Chapter 38

Belfast, North Ireland

Wednesday, February 8th, 2051

Stormont Estate was much as I had left it: an architectural and landscaping work of art ruined by grim necessity. We were ushered through the checkpoint one at a time, just like when Mr. Maki and I had visited before. The process took longer with so many of us, of course.

I went through first, and there was an eyebrow raised about the ‘Sir’ on my ID.

“Oh, you’re that Magpie fella,” said the soldier, a black-haired man with a slight Irish accent. He waved a faintly glowing fabricata around me. “Heard about your fiancée. Real shame, that.”

“I appreciate your concern,” I said. “But, we all carry on.”

“For sure,” he said. “There’s a good pub not too far from the estate. I’ll buy you a pint sometime.”

“Looking forward to it.” With my new teammates, I’d need a good drink or three.

Having gone through first, I could watch the others get sorted through. The women tended to take longer to process, I noticed: likely because they didn’t have Japanese beauties like Mariko or Yukiko come through every day. They wanted to stretch the experience out.

Well, I couldn’t blame them, though I watched my friend from before like a hawk while he talked with Mariko. Promise of a free pint or no, it would be good for his health to keep things professional.

“Are we going to have to do this every time we go out?” asked Kiyo, who had been not-so-subtly shadowing me since our abrupt graduation ceremony.

I cursed my luck that we hadn’t had a moment to ourselves, because there was going to be a hard conversation.

“It seems like it,” I said. “Too many untrustworthy people out there.”

“Yeah,” she said, ignoring the bait. Now she didn’t even want to snipe at me? What was going on in her head?

“It’s becoming standard procedure for us wizards,” said Sergeant Lakhdar as she got through the line herself. “Maggie Edwards’ disguise magic tricks have everyone paranoid about wizards proving who they were.”

Once we were all deemed safe, we were shuttled over to a shorter bunker that hadn’t been there on my last visit. Dark Lord’s bones, they really could put these things up fast!

I hadn’t often gone inside the slapdash concrete structures. Unlike Heida’s cheap apartment in Little Korea, this building hadn’t been up long enough to accumulate any smells. There were hardly any decorations in the lobby except for a potted plant near one of the windows, a desperate attempt to make it seem homey.

We were greeted by Major Amanda Smythe, who had been talking with a pair of civilians about a delivery. As soon as we entered, she shooed them off and acknowledged us. Her uniform was well-pressed, but it seemed the camera had done her some favors. She looked awfully haggard, and there were more visible grey hairs and crow’s feet in person.

“Good morning, everyone,” she said, barely stifling a yawn. “Welcome to your new base of operations.” She patted a bare concrete wall. “It isn’t pretty, but maybe you all can do something about that? You have this building to yourselves for now, so settle in and make it home.”

“I know you’re strangers in a strange land, but that is the Wizard Corps experience. Your mission is to provide extra security and magical assistance to the United Kingdom’s government in exile. I’m sure you will all acquit yourselves admirably.”

The words were fine, but they were delivered flatly. It reminded me of Sergeant Lakhdar’s explanations of our new assignment back in Japan.

That struck me as strange; she had seemed so eager before. She hadn’t so much as cast an errant glance my way. Not that I wanted to be the center of attention, mind you, but I’d practically expected her to run up and give me a hug after our chat. Perhaps she was trying to look professional in front of the other privates?

Hold on; why did I care? If she didn’t want to engage with me and realize I wasn’t really Soren Marlowe, that was a blessing, not a mystery!

We were ordered to go choose our dorms, then return to the ground floor for further instructions. I suspected this was to give the sergeant time to set up her private residence on the ground floor.

Unpacking didn’t take long; those with more personal affects had been forced to make hard choices about what to bring. Most of Mariko’s small library was en route to a Wizard Corps storage depot back in Tokyo, as was Hiro’s American comic book collection.

