For Queen and Country (Earth II)

[The Reborn British Empire]

Act I
The Once and Future Queen

The Monarchy has always been the heart and soul of the British Nation. From the majestic prestige of our Monarchs during the height of the British Empire, to the quiet sense of duty exhibited by George VI during a decade of conflict, to the dignified defiance of Elizabeth II during the darkest days of our history, right up until the very end. The False King is neither our heart or our soul; no one from the continent could ever hope to understand our people, or our ways, or the sacrifice that we have been compelled to make over the past two decades. The False King might sully Buckingham Palace, Sandringham and Windsor with his presence, and his Prime Minister might sit in Whitehall and dictate our fates, but they can never claim to truly represent us. Standing against them we have a young woman of Royal blood, who has been in exile from her own nation for her own safety after the death of her entire family; if there is anyone who can understand our sacrifice it is her. Having undergone naval training at the Layartebian Naval Academy she knows all too well how to do her duty.

Elizabeth Windsor is our Queen, by right of blood and by right of law, and by the best interests of the British people.
-Sir William Churchill, Speech to Britain, 1 June 2017

[The Reborn British Empire]

Sir Jonathan Edwards KBE
New Broadcasting House, London
Friday 26th March 2017, 2200hrs Local Time

Sir Jonathan Edwards, read through his rundown as he made his way from his office, across the newsroom, towards the broadcast studio, ready to present the BBC News at Ten to millions of households both in Britain and abroad, as he did every weeknight as the Lead Presenter, a comforting presence to many, having reported on news good and ill. Sir Jonathan was a respected journalist, having made his name during the Goodrule Terror, he had been a junior relief presenter at the time of the fall but he had been on the air when news of the death of the Queen, Elizabeth II, had reached the studio and he had faced the unenviable task of reporting that news to a nation already reeling from the Goodrule invasion. Having escaped the capital in those early days he had continued to make his name throughout the Goodrule Terror, reporting via the internet on the resistance and generally keeping the nation’s spirits up; a service for which he had been Knighted after the Goodrule Withdrawal. In the years since he had reported on the actions of the Banjamoni Monarch, and then watched in dismay as the Dutch King staked his, rather questionable, claim to the British Throne and brought about the uneasy situation that currently prevailed.

It was perhaps not surprising that the British would be uneasy at another foreign power taking over their Government.

Not since the Goodrule Terror.

The United Kingdom had resisted the Goodrule for many years, principally at sea via her famed Royal Navy, but over time the Goodrule had steaidly built up a Battle Fleet capable of taking on the somewhat reduced Royal Navy than in years past, and had destroyed the bulk of the Royal Navy in the Battle of the Celtic Sea. Thereafter the Royal Air Force had put up an almighty effort, but ultimately however the Goodrule managed to land troops and despite the valiant efforts of the Royal Air Force and the British Army they had simply overwhelmed them with numbers and firepower; and although the war wasn’t over when they took London, it was there that the Goodrule inflicted their most heinous wound upon the British.

The Queen, Elizabeth II, steadfastly refused to leave the Capital, just as she had during earlier conflicts in the 1940s, and most of her family had likewise refused to be taken anywhere safer. When it had become clear that the city was doomed the battalions of the Household Division stationed in and around Buckingham Palace had attempted to facilitate the Queen’s evacuation to an underground bunker in Wiltshire known as TURNSTILE. However, they were intercepted and brought to battle just outside of London by a far larger enemy force and destroyed; the Queen was captured and summarily executed by the Goodrule forces. The popular story, whether or not it was true or not was debatable, was that her husband, the Duke of Edinburgh, had, despite his age, taken up a pistol to defend his wife, and after being badly wounded contended to hurl his infamously racist wit at the Goodrule soldiers until the pair of them were killed. It had been a dark day for Britain, and despite a concerted resistance over the following weeks and months, they had never really recovered.

The following decade under the totalitarian regime that was the Goodrule had been utter hell for the British. Punished for their defiance during the invasion, and their continuing resistance, the Goodrule were particularly vicious in their subjugation of the British people. Many of the surviving military personnel, who were not invariable imprisoned (some for as long as the full ten-year regime), joined the Resistance, led by the great grandson of a former British Prime Minister, and a Colonel in the British Army, George Churchill, including Collingwood himself as soon as he had made it safely back into the country after the surrender. The resistance had conducted a formidable insurgency campaign for over a decade, including heavy casualties upon the Goodrule military forces; although at a heavy cost in terms of reprisals. Ultimately however they had succeeded in forcing the Goodrule into retreat as their regime collapsed around them until they had, at last, been removed from the Earth. regime collapsed around them until their stain had, at last, been removed from the Earth. The immediate aftermath of the Goodrule withdrawal had been brutal, the resistance had inflicted significant extra-legal retribution upon remaining Goodrule officials and collaborators, often with broad public support.

It was however this brutal and extra-legal period that, instead of a return to democratic constitutional government, Britain had found itself under the control of a reactionary regime in the form of the Banjamoni Government. Britain had, with its new found return to freedom, rebuilt its military and started picking fights with all and sundry. And yet there had been no purpose to it all, no grand strategy for which Britain had been wold famous during the days of the British Empire. In the kind of world they all lived where ambition and Imperialism were in the national interest there would be a need for both strength and going out and getting what you wanted, but there had to be direction and strategy; both of which the Banjamoni Government had simply lacked. The weaknesses of this government in terms of its planning and strategizing had been emphasised by what had happened when the Government had managed to allow itself to fall into the hands of a foreign Monarch with a claim to the British Throne that was weak to say the least.

And Sir Jonathan Edwards had reported on all of it, as he would continue to do so for every day until his retirement, which he hoped would not come for some years, as he loved his job and he knew that he was both well respected and well liked, and was the man many turned to for their daily news.

Settling into his chair Sir Jonathan read the rundown one last time before waiting for the countdown to ten.

“Good Evening… this is London… and it’s Ten O’clock, our top story tonight; the rhetoric is being ramped up on all sides of the upcoming General Election and questions are beginning to be asked on subjects that few expected to be tackled going in; as nationalist voices begin to be heard from unlikely sources,” Sir Jonathan began crisply in the firm, no-nonsense tone that he was well known for. “The questions started to be asked in Amsterdam this morning, with the Liberal Party of Holland giving voice to the frustrations of many in the Netherlands that their King seems to be more interested in being British than he is in being Dutch, this is the first time a major party has given these frustrations such a public voice.”

Sir Jonathan paused.

“By the afternoon parties in France and Germany were questioning why they should be subject to a King who is so clearly not as enthused about being German or French as he is as being British, and that, through Prime Minister Soer, he is prepared to use taxpayer money, from across the Empire, simply to be King of Britain,” Sir Jonathan continued wryly. “These sentiments were met by a tongue-in-cheek comment from William Churchill, Leader of the British Centrist Party, which has been endorsed by all the other traditional British parties since the Dutch takeover, that Britain does not particularly want a Foreign Overlord ruling over them, that the British should rule themselves.”

Sir Jonathan paused again and turned to a different camera as a screen in the background showed protests.

“By evening protests had broken out in many cities all over the Empire, and Prime Minister Soer was compelled to defend the King’s position and actions, as well as his Government’s decision to puruse the King’s claim on the British Throne, which constitutional scholars have suggested is weak to say the least,” Sir Jonathan continued as evenly as possible. “What has become clear throughout the day is that this election, which was supposed to secure the Soer Government’s majority and the Empire as a whole, is unlikely to do anything of the sort; if today is anything to go by there are going to be questions that call into doubt the very nature of the Empire going forwards…”

Elizabeth Windsor
Layartebian Naval Academy, Annapolis
Friday 26th May 2017, 1900hrs Local Time

Elizabeth Windsor, or Elizabeth Warner as she had been known by the majority of classmates and faculty for her four years at the Layartebian Naval Academy, checked her appearance in the mirror in her cabin inside Bancroft Hall. After four years of fitting in amongst the rest of the Brigade of Midshipman in Layartebian naval uniform, today during her graduation ceremony Elizabeth had stood out in the dress uniform of an Officer of the Royal Navy, bearing the single gold ring and executive loop of a Sub-Lieutenant. For most of the last four years she had grown as a person and a leader, knowing the history that her family name represented, and the future it so heavily suggested. Her classmates had all known she was a foreign exchange officer, even if she had lived in the Empire of Layarteb for most of her life, yet none of them knew who she really was, who her carers had spent her childhood and adolescence teaching her she was. And yet all of that seemed so far away; even stood her in the uniform of the Royal Navy seemed almost like a story so detached from her reality; there was very little chance of her serving a realistic naval career.

It made her question in many respects what her last years at Annapolis had been for.

It had not even been her decision to attend Annapolis in the first place; her carers had received instructions from the shadowy conspiracy that she had been told was, in some way, financing her ‘exile’. For, as she had been told be her carers, was the granddaughter of the last true British Monarch, and the rightful heir to the British Throne. To her backers attending military officer training, even if it was foreign, would stand her in good stead if they made an attempt to push her claim to the British Throne. It wasn’t that she had not enjoyed her years at Annapolis, or that she had not learned a great deal, but she had never really made a choice of her own in her life. She was of Royal blood, a Princess of the United Kingdom and a Queen by rights, and yet she found herself envying the freedom her fellow Midshipman at the LNA had enjoyed. She knew what her destiny was, and she knew that all too soon she would be caught up in it. She would do her duty, just as her great grandfather, George VI had during the decade of conflict in the 1940s, which ultimately impacted his health to the extend it cost him his life. Everything she had been taught, and everything she knew about herself, meant that, when push came to shove, she would do her duty.

Which just so happened to come a-knocking.

“Come in,” Elizabeth called, turning to face the door.

She felt her eyebrows raising as a man in Royal Naval uniform, with the shoulder boards of a full Admiral, entered her small cabin. The man looked to be in his mid-fifties, which would make sense given his rank, and he held a certain distinguished look; white hair cut short in a military style, and although aged his features still retained some the handsomeness it had undoubtedly held when the man was younger and without the years of strain of living in Britain under the Goodrule Regime. He was also undeniably familiar, in the most distant sort of way, Elizabeth was convinced that she had seen him before, although she could not place him. She still had her tricorne cap on, having been examining her appearance in the mirror, so she raised her hand in a salute to a superior officer, but was surprised when he beat her to the punch and saluted first.

“Your Majesty,” The Admiral said simply. “I am William Collingwood.”

Elizabeth felt her eyebrows rise higher than they had when he had saluted her first as she placed the name, and realised where she recognized the man from. Then-Commander Collingwood had been the man who had smuggled her out of the country during the Fall of Britain in 1999 aboard his ship, HMS Liverpool, and taken her all the way across the Atlantic to safety in the Empire of Layarteb. It had been Collingwood who had assigned her team of carers and her close protection detail, working closely with the Layartebian Ministry of Intelligence; in short it had been Collingwood who had saved her life, all those years ago. She had only been a young child back then, no more than four years old.

“I am not deserving of such a title, Sir,” Elizabeth protested. “Certainly not when wearing this uniform.”

“With respect, you are my rightful Queen, by blood and by law; that uniform you wear is your uniform; the Queen’s Uniform, you have every right to wear it, and for any title of Majesty,” Collingwood said firmly. “As you are no doubt aware we have met before, Ma’am, I secreted you out of Britain during the Goodrule Invasion; you have grown a great deal since I last saw you, all those years ago.”

“I was only four, at the time, Sir,” Elizabeth replied, relying for the moment on military courtesy to keep her sane. “What brings you here?”

“It’s time to go home, Ma’am,” Collingwood said simply. “There are many that would see you on your rightful throne, and with the General Election going on back home now is the perfect time.”

Elizabeth frowned.

“I saw the developments on the news,” She commented slowly. “These people who would see me on the throne… were they responsible?”

“No; we had intended to simply bring you home and present you as an alternative during the election; it would be damned difficult for the Soer Government to reject a democratic effort to enthrone an alternative Queen, with a stronger claim, in the midst of a general electrion in a parliamentary democracy,” Collingwood replied honestly, it was not wise to lie to a Queen after all. “However, with nationalist voices already bringing into question the unity of the Empire, if we can bring you into the mix and present you to the British people as their true Queen then their voices would add to the others and make the situation more and more untenable for the Dutch King; he would have to choose between his own people, and the British who do not really want him; it would be a no brainer, one would have thought.”

“In theory,” Elizabeth commented wryly.

“In theory,” Collingwood admitted.

“You want to put a twenty-two year old woman, who has lived but four years of her life in a foreign country, that has had to consciously try and maintain her British accent and has had none of the decorum, protocol or tradition training that required for the role; I’m a naval officer more than I am a prospective Queen,” Elizabeth shook her head. “I’ve spent the last four years around Layartebian college students, military officer candidates perhaps but students none the less, and by god I’ve enjoyed myself; I’ve learnt more about navigation, seamanship and military life than I have about how to serve as a Constitutional Monarch of a country that desperately needs strong leadership, what on Earth do you expect me to bring to the table?”

“You bring right and providence, Ma’am, you are the rightful Queen; you bring your family name; one that the people can get behind, you bring yourself, a symbol that will cause people to support you; the Monarchy has always been the heart of the British nation; that is what you bring, something that the Dutch King simply cannot,” Collingwood answered firmly. “More than that you are a person that I believe the people can truly love and adore as they did your grandmother; your youth and your lack of formal royal training will only endear you to them, and your military experience will ensure that you can not just be a figurehead; you can play a real role.”

Elizabeth turned away and stepped up to the window looking out over Academy and sighed heavily. She had known this day would come, and despite her attempt at ignorance she had known that the state of affairs in Britain were getting worse. It was understandable really, the British were a proud people, and after a decade of subjugation by a foreign power it was no surprise that they were opposed to subjugation to a foreign monarch; particularly when it seemed to be just a means by which the Dutch Empire could take control of yet another territory, and to benefit from the prestige and history of controlling Britain. The British were not above being imperialistic and forging an Empire, indeed Elizabeth suspected that many would want the true British to do just that to ensure that they would never again fall subject to a foreign power, but the British had their own ways of ensuring their control was respected. Deep down she felt a desire to do what Collingwood asked; not for her own benefit, not because she wanted the perks of being Queen, but because she wanted to do her bit for her people; and she could do the most as Queen. But she was conflicted, she did not know if she was the person that the British people needed as their Queen, the last thing she wanted was for them to fight for her, only for her to let them down.

“Very well, how do we proceed?”

[The Reborn British Empire]

Sir William Churchill KCB
Trafalgar Square, London
Monday 29th May 2017, 0900hrs Local Time

The atmosphere in Trafalgar Square was electric, which was perhaps hardly surprising given that it was packed literally to the rim with men, women and children, all waiting to see the great war hero, Sir William Churchill, speak. It was widely known that most in Britain saw Sir William, a hero of the resistance to the Goodrule Regime, as their true leader, far more so than the Dutch King, or his Prime Minister in Downing Street. Given that Sir William, who had been a Colonel prior to the Goodrule Invasion, had led the British Resistance throughout the Goodrule Terror, and subsequently served as the first Secretary of State for Defence for the Banjamoni King, many had expected him to be Prime Minister in due course. This had, of course, all gone awry when the Dutch King had pressed his own claim to the throne following the death of the Banjamoni King and, without a realistic alternative, the British had reluctantly acquiesced, all too aware of the Dutch military forces on the continent, with many British military assets deployed globally on the Banjamoni Government’s ill-conceived adventures. Churchill was all for building a global empire; it had been the Empire that had given Britain much of its economic, political and military clout, but the Banjamoni had lacked the grand strategy required.

Shortly after the Dutch King’s claim on the British Throne a senior naval officer, Edward Collingwood, had spoken quietly to Churchill one evening at the Army and Navy Club on Pall Mall, informing him that during the Goodrule Invasion he had been responsible for stewarding the last remaining Windsor, the young Princess Elizabeth, out of the country. A responsibility which he had successfully discharged, secreting Elizabeth Windsor safely to the Empire of Layarteb where, he reported, she had been attending the Layartebian Naval Academy at Annapolis. Churchill had initially been furious; they had been compelled to accept a Foreign King because they lacked a realistic alternative and now Collingwood was informing him, too late, that there was indeed a realistic alternative. Collingwood had pointed out however that the it would be better to allow the Princess to complete her education before bringing her into the fray far better equipped and educated to handle the political storm her appearance would provoke, as well as the burdens of Queenship, should their efforts be successful.

Churchill was a realist; he knew that usurping, if that was even the right word given that many British questioned the claim, the Dutch King’s claim on the British Throne would be difficult to say the least. It would require a clear and unquestioned support for the Princess Elizabeth’s own claim, support that made it simply impractical for the Dutch to continue their own administration of a country that would likely become increasingly hostile to their presence. Affairs had been helped by the unrest in the Netherlands itself, which had spread rapidly across the Empire and was rapidly becoming a key factor in the General Election; it would be very difficult to refuse the democratic wishes of a subject populous during something as fundamentally democratic as an election. Moreover, if these tensions continued in the Netherlands, or indeed spread to the rest of the continental Empire then things might become far more serious for King Richard and the Soer Premiership; something that Churchill fully intended to take advantage of. He had several ideas for ways that he could further inflame the situation, but for right now he would content himself to give voice to the millions of Brits who desired the ability to decide their own destiny.

Churchill looked around as the Mayor of London wound his way towards introducing him. There was a great deal of bustle around; the crowd alone was sizable no doubt a very real, very visible statement to the Prime Minister in Downing Street, not too far away down Whitehall. The Metropolitan Police were out in force, but their concern was simply policing what was a large, but not unruly, protest and political gathering; there was no hint of suppression or anything of that nature. Of course it was highly questionable whether the Met Commissioner, Sir Francis Poole, would actually follow any instructions from Downing Street to act against any protests or gatherings in support of British Sovereignty. After all almost all of Britain’s institutions were hundreds of years old, had survived the Goodrule Terror in some form or another and had only been under the administration of the Soer Government for a short period of time; it would take far longer for the institutional memory, traditions or very nature to be corrupted by foreign influence. And one of those traditions was the way the British people tolerated being policed.

“…therefore my great pleasure to introduce Sir William Churchill,” The Mayor of London, Edward Burgess said with a broad smile. “Member of Parliament for Chester and Leader of the Centrists.”

Churchill stepped forwards and shook hands with Burgess. Under normal circumstances Churchill and Burgess would never have shared a stage willingly; Burgess was a liberal, and a fairly left wing liberal at that, whereas Churchill was firmly at the centre of the political spectrum as a Centrists. Of course, Churchill and his Centrists had been formed in response to the Dutch King’s takeover of the British Throne in order to allow the British Establishment to resist this usurpation of their country without political partisanship becoming too big an impediment. The Centrists now held a large number of seats in their own rights, and had formed partnerships with all the other major parties with regards to matters of sovereignty and the national interest, ensuring that party politics was restrained to matters where disunity would not be an impediment rather than the critical aspects in which it would be a fundamental weakness in gaining what they all hoped for; a return of British Sovereignty, in that regard the famed British Establishment was united, as was the British people.

“Thank Your, Edward, and Good Morning Ladies and Gentlemen… you all know me of course; I fought for Britain as an Army Officer, I fought for Britain as a Resistance Leader, I continued to serve my country as a politician after our liberation from the Goodrule, and I resisted the claim of this Dutch Monarch on our regrettably vacant throne,” Churchill began, looking out over the crowd. “This country suffered grievously under the thumb of a foreign dictatorship; whose invasion allowed by decades of decline as we lost our Empire and drew down our military, blind to the basic truths that we ought to have realised; that only our military protected us from harm, that and the wealth and power provided by our Empire.”

Churchill paused meaningfully.

“It is therefore not without cause that we should be wary of another Foreign regime controlling us again, even if they do it in our name, for it seems that this Dutch King has failed to learn the lesson we learned by our decline; that for Empire to exist in the modern age it has to be a symbiotic relationship, not an uneven exploitative one,” Churchill continued, seeing nods of agreement from the crowd. “Our Apilonian Cousins have shown all too well that fact, bringing many races and peoples under the banner of mutual prosperity, whereas the Dutch require us to subjugate ourselves to them and receive very little in return, whilst they and their King benefits from the prestige of our Crown, at the expense of his own people.”

Churchill paused again, knowing that last line would be picked up by nationalist voices all over the Empire.

“Britain should no longer suffer under the rule of a foreign King, one who is using us for his own ends and is already facing criticism at home for doing so; we are a sovereign people who have the God-given right to self-determination, it is the policy of my party, and all those aligned with us, to seek our own due national sovereignty,” Churchill continued, laying down the gauntlet loud and clear. “Furthermore, our independent Britain will seek partners at home and abroad to rebuild our Empire built on mutual respect, prosperity and advantage to ensure that never again will we have to bow to a foreign King, that never again will our people know terror, pain or suffering, only prosperity, peace and happiness.”

Churchill paused as the crowd cheered his sentiment.

“Therefore when voices in the Netherlands themselves began to question why the King was so eager to throw away his Dutch heritage for a people that do not want him, I could not remain silent; and that is only the tip of this particular iceburg for, as I have already stated, this Empire the Dutch King has built is neither prosperous nor symbiotic,” Churchill added. “I therefore add my voices to those other brave voices across this Empire, which for all it might like to call itself a ‘British Empire’ is truly Dutch, who question why this state of affairs should be allowed to continue in the modern age; where Empire if it is to exist, and I for one believe it can and should, must be consensual and it must be balanced.”

Churchill paused again and glanced off stage, nodding a signal.

“Some might very well ask how I proceed to go forwards; even the most stalwart supporter of British Sovereignty would have to stop and ask the simple question if not the Dutch King then who; the Goodrule ripped from us the heart and soul of us, as a nation when they killed Queen Elizabeth II and her entire family,” Churchill commented with a wry smile forming on his features, for which he was known. “Of course, what the Goodrule failed to take into account was the bravery of the Metropolitan Police and the British Armed Forces in the darkest days of the Fall of Britain all those years ago there were those who followed a higher calling… therefore it is my great pleasure to introduce to you all; Her Royal Highness Princess Elizabeth Windsor.”

The crowd let out a gasp as a young woman in the dress uniform of a Sub-Lieutenant in the Royal Navy stepped onto the stage and walked over towards where Churchill was stood. She looked nervous to say the least, but she also had a certain look of determination on her features, and one could hardly question that she had the Windsor look. The crowd of thousands fell into stunned silence as Elizabeth Windsor stopped beside Churchill who, despite being in civilian clothes, took the very deliberate and very symbolic step of rendering a crisp, army-style, salute to the young Princess; even if her own military rank, such as it was, was far below the rank that he had gained in the Army prior to his retirement. The Princess returned the salute before turning to the crowd and, with far less awkwardness than one might expect, waved to the crowd; who roared their approval that would almost certainly be heard in Downing Street.

