Working as a police officer in Mexico-Chapter 1662 - 758: The World Really Is a Ragtag Troupe!
Capítulo 1662: Chapter 758: The World Really Is a Ragtag Troupe!
The news of Lord Williams’ death spread back to London like a boulder thrown into the calm surface of a lake.
Many people know how he died, but you definitely can’t say it like that.
Do you not care about saving face?
The Royal Family cares most about saving face!
After a brief shock and being caught off guard, Downing Street and Buckingham Palace quickly activated their crisis management and image-building machinery.
All official statements and mainstream newspapers, such as The Times, the Daily Telegraph, and The Guardian, unanimously portrayed Williams as a hero who sacrificed himself for the cause of freedom.
The Times published a dignified and sorrowful headline on its front page, along with a solemn photo of Williams in a suit in front of the Parliament Building:
“Sacrificed for Belief: Lord Williams Fell on a Savage Battlefield, a Hero Lost to the Free World.”
The article detailed the final moments of the Lord’s life:
“When the Mexican Army’s artillery mercilessly fell on the area where innocent civilians gathered, Lord Williams exhibited courage beyond that of a diplomat. He decisively rushed into the danger zone, organizing evacuations, and just after most civilians had safely withdrawn, a child who was separated from their parents ran in panic into an un-cleared area. At the critical moment, His Lordship unhesitatingly dashed forward, shielding the child tightly in his arms. However, a hidden land mine exploded under his feet.”
“The enormous blast blew the Lord away, but he used his body to create a final barrier for the child. When rescuers arrived, the child was only slightly injured under his protection, while our hero forever shed his blood on that land longing for freedom. He safely handed the child to his advisory colleagues, leaving his last smile, an immortal monument to the British Empire’s knightly spirit…”
This report was reprinted by countless media outlets, and Williams’ image quickly became magnified and radiant.
He was shaped into a perfect hero embodying humanitarian concern, self-sacrifice, and the classic knightly demeanor.
In the UK, people were in high spirits, and public patriotism and anger toward the ‘Northern Tyrant’ Victor were ignited.
Memorial marches were spontaneously organized across the nation, with people holding Williams’ photos and candles, shouting slogans like “Immortal Hero,” “Support the Alliance,” and “Condemn Mexico.”
The Royal Family announced a high-profile memorial event for Williams, and flags were flown at half-mast nationwide. For a time, Lord Williams became a household hero symbol across the British Isles, his “heroic sacrifice” undoubtedly providing ample moral justification and public support for the UK’s further involvement in North American affairs.
However, just as the atmosphere of tragedy and shared resentment reached its peak, a discordant note appeared.
The tabloid Insighter, known for digging up scandals and being unconventional, dropped a “bomb” on its front page during Williams’ memorial week in large bold letters:
“Royal Lies? Hero or Jinx? Lord Williams Possibly Died from Accidentally Triggering a Land Mine Due to Diarrhea!”
The article did not adopt the grand hero narrative of the mainstream media but instead quoted testimonies from “anonymous ad hoc team members” and “local witnessing soldiers” to detail what happened that day:
“According to multiple sources, His Lordship indeed suffered severe gastrointestinal discomfort during the inspection tour. On the way to the next stop, unable to endure the abdominal cramps and… um, gas, he ordered the convoy to stop in an uncleared area. He rushed into the roadside bushes, where it is believed he accidentally triggered a directional infantry mine or booby trap planted by Mexican infiltration troops during his relief. The explosion mainly affected his lower body, and the scene was… extremely horrific and indecent. The so-called ‘rescue of children’ story is purely a literary creation to maintain the face of the Royal Family and the government.”
Like a virus, this article quickly spread.
Initially, most citizens refused to believe it, dismissing it as “shameless slander” and “desecration of a sacrificed hero.”
But in a society where information flows freely, once seeds of doubt are sown, they’re hard to completely eradicate.
At a large-scale march in Central London mourning Williams, the atmosphere of reverence reached its peak.
As the organizer was leading the crowd in silent mourning, an emcee in a black suit was eloquently repeating the official version of the hero’s deeds. Suddenly, a young man squeezed into the crowd, tightly holding a freshly published copy of the Insighter, his face filled with confusion and disbelief.
“Wait! Is what it says here true?” The young man’s voice wasn’t loud but sounded particularly clear in the quiet intervals of the silent mourning. The people around him frowned.
“What’s real or not? Don’t disturb our mourning for the hero!” a middle-aged woman said discontentedly.
“But… this newspaper says… Lord Williams didn’t die saving a child,” the young man mustered the courage to raise his voice, “he… he had diarrhea, and while defecating in the bushes, he stepped on a land mine and was blown up!”
“Nonsense!”
“Dirty rumors!”
“Which paper sent you, you scoundrel?!”
The crowd became agitated, denouncing him.
But driven by curiosity, many people gathered around, scrambling for the newspaper. As more and more people saw the article’s details, including the Lord passing gas due to beans on the car and his urgent rush into the bushes, and the onsite soldiers’ speculations about the type of land mine, voices of doubt began to emerge.
