“Ma’am, are you worried?” Visha asked me as she laced my dress in the back.

“About what?” I asked her, that question didn’t make sense.

“Dinner tonight, and meeting the Kaiser himself… soon?” She swallowed hard behind me, I didn’t need to see her to know her eyes were big as saucers at the possibility. It’s a wonder that Visha is any good at cards, her expression is so revealing that she might as well be an open book.

A telegram arrived not an hour before this, informing me that the Kaiser, my sort of homeland’s Emperor himself, would be arriving in Birmingham in person to negotiate peace. It would make a nice announcement for the gathered politicians of both houses. ‘I have to wonder if Churbull will show up?’ I shook off that thought and chose to answer Visha.

“No and no. The Kaiser isn’t an idiot, and as far as any reasonable person can tell I wasn’t put here as his personal puppet. I’m sure he’ll expect some key concessions but…” I hesitated, this was something of a sticking point for me. I had to do a good job for the Empire of the Commonwealth, but also for the Empire I came from, if I want to avoid being killed off by either of them, and I also had to have a good reason for whatever I gave away or fought to keep.

“Ma’am?” Visha asked as her dexterous fingers came to a stop and she finished binding the black strings behind me.

“If the Commonwealth collapses, I believe a worse war will come to pass. It’s not victory we need, but security.” I said, and then asked, “What are the evening papers saying?”

“Captain Pruss is still missing. Nobody knows where he went… that was the Captain who… oh, and Secretary Churbull had another rally…he’s doing a lot of those. And they’re getting bigger.”

“They’re still talking about the one from this morning?” I was surprised about that, it made very little sense to me. In busy times like these-”

“No ma’am, he had a second rally this afternoon. He’s very popular among the working class.” Visha answered and then stepped in front of me, she still towered over me, but a little less so now than when we’d first met.

I remembered someone else who was very popular among the working class, who also sprang to power at a time when a lot of stable leadership was dead and gone, and uncertainty was everywhere.

But I can’t very well tell Visha what I know about life in the other world and its history.

“I see.” I answered. “Have they been distributing literature?” I asked.

“No, ma’am, it’s just him, and… a few other speakers.” She answered, and of course I didn’t need to ask the obvious.

“Some of them are saying you planned your own attempted assassination. That it was a ‘Hollow Hostility’ meant to make you sympathetic. That the Commonwealth was backstabbed by the Irish immigrants and the foreign workers who took the jobs of good native Albinian people. That any peace with the Empire that doesn’t involve its surrender is a treason to the people and there is only one penalty for that. Nonsense rambling, mostly.” Visha’s dismissive answer was not one I wanted to hear.

“Remember the Republic General who refused to surrender? Didn’t we call his promise to continue the struggle, ‘nonsense’ and ‘futile’? Also ‘harmful’ and ‘self destructive’ not to mention ‘stupid’?” I asked.

“Yes, ma’am… you did.” Visha folded her hands one over the other in front of her waist. By now everybody knew the fight was anything but over. But more than that, the Russy Federation might still jump in, and everybody knew the Americans would likely keep supplying the Republic even if the Commonwealth cut off the flow. The truth is, I did want to cut off the flow. Buying weapons for yourself was expensive, buying weapons for someone else to later use against you, was stupid and expensive.

But cutting them off completely would probably look like I was exactly the agent they feared I was.

“I was right then, and I am right now. Nonsense or not. Do yourself a favor, don’t go out anywhere near where the rallies are being held. It’s not safe.” I said, and she blinked her big wide eyes in surprise.

“Ma’am, I can take care of myself.” She protested, but I shook my head.

“I know, that’s my point. I wouldn’t put it past one of them to try to provoke a reaction that lets them say you’re the aggressor.” I replied and Visha became flushed in the face.

“I understand, ma’am! I’ll do as you say.” She replied, and then after placing a bothersome gold tiara on my head, she stepped back. “You’re ready.”

A knock at the door drew both our notice, and at my nod, Visha went to open the door.

A spindly middle aged butler bowed deeply at the waist, “My Queen, the guests have begun to arrive, I shall notify you when the last of them are present.”

“No.” I said. “Notify me when it’s ten minutes before the hour.”

“As the Queen wills it.” He said and wiggled his gray and brown mustache before bowing again and withdrawing from the room, closing the door in front of him so that he would not show his back to me.

I was ready way before I needed to be, of course, how could I be any other way? But there were protocols to observe. One thing I did find in reading about the royal protocols and traditions was particularly helpful. Each generation of monarch set a different tone than the others, distinguishing the character of their reign in such a way that it was a memorable era for that specific trait.

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My grandmother, it seems, was all prudery, primness, and properness, perfect manners and clean everything. ‘She wouldn’t have lasted ten minutes on the Rhine front.’ I thought with a snort. The chief power of the monarchy is their influence on tradition and the national character. At least when it came to the middle and upper classes. The bulk of the lower class had no access to the cleanliness part, but they did their best on the other things. ‘I’ll have to open some public paths here. That would go a long way toward cleaning up the city.’ I made a mental note of that, and settled more on what ‘my’ reign would epitomize.

Hard work and free will. And with that, I adjusted my speech.

Visha stood silent, waiting for an order of some sort and I asked, “Visha, you haven’t taken a day off since you got here, have you?”

