“A prime opportunity missed, that’s what it was.” Winston Churbull snapped in the quiet strategy meeting. Around the table were other men of note, the leaders of various popular groups of select interests. They were ‘populists’ for the most part, or ‘nationalists’ by another term. At least one represented the land interests in Ireland. That one in particular left a bad taste in his mouth. ‘If the Irish didn’t have so much trouble being English, the whole affair would be a great deal easier to manage. Home rule support and independence do not go as hand in hand as anyone thinks.’ The Irish question was a headache for Churbull, one he managed with violence in establishing the northern and southern states of the region.

But by the same token… ‘Their support for us in the war was all but nonexistent, they’re as apt to stab me in the back for home rule as a rattlesnake is to bite the foot that steps too close.’

And that… that wasn’t something that pleased him in the least.

Churbull looked at the nodding heads around the table, his words had not prompted any useful ‘vocal’ response, so he went on. “If we could have gotten more notice, we could have planned something bigger. Imagine, an Empire mole at the highest levels of government. They really think we’ll sit idly by… it’s madness!”

He recalled the arrival the previous day, Empire ships on the coast, and the Prime Minister himself appearing to greet her. The mob had not reacted nearly as violently as Churbull hoped. ‘She’s only a young girl.’ He looked down at the photo, the first one of its kind, of the woman and her Lady-in-Waiting. Woman? No. ‘Child. Perhaps one good scare could send her home.’

That didn’t exactly comfort him. ‘Even so. For Albion, our Island…’ He told himself, “Tell me something, how are the Irish reacting?”

“They danced in the streets at the death of the royal family.” Atur Griff, answered, his thick dark mustache twitched with discomfort, there was no use lying about it. The English weren’t popular in Ireland and everybody knew it. Churbull’s own ability to work there at all hinged on his handful of familial connections to the island and his stated support for home rule.

“Do you think a little scare can be arranged for the coronation?” Churbull asked, “Something that might send the girl home?”

“I can ask somebody who can ask somebody… but after that, it’s out of my hands.” Artur answered.

Churbull knew what that meant. Violence in the two state establishment of Ireland had gotten bloody, and he’d kept his own hands ‘gloved’ to keep them from getting dirty in the goings on there. ‘Whether it appeals to me or not, it must be done. For Albion and the Commonwealth. We will crush this Empire plot!’

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“I will live.” Pruss repeated the words again and again and again. But he didn’t really believe them. Not really. Neither did the doctors. They looked at him with casual pity, the sort most medical practitioners had when they knew somebody was not long for the world, no matter their resolve.

Not until ‘the dream’.

“You will live, child. You will live. But the price of your life is the service of my will. I am the Lord thy God. And I command you… slay the devil on the throne…”

“But Lord…” Pruss’s eyes were wide with disbelief as he stared up at the mass of whorling lights, “I am just a ship captain. I’m not a soldier, not a warrior…”

“You are a warrior of god now, my son. I bestow on thee, the power to strike down the devil before she takes the throne of your country. Strike her down, in my Holy name.”

“But I’m dying… I can see it in their eyes when they look at me, I’m not long for the world, I will be returning to you soon…”

“Not for long. When you awaken, your healing will begin in earnest, and when you stand again, you need only pray to your Heavenly father, and the power I give unto you will awaken, just as you are awakening, right now.”

Pruss’s eyes flew open, the vision was gone. ‘A dream?’ He wondered. The morphine they’d been giving him kept the worst pain at bay, it was fairly obvious that they were using more than strictly needed. ‘How long have I been asleep?’ He wondered. Had it all been a nightmare?

“Doctor?! He’s awake!” A nurse shouted from the door, her eyes wide with disbelief, she dropped her metal tray and its contents, pills and instruments, scattered across the floor, the clatter, or her shout, either one would have caught the attention of those close by, and as it happened, when Pruss looked to the curtain on his right, he saw the shadowy silhouette of a man treating another patient.

The curtain was yanked open, the noise of metal scratching metal filled the air as the doctor approached. “Captain Pruss, you’re awake!”

“Yes…” Captain Pruss’s lips felt chapped, cracked, and an overwhelming thirst came over him. “Water… can I have some water…”

“Nurse! Get the man some water!” He shouted, interrupting her half frenzied effort at gathering the fallen items.

Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

“At once, doctor!” She shouted and scrambled to her feet to retrieve a glass.

“What… what happened?” Pruss asked, “Did they…?”

The doctor came over and slipped a weathered hand into the palm of his patient. “Don’t worry about that now. You’re alive, you’ve been unconscious since we found you. We still don’t know what caused the Hindenburg to go down, but… can you tell us anything?”

“There was… a fire. A fire somewhere, it started from the back of the ship, we tilted to the rear, I held on to the wheel and tried to… I tried my best.” Captain Pruss smacked his lips, moving them as if to speak, with no luck for several seconds. “I- then we started to tilt down, heavy, the ship was too heavy, I couldn’t keep it level. Screaming, so much screaming. So much death. I could smell the burning flesh, theirs… then mine. The wheel came off, I hit the water… then… nothing. I thought I woke up here sometimes… but that must have been a dream. Just a dream…” He blinked back tears in his eyes.

