I am creating a esoteric religion in London

Chapter 1 The Goshawks of the Berkshire Brigade

Autumn 1980, London.

The sky is dark and deep, and the condensed smog envelopes the entire city like a sky wall.

St. Pancras Station was full of carriages, and the long-haired animals were panting from the cold, and they couldn't help moving their bodies to dispel the severe cold. The horseshoes trampled on the frozen ground and splashed the gray residual snow.

woohoo-

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

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

This is not an ordinary return train. It has just returned from Portsmouth Pier, where the 'Aurentez', which has just docked on the coast, is a troop carrier returning from the European continent. retired soldiers.

The station platform was already full of family members welcoming the returnees. There were well-dressed rich and shabby poor, but they all waited with the same expectation.

The carriage doors opened one by one with a click, and the conductor waving the flag jumped off first, followed by the soldiers carrying large bags and small bags. They wore uniform lobster-like sergeant uniforms, and most of them were injured with missing arms and legs. On those tired faces, there is an unstoppable joy of returning home.

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

The impoverished family also put on bloated winter clothes that had been washed, tears of joy and pity stained their wrinkled faces, and they held their son's only remaining arm while laughing and crying.

The cheerful atmosphere of a family reunion overwhelmed the severe cold, and the bleak winter station seemed to add some bright colors.

All the retired soldiers were immersed in the joy of returning home, except for one of them. He was alone with his luggage and no one greeted him. He was dressed in a dusty dark windbreaker.

He is six feet tall, with short black hair and sharp features, but his face is haggard and thin, and his dark eyes reveal a faint confusion about the future.

Although he seemed to have complete limbs, he leaned on a cane to support his body. He faltered and limped when he walked, and his right leg seemed to be unable to exert strength.

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

If it were him in the past, he would have been choking and coughing again and again.

But now this body has long been used to it, and even after experiencing the battle of Maiwande, which was close to death, he actually felt that compared with the choking gunpowder smoke in the trenches, the environment here is so much better!
Just like countless previous traversers, the original Watson was also an abandoned baby with no father or mother. He was abandoned at the gate of George Muller's church orphanage, and there was a note with his name in his basket.

After the old Watson became an adult, he worked as a handyman on the street, and finally, with his blood 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 set foot on the front line, he was shocked by the roar of artillery fire and the bloody battlefield, his whole body trembled, his mind was turbulent, and he lost his soul.

When he stood 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.

New Watson once had service experience in another timeline in the future, which was restricted by the confidentiality treaty and could not be disclosed. He had a higher ability to withstand the cruelty of war. survived the war without incident.

Until the later stage of the war, when Watson led the team to clear the battlefield, he was attacked by the enemy troops who had ambushed in advance. The cumbersome Jezer musket of the Fulstein was rare and accurate, hitting his knee and shoulder like a god.

He immediately rolled off his horse.

If the orderly Murray hadn't rescued him in time, grabbed him on horseback, and transported him safely back to the rear base, Watson might have already fallen into the hands of the cruel Gaji Sect soldiers and became a trophy to show off in the exhibition.

One of the two bullets shattered his shoulder blade and grazed the subclavian artery; the other shattered his right tibia.

The pain knocked Watson out of shape, and his exuberant vitality was lost along the wound, as if an invisible hungry ghost took away his energy. He became weaker and weaker, and his body gradually became emaciated.

Watson was forced to be transferred to the hospital behind Peshawar for recuperation. The wound on his shoulder had already healed, but due to the backward medical conditions at that time, his right foot had sequelae after all. When he stepped on the ground, he seemed to be stepping on it. On the empty clouds, I can't exert myself, and I can't even complete the daily training.

The doctor was also unable to give an exact diagnosis and treatment plan, and could only judge it as an intractable disease, and advised him to rest well.

Watson did not see any improvement after more than a month of recuperation. 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 from the hemisphere, where an unprecedented change was brewing. He is now a white-skinned and yellow-hearted egg man, and he does not think he has the courage to stand up in his hometown due to the differences in races. Foot, turned around and set foot on the cruise ship back to the island.

"Hey! John, where do you live? Why don't you go back with me in the family 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 he had never been in the same trench, he had met in the rear camp. He can barely be called a half-comrade in arms, and he can be regarded as a relatively easy-to-talk friend on the way home.

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

"Then I recommend you to go to Strand Street, which is next to the river bank, with convenient transportation and reasonable price."

"Looks like a good suggestion."

