothing much to discuss about Mister Hegel’s theory anymore.

If he is right, and the state is rational, then what do I make of this recording before me?”

Agares couldn’t help but spread his mouth wide, revealing row upon row of sharp little white teeth as he laughed heartily.

He snapped his fingers, conjured a doctoral cap, and placed it on Arthur’s head, almost as if he wished he could hug his head and plant two kisses on it.

“Oh!

My dear Arthur!

Professor Agares must congratulate you, you young rascal have finally graduated!

You’ve finally understood what it’s all about.

Those guys are nothing special, everyone is merely scrabbling for food in this trough.

MPs, the Cabinet, the Prime Minister, they are all just feeding themselves.

If they haven’t gotten a piece of yours, it merely means their claws aren’t long enough yet.

Since everyone is eating, why don’t you take a bite as well?”

Arthur, with one hand on his chin, said, “Because doing things in Britain still requires some standards.

These are matters of the two parties, they have nothing to do with Scotland Yard, nor should they be associated.

Such a political balance is hard-earned, breaking it would be bad for everyone.

Britain is not like Russia, it’s not fashionable here to use stroke as a cover for death.

As the Greeks often say, remember Daedalus’s lesson, avoid the fate of Icarus.”

“I have no interest in experimenting here.

Moreover, I haven’t forgotten the lessons Mr.

Talleyrand gave me.

Barbarism is just two steps away from civilization, lurking around it.

If let loose, it will come back.

Since there are civilized ways to solve problems, why would I act like a barbarian?”

“In the end, most who engage in intelligence work do not meet good ends.

If I start using improper intelligence to strike at the opposition now, how will the Police Intelligence Department stand in the future?

The Whig Party certainly won’t be pleased for gaining advantage in such a place, on the contrary, if they are to step down one day, they will surely dissolve our little organization first.

Agares, as an erudite Devil, you surely understand my meaning.”

Agares couldn’t help but applaud Arthur upon hearing these words.

“Clever, calm, and even starting to understand worldliness.

Arthur, you little rogue, you’re really becoming something.

My expectations for you were not misplaced.

However, have you considered that there might be other ways to solve the problem?

You should know, every math problem has many solutions, different reasoning processes will naturally vary in difficulty.

The method, the method is the key to work, those who only toil away are merely blind donkeys.

Arthur, I believe you certainly have the ability to seize the right moment and the artistry to demonstrate success.

Or, you could offer up a bit of your insignificant soul.”

Arthur, hearing this, was about to engage Agares in further conversation, but this time the Red Devil, whether previously angered or become shrewder, had disappeared.

No sooner had the words been spoken than he turned into a wisp of faint dust and was gone with the wind.

Arthur looked up to see a thick layer of dust on the windowsill, where a line was written—Taking the next two days off, extra charge of two souls for overtime service.

Arthur simply took out his pocket watch and glanced at it: “Half-past five in the afternoon, that’s considered leaving early, isn’t it?

Devils and their freelance lifestyle, indeed live whimsically.”

No sooner had he finished speaking, there was a knock at the door outside.

Arthur got up, opened the door, and without thinking, said, “Alexander…”

But before he could finish, he frowned: “Hmm?”

No wonder Arthur was puzzled, for standing outside was not the recent France-loving chubby gourmand who’s been addicted to reviewing London’s restaurants, nor was it the suspect in wanton defacement for posting personals ads all over, but a captivating lady holding a dainty parasol.

Fiona folded her parasol and handed it to the lad behind her, then with a slight lift of her skirt, curtsied and said, “Mr.

Hastings, why do you look so disappointed?

That truly saddens me.

Don’t I look a bit more pleasing to the eye than that French fatso?”