Sir Jonathan Edwards KBE
New Broadcasting House, London
Monday 29th May 2017, 2200hrs Local Time

“Good Evening… this is London… and it’s Ten O’clock, our top story tonight, as if there could be any other; the dramatic reveal by Sir William Churchill of what he claimed to be the last heir of the Royal House of Windsor; granddaughter of Her Late Majesty Queen Elizabeth II, during his defiant speech in Trafalgar Square this morning,” Sir Jonathan Edwards began his broadcast, which he knew was monumental. “Her Royal Highness Princess Elizabeth Windsor, the youngest daughter of the Prince and Princess of Wales, was, according to Sir William, sheparrded out of the country by Admiral Sir Edward Collingwood during the Fall of Britain, and has spent the intervening years in the Empire of Layarteb where she attended the Layartebian Naval Academy at Annapolis.”

Sir Jonathan paused briefly.

“As proof of his claims, Sir William released DNA records provided by the Royal Naval Hospital at Plymouth that confirm that Elizabeth Windsor is in fact exactly who she, and Sir William, claim to be; and it was subsequently announced that St. Mary’s Hospital would run its own, independent, DNA check to confirm the identity, however few seem eager to challenge the Princess’ heritage,” Sir Edward continued promptly, certainly none within Britain doubted their war hero. “Although Princess Elizabeth did not speak this morning at Trafalgar Square; given the security concerns she only remained on stage for a short period, Sir William did make a pledge that, now that he had produced a viable rightful heir to the British throne, that he would press the matter at the highest level.”

Sir Jonathan paused again, as the screen behind him showed the day’s monumental events.

“The reveal of Her Royal Highness’ survival sent shockwaves across the Empire, and beyond, the Liberal Party of Holland was quick to slam the Soer Government for allowing the King to lay claim to the British Throne, a claim which is not particularly strong by constitutional standards, whilst there was still a surviving Windsor, if unknown at that time,” Sir Edward explained. “This, the Liberal Party of Holland claimed, has resulted in a situation where the King and his Government are fundamentally at odds with the constitutional, legal and moral realities of the situation; whilst only reinforcing their argument that the King ought to concentrate on his own people, not a people that do not want him… particularly one that now has a very real alternative monarch.”

Sir Jonathan paused again as the screen returned to its neutral state.

“The Soer Government has yet to respond officially to the day’s events, likely seeking legal and constitutional advice, however sources speaking on the condition of anonymity suggest that the Government is at a loss of how to proceed, and all too aware that the general election agenda is rapidly getting away from them,” Sir Edward continued, his BBC neutrality cracking somewhat to display some scepticism. “It is currently unclear precisely how Sir William and Her Royal Highness intend to proceed, however as few can argue that Princess Elizabeth, as the last surviving heir to Elizabeth II, has a claim to the British Throne which is, constitutionally speaking, far stronger than the Dutch King, interesting days are certainly ahead.”

[Cotland]

The Royal Palace
Oslo, Realm of Cotland
Monday, 29 May 2017 -- 12:00

"Well, this is certainly a gamechanger," Andreas Riis Dahle stated bluntly at the television screen, watching the rerun from London for the n'th time. In front of the forty-six year old Chancellor of the Realm of Cotland, sitting behind a massive mahogany desk, King Sverre II quietly nodded as he reviewed the day's mountain of paperwork. Unfortunately, the kingship had its downsides as well as there were literarily hundreds of issues that required his personal attention during the day.

"It is Chancellor. I thought the Windsor house perished away about the same time that my father perished."

"So did we all sire", the Chancellor said, still remaining standing as he had not been invited to sit yet. "Obviously, this is one thing the Layartebians did not care to let us know about. It could have saved us quite a bit of trouble."

"Indeed," The King said, finally looking up from the paperwork. Raising an eyebrow as he realized that the Chancellor was still standing, he quickly gestured for the elder man to sit down, which the elder did with grace.

"She's a rather pretty thing, for a Briton I mean." Sverre commented. "Its almost a shame I'm already engaged."

The Chancellor laughed.

"That, sire, would have been a masterstroke of politics. Marry the girl, and get another Kingdom as a dowry. A shame the current Rikstinget would never approve."

"Indeed. Besides," Sverre smiled, "Nadia is prettier."

The King was referring to his fiancée, the Lady Nadia Hampton-Shilkerton, second youngest daughter of the Baron of Juneau, who the King had been going out with steady for three years.

The King had been notorious for being popular with the ladies, although the Royal Court had done a very good job covering it up, until he met Nadia. The two had hit it off immediately, and since then Sverre hadn't had eyes for anyone else. Within three months, Nadia had moved to Oslo, officially to study biochemistry at the prestigious Royal University of Oslo, and more or less moved into the Royal Palace's private apartments. It hadn't been too popular with her father, initially, but by now he had come around. The relationship had remained a closely guarded secret for more than a year before it finally emerged in the gossip columns in the spring of 2015, and exploded when the Royal Court didn't immediately deny it. The cat was out of the box when Nadia emerged next to Sverre during the May 17 celebrations that year, and since then the two had officially been a thing. The King had made the gossip columns worldwide explode further when he proposed marriage to Nadia during the wedding of the Dalmascan Queens in late 2015, to which Nadia had said yes. A date had yet to be determined, but the bookmakers were taking odds on a date being set very shortly.

"Joking aside, how can we spin this to our advantage?" Sverre asked. "Clearly, there is internal division in their ranks, with the British none too pleased with the Dutch political overlords. How can we make this divide even greater?"

"Majesty, I recommend that we publically support this new pretender. Best case, she becomes monarch and remembers us favorably when she ascends to the throne. This has positive ramifications down the road, with Cotland being perceived as a friendly power to the British, while we maintain the anamosity with the Dutch. It would also help to be on a friendly footing with them when Scotland eventually becomes a subject of discussion...."

"Scotland is not a subject of discussion! It is Cottish, under both law and possession, period." Sverre demanded.

"Of course sire," Chancellor Riis Dahle conceeded. "But the British may have to be reminded of that unquestionable fact."

"Quite so."

"Worst case sire, is that the attempted usurping of the British throne is defeated and the Dutch hold a grudge against us. They already hold this, so it is really no loss."

"Very well. This course of action is discussed with the Foreign Minister?"

"We discussed it briefly before I came over here sire. Truth be told sir, it was Foreign Minister Styrtenstiert's idea."

Sverre paused for a moment to consider, then nodded.

"I like it. Proceed please."

* * * * * * * * *

Official Statement by the Foreign Ministry of the Realm of Cotland

His Cottish Majesty's Government is pleased to see the House of Windsor, long believed to have vanished into the oblivion of history, returned to its rightful prominence as the Royal House of England. The news that H.R.H. Elizabeth Windsor is alive and well rejoices our hearts. His Cottish Majesty's Government henceforth officially recognize the legitimacy of Elizabeth Windsor's rightful claim to the throne of England, and welcome her ascent to the English throne. On behalf of His Majesty King Sverre II, we wish Elizabeth Windsor success!

[The Reborn British Empire]

Lieutenant Commander Adam Spencer RNR
Sharr Mountains, Kosovo, South Balkans Confederation
Tuesday 29th May 2017, 0100hrs Local Time

To the eternal regret of pretty much everyone some of the monsters who had run the Goodrule Third Spanish States had manged to escape death or capture upon the none-to-soon fall of their regime. Indeed, an organisation, known to intelligence circles as OLEG, had been set up by the Goodrule to facilitate the evacuation of their senior leadership should the worst happen. It was perhaps hardly surprising; for all their oppression and brutality those in senior government and military positions within the Goodrule Regime had lived lives of luxury, it only made sense that they would have planned an exit strategy. Given the atrocities the Goodrule had committed it was perhaps equally unsurprising that more than one organisation the world over had begun to make concerted efforts to bring the Goodrule Criminals to justice… or at least ensuring that they paid for their crimes with their lives. One such organisation was the Secret Intelligence Service, or as it was better known to the public; MI6. Considering the pain and suffering the Goodrule had inflicted upon British people an entire division within MI6 had been established to capture or kill as many Goodrule Criminals as physically possible and had been working hard in that regard ever since.

Perhaps the biggest target for the Goodrule Crimes Division of MI6 was the man known only as ‘the Viper’.

The Viper had been a senior figure within the Goodrule Special Forces, he had personally led the assault team that had ambushed the Royal Convoy attempting to spirit the Queen Elizabeth II and the Duke of Edinburgh from London during the Fall of Britain. Although it had never been officially confirmed, it was widely accepted that the Viper had personally executed both the Duke and the Queen before leading the ‘Royal Squad’ in hunting down the rest of the Windsor Family and had been very successful in doing just that. It had taken a great deal of time, effort and old-fashioned spy work to track down the Viper but it had been done, and he had been tracked to the Sharr Mountains region of Kosovo, in the lawless South Balkans Confederation. Given the proximity to the Romans, Achaeans, Soviets and god knew what else a military strike to take him out was not an option, so MI6 had elected to turn to old-fashioned wet work.

Which was where Adam Spencer came in.

A former officer in the Special Boat Service, Lt. Commander Spencer had been scooped up by MI6 to serve as a field operative and had excelled in that regard ever since. It had become obvious that the Viper’s security was set up in such a way that they would be able to detect even a Special Forces team approaching his position, even a sniper would struggle to get a good shot on him. By ingratiating themselves with local villages they ensured a wide early warning net even the likes of the Special Air Service, one of the one’s premier special operations forces, would struggle to avoid. As such the only way British intelligence was going to get a shot at the Viper was to infiltrate these very villages. So over a year ago now Adam Spencer had been placed into the area as a gun runner; not a particularly unusual occupation in the South Balkans Confederation and had steadily set about building up his reputation and his cover to the point where he was now the principal weapons supplier for the Viper’s group. The only thing keeping the monster alive, aside from Spencer’s restraint, was the amount of intelligence he was providing. The minute that changed he would be dead.

On the night of the reveal of Princess Elizabeth’s survival Spencer had been summoned to the compound in which the Viper made his home, seemingly his militia needed new weapons. So despite the hour Spencer had pulled on some clothes; rugged cargo pants, a t-shirt and a field jacket, picked up his personal sidearm, a big, loud Desert Eagle very in fitting with his cover, and made his way from the building he rented from the locals and stored all his equipment in. Almost all of the weapons he sold to the various criminal groups in the South Balkans Confederation (SFC) came with tiny trackers built into them that would allow British intelligence to track them if they ever became a problem, and the profits were used to fund additional aspects of MI6s field operations budget. When he made it to the compound he was greeted by the Viper’s master-at-arms who did indeed want to speak to him regarding a consignment of weapons. They were to speak in the same room as the Viper so he could keep an eye on the transaction, and the Viper hurled his normal semi-good natured abuse at Spencer, as a Brit, as he entered the room.

The Viper, although thin and supple, in combat he was known to be fast and slipper, hence his name, was a monster none the less. He might have been attractive once, but the turmoil of fighting for much of his life, as well as the damage inflicted upon him on more than one occasion by the British Resistance, not to mention the trials of surviving after the Fall of the Goodrule, had taken its toll. The man who was a monster on the inside had been turned into a monster on the outside as well, scars covered his body including his face, but anyone who thought that he was out of his game as a result would be sorely mistaken. Spencer had watched the Viper personally fend off challenges for leadership of his militia and he had utterly annihilated anyone he had come up against. Neither the luxury of his the perks of his position in the Goodrule Regime, nor the trials of his existence since, had blunted the Viper’s infamously brutal edge.

As Spencer was discussing the weapons with the Master-at-Arms he could see the Viper in an animated conversation with several of his senior advisors. He could not quite hear what was going on, and he did not want to draw attention to himself by attempting to listen in, so he instead decided to take advantage of his strong working relationship with the Master-at-Arms.

“What’s that all about?” Spencer frowned, gesturing his head over at the Viper’s tirade, speaking in Spanish.

“That British Princess, she’s a Windsor… the Viper largely built his reputation on killing off the entire British Royal House of Windsor, to discover that one escaped him is infuriating to him, not to mention utterly embarrassing,” The Master-at-Arms replied quietly, not wanting to be overheard putting this into words. “The Viper wants this Windsor Bitch dead, he would go and do it himself if he was not so obviously recognizable, or as hunted as he is, but he wants her dead none the less, he sees it as an unacceptable loose end.”

“What does he intend to do?” Spencer queried. “Surely the Princess is safe in Britain.”

“You might very well think that,” The Master-at-Arms smiled wryly. “I couldn’t possibly comment.”

Her Royal Highness The Princess Elizabeth of Wales
Windsor, England
Tuesday 29th May 2017, 0900hrs Local Time

“Well, that was unexpected,” Elizabeth commented wryly.

Sir William Churchill, sat beside her in the back of the vehicle taking both of them to a speaking engagement at Windsor, chosen for both the connection with her family name and the symbolism of her first speech being within sight of Windsor Castle, one of the key centres of the British Monarchy, nodded his head in agreement. The sudden decision of the Realm of Cotland to recognize Elizabeth’s claim to the throne had been unexpected to say the least. It had also thrown the political situation into something akin to a meltdown; the Dutch already distrusted the Cottish of course, but their endorsement of the Princess was seen by many as yet another reason why the King and the Soer Government ought to get themselves out of Britain sooner rather than later. Their King’s claim upon the British Throne was already angering the Dutch, if they now faced the possibility of increased tensions with the Cottish over the matter then this had the very real potential to turn from anger to open opposition. Attempting to claim a foreign throne was bad enough, particularly if it was not supported by the subjects of that foreign throne, but if they were now going to have to fight for it, with the cost in lives and money associated with it, then it went from vexing to fundamentally unacceptable.

It would undoubtedly be helpful for Elizabeth’s cause, but it was also an unpleasant reminder of present realities.

“They’ll be positioning themselves to be seen by us in a positive light, I presume, Ma’am,” Sir William commented bluntly, all too aware that discussing the future was a dangerous thing when Elizabeth was not yet Queen. “Especially regarding Scotland.”

“Scotland is a subject we are not going to see eye-to-eye on with the Cottish, Sir William, aside from the fundamental issues I have with them regarding their conquest of what I rightfully part of this United Kingdom, I also cannot bring myself to forgive them to what they did to Glasgow, even if the bastard responsible paid for with his life for his war crimes,” Elizabeth replied hotly, clearly this was a matter she felt strongly on. “And that is without even considering the not unsubstantial amount of land and real estate, owned by my family and others, that has been wrongly appropriated by the Cottish without restitution, they have Balmoral for Christ’s sake, the place of my birth and a much needed refuge for my family, in the hands of yet more foreigners who have no right over it.”

“Perhaps, Ma’am, but I suspect the Cottish will be as intransigent as you on the matter, as far as I can tell they believe they have an historical claim,” Sir William said with a heavy sigh, the heat of youth all too clear in his younger charge. “I suppose there might be options to purchase the territory, as ignominious as that would be, but I question if even that will be possible, and I suspect they will be as stubborn as you.”

“Spoken with all due respect, I presume, Sir William,” Elizabeth chuckled, letting the Scottish matter drop for the moment, they had to make her Queen first before she could start worrying overly much about affairs of state. “Oh look, we’re just about here, and… I say, look at the size of that crowd!”

The crowd waiting for them was indeed a large one; thousands of men, women and children had turned out to see their Princess speak; standing in stark contrast to the generally muted welcome the Dutch King received on the occasion he travelled within Britain. This was a good thing of course, it indicated that there was a great deal of popular support for the Windsor Princess, but it was also a security nightmare. Although the Soer Government had yet to respond publically to all that was happening they had instructed the Metropolitan Police not to offer protective services to the young Princess. This meant that the Princess would be very exposed in a busy crowd which, whilst clearly supportive could easily give cover to someone with less favourable intentions. Fortunately Sir William had been able to provide a solution, and as such Elizabeth was currently being protected by private security from the New East India Company (NEIC). The corporation, formed by Sir William and other influential individuals shortly after the Liberation in order to allow Britain to start rebuilding both its interests and reputation overseas, had flourished significantly in the years since its foundation and had a number of lucrative contracts, particularly in the East Indies.

It was also the only private security organisation authorised to carry weapons within Britain itself.

Only once the NEIC Security Division operatives, dressed in conservative suits to better blend in, were satisfied with their perimeter was Elizabeth and Sir William permitted to leave their vehicle, stepping out into a wave of noise as the crowd cheered upon catching sight of their Princess. Elizabeth waved and walking with Sir William began to make their way forwards towards the stage. Around them the NEIC Security were watching the crowd with a professionalism and attention to detail akin to an official security detail; they knew that if there was an assailant in the crowd it was entirely possible that he would get one or more shots off, that it was their job to either try and prevent that or otherwise protect their principal and kill the assailant. It was for that reason that at least two operatives remained close to the Princess at all times, as close as they could get without being too intrusive. It was an unusual sensation for Elizabeth to be so protected, but she knew she was going to have to get used to it. Indeed, this was tame by many standards, as if she had official protection she’d have far more officers and more resources around her.

As it turned out it was fortunate that she had at least the NEIC protecting her

As they passed another group of crowd and made their way behind the stage to gather themselves before appearing on the stage, Elizabeth suddenly found herself being pushed to the floor by one of the NEIC Operatives. Three distinctive cracks ripped the air apart as three shots were fired towards her from a 9mmhandgun, which was promptly replied to by a burst of fire from the heavier .45 calibre M1911s carried by the NEIC. Screams began to fill the air as the crowd panicked and more shots rang out as additional shooters engaged the NEIC Security detail, two members of which were doing their best to cover Elizabeth as best as possible. Not satisfied to simply lie there and wait to be killed Elizabeth insisted upon, and received, one of her protectors backup weapon and gripped it tightly as the firefight raged around her, the superior training of her protectors shining through as they took out their assailants. She did not know it at the time but she had been photographed several times carrying her borrowed pistol, a determined look upon her expression, images that would become iconic in short order.

After a few more moments, that felt like hours, silence descended over the area as the gunshots ceased and the crowd, some of which had dispersed, began to calm down now that the shooting had stopped. Climbing to her feet from her kneeling position Elizabeth looked around herself, finding all of other NEIC protectors still alive, although two had flesh wounds, and all three of their attackers dead, with no civilian casualties; the NEIC had been very careful to keep their shots well disciplined. Unarmed officers of the Metropolitan Police who had been policing the event now rushed forwards, and in due course officers from the elite SCO19 armed response division would be on the scene, but the attack was for all intents and purposes, over. The NEIC detail leader strongly recommended moving to a more defendable position but Elizabeth overruled him and handing the borrowed pistol back to the operative she had taken it from she squared her shoulders and walked out onto the stage, waving to the crowd who roared their approval of her decision to still speak despite the attack.

“Good Morning! My that was exciting wasn’t it? It’d be remiss if I didn’t take this opportunity to immediately and whole-heartedly thank the members of my security detail, provided by the New East India Company, for their bravery and dedication, without whom I may very well not have survived to speak to you here today,” Elizabeth said with a broad smile and a nod to her protectors, who received an ovation from the crowd, the NEIC’s stock would do vey well out of this. “Never the less it is a great pleasure to be here with you today; it was so very difficult to watch in exile as this country suffered through so much pain and horror under the Goodrule, as it threw off its oppressors and tried to forge a new future for itself, but one that was dangerously unfocused.”

Elizabeth paused.

“For the second time in the lives of most of us, Britain is under the thumb of a Foreign Regime; the British people have suffered and endured so much in my lifetime, suffering and depravities inflicted upon us by those only interested in our resources, our people and our heritage, taking away from us our God-given right to self-determination,” Elizabeth continued, the depth of feeling entering her tone as she spoke. “The False King who currently rules in London may not by as tyrannical as the Goodrule Terror, yet by removing our right to self-rule, by forcing the British people to subservient themselves to a foreign King, he is doing as much harm to our people and our national psyche as the Goodrule, if in a different way; and this is not a state of affairs that I am prepared to accept.”

Elizabeth paused again.

“We are not forced into a position where we are called to meet the challenge of a principle; that the people should be ruled, not only by one of their own, but by one of their own choosing; the British Crown has always embodied the heart and soul of the British people, something a foreign King can never hope to do,” Elizabeth continued. “For the sake of all that we hold dear; our traditions, our spirit and our honour, I now call you to this great task; I ask you to stand calm, firm and united against foreign tyranny, to support my claim to the British Throne for you, my people… there may be dark days ahead, but by the grace of god we shall prevail… thank you, and god bless.”

Sir Jonathan Edwards KBE
New Broadcasting House, London
Tuesday 29th May 2017, 1800hrs Local Time

“Good Evening… this is London... and it’s Six o’clock… the Soer Government has finally broken its silence over the survival of Princess Elizabeth following the attempt on her life earlier today on her way to her first major speaking engagement; an engagement she attended despite the attempt on her life much to the approval of the crowd,” Sir Jonathan began his broadcast, as images of the attack, including the now iconic picture of the Princess gripping a pistol with determination in her eyes. “The Soer Government strongly denied claims from some that they had attempted to assassinate the Princess, a claim that was backed up by Sir William Churchill this afternoon after being provided with classifed intelligence pointing towards the culprit, and confirming that the Princess would henceforth be protected by the Protection Command of the Metropolitan Police.”

Sir Jonathan paused.

“The Soer Government also acknowledged reports from St. Mary’s Hospital confirming that the Princess is indeed exactly who she claims to be, the Princess Elizabeth of Wales, and indicated that it would begin to seek further legal advice regarding the constitutional situation,” Sir Jonathan continued. “The Government did not however make any commitments to bow to the increasingly loud voices within Britain calling for the Dutch King to renounce his claim on the British Throne and all of his British titles and to formally end Dutch administration.”

Sir Jonathan paused once more.

“Sir William Churchill was heavily critical of the Soer Government’s lacklustre response to the developing political crisis, suggesting that it was either uncertain of how to proceed, and thus indecisive, or that it was unable to adequately deal with an intransigent King,” Sir Jonathan added. “Regardless of which of these is true it is becoming increasingly clear that the Soer Government has been caught flat-footed by the developing crises, both in Britain and at home in the Netherlands, and is ill-suited to handle the situation, only exacerbated by the Cottish declaration yesterday evening.”

Sir Jonathan paused seriously.

