Shadow of great britain

The crowd of demonstrators marching on Piccadilly outside St James's Palace is growing.

The weather in London today is still bad. After morning, the sun's face has been covered with a layer of haze.

And now, a cold and chilling drizzle is falling.

The dripping raindrops fell on the spacious avenue paved with bricks, and the muddy water overflowing from the cracks in the bricks gave the usually clean and tidy West End of London a gray background.

Pairs of square-toed soles that were worn almost transparent stepped firmly on the muddy water on the road. Half of the muddy water splashed all over the already tattered overalls legs, and the other half followed the cracks in the rough hemp shoes and socks, causing them to feel numb with a cold sting. Long time nerves.

There was a passion on the face of every demonstrator that was different from the dull expressions in the factory in the past. This long-suppressed mood was continuously amplified in the parade. Their dead children, exiled blood relatives, suffering Everyone has a different experience of the body being destroyed, but only the painful mood and the out-of-control impulse to burn the world are the same for everyone.

Beep! Beep! Beep! ! !

"Hurry up, hurry up! Keep up, keep fucking up!!!"

Several experienced police inspectors from Scotland Yard blew their sirens with their mostly swollen cheeks to evacuate pedestrians and passing carriages on the road. However, the water droplets hanging on their faces could not be distinguished for a long time whether they were sweat or sweat. rain.

This heavy and depressing feeling and the muddy road made several police inspectors couldn't help but think of some distant events. It was the rainy season in the Iberian Peninsula more than ten years ago.

Back then they were still new recruits, back then they were always moving forward.

At the Battle of Bussaco, they defeated the Field Marshal of the First French Empire, André Masséna, 'Son of Victory'.

At the Battle of Salamanca, they killed Field Marshal Auguste Marmont of the First French Empire.

At the Battle of Victoria, they defeated Napoleon's brother, King Joseph Bonaparte of Spain, and the arrogant Field Marshal of the First French Empire, the 'Proud Bandit' Jean-Baptiste Jourdan.

As well as the final outcome of the Battle of Toulouse before learning the news of Napoleon's abdication, they collected the defeat of the last French First Empire Field Marshal, the 'Iron Hand' Jean de Dieu Soult, as spoils of war.

They come from different armies, but they all have their own glorious traditions, brilliant records and excellent work abilities.

Assistance was rushed to the scene under a special operations order from the Prime Minister and the Home Secretary, and was controlled by Arthur Hastings, Chief Superintendent of the East London District of the Metropolitan Police.

The person who came to support was the retired lieutenant of the "Wellington Guards" of the 5th Royal Guards Infantry Regiment, who is "always belligerent, often tired, but never defeated", and the current Superintendent of the West London District of the Greater London Police Department, George. Mosley.

In the Battle of Salamanca, the 11th Royal Infantry Regiment suffered heavy casualties and 340 casualties of 412 men, but no one retreated. Retired Captain William. Michelle.

During the Battle of Albuera, the 57th Royal Infantry Regiment was famous for being a "die hard" retired lieutenant of the 57th Royal Infantry Regiment because the commander of the regiment was seriously injured and fell to the ground, but he still shouted "Die Hard" before dying and ordered the entire regiment to advance. He is currently on active duty in Greater London. Superintendent of Police, Middlesex District, Joseph Marcellin.

And the retired captain of the 61st Royal Infantry Regiment "Flower of Toulouse" who quickly entered the battle shortly after being reorganized in 1814 and was particularly conspicuous on the battlefield due to his tragic casualties and his new blood-stained uniform. Current Chief Superintendent of East London Region of the Metropolitan Police, Davis Lee.

The scene was filled with sirens blaring like buzzers. In the rain, several police superintendents could no longer see the road in front of them. They raised an arm high to break through the crowd, leading the young police officers who were still unskilled in dealing with this situation. go ahead.

"Order! Order!! Execute the order!!!"

The conscientious police officers marched forward under the command of their superiors. Some of them ran to the front of the parade, clearing the road as much as possible to prevent stampedes.

As for the other group, they followed behind the demonstrators.

They were panting, their expressions were a little nervous, a little hesitant, and more, perhaps, there were some fears and sympathy that were not allowed to be spoken out by the Scotland Yard regulations and their own responsibilities.

Most of them were workers and farmers, and they really didn't know how to describe their feelings at the moment.

They were also drenched in rain, and a lot of rain poured into their leather riding boots, almost freezing their feet.

Their hands, which were so cold that they were about to lose their temperature, did not dare to be careless at all times, tightly holding their uniform coats that were soaked by the rain and clinging to their skin.

It was the civilized stick they hid under their uniforms. They had no pistols or police officers' knives. The civilized stick was the only weapon they were allowed to use today.

Their origins are as complex as a demonstration team. They include street vendors, workers in the East District, workers at the docks, landless farmers, and even some who once worked like those who did not want to be exposed to the sun. Pickpockets do the same disgraceful things.

Shouting the slogan 'Down with the Tories, down with Wellington', they walked along Piccadilly towards Wellington Arch, which was built to commemorate the victory at the Battle of Waterloo.