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

Little Stanford's enthusiasm made it difficult for Watson to refuse. He waved his hand to reject the hand of the servant who came to pick up the luggage, and insisted on carrying it by himself.

In addition to the burly domestic servant with suitcases, his mother and sister greeted little Stanford. The whole family has a standard Caucasian appearance, with flaxen slightly curly hair, narrow and long face and high nose bridge, but all facial features. handsome.

The carriage of Little Stanford's family is really spacious, and it won't look crowded when four people are seated. The cushions are soft and comfortable that cannot be compared with train seats.

The carriage slowly passed through the streets of London. This was the first time Watson had witnessed this industrial city since he was a freshman. Although he inherited the memory of his original body, it was obtained from other people's senses, just like a roll of mottled film. The film is full of unreality.

He was as curious as Grandma Liu who had just entered the Grand View Garden. He turned 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 mixed styles.

The industrial revolution made a lot of new products such as glass and steel frames, which led to the emergence of majestic buildings with large spans. The walls are made of artistic patterns made of bricks and stones of various colors. The fusion of new industrial materials presents a diverse city.

But the pedestrians seen along the way are not as vibrant as this booming city. Most of them are frowning, and the hardships of life are portrayed on their faces.

On the way, little Stanford kept talking about his adventures in the army, which caused his mother and sister to scream, and would drag Watson to join in the chat from time to time.

At first Watson had enough energy to reply, but gradually he got tired of it. He is not the kind of guy who is eloquent and likes to share himself with outsiders.

But Stanford Jr. seems to like to carry him along in the conversation, perhaps trying to use his affirmation to strengthen the authenticity of the story.

Watson can only act as a ruthless response machine, nodding his head frequently and saying yes, you are right, that time was really thrilling.

When the carriage reached the river bank, the story of Little Stanford hadn't been finished yet, but he didn't forget about his comrades-in-arms. He knocked on the inner wall of the carriage and shouted to the servant driving the carriage: "Claude, look for a home nearby." Affordable hotels with a nice environment stopped, and my friend hasn't found a place to stay yet."

"Yes, sir."

Little Stanford, who had finished ordering his servants, turned to Watson and asked, "John, do you want to come out for a drink tomorrow?"

"No problem, just tell me a place, and I'll be there on time."

Watson also has his own considerations. Although he got a considerable income after retiring from the army, which is enough for him to live comfortably for a period of time, he is deeply influenced by the Eastern hardworking thinking, and he is not willing to sit on the mountain and eat nothing. Find a suitable job in London.

He was originally an orphan, and his experience in connections was shallow, so he probably couldn't find any suitable jobs.

And the little Stanford, who is clearly born wealthy, can obviously help him a lot in his job search.

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

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

Little Stanford and Watson looked out of the car at the same time. There was a small hotel next to the place where they parked. It seemed that it hadn’t been long since it was newly built. It's not luxurious, but it's concise and clean. The point is that the price on the sign in front of the door is 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 rough, but he had already said so much, and it was inconvenient for him to say more, "Then at eleven o'clock tomorrow, I will ask Claude to come and pick you up."

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

After finishing speaking, Watson walked straight out of the car, declined Victor's help, took the luggage from the car by himself, stood where he was and waved goodbye to the carriage that was gradually going away.

After leaving, Elizabeth Stanford, who had always maintained a dignified smile due to the tutoring she had received since she was a child, immediately collapsed and looked out the window with a look of disgust.

A trash hotel without a doorman, a dirty and noisy environment, and that crippled soldier with a stinking face along the way... Thinking of this, Elizabeth Stanford couldn't help showing a bit of sullenness on her face.

She preached to her younger brother and shouted: "Lelan, stop associating with these shabby poor people! An orphan born in the Eastern District has no power and no power. He will hardly get rid of his inferior status in the future. He is not worthy of being friends with us! "

Facing his sister's philistine 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 recalling, his face suddenly showed a trace of longing and admiration.

"Watson is a buried war hero. He is known locally in Fulstein as the 'Goshawk of the Berkshire Brigade'. He went deep into the enemy's rear to rescue dozens of his captured comrades; Attack, kill and injure hundreds of enemies..."

"If it weren't for Watson's disobeying military orders and beating his superiors, his achievements would be enough to win a Queen's Cross!"

　The worldview of this book is based on a niche game - Esoteric Cult Simulator.

　　Chasing taboo treasures and summoning different gods, following creeds and creating esoteric religion.

　　
　
(End of this chapter)