Chapter 1 The Berkshire's Goshawks

Author: People in the Teaching

Chapter 1 The Berkshire's Goshawks

Autumn 1880, London.

The sky is dark and deep, and the condensed haze covers the entire city like a sky wall.

The St. Pancras station was full of carriages, and the hairy animals were frozen and exhaled. They couldn't help but move to get up to dispel the cold. The horse's hooves trampled on the frozen soil and splashed the grey and residual snow.

Woo woo woo woo woo woo woo-

The long snake made of steel emitted a rhythmic roar, resounding for hundreds of meters in a radius.

The rough locomotive slowly drove in, and the rhythm of the crankshaft connecting rod between the wheels gradually slowed down to stop. A large amount of water vapor was sprayed out from the roof, quickly rendering the platform white.

This is not an ordinary return train. I just returned from Portsmouth Pier, where the 'Olentiz', which just stopped on the coast, is a troop transport ship that returned from the Europa mainland. The ship is full of disability or contract

Soldiers who have expired retirement.

The station platform was already full of families who welcomed the returnees, including the rich people dressed properly and the poor people dressed poor, but they were all waiting with the same expectation.

The door of the carriage opened one by one, and the conductor waving the flag jumped first, followed by the soldiers carrying large and small bags. They wore uniforms like lobsters, most of them were injured by missing arms and legs, but

There was an unstoppable joy of returning home on those tired faces.

The gentle woman smiled and took her child's arms. The servant beside her rushed up to pick up the master's luggage. It was a wealthy family.

The poor family also changed into clean and bloated winter clothes. The wrinkles on their faces were covered with tears of joy and care. They both laughed and cried and held their son's remaining arm.

The cheerful atmosphere of family reunion overshadows the cold, and the bleak winter station seems to have added a bit of bright colors.

The retired soldiers were immersed in the joy of returning home, with one exception. He was alone carrying his luggage and no one greeted him. He was wearing a dark gray windbreaker, and was a little lonely, looking out of place with the festive surroundings.

He was six feet tall, with short, straight black hair, sharp features, but his face was haggard and thin, and his dark pupils were faintly confused about the future.

Although he looked intact, he supported his body with a cane. He staggered and limped while walking, and his right leg seemed to be unable to exert force.

Watson looked up at the sky outside the platform, as he knew in another world, thick haze covered the sky, and the air was filled with misty moisture and fine particles.

If he had been before, he would have been choking and coughing.

But now this body has long been accustomed to it. Even after experiencing the life-threatening Battle of Maiwangd, he actually felt that the environment here was much better than the choking smoke in the trenches!

Just like countless time travelers, Watson, the original body, was also an abandoned baby without a father and mother. He was abandoned at the entrance of the orphanage of the church in George Moule, and there was a note with his name in his basket.

When Old Watson became an adult, he worked as a handyman on the streets. Finally, with passion and desire for money, he signed a three-year volunteer military service contract and devoted himself to the British army.

Unfortunately, when I first stepped onto the front line, I was shocked by the roar of artillery fire and the bloody battlefield, and my whole body was trembling, and my mind was turbulent and scared my soul. When I was in a daze, my legs and feet fell to the ground.

When he got up again, the fear in his eyes had disappeared, and he turned into astonishment and confusion. At that time, the owner of this body had become an oriental from the 21st century.

New Watson had a service experience in another timeline that could not be disclosed by confidentiality treaties, and had a higher ability to withstand the cruelty of war. With advanced military literacy and an indispensable luck, it was actually

We survived this war peacefully.

It was not until the late stage of the war that Watson led his team to clear the battlefield and was attacked by an ambushed enemy troops. The heavy Jezeer smoothbore gun of the Fulstein people was rarely accurate and hit his knees and shoulders like a god's help.

He immediately rolled down from the horse's back.

If the orderly Murray had not rescued him in time, grabbed him on horseback and transported him safely back to the rear base, Watson would have long fallen into the hands of the cruel Gaji soldiers and became a spoiled for the exhibition.

The two bullets smashed his shoulder blades and rubbed the artery under the clavicle; the other ones smashed his right tibia.

The pain caused Watson to form a bone. It was originally because his vitality was lost and dispersed along the wound, as if there were invisible hungry ghosts to remove the essence. He became weaker and gradually became haggard and thin.

Watson was forced to move to the hospital behind Peshawar to recuperate. The wound on his shoulder had long been healed, but due to the backward medical conditions at that time, his right foot left a sequelae. He seemed to be stepping on the ground.

The clouds of nothingness cannot be used, and even daily training cannot be completed.

The doctor was unable to give a definite diagnosis and treatment plan, so he could only judge it as a difficult and complicated disease and advised him to rest well.

Watson had been recuperating for more than a month but had not improved. As soon as his service contract expired, he simply retired and left the Berkshire Brigade.

He has regained his freedom and did not choose to go to the east outside the far hemisphere, where an unprecedented change is brewing. He is now a white-skinned and yellow-hearted egg man. Under the racial differences, he believes that he does not have the courage to stand in his hometown.

He turned around and stepped onto the ship back to the island.

"Hey! John, where are you living? Why don't you go back with my carriage?"

Suddenly someone patted Watson on the shoulder. He turned around and found that it was Stanford, a military doctor with a bachelor's degree in medicine from the University of London. Although he had never been in the same trench, he had met in the rear camp.

He can barely be called half of his comrade-in-arms, and he is a friend he can chat with on the way back.

