Chapter Eighteen: The Enthusiasm of the English Nobility

Sun Li stood on the deck, gazing at the bustling scene of Plymouth, the greatest port of the English Empire. The prosperity here was not the modern kind found on Earth, with its neat and spacious avenues; in this era, prosperity simply meant the presence of crowds. Having grown accustomed to the sparse, wide-open villages of Mexico, the throngs at Plymouth created an illusion of ‘congested bustle.’

Somehow, word of Sun Li’s arrival had spread, and as he disembarked, the dock was further swollen by a parade of lavish carriages, making the already crowded port even more cramped. Numerous noble stewards and gentlemen approached, each inviting Sun Li to dine or visit their estates. Sun Li, bewildered, looked at these noble attendants, wondering how he had suddenly become so popular.

In Mexico, due to a strained relationship with the Governor, the local elite and gentry kept their distance from Sun Li. But in the heart of England, these nobles cared little for the opinions of a distant governor; befriending a Grand Knight was a matter of immense prestige—in every sense of the word.

Sun Li clearly failed to grasp just how sought-after Grand Knights, these ‘invulnerable’ beings, were in this world. In war, assassination, defense—anything related to combat—having a Grand Knight’s help made everything far easier. This was why that scoundrel Amaska, though hunted by the Church of Light, could still lord it over the New World as a tyrant. Power brought reverence wherever one went.

Yet the world’s magic elements were gradually fading, making the path to Grand Knight ever harder. Aside from Sun Li’s extraordinary abilities, every Grand Knight was a relic from decades or even centuries past, with lifespans averaging over two hundred years.

Perhaps due to humanity’s aptitude for training, since the age of knights, Grand Knights had always outnumbered those of other races—until the rise of the Dwarven Empire. With clever tactics and advanced firearms, the dwarves slaughtered Grand Knights from all races, leaving scarcely one in ten alive. The Dwarven Emperor brooked no such dangerous adversaries.

Now, all Grand Knights on the continent were those who had trained anew after the Dwarven Empire’s downfall. In recent decades, it seemed the magical elements had dropped to a critical level—no new Grand Knights had emerged. Their identity became ever more precious. Had the Holy Knights not shattered England’s thirty-thousand-strong army in a single blow, Grand Knights might have faded into legend.

Thanks to the Holy Knights, Sun Li’s worth in England soared. The Empire’s greatest enemies were those monstrous Protectors of the Faith. A lone Grand Knight was not so terrifying, but combined with legions of fervent followers, they became truly dreadful.

Confronted by these excessive displays of enthusiasm—even nobles introducing their daughters—Sun Li found this more headache-inducing than directing a battle. Not wishing to offend, he simply slipped away with his superior agility. The ordinary stewards and attendants could not hope to keep up, and could only gaze in frustration at his vanished figure, wondering how to explain Sun Li’s ‘disappearance’ to their masters.

With the help of Imperial Secret Service agents, Sun Li found a secluded inn for lodging. In this era, without photographs or such, no one would recognize this young man as the famed Grand Knight Sun Li unless warned in advance.

Once freed from the port’s fervent crowds, Sun Li finally felt some ease. Yet, wandering the streets of Plymouth did little to lift his spirits. In just an hour he encountered four ‘falling from the sky’ incidents; from the scent alone, he knew exactly what had landed. Did these English people really empty their chamber pots out the window? It was utterly disgusting.

After walking the city for a while, Sun Li’s evaluation was blunt: dirty, chaotic, and shabby. Was this the metropolis of a powerful European nation? Aside from a larger population and more factories, it could not compare to his own capital. Nearly struck by filth from above, Sun Li dared not stroll the streets any longer. If not for his quick reflexes, he’d have nowhere to vent his outrage. The outside was simply too hazardous, with filth raining down everywhere.

Once settled at the inn, no one came to ‘disturb’ him further. The next day, Sun Li congratulated himself on his cleverness, having evaded those noble invitations and shed much trouble. He didn’t consider that, had someone not intervened, the nobles would surely have tracked down any outsider’s lodging on their own turf.

Sure enough, just after breakfast, a tall, impeccably dressed noble servant arrived, respectfully presenting Sun Li with an invitation. The Duke of Norman, he said, requested an audience, and a carriage stood ready to depart at any moment.

Sun Li, ever averse to hassle, paid no heed to this so-called duke, and delayed his reply. He sent a Secret Service agent to investigate the Duke of Norman’s background. Knowing he’d been found, Sun Li realized the day would bring only this single invitation—someone had clearly ‘helped’ by blocking the other pests. Out of caution, Sun Li was curious to see just how powerful this force was.

Within half a day, the agent returned. The Duke of Norman was a prominent figure; information was easy to obtain.

Yet the news startled Sun Li. The Duke’s title was only the surface. The Norman family was an industrial colossus that had risen in England over recent decades. More than half the factories in the empire were firmly under their control, and most parliamentarians were entangled with their interests. Frankly, the Duke of Norman’s word carried more weight than the Emperor’s. They were both a leading representative of the new capitalists and an old aristocratic house. Since the Industrial Revolution, they had been pivotal in England’s affairs. The current Duke, inheriting young, had displayed astonishing talent in politics and economics from early on. Upon succession, he expanded the family business severalfold through shrewd commercial means, and used financial leverage to dominate parliamentary discourse. The Duke of Norman was, in effect, half an English emperor—and a real power-wielder at that.

Sun Li was not surprised by such a powerful manipulator lurking in the shadows. Which strong capitalist nation lacked monopolistic clans? The Duke of Norman, born to nobility, had simply integrated feudal and capitalist forces more effectively—a grand oligarch capable of steering the government.

But when Sun Li saw the signature on the invitation, his expression abruptly grew strange.