“Sources within Soer’s own party have suggested that questions are already being asked of Soer’s leadership during this crisis, calling into question his continued leadership of the party, disastrous during a election campaign,” Sir Jonathan continued, as an image of the breakdown of seats appeared on the screen. “Few can argue that, if the Soer Government were to fall, that the Dutch would be able to continue to realistically administrate Britain, however Sir William and other nationalist voices are unlikely to be satisfied to rely on such an outcome and are likely to force the matter before the election, especially as there are increasing suggestions that the British should not recognize the validly of these elections…”

[Cotland]

Offices of the Chancellor
Government Square
Oslo, Realm of Cotland
Tuesday, 30 May 2017 -- 14:20

In the meeting hall adjacent to the personal offices of the Chancellor of Cotland on the fourteenth floor of the main administration building at the Government Square, located in downtown Oslo just 700 meters from the Royal Palace, the cabinet had assembled twenty minutes earlier for the first of the two regularly scheduled weekly meetings where government policy was discussed and coordinated.

"So the declaration got the Dutch all riled up, just like we planned to. The Soer government may very well be history within a forthnight." Helene Styrtenstiert, a forty-seven year old career politician with a background from the diplomacy and current incumbent Foreign Minister of the Realm of Cotland stated as she closed up her summary of the events of the previous day. To say that the Foreign Ministry was watching the situation in England closely was an understatement, to put it mildly.

"Excellent," Chancellor Andreas Riis Dahle stated with a smug grin on his lips. He, like many Cots was no great fan of the Dutch presence on the continent, and the Dutch and Banjamo before them had rubbed the Cottish the wrong way since the fall of the Goodrule which had preceeded them. So, it was entirely consistent with government policy to throw as many spanners in the mix for them as they could possibly get away with.

"However, I was surprised with the assassination attempt on Elizabeth earlier today. Did we do that?!" He asked the Director of the Cottish Intelligence Service, who had provided the cabinet with an intelligence update on matters that had transpired since the last meeting of the Cabinet on the previous Friday.

"No sir," the General replied. "It wasn't us."

"Are you certain?"

"I'm positive. We had operatives in place in the crowd to gather information, yes, but solely to gather information and get a feel for the popular mood. No 'special' assets are presently outside the Realm's borders."

"Was it the Dutch?"

"No sir. The Dutch Government has strongly denied any allegations that they were behind this -- Soer himself went public to deny this."

"Then who was it?" Foreign Minister Styrtenstiert demanded.

"We do not know that at present. Our assets in both London and Amsterdam are attempting to ascertain that as we speak."

"Please step up our efforts. Also, if we could get our assets within England manouvered to where they might be in place to replace Dutch officials when the Dutch pull out..."

"We are redoubling our efforts on that front sir."


England
As one might expect, the Cottish Intelligence Service was much like an octopus, having many long tentacles in many places. Given the high level of animosity between the Realm of Cotland and the Banjamo and later Dutch Empire, it should come as no surprise that the Cottish Intelligence Service had several operatives working in and around England. Several were attached to the Cottish consulate in London, having official covers with diplomatic immunity that allowed them to move about with relative impunity. There were also several that were so-called "illegals", i.e. persons that had been smuggled into England and were operating without official cover or diplomatic immunity. Hence, they were fair game for the English counter-intelligence and subsequently experts in concealing their activities and generally staying well below the English radar.

Each of these illegals had their own tasks from Oslo, and were developing networks of English nationals, so-called assets, that were providing them with information on various topics, many of them without knowing that the information they were providing was going back to the dreaded Cottish.

One of these assets was Tessa Chowles, a thirty-four year old single mother with three small mouths to feed. Tessa was a member of the lower class, having barely managed to get her GCSE before dropping out. After a few years of partying, sudden pregnancies and a nasty divorce, she had finally managed to land a job as a cleaning lady, cleaning the floors and toilets at Windsor Castle after hours. When she wasn't working late or keeping her children out of trouble, Tessa was struck by pangs of loneliness.

Fortunately, she had met a man a few months ago that she believed to be the man of her dreams. His name was David, thirty-two years old and fantastic in every way. They had hit it off immediately, and it was like he could read her mind. After a few weeks, she had started to open up to him about everything: her inner feelings, her hopes and dreams, the happenings of her life, and, critically, what was going on at work. She was going to meet David after work tonight in what was fast becoming a regular part of her daily routine, and did she have exciting things to tell him about the day's events! He, like all Englishmen, was very excited about the new Queen, and Tessa could offer something no one else could: insight into how things happened behind the scenes.

Unbeknownst to Tessa and anyone else in England, David wasn't really named David, and everything she told him was passed on to Oslo. Hence, before the night was out, the Cottish had received another intelligence update on the nightly activity at Windsor Castle. Most of it was completely irrelevant, but it was interesting to note who was observed at the castle as this could be indications of who was in the prospective Queen's inner circle, as well as her own personal evening routine, which would go into her intelligence dossier.

The spy game was very much alive.

[Layarteb]

May 29, 2017 - 14:00 hrs [UTC-5]
Layarteb City, New York
Fortress of Comhghall
(40° 41' 28" N, 74° 0' 58" W)

Memorial Day, the last Monday in May, was considered a national holiday in the Empire of Layarteb. It was one of twelve, floating holidays recognized by the Layartebian government. Originally established to honor the war dead of the Third Layartebian War, it had become a day with two meanings. The first was the original meaning, the honoring of the war dead. The second was a celebration to their sacrifice with the unofficial beginning of summer. Of course, that it was a national holiday did not mean that the business of government should cease. Governmental offices were closed to the public but skeleton crews still worked away to ensue complete continuity, especially in the ministries of Defense, Foreign Affairs, Intelligence, and Justice, where holidays meant little to nothing. That something was happening in England certainly was not met with glee from the Emperor or his senior Cabinet members who all were called in for an emergency meeting.

Those senior members made up the Special Council, which with the Emperor constituted the eight higher offices in the land. The Emperor arrived first as naturally the meeting was held at the Fortress of Comhghall. Chairman-General Barnes of the Joint Chiefs of Staff arrived second with Minister Sanders of Defense in tow. Minister Fisher of Foreign Affairs arrived together with Minister Cooper of Justice, as both lived near to one another and a single helicopter had been sent for their transport. Minister Flores of Intelligence arrived next followed by Minister Spears of the Interior, and last but not least, Robert Crawford, the National Security Advisor, arrived. All eight took seats around the conference table in the Emperor's office. In the anteroom, Helen Fuller closed the door behind them and the meeting began.

"I'm sorry to have to call you all in on this day but matters in England are highly unnerving. I presume everyone has seen the broadcasts and read the reports?" Heads nodded as audible affirmations filled the room. "Good now let's not waste any time. Who is this 'Elizabeth' and where did she come from? I was under the impression that the Goodrule leadership slaughtered the entire royal family in their conquest of that island."

"Sir, she is the last surviving member of the royal family," Minister Flores answered, "her claim to the throne is fully legitimate in the sense of who she is."

"Where did she come from?"

"Here sir," Minister Flores said. The Emperor looked straight to his Minister of Intelligence in total disbelief.

"Here? How was I unaware that this was happening and who approved this?"

"Sir it was done by your predecessor. Just as the Empire shielded and protected King Sverre from the Cottish Flu Pandemic so too did he authorize the protection of Elizabeth Windsor. She was carried here in secretly and kept here with foreign papers. She was enrolled in the Naval Academy at Annapolis under the foreign student program. She graduated just a few weeks ago sir."

"So we harbored this person and hid her from the Goodrule barbarians only to have her now begin a revolution of sorts against the newly refounded British Empire? Are you aware that we were not on hostile terms with the Kingdom of Holland nor are we on hostile terms with the British government of Prime Minister Soer? Quite the opposite!" The Emperor's temper began to flare, "This is ludicrous if nothing. There is no way that this government can sponsor an independence movement of England and Wales. Is there?" No one agreed. "So what was the plan Carmen?"

"Sir, she was retrieved shortly after her graduation by the very man that brought her here. Her return to England was done without our knowledge sir."

"So we were protecting her and we lost her? Well some protectors we are," the Emperor scoffed. "This is utter nonsense and truly garbage. Now we have a situation in London, in England and Wales, and we are complicit in this. For starters, I want to make sure that Prime Minister Soer knows where we stand on this. We have worked well with his government and this policy by my predecessor, unknown to me until this moment in time, is not one that I would have rejected but not one that I would have allowed to run unchecked as evidently it has been. What's next? What happens when they find out she really is the 'heir to the throne'?"

"Sir it's possible that there will be an uprising of sorts. The English people and the Welsh people suffered greatly under the Goodrule government. The Banjamosi identity was something different but again it was something unique. It stripped them of perhaps their own identity. With the Kingdom of Holland forming a union of kingdoms under the 'British' banner there is perhaps another perceived loss of identity, never mind that the Dutch did not intend to usurp their identity but rather make it the sole identity. This would undo everything that Soer and his compatriots worked to build. It would be catastrophic and could very well lead to a chain reaction in France, Germany, and the rest of the Low Countries, all in rejection of the banner of the 'British Empire,' which is but a meaningless nameplate now," Minister Fisher responded.

"What do we know about Elizabeth Windsor? What does this mean for us and for the Cottish, surely Scotland is a question to be answered. These people keep claiming that they are the rightful heirs to the British identity and surely they will want the entire island as their own, which includes Cottish Scotland, the Hebrides under our control, and the Isle of Man. Perhaps they will see the Irish island as their own as well under this common identity."

"Sir there is no information we can provide on this," Robert Crawford answered, "she was not an individual who exemplified a desire to 'return to the island' so to speak sir. I've been reviewing her class notes from Annapolis. There were no indications of her feelings towards British identity whatsoever sir."

"Which makes this situation all the more dangerous," the Emperor said. "I don't like it and I presume none of you like it. Do we really want to see a fractured Europe? Again? What does that solve? The last time Europe was fractured, it remained that way until the Dutch managed to begin a reunification banner. We're looking at a dangerous time right now, with what has just transpired in Rome, with the questionable stability of the Federation of Lacoze, with the rejuvenation of the Soviet Union, and so on and so forth. This is a dangerous time for the European continent and this bodes well for no one."

"Sir, I believe that we can all be justified right now is taking a cautious approach," Minister Fisher cautioned. "What is the feeling of everyone present if I may ask?"

"From a position of defense and strategy, having a hostile nation right next door to us puts us right back to where we were with Banjamos and the Goodrule Third Spanish States," Minister Sanders said, "but when push comes to shove, a hostile continent is much worse. We can isolate England and Wales with the help of the Cottish and if they and the Soer government can see eye-to-eye then all three of us can isolate the rebellious lot."

"I am in agreement sir," Chairman-General Barnes said, "this Elizabeth Windsor really has no place pulling this right now."

"Sir from my perspective the Soer government is much more of a sure bet," Minister Flores said, which drew a simple agreement from both Minister Spears and Minister Cooper.

"Over to you Robert," the Emperor said as he waited to give his own opinion, though it was already known.

"I believe that we should not make an enemy out of the English but in no way should we support them over the Soer government."

"Then it is settled," the Emperor said, "and unanimously I might add that the English and the Welsh attempts to go their own way are not to be supported by this government. Now let's draw up a strategy for this. We have the Hebrides, the Isle of Man, and the Channel Islands all as being part of the Irish Republic, territories that these people may presume belongs to them by some ridiculous birthright. We are not going to lose these territories to them!"

[Marimaia]

May 30th, 2017, 21:30hrs [UTC +3]
Mariyinsky Palace
Kiev, Ukraine SSR, USSR

"This is what you get from rabble politics decided by a popularity contest."

KGB Chairman Giorgi Shvelidze nodded in agreement at Premier Zharkov's statement. The elections in the British Empire had been of particular interest to the Soviet Union as the British were one of the few formal allies that the USSR had in the world; with the British on side, the Soviets had little to fear from continental Europe aside from the old Cottish enemy to the north. During the invasion of England and Wales by the then-Kingdom of Holland the USSR had been led by Premier Ilyina, who had always preferred not to get involved in the affairs of others even if they were Soviet allies; with Premier Zharkov at the helm, the Soviet Union had adopted a far more interventionist attitude towards international affairs. The developing chaos at the centre of the British Empire's elections was of increasing concern to the Soviet Premier, especially with the blatantly open meddling of the Realm of Cotland there for all to see. Following the attempted assassination of Elizabeth Windsor, Zharkov had called an impromptu meeting with the KGB Chairman Shvelidze and Minister of Foreign Affairs Yuri Matveyev to discuss an immediate response; while there was a regular Politburo meeting scheduled for the following day, Zharkov had no intention of waiting that long before deciding on a course of action. So Zharkov was now sat at his desk in the Premierial Office in Mariyinsky Palace, sipping at a glass of tea with his aide Stepan Krylenko standing at ease at his right side, while Shvelidze and Matveyev sat opposite.

"So what is the current analysis, Giorgi?"

Shvelidze opened a folder which had been compiled by the KGB's foreign political analysts. "According to the latest predictions from the Planning and Analysis Directorate of the KGB First Directorate, there is at least an eighty percent chance that these elections will result in a constituent part of the current British Empire declaring independence; there is a ninety-eight percent chance that the specific constituent part will be the territories of England and Wales, referred to from this point on as the 'British Heartlands'. With regard to the Soer government, it has been determined that this crisis has a seventy-two percent chance of toppling that particular government; if there is a dual blow of both the Soer government falling and the British Heartlands declaring independence, then we are looking at an eighty-one percent chance that the British Empire as it stands will begin to fracture and collapse."

Zharkov shook his head. "So we are looking at the very real possibility of losing our major ally in continental Europe because of this. Well, unlike the Cottish who could not wait to meddle in this mess for their own advantage, we need to be slightly more circumspect. I take it that the Cottish endorsement of Elizabeth Windsor might not be the panic inducement that it first appears to be?"

Shvelidze cleared his throat. "That is correct, Comrade Premier. The Windsors have an ancestral home in Scotland and that territory was part of the British Heartlands until the Cottish occupied it. The Cottish swine point to some flimsy 'ancestral claim' on the Scottish territories and the current British Empire had no designs on that territory; an independent state comprised of the British Heartlands under a Windsor monarch would likely hold a very different viewpoint on the subject. That same independent state may well wish to assert authority over the entirety of the British Isles, which could potentially lead to tensions between them and the Layartebians in regard to the Irish territories. If I may suggest, Comrade Premier...her survival and subsequent reaction to that attempted assassination will have demonstrated that Elizabeth Windsor is a potential national leader. According to KGB records we should not be discounting her associate, Sir William Churchill. He led the British Resistance during the Goodrule Terror and served as the Secretary of State for Defence for the Banjamosi King; he has a proven track record of being particularly capable, and it could be argued that he is a 'revolutionary trying to liberate his people from foreign oppression'."

Zharkov allowed himself a slight smile. "Giorgi, are you suggesting that we should abandon the Soer government?"

Despite his outward appearance, Shvelidze was incredibly relieved to receive that reaction. There had been some degree of tension between himself and Premier Zharkov of late, and it was possible that this situation could provide him with an opportunity to rectify that. "Not at all, Comrade Premier. What I am suggesting is that we officially allow the elections to run their course, this is, after all, an entirely internal British matter. However, we could suggest to the Soer government that Elizabeth Windsor needs to be monitored more closely and that it could not be done by anyone in the employ of the Soer government, but the KGB are renowned for being able to monitor anyone without being caught. We could insert someone into her security detail or her inner circle for the purposes of keeping an eye on her. What we would not tell the Soer government is that the KGB operative in question has actually been inserted with the full knowledge of Elizabeth Windsor and Sir William Churchill. That way, the Soer government will continue to see us as good allies keeping track of a potential troublemaker, and we can open discussions with the Windsor-Churchill movement under the guise of infiltrating their security or inner circle of advisors."

Zharkov peered at Shvelidze over the rim of his spectacles as he took another sip of tea, then smiled more broadly. "That is exactly the sort of idea that I would come up with, I approve. Comrade Matveyev, I want you to release an official statement condemning the blatant Cottish attempt to interfere in the election process of a fellow democracy, pointing out their hypocrisy as they would condemn any attempt by another power to interfere in their elections. Make it abundantly clear that the Soviet Union regards the election process as an internal British affair, that we will respect whichever outcome the election ultimately provides and that we will be more than pleased to continue working with any government which is formed as a result of these elections. Phrasing it that way means that we are not necessarily tied to working with one particular state's government after the elections, as stating 'any government' is different to stating 'the government of the British Empire'.

"Comrade Shvelidze, I want you to identify a KGB operative worthy of the proposed assignment. It would have to be someone of British nationality because someone with an accent from the Soviet Union or a potentially traced origin in the USSR would be obvious and the target of much suspicion. Contact MI6 and put forward our proposal to insert a KGB operative into the entourage of Elizabeth Windsor for the purposes of monitoring her activities without MI6 having to risk being accused of interference in the election process. Oh, and while I think about it, see if we can get additional 'useful information' on any of the major players. The British Empire has a free press, and the free press do enjoy a good scandal or leak. Just in case it's needed."

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Ministry of Foreign Affairs of the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics
Official Communiqué from the Minister of Foreign Affairs

It is my duty at this time to issue an official response on behalf of the government of the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics regarding the elections which are currently taking place within the British Empire. The election process is an entirely internal political matter for the British Empire, and as an allied state of the British Empire, the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics will certainly observe with interest. However, as it is an entirely internal political matter for the British Empire, observation from afar is where we draw the line. We would like to say that we are surprised by the blatant attempt by the Realm of Cotland to interfere in the British elections, but it is simply the latest in a continuing series of events which have displayed their arrogance and hypocrisy. The Realm of Cotland apparently pride themselves on being a parliamentary democracy and would undoubtedly decry any attempt from an outside power to interfere in their elections, but evidently they have no qualms about interfering in the elections of other parliamentary democracies. This is the same nation which only last year experienced a 'technical glitch' which almost saw their nuclear arsenal launched at the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics, and they have actively refused to even express a modicum of regret for the near-annihilation of millions of innocent people, let alone an apology. The Realm of Cotland has no business attempting to interfere in the democratic process of another nation, but if they view this as acceptable practise then perhaps the nations of the world should interfere in the next Cottish elections and we shall see how they respond.

The Union of Soviet Socialist Republics is shocked to see that Elizabeth Windsor was targeted with violence and we are pleased that she was unharmed during the incident. Such incidents have no place during the process of an election campaign, and we hope that there will no be a repeat of such violence.

The Union of Soviet Socialist Republics wishes to make it clear to all that we will respect whichever outcome the election ultimately provides and that we will be more than pleased to continue working with any government which is formed as a result of these elections. Hopefully the Realm of Cotland will apologise for attempting to interfere in the election and allow it to run its course without further interference, but it is our opinion that the world should not hold our breath for such an occurrence.

Yuri Vladimirovich Matveyev
Minister of Foreign Affairs

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[The Reborn British Empire]

Her Royal Highness The Princess Elizabeth of Wales
Windsor Castle, England
Tuesday 29th May 2017, 2100hrs Local Time

Elizabeth yawned into her tea as she sat in a comfortable chair in one of the many sitting rooms of Windsor Castle, doing her best to listen to Sir William Churchill as he detailed their speaking engagements, together and separate, over the next few days, but after the excitement of the day she was worn out. The Soer Government, in the first hint of a concession, had allowed Elizabeth to stay at Windsor Castle on the grounds that, as much as they might object to her claim to the throne, she was still a British Princess, and that it was far easier to secure the grounds of Windsor Castle than it was to secure her anywhere else. The last thing the Dutch wanted was another attempt on her life for which they might take the blame once more. The move was h allegedly at the command of the King, however Sir William suspected that the young King was far too stubborn to do anything of the sort and that it was instead the Soer Government pushing back at their King’s excesses, perhaps the first indication of just how far they would end up having to push back against their Monarch if they were to retain their own political power.

Of course, there was little else they could do at this point. Although Elizabeth agreed entirely with Sir William that the Soer Government had absolutely nothing to do with the attempt on her life earlier in the day, and that was without seeing the classified information herself, there would always be those that suspected that the Dutch had attempted to murder their rightful Queen. The damage that would do was obvious, even if most knew it to be utter nonsense it was something that many would want to believe. It was just another nail in the coffin that was Dutch rule in Britain; given the sheer outpouring of support for her claim as well as the political upheaval wreaking untold havoc on the Dutch Empire it was becoming increasingly likely that Elizabeth would indeed be Queen. It was partially this realisation that was wearing Elizabeth out, for the first time in her life she had a very real chance of becoming the Queen of a great nation; with all the responsibility that entailed.

“…Your Royal Highness?”

Elizabeth looked over at Sir William to find him watching her carefully; clearly he had asked her a question which she had completely missed, deep in her thoughts as she clearly was.

“Yes, I’m sorry Sir William, I was lost in my thoughts,” Elizabeth said demurely. “What were you saying?”

“I was saying that we ought to get you travelling around the country, we need to get the public endorsements of as many mayors and county councils as possible; we need to present a united front,” Sir William replied. “My thinking is that we ought to get those endorsements, from elected representatives, as well as many signatures on a petition as possible and present it to the Soer Government the day before the election?”

“The day before the election?” Elizabeth frowned. “Not after?”

“We should not be endorsing this election in the slightest; the minute we vote in a Dutch election were legitimise their rule over us because we’ve voted for seats in their Parliament, that makes throwing off the yoke of their rule even harder, even with you,” Sir William shook his head. “If we present our demands to the Soer Government before the election they can either turn down our demands and look absolutely tyrannical, at which point we may have to consider other options, or they can call it a day and try to hold together the rest of their Empire.”

Elizabeth nodded, that certainly made sense. The election was two weeks away, that was more than enough time to visit pretty much every county in England and Wales, if she worked long days as she fully intended to, that combined with a concerted effort to get as many signatures onto an online petition as possible would present overwhelming evidence to the Soer Government that they, and their King, were not wanted. At that point, it was a win-win situation for the British; if the Dutch King accepted the demands they would have one their freedom and national sovereignty, if they refused them they were denying the British their democratic right and none would argue that the British would be well within their rights to fight to throw off their government to reclaim their rights. Although the United Kingdom was a constitutional monarchy it had a long history of restraining the power of the Sovereign, as far back as the Magna Carta, and whilst Sir William suspected that Elizabeth would be a somewhat more powerful, more proactive Monarch going forwards, but she would still be limited heavily. For the Dutch King to defy the people in this way would be unacceptable to the British, and if it came to that then, well, what would happen would happen.

Although Elizabeth hoped it would never come to that.

Before she could respond further to Sir William there was a knock on the door and, after being called in, a stern looking man in the dress uniform of the Metropolitan Police, albeit with a pistol in a dress holster on his hip, bearing the rank insignia of an Inspector.

“Your Royal Highness, sorry for interrupting, but I wanted to introduce myself; I am Inspector Kieran Beaton, from the Royalty Protection Division of the Metropolitan Police,” The Inspector said formally as he explained himself. “I have been directed by the Commissioner of the Metropolis to provide for your security needs, and will be commanding a twelve man close protection detail which will accompany you nationwide, a twelve-man area detail and liaise with local constabularies for wider protective services.”