As before, we were segregated by sex, with the men on the top of three floors and the women on the second. The concrete walls turned every sound into a ghostly echo as we settled in.

“Look at all of this space!” said Kowalski. “They could put twice as many of us in here.”

“Probably means they will, sooner than later,” I said. One of the curios I’d managed to sneak along was Kiyo’s scarf. I decided to wear it, even if it wasn’t quite uniform. There was symbolism in it that might help calm Kiyo, and it was small enough to fit in my black jacket’s pocket if I was told to stow it away.

Our Father Below, it was strange catching my reflection in one of the windows. The distorted image barely looked like me anymore. I really was one of them now.

Besides triggering another identity crisis, my glance out the window showed I had a perfect view of the King’s residence. They’d improved the concrete veneer enough that you’d almost think it was part of the estate’s original architecture. I doubted our home was going to get the same treatment.

We reformed downstairs. The others naturally formed in their new squads, and their chatter echoed through the whole space.

Squad Four was keeping their distance. Oh, Mariko had come right to me, naturally. Other squads were discussing the assignment, or speculating about what came next.

Mariko had something else on her mind. “Do you think they will give us any time off? I researched some tourist attractions on the plane, and Belfast Castle looked lovely.”

“I suspect we will at some point,” I said.

“Good,” she said. “Ever since I found out about you, I’ve been making a list of ‘firsts’ I want to share with you.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Firsts?”

She held up her phone and pulled up a notetaking app. “Here, let me know if you’ve tried any of these.”

I scrolled through. “Drink a Coca-Cola, eat a pizza, ride a horse, go to a movie… Well, I did that last one with Kiyo.”

Mariko took her phone back and handed it back. She had quickly appended, ‘with Mariko’ to that last one. (More accurately ‘woth Marika,’ but her condition wasn’t conducive to quick typing).

“Visit a zoo… you certainly have quite a list here.”

She nodded. “I always liked manga about alien boyfriends; it was fascinating to see an outside view on ordinary things. I think you’re as close as I am going to get.”

I couldn’t help but smile at her earnestness. “I hope not! If what I read online is right, they tend to probe on the first date.”

Mariko blushed as she took her phone back, though she chuckled, too. “You’re ridiculous.”

“It is what you signed up for, my dear,” I said, taking her hand.

“And I would do it a thousand times over,” she replied.

“Geeze, I think I see why I didn’t have a chance,” said Gabriella. We hadn’t noticed her approach; I did always find Ms. Yamada rather distracting. “You two are just sickeningly cute together.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” said Mariko, stepping to partially block me off from Gabriella.

“Sure, why not?” The raven-haired beauty raised her hands in surrender. “Look, I… I already promised Soren I’d lay off, but I guess I’m sorry to you, too.”

“I wasn’t expecting that,” said Mariko. “Not after you have avoided us for the last month, and you called Kasasagi a snitch!”

I patted Mariko’s back. “My dear, don’t be more offended than I am. We already talked it over before we left.”

Gabriella winced, her tan cheeks growing darker. “See, this is why I was sort of hoping we could get out of this platoon without seeing each other much. That didn’t happen, so it’s time to clear the air. I’m sorry.” She extended her hand.

I took it and gave it a forceful pump. “Apology accepted,” I said.

She shook her head, slipping out of my grip and trying again. “That was for Mariko. You got to kiss me twice and you forced me to apologize for it; I owe you nothing.” Her sly grin ruined the effect.

Mariko giggled as she took Gabriella’s hand and gave it a more genteel shake. “I forgive you… as long as you stay away from my Kasasagi.”

“Oh, no worries there,” she said, pointing at the cross symbol on Mariko’s blue beret. “I’m not going to piss off my medic! That’s how you get a third boob!”

We all shared a chuckle. “Well, I’m glad to have the best swordswoman in the unit at our side.”

She shook her head wistfully at that. “Just be ready to bail me out, best swordsman.”

