Sir Knollys sat down, his bunk squeaked. That girl was barely older than his own daughter was when she’d passed away. A few weeks at most. And yet… ‘She was thrown into poverty, homelessness, hunger, and war, all in that order. Now we go and yank her from that and throw her to a country that, how did she say it? Spent two years trying to kill her? She may look scary on the outside… hard. She’s grown hard. She had to in order to survive… we had a hand in that. But there’s got to be a little girl inside there still that just wants to play with kittens and dolls and grow up slow…’
A private resolution grew within the man. She was the last living heir. That made her a target. ‘Populist trash will see getting rid of her as an easy way to get rid of the monarchy. To imitate the Bolsheviks and what they did to the Romanovs.’
In a way, whether he liked it or not, by the time his shoes were off and he was laying down on the squeaky, too thin mattress of the ship, the reality was that her hard years might help prepare her for what hazards she might face. ‘God save the late Queen, but she was far too myopic about virtually everything. She wanted what she wanted when she wanted it and how, and if the world didn’t abide by her wishes, she didn’t want to hear it.’ It was almost blasphemous to criticize her, even with her deceased.
But those who died fighting the Boers over gold were not less dead because she didn’t wish to hear of defeat.
Whatever Tanya was? ‘I don’t get the feeling she’s ever had the luxury of being myopic.’ That was a failing of the rich who could afford it. The poor and the desperate that tried to be, tended to die or learn fast to correct themselves.
A pang of guilt kept him awake a little longer, but the emotional and mental exhaustion, not to mention the unusual amount of physical effort involved in rushing from place to place on a tight schedule all conspired to bring down his eyelids, and sleep finally had its victory.
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Visha clasped her hands together and sucked in her breath in awe. ‘She’s so pretty! It’s so hard to believe she’s also the scariest person I’ve ever met!’ Tanya was standing in front of her with a faint bit of lipstick on her lips and some blush to her cheeks. For clothing she wore a black dress, the front of which had a leg wide strip of red ruffles down the middle that stopped just above her ankles. On her head she wore, rather than a helmet or officer’s cap, a side canted wide brimmed hat with an Albion Rose in the center.
“Is this really the best we could do?” I asked. “It’s not practical.”
“Major! It’s very practical for what you’re going to be doing.” Visha urged me, “You’re going to be meeting a lot of people, the dress flows nicely, you won’t have your leg movement restricted, the sleeves are tight so nothing will get caught, I know it’s a bit bigger than you’re used to, but it’ll make a good impression.”
“Easy for you to say.” I said and looked Visha up and down. My new ‘lady-in-waiting’ wore a very practical servant’s travel attire, it was a dress in name only, being cut at the sides and with no extra fabric at all, it was almost as practical as pants. It even had pockets at the hip to hold small items.
“I miss pockets already.” I groused. I couldn’t resist taunting her comfort a little bit, so I smiled and said, “Though I suppose a lady-in-waiting is kind of a mobile pocket.” It wasn’t much of a joke, but she always seemed to find me funny enough.
“Heh-heh-heha…” Visha laughed at my joke and had that same shaky smile she always did. I don’t know why she found me so funny, or why her laugh was so strange. Or her smile either. But it was at least nice to be a little bit appreciated.
“I suppose, Major, but please, try to smile. Be friendly, give them a big speech about peace and how nice it is to meet them all.” Visha gave me the best advice she could think of, and that was something I was glad about. Good advice is hard to come by.
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I considered what she had to say, in part because I trusted that she usually had some pretty good ideas, and this one, even if it included this soul crushing indignity of a dress, lipstick, makeup… well, it was now just part of the job.
“You may have a point. I’m going to live there, after all. I need to make a good first impression, and they’re not soldiers, at least not most of them.” I said, albeit reluctantly, and she sighed like she’d been holding her breath. ‘And I do get to make a speech, I do enjoy that.’
It wasn’t a clean win, but I’d take it. The port was fast approaching, and I had no more time remaining, whatever happened from here, happened, and I’d have no choice but to respond to it.
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The Prime Minister quietly read the afternoon paper while he waited on the pier. The afternoon rag included the information about the arrival of the next Queen of the Commonwealth. Ideally, he’d wanted to put off any notification of her arrival until she was already present, or at least not put out the information on where she would be docking.
But when it came to newspapers, well, they were a feisty bunch, very persistent, and somehow, some way, they’d gotten the information and published it in the afternoon edition.
And the predictable result was behind him. The pier had to be roped off using a borrowed seaman’s rope that was as big around as his waist, the sort used to hold heavy ships in place. The crowd was kept from crossing further by a line of uniformed soldiers holding bayonet tipped rifles with their backs toward the water.
His intention to quietly welcome her, brief her, and then arrange for a public introduction was thrown right out the window. The crowd’s voice began to rumble, and he could clearly see why.
The ship was closing in, and with it, the small battleships of the Empire which served as an impromptu honor guard. They may have hung back, but their guns could reach the coast of the Commonwealth, they could obliterate the crowd, if they wished. He knew the notion was nonsense. But that didn’t mean everybody did.
The nervous sound of feet stepping back and a suspicious growl, almost animalistic, wasn’t far behind. But only the Commonwealth vessel docked, rocking back and forth, nothing happened for several minutes beyond the sailors securing the ship. David stood, setting aside his paper, he’d just been getting to the part where Churbull condemned the decision to bring a viper to the breast of the Commonwealth… ‘Predictable. Very predictable.’ David mused and approached, walking over the long stone pier, he stopped where the gangplank joined it with the ship.
The first to descend was Sir Knolly, he gave a polite half bow and extended his hand, which the Prime Minister quickly shook. “Welcome home, I hate to skip the formalities, but as you can see…” He tilted his head toward the mob. The motorcar was parked on the street on the opposite side of the gathered crowd.
“Right. Well she’s right behind me, oh…” He stopped and looked over his shoulder, Tanya was indeed there, but staring out over the mob. “She must be nervous.”
Before the Prime Minister could comment, he saw the faint glow of magic in her hands as she touched her throat. “People of the Commonwealth-”
“A projection spell? I shouldn’t be surprised but-” The Prime Minister was indeed surprised, and faintly panicked, what if she said the wrong thing?!
“I assure you, the ships that have come with me, are an honor guard, nothing more. I now grant them permission to depart. I know you’ve come here to greet me, to see something, someone, you never expected to even know existed. You haven’t come to do any harm. But this is as new to me, as it is to you. You came here because you worry for the future of your country. But if this young girl could ask one small thing of you, and call upon the famous good manners of Albion, please allow me to pass. And let me invite all of you who have come here today, to appear at my coronation instead. To hear what I have to say, first hand.”
With that, the Prime Minister watched her step away, and head for the gangplank.
“This is… going to be an interesting start.” It wasn’t really saying much, but it was all the Prime Minister could think to say. “Sir Knollys, do as she said, assuming nobody gets in our way, take the names and addresses of everyone here, and invite them to the coronation.
“Sir… that’s reserved for, no… no you’re right.” Sir Knolly’s lips closed and tightened as they did, “It’s Her Majesty’s first order, and given the circumstances… it is a good one.”