Elizabeth nodded slowly, a little taken aback by the sheer amount of security that was about to surround her. Whilst in exile she had not needed any security, after all she was not supposed to be anyone important, but after the attempt on her life she was grateful, if shocked, for the extra protection.

“A pleasure to meet you, Inspector,” Elizabeth said after recovering herself, standing and offering her hand. “It is comforting to know that I will be under the protection of the Metropolitan Police, the Protection Command’s reputation speaks for itself.”

“Thank you, Ma’am,” Inspector Beaton nodded. “I will remain in service uniform and remain in close proximity to you at all times, the twelve officers of the close protection detail will secure your immediate surroundings, whilst the area detail will secure the area in co-operation with the local constabulary.”

“Very well, I’ll defer to your experience in such matters,” Elizabeth nodded simply, gesturing to one of the chairs as Sir William excused himself to get about Elizabeth’s plans for the next few days. “Have a seat please, Inspector… what’s your story?”

“My story, Ma’am?” Inspector Beaton frowned slightly as he settled into the seat.

“How did you become to be a police officer?” Elizabeth elaborated. “I note that you wear the ribbon of the Resistance Medal.”

“I wanted to be a police officer since I was a child, I come from a long line of police officers so its almost the family business, but I wanted to do it for my own ends, I attended university and joined the Met shortly before the Goodrule Invasion,” Inspector Beaton replied, leaning back in his chair. “I joined Colonel Churchill’s resistance almost as soon as it began, and fought in a number of engagements over the ten years, once the war was over I returned to the Met, promoted to Sergeant and subsequently to Inspector, and here I am.”

“Here you are,” Elizabeth agreed. “Tell me, Inspector, what do you think of my claim?”

“Ma’am… I’m not sure it’s appropriate for me to…”

“Inspector, if you are going to protect me we need to be honest with each other,” Elizabeth said firmly, she knew he was trying to maintain neutrality given he technically served the Dutch King’s Government. “If you disagree with me I’d rather know it, so what do you think of my claim?”

“I think that I did not fight for ten years just to have another foreign King come waltzing in and take over again, to have the sacrifice of every man, woman and child who died at the hand of the Goodrule be reduced to nothing,” Inspector Beaton admitted, glancing away from Elizabeth before looking back. “I think that for all the King and his Government tried to lessen the blow by calling it the ‘British’ Empire rather than the ‘Dutch’ Empire, it was just an attempt to have us assimilate better by believing our national identity was the one that mattered.”

“You disagreed, I take it,” Elizabeth commented wryly.

“I do; the British, French, German and, yes, the Dutch, are four far too different peoples to come together under a single culture or national identity, that we are each proud and fiercely independent, not well-suited for being made subservient to another,” Inspector Beaton nodded. “There is a reason, after all, why, with the possible exception of the Roman Empire, there has never been a true European Empire; each of cultures are far too independent for that, there is a reason why Europeans build Empires, because they themselves are not suited for subjugation.”

Elizabeth smiled slightly.

“Let me guess, Inspector, you studied history at University?” She queried.

“History and Politics… but it’s as true today as it has always been; there will always be those who accept subjugation in return for various boons, and those that will always reject it out of hand,” Inspector Beaton replied. “That was part of the reason for the success of the British Empire back in the day, we ruled over territories were more people were prepared to accept subjugation than would fight us.”

Elizabeth smiled; she enjoyed discussing such academic matters and she had not expected to find such an academic mind in her lead protector; it was a pleasant surprise to say the least. It would also be encouraging to know that she had at her disposal a mind she could bounce ideas off when she was Queen; the Inspector was sworn to keep her secrets as much as to keep her safe, so he was naturally cleared to the highest classification levels. She was getting ahead of herself of course, she still had to actually become Queen, but things were coming together nicely.

“I think we’re going to get along just fine, Inspector,” Elizabeth commented. “Indeed, once this is all over I hope you’ll accept appointment as Queen’s Police Officer.”

“It would be my honour, Ma’am,” Inspector Beaton nodded with a smile.

Commander Michael Sheridan
New Scotland Yard, London
Wednesday 30th May 2017, 0900hrs Local Time

Commander Michael Sheridan of the Metropolitan Police sipped a cup of earl grey tea as he looked out over the Thames from the New Scotland Yard on Victoria Embankment as the briefing room filled up behind him. Commander Sheridan was the officer-in-charge of the Metropolitan Police’s Special Branch, the unit, the oldest of its type, responsible for national security and intelligence related matters, which meant they were responsible for (amongst other things) the capture of foreign spies and counter-terrorism. Each police service maintained a Special Branch, their intelligence and counter-terrorism work co-ordinated by the Security Service (MI5). Therefore, when a woman claiming to be a long-lost Windsor heir, and had subsequently been proven as such, got herself shot at by multiple assailants it was Special Branch who had been tasked with investigating the attack as well as preventing any other attacks. The officers provided by Protection Command would do their best to fend off an attack, but it was up to Special Branch at the direction of the Security Service to try and prevent that from ever happening. Technically speaking at the moment they were just ensuring the protection of a VIP, but no one was foolish enough to forget that this woman was very likely to be their next Queen.

Sheridan finished his drink and placed it down on the lectern upon which his notes were resting and watched as the team he had put together for the inquiry filed into the room. The majority of them were in smart clothing, only were in uniform, but given that the majority of Special Branch were Detectives this was perhaps hardly surprising. Of those in uniform Sheridan was the only one in formal uniform, but as a senior officer it was expected. Much to his regret Sheridan would not be leading this investigation, that responsibility fell to Detective Superintendent (DSU) Joseph Fitzgerald who he had appointed as senior investigating officer (SIO), but it was Sheridan that would shoulder ultimate responsibility and as such he intended to watch the inquiry very carefully. Sheridan waited until the gathered team settled fully into their seats, shook hands with DSU Fitzgerald and took his place at the lectern.

“Good morning ladies and gentlemen, thank you all for gathering on such short notice; I’ve called you all here today because you are the best and brightest that Special Branch has to offer, I need the best because this investigation is an unusual one; we ‘ve got to bring the kind of resources we’d reserve for Royalty or Government to an inquiry that, for political reasons, we cannot do so,” Sheridan explained, many had no doubt been wondering why it was comparatively a small team for the importance of the investigation. “A security detail has been provided for the Princess by SO14, the objective of our inquiry is to identify the people responsible for the attack and to round them up; this is our bread and butter people, we treat these people like the terrorists they are and we take them down the same way.”

Sheridan nodded to a uniformed PC who began to hand out folders to each of the officers present.

“What I am about to tell you now is classified at the highest level; the information in your folders comes from MI5 courtesy of their cousins over at Vauxhall Cross; according to an on-the-ground source the driving force behind the attack on Princess Elizabeth is currently located in Kosovo in the South Balkans Confederation and operates under the alias of ‘The Viper’,” Sheridan continued, pausing long enough to allow the muttering that broke out to settle down. “By the sounds of it I don’t need to tell you all who The Viper is, but that, people, is what we are up against; now we’ve long suspected that the Goodrule Secret Police left a number of stay-behind units in Britain, now most of these were rounded up by us and the Security Service over the past five years, but clearly we missed one or more.”

Sheridan paused.

“We must not underestimate these cells, if our intelligence is correct these cells have been hidden in Britain for over five years now; the one that attacked the Princess only became known to us when they opened fire; they likely have the resources and tradecraft of professional spies or the IRA at the height of the troubles; these are no common terrorists and were must approach them as such,” Sheridan said firmly. “But we are no common police officers, we are not only Special Branch but we are the Special Branch of the Metropolitan Police Service; we are the oldest unit of our kind in the world, these Goodrule bastards are not out of our league by any stretch of the imagination; so we’ll hunt them down as we’ve hunted down countless spies and terrorists and we will end their threat.”

Sheridan paused again and took a moment to look out at the nodding faces of his team. He didn’t expect anything less from them, all of them were eager, ambitious and the best officers he had at his disposal. They were also all volunteers for this sort of work; Special Branch could be a lonely and violent business, counter-terrorism was undoubtedly dangerous but counter-intelligence was full of intrigue and mortal danger; situations could go bad quickly but the intelligence war was also fought by an unspoken, uncodified set of rules; one that almost everyone followed. The Goodrule were not one of those, but then this was not a true counter-intelligence mission, it was far closer to counter-terrorism albeit against groups that were far superior to your average terrorist cell, and these were by no means slouches when it came to tradecraft.

“I’ll leave Detective Superintendent Fitzgerald to brief you in detail, but this inquiry is going to require a lot of good old-fashioned police work; we are unlikely to uncover these cells through any of their own actions, so we take the suspects killed in the attack on the Princess and we run them back; no matter how much they tried to stay off-the-grid they’ll have interacted with it at some point,” Sheridan continued after taking a sip of water. “We find out how and where they interacted with the grid and we can probably use that to run down their accommodation, supplies and other tell-tale signs we can use to go after the other cells, it would have been nice to have some suspects alive, but I cannot fault NEIC Security; they did their job, now we must do ours.”

Sheridan paused again, ready to hand over to DSU Fitzgerald.

“I have just one more thing to say; this operation is likely to be highly dangerous, the easiest way for the Goodrule Cells to shut down our investigation and give themselves another shot at the Princess it to kill you, and we have no reason to believe they will hesitate to do so, this is a war, ladies and gentlemen, as such I am authorising you to retain your service weapons off-duty,” Sheridan added, unlike most British police officers outside of Firearms units those assigned to Special Branch were all Authorised Firearms Officers (AFOs). “Watch each other’s backs out there and remain aware of your surroundings at all times; its been a long time since we’ve faced a threat like this but as I said this is our bread and brother, we’re trained for this and I have every faith in you, so good luck, and good hunting out there.”

[Cotland]

Official Statement by the Foreign Ministry of the Realm of Cotland

Whilst His Cottish Majesty's Government accepts the basic idea that internal elections within a realm should be held holy, it is the considered opinion of the Corps Diplomatiqué and the Government of the Realm of Cotland that England and Holland are not one, but two seperate realms, and the ongoing Dutch involvement with English politics constitutes an ongoing act of foreign interference into the affairs of another realm. Had this been a matter of, for instance, local elections in the Gelderland province of Holland, which has been part of Holland and sees itself as Dutch in every respect, it would have been another matter entirely and the objections made by the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics would have held true. However, as this involves Dutch interference in a for them foreign matter where they attempt to impose their will upon a foreign people against said people's will, the matter transcends internal national matters and become a supra-national matter.

Hence, His Cottish Majesty's Government feels perfectly justified in both time-heralded customs and its own conscience in adding its opinion into a matter in the near abroad that very much affects His Cottish Majesty's Realm. Accordingly, His Majesty's Government vehemently rejects the outrageous claims made by the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics. It cannot be left unstated that we find it a curious paradox that a totalitarian one-party state that does not allow for free speech or for the people to decide their own fate through fair and free elections have such strong feelings on the importance of such matters.

Furthermore, for the record, His Cottish Majesty's Government again states its unwavering position that any attempted interference in Cottish affairs will be met with a swift and decisive response. For reference, one needs only ask the Nerotikans what happened the last time they attempted to interfere with Cotland.

[The Reborn British Empire]

Sir William Churchill KCB
Albert Square, Manchester
Thursday 1st June 2017, 1200hrs Local Time

Sir William smiled broadly as he stepped out of the Jaguar XJ that had brought him up from London, escorted by two vehicles from the Parliamentary Protection Division from the Metropolitan Police’s Protection Command, and raised his hand to wave to the rather large crowd that had gathered to hear him speech. Even after several weeks of campaigning Sir William was still taken aback by the amount of people turning out to hear him speak. It was an occurrence that he suspected would be unique to this election, given that all the other parties had endorsed his Centrist Party and its campaign to get the Dutch out of Britain once and for all. As such supporters from both sides of the political spectrum, and the moderate centre, could all come together behind the banner of British Sovereignty. Moreover in addition there was a heart-warming cross-section of the British demographic; the bulk of the men, women and indeed children who were present were white, but there were also plenty from the various ethnic communities of immigrants from all the areas that had once made up the British Empire. It was a humbling sight; all facets of the British people coming together in support of one cause, and god only knew how unsettling such scenes must be to the Dutch King in London.

The message was undeniably clear; the Dutch were not wanted.

Of course, it helped that Sir William was widely respected by both sides of the political spectrum. After a half century of increasingly divisive political polarisation, in which Party Leaders were beloved by their own and detested by their opponents; Margaret Thatcher being an obvious example, it was refreshing for all to have a leader of a major party, which the Centrists had certainly become, be so widely respected and liked, even if some disagreed with some of his policies. It went without saying that, if they were successful in placing Princess Elizabeth on her rightful throne, Sir William would be the Prime Minister, given that the Centrists were expected to win a strong majority of seats. Of course, if the situation unfolded like Sir William and his advisors intended, and the Dutch General Election did not happen, then Sir William would lead a caretaker government until a purely British General Election could be called and politics could return to normal, albeit with the addition of a strong Centrist party to the political mix.

As he walked through the crowds, shaking as many hands as his police protectors would allow him to, Sir William considered just that state of affairs. Holding the election would be severely damaging to the British Sovereignty cause; it was this election that was supposed to cement the Dutch control over their Empire by significantly expanding the size of the British Parliament to include MPs from the Continent; if that took place it would be damned difficult to reverse. Worse; it would give legitimacy to the Dutch Regime in Britain. It was for that reason that all of Sir William’s plans, both before and after learning of Princess Elizabeth’s existence, to make his ultimatum the night before the election as due to take place which, if the Dutch acquiesced to the demand, would lead to a cancellation of the general election and the beginning of negotiations to facilitate the withdrawal of the Dutch Government from Britain and the restoration to her throne of the last surviving scion of the Royal House of Windsor. The pressure from within Britain, combined with the increasing domestic unrest in the Netherlands itself was putting the Soer Government in a difficult position.

Sir William climbed the steps onto the stage and once again waved to the crowds before shaking hands with the Mayor of Greater Manchester, sharing a few words before stepping up to the podium and holding up his hands for quiet.

“Good Afternoon Manchester, it is an absolute pleasure to be here in the North once more; and your city is looking absolutely resplendent
in the sun, and it is heart-warming to see so many of you today,” Sir William began. “You all know what my priority for this election has always been; ensuring that the Dutch King knows that we, the British, of all races and creed, are not a nation to be subservient to any other, if the King in London does not understand that, how can he reign over us?”

Sir William paused.

The Monarchy has always been the heart and soul of the British Nation. From the majestic prestige of our Monarchs during the height of the British Empire, to the quiet sense of duty exhibited by George VI during a decade of conflict, to the dignified defiance of Elizabeth II during the darkest days of our history, right up until the very end,” Sir William said, his conviction obvious. “The False King is neither our heart or our soul; no one from the continent could ever hope to understand our people, or our ways, or the sacrifice that we have been compelled to make over the past two decades. The False King might sully Buckingham Palace, Sandringham and Windsor with his presence, and his Prime Minister might sit in Whitehall and dictate our fates, but they can never claim to truly represent us.”

Sir William paused once more.

“Standing against them we have a young woman of Royal blood, who has been in exile from her own nation for her own safety after the death of her entire family; if there is anyone who can understand our sacrifice it is her. Having undergone naval training at the Layartebian Naval Academy she knows all too well how to do her duty,” Sir William said firmly and with absolute sincerity. “Elizabeth Windsor is our Queen, by right of blood and by right of law, and by the best interests of the British people. Moreover; she is the Queen that we would choose for ourselves, not one who has placed himself on the throne for the sake of his own ambition, but one who is doing her duty.”

Sir William paused once more to allow the sounds of agreement to die down.

“I have, for the past few days, been focusing on the virtues of the Princess and her claim, but I would be remiss if I did not point out the failings of the Dutch Regime, both in regards to our own affairs but also matters relating to their own people; by pursuing an ill-advised, and unwanted conquest, for lack of a better term, of Britain,” Sir William added, this part of his speech was aimed at wider audience than just the British before him. “Economically the Dutch Occupation, for that is what it is, simply is not sustainable; by controlling Britain the Dutch must not only maintain forces here to protect against the British military forces, but they must also maintain sufficient garrisons against Cottish Scotland, and in theory, Layartebian Ireland; the cost of doing so is already having a marked impact on the Dutch economy.”

Sir William paused.

“Furthermore, the Dutch King’s ambition is undoing all the hard work his predecessors did in restoring some semblance of Europe after the Cottish Flu pandemic; by overextending himself and not caring enough for those already under his dominion the Dutch King has ensured that dissatisfaction with his rule have spread across his Empire,” Sir William continued. “The Dutch King does not understand that, in order to fulfil territorial ambitions one must bring the people into that effort, make them part of it; as the British Empire did at its height; the diversity I see before me is evidence of that; but I wonder how many Dutch can truly call Britain home, or how many Brits could call Holland, France or Germany home?”

Sir William continued almost immediately

“This same lack of vision, lack of ability to unite a people under a single banner is costing money and lives in the overseas conquests across the seas; by not investing the people in the effort the situation in Pakistan is delicate to say the least; and violence against our patrols is common place,” Sir William continued, murmurs of agreement answered him. “By contrast, over the past days I have been in discussions with the Colonial Councils in Samoa, American Samoa and Mauritius, all three have stated to me that they would prefer administration by our prospective Queen’s Government than by the Dutch, such is their faith in our vision, and their lack of faith in the Dutch King.”

Sir William paused one last time.

“The actions of the Dutch King and His Government a number of matters would be cause enough to question their control over Britain even if we were willing to accept it,” Sir William said simply, to a loud sound of agreement. “The fact of the matter is that we do not, that alone would be cause enough for our to want to rule ourselves again, combined with the pure mismanagement of the Dutch Government leads us to a situation that is simply unacceptable.”

Sir William smiled broadly.

“Therefore, I call upon each and every one of you to sign the petition calling for Her Royal Highness to take her rightful throne back from one who has usurped us,” Sir William said firmly. “And to join me saying in one voice… God Save the Queen!”

Her Royal Highness The Princess Elizabeth of Wales
Windsor Castle, Windsor
Thursday 1st June 2017, 2200hrs Local Time

Elizabeth could not help but simple slightly as she watched the end of Sir William’s speech on the BBC’s Ten o’clock news, it was heart-warming to see such support for her cause as was demonstrated by the raw of approval that had gone up after Sir William’s final words. It was comforting to know that this would not all be for nothing, that she was doing what was right by her people; she was not just doing this because she wanted to be Queen. Moreover, she knew it was this that set her apart from the Dutch King in London; the people were invested in her cause and were actively campaigning for just that. Few could argue that he was a hell of a public speaker, the obvious conviction and pure passion with which he spoke was infectious to say the least, there was little doubt as to why he was the leader of a major party and widely respected; he would be one hell of a Prime Minister when the time came. He also had a shrewd political mind, almost as sharp as his military acumen, it went without saying that he was a worthy successor to the Churchill’s of old, albeit not without some flaws, as did they.

Of course, Sir William was not her only trusted advisor.

Admiral Sir Edward Collingwood had joined at Windsor Castle and was due to accompany her on a visit to the Royal Naval College at Dartmouth where she would begin to plan the seeds for support of her cause within the British military units, just in case the Dutch King decided to make things difficult. Glancing over at him she couldn’t help but smile slightly; white-hearted and distinguished, the old Admiral sat drinking a whisky and watching the news intently; he might only be a few years off retirement but she sincerely hoped he would agree to continue to serve her in some form or another… after everything he had done for her and her family she suspected that he probably would. He was also an invaluable source of information, and something in the news report had caught her attention.

…is this true, about the Dutch Colonies in the Pacific and Indian Oceans?”

“It is, Ma’am, all three islands are all too aware of how unwise it is to go it alone in this day and age, and moreover they know that if we do not force the issue the Dutch are unlikely to let them go in any case,” Collingwood replied thoughtfully as he leant back in his chair to glance over at Elizabeth. “Moreover, none of them have really forgiven the Dutch for what they did to them during Operation Whetstone, the military campaign to take the islands; their naval and air bombardment was not exactly necessary, certainly not to that extent.”

“Their short-sightedness coming back to bite them,” Elizabeth commented. “We should however start thinking about supporting these colonies… what are our naval forces in the Pacific and Indian Ocean like?”

“Enough to start moving ships into position, if we succeed and the Dutch hand them over to us we’ll need to have ships ready to move in,” Collingwood nodded. “For their protection if nothing else, we all know how greedy some in that part of the world can be.”

“They will be there to protect, not to conquer,” Elizabeth said firmly. “Conquest by force of arms should always be a last resort.”

“Indeed, Ma’am, the British Empire’s most successful colonies were those that wanted us there, not those that fought us tooth and nail every step of the way,” Collingwood agreed, nodding his approval of her shrewd assessment. “If we truly are to restore a true British Empire to its former self then we must learn from the mistakes of our past, and ensure that we invest the people of our prospective domains in the effort, rather than ruling through fire and blood.”

“I would not have it any other way, Admiral, that is not me,” Elizabeth replied with a smile. “I might be stubborn, and led by my emotions, but I am not ambitious for ambitious sake; I want to see Britain restored to its rightful place, for its sake, not for mine.”

“We really should talk again about Scotland then,” Collingwood commented warily. “You do realise that we cannot militarily retake the territory, not yet anyway.”

“Of course, I do, but I also have no intention of leaving the people of Scotland under the occupation of a people they do not want and who have visited War Crimes upon them during the conquest,” Elizabeth replied darkly. “I would prefer good relations with the Cottish, they have been rather helpful in unsettling the Dutch, but as long as they retain what is rightfully ours, that can simply not be the case.”

Elizabeth leant back in her chair and sipped her drink.

“We’ll restore Britain through diplomacy if we can, I’ll give them pretty much anything they asked for if they agreed to return Scotland to us, or we’ll go down the military route if they force our hand, one day,” Elizabeth added. “Ultimately however until they return Scotland to its rightful people, we cannot and will not support a foreign policy that will be friendly with those that would occupy our territory.”

“Opposing the Cottish would have us oppose the Layartebians as well,” Collingwood commented.

Elizabeth scowled, a flash of anger filling her eyes.

“The Layartebians! Their last Emperor takes me in and protects me from that would wish to kill me, he gave you promises of support for my cause… that should not change because of a change in circumstances, either a different regime in Britain or a different Emperor, a promise is immune to a change in circumstance, that’s what makes it a promise,” Elizabeth replied. “And yet what do we get in return; utter silence since my return to Britain! If that wasn’t bad enough our spies within the Dutch Foreign Ministry suggests that word has arrived from the Layartebian Ministry of Foreign Affairs insisting that our cause is not supported by them in any way, shape or form.”

