“So you found her?” Prime Minister David Lloyd George asked, his voice tinged with shock and disbelief, it was with relief that he sat down, in fact it would be fair to say he flopped into his chair as he no longer had the strength to stand when his knees began to shake. He reached for a cloth and began to wipe the sweat from his brow.

On the desk in his office where he sat by himself, a newspaper headline showed a photo of Winston Churbull shouting to a rowdy crowd. The headline, “Churbull declares ‘Blood Before Defeat!’ on Armistice with Empire” stood out in a large, bold font.

“Warmongering fool.” David grumbled under his breath while he listened to Sir Knollys go on about how they found the lost heir. It was thorough, a proper job for a man of Albion. Sorting through hundreds of orphans born around that time in Berun, narrowing down the birth by months, narrowing it down to magic users, narrowing it down to blood… “So she even looks something like him? That’s a plus. It’ll help people accept her. Just hurry back soon, I’m going to officially announce the deaths today, and that we’ve found a living heir.”

“Not to worry, Sir Knollys, I’ll give it a nice romantic spin. Something so sweet that even the mad dog Churbull will let out a little ‘awww’ for it.” David laughed at his insult toward the ‘sort of’ colleague.

It was good for his heart to be able to laugh.

“Wait… what?” He listened as Sir Knollys explained that ‘Tanya Degurechaff’ was in fact the ‘White Silver’ or ‘The Devil of the Rhine’ that had given them… and all the other mages, so much trouble.

‘That shouldn’t be surprising, he did have abundant magic, she probably inherited it from him. Magic does seem to come primarily through the line of fathers… if the theorists are to be believed. So we created the weapon they used against us. Maybe I can even pin this on Churbull. If he hadn’t been whipping up tensions when he did, she might have been brought back to the Commonwealth.’ He thought to himself, the press loved speculation of that sort.

One more thing to spin, but it was no worse than anything else. ‘If I play it right, she might even be an asset, something soldiers can admire.’

It wouldn’t be impossible, but it wouldn’t be easy either.

‘I can already see Winston declaring we’ve brought a viper to the breast of the Commonwealth.’ The Prime Minister pinched the bridge of his nose as he listened with only half an ear to the explanations of Sir Knollys.

And when it was over and done, he said again, “Thank you for your hard work on behalf of the Empire of the Commonwealth. Bring her home as fast as you are able, and we can end this blasted war with minimal effort. I’m sure Parliament will be happy with such a trivial condition, I daresay even the Army will like it. Nobody is eager to die for the Republic.”

The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

With that, he hung up, and went to go address the nation.

----------------------------------------

Winston Churbull, Secretary of the House of Populii, heard the voice of the windbag Prime Minister come on the radio. “Turn it up, Charles.” He asked of his bartender.

The voice went louder.

“I reluctantly, and with great sorrow, inform you all today that the search for any surviving members of the royal family from the tragedy of the Hindenburg has failed. We have recovered nothing else but bodies. Identifying the remains to ensure they are properly laid to rest will take several more days. However, we have identified the Queen, and all of her children are accounted for. But… the monarchy is not dead.”

Winston Churbull’s ass tightened up when he heard those final words, ‘What?!’

“Years ago, before the tensions with the Empire rose to levels that left us unable to peacefully visit, Prince Alfred had an affair with a woman of the Empire. It was ongoing, passionate, full of fire, as vigorous as the man himself… apparently it went on frequently, every trip to the Empire he made, he would visit her bed, and she, out of love for our Prince, fearing that she would shame or disgrace him by daring to love a man so far beyond her station, abided in painful, but dignified silence as the world spun out of control. She conceived a child by him, and birthed it in secret. This was confirmed by the family doctor, in whom the Prince confided often, and by his own journals, in which he wrote of his anguish that he couldn’t see his only child because the world and its cruelty got in the way!”

“Sadly, she wouldn’t live to see him again. She turned her child over to a nearby orphanage, and gave their infant the name, ‘Degurechaff’ the name the Prince would travel under when he wanted to remain unobserved and unnoticed. Their daughter, Tanya, is even as I speak, on the way here from the Empire. They have been our enemies, it is true. But enemies in politics, not in person. For the sake of future peace between our countries, as a measure of conciliation, that our two Empires may long endure in harmony, they are restoring the monarchy to its proper place. The Queen is dead. Long live the Queen!”

The radio cut out, and Winston took a shot of cognac. “Barmy! They’re bringing a viper to the breast of the Commonwealth?! It’s got to be a sham! An Empire plot!”

He tried to stand, but swayed on his stool until Charlie approached and put a hand on his shoulder, pressing him down into the seat. “Easy there, Winston. Easy there. Listen, you need to sober up a bit before you can skive on out of here and go off half cocked. She’s not here yet, and you need to think of a right proper thing to say about it.”

“Ah… aye, you’re right… you’re right.” Winston realized. Charlie, a slender figure that was more beanpole than man, ran the Donovan Bar, a conveniently placed establishment with crackling fireplaces, hot food, and all the Secretary’s favorite liquors. He was the only man in the Commonwealth who was on a first name basis with the whole of the House of Populii and most of the House of Lords. If anything could rattle the man, it hadn’t been found yet.

And he was one of the few that could get Winston to settle down before he got going.

“Give it about three hours, and I’ll give you some water with gas to settle you until you’re sober enough to go on a tirade.” Charlie promised, and slid the carbonated water over the slick brown surface of the bar before Winston could agree or not.

As he usually did, Winston accepted the drink as soon as it touched his hand, and settled in to wait before he could raise hell again.