You hate teaching.
But you love being the arbiter of fact and fiction. Centuries ago, long before “fake news” became a talking point, you were curating what should be taught at Cambridge and Oxford as Vice-Chancellor of these institutions. You had near unchecked power over curriculum, funding and staffing.
You understood the immense responsibility and privilege you had over molding the minds of generations of graduates, researchers and faculty. For a time, you carried the torch of knowledge with dignity and honour.
The Industrial Revolution changed that. Young bright leaders rose from the ranks of academia with fresh revolutionary ideas that were going to rejuvenate learning and take Britain into the next century.
“Education for all social classes!” “In with Science, out with Classics!” “Replace Greek language studies with French!”
You were appalled with their youthful buffoonery. But the writing was there on the wall. You were a relic of the past, an impediment to progress.
You did not go quietly… Instead, you leveraged a fearsome network of alumni in the halls of Westminster. You hit back, discrediting these upstarts, terminating their tenure and saving your beloved classics. But the struggle changed you.
You sacrificed your principles and your new university policies marched in step with your political masters.
You remained as Chancellor till you “died” alone at the ripe old age of 66.
A vampire from clan Tremere came to you with an irresistible offer a year before. A new world, a network of British colonies was opening up in Asia, and there was an opportunity for a scholar like you to mold the minds of entirely new colonies that would come under the authority of the British Crown.
It was up to you to decide what these natives were allowed to learn.
How could you say no to such power?