Collingwood was silent for a moment; from what her caretakers had told him over the years, Elizabeth’s two main flaws, as she had admitted previously, was her stubbornness and her ability to hold grudges. If someone made an enemy of her, or worse she made an enemy of them, it tended to be hard to dissuade her of that notion.

‘If you would make enemies, or have them make enemies with of you through their actions, of both the Cottish and the Layartebians, we cannot do it alone,” Collingwood said firmly. “We need to either build up our Empire, or we need allies.”

“Well the Germans are as cross at the Dutch as we are, they are an option,” Elizabeth commented. “The only other option in our neck of the woods are…”

“The Soviets,” Collingwood nodded. “That will really make an enemy of the October Alliance.”

“Indeed it will, and whilst I would rather not take sides on their little spat with the Soviet Union, if they are going to be our enemies anyway we may as well not fight alone,” Elizabeth said simply. “Their political ideology might be different from our own, but as long as they keep it to themselves, then we would not be the most unusual bedfellows, as much as I would prefer a Tsar in Russia, I’ll take a Premier.”

“I suppose the situation is forcing us to take sides, and unless the Cottish and Layartebians are going to give us what we want, that leaves us with only one option,” Collingwood nodded.

“In that case, I think it’s about time we sent an envoy to the Soviets," Elizabeth said simply. "Who is our man in Kiev?"

[Layarteb]

May 31, 2017 - 09:00 hrs [UTC-5]
Layarteb City, New York
Fortress of Comhghall
(40° 41' 28" N, 74° 0' 58" W)

The crisis that had exploded in the British Empire had the potential to ignite a major conflict on the European continent whether it was physical, economic, political, or all of the above. Besides the crisis that it had created within the Soer government, it was creating one in the Layartebian government as well; more so, since the press were now reporting that Elizabeth Windsor had been living in hiding in the Empire with the protection of the government. That meant her sudden return to the island of Great Britain could be seen as an attempt by the Empire to interfere with the politics of the British Empire, something that couldn't be further from the truth. To make matters worse, now that her ancestry had been confirmed, the Soer government had allowed her to live in Windsor Castle, which only added legitimacy to her claim to the throne. They were in a pickle; and in many ways, the Empire was to blame.

Scheduled to give a press conference at 11:30, the Emperor had gathered the National Security Council for their daily briefing and put the British turmoil at the top of the agenda. Minister Fisher of Foreign Affairs took the lead when the briefing officially opened at 09:00. "We now have a full, international crisis on our hands," he began, "we knew that the Cottish would use the opportunity to drive a wedge into Soer's government but we did not realize how effective it would be. Now the Soviets have thrown their two cents into the mix with their own pledge and criticism of the Cottish communiqué. We have thus far issued no official, international statement on the matter though we have been in contact via Ambassador James Meyer in London and Ambassador Archard Lebel here in Layarteb City that we are not supportive of this."

"Good," said the Emperor, "it must be abundantly known to Soer and his government that the Empire does not stand by these events. We provided Elizabeth Windsor with safety during a time when her life was in danger just as we did to King Sverre. It was a policy of my predecessor and despite the fact that I was not aware does not change our stance. We will continue to provide safety to the officials of our allies and even certain enemies in times of extreme crisis. The fact of the matter presently is how we can approach the recent events. What do we know about the assassination attempt?"

"Sir, MI5 and MI6 believe that the assassin was a covert operative from the Goodrule days who had been inactive since the collapse of the government in 2010. Windsor's return to the public spotlight perhaps activated a dormant operation to eliminate her. The Windsor's were all assassinated by Goodrule agents and soldiers during the takeover in 1999. She is the only, living survivor of the bloodline," Minister Flores of Intelligence answered.

"Don't you find that convenient Carmen?"

"Yes sir I do but we're not seeing any indication, yet, that this was a false flag operation intended to draw public support," Minister Flores answered the Emperor, "had we not had a confirmation from our liaisons we would suspect otherwise."

"Very well then that is a nonissue right now. I will condemn the attempt to assassinate her but I'm not going beyond that, satisfactory?"

"It is sir," answered Minister Fisher.

"Now that these Goodrule vermin have revealed that they remain in existence we need to address possible contingency plans for what could happen if the Goodrule network remains capable of affecting political change."

"Well sir we have a plan for that," Chairman-General Barnes offered, "but we do not believe that there is a shadow organization of Goodrule personnel just waiting in the folds. We've put a lot behind unraveling OLEG and we might have only unraveled a quarter of it but we have established that Goodrule persons who are on the most wanted list are not involved in a massive, shadow government. Many are in hiding throughout the world and intending to keep a low profile. Whatever contingency was activated by her return to public eye may not have been the work of OLEG but rather one man's vendetta or what not.

"However sir, should we be wrong in our assessment we will move as follows. First and foremost, we will coordinate with the Soer government for the implementation of a blockade around the island of Great Britain. We will ensure that the Cottish are on board; we believe they will be because whatever feelings they may have for Soer, they are not willing to see a return of the Goodrule state to the island of Great Britain. Secondly, we will insert special forces onto the island with three objectives. The first objective is the most important, the security of British nuclear weapons, the second is to provide intelligence-gathering apparatus for Goodrule-held targets, and the third is the execution of military action against those Goodrule-held targets. By and large, the return of the Goodrule state has no support throughout the populace but we do believe that there are pockets of sympathizers as there always are, no matter how repressive the regime sir."

"What are the odds that we're likely to see this?"

"Over a million to one sir," Minister Sanders of Defense answered, "it's not a likely scenario sir."

"Coordinate on it anyway just in case. We could see a modified requirement for action depending on how this election will go. What are our predictions?"

"It's not good sir," answered Robert Crawford, the NSA. "The Dutch are annoyed with King Alexander over his insistence of turning the Kingdom of Holland into the 'British Empire.' The French and the Germans are angry about what they perceive is a threat to their own heritage and identity. Naturally, the British citizens are excited about these turn of events. The fracturing of the short-lived British Empire is entirely within grasp. We suspect that England and Wales will secede; we highly suspect that Germany will secede, we are on the fence with the rest of the territories, France included. An independent Germany could be a friend to us just as well as they have in the past but they could also see our support for Soer as a point of contention. There is no victory to be had here sir, only loss."

"That is absolutely shameful," said the Emperor, "if we run into a major crisis on the mainland and if Soer and King Alexander refuse to accept the results we could be looking at a civil war."

"Sir that would be catastrophic, we could guarantee Cottish intervention to protect Scotland and see to it that Soer and his government were weakened. We could see Soviet intervention just for the sake of spreading their 'revolution' to the 'West' as it were. To placate the violence sir we would have to commitment over half a million men," Chairman-General Barnes responded, "the resources required to sustain such fighting would seriously weaken us in other theaters. We would have to maintain a strong posture in the Pacific to ward of Hi No Moton or Chinese attempts to seize upon the opportunity but we would need to weaken ourselves in the CENTCOM and AFRICOM regions as well as SOUTHCOM."

"Well then let's hope we don't have a civil war to contend with here," the Emperor said, "where does Lacoze stand on this?"

"Silent as the grave sir," Minister Fisher responded, "they appear to be taking a more tactful approach and waiting to see how it pans out in the end. They have no love for Soer or his government so it is likely they would stand with the Cottish."

"What about Rome?"

"Sir they're silent as well and may very well be but I have to think if this goes to 'task' than they will not suffer any imperialism in their sphere of influence, not after this reunification has allowed them to vanquish Achaea."

"Then we're sitting on a powder keg, a massive powder keg," the Emperor said, "nothing about this makes me comfortable nor should it any of you."

"No sir," came the collective reply. As the meeting continued onward, contingency plans were worked out as well as the subject matter of the Emperor's briefing to the press, which would be shown around the world. A continued approach to the Soer government was defined as well.

¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ | ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤

May 31, 2017 - 11:25 hrs [UTC-5]
Layarteb City, New York
Fortress of Comhghall
(40° 41' 28" N, 74° 0' 58" W)

As the Emperor entered the pressroom, the entirety of those present stood as was customary for protocol. The Emperor took his place behind the podium and gestured for everyone to be seated. Protocol dictated that no one speak during this time as the Emperor would address the crowd of journalists on the format of the briefing. The room was a packed house with all fifty seats taken up by the fifty journalists present. There were no outside cameramen as video was provided by the technicians responsible for maintaining the broadcast. Journalists were allowed to bring tape recorders however and virtually all of them had those out and on their laps. The acoustics in the room was good enough that any recorder could pick up the Emperor's words as clear as if he were standing beside it.

Those fifty journalists were all allowed to be there on the contingency that they continued to follow the protocol established. This meant no one spoke out of turn and there was no gaggle of "Mister Emperor" or "Sir" when he paused to take questions. Journalists raised their hands in silence and the Emperor called on them accordingly. No one addressing the Emperor was allowed to sit during his or her question and the Emperor's response and proper attire was required. For men, this meant a business suit or a military uniform and for women this meant a skirt with a blouse or a dress, stockings or pantyhose, high-heels or boots, and a limited amount of both jewelry and makeup. Posture was essential and slouching was heavily discouraged and those caught doing so were addressed after the fact and "put on warning" to not do it again. Decorum was so paramount that plenty of journalists lost their permission to be there because of their actions.

"Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for coming this morning," the Emperor said in address to the room. They had five minutes to the broadcast and that was plenty of time for him to address them. "I will be giving a planned speech concerning the events in Britain with the reappearance of Elizabeth Windsor. I will address her presence in the Empire and I will provide additional details that have not been made public at this time because they are no longer a matter of national security. I will not be fielding any questions," which brought a collective - though silent - sigh to the journalists who would dare not raise their hand following the Emperor's speech. "I do not expect that this speech will take more than ten minutes but it will convey the stance of this government to the events." The Emperor had a slow way of speaking when he addressed crowds. Like his predecessor, he averaged only one hundred and ten words per minute, which was below the average normally used. The Emperor spoke such a way that his words were clearly understood and those listening had plenty of time to digest what he said, rather than rush.

From there, the final checks were conducted ahead of time and at 11:30 on the dot, many television networks around the Empire cut into their regular programming to air the Emperor's speech. "Good morning and good afternoon," the Emperor began, "I am coming before you today to speak to the current events in the British Empire and the Empire's stance on these matters.

"To first address concerns in the media, yes it is true that Elizabeth Windsor has been living in the Empire for some time now. She was brought to the Empire as a child escaping certain death at the hands of the villainous, Goodrule government, which had successfully purged all aspects of the British government. The Empire will always provide asylum to officials and leaders of our allies and certain non-allies. This was the policy of my predecessor and it shall continue throughout my tenure in this office. The Empire has done so with Elizabeth Windsor and we have done so with King Sverre, who was ushered to the confines of the Empire to escape the ravages of the Cottish Flu Pandemic so many years ago. The Empire will shelter and protect asylum seekers from those individuals in the world who seek their harm or death and we shall do so unequivocally and without apology.

"However, providing asylum to those who require it does not define a policy of foreign intervention. As such, while the Empire can attest to the ancestry of Elizabeth Windsor we are not condoning the current events by her return to the island of Great Britain. The Empire stands behind the government of Prime Minister Soer and the elected representatives of the British Empire. We are not involved with any plan or plot to fracture the country or see to its internal struggle. It is the desire of the Empire to see no violence come of these events, whether internal or external to the British Empire and it is our strong desire that these events not be interfered with from without, lest that lead to violent conflict.

"The Empire has been an ally to the government in The Hague and in London following the dissolution of the Empire of Banjamos, a nation that the Empire did not support. Despite our lack of support for the Banjamosi government, we did not interfere with the establishment of the British Empire under Soer's government nor will we interfere with what is happening at present though we shall note those nations of the world that see fit to interfere.

"In a world where nations rise and fall in a matter of months, the Empire believes that stability is imperative to the European continent. Instability is the root of violence and the people of the European continent have suffered enough at the hands of prior regimes and the ravages of the Cottish Flu Pandemic. I would implore all those within the lands of the British Empire to think not just on the lines of heritage but rather on the lines of unity. The Soer government has not adopted a policy of nullifying the heritage or culture of any ethnic group within its confines nor do we believe it would it attempt such a thing. Rather, Prime Minister Soer and his government see unity as strength; and, in a world as uncertain as ours is strength through unity is paramount.

"Plans to the contrary are reckless and could endanger vast swaths of the populace. This may not be easily seen from within but from without, this is plain and clear. Our two nations have been supportive of and cooperative with one another throughout history. The Empire provided unrestrained support to Dutch soldiers at Bagram and in Pakistan and it was the Empire that cooperated with the British government on the successful raid against Mullah Shahir Alhasan Najjar of Al-Shams in the Chitral region of Pakistan last year. Together our nations have forged a bond for the future that has done only good.

"In the spirit of that bond and cooperation, the Empire offers the full cooperation of the Ministry of Justice in response to the attempted assassination of Elizabeth Windsor. We strongly condemn this attempt at her life and reject any calls to violence against her or the government of Prime Minister Soer. This attempt was a callous act to affect political change at a time when stability and peace must not be contested. No individual responsible for this act will find quarter within the boundaries of the Empire and if our support is required, no individual will find quarter anywhere in the world for this act. Justice will be served.

"It is our sincerest hope that the people on Great Britain do not see this as an attempt to delegitimize their desires for independence but rather see it as an example why unification is so important. There are real and capable threats in this world aimed at unseating the strength and the unity of the British Empire. Only as one whole unit, can you not only defend yourselves but also provide the appropriate response to ensure a permanent and not a temporary, patchwork solution to these threats.

Thank you very much for your time." The Emperor said in closing, speaking for just eight and a half minutes. The journalists in the room stood as per protocol and the Emperor departed the room. The feeds were cut shortly thereafter and networks resumed their regular programming while news stations began to unravel and analyze what the Emperor said, many trying to find hidden messages between the lines while others took what he said at face value and did not attempt to insert their own political bias or commentary into his words.

[The Reborn British Empire]

Colonel Joseph Chandler
Defence Ministry, Kiev
Friday 2nd June 2017, 1200hrs Local Time

Colonel Joseph Chandler, late of the Grenadier Guards, settled his peaked cap onto his head before striding up the steps of the Soviet Defence Ministry in Kiev. He showed his British Military ID to the appropriate people and informed them he was expected. Colonel Chandler was stationed in Kiet as the Military Attache at the British Embassy in Kiev, however he was not here at the bequest of the Soer Government in London. Indeed some would say that what he was doing right now was rather treasonous, however Colonel Chandler begged to differ. He had requested this meeting at the request of Sir William Churchill, formerly General Sir William Churchill, to whom he had served as Chief of Staff in the years immediately after the Goodrule Terror, and Her Royal Highness the Princess Elizabeth. In the last few days two things had become increasingly clear; the first was that Elizabeth was very likely to end up sitting on the British Throne, the second was that between the Cottish Occupation of Scotland and what seemed like a concerted effort on the part of the Empire of Layarteb to make an enemy of them, any British Government that would follow would find itself opposed to the October Alliance.

It was unfortunate, but when the Emperor of Layarteb himself seemed to fundamentally misunderstand, or diminish, the depth of feeling amongst the British population to what they had suffered under the Goodrule, and what the Dutch King was now trying to do to them, it was perhaps unavoidable.

Of course the simple fact of the matter was that the United Kingdom, nor any Empire it might build, could not oppose the entire October Alliance on their own. If they were going to survive in as dangerous a world as the one they lived in they were going to have to do it with allies. The only other major nation to stand in opposition to the October Alliance was the Soviet Union. From what Sir William had said to Chandler, both he and Elizabeth were somewhat wary of committing so firmly to one side or another in the feud between the two, but unless things changed dramatically they would have no choice. The only thing that Chandler could imagine changing the state of affairs was for the Cottish to return Scotland to it’s rightful owners, and for the Layartebians to offer their full and unconditional support for Elizabeth’s Government, both of which seemed rather unlikely. Ultimately however both October Alliance powers would have to sleep in the beds they made, and if that meant an increasing bloc standing against them, then that was what would happen.

Marshal Andrey Dvornikov sat in his office perusing the latest reports from the Soviet military intelligence agency known as the GRU, regarding the potential effect that instability in the British Empire could have on Soviet strategic policy. In his position as Defense Minister of the USSR Dvornikov had requested that the British Empire provide his ministry with regular updates and briefings on the Empire’s internal situation just in case Soviet military attaches and similar personnel could find themselves in potential danger; there was of course the small matter of the British Empire being the USSR’s primary ally in Europe, and Dvornikov wanted as much advance warning as possible with regards to any British military activity which may end up being required as a result of the growing nationalistic sentiments in what the Soviets were internally describing as the ‘British Heartland’, or in other words the British Isles. The current situation in the British Empire was all too reminiscent of the problems which the Soviet Union had experienced in the early 1990s, and Dvornikov privately cursed the incumbent British government for allowing things to get to this point, as in his opinion they could have easily learned lessons from the Soviets if they had bothered to ask.

A knock at the door of his well-appointed office caused the Defense Minister to look up from his work.

“Come in!”

The door opened to reveal a young officer, who saluted before speaking.

“Comrade Marshal, there is a British officer here to see you. Colonel Joseph Chandler.”

Dvornikov sat back in his chair. “Ah, of course. Time for the daily update briefing. Send him in.”

Colonel Chandler entered the room as soon as the Soviet officer stepped aside to allow him to do so. He was dressed in the No.2 Service Dress, originally issued as a field uniform, it was the standard formal dress of the British Army, when No.1 Ceremonial, or Full Dress, uniforms were not required. Consisting of a khaki jacket, skirt (with tie) and trousers, with a few minor variations as a result of his former Regiment, the uniform was almost as distinctive in the modern British Army as the world-famous redcoats. As he stopped before the Soviet Marshal’s desk he stood to attention and rendered a parade-perfect salute; he might be a moderately high ranking officer in his own right, and from a different nation, but it was tradition and good professional courtesy to extend military respect to officers of other militaries, regardless of relations with them, and given that the Soviets were already friendly with the ‘British’ Empire, anything else would have simply been considered rude.

“Good Morning, Marshal,” Colonel Chandler said simply. “Thank You for seeing me.”

Marshal Dvornikov stood and returned the salute, the numerous medals and awards displayed on his chest jingling slightly as he did so. “Good morning to you, Colonel. It is always a pleasure to receive an officer from our allies, although obviously I wish it were under better circumstances.”

He gestured towards the seat across the desk from his own. “Please sit down. Would you like tea, coffee, something else?”

Colonel Chandler settled into his seat, his own medals were in their ribbon form and a somewhat more modest array, but that was the British preference rather than a chestful of medals that other military’s adopted it. A knowledgeable individual would, however, be able to recognize that, in addition to the Resistance Campaign Medal, but also not only the Distinguished Service Order (DSO) but the Military Cross (MC) as well; serving as a combat leader in the resistance tended to account for most serving officers (and NCOs) medals in the current British Military.

“I would be negligent in my duty to my people if I did not ask for a tea, Sir,” Chandler commented with a slight smile. “I’ll take Earl Grey if you have it, no milk, just a dash of lemon.”

Chandler settled his peaked cap on top of his briefcase on the floor beside his chair and looked up at the Marshal.

“I must confess, Marshal, I have been slightly less than honest with my intentions this morning; I saw no reason to dissuade your subordinates of the assumption that my agenda for today would be different,” Chandler commented wryly. “As I’m sure the GRU was able to tell you when I was first posted here, I served under Sir William Churchill during the Goodrule Terror… and I got an interesting call last night.

“I therefore must inform you that today I am here at the bequest of Her Royal Highness Princess Elizabeth of Wales, and not the Soer Government in London,” Chandler explained quickly. “If you wish me to leave in order to I will do so, and if asked I will state that our meeting was routine, however Her Royal Highness would most appreciate you speaking to me as her envoy.”

Dvornikov nodded slightly before rising from his chair and making his way to the beverage-making facilities which he had stationed on a dark oaken cabinet a few feet from his desk. After brewing some tea for Colonel Chandler, Dvornikov brought it over and set it down on the desk in front of the British officer, then returned to his own seat.

“The Red Army has always regarded the British Resistance during the Goodrule Terror to have been a perfect example of the sort of mass popular combat which has been seen as an element of Communist doctrine over the years. Obviously once the people take possession of their nation then it is sensible to revert to a more conventional form of military, but revolutions need their resistance movements and guerilla forces. Sir William has always been looked upon with great respect for his leadership and war record during the Terror, and if you are here at his behest then I have no problem listening to what you have to say.”

Dvornikov leaned forward and rested his clasped hands on the desk before him.

“It is my personal opinion that Princess Elizabeth is acting as a representative of her people, almost as a revolutionary leader, if you will. While we have not openly stated so, her actions have earned her some degree of respect from members of the Soviet government.”

Chandler nodded as he sipped his tea.

“That is comforting to know; the Dutch Occupation, and I call it that deliberately, is as unwanted as it is legally dubious; an Empire can only truly be stable and secure if a majority of the people either actively support it or are prepared to passively accept it,” Chandler commented. “The British Empire was always more successful in territories where we have actively engaged the native population, or otherwise enhanced their existence to encourage them to accept our rule; in the case of the Dutch they have done neither for us.

“Truthfully I do not know what possessed the Dutch King and His Government to believe that the British, or indeed the French or the Germans for that matter, would be particularly inclined to take part in this dream of European Unification that the Layartebian Emperor speaks so fondly of,” Chandler commented, his personal opinion but one shared by Sir William and Elizabeth. “I do not think that the British, or indeed Europeans in general, are suited for foreign subjugation; it is not for no reason that we, the French, the Germans, the Dutch, the Spanish, the Italians, and indeed even the Russians, all historically had Empires; we are not ruled.

“In any event, that is largely academic at this point; I know that Sir William is hopeful that the Soer Government will see reason; they’ll want to retain power and the best way they can do that is, ironically, to concede to our demands and return to Holland,” Chandler added. “We do not anticipate having to use military force to attain our due national sovereignty, although we do have contingency plans in place, however SIr William and Her Royal Highness want me to discuss how the Soviet Union would view the United Kingdom once the Princess is Queen.”

Dvornikov gave a “hmm” and sat back in his chair, folding his arms as he did so.