“No, ma’am, but I don’t need one! If you’re working, I’m working!” She insisted.

“Take tomorrow for yourself, you’re in a new country, you’re going to be here for a long time, you should get to know it, haven’t you gotten to speak with any of the guards, or the staff, yet?” I asked.

“Oh, um, not really ma’am. I eat before them so I can be ready to attend to you, a big part of my job is just being a companion to the Queen. Someone you can talk to.” She said, and closed her mouth tight.

We both knew I wasn’t exactly the ‘gossippy, I need somebody to chit chat over nothing with’ sort of person. I don’t relate to people that way, I suppose my ‘twisted’ personality has gone unchanged despite or perhaps because of everything.

“Take tomorrow off, arrange something with a tour group, and take the entire staff with you, call it a sort of ‘get to know you’ outing, and a show of appreciation for their steadfastness after the attack on my person.” I said, and Visha became bright red.

“Thank you, ma’am! To be honest, I have been kind of lonely, the guys back in the 203rd, they were like a family full of big, dirty, sometimes boneheaded brothers… I sort of miss them. I hope they’re doing okay out there.” She answered, and I knew I’d made the right call.

“Is that right?” I asked. The very notion was strange to me.

“Yes, ma’am. They’re like my brothers. And you’re like the scary mother of the unit.” She said and then slapped both her hands over her mouth, gasped, and reared back.

I glared. “Scary mother, am I? You know I’m ten, right?” I asked.

“Heh-heh-heh…yes, ma’am. But it’s just, it’s never seemed like that. Sometimes-” Visha stopped and gave her head a vigorous shake, “N-Never mind, ma’am!”

I brushed it off. It’s not like she was wrong. I was in my early thirties when I died the first time, meaning that chronologically my ‘mind’ was in its forties. By contrast, Visha was barely an adult, and the oldest member of the 203rd was in his early twenties.

“If you want to write to them, you should. Just be careful about the things you say, you can bet that anything you write will be read by somebody other than the recipient. Probably on both sides of the channel.” I pointed out, and a big, albeit fragile smile spread over her face.

“I’ll do that, ma’am! And I’ll tell them how you’re doing.” She promised.

“That would be good.” I said, “Now go ahead and give me some time to myself and rejoin me when it’s time, oh and send out my announcement to the press. I want it in the papers in the morning.”

“Of course, ma’am.” Visha said and curtseyed. She was an appealing young woman in my eyes, the sort I would have thought of in my old life as an almost ideal beauty. It was hard to believe that she was a hardened killer and the sort of person who could annihilate a city and then get a good night’s sleep.

Of course she was still sentimental, and I knew well enough to play to that, asking to be left alone, it would be assumed I wanted to be alone with my thoughts. I may not always read people as well as I like, but I knew how to make people think I was sentimental too.

In reality I just wanted to practice my speech alone for a while so I could better sway the visitors.

I kept it short. I kept it sweet. I had a nice mental list in place.

* Worker fatalities and injuries are high, these must be curbed

* Munitions and armaments are expensive and we’re just giving them away, these need to be reduced, we need a smaller army with more training, with a larger ready reserve of people who remain fit for basic tasks.

* Poor hospital staffing is leading to decline in human resources, funding and staffing needs to be increased, this means investing in more education for medical personnel.

* An uneducated population is fit for very little, increase our talent pool by providing access to higher education

* Peace with the empire militarily to shift to economic competition through exports with decreased tariffs

* Create favorable trade terms with any nation not engaged in the export of more than fifty million pounds sterling worth of armaments per year.

* Send only volunteers to the Free Republic, let the Americans or whoever, supply them

* A minimum wage automatically increased annually with inflation, people who have no money to spend, buy nothing.

That last provision was something I was particularly pleased with. It would let me get rid of the people who were most likely to want me personally dead, and it sent them to where they would be quickly killed off by my 203rd or by General Romel. General Lugo was not exactly a military genius, he was competent enough, but emotional, impractical, and he had very rigid military thinking. By the same token, I wouldn’t look like I’m kissing the Kaiser’s ring, either.

It would mean higher taxes, but given all of these things would benefit not only the majority of the population, but the country and most of its businesses as well? I had high hopes for it. Only a mad fool of the streets would oppose that.

I’d finished going over a number of my bullet points in my head when there was a knock at the door. I ceased mouthing my words and said, “Is it time?”

“Yes, My Queen, it is.” The older man’s voice came through the door and I squared myself to face it. I took one deep breath, ran my hands over my dress one more time to smooth out any lingering wrinkles that… didn’t really exist, and said, “Then show me to the hall.”

The door opened and Visha strode swiftly to stand behind me, and once she was in place, I walked out, following the servant to the largest dining hall in Birmingham Palace. I suppose I was at least a little uncertain, not exactly ‘nervous’ per se. But I’d invited the members of the House of Lords and the House of Populii to join me.

It would be the first real chance to talk to most of them as something other than representatives of their office. For almost all of them, it would really be my first chance to speak at all.

Between my foreign status, my sex, and what was no doubt known to some as far as my history goes, I wasn’t expecting ‘everybody’ to be willing to attend. But what I got when the door opened and the servant announced me to the hall? That was not what I expected.