“It’s a miracle you’re alive at all, thank God for that.” His Doctor said and patted his hand.

“Yes. A miracle. Divine intervention…” The Captain answered and closed his eyes. “God, thank you for sparing your servant, and not drowning me in your bowl of wrath… however I may serve thee, my life, from now until its end, belongs to you. To be your sword and strike down your every foe.” Captain Pruss prayed with fervor, and the response in his body… was instant.

Power surged through his flesh and his many wounds, slowly, gradually, began to heal.

“A true miracle…” The doctor gasped as the burns little by little, began to fade away.

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“Ma’am, this is… amazing.” Visha couldn’t really keep the smile from her face as they walked around their new home. The Great Palace of Birmingham was a marvel of luxury and refinement, with polished walls and floors so perfect in their shine that she could see herself in the stone. The paintings on the wall depicting the many royal figures who came and went in the time before, the ornate statues carved in the Remani-Greco style lined the walls… but more than that, Visha couldn’t help but be thrilled with her room.

A bed wider than her old quarters, with not one, not two, but three wardrobes filled with various types of clothing, for whatever she would be expected to accompany the Queen in doing.

Any one item in the room was worth more than six months of her salary even as an Imperial Officer.

“It’s impressive, Liu- no… I suppose I should just call you ‘Visha’ now, shouldn’t I?” I replied. “I suppose going round calling you by your military rank wouldn’t really look good.”

Visha blushed, “Ma’am, ah, should I call you ‘Your Majesty’ now?”

We were alone, so questions of this sort were the perfect ones to ask, I did give it some thought. “Ma’am would be easier. We’ve known each other for years now, it wouldn’t be strange for you to have a few liberties the rest don’t.” I looked around the room in which we presently stood. It was wider than any home I’d ever had, just the room itself, but there was also a pool, a tennis court, a vast garden with a high hedge maze, not to mention the library, the dining halls, the parlor, a small gym with what passed for modern equipment, guest quarters, its own kitchen, servants quarters and a staff of at least three dozen butlers and maids…

‘I did want to rise to the top… I just didn’t picture that ‘this’ would be it.’ I thought to myself, since my arrival the other day, the Prime Minister’s words were haunting me. I had not intended to form a new political party, but then again, if this world mirrored the old one… ‘Liberals and conservatives were divided on everything, this world’s Churchill is a rabid warhawk, the Irish are still struggling for home rule and don’t care for the English. The Empire of the Commonwealth isn’t that far from being completely dissolved. They still hold India here, but agitation around the world for independence is growing. The Republic losing its territory overseas will only make that worse.’ I did have to remember that not everything necessarily followed my own world’s history.

But that didn’t mean the challenges weren’t similar. In this one, the Empire stood triumphant, and this wasn’t the same as our World War I. In ours, the French held out, the Americans jumped in and took Berlin.

Here though, we defeated the ‘not French’ and our armistice was from a position of strength.

In short?

‘I’ve got luxury like I never dreamed, but I’m going to have to work to keep it, and I have no doubt that the Prime Minister was serious… a new political party might be needed after all. And this way I can build up my own coalition of allies. In my world, nobody was able to rein in Churchill until he wanted to rearm Germany and invade Russia in Operation Unthinkable. In this world, if we don’t get a handle on the populists?’ I put a hand unconsciously to my throat, royalty was in decline in this world, and the fate of royalty in decline was fairly consistent.

‘Being X, you’re an unmitigated bastard.’ I cursed as I realized more and more what I’d been thrown into.

“Ma’am, is everything alright?” Visha asked, she was bending forward to put herself on eye level with me.

“Yes, I was just thinking, we’ve got a lot of work ahead of us here.” I rubbed my chin and started to pace, my shoes clapped against the stone floor and Visha reflexively pulled out a pad and pen to write with, she knew well enough to always be prepared around me.

“I want to host a gathering, a… dinner party, yes. Right after the coronation. Or, no later than a day after. Have my staff organize newspapers and voting records in Parliament for the last five years, I want to know who has the strongest pro peace records, the strongest record on personal freedom, and the strongest records on the free market system. Cross reference that with anyone who is on the outs with their colleagues, and invite at least a dozen to the palace for dinner. Oh and, make sure you include the Prime Minister.” I gave the directions the same way I would give orders on the battlefield, which was only sensible.

After all, politics is just war in peacetime, just like war is just a form of aggressive politics.

“Ma’am, I’ll get started right away, will there be anything else?” Visha asked me, and a thought occurred to me. “Regardless of their affiliation, invite the Head of whatever passes for a social welfare organization in this country, and the headmasters of the most important universities in the city.”

“Yes ma’am, but the coronation is tomorrow, it might be difficult for people to-” She stopped talking, I don’t know why Visha was so panicky sometimes, if the phrase ‘cat got your tongue’ was true, she’d have every alley cat in the country following her around waiting for their turn with her.

“Yes?” I asked.

“Nothing! I’ll get right on it!” Visha answered, and scurried away as fast as her feet could carry her.

I looked around the great open hall with all its finery, “I’ve got my work cut out for me.” I said under my breath, “But it will be worth it.”