Yukiko’s squad was the closest to ours, and I swear Hiro looked our way with an annoyed glare at her declaration. He went back to talking with Antoni and Kowalski in enthusiastic sounding Japanese, though.

Kiyo was orbiting our conversation, too. She wasn’t invisible in the conventional sense, but she had moved closer to observe us without making a sound.

“Come on over, Kiyo,” said Mariko. “It’s going to be great to see you more often.”

Kiyo’s eyes narrowed, but she stepped in a bit closer to us. “Y-yeah, sure.”

I didn’t care for the sounds of that, but the sergeant emerged from her office before I could press her further. “Quiet, everyone!” We obeyed, shifting to parade rest without having to be told. “I know you’ve all been awake for more than twenty-four hours at this point, but I need you to push through for one more job today.”

Despite her training, Gabriella let out an annoyed groan. I think the sergeant was in a forgiving mood, too, since she didn’t call attention to it.

“They’ve prepared a welcome party for us at the King’s residence,” she said. “Give each other a quick Spot Clean and make sure you’re all presentable. Grab a coffee or an energy drink if you have to. I won’t have you embarrassing yourselves your first time out as a unit.”

Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.

Sergeant Lakhdar knew our habits well, and she was already calling on Yukiko before she could raise her hand. “Your question, Private Sato?”

“Do they always throw a party when a new unit transfers in?” asked Yukiko.

There was a knowing twinkle in the sergeant’s eyes. “Welcome to the privileges of wizardhood. Now go and get ready.”

Finally, a real benefit to this job!

Chapter 39

“I was expecting a king’s castle to be grander,” said Gabriella as we made our way through King George’s residence.

“It’s a provisional castle, to be fair,” I said. “Though, unless I miss my guess, it’s the same layout as our barracks.”

There were a few differences, to be sure. He had an elevator, a necessity when the ailing King’s chambers were on the third floor. His place was also furnished, with proper carpeting and furniture. Still, it wasn’t particularly spacious; there was a reason they’d had to borrow that nameless billionaire’s mansion for my knighting. Hosting more than twenty wizards was already pushing things.

Our progress towards the second floor was stymied because some of us couldn’t stop looking at every little historical artifact.

“Soren, they have an original Jane Austen!” She pulled at my sleeve like an excited child and pointed at the tome, protected by a glass case. “How can you just walk by it?”

“I have been in here before,” I said.

Mariko’s eyes widened. “And you didn’t take a picture of it for me?”

“Was I supposed to? It isn’t even Pride and Prejudice.” I really didn’t understand the human culture around documenting every little thing with their smartphones. That’s what memory and journals were for.

“Yes! Sense and Sensibility wasn’t her best work, but still!” She just about pressed her face against the glass.

“Huh, that’s neat,” said Kiyo. She’d mostly stayed back from the rest of the squad on our walk over, but she came closer to inspect the artifact.

Gabriella crossed her arms under her chest, standing in front of a large painting next to the antique novel. “It seems wrong to have George Washington’s presidential portrait in the King of England’s house.”

Kiyo’s head snapped up and she dashed over next to Gabriella. “What? What the heck is that doing here?”

“Why should you be offended?” I asked. “You said yourself, your people were in Mexico at the time.”

“It’s the principle of the thing,” said Gabriella, casually brushing off my logical consistency. “Kiyo’s right, this should be in Hawaii or Puerto Rico. How’d he get it?”

I gently dragged Mariko away from her treasure and led my squad up the stairs. “You can ask him about it when you meet him. Now come along!”

Gabby smirked at that. “Afraid to look bad in front of your boss?”

“He isn’t my…” I trailed off. “Well, I suppose he is, in a sense. So yes, I am. Satisfied?”

“Very,” she replied.

We went into a long dining room that occupied the space of the men’s bunks in our barracks. That is where the similarities ended; where our space was an echo-filled concrete tomb, this bore more curios and treasures, including life-sized portraits of King George as a younger man and two women I suspected to be his deceased wives. The others had beaten us there and were already seated. A dull roar of conversation filled the room.