“This is something which we’ve already been discussing at the highest level of the Soviet government...and by that I mean Premier Zharkov, naturally. Should Princess Elizabeth be successful and the United Kingdom establishes itself as an independent nation once again, the Soviet Union would consider the United Kingdom to be a successor state of the current British Empire. In other words, we would seek to retain the same sort of relationship with the United Kingdom as we currently enjoy with the Soer government. The Soviet Union would view the United Kingdom as a potential partner in Europe. Premier Zharkov has spoken in the past about his desire to see greater cooperation between European nations and the USSR, and the United Kingdom would of course be a European nation. The Soviet Union would look to enjoy strong diplomatic ties with the United Kingdom, we would particularly look to a potential military alliance such as the one we currently enjoy with the British Empire. We are fully aware of the fact that the Cottish and the Layartebians seem hell-bent on meddling in the current British ‘situation’ and they would undoubtedly aim to continue meddling in the affairs of an independent United Kingdom. After all, a resurgent United Kingdom would be a potential threat in their eyes.

“From what Premier Zharkov has talked to me about, he would also seek to retain economic links with the United Kingdom along the lines of those we currently have with the Soer government. Simply put, while the Cottish and the Layartebians probably view the United Kingdom as a potential missile base from which to strike at us, the Soviet Union see the United Kingdom as a strong potential partner. We would have absolutely no problem acting as impartial intermediaries to maintain peace between yourselves and the...well, shall we refer to them as the ‘Dutch Empire’ in this scenario. The Soviet Union would also have no issues with the idea of supporting the United Kingdom if the Cottish or the Layartebians were foolish enough to attempt some form of military action against you, as the last thing that we wish to see is the October Alliance increasing their hold over European territory at the expense of others.”

“You are absolutely correct with respects to the meddling by the October Alliance in our affairs, whilst the Cottish announcements may have had a positive effect in some ways it is nevertheless something they should not be doing, and highlights their obvious willingness to do so, something we not wish to encourage,” Chandler commented. “Moreover the political situation vis-a-vis the United Kingdom and the Cottish or Layartebians is unfortunate to say the least; the Cottish of course hold Scotland, which puts us at odds with them immediately, and the Layartebian response to this matter is disappointing, especially after the promises once made, and if Princess Elizabeth has one flaw, Sir William says it is her ability to hold a grudge.

“As such it seems highly likely that the United Kingdom will find itself in hostile, or at least unfriendly, relations with two of the October Alliance powers unless the situation changes dramatically in ways I do not anticipate, it is perhaps ironic that they are proceeding in a manner that is only like to exacerbate the likelihood of our posing a threat to them,” Chandler added. “However, what is important is ensuring that we make adequate safeguards for our future security; and that means engaging with those who would oppose the October Alliance hegemony, and indeed we, as the proud British, would rather work with a partner, such as yourselves, rather than as merely a tool in the games of a larger power, so I am sure that the Princess and Sir William will be open for all that you have suggested.”

Dvornikov allowed himself a smile at Chandler’s response.

“I have a strange feeling that Premier Zharkov and Princess Elizabeth would get along rather well, our Premier is also the type who is particularly skilled at holding a grudge when he puts his mind to it. More positively though, they are evidently both individuals who hold the welfare and survival of their nation close to heart and are willing to do whatever it takes to ensure the wellbeing of their people, even if that means working with those who may hold a differing political ideology. The October Alliance would do well to learn from their example.

“Just to make something clear though, the Soviet Union is planning to continue refraining from making any public comments on the election process within the British Empire. That way we cannot be accused of interfering in the internal matters of one of our allies and we can continue to hold the moral high ground over the October Alliance. In the unfortunate and quite possible event of other regions following the United Kingdom’s example and declaring their independence from the Soer government, the Soviet Union would prefer to be keep our options open. It is a delicate balancing act best left to the Ministry of Foreign Affairs to handle, I prefer to handle matters which do not require diplomatic tightrope walking.”

“Indeed, reasonable men and women can disagree on matters of politics, sociology and even the economy without necessarily having to be opposed to each other; we do what good friends do and stay out of each other’s affairs unless asked to assist,” Chandler commented with a nod. “In the kind of world we all live in today we simply cannot allow such things to get in the way with the national interest; the your system works for the USSR, a Constitutional Monarchy works for the British, beyond that we do what is best by ourselves and each other.”

“Through stubbornness, ambition and ideological blindness the Cottish and the Layartebians have maneuvered themselves into a position where Britain will stand against them; it is for that reason that I was ordered here today, not to request your help in gaining our independence, but for what happens after,” Chandler added. “From what you have said today Sir William and The Princess will be comforted to know that we are on the same page, so to speak, so any diplomatic tightrope walking your government has to do is understandable and not a problem, I like you prefer the less delicate matters myself.”

Dvornikov gave an approving nod in response to Chandler’s statement.

“Yes, give me forces to deploy or objectives to capture and I am a very happy man. I shall inform Premier Zharkov of our meeting and the matters discussed, in fact I can do so later this afternoon. I think that it is safe to say that the KGB will probably end up keeping a closer eye on Princess Elizabeth from now on, although I wouldn’t be surprised if they already have been doing so; not for any sinister motives, but rather just to monitor a potential future ally of the Soviet Union. Knowing Premier Zharkov as I do, while the USSR will keep to our diplomatic tightrope he would see no problem with ordering KGB personnel to act in such a way that it might ‘inadvertently’ assist your cause. I have no idea how he would do that, but then the Premier has more cunning in his little finger than a skulk of foxes. Just something to keep in mind.”

“I’m sure; I worked alongside Military Intelligence in my youth who talked highly of the KGB, and I know the amount of professional respect that MI6 and MI5 hold the KGB in, so I’m sure that the Premier, what with his background and all, will have a few ideas,” Chandler smiled. “As I said, truth be told we do not expect any problems going forwards, from my last report Special Branch is making good progress with hunting down the Goodrule cells we believe to be responsible for the attack, and given the odds stacking against the Dutch…”

“Glad to hear it. Obviously I’m not sure if Special Branch have approached the KGB for any information they may have on Goodrule remnants, but it would certainly be worth a try. If your good fortune holds out then I imagine that we shall hear of an official declaration of independence in the not-too-distant future, and we will undoubtedly already have an ambassador chosen to represent us in the United Kingdom.”

“That is the hope, Marshal, that is the hope,” Chandler replied with a nod. “I must relay our conversation to Sir William and the Princess, thank you for seeing me today, I’ll get back in touch if anything changes.”

[The Reborn British Empire]

Police Sergeant Nicholas Coleman
Docklands, London
Thursday 6th June 2017, 2200hrs Local Time

It was, despite the time of year, and rather predictably, raining as Sergeant Nicholas Coleman of the Metropolitan Police Service led his team through the alleyways and back streets in and around their target building. They were deep in London’s Docklands, steadily being redeveloped but there were still large areas of warehouses, some of which were occupied, others were not; their target building was one of the former. Intelligence had come down from Special Branch that targets of interest in relation to the assassination attempt on Princess Elizabeth were located in one such warehouse, operating under a complex cover business. It made a lot of sense in many ways, it allowed the targets to have a means by which to bring in people and equipment into the country, as well as allowing them to make use of a large, out of the way, building like a warehouse without attracting attention. As such the intelligence had been deemed highly reputable and after one of the Met’s helicopters had conducted a distant observation of the target warehouse and its yard had shown a large amount of activity the decision had been made to send an team in; this was an outstanding chance to shut down one of the three believed Goodrule cells.

There had been some talk of calling for military support and sending in the Special Air Service (SAS), the elite world-leading special operations force of the British Army, however the Met Commissioner himself had insisted that they would handle it themselves. Fortunately the Metropolitan Police, like all other British police services but on a large scale, maintained a pool of teams within the Specialist Firearms Command (more famously known as SO19) that were trained specifically to respond to terrorism-related incidents. These Counter-Terrorist Specialist Firearms Officers (CTSFOs) consisted of one sergeant and fifteen constables all trained to the highest standards by the UK Special Forces; if there were any units within the Metropolitan Police capable of the counting thread it was the CT-SFO Teams.

Special Branch had taken great pains to emphasise to PS Coleman and his superiors of the need for the element of surprise; if they gave the suspects too much advance warning there was every possibility that they could destroy vital evidence and intelligence that could, potentially, lead to the other cells. As such the decision had been made to insert PS Coleman’s team, CTSFO-04, some distance from the warehouse and have them move in on foot. Uniformed units would follow behind them and put a broader perimeter into place whilst officers from Special Branch, who were armed, would follow the CTSFO-04 officers in to secure the area. By all accounts there were a large number of suspects within the Warehouse and Yard, as many as thirty or forty, however Coleman was confident that his highly-trained team could handle themselves well enough. This was after all everything they did; they did not conduct routine policing duties, although all had served time in Armed Response Vehicles (ARVs) and as unarmed patrol officers before that, but whenever the CTSFO was not conducting an operation it was training in some form or another.

PS Coleman’s lead element reached the final alleyway before they would come into sight of the Warehouse, at which point their approach would be spotted sooner rather than later, and took a knee. One officer moved right up to the corner and targeted his weapon, a SIG MCX Carbine down the street, as the other officers gathered around their team leader in a defensive formation. Before giving his final brief Coleman moved up to the corner and visually confirmed the building; there were no guards outside, this was London after all and even this out of the way in the Docklands armed guards outside the compound would attract attention, however there was a large row of windows on the first floor on the side that faced the road and it would be foolish to assume that there was no one on lookout duty. All available intelligence suggested that the Goodrule Cells were well-trained and well-equipped; they had only failed in their assassination attempt was that they had not known that the Princess would be protected by NEIC Security personnel. This meant that once they committed to the assault they would have to move with speed and ferocity in order to overwhelm their foe before they knew what was hitting them.

Coleman turned back to his team.

“We’re going to keep this one simple; it’s a fifty feet from here to the target building, we’re going to advance in two bounds, plant our breaching charge on that gate and breach that way,” Coleman said simply. “Once we’re clear by elements, make arrests if you can, but DO NOT take unnecessary risks, but do try to preserve evidence as much as possible.”

Coleman glanced around at his team who nodded before thumbing the push-to-talk on his radio.

“Sierra Oscar One Nine, this is Trojan Six, in position at target building,” Coleman said simply, speaking to the Tactical Operations Centre at Specialist Firearms Command HQ. “Request Silver Authorisation to commence assault.”

“Trojan Six, this is Sierra Oscar One Nine, silver authorisation is granted, good luck.”

With that Coleman nodded to his team and two of the other elements moved down the road either way parallel to the target building and found alleyways that would allow them to assault the target from three avenues of advance which would, if nothing else, hopefully make the suspects question just how many people were coming at them. He waited until he received confirmation that they were all in place before thumbing his radio again.

“All units, this is Trojan Six… go…go…go!”

With no further orders required the four elements began to move quickly towards their target; two officers providing overwatch as the other two in each element bounded forward then repeating the tactic to allow the entire team to stack-up on either side of the main gate where a breaching charge was quickly placed. All sixteen officers then donned their thermal-vision optics and officers moved forwards with smoke grenades and lobbed them over the wall into the yard and the entire team waited a few moments for the smoke to properly disperse before Coleman gave the nod and the breaching charge was detonated. Scattered fire was targeted through the now breached gate but it was ineffective due to the smoke and after another second the team began to breach the compound, using their thermal optics to give them a distinct advantage and shots rang out in disciplined bursts as the team made its entry and pushed forwards quickly, knowing that the worst thing they could do was get bogged down. They made good, quick progress through the yard where they were most exposed to fire from the building and were soon stacking up on several different doors leading into the building.

This was where it got more difficult and far more dangerous. They would have to go room-by-room and clear the building, never knowing what was behind the next door save for what their equipment would allow them to see under each door. It would be a dangerous slog, even with the advantage of flashbang grenades and specialist training, and the Goodrule terrorists had to know how best to take advantage of their situation to kill as many police officers as possible before going down themselves. Moreover, they could not afford to wait too long; every second they took meant the chance of critical evidence being destroyed went higher and higher. It was the classic hostage situation conundrum; the desire to proceed slowly and carefully against the simple fact that they needed to move quickly to save as many lives as possible; mercifully there were no hostages in this case.

So the men and women of Trojan Six slogged their way through the warehouse building, going room to room and clearing each one carefully but as quickly possible. Fortunately the enemy had not had any time to set up booby traps but they had every advantage on their own turf and the special tactics employed by Trojan Six could only go so far. It was as one of the elements was clearing a series of offices on the upper floor that everything that Coleman had been trying to avoid happened; a suspect managed to keep his wits and senses about him despite a flashbang grenade and was able to gun down the first SO19 Officer through the door, he was quickly cut to pieces by the three officers behind the fallen officer, but the damage had been done; two shotgun blasts at close range had inflicted grievous wounds to areas not covered by body armour.

Of course the first that Coleman knew about it, clearing another set of offices with his own element, was when the chilling message was relayed over the radio.

“Officer Down! Officer Down!”

Coleman was momentarily stunned but the intensive training took over and he thumbed his radio.

“Sierra Oscar One Nine, this is Trojan Six; Officer Down, I say again, Officer Down,” Coleman reported, sounding more calm than he really felt. “Have the medics on standby, we’re almost secure here.”

It took another few minutes for all of the Trojan Six elements to report that the building was secure and Coleman called in Special Branch and the other units to process the scene. Effectively his job here was done, Trojan Six would stand down and leave the security of the site to regular armed police. As sirens and flashing lights filled the air Coleman flicked the safety on his weapon and made his way to where the bulk of Trojan Six was gathering around their wounded colleague as the first paramedics arrived on the scenes escorted by firearms officers from an Armed Response Vehicle (ARV). It only took a few minutes for it to become obvious that the officer in question was not going to make it; the blood loss was simply too severe and given the fact that the site had not been secured the medics had not been able to reach him in time to change that fact. It was a devastating loss, but it was also a risk that each and every officer accepted when they signed up, not only to the Specialist Firearms Command but to the police service in general.

Of course none of that would make Coleman feel particularly better when he had to inform the killed officer’s widow of his death.

Coleman was on his way out of the building, Special Branch detectives and uniformed officers were swarming onto the site, when one of his officers came running over with a large rolled document in his hand. Coleman took one look at the document before quickly finding Detective Superintendent Fitzgerald.

“Excuse me Guv, but I think you need to see this,” Coleman said simply, handing him the document. “I don’t know about you, but I can’t think of any good reason why terrorists would have recon photos of Battleship Quay at Pompey…”

Lieutenant Commander Susan Reynolds RN
HMS Rodney, HM Naval Base Portsmouth
Friday 7th June 2017, 0200hrs Local Time

Lieutenant Commander Susan Reynolds stood on the bridge wing of the Battleship Rodney as she sat tied up alongside Battleship Quay, the specific berth within HM Naval Base Portsmouth (known by many as Pompey) reserved for Battleships, and looked out over the upper decks, watching the increased security patrols carefully. Lieutenant Reynolds was Rodney’s Navigator, but in this case she was acting in the role of Officer of the Day (OOD), having taken over the duty the previous evening. She had been in a light sleep in her cabin when she had been roused, as per the standing orders, in order to respond to a security concern. Pulling on her uniform jacket, as Officer of the Day she was required to wear No.1 uniform throughout, she had made her way through the ship to the gangway where the security detail there was holding a man who promptly identified himself as part of MI5, the Security Service. He had promptly informed her of credible intelligence suggesting an attack against ship’s tied up alongside Battleship Quay and she had immediately increased the ship’s security condition, stepped up upper deck patrols and sent work to the Commanding Officer wo was ashore visiting his wife.

She had spoken with Captain Taylor and he was satisfied with her preparations, although he was making his way back to the ship as quickly as possible. Fortunately, the Rodney was on the ‘High Readiness’ phase of her operational cycle, meaning that if she was not underway in home waters she was supposed to able to get underway in a matter of hours, which of course meant that her Captain and crew could only go so far away from the ship, and that there was a significant duty watch aboard. It also meant that the ship had recently successfully passed the Flag Officer Sea Training (FOST) assessment that authorised the ship to begin eighteen months of tasking, nine on high readiness and nine operationally deployed. In the current climate a terrorist attack had been one of the many scenarios at FOST, so they were well trained.

From a propaganda and psychological point of view attacking a British Battleship alongside in Portsmouth made sense; the Royal Navy had always been the pride of Britain, however it was easier said than done for two reasons. The first was the self-defence capabilities of the ship itself, the second was the extensive force protection provided by the Portsmouth Patrol Boat Squadron and the Ministry of Defence Police. At any given time two, usually more, P2000 picket boats were patrolling the harbour, armed with 20mm autocannons, and backed up by police picket boats carrying armed police officers. The security arrangements shore side were just as intensive; general security was handled by sailors assigned to the Military Guard Service (MGS) a tri-service command that handled the physical security of the defence estate, and backed up by a detachment of Royal Marines, as well as the local constabulary.

Although her formidable 16-inch guns were not much use in terms of force protection, Rodney was not without defences of her own. Along each flank she carried four twin 40mm autocannons in automated turrets, controlled from fire control central, and whilst these were relatively small emplacements compared to the secondary batteries of yesteryear they were rapid-fire and high-explosive, more than capable of ripping apart smaller vessels that dared to get too close. In addition to her secondary armament the Rodney’s self-defence suite included CIWS, miniguns and machineguns, and that wasn’t considering the personal weapons of the security teams on the upper decks. It was difficult to conceive that a successful terrorist attack against a warship within a secured dockyard could succeed; most terror threats against ships were against ships alongside in foreign or less secured ports. However intelligence suggested that an attack was imminent and likely, so precautions had to be taken.

Which proved to be of paramount importance mere moments later when Lt. Commander Reynold’s radio came to life.

“Bridge, Starboard lookout,” The voice of one of the ratings Reynold’s had stationed on the upper deck reported urgently, excitement evident despite himself. “Three small civilian vessels approaching within the defence perimeter.”

Reynolds frowned and glanced down at one of the WECDIS (Warship Electronic Chart Display and Information System) consoles getting an appreciation of the tactical situation and immediately saw the problem. The three civilian vessels were approaching from three very different directions, in an obvious attempt to bypass the picket boats. Successfully as it turned out; although two of the vessels were quickly pursued by the two P2000s, a third was clear of any obstruction for a run against Battleship Quay. Reynolds grabbed her radio from the chart table and hurried back out onto the bridge wing, bringing her binoculars up to her eyes. In the distance the two P2000s each opened fire on their quarry; the ships having failed to respond to orders to stop and being within the defensive perimeter they were legitimate targets. This proved to be the right decision as the 20mm autocannons ripped through the unarmoured hulls of the target vessels, and both ships disappeared in larger explosions than would normally be expected; suggesting there was something going on below decks than immediately met the eye.

That was all that Reynolds needed.

“Starboard battery, target vessel bearing red zero eight zero,” Reynolds said crisply. “One burst per gun, engage, engage, engage.”

The night, already disrupted by the lighter 20mm guns and the loud explosions, was not ripped apart again by the far louder, and far more numerous, sound of the four dual 40mm autocannon turrets on the starboard side of the ship opening fire. It was perhaps overkill, but with the amount of explosives clearly aboard these vessels Reynolds was in no particular mood to take any chances. The target vessel was literally ripped apart by the autocannon barrage even before its explosive payload was detonated and the vessel disappeared in a fireball in the middle of Portsmouth Harbour. A quiet descended over the area, save for the sound of klaxons sounding aboard every other warship alongside in the naval base; even if the attack had likely been foiled it was obvious that half the Royal Navy was going to be on high alert for the rest of the night.

“Check, Check, Check; good shooting gun crews,” Reynolds said into her headset with a smile. “Secure all weapons, maintain force protection posture.”

Sir Jonathan Edwards KBE
New Broadcasting House, London
Friday 7th June 2017, 0600hrs Local Time

“Good Morning, this is London… the BBC can now exclusively report that the gunfire and explosions reported in Portsmouth Harbour was indeed an attempted attack against British Warships alongside at Portsmouth Naval Base; an attack I am pleased to confirm was unsuccessful,” Sir Jonathan said, beginning the rolling news coverage of the aftermath of the Portsmouth Attack, having hurried into work despite the hour. “A Ministry of Defence official confirmed that three civilian vessels, commandeered by terrorists, were packed with high explosive and attempted to attack Battleship Quay where Battleships Rodney and Nelson were alongside; the latter in force regeneration and minimally manned.”

Sir Jonathan paused.

“Two of the terrorist vessels were engaged and destroyed by Royal Navy picket boats in the outer harbour and detonated in large explosions indicative of a large cargo of explosives, however a third was able to make use of this diversion to make a run at Battleship Quay,” Sir Jonathan continued, reporting the first real account of the attack. “Fortunately, the Rodney was on high readiness and destroyed the terrorist vessel with fire from her secondary battery of autocannons; the MoD confirmed eyewitness reports which suggested that it was unlikely that any real damage to personnel or equipment had been inflicted.”

Sir Jonathan paused again as an image from a BBC Helicopter showed Battleship Quay and the two large battleships alongside, other ships were visible in the background.

“Although not officially confirmed by the Ministry of Defence, sources have told the BBC that the prompt and effective response of the force protection assets around HMNB Portsmouth was assisted by intelligence gained from a raid by Specialist Firearms Officers from SO19 last night,” Sir Jonathan added. “Although sources suggest that the actors behind the attack are known to the Security Services, their identity is being kept a closely guarded secret for the meantime, however it seems clear that someone has been significantly agitated by the return of Princess Elizabeth to these shores.”

[Layarteb]

June 7, 2017 - 01:00 hrs [UTC-5]
North Castle, New York
84 Byram Ridge Rd
(41° 9' 2" N, 73° 42' 17" W)

North Castle was a quiet town in Upper Westchester, within which the hamlet of Armonk resided. Only a few minutes from the Connecticut border, North Castle was a town for high-profile lawyers who abhorred the hustle and bustle of the city, top-notch doctors, and business executives who wanted high ceilings and large swimming pools. The town itself had a few small ponds or lakes where homes were even more expensive and at 84 Byram Ridge Road sat a 4-bedroom, 2.5-bathroom house which was small for the town, just 2,570 ft² but which contained a sizeable swimming pool and 1.3 acres of property. The value of the house was listed at just over §1 million. Taxes alone were §25,000 per year. It was a cozy home with plenty of space for its occupants, who consisted of Nelson and Leanne Summers. Nelson, at the age of fifty-four, was a lawyer at a prestigious firm in Layarteb City. Leanne worked for the Ministry of Intelligence. To her husband, she was one of the chiefs who received phone calls sometimes in the night and sometimes during the weekends. She told him that she was only section chief in the Intelligence Directorate and nothing more.