The windows of the houses on both sides of the road in Mayer District were opened. London's aristocratic merchants looked at the parade crowd and the policemen who looked like drowned rats. Their faces showed various expressions, and some looked very calm. Some looked anxious, but most of them were just joining in the fun and watching the show curiously.

In the fence of Hyde Park, there was still a group of officers standing in the rain, wearing sabers, white gloves, and black leather boots. Some of them had serious expressions, and some had joking expressions. They were stationed in Hyde Park. Cavalry commanders of the 'Piccadilly Butchers' Horse Guards in the park.

A commander with a slightly wrinkled brow and a mustache stretched out his hand from the fence and stopped Superintendent George Mosley who was passing by.

"Man, need some help?"

George Mosley looked up at his epaulettes, raised his hand and saluted and said: "Captain, we have not received a suppression order from the Ministry of War at present, and the situation is currently under the control of the Metropolitan Police Department. .In this case, please stay calm."

The cavalry captain looked at the increasingly large parade, sneered, and talked about his experience.

"Are you sure Scotland Yard can handle it? Brother, listen to my advice. Regarding the parade, the more you let the situation get out of hand, the more out of control you will get. Attack them quickly, break them up, and defeat them one by one."

When George Mosley heard this, he just let out a breath and wiped the cold rain on his face.

"Perhaps I am not as experienced as the Cavalry Guards in suppressing the demonstrators on Piccadilly Avenue. But when it comes to fighting skills, you guys are not as good as the Fifth Infantry Regiment after a hundred years of practice.

The second regiment of Gray Dragons, the most capable of our cavalry, also behaved like a piece of shit in Waterloo. The few regiments that can show off in front of me, except for the Cold River of the second infantry regiment, are basically standing now. Here, you guards cavalry guys, stop fucking farting in front of me!

We at Scotland Yard have not retired from your Horse Guards. Do you know Taylor Clemens? That idiot does one thing and smashes another, and we have to come and wipe his ass afterwards! If you really want to help, tell your men not to move!

Huh, I think the War Department usually feeds you too much. Your horses can attack civilians in any area, but they can't attack the highlands occupied by the French! "

After saying this, Superintendent George Mosley whistled loudly and gave orders to run forward: "Don't fall behind! Although I have retired, I am still a veteran of the Fifth Regiment. The police can lose to anyone, except the cavalry! Practice has proven that two-legged ones are more powerful than four-legged ones!"

"Oh! You damn mashed potato eater!" The cavalry captain glared and was about to curse back, but was stopped by his companions in an instant.

The officer on the side joked: "Forget it, are you really planning to compete with the 'Wellington Guards'? There are people on top of the 5th Infantry Regiment. The iron wall is unbreakable, and even the windows are made of iron. Iron Duke Arthur Wellesley."

Unexpectedly, as soon as he finished speaking, he saw a black figure whose outline could only be clearly seen gradually becoming clearer in the rain. It was a young police officer with a reddish light in his black eyes.

The only difference between him and the police officers who just passed by was that maybe he ran too fast and lost his round black hat somewhere.

He stood in front of the cavalry commanders. The officers glanced up and down, frowned quite dissatisfied and asked, "What are you looking at? We are not your superiors. The one eating mashed potatoes went forward."

When Arthur heard the words, he didn't say anything. He just took out a written order that was burning in his heart from his arms and passed it through the gap in the railing.

The officers didn't even look at it, and the angry cavalry captain even slapped the document out of Arthur's hand.

"Are you sick? The Horse Guards will not accept Scotland Yard's dispatch! Get away!"

Arthur glanced at the document that was soaked in the rain. The dark red ink pad gradually melted into the water bubbles, dyeing the transparent raindrops bright red.

He said calmly: "Pick it up."

The cavalry captain drew his sword out of its sheath, and in anger he put the tip of the sword against Arthur's throat: "Do you think that just because your boss can talk back to me, it means you can do it too? Before you speak, you'd better first Look what you are!"

His mind wasn't very clear anymore, but that didn't mean that his companions weren't clear either.

Someone bent down and picked up the document, but after just one glance, his face couldn't help but change three times.

"Cook, it's almost done! This is an order from the War Department. The Prime Minister requires us that no one is allowed to leave the station until we get the order."

When Cook heard this, he couldn't help but trembled in his heart, but he hesitated for a long time and still couldn't bear to put down the tip of the knife.

When the two sides were entangled, it was Arthur who spoke first: "Captain Cook, I will speak when I need you. I have always trusted your officers from the Cavalry Guards, just like I trust Clemens." The same as Superintendent Si. But in this critical moment, please strictly implement the order."

When Cook heard this, he hesitated for a moment, then put away his officer's sword and saluted Arthur bravely: "Sorry, please rest assured that the Guards Cavalry Regiment will not step out of Hyde until there is a new order." One step in the park. However, I still recommend that you stop the procession before passing the Wellington Arc de Triomphe. Based on the slogans they chanted during the procession, I am worried that they may do something unnecessary after seeing the statue of Mr. Duke. An overreaction.”

Arthur nodded slightly, turned around and disappeared into the rain.

In the raindrops, only the aftertaste of his voice remained.

"Thank you for your suggestion."