As soon as we entered, a well-dressed orderly ushered us towards the head of the table, where a familiar figure sat. There were a few servants flitting about, and a pair of Yeomen I recognized from before, but we wizards outnumbered everyone else. I caught sight of Sergeant Lakhdar and Major Smythe seated at the middle of the table. I noted the Major’s lack of interest when our eyes met.

I didn’t have long to contemplate that mystery as we were soon presented to a pallid King George. “Sir Marlowe!” he said, his hoarse voice full of cheer. “I’d wondered when you would show up.”

“Your Majesty,” I said, lowering myself to one knee and averting my eyes, like I had seen Mr. Maki do. I hadn’t had the chance to research royal protocol during my training, but I figured if it was good enough for the Divine Blade…

“I see you aren’t alone this time,” he said.

“Let me introduce Mariko Yamada, Kiyo Jones, and Gabrella Hernandez.” I looked back at my companions. The others seemed to hesitate a moment. They weren’t used to royal courts, after all. Mariko bent nearly double with a deep bow. Kiyo stood like a statue, her pale skin reddening. Gabriella looked between Mariko and I before settling on a shallow bow and a verbal hello.

King George raised an eyebrow.

“You’ll have to excuse them, sir,” I replied, turning to face him. “Private Jones and Hernandez are Americans.”

His eyes settled on the shocked Kiyo a moment, nodding knowingly. “Don’t tell me you’re still sore that we kicked you out of the Empire!”

The King’s joke broke the spell on Kiyo. “More like we kicked your butts back to…” Her already large eyes widened further. “W-wait, I didn’t… please don’t have me beheaded!”

Gabriella took a sideways step away from Kiyo.

King George’s hearty laughter turned into a raspy cough.

“Oh my!” Mariko was at his side even before his attendants managed it, which meant he shooed her away first.

“Don’t bother about it, I’m fine,” he said, his humor evaporating in an instant. He still took the draught his medic gave him, giving lie to his words. “Don’t worry, my dear; I’ll grant a stay of execution for the best laugh I’ve had this year.”

“Thanks?” she squeaked out, uncomfortable with the attention the King’s outburst had garnered.

He gestured towards the empty seats in front of him. “I saved the seats next to me for my knight and his squad mates. I didn’t realize they would all be so lovely.”

“You flatter us, sir,” said Mariko, taking a seat next to me at his right. Kiyo and Gabriella took the left, either not knowing or not caring about the symbolism.

Just as we sat down, King George rose to his feet, though he needed the cane to stay standing. Our superior officers followed suit, and we did the same shortly after. His voice quavered as he projected without a microphone, but everyone listened with rapt attention.

“I wish to extend a grateful welcome to everyone here,” he said. “I know it has been a long journey for you all. The government has been without magical protection for too long, and the members of Parliament and I will sleep easier knowing you are on the job. However, since most of you are not my countrymen,” he said, sparing Kiyo a quick glance, “I wish to make something exceptionally clear. I am not the government of the United Kingdom. You are not at my beck and call, and if it comes down to protecting me or the legislature, Parliament is supreme. Is that understood?”

Funny how he could sound so authoritative while claiming to have no authority. Besides, we were here in his residence because he beckoned us. I kept those thoughts to myself, though.

He sat back down. “Well, that’s quite enough about that. You’ve had a long flight. Eat and relax; the real work begins in the morning.”

*************

There is a reputation that English cooking is bland and tasteless. This stems from rationing during World War II, when German U-boats tried to sink anything carrying supplies to the embattled island. The locals had to get creative to stretch and combine their meager allotments.

The state of North Ireland in 2051 wasn’t much different. Sure, the Horde had no naval presence, but the supply chains were also longer. Iceland and Madagascar were the closest free lands of any size, and flights from the Far East weren’t efficient for hauling foodstuffs. The daily bread came on a slow boat from Australia, was harvested from the sea, or was done without.

The biggest difference was modern food technology. So, I can report that my plate was covered by frauds. The fish was likely real, but the sliced roast beef tasted off. It was likely made of plants or fish run through a battery of chemicals with names long enough to tongue-tie a pharmacist.

Kiyo had shown surprising initiative by asking the King about George Washington’s portrait, which turned out to be a long story. While he ran through a long preamble about his friendship with the current United States Remnant president, Roger Wilcox, I watched how our fellows tackled their artificial dinner.

The Japanese privates picked at their meals with less gusto. Yukiko in particular was making an effort to hide her distaste. Meanwhile, those from the little ethnic encampments, like Kowalski and Antoni, didn’t seem to notice the difference.

I was with Ms. Sato on that one. The Horde owned the breadbaskets of the world, and our lower tech base meant that everything was organic. This slop was tasteless by comparison. And to think, this is what they fed a king.

Another human invention came through in the clutch, though. Ketchup could cover up a lot of sins. I hate to sound like a stereotypical old man, but the younger generation doesn’t understand how desperate things were during those years.

Back to the mystery of the portrait. It seemed the King George and the future president had both been generals during NATO’s futile bid to stop the advancing Grim Horde in Canada.

“That was back when I was comfortably fifth in line for the throne, you see,” he said. “Back when I worked for a living. Roger was an up-and-comer with the American command, and we got on well. We took in more than our share of American refugees, and a lot of your national treasures came with them. We even had the Declaration of Independence, for a time.”

Gabriella sighed. “Bet they’re all lost now.”

King George seemed to be in good spirits; female company tended to do that. “Don’t be so quick to give up hope! We kept them in the British Museum so our American residents could remember where they were from. Those were some of the first artifacts we evacuated. Most of them are in a safehouse in Maui, but Roger insisted I keep the George Washington portrait for safekeeping. Lord knows why; he has a strange sense of humor.”

“It’s why I voted for him,” said Gabriella.

Another reason why democracy is a flawed system.

“Huh,” said Kiyo. “It feels like you’ve always been king. Didn’t really think about what you were doing before.”

He smirked at her. “You can’t be more than eighteen.”

Kiyo bristled at that; she had a bit of a complex about her short height and girlish figure, after all. “Twenty next month, sir.”

He nodded. “Either way, from your perspective, I always have been. A plane accident saw to that.” He was on a second glass of wine, earning him disapproving looks from his attendants. A sideways glance kept them at bay, though. “You know, some fools think I arranged that accident. They don’t know how much power I really gave up when I took the throne.”

“Ara,” said Mariko, looking self-conscious at the outburst. “Ah, that means ‘oh my’, Your Highness.”

“Some things translate themselves,” he replied.

King George was sharing an awful lot; I didn’t know if it was the female companionship or the wine, but I saw an opportunity. “You say you’re a figurehead,” I said, “but it seems to me that you’re rather good at getting your way.”

“How so?” he asked, raising his wine flute. An attendant rushed over and the vessel was full again before I could continue. “Oh, this? The doctors don’t like it, but I decide what goes in my body. It won’t kill me any faster.”

I shook my head. “Not that. Arranging to have us deployed to North Ireland so I’d be nearby.”

“My, aren’t we full of ourselves!” he said.

“I was wondering that, too,” said Mariko, coming to my defense. “It did seem like our training ended a bit early.” She added a lot of caveats, but she couldn’t keep the disapproval from her voice. “You knighted Kasasagi… um, Soren, so it would make sense.”

“I’ve told you just how little power I have,” he replied. “I only found out you’d be here three days ago.” He gestured at his plate. “It’s why we couldn’t scrounge up anything edible for you all.”

In vino veritas, as they say. I didn’t think he was lying, though he did protest too much about his influence. I hadn’t known him long, but he seemed to collect powerful friends who were eager to do him favors. As he’d told me himself, the illusion of authority is just as good as the real thing. I didn’t doubt that he could have done it.

Was it all a coincidence? That didn’t sit right with me, but there was nothing disproving it just yet.

There was one person I could ask, though I’d wanted to avoid her as long as I could.

I put it off a bit longer. King George was full of stories: service with the RAF in Iraq as a fighter pilot, little domestic stories about his second wife, Edith, and he tolerated a peppering of questions from the youngsters about life in pre-Horde England.

The audience was split; Mariko winced at the military exploits that Kiyo and Gabriella ate up, while those two were bored hearing about Edith’s addiction to collecting porcelain figures from some catalog I’d never heard of. Mariko had a couple of her own back at her parent’s home, a hobby she shared with her mother.

“Watch out for this one,” said King George, pointing Mariko’s way. “If she catches the bug, she’ll bankrupt you.”

“I’ll keep that in mind, sir,” I said, reaching out to give her a playful hug. “Though, I think she’d be worth debtor’s prison.”

“Oh, hush,” said Mariko, waving away my hand. “Not in front of the King.”

“My dad met you once, Your, uh, Highness,” blurted Kiyo, desperately trying to change the subject. “Well, didn’t meet you; you visited Okinawa for a conference, like, ten years ago and he saw you speak.”

“Is he with the US Remnant Military?”

She nodded. “Yessir. Captain of the USS Reconquest.”

He nodded. “You’re living up to your reputation, Private Jones.”

Her fork fell out of her hands, spattering a bit of gravy on her uniform. “R-reputation? Wh-what do you know about me?”

“That you fought the Holy Brotherhood three times and lived to tell the tale,” he said. “You featured prominently in Sir Marlowe’s background check.”

“Then how did he pass?” she asked. Her eyes widened and her hands shot up to cover her mouth.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” asked Gabriella.

King George finished off another flute of wine. “Yes, Sir Marlowe, what does that mean?”

“Kiyo’s got such a sense of humor,” I said. I gently nudged Kiyo under the table with my foot. “Isn’t that right, Kiyo?”

“Y-yeah, that’s it,” she said, her tone flat. “Inside joke, Your Highness.”

King George didn’t seem convinced, but then, he already knew I had skeletons in my closet. He seemed content to drop it, especially when he slumped back in his chair.

“A bit too much wine, I think,” he said, his voice slurred and his eyes dull. “Wouldn’t have even noticed four glasses a year ago…”

Mariko went to check his pulse, which she declared strong. “Well, strong given…” She trailed off, not wanting to call out his generally poor state.

Her ministrations caught the attention of his real medics, who helped him to his unsteady feet. Hiro rushed over too, though he could only look on helplessly.

“Is everything okay?” he asked in Japanese.

“No immediate danger,” I replied, finally standing up myself. It would be a stretch to call the sickly old man ‘okay’, after all. Some of the others followed Hiro’s lead, crowding around. The Yeomen interposed themselves between the wizards and their monarch. No weapons were drawn, but with their humorless faces, they didn’t need them to make everyone take a step back.

“I’ll pay for it in the morning,” said King George, pulling away from the attendants. Mariko was on hand to steady him as he staggered, and I was there to help. “But, that was a delightful evening with the servicemen. Well worth the price.”

“We’ll clear them out right away,” said one of the Yeomen.

“Don’t dream of it,” snapped King George, pointing at the gathered wizards. “They’ve come a long way to guard us. Don’t punish them for my lapse. Let them finish up.”

“Kiyo…” I started.

“I get it,” she said, unable to look at me. “S-sorry. Kinda forget we’re working together now.”

“We’ll talk later,” I said. I’d been putting it off for at least a month; what was a few more hours? After all, if King George hadn’t summoned us to the other side of the world, I knew one person who might have some answers.