He knew better than to ask. They had no kids and no pets and Leanne, four years his junior, felt happily married, even if she and her husband spent less time together than they did at their respective jobs. Such was the life they had agreed upon and such was the life that they had. There was no jealousy or spitefulness in either of them. They were both career-oriented and occasionally held dinner parties to entertain business clients of Nelson or his coworkers. Leanne's coworkers never showed up for dinner and they didn't need to for many obvious reasons. In truth, Leanne headed up a working group that had been formed in 2013. She was promoted to lead it on her twenty-second anniversary of working with the Ministry of Intelligence, having joined in 1991 at the age of twenty-four. She was now fifty. The working group was known formally as the Office of Trade Export for Aquaculture and it fell under the Ministry of Commerce.

OTEA had taken over for a JSOC-led task force known as Task Force Gamma, established on May 25, 2010 for the sole purpose of hunting a list of five hundred officials from the Goodrule Third Spanish States. By the time of the switchover, Task Force Gamma had captured just five of those five hundred and one - Aiden Herbert - had committed suicide within ten minutes of his capture on January 2, 2011. Of the other four, three were low-level individuals and provided no useful intelligence and one was Major James Farnsworth, the number six man on the list. Farnsworth was a high-ranking official within the government's secret police and had played a central role in rounding up sickened individuals during the Cottish Flu Pandemic, shipping them to camps in Scotland where they were slaughtered.

Farnsworth had been captured on February 11, 2012 in the town of Bangor off the French coast on the island of Belle île by a JSOC unit from the 1st Black Operations Group, known to the few who knew of its existence as FORCE FALCON. Farnsworth had provided Task Force Gamma with the first real intelligence on the shadowy organization known as OLEG, the meaning of each letter unknown to Task Force Gamma. Until his capture, Task Force Gamma believed OLEG to be a person providing assistance to former Goodrule officials rather than an organization with considerable funds - stolen from the Goodrule treasury in its collapse - and worldwide reach.

When OTEA was established in 2013, Farnsworth had already provided all of the information that he would. The chase was on and on October 21, 2014, that same JSOC unit captured Colonel Ackley Dench and Alfredo Abarca in Andorra. Dench's bodyguard, Captain Liam Clark, was killed in the operation and Abarca was seriously wounded. Dench was the number one man on the list and he had headed up the Goodrule intelligence services. Abarca was a treasury official believed to be the chief financial officer of OLEG. Fortunately, Abarca recovered but unfortunately, neither Dench nor Abarca had revealed much. What intelligence they had revealed early on turned out to be disinformation, carefully rehearsed between them prior to their capture. Resources and time spent on chasing these leads allowed dozens upon dozens of hiding officials to relocate with enough time that no trace remained of their whereabouts.

Thus far, Dench had revealed little that authorities didn't know and Abarca was particularly tight-lipped. Neither had been given the opportunity to commit suicide, though Dench had tried and Abarca had been touch-and-go for a while after the operation. OTEA was the only working group in the Empire dedicated to locating Goodrule officials. No other units in the world were known to exist solely for this purpose though the New African Republic's International Criminal Court did have a group that attempted to bring these people to justice; albeit, they were woefully ineffective and offered little in the way of value or actionable information.

Leanne, heading up OTEA, knew the enemy she faced was one of the most elusive in the world. Goodrule officials had scattered in the waning days of the joint Cottish-Layartebian invasion and the failure to capture them at this time was a major, military blunder. Despite efforts to attack the isle of Great Britain south of Scotland, no ground troops were committed and thus the officials easily escaped through predetermined ratlines. OTEA believed that most of them were living in Europe and Africa with some in South America and Southeast Asia. They lived quiet lives under new identities. Some likely worked for a living; few were on the grid. To their neighbors they might have been normal people but they all held the dark secrets of the Goodrule Third Spanish States and the awful totalitarianism that they had force upon Britain, Spain, and Portugal.

Leanne had been asleep when her phone rang. It had been an eventful evening with a romp between her and her husband following dinner. Had it been cooler, they would have lit the fireplace in the den, but as it was late spring and going into summer, there was none of that to be had. The central air conditioning hummed, keeping the house at a comfortable 72°F and the slight rattle, white noise really, was familiar to Leanne as she opened her eyes and reached for her vibrating phone. In a groggy voice, she answered, "Hello?"

"Leanne, it's George, you're going to want to turn on the TV, NBH-BBC," said George Meekins, one of her subordinates at OTEA.

Climbing out of bed, Leanne pulled on a robe, and walked out of the bedroom quietly, letting the door shut on her way out as she walked towards the den. Sitting down on the couch, she turned on the TV and kept the phone to her right ear. As the broadcast continued, Leanne was beside herself. "George, we have nothing on this do we?"

"Nothing Leanne, not a damn thing."

"An assassination attempt is one thing, that can be pulled off by one man, this is coordinated and planned. How did this slip under our radar?"

"Leanne you know as well as I do that we never figured any Goodrule fugitives still remained on Great Britain. The risk was too great."

"Well they've had an entire sleeper network, meeting at 08:00."

"You got it Leanne," George said, hanging up the phone from his own den on Long Island where he lived with his wife and teenage daughter, who worried him a lot more than Goodrule agents did.

¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ | ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤

June 7, 2017 - 08:00 hrs [UTC-5]
Layarteb City, New York
747 3rd Ave
(40° 45' 12" N, 73° 58' 19" W)

The building known as "747 3rd Ave" for its address was a thirty-eight floor skyscraper on 3rd Ave between 46th and 47th Street. All told, the building offered over 400,000 ft² of space. It was staffed by armed security 24/7 and it was home to multiple companies, including a sizeable office leased by the Office of Trade Export for Aquaculture. OTEA had thirty-five employees from Commerce, Defense, Finance, Foreign Affairs, Intelligence, and Justice. Leanne Summers was the head of the working group and the five persons from the Ministry of Commerce were responsible for fulfilling the stated mission of OTEA. They exported enough farmed fish to pay for the office's rental and utilities bills as well as provide a salary for all thirty-five of its employees. The rest of the budget for OTEA came from a single line item on a budget bill for black projects.

OTEA was located on the twenty-first floor of the building where it leased 6,251 ft² or two-thirds of the floor. The office was set up with thirty-six workstations, two offices, two conference rooms, and three secure, single-station rooms for private phone calls and private business. The two offices occupied the entire northern and western faces of the floor as well as the southwestern corner. The third office on the floor, which was listed as 3,059 ft² looked only to the south and a little to the east. That office was occupied by a marketing company that employed just twenty persons. The two different groups ran into one another frequently on the elevators or in the bathrooms but no one at the marketing firm suspected anything about OTEA's real mission.

With all hands on deck, Leanne corralled the staff into suite 2101 occupying the workstation area. Left in suite 2102 were only the five employees from the Ministry of Commerce, working on their legitimate cover. Of those five, one served as the receptionist while the other four procured and exported supply with two people working logistics, one person working on supply, and one person working on contracts.

Beginning the meeting, Leanne pointed to the wall-mounted television where a replay of the news was running on a loop without the volume. Analysts would look over any released footage for signs of anything. "All right so we're thrown here," she began, "there is a full-fledged, stay-behind network operating on the island of Britain right now. They have endured the Banjamosi government and they have hid from the Dutch-led, British successor government. They seem adamant about utilizing the chaos thrown by the return of Elizabeth Windsor to attack, first in an attempt to assassinate her and now in an attempt to sink a warship.

"I have combed through our database and we have virtually nothing on any stay-behind networks. At most, we have three card entries. The first talks of potential evidence of a stay-behind network operating in the summer and the autumn of 2010. There were three assassinations of two mayors and a military major, as well as a sabotage operation against a rifle factory, which led to the deaths of nineteen civilians. There were no other attacks. The second card entry is from 2013 and suggests with low probability that OLEG facilitators have an office set up in London. The third card entry is from 2015 that has circumstantial evidence that Colonel Dench had communicated with Goodrule persons left on the island. The details are sparse, to say the least.

"Do we have any information whatsoever beyond this?" No one volunteered anything and after a short pause, Leanne continued. "It is quite obvious that we're dealing with a very active organization. Until now, we have not suspected OLEG to have any actionable units. It was merely a ratline service to help officials escape and avoid capture, prosecution, or death. It has been believed that OLEG is entirely a logistical and support organization but it appears there is a paramilitary arm as well. This is our priority now. Let's go over what we know and look for anything we might have missed alluding to the potential. We've only captured seven people and we've got hours upon hours of interrogation. Farnsworth didn't reveal much but there might be something there. Dench and Abarca sold us disinformation for months and then said nothing more.

"If we can find a string, we might be able to put Justice back in play interrogating those two. Priority people, this is priority!" This ended the meeting and Leanne returned to her office and began to do the same work she'd just ordered her personnel to do. This was an all-hands approach and someone might just be able to find something somewhere that could reveal a string worthy of being pulled.

At the same time, seven hundred and fifty miles north, Colonel Dench, Major James Farnsworth, Alfredo Abarca, and other captured Goodrule members were being roused from their sleep. These men spent twenty-three of twenty-four hours per day in their cell with one hour for exercise, which they did alone. Their rooms were Spartan, to say the least, and they passed the time by reading, writing, sleeping, or thinking. They were housed in Nova Prospekt Prison, located on New Prospects Island, a small, restricted island in the Gulf of Saint Lawrence, where the weather was miserable during winter and only added to the suffering of those unlucky enough to be there. The supermax-level prison was one of several within the Empire that was used to house particularly dangerous or sensitive persons. Nova Prospekt was used for high-value terrorists and prisoners of war. The facility has space for five hundred persons in individual cell units and it was administered by a dedicated staff that lived on the island. Access was restricted and boaters were warned off, sometimes with live ammunition. Aircraft were warned off as well. There was a small airstrip on the island for helicopters and light prop planes and one dock facility. There had never been any successful escapes and though attempts had been made, all ended in failure, sometimes death, for those attempting. It was a miserable place to be and that was done entirely on purpose.

[The Reborn British Empire]

Detective Constable Michael Anderson
Falmouth Police Station, Falmouth
Friday 7th June 2017, 2100hrs Local Time

Detective Constable Michael Anderson, of the Metropolitan Police’s Special Branch, pinched the bridge of his nose as he sat behind the desk he had been given in the small office within Falmouth Police Station. He had sent the handful of uniformed officers from Devon and Cornwall Constabulary that had been assigned to assist him home several hours ago, but could not bring himself to go home himself, not when there were still some leads to follow up. Other Special Branch officers had uncovered intelligence suggesting that the Goodrule Cells were principally based in ports or coastal towns, which made sense in terms of allowing them relatively easy entry points for men and supplies; and as such Special Branch officers had been dispatched all over the south coast to follow up on leads. The largest teams had been in dispatched to the likes of Dover, Plymouth and, of course, Portsmouth; indeed the latter had been instrumental in providing the intelligence which had foiled the attack against Battleship Quay. Various teams had been dispatched of varying sizes depending on the strength of the gathered intelligence suggesting a Goodrule presence; DC Anderson had been dispatched to Falmouth, which was low down on the list of priorities.

In short it was broadly considered a waste of time.

By all accounts DC Anderson really ought to be one of the major teams investigating Plymouth or Dover. He had joined the Metropolitan Police straight out of university, graduating with a First in Policing, having wanted nothing else than to be a police officer. He had done well in uniform, building a quick rapport with his local community and his colleagues, between that, his background and his knack for analysis he had been quickly seconded to CID and eventually head-hunted by Special Branch. On the one hand he had done well, his analytic skills were some of the best in the service and he had good instincts, he wouldn’t have survived in Special Branch without being good at his job, but his biggest strength as a police officer was in his ability to build a rapport with his community. The simple fact of the matter was that as a Special Branch Detective his job was to facilitate the arrest of spies and terrorists; and he simply lacked the mind-set needed for that role; something his fellow detective had disapproved of to say the least. As such whilst he was respected for his analytics, he was not well liked within Special Branch, despite having been a popular uniformed officer once upon a time.

Which was why he was out here in the arse-end of Cornwall going over reports from MI5s intelligence gathering efforts in the area.

Anderson glanced down at his watch and sighed heavily; there was no point in staying any longer; his eyes were getting heavy and the words were starting to blur together if he didn’t concentrate enough and no amount of tea seemed to be enough to keep his attention focused. Logging off his computer he stood and slipped his arms into the sleeves of his suit jacket and gathered his stuff together before heading for the door. As he was making his way through the darkened corridors he stopped as he heard muffled sobbing from within one of the offices. Frowning he stepped towards it and opened the door, the light from the corridor spilling onto a young, female uniformed police officer sitting slumped against the wall, her knees pulled up to her chest. She looked up at Anderson, and whilst she looked somewhat embarrassed she didn’t have the energy to do anything else other than sigh and bury her head in her hands.

“What’s wrong?” DC Anderson asked softly.

“Like you don’t know,” The officer replied. “Everyone around here knows.”

“Take a proper look at me, and you’ll know I’m not from round here,” Anderson said firmly. “I’m DC Michael Anderson from the Met, now tell me your name and why you’re sitting in a dark room crying your eyes out.”

The officer looked up and throw tear-stained eyes examined him properly. She was young, likely she was still within her probationary period, but despite the way she was sitting and hear tears her uniform was immaculately turned out; she clearly took a great deal of pride in her appearance as a police officer.

“I’m PC Katie Kirkman; I’ve just had a new arsehole ripped by my Sergeant; I pretty badly screwed up an undercover drug sting by arresting an undercover DC, apparently, I missed the email notifying the district of the operation,” PC Kirkman replied glumly, looking up at DC Anderson with sad eyes. “It’s not the first time either; I’m really good with the community but apparently I have problems ‘seeing the big picture’… being a Copper is the only thing I’ve ever wanted to do, and it turns out I’m shit at it!”

“If you are good with the community you are in no way a bad copper,” DC Anderson said firmly. “We police by public consent in this country; rapport with the community is vital, everything else comes later.”

“You should tell that to my Sergeant,” PC Kirkman scowled bitterly.

“Uniform tend to get a lock of stick from above when we stumble across an undercover operation because of a lack of communication; they’re just in the wrong as you for only communicating through a cryptic email,” DC Anderson replied bluntly, offering a hand to pull the young PC to her feet, knowing that staying sat on the floor wasn’t going to do her good. “I assume that there was a Detective Sergeant or Detective Inspector in the room as well… I thought so, a decent portion of that show would have been for their benefit, as much as yours.”

“I suppose you may be right, but this isn’t the first time something like this has happened,” PC Kirkman sighed heavily as she climbed to her feet. “I get so caught up in dealing with things on the street that I forget about all the targets, and the ‘big picture’.”

DC Anderson laughed.

“In this day and age not caring about the arrest targets and crime numbers does not make you a bad copper, no matter what the Sergeants and Inspectors might try to make you think, far from it,” He replied simply “Being a good Copper is doing right by the people we’re supposed to serve and protect, everything else is ultimately secondary and comes with experience.”

PC Kirkman nodded thoughtfully, taking what Anderson had just said in for a few moments before the silence was broken by the ringing of a mobile phone. Anderson fished his device, an iPhone 7, swiped to accept the call and put it to his ear. He listened intently to the voice on the other end, the number belonged to a source in Falmouth that he had been tasked to keep track off, asking a few terse questions before hanging up the phone and glancing down at the young PC, who even stood up was somewhat shorter than he was, although that wasn’t difficult given that he was six foot one.

“Are you Taser qualified?” DC Anderson said, waiting for her to nod. “Good, grab your Taser and meet me outside… you can help me with that big picture.”

PC Kirkman looked confused but nodded and disappeared off to go and find her Taser. Unlike most countries police in the United Kingdom were not routinely armed with firearms; mainly because firearms were so heavily regulated that very few people had them, however the increased willingness of criminals to use knives and particularly the increased terrorist threat, more and more officers were being armed with Tasers as an alternative to the routine arming of British police officers. Of course DC Anderson, as a member of Special Branch, was also an authorised firearms officer (AFO), and was armed with a Glock 26, the standard-issue weapon for all plain-clothed AFOs within the Metropolitan Police; compared to the Glock 17 that was standard for uniformed AFOs. Soon enough PC Kirkman had returned, having pulled on her body armour as well as collecting her Taser, clearly appreciating that it was likely she was going into a dangerous situation, and the two of them got into DC Anderson’s unmarked police vehicle and set off.

It didn’t take them long to reach their destination; Falmouth Harbour, where Anderson’s source suggested there was a safe house, or rather a safe boat, from which at least one individual was operating. It was not one hundred per cent clear if it was related to the Goodrule Network, but it was suspicious enough at the wrong time to attract attention. The two of them quietly made their way down the jetty towards the target boat, stopping a short distance away to make sure there was no one on deck. Crouching behind another boat DC Anderson drew his Glock whilst PC Kirkman drew her Taser, both priming their weapons before sharing a nod and continuing along the jetty; DC Anderson in the lead given his weapon and more specialised training. Anderson stepped onto the boat first, doing his best to remain as quiet as possible and swept forwards, PC Kirkman moving aft to clear the wheelhouse and the ladder leading down into the rest of the ship. DC Anderson met her and gestured for her to move forwards and make her way into the vessel by the forward hatch whilst he took the more dangerous direct route.

As PC Kirkman moved forwards DC Anderson raised his weapon and descended the stairs carefully but quickly, sweeping his weapon for any targets; finding none, before moving further into the vessel. His heart was beating hard and fast in his chest as he moved to the next compartment, and sure enough he found himself facing an armed suspect who was whirling to face him; a weapon in his hand, and without hesitating any further he squeezed the trigger twice and put two rounds into the main’s chest; centre of mass, the man crumpling to the ground. Anderson moved quickly and kicked the man’s weapon away from him before kneeling to check for a pulse. It was only at this moment that he heard a click behind him and the pressure of a pistol’s muzzle being pressed against the back of his skull; his punishment for not clearing the next compartment before checking the (dead) suspect.

“You should not have done that,” The second man said coldly.

All that DC Anderson heard next was an odd clicking sound followed by the buzzing sound of electricity as the pressure of the weapon fell away from him and he quickly turned to see the second suspect writhing on the floor in obvious pain; two spikes protruding from his back and leading back a few feet to the Taser of PC Kirkman, who was stood in the next compartment looking frightened but determined as she applied the Taser’s electric charge long enough for DC Anderson to properly disarm and secure the suspect.

“Damned good work, Constable,” Anderson said as he applied his speed cuffs to the suspect.

“Thank you,” PC Kirkman smiled as she reloaded her Taser, then frowned as she holstered her weapon and pulled out a chart she had found in one of the other compartments. “I think you need to see this.”

Anderson frowned and looked down at the chart. There was a rendezvous point marked off the Sicily Islands, with a time marked for the following morning. It was obvious that this safe boat was supposed to head out there and meet up, likely with a larger vessel. It had been theorised by the Security Service that this was likely how the Goodrule managed to get their people and supplies in; large vessels were routinely checked by HM Customs officers, but smaller British-flagged vessels were not. If they kept their activities low-key they could easily operate a network under the radar; but this was the first time it had been confirmed.

“What do we do?” PC Kirkman frowned. “Do we call in Special Branch?”

DC Anderson thought for a moment.

“No, although Special Branch could get the resources we need to head out there to that ship in time it would be very noticeable and the risk of word getting back to the Goodrule and aborting the rendezvous,” DC Anderson commented. “We go ourselves; we’ll tell my superiors once we’re underway so they can send us reinforcements, but if we’re to keep the element of Surprise it needs to be kept quiet.”

“The two of us, against an entire crew of bad guys armed only with one 9mm pistol and a Taser,” PC Kirkman replied, looking sceptical of their chances. “Wait, I have an idea; my big brother is part of an ARV stationed in Falmouth; it’s only three more guys, but…”

“But five of us is better than two,” DC Anderson nodded. “Make the call.”

Police Constable Jonathan Kirkman
Goodrule Rendezvous Point, Off the Scilly Islands
Friday 8th June 2017, 0700hrs Local Time

PC Jonathan Kirkman hunkered down below decks with the other two members of his Armed Response Vehicle (ARV) team, checking over their weapons and preparing for what was about to come, they all knew it would be the fight of their lives. They had been on patrol outside of Falmouth when Jonathan had received the call from his little sister, and they had hurried to the harbour as soon as they realised what was going on. Before any of them had really had a chance to take stock of the situation they were underway and heading out to sea towards the rendezvous point. The Special Branch Detective that his sister seemed to have fallen in with had rang the situation into his superiors, who weren’t pleased with their man going off half-cocked in pursuit of the suspects but understanding that time was of the essence and that half of the Metropolitan Police descending on Falmouth would rather have given the game away. As much as he was glad that Katie had brought him on this, PC Kirkman was still somewhat apprehensive about what they were about to do. As an AFO he had faced down armed suspects on more than one occasion, but this was something else entirely.

Truth be told PC Kirkman was more than a little apprehensive of what was about to happen. They were about to board a far larger vessel, likely with an armed crew of at least twenty, with a boarding team a quarter that size; of which only four of them were actually armed with firearms and not just a Taser. PC Kirkman and his team had been able to lend DC Anderson one of their spare Heckler and Koch MP5, every ARV had a fourth submachinegun in their locked weapons case in the event of a critical failure with one of their principal weapons, and as an AFO himself he had the necessary training to make proper use of it. Katie, however, simply lacked the training to effectively make use of a firearm in a tactical situation; PC Kirkman could had leant his little sister his sidearm, but it would only make her more of a hazard to herself and others. No, her Taser would have to suffice for her own self-defence needs once they were on the target vessel. As for the rest of them, their 9mm SMGs would be ideal for the close-quarters of even the largest ship.

It was going to be dangerous, but nothing that they hadn’t trained for; they might not be Specialist Firearms Officers (SFOs), but they could do this.

The Metropolitan Police was reaching out to the Royal Navy for assistance, who had dispatched one of their Type-84 Frigates, HMS Surprise, to provide not only the intimidating power of her organic firepower but also her trained boarding teams. Unfortunately, the approach of a British naval vessel would almost certainly scare off the Goodrule ship, and as such the Surprise was under orders to remain below the horizon, with her AIS transponder deactivated, until they received the word from DC Anderson that they were aboard the ship and that the Goodrule had committed. The Type-84 was designed to be fast, so they could be upon them within half an hour, but their helicopter could be on them far quicker; meaning that as soon as the initial boarding team had secured the upper decks they could get the RN boarding party aboard as well, significantly evening the odds. As such PC Kirkman was comforted to know, at least, that they wound not entirely be on their own, but getting aboard the ship was the first obstacle they had to overcome.

