The Shadow of Great Britain

395: Chapter 231: The Editorial Department’s Story (6K) 395: Chapter 231: The Editorial Department’s Story (6K) As the heart of London’s news publishing industry for centuries, Fleet Street has always been the holy land in the hearts of British journalists.

And today, this sacred place has welcomed a new guest—the head office of “The Briton” magazine.

Having rapidly ascended to the ranks of London’s popular magazines in recent years, “The Briton,” after such a long time operating like a makeshift camp, has finally decided to move its headquarters from the residences of Mr.

Disraeli and Mr.

Hasting at Lancaster Gate.

It has taken the step to enter a new track of formal office work.

Mr.

Disraeli, who is tirelessly striving towards his goal of becoming Prime Minister, also announced that he would officially resign as the editor-in-chief of “The Briton” today.

He will divide the position into two roles: editor-in-chief of fashion literature and editor-in-chief of romantic literature.

The successor to the editor-in-chief of fashion literature is none other than Mr.

Alexander Dumas, who looks quite unwilling.

Arthur leaned back in the office chair, sipping tea and reading the newspaper.

He said to comfort: “Alexander, what’s the difference when it comes to writing?

Here on Fleet Street, you sit in an office and even get a salary.

Moreover, to accommodate you, Benjamin has specially hired two writing assistants to help you collect information.

Even if you don’t need a fixed office, those two assistants do, don’t they?”

Great Dumas sat at the neighboring desk, twirling his quill pen.

The chubby man yawned and said with impatience, “This place feels like a prison.

Even if you keep me here, you should rent a bigger place.

If nothing else, we should at least have more room than the ‘Blackwood’s’ editorial office.”

“One day it will happen, but for now, please bear with it,” Arthur said.

“However, if you find it too cramped here, you can go to Scotland Yard to assist my police secretary with training.”

“Training?” Great Dumas’ hand, which was holding coffee, paused.

He furrowed his brow, “What have you lured one of the Bonaparte kids to do now?”

“Not lured; he proposed it,” Arthur said.

“Louis reported to me that, after observing the various police districts of London for a week, he found the quality of the police officers to be inconsistent, particularly their executive ability and discipline.

So…”

Great Dumas shook his head as he listened: “Who would be a cop if they could get a better job?

It’s either farmers who’ve just come to the city or craftsmen who’ve gone bankrupt.

For fifteen shillings a week, does he actually think he can hire the Pope’s Swiss Guards for Scotland Yard?”

Arthur replied, “Of course, we can’t get the Swiss Guards, but Louis did attend a military academy in Switzerland for several years, and he does have a family background in training.

He told me he plans to train a group of police officers for Scotland Yard with professional skills that are absolutely top-notch, based on the training standards of the French artillery.

The Criminal Investigation Department will be the first target of his training.”

Great Dumas nearly spat out the coffee in his mouth when he heard this, “What?!

Is he planning to train a French artillery squad for Scotland Yard?”

“Exactly, which is why I asked if you were interested in assisting him,” Arthur said, shaking the newspaper in his hand.

“Alexander, if I recall correctly, didn’t you serve as an artillery lieutenant and even as a deputy battery commander in France?”

“Not just serve!” Great Dumas perked up upon hearing this, snorting proudly and straightening his collar, “I’ve led bombardments on the Tuileries Palace!”

Arthur quickly raised his hand in an attempt to stop him: “You’ll just need to train them this time; there’s no need to teach them how to bombard St.

James’s Palace.

If you really feel an itch to do it, you can go to Saint Petersburg and teach the sailors there to bombard the Winter Palace.

Someone’s going to do it eventually; what difference does it make who?”

Great Dumas asked, “You have a grudge against the Tsar?”

Arthur replied calmly, “No, it’s just that I don’t have any friends in Russia at the moment.”

Upon hearing this, Great Dumas couldn’t help shaking his head, “The Britons really are cold-hearted.

You have no grudge against the Tsar, but I do.

Look what that cruel despot Tsar Nicholas I has done to Poland!

The hypocrite who previously protected the Greek from the Ottoman Empire, boasting himself as the protector of Christian believers across the world, has finally torn off his fake mask.”

After Great Dumas finished speaking, he noticed that Arthur was not only ignoring him but was also intently reading the newspaper.

He leaned in and asked, “What are you looking at?”

Arthur didn’t respond but instead handed over the paper, “Why don’t you take a look for yourself?”

Great Dumas skimmed through the newspaper rapidly.

“Greek President Assassinated, Foreign Office Expresses Deep Sorrow”

According to public news from Athens, the great leader of the Greek War of Independence, the distinguished European diplomat, and steadfast liberal fighter, Mr.

Ioannis Antonios Kapodistrias, founding father and first President of the Greek Republic, was attacked by two radical Greek nationalists on the street on his way to church for Sunday mass on October 9th.

Mr.

Kapodistrias was shot several times in the chest and despite efforts to save him, he died later that afternoon.

The two attackers were arrested by Greek authorities on the spot.

According to reliable sources, the motivation behind the assassination was the recent unrest in the Mani region.

The local leader, Petros Mavromichalis, was arrested and imprisoned by the Greek authorities for refusing to give up regional autonomy and to pay taxes, which caused extreme dissatisfaction among the local populace, leading to this tragic incident.