The Shadow of Great Britain

In the yellow drawing room of Buckingham Palace, it was so quiet you could almost hear the wind outside in the garden.

Arthur sat alone by the window, reviewing the documents he had brought with him.

The attendant had already added two servings of tea for him. Normally, Arthur never waited this long whenever he came to Buckingham Palace, but perhaps Victoria worried coming too early would expose her eavesdropping next door, or maybe she needed some time to calm her emotions...

Half an hour quickly passed.

For others, this was just the usual procedure of awaiting a monarch’s summons.

However, for those familiar with Arthur, this was unimaginable patience.

If his subordinates at Scotland Yard saw Arthur now, calmly savoring his second cup of tea, they’d likely suspect that Sir Arthur had been replaced by some Devil.

Of course, within the world of Scotland Yard, there were multiple versions of Sir Arthur’s image.

To the grassroots officers, Arthur Hastings was an undisputed hero in the police force, having been injured five times during his service, once being a fatal gunshot. Yet, even today, patrolmen can still spot the York tough guy’s figure on the streets; more than one new officer has claimed Sir Arthur corrected their patrol records under dim street lights and invited them for tea.

But for senior officers, Arthur’s image had a completely different flavor.

Stern, picky, and unyielding, with an almost pathological strictness towards figures, investigation records, and evidence chains.

The meetings he chaired only had two rhythms.

”Why isn’t it done yet?”

”Why isn’t it right even after it’s done?”

He detested perfunctory responses and excuses, and what was most terrifying was, he remembered everyone’s mistakes, but you’d never know when he’d bring them up again.

All senior officers in the Police Intelligence Department knew one unspoken rule: any report submitted to Sir Arthur had to be reviewed three times, especially avoiding words like ”seems” or ”perhaps.”

And his way of checking reports was exceptionally direct and meticulous, scrutinizing line by line, word by word, not even sparing the punctuation.

Every line of data you wrote in the report, he could recite in meetings.

But now, this Sir Arthur, who gave senior officers headaches, was sitting quietly by the window, and his face was so peaceful?

If he were at Scotland Yard, he’d probably already be pacing, while revisiting some Police Chief’s report, making the person doubt why they were born into this world.

Yet, this was Buckingham Palace.

Just as Arthur was about to look at his watch, suddenly, there came a slight creaking sound from the door hinges.

The heavy door of the yellow drawing room was steadily opened from the outside by the attendant, and that familiar figure then walked into the center of the room.

Victoria today chose an ivory morning dress with light gold trimmings, her face showing no emotion fluctuations, neither joy, nor anxiety, nor the embarrassment or panic after eavesdropping.

What to say?

Perhaps this was thanks to her teacher, Sir Arthur Hastings, for teaching well.

Attendants on both sides bowed their heads slightly, respectfully greeting, ”Her Majesty the Queen.”

Arthur immediately stood up, his right hand placed over his chest, bowing slightly with neat and nimble movements, ”Good afternoon, Your Majesty.”

”Good afternoon, Sir Arthur.” Victoria naturally walked over to Arthur’s side, ”I just finished the documents from Canada and heard you’ve been waiting a while?”

”Not too long, just enough for a nap.”

”Didn’t rest well last night?”

”A bit.” Arthur shook his head with a smile, ”After all, thinking about introducing the new Police Bill to you always makes me worry if I might make mistakes.”

”What’s there to worry about? You are a police expert.” Victoria gestured towards the round table, indicating Arthur to sit down, ”Whether it’s Viscount Melbourne or Lord Russell, they both suggested I listen to your views on the new Police Bill. If even you make mistakes, then probably no one in the entire country can provide correct answers on police matters.”

Arthur couldn’t help but raise his eyebrows at Victoria’s words.

If the remarks just now from Victoria were truly heartfelt, then everything Arthur hoped to gain from the new Police Bill was assured.

If those words were merely flattery, it’s not too bad either, as the Queen’s praise carries some weight.

He cooperatively took his seat but did not, like many attending members, unceremoniously hand over his prepared documents to Victoria.

Because he knew very well, although his student has been diligently reading exhaustive political reports since ascending the throne, Victoria in essence does not enjoy reading those tedious documents. She does so out of a sense of responsibility in fulfilling the duties of her monarchy.

Ultimately, she is still a young girl who prefers reading engaging novels and listening to tumultuous stories rather than reading dry reports or listening to lengthy speeches.

This is also why many politicians can receive the Queen’s smiles in Buckingham Palace but may not necessarily leave an impression on her.

Understanding Victoria’s nature, Arthur opened with a smile, ”Do you still remember when Scotland Yard was established?”

”Of course I remember, you told me before.” Victoria almost didn’t hesitate, ”1829, under Sir Robert Peel’s leadership, the Metropolitan Police Act was passed.”