Watson nodded slightly, "Thank you, but I haven't determined where to live yet. Maybe I can just find an apartment and take a rest for a while."

"Then I recommend you to Strand Street, which is adjacent to the river bank, with convenient transportation and suitable prices."

“It looks like a good suggestion.”

"Let's go, let my coachman take you there."

Stanford's enthusiasm made Watson difficult to refuse. He waved his hand and refused the other servant's hand that reached out to pick up his luggage and insisted on carrying it himself.

In addition to the sturdy suitcase servants, they also have their mother and sister. The family is a standard Caucasian look, with slightly curly hair, a narrow face and a high nose bridge, but their facial features are all

Handsome.

The carriage at Little Stanford is indeed spacious, and it won’t seem crowded when seated for four people. The cushions are even more soft and comfortable that is hard to match for train seats.

The carriage slowly passed through the streets of London. This was the first time Watson had witnessed this industrial city in his own eyes. Although it inherited the original memory, the senses that ultimately came from others were like a mottled roll of film.

The video is full of indecision.

He was so curious that he was like Liu Laolao who had just entered the Grand View Garden. He turned his head and looked out the car. The buildings on both sides of the street were like this chaotic era, with a mixture of various styles.

The industrial revolution has allowed new products such as glass and steel frames to be used in large quantities, allowing the emergence of majestic buildings with large spans. The walls are artistic patterns made of various bricks and stones. The domes are round or square, and various retro style designs and

New industrial materials are fused together to present a diverse city.

But the pedestrians I saw along the way were not as vibrant as this booming city. They were mostly frowning and their faces were portrayed by the hardships of life.

On the way, Stanford was telling his thrilling experience in the army, which caused his mother and sister to scream, and from time to time he would pull Watson to join the chat.

At first Watson had a lot of effort to reply, but gradually became tired of it. He was not the kind of guy who was eloquent and liked to share himself with outsiders.

But Stanford seems to like to bring him along in his words, perhaps because he wants to use his affirmation to enhance the authenticity of the story.

Watson could only act as a ruthless response machine, nodding frequently to say yes, yes, you are right, that time was indeed very thrilling.

When the carriage arrived on the river bank, the story of Stanford was not finished, but he did not forget about his comrades beside him. He knocked on the inner wall of the carriage and shouted to the servant who was driving the carriage: "Claude, look for a home nearby.

The affordable hotel with a good environment stopped, but my friend hasn't found a place to stay yet."

"Yes, Master."

After giving instructions to the servants, Stanford turned to Watson and asked, "John, do you want to come out for a drink tomorrow?"

"No problem, if you talk about a place, I will definitely go to the appointment on time."

Watson also has his own thinking. Although he received a considerable income after he was discharged from the army, enough to live comfortably for a while, but he, deeply influenced by the hard-working thoughts in the East, was unwilling to live in vain and was planning to stay here.

Find a suitable job in London.

He was originally an orphan, had shallow connections and experience, and most likely he could not find any suitable job.

Stanford, who was obviously from a wealthy family, could obviously give him a lot of help in his journey to find a job.

"Then let's make sure that I'll let Cloud come and pick you up tomorrow, and we'll go together."

While they were talking, the carriage slowly stopped, and Claude's voice came from the front, "Master, what do you think about here?"

Stanford and Watson looked out of the car at the same time. They parked next to the place and saw a small hotel. It seemed that it was not long before it was newly built. The exterior looked quite new. Looking inside through the fashionable glass doors, the interior decoration was

It's not luxurious, but it's just right, simplicity and cleanliness. The point is that the price of the brand placed in front of the door is quite reasonable.

Watson took the lead and said, "I think it's not bad, just let's do it here."

Although Stanford felt that the environment was a bit simple, he was not inconvenient to say more, "Then tomorrow, I will let Claude come and pick you up at eleven o'clock."

"Well, Mrs. Stanford and Miss Stanford, see you."

After saying that, Watson walked out of the car, refused Victor's help, took off his luggage from the car, stood there, waved his hand and said goodbye to the gradually moving carriage.

After leaving, Elizabeth Stanford, who had maintained a dignified smile due to his tutoring since childhood, immediately collapsed and looked out the window with disgust.

A garbage hotel without even a doorman, a dirty and noisy environment, and the disabled big-headed soldier with a bad face along the way... Thinking of this, Elizabeth Stanford couldn't help but feel a little angry on his face.

She shouted to her younger brother as if she was preaching: "Lilan, don't interact with these shabby poor people in the future! An orphan from the East District who has no power or power, will never be able to get rid of the status of a lower-class person in the future and will not be worthy of being friends with us!

”

Faced with his sister's philosophical remarks, Stanford shook his head and said, "Elizabeth, you won't understand, Watson..."

He paused, looked at Watson's limping back, as if he was recalling memories, and a hint of yearning and admiration suddenly appeared on his face.

"Watson, a buried war hero, was called the "Borkeshire Brigade's Goshawk" in Fulstein, and had gone deep behind enemy lines to rescue dozens of captured colleagues; he stood alone and repelled many times.

Attack, kill and wound hundreds of enemies..."

"If Watson had not defyed military orders and beat his boss, his achievements would have been enough to win a Queen's Cross!"

The world view of this book is based on a niche game - the Secret Teaching Simulator.

I will chase the treasures and call out strange gods, and follow the creeds and create secret teachings.
Chapter completed!