Risking a glance above decks, not wanting to show his helmeted head to high above the side of the small coastal boat that DC Anderson and Katie had captured during the night, PC Kirkman could see up ahead as a large container ship was growing in the distance, flying a Libyan flag; likely a flag of convenience. In any case, it was easily within British territorial waters off the Scilly Isles, which made the boarding they were about to undertake legal under maritime law. DC Anderson was stood in deck, having changed out of his suit and wearing a sailing jacket over his body armour to hide his police identity to the Goodrule crew on deck. The coaster pulled alongside the container ship and a ladder was thrown down to them. Anderson began to make his way up the ladder; a job that PC Kirkman did not envy; he would be on the deck alone for several moments before PC Kirkman and his team could reach the deck; but it was the only way to ensure that the entire boarding team was not gunned down as the climbed the ladder onto the ship.

PC Kirkman watched as DC Anderson disappeared over the gunnel of the container ship and a few moments later several shots rang out and he and his team sprung into action, climbing the ladder quickly as more shots rang out. Kirkman was the second many over the side after DC Anderson, and was bringing his MP5 up to his shoulder and quickly fired off a controlled burst at a suspect raising a gun in DC Anderson’s direction, whose attention was focused on another armed suspect. Soon enough the entire boarding team was aboard, including Katie who kept her head down with her Taser drawn regardless. PC Kirkman and his team began to quickly clear the upper deck, DC Anderson and Katie following to make sure nothing was missed, and soon enough the upper decks were secured and PC Kirkman’s team was guarding the passageways deeper into the shop as DC Anderson and Katie secured the bridge and sent out the radio message that would bring the Royal Navy. Sure enough it was only a matter of minutes before a Lynx Wildcat helicopter was hovering over the freighter, just low enough for the four man boarding team, armed with L85A2 assault rifles, to jump down onto the deck; four more men would make all the difference once they got below decks.

It took PC Kirkman’s team and the RN boarding party a little under half an hour to adequately secure the ship to their satisfaction. The vast majority of the below deck crew surrendered without a fight; the Goodrule had only maintained a small security detail aboard and whilst the rest of the crew were complicit in their crimes, they were not prepared to die for what everyone else saw as a dead cause. Once of the individuals they arrested was the ship’s captain, whom PC Kirkman escorted to DC Anderson on the bridge to ensure that the ship could be safely navigated to a safe port were it could be seized and properly searched, although it would require a steaming party from the Royal Navy in order to operate it without setting half their prisoners loose to do so. Fortunately by the time PC Kirkman arrived on the bridge the sleek form of the Surprise was pulling alongside and RHIBs were being launched to bring over both a further security team and a steaming party.

PC Kirkman was midly Surprised to discover two RN Officers making their way onto the bridge; he had expected one to command the steaming party, in this case a Lieutenant, however another officer bearing the rank insignia of a Commander could only be the commanding officer of the Surprise.

“DC Anderson,” He said, offering his hand. “I’m Commander Luke McAvoy, Captain of the Surprise.”

“A pleasure to meet you, Sir,” DC Anderson replied with a nod, shaking the offered hand. “This is PC Kirkman of Cornwall Police.”

“You boys have caused quite a fuss out here, and lit a fire under our arses; that the Goodrule could be operating such a network at sea under our noses is humiliating to say the least,” Commander McAvoy scowled. “As much as we have global responsibilities, the Royal Navy also has a responsibility for home waters, something I think our political paymasters have forgotten up until this point… this should serve as a reminder.”

“Well, chances are there’ll be a new powers that be, soon enough,” DC Anderson commented wryly.

“Perhaps, but as a Roya Navy officer it would be inappropriate for me to comment further until if and when that becomes the case,” Commander McAvoy smiled. “However, in any event you have done a great service out here… I’d offer you all the hospitality of Surprise.”

“We’d be most grateful, Sir,” DC Anderson nodded. “I’ll leave two of our officers aboard here to help your security teams.”

“As you wish, I'd also recommend they get started on evidence and intelligence collection, this ship really ought to be a treasure trove, indeed it may very well help us take down the entire network,” Commander McAvoy agreed. “Now, let us back to the Surprise, I rather doubt any of you have had any breakfast, my officers would be pleased to host you in the wardroom I’m sure…”

[The Reborn British Empire]

Her Royal Highness The Princess Elizabeth of Wales
Windsor Castle, England
Friday 8th June 2017, 2100hrs Local Time

“Good evening, your royal highness,” Sir William Churchill said formally as he entered Elizabeth’s study. “You’re working late.”

Elizabeth glanced up from her laptop, a MacBook Pro, and smiled wryly. She was working on her speech for the following day; which would likely be the final one before Sir William delivered the petition that had been growing exponentially over recent days, with a view to revoking a last surge of signing. It was certainly looking hopeful for the outcome that they all wanted, the Churchill Petition, as it was known, had already become the most signed petition in history; millions had already signed and there were good odds that the petition would only continue to grow over the weekend. It would not be easy for the Dutch King’s Government to ignore such a petition; whilst there were always those that would accept the status quo, it was obvious now that they was a large part of the population were prepared to actively campaign against the status quo. Only a small minority, mainly those that had directly benefited in some way from the Dutch King’s rule, which of course meant that a clear majority of the population actively supported Elizabeth’s claim, and had thus signed the petition, or were more than happy to see a change of monarch if it changed things for the better; and a resurgent Britain, independent and strong on its own two feet,, seemed more likely to lead to prosperity than being under the thumb of a foreign King.

Of course, neither Sir William nor Princess Elizabeth was taking the outcome for granted.

It was still entirely possible that the Dutch King would be stubborn and refuse to bow to the will of the British people, which would stand him in stark contrast to his predecessors on the throne, as far back as the Magna Carta there had been a delicate balance between the King and his peoples; the King was in charge, of course, but only a foolish King would stand in opposition to the determined stance of the British people; as some had learnt to their peril. Although he could not actively do so, Sir William had, through Admiral Collingwood, began to put feelers out across the British military forces that were actually British, regarding a contingency plan in the event that the King refused the petition; although he was keeping the details from his Princess for the moment at least.

From her training, at Annapolis, the Princess was able to see easily enough that such a campaign would be difficult, to say the least. The Banjamoni Premiership had ensured that in the years immediately after the end of the Goodrule Terror the British had built up for themselves a formidable military, all things considered. Never again, the policy makers of the time had said, would Britain allow itself to be defeated militarily when it came to defending their island nation. Elizabeth had no doubt that the British would be able to evict the small Dutch garrisons within England and Wales, and likely would be able to withstand any attempts at an invasion to retake the country by force, but it seemed unlikely that they would be able to fight the much larger Franco-Dutch Army on the continent. A significant portion of the United Kingdom’s military strength was tied up in the Royal Navy, as it should be, and the Royal Air Force, sufficient to defend their islands from invasion in the first place and to project British influence and power overseas, but the British Army was, as it had always been, a far smaller, professional force that was heavily biased towards defending Britain and limited expeditionary operations overseas in support of British policy objectives.

Such a doctrine had long ensured that British adventures overseas had generally been in support of specific objectives rather than open-ended operations with unclear objectives. This of course stood in stark contrast to recent Dutch-led adventures in Pakistan, where many leading military figures foresaw significant problems. There was a reason after all why the British had been able to form one of the largest and greatest Empires the world had ever seen, certainly of its time, and that was by being smart with their colonization, their policies and their emphasis on maintaining her informal Empire of influence as much as her formal Empire of physical territory held. It was such an approach that Elizabeth knew that Sir William fully intended to pursue once all this was said and done; the only way to ensure that Britain never again fell into enemy hands was strength, and Britain’s strength had always been in it Empire; and in order to take advantage of that strength the men, women and children who were under British rule all over the world had to be invested in the effort, and that could only be done through co-operation.

All of which meant that the British Military was rather specialised towards a certain type of warfare, it was very good in those types of warfare, but fighting a major land war on the continent on short notice was not one of those.

“Well, if I don’t pull this speech out of the bag and get as many people as possible to sign up to our cause, then all of those may be for nothing if the Dutch King refuses our petition,” Elizabeth replied with a shrug. “After all this effort, after everything we’ve risked to get this far, to face the possibility of going back to living an ordinary life, wouldn’t you be staying up late to try and make sure you got it right?”

“You have a point, Ma’am,” Sir William smiled in return. “I have every confidence you’ll do great.”

“I hope so,” Elizabeth sighed heavily. “We have a lot riding on this.”

“We do, but we also need to start looking towards to the future,” Sir William replied. “You could very well be Queen by Monday.”

“What do you suggest?” Elizabeth frowned.

“Well, we need to be able to show that we can quickly take the reins of power; if we start off your rule by being slow and indecisive it does not give the best first impression of our new Elizabethan age,” Sir William pointed out. “We should start by determining what sort of Queen you want to be; neither the previous constitutional convention nor the direct rule of the Banjamoni King are suitable for the kind of world we live in right now.”

“Again, Sir, I ask you what you suggest,” Elizabeth repeated.

“My solution is simple enough; in this day and age we must have a system in which the laws of the land, legislation, are introduced, debated and voted on by the duly elected representatives of the people, and as the birthplace of Parliamentary democracy nothing else would do for Britain,” Sir William replied after a few moments of silence. “At the same time the country would benefit from a strong, independent monarch who can serve both as a symbol of national unity and a valuable source of experience, not to mention the ideal representative of the nation on the international stage; after all the democratically elected government will be in your name.”

“How is that different from what came before?” Elizabeth frowned.

“Because I am not talking about making you a mere figurehead, who rubber-stamps everything put under her nose by this government or that, by Prime Ministers who may ignore her advice and experience if they do not agree, by men and women who may be too heavily influenced by partisan party politics,” Sir William explained as he leant back in the chair he had settled into. “You would be strong, albeit limited, executive leader; a true head of state as a counterweight to the head of government, the PM, you would not be able to directly make policy, although indirectly through influence you would, you would not be compelled to accept any legislation or appointment against your will.”

“Ensuring that the Crown’s influence will be far more tangible without compromising the democratic ideals, as well as ensuring that there will always be an independent executive leader to counter any excesses of a by-the-very-nature political PM,” Elizabeth nodded her understanding of the suggestion. “If I could make my own suggestion; the Crown should be capable of being deposed by Parliament for high crimes; I do not intend to be above the law, and the heir to the throne should be compelled by law to marry a Commoner; to keep in touch with the people.”

“Wonderful ideas, Ma’am,” Sir William agreed. “Now, if we could move into officeholders… for your interim Prime Minister up until we can hold our own general election I would suggest tapping Jo-.”

“No, I don’t want a stranger or a safe choice,” Elizabeth said sharply. “Sir William Churchill, I would name you Prime Minister.”

Sir William looked surprised, to say the least. For all he had been seen by many as the most likely Prime Minister going forwards, he was no born politician and he would gladly have allowed another individual to take the position. In any case, he had not anticipated Elizabeth selecting him even before his party won the general election that would be held after Elizabeth was seated upon her rightful throne, it all but ensured that he would certainly be the Prime Minister going forwards; few would question the wisdom of their new Queen going forwards. Not when there would be so many challenges facing a newly sovereign United Kingdom.

“I would be honoured, Ma’am,” Sir William replied formally.

“Good,” Elizabeth smiled. “Now, who would you suggest for the great offices of state?”

Over the next couple of hours, the two discussed a wide range of potential appointments going forwards, as well as the exact structure of the government that Sir William would form in her name as soon as she formally became Queen. Some were currently elected Members of Parliament (MPs), from across all parties as well as Sir William’s own centrists to ensure that the first government of Elizabeth’s reign would be in the national interest, at least until formal elections could be held. Others were well-respected experts in their fields, whom Elizabeth would raise to the peerage, both to allow them to serve in government (and be accountable to Parliament) and to begin to rebuild and replenish the heavily thinned out British peerage. Elizabeth had come to rely on and trust the advice and sheer wealth of experience that Sir William provided, and she sincerely hoped that his Centrist Party would turn out to be the biggest party at the elections so that he could continue to serve as her Prime Minister, as much as the constitutional framework they had discussed would not compel her to accept a Prime Minister against her will, she did not believe that her first usage of her far more real veto was opposing the democratic will of her subjects.

Fortunately both Sir William and Elizabeth agreed that it was likely that they would be fortunate to enjoy a honeymoon period, hopefully of a few years, in which they could set the nation on the right course for the future; one that would allow prosperity to flourish even after the political stage returned to something more ‘normal’.

“This feels all very real,” Elizabeth commented wryly as she glanced down at her watch and saw that it was by now almost midnight; she and Sir William had been talking for nearly three hours now, something she’d have to get used to if she was to be as active a Queen as they both wanted her to be; the evolving British constitution; the dignified and the efficient, adapting to changing times. “It would be rather awkward if it all went to hell.”

“It would rather,” Sir William agreed with a laugh. “However I rather doubt it will.”

Sir Jonathan Edwards KBE
New Broadcasting House, London
Monday 12th June 2017, 0900hrs Local Time

“Good Morning… this is London…”

Sir Jonathan Edwards looked into the camera with bright eyes despite an otherwise weary expression. It was obvious that he had been up all night if the bags under his eyes and his clothing was clearly not as smart as it would normally have been. But then given that he had been up all night this was perhaps not surprising. Sir William Churchill had delivered the Great Sovereignty Petition, as it was being called, to Number Ten Downing Street, where Prime Minister Soer had subsequently delivered it to his Dutch King. The Princess had given an impassioned, heart-felt speech the previous night and the last surge of signatures had swelled the petition significantly; it was now all but impossible to ignore. Of course naturally, this meant that the ambitious Dutch King intended to do just that; unwilling to give up on Britain; which for whatever reason had been his greatest ambition to rule, he had ordered Prime Minister Soer to disregard the petition out of hand. Worse, he had ordered Soer to direct the Metropolitan Police to arrest Sir William, who had on charges of treason. It was here that things had come to a breaking point; for the Commissioner of the Metropolis, the head of the Met, had refused the order.

The Dutch King had then attempted to order the General Officer Commanding, London District, to deploy troops to facilitate the arrest of both Sir William and, now, the Met Commissioner as well. Major General Kenneth Barnes, who was British by birth, had also refused the order. By this point word of the drama had begun to spread on social media, likely leaked from within the false King’s own household, and after a high ranking military officer confirmed the reports, the BBC and all other major news networks broke the news officially. The response had been quick and dramatic; within an hour of the news officially breaking shortly before midnight, the streets of London, and indeed every British city, had been flooded with protestors. The Mall, that great centre of ceremonial pomp and circumstance running up to Buckingham Palace, normally filled with people during grand state ceremonies, was now flooded with angry, loud protestors, determined to make their dissatisfaction abundantly clear to the Dutch King in residence in Buckingham Palace.

The Metropolitan Police was in attendance, but only to control the crowd and prevent chaos rather than anything else, and although the Dutch Guards, in their distinctive orange (rather than red) tunics were mounting guard on Buckingham Palace, the rest of the Household Division was conspicuously absent. Major General Barnes had however deployed troops from the London Regiment to form a line between the crowd and Buckingham Palace; but these troops were stood, their facing alternating, one facing the crowd, the other the palace, to make entirely clear that they were here as much to protect the crowd from the Dutch Guard than to protect the Palace from the throng of angry people. No one in central London had got much sleep that night; least of all the false King, as the crowd remained largely peaceful, content to just make a lot of noise chanting and singing patriotic, British, songs; some of which had not been used under the Dutch King in favour of more continental counterparts. There would always be some idiots of course, but they were largely given up by the crowd itself and arrested by the Police for public order offences, rather than anything more severe.

“As morning dawns on the Capital the protests that began late last night, as word of the King’s refusal to step aside in favour of Princess Elizabeth, following Sir William Churchill’s delivery of the Great Sovereignty Petition to Downing Street, continues without any signs of abating, tens of thousands fill the Mall and St. James’ Park alone,” Sir Jonathan began his broadcast, as images of the protest appeared on the display behind him. “A clear rift is forming between the Soer Government and the British Institutions they nominally control, with the Army Headquarters joining the London District and the Metropolitan Police in refusing orders from the King to deploy troops onto the streets of the Capital to restore order; Naval Command Headquarters and HQ Air Command have yet to be directly ordered and as such have made no open declarations of their intentions.”

Behind Sir Jonathan, the picture turned to show Paris, Berlin and the Hague.

“The protests which began in London quickly spread to the continent, with thousands angrily the King’s continued intransigence on the issue; the bubbling discontent in the rest of his Empire beginning to boil over as it becomes fundamentally clear that a clear majority of the British population want nothing to do with him,” Sir Jonathan added. “The discontent on the continent has taken something of a backseat to the affairs within Britain itself, however the King can no longer afford to ignore events at home, and although there are those decrying any attempt to cast Britain aside, there are plenty more arguing that the King ought to focus his attentions on the Continent.”

Sir Jonathan paused.

“Never the less, it is becoming increasingly obvious that the King’s position in Britain is becoming increasingly untenable; the General Election scheduled for today has been cancelled because of the public disorder, and the sheer number of protestors on the street must be giving both Prime Minister Soer and the King pause for thought going forwards…” Sir Jonathan continued, before pausing as if listening to something and the banner beneath the broadcast changed to read ‘Breaking News’. “The BBC can now report exclusively that, likely bowing in the face of public upheaval, Mr Soer has travelled to Buckingham Palace to inform His Majesty that, unless he relinquishes his claims to the British Throne, he will resign his position; a move that would almost certainly allow the movement under Sir William to take control.”

Sir Jonathan continued to listen to his earpiece.

“Any government formed by Sir William and his coalition is likely to enforce the removal of His Majesty by Parliamentary means, in short meaning that the King has the choice between being forced out, potentially losing his continental holdings in the process, or voluntarily relinquishing his claims to Britain whilst retaining his continental territory,” Sir Jonathan explained, as a constitutional advisor spoke to him through the earpiece. “Given that this report is coming to us from official sources within the Royal Household, it seems likely that the King has also bowed to public opinion and intends to stand aside in favour of the Princess, however we are yet to receive confirmation of this, however for the first time since her arrival in the country, Princess Elizabeth has been invited to the Palace to meet with the King.”

Her Royal Highness The Princess Elizabeth of Wales
Buckingham Palace, London
Monday 12th June 2017, 1200hrs Local Time

Elizabeth could not help but smile as she stepped out of the Jaguar XJ that had ferried her to Buckingham Palace from Windsor Castle and waved to the crowd who roared in approval at her appearance. A few moments later Sir William stepped out from the same vehicle, having donned his uniform as a Field Marshal in the British Army, although he was on the inactive list an officer of five-star rank never technically retired. The reasoning for his choice of attire was three-fold; first Elizabeth herself was in naval uniform, second to demonstrate the support she enjoyed of the British Armed Forces, and thirdly to make the pistol he wore on his belt less conspicuous just in case he needed to protect his Princess in case this was some dastardly trap. He doubted it would be, given that both Elizabeth and he doubted that the Dutch King would survive to escape if he murdered her, but it was there just in case, as her close protection detail would remain in the Quadrangle of Buckingham Palace. The Royal Household had been distinctly quiet all morning, only saying that Richard IV, the false Dutch King who took his regnal name from a line of mixed Kings, wished to see her privately following a night of protests over his initial rejection of the petition.

After waving to the crowd Elizabeth made her way towards the Palace, the gates opening as she did so. The orange-coated Dutch Guards glared at her sullenly as she passed by them not, she noted, rendering military courtesy to either her or Sir William, despite their military ranks after all politics were set aside. She paid it no notice and continued inside; they were met by footmen and escorted to the Throne Room above the Great Entrance Hall. As she stepped inside Elizabeth was overcome by a realisation of everything she had been taught about her family, and everything she knew about her future, and felt her breath almost taken away by the history and the sheer responsibility. This was tempered somewhat by righteous anger as she saw a figure sat upon the throne at the far end of the room.

Elizabeth and Sir William stopped shortly before the False King upon the British Throne, both pointedly did not bow or courtesy. Silence reigned as the False King and the Would-Be Queen stared each other down until Elizabeth broke the silence in her quiet, yet powerful voice.

“You are in my chair, I believe.”

King Richard smiled dryly.

“Some would say that is a matter for debate,” He replied. “I would say that it is my chair.”

“I’m sure you would,” Elizabeth commented. “I and the British People disagree, however.”

“So it would seem,” King Richard sighed. “My people, and yours it seems, leave me with a difficult choice; I can stick it out and try and hold onto my entire realm, or I can accept your claim to Britain and return to Holland, back to my people.”

“With respect, the choice I think is no longer yours; you stay here and you will be overthrown,” Elizabeth commented wryly, glancing out the window; in the distance, the crowd could be seen through the archway. “If you are overthrown here, you risk losing everything.”

“Especially if your Prime Minister resigns,” Sir William added pointedly.

“What you say is, unfortunately, true,” King Richard sighed. “Then you know I am left with no choice; the British Throne is yours.”

Elizabeth was silent for a moment as she absorbed what the man in front of her had just said. He would peacefully hand over the throne to her; in effect hand Britain back to its people. Moreover, it was the culmination of her entire life to this point; everything she had done and everything she had gone through had been to prepare her to become Queen. It also meant that everything in her life up until now had both had a purpose and, now, meant nothing. All that mattered was what type of Queen she would be going forwards; and whether she would prove herself worthy of the outpouring of support she had received. She hoped she was.

“What of the Samoas, and Mauritius?” Elizabeth asked, honouring her pledge to do so. “All three would prefer the British Crown to the Dutch, as evidenced by their signatures on my petition?”

King Richard grimaced.

“Must you take all my Empire away from me?” He sighed. “Very well, I will not stand in their way.”

“Good… now I’m sure we have much to discuss regards the transition, but I suggest we give the crowd the good news,” Elizabeth commented forcefully, making clear that this was her home now. “You go out onto the balcony first, I will follow.”

King Richard nodded and the three of them made their way around the Palace until they reached the very front and Richard stepped out onto the balcony and was immediately inundated with boos as no true British Monarch would ever know upon the world-famous balcony of Buckingham Palace. Elizabeth smiled slightly for a moment, she should not really take such vindictive pleasure at the man’s fall from grace, but she could not help herself. She waited just long enough before stepping out onto the balcony herself; the crowd roaring with approval as soon as they saw her; knowing what her appearance on the balcony meant.

They had a new Queen… their once and future Queen.

[Cotland]

Official Telegram


TO: Her Majesty, Queen Elizabeth of England
FM: The Royal Foreign Ministry of the Realm of Cotland
SUBJ: Diplomatic Recognition

Dear Madam,

It is with great joy that His Cottish Majesty's Government has learned of the peaceful transition of power in England and Your Majesty's subsequent ascension to the Throne of England. His Cottish Majesty's Government rejoices with this news, and takes great pleasure and joy as it formally recognize the transition of power from Holland to the hands of the English people.

Accordingly, His Cottish Majesty's Government hereby formally recognize Your Majesty, Queen Elizabeth Windsor, as the rightful and lawful Monarch of England. May the Gods keep and protect Your Majesty and may Your reