It’s a waste of time to wonder, really, but I still think about the man who pushed me in front of the train. I wonder what happened to him. There were dozens of witnesses to it, he had an obvious motive, and he had nowhere to run. Was he found guilty? Did he go to prison? And I wonder if he gave any thought to his family’s fortunes after that act? ‘Who will pay for my daughter’s tuition?’ I remember him saying something like that. ‘Or was it a son?’ I couldn’t recall. Whichever it was, nobody would be, now.

In his hatred for me, he forgot why he hated me. In his pleading mind he was thinking of his family, but his vengeful mind pushed them all away, they weren’t even an afterthought. All he knew was his irrational hatred of someone better than he was in every way, and how to punish me for bringing him the consequences of his own actions.

Given the state of the country at the time, around ten years ago, if time moved at the same rate in both worlds, his trial would have been quick and he would be in prison for at least twenty years. In addition to that, his wife would almost certainly leave him, and to avoid stigma, their child would change their name. Leaving Japan for America or more likely, Europe, for education and work would be their best option, and then to avoid shame, they would never go home. Right now, he should be about halfway through his sentence, assuming the Yakuza didn’t kill him for practice.

He got his revenge, and it destroyed his life.

If I’d only signaled myself as caring and empathetic, his hatred might have been directed elsewhere. Thankfully, I knew better now. I showed all the outward signs of being the perfect soldier to the Empire, and now I had to show the signs of the perfect Queen.

Which is why I was now sitting alone reading about my ancestors, the traditions, the air with which they carried themselves. Thankfully I did have a projector in this room, I could watch and rewatch the films of the late royal family.

I didn’t really feel ‘connected’ to them. I flipped the switch on the projector beside me and watched the flickering lights, the black and white movie went on. My grandmother took slow, regal steps, the same was true of the others. My hasty steps by contrast were more like those of the servants who raced ahead to do whatever it was which needed to be done. ‘I see. That gives the servants time to act, and it shows that they’re in charge and don’t ‘need’ to hurry.’

I cataloged that as one of the ways to ‘signal’ royalty and status, but I immediately gritted my teeth, it was so ‘inefficient’ that I knew right away I’d have trouble with it.

One thing I immediately shot down was the utterly ridiculous clothing. Bad enough I had to wear a dress. It was even worse to think of wearing those giant round things all the time. Absolutely not. ‘I put up with that photo shoot, I can put up with a ‘very’ formal occasion. But I will not dress like that at all times. No thank you. I’ll have to pass it off as ‘honoring my father’s heritage’ and for that matter, I should get myself a computation jewel.’

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Even if they weren’t as good as the ones in the Empire, realistically speaking, who knew when an assassin might strike again. I got lucky it was a few incompetents the first time. If it had been a mage, I might have been in serious trouble.

I also noticed that in each of the videos I watched, the Queen arrived last. This made sense. Everybody waits on the one in charge. I got that. It was normal enough as far as it went. I had my trainees show up early before my arrival, this was the same principle.

Little by little I absorbed the basic traditions and common etiquette of the office. I would have a rough time of it, however I could use my age to my advantage in this one… ‘I might as well enjoy that benefit while I can.’ I thought to myself, and resumed my studies with the same vigor I always had.

Most of it wasn’t so bad, I could do an approximation of most of them with little effort, the square shoulders and straight ahead look were natural enough for me. The rest required some effort, I was far more direct than graceful… but then again?

I stopped the movie and picked up the newspaper.

“Churbull… that must be this world’s equivalent of Churchill. A warmongering bastard with a sharp wit and with the, what did the Americans call racist beliefs in creators and leaders? Oh yes! ‘Problematic’ views of anyone he deems savage or primitive. A lucky populist, more than anything.” I was talking to myself, and that probably wasn’t good. But my grip tightened around the crinkly cheap newspaper, he’d been doing rallies to promote the resumption of war and drawing some sizable crowds.

That by itself wasn’t a problem… yet. What had me angry was the first thing I saw in print below his posed photo. ‘Did the Empire sabotage the Hindenburg to cripple the Commonwealth’s will to fight? Questions emerge during Churbull rally!’

I read on. ‘Someone must ask these questions, and we demand answers! Why is the investigation taking so long? Who is really paying for it? This isn’t the first time an incident has happened during peacetime between the Commonwealth and the Empire! Why shouldn’t we ask why that is?!’

I don’t think the paper printed the full speech, but it definitely got the most bothersome highlights. I knew a populist demagogue when I saw one. He was good at rallying the people, but if he was like his counterpart in the old world his ability to create military strategies was a disaster waiting to happen.

And that… that gave me an idea… I had to hope I wouldn’t need to use it. And there were a thousand ways it might go wrong.

But if it went right? I could potentially win the game of politics for years to come.

First though?

First I needed to win a game at dinner.