The Shadow of Great Britain

Chapter 810: Chapter 378: Britain, Do Not Cry for Me (Part 3)_2

Arthur turned over onto his horse and raised his whip: “We must restore order at all costs and as quickly as possible.”

“Yes, sir!”

Arthur tightened the reins, and the horse reared, neighing loudly: “Before things completely get out of control, we will achieve the greatest victory with the smallest sacrifice! Advance to the Tower of London!”

Under the rising full moon, Agares stood on the tip of the Clock Tower, gazing at Arthur leading the police force away.

The Red Devil put on his glasses and turned over the parchment scroll in his hand, which was filled with obscure demonic language. With a light flick of his fingertips, an unmanned quill pen flew over the parchment, sketching a few equations. As he watched the solution to this complex problem, his brows furrowed, yet he couldn’t help but smile.

The Red Devil petted the red-eyed raven on his shoulder and murmured: “This is a deadly trap, Arthur. I warned you long ago. If you want to escape, the price won’t be cheap.”

…

Tonight in London City, a legend is destined to be written.

A carriage coming from the north drove through the debris-filled street. Oxford Priest John Newman looked out of the carriage window at the shocking scene of devastation and the scattered bodies lying on the street. His hand on the Gospel trembled slightly.

He muttered: “Almighty God! Can you tell me what exactly happened here?”

The driver, his face pale from the infernal scene, stammered: “M-Mr. Newman, perhaps we should return for tonight? It doesn’t seem safe in London City.”

Newman placed a hand on the driver’s shoulder: “Jenkins, I cannot force you to overcome your fear, so I agree that you may leave. But I will not leave. As a messenger of God, He often teaches me that where there is suffering, I must go.”

“Mr. Newman?”

Newman got off the carriage, dragging his priest’s robe, and began to walk alone: “I will spread my Lord’s Gospel to the places without light.”

…

“Goddammit! Louis, can you do it or not! Didn’t you learn anything substantial in the Swiss military academy? And you still have the nerve to say you’re qualified to command the French artillery and lead them to form positions?!”

In the private box at the Astley Circular Theatre, Great Dumas punched a Scotland Yard officer rushing at him, then turned his head and roared at Louis, who was locked in a standoff with another officer.

Spurred by Great Dumas, Louis kicked the officer in the abdomen, sending him crashing into the wall, unable to get up again.

Louis wiped the blood from his mouth and spat: “Damn it! Alexander, give me some time, so I can recall the close combat techniques I learned in school.”

Miss Labbé, holding her son in her arms, crouched in the corner, her eyes full of terror as she watched the two representatives of France’s supreme fighting force. She never imagined that Great Dumas, after sweet-talking her into untying him, would first go and pick a fight with the seemingly kind police officers.

Miss Labbé screamed: “Alexander! Enough! Look at what you’re doing! These officers are good men. Can’t you discuss your issues with them calmly?”

“Discuss?”

Great Dumas’ eyes widened as he replied: “Caterina, you stupid woman! Do you know who they are? They are the police! You’ve been here only a few days, and you’ve already forgotten how the police behave? This may not be Paris, but when it comes to police conduct, London and Paris are the same! I once thought I could be friends with the police, but the truth proves I was wrong! Good people can never be police officers. No matter how refined they seem, in crucial moments, they always reveal their true nature. We can never hope that these damned cops will stand by the people’s side!”

Louis loosened his rope-burnt wrists, suppressing his anger: “Alexander, are you only capable of bullying women? If you’ve got any balls, shouldn’t we be doing something now?”

Great Dumas spat on the ground: “Of course! I need to settle this once and for all with him! Goddamn Arthur, that bastard!”

Just as Great Dumas finished his rant, the door to the private box was suddenly pushed open.

Standing by the door, Louis was about to throw a punch at the newcomer, but when he saw who it was, he stopped his fist immediately.

“Mr. Dickens? And Mr. Tennyson?”

Dickens and Tennyson were startled by the scene in the box. They asked: “Mr. Bonaparte, Alexander, can you two tell us what’s going on here?”

Louis and Alexander exchanged glances, and Great Dumas rubbed his head, impatiently fabricating a lie: “As you can see, a group of people broke into the box and tried to kidnap Louis and me. But fortunately, the two of us are strong enough to drive them away. Do you know where Arthur is? We intend to have a word with him about this.”

Tennyson exclaimed in shock: “Could it be that the newspapers were right? Is France really behind the recent turmoil? The July Monarchy of France not only incited tonight’s street riots but also planned to send people to abduct you two?”

Miss Labbé immediately interjected: “Gentlemen, don’t listen to Alexander. He’s having one of his episodes again!”