Prime Minister Lloyd George stood in front of the patient’s bed. He hated being in hospitals, even in the best hospital in the Commonwealth, the very idea of being around so much ‘disease’ was uncomfortable. As such, he wore gloves and refrained from touching anything for the duration of his visit. Captain Pruss was still asleep, though he’d been ‘kept’ that way through a combination of drugs and medical magic. “Is there any chance he will survive?” The Prime Minister asked.

“Some.” Dr. Smith answered, “Very little.”

“I see.” The Prime minister said and put his hand on the doctor’s shoulder, “I assume your establishment knows to notify me of any change?”

“Yes, of course.” Dr. Smith answered, “But if I can ask…” He leaned over in an almost conspiratorial way, “Have you… any?” He swallowed a lump in his throat with an audible gulp.

What he was asking about did not need clarification. In the three days since the accident ‘If it was an accident?’ the Prime Minister thought, they’d only found and identified the body of the Queen, while she’d drowned very quickly and had a head injury on the back of her skull, her clothing kept her body afloat. As for the rest? Some were too badly burned to be recognizable, and others were simply ‘missing’. Albert was identified by a ring on his finger, the children by their small sizes, though which was which was a mystery.

“That’s classified.” Lloyd said, but while his lips moved, his eyes said plenty. “The… remains will be here soon. Since you’re already involved, I want you to handle the rest, see if you can figure anything out. Whether we had a saboteur on board or not.

“Of course, Prime Minister.” Dr. Smith said, the Prime Minister was not a big man by any means, slender to medium stature and a short mustache that sat just below his nose, a face slowly going to fat as time went on, and graying hair. He looked and carried himself as a statesman, with strength and confidence even in the face of tragedy.

“That’s not the only reason I came here today, however.” He waved a hand toward the unfortunate Captain. “I understand you treated the late Prince some years ago.”

Dr. Smith gasped and took a step back, “Sir I-”

The Prime Minister held a finger up to his own lips and said, “Shhh.”

Dr. Smith closed his mouth.

“It’s my job to know these things. Her Majesty trusted me and a handful of others, just in case his activities left him addled. What I don’t know is, how often was he treated for the French disease?”

“I… I’m sure I don’t know.” Dr. Smith said at once, his gray eyes widened while the Prime Minister simply looked blankly back at him.

Finally, his will broke and Dr. Smith answered, “After every trip to the Empire.”

“And when you treated him, did he ever talk to you about why he needed treatment?” Lloyd asked.

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Dr. Smith clammed up again, his youthful jaw clenched tight as he weighed his general lack of options. “He was… talkative.”

“How talkative?” Lloyd urged.

“There was a woman he liked in particular, he talked about her a lot, I’m sure she wasn’t the only one. He was a young man after all. But she was the only one that he ever talked about. A woman in Berun, the last time he came to see me, he mentioned a communique saying… saying she was pregnant, and named him as the father.” Dr. Smith exhaled heavily. “He was fairly broken up about it during his last visit, before tensions got too high, supposedly she put the child into an orphanage in the same city. After that, who can say?”

“Sir,” the Doctor continued, “while it’s not impossible, if she was a prostitute, there’s no way to know for sure if she’s legitimately his or not.”

“That may be so, doctor, but this is the only lead we have right now. The throne of the Commonwealth has not been empty for two thousand years beyond the time it took to name a successor, and if we don’t name one soon, who knows what might happen?”

“Sir, you’re not suggesting…” Dr. Smith couldn’t help but swallow another lump.

‘Civil war isn’t ruled out, better to let him think that. But worse would be some demagogue or even worse than that, other powers might try to intervene, better the bastard half-blood offspring of a Prince and his whore that we choose, than some rabble rousing populist that will throw us into war early and do God alone knows what to our country!’ Lloyd kept those thoughts to himself.

“For now, most of the deaths are listed as ‘unconfirmed’. Keep it that way while the search continues, let the news report what it wants for now, and just don’t make any comment if you’re asked about it. By the time we announce the official demise, hopefully we’ve already found what we need, one way or the other. For the Commonwealth.” Lloyd said with boldness and brashness, straightening up as if he were a soldier, and the Doctor reflexively imitated him.

“For the Commonwealth.” Dr. Smith answered in return, and Lloyd left him behind.

‘We’re lucky there is an armistice in place right now, we’ll just have to extend the peace with the Empire for a little longer or… maybe we should actually reveal this to them? It may even help make peace with the empire now, before things get worse.’ That was an attractive thought, the war had not gone well…

‘No, it’s a disaster in every sense.’ He took a hardnosed look at the facts as he made his way to his car and wordlessly got into the back seat again. “Parliament.” He said to his driver, and watched the traffic move slowly past. Horsedrawn wagons and buggies were making a comeback now that fuel rationing had begun, everything had to be put forth to the war effort.

‘They might put up with it for a war we’re winning, but short of an invasion by the Russy Federation, we’re in a bad way and what’s the point of losing anyway? It’s not like we started this stupid war.’ It wasn’t the first time the Prime Minister cursed the war in his head regardless of how often he praised it openly.

‘We should have waged economic warfare on the Empire and formed a more amenable agreement… but those panicky fools…’ If it hadn’t been for the incident off the coast that cost the Commonwealth some lives and convinced a few rabble rousing populists that their best chance for personal power was to stir up anti-Empire sentiment, they might not be at war now. ‘I still wonder if some of those bastards weren’t motivated by bribes from the Republic or the Entente Alliance…’

He folded his hands over his lap, he was spiraling off into speculation, and that would do nobody any good.

There was only one real option, even if there had been sabotage, ‘We’ll have to send people out to the Empire, find the Prince’s child, and hope for the best.’

Hoping for the best… that was something he was used to doing.

But then again?

‘I’m also used to disappointment.’ He thought and put a brave expression on his face when the car stopped to let him out at the front gate.