Chapter 1 The Goshawk of the Berkshire Brigade

Autumn of 1880, London.

The sky was dark and deep, and the condensed haze covered the entire city like a wall of the sky.

Outside St. Pancras Station, there were many carriages parked. The long-haired animals were frozen and breathed long. They couldn't help but move their bodies to dispel the severe cold. The horses' hooves trampled the frozen soil, splashing the gray and turbid snow.

Woo-woo-woo--

The long snake made of steel made a rhythmic roar, which echoed for hundreds of meters.

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

This was not an ordinary return train. It had just returned from Portsmouth Dock. The "Olentiz" that had just docked on the coast was a troop transport ship returning from the European continent. The ship was full of soldiers who had retired due to disability or expiration of their contracts.

The station platform was already full of family members waiting to welcome the returnees. There were both well-dressed rich people and poor people in shabby clothes, but they were all waiting with the same expectation.

The carriage doors opened one by one with a click, and the conductor waving the flag jumped out first, followed by the soldiers carrying large and small bags. They were wearing the same lobster-like sergeant uniforms, and most of them were injured with missing arms and legs, but on those tired faces, there was the unstoppable joy of returning home.

The gentle woman smiled and took her child's arm, and the servants rushed up to pick up the young master's luggage. They were wealthy families.

The poor families also changed into washed and bloated winter clothes, and their faces full of vicissitudes and wrinkles were stained with tears of joy and pity, and they held their son's remaining arms with both laughter and tears.

The cheerful atmosphere of family reunion overwhelmed the severe cold, and the bleak autumn station seemed to have added a few bright colors.

All the retired soldiers were immersed in the joy of returning home, except for one person. He was carrying his luggage alone and no one was there to greet him. He was wearing a dark gray windbreaker, looking lonely and out of tune with the surrounding festivities.

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

Although he looked intact, he was supported by a cane, and he walked with a staggering gait and a limp, and his left leg seemed to be powerless.

Watson looked up at the sky outside the platform. Just as he knew in another world, the thick smog covered the sky, and the air was full of humid and fine particles.

If it were him in the past, he would have coughed repeatedly.

But now this body has long been accustomed to it. Even after experiencing the life-threatening Battle of Maiwand, he actually felt that compared with the choking gunpowder in the trenches, the environment here is much better!

Just like countless predecessors of the time traveler, the original Watson was also an abandoned baby without a father or a mother. He was abandoned at the door of George Muller's church orphanage, and there was a note with his name in the basket.

After adulthood, the old Watson worked in various odd jobs on the street. Finally, with passion and desire for money, he signed a three-year voluntary military service contract and joined the British army.

It's a pity that when he first stepped onto the front line, he was shocked by the roar of artillery fire and the bloody battlefield. He trembled all over, his mind was turbulent and he was scared out of his wits. When he was confused, his legs and feet softened and he fell to the ground.

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

The new Watson had served in another future on another timeline, which could not be disclosed due to the confidentiality agreement. He had a higher tolerance for the cruelty of war. With advanced military literacy and a bit of luck, he survived the war peacefully.

Until the late stage of the war, when Watson led the team to clear the battlefield, he was ambushed by the enemy troops who had ambushed in advance. The Jezer rifle of the Fuerstan people, which was known for its accuracy, was even more accurate this time, hitting his knees and shoulders as if with divine help.

He immediately rolled off the horse.

If it were not for the timely rescue of the orderly Murray, who grabbed him on the horse and transported him back to the rear base safely, Watson would have fallen into the hands of the cruel Gaji soldiers and become a trophy for display.

The two bullets shattered his shoulder blade and rubbed his subclavian artery; the other shattered his left tibia.

The pain made Watson emaciated. His vigorous vitality was lost along the wound, as if an invisible hungry ghost had taken his essence. He became weaker and weaker, and his body gradually became haggard and emaciated.

Watson was forced to move to a hospital behind Peshawar for recuperation. The wound on his shoulder had long been healed, but due to the backward medical conditions at that time, his left foot was left with sequelae. When he stepped on the ground, it was like stepping on empty clouds. He couldn't use his strength and couldn't even complete his daily training.

The doctor couldn't give a definite diagnosis and treatment plan. He could only judge it as a difficult and complicated disease and advised him to rest well.

Watson recuperated for more than a month without any improvement. When his service contract expired, he simply retired and left the Berkshire Brigade.

After regaining his freedom, he did not choose to go to the East, far away in the hemisphere, where an unprecedented change was brewing. He was now a white-skinned, yellow-hearted egg man. Due to the racial differences, he believed that he did not have the courage to stand firm in his homeland, so he turned around and boarded the ship back to the island.

"Hey! John, where do you live? How about going back with my family's carriage?"

Suddenly someone patted Watson on the shoulder. He turned around and saw that it was Little Stanford, a military doctor with a bachelor's degree in medicine from the University of London. Although they had never been in the same trench, they had met in the rear camp and could barely be called half a comrade-in-arms. They were also friends who could chat well on the way home.

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

"Then I recommend you to go to Strand Street, which is adjacent to the riverbank, with convenient transportation and a reasonable price."

"It looks like a good suggestion."

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

Little Stanford's enthusiasm made it difficult for Watson to refuse. He waved his hand to refuse the other servant's hand that extended to take the luggage, and insisted on carrying it himself.

In addition to the sturdy servant carrying the box, Little Stanford was also greeted by his mother and sister. Their family all had standard Caucasian looks, with flaxen and slightly curly hair, narrow and long faces and high noses, but their facial features were all handsome.

The carriage of the young Stanford family was indeed spacious, and it would not seem crowded even if four people sat in it. The cushions were soft and comfortable, which was incomparable to the seats on the train.

The carriage slowly passed through the streets of London. This was the first time Watson had seen this industrial city with his own eyes since he was born. Although he inherited the memory of his original body, it was ultimately from the senses of others, just like a roll of mottled film, full of unreality.

He was as curious as Granny Liu who had just entered the Grand View Garden. He tilted his head and looked out of the car. The buildings on both sides of the street were just like this chaotic era, with a variety of styles mixed together.

The Industrial Revolution allowed new products such as glass and steel frames to be used in large quantities, allowing large-span majestic buildings to appear. The walls were artistic patterns made of various bricks and stones, and the domes were round or square. Various retro-style designs were integrated with new industrial materials, presenting a diverse city.

But the pedestrians seen along the way were not as lively as this booming city. Most of them had frowns on their faces, and the hardships of life were portrayed on their faces.

During the journey, Stanford kept telling about his thrilling experience in the army, causing his mother and sister to scream and sometimes even pull Watson to join the chat.

At first, Watson was still able to reply, but gradually he got tired of it. He was not the kind of guy who was good at speaking and liked to share himself with outsiders.

But Stanford seemed to like to mention him in the conversation, perhaps wanting to strengthen the authenticity of the story with his affirmation.

Watson could only act as a ruthless response machine, nodding and saying yes, yes, yes, you are right, that time was indeed thrilling.

When the carriage reached the riverbank, Stanford had not finished telling his story, but he did not forget about his comrades. He knocked on the inner wall of the carriage and shouted to the servant driving the carriage: "Claude, find a good and affordable hotel nearby to stop. My friend hasn't found a place to stay yet."

"Yes, Master."

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

"No problem, you tell me a place, and I will definitely be there on time."

Watson also had his own thoughts. Although he received a considerable income after retiring from the army, enough for him to live comfortably for a while, he was deeply influenced by the hardworking ideas of the East and was unwilling to sit on the mountain and eat nothing. He was planning to find a suitable job in London.

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

And Stanford, who was obviously from a wealthy family, could obviously provide a lot of help in his job search.

"Then it's settled. I'll have Claude pick you up tomorrow and we'll go together."

As they were talking, the carriage slowly stopped and Claude's voice came from the front, "Master, how do you like this place?"

Little Stanford and Watson looked out of the carriage at the same time. There was a small hotel next to where they parked. It seemed that it had been newly built not long ago and the appearance was quite new. Looking through the fashionable glass door, the interior decoration was not luxurious, but it was just right for simplicity and cleanliness. The key point was that the price on the sign in front of the door was quite reasonable.

Watson was the first to say, "I think it's not bad. Let's go here."

Although Little Stanford felt that the environment was a bit shabby, he didn't say much at this point, "Then tomorrow at 11 o'clock, I'll have Claude come to pick you up together."

"Well, Mrs. Stanford and Miss Stanford, goodbye."

After saying that, Watson got out of the car directly, declined Victor's help, took the luggage from the car by himself, and stood there waving goodbye to the carriage that was gradually moving away.

After leaving, Elizabeth Stanford, who had always maintained a dignified smile due to her family education since childhood, immediately fell down and looked out the window with disgust.

A rubbish hotel without even a doorman, a dirty and noisy environment, and a disabled soldier with a bad face all the way... Thinking of this, Elizabeth Stanford couldn't help but show a bit of anger on her face.

She shouted at her brother like a preacher: "Leland, don't associate with these shabby poor people in the future! An orphan from the East District, powerless, will never get rid of the status of an inferior person in the future. He is not worthy of being our friend!"

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

He paused, looking at Watson's limping back, as if he was reminiscing, and a trace of yearning and admiration suddenly appeared on his face.

"Watson is a buried war hero. He is known as the 'Goshawk of the Berkshire Brigade' in Fulstein. He once went deep behind enemy lines to rescue dozens of captured colleagues. He held his ground alone to repel multiple attacks and killed and wounded hundreds of enemies..."

"If Watson had not disobeyed military orders and beaten his superiors, 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 Esoteric Cult Simulator.

Chasing the taboo treasure, calling on the alien god, adhering to the creed, and creating the Esoteric Cult.