The Shadow of Great Britain

Chapter 1215: Chapter 140: German Witchcraft

“Ha—hew (Heinrich), sorry, my German is not that good. Is that how you pronounce your name? It sounds almost the same as calling a donkey.”

“What?! You damned British Jew, how dare you call me that!”

Soon, the argument outside the door turned into the sound of scuffling, followed by the voice of Great Dumas trying to mediate.

“Gentlemen, this is a university campus, and engaging in a brawl here is far too unseemly! A duel is a more elegant affair, so if you truly wish to settle this, at least get yourselves some swords first, no?”

“What a load of nonsense about being proper! I’ve only left Gottingen for seven or eight years, has the university already enacted laws banning duels?”

Though Arthur didn’t witness the fight, even through the door, he could deduce from the sound of fists meeting flesh that the two Jewish friends were indeed using all their strength, fighting as if their lives depended on it.

The Duke of Sussex furrowed his brow as he listened, pondering for a moment before uncertainly suggesting: “That voice… why does it sound like Mr. Benjamin Disraeli?”

Arthur promptly stood and excused himself: “Your Highness, it seems I must attend to some school affairs.”

The Duke of Sussex didn’t think much of it. As a graduate of the University of Gottingen from thirty years ago, he remembered that during his time, the campus atmosphere was even more violent than now. On the school lawns, it wasn’t uncommon to see students drawing swords for duels; if you were lucky, you might even witness a brawl or two.

Moreover, the scope of student fights wasn’t confined to the campus. Sometimes they would band together to cause trouble, drinking and brawling at nearby Marburg University or Halle University, competing for the now laughable title of ‘Germany’s Number One.’

Because of the students’ long-standing unruly behavior, for a long time, locals in the university town regarded university students as a derogatory term.

Perhaps recalling his own wild youth, the Duke of Sussex didn’t blame them but instead jokingly said: “It’s only my first day back at the University of Gottingen, but just breathing the air here makes me feel thirty years younger.”

Arthur laughed along for a few moments, then turned to face the Duke of Sussex, taking a few steps backward swiftly and opening the door, using his body to shield the scene behind him as he retreated.

As Arthur stepped outside, he found the battle had reached a fever pitch. First, Heine had pinned Disraeli down and delivered a set of Prussian martial arts punches with such force and precision that one could glimpse the profound heritage of eight hundred years of German martial arts tradition.

But Heine’s dominance didn’t last long, as Disraeli soon found an opportunity to firmly seize Heine’s waist and, with the demeanor of a Westminster Lower House Member, flipped Heine to the ground, showcasing the traditional English martial arts style.

Seeing this, Arthur hurried forward to help Great Dumas separate the two.

Although Heine and Disraeli were forcefully pulled apart, as the Dante of the German literary world and the Caesar of British fashionable novels, their mouths showed no signs of stopping.

“Arthur, in other matters, I can listen to you, but this time, I must teach this miserly descendant of Shylock a lesson. You know me, I’m a person who values promises, and since I was eight years old, I swore that no one could call me with the derogatory Ha—hew!”

“Ha? It seems I got it right; your name indeed has something to do with a donkey. Heinrich, read as Enrique in Italian, Henri in French, and in English, we can call you Henry or Harry, which indeed sounds like Ha—hew! A donkey!”

Hearing Disraeli’s mockery, Arthur helplessly spoke: “Benjamin, you don’t need to show off your multilingual skills like this.”

Great Dumas, hearing this, couldn’t help but mediate: “Benjamin, by calling Heinrich that, you’re actually insulting yourself too, you know?”

Disraeli adjusted his bow tie and brushed the dust off his clothes: “Alexander, you damned traitor, you’re actually taking his side!”

Great Dumas explained: “This isn’t about taking sides. But Heinrich once told me that his distaste for the Ha—hew nickname is related to his childhood experiences.

In his hometown, there lived a man named ‘Garbage Mitchell,’ who every morning would drive a donkey cart through the town, stopping in front of each household and collecting the piles of trash women had swept up, transporting them to the landfill outside the town.

This man looked much like his trade, and the donkey bore a striking resemblance to its owner. The donkey either stood still in front of each door or moved briskly, depending entirely on how Mitchell shouted the ‘Ha—hew’ command.

Because this shout sounded very similar to Heinrich’s name, the kids in his neighborhood quickly picked it up. They would shout Heinrich’s name just like Garbage Mitchell calling his donkey.

These little brats would sometimes feign innocence and ask Heinrich to teach them how to properly pronounce his name and the donkey’s name to avoid confusion. But those rascals pretended they couldn’t learn it, deliberately making a call that sounded exactly like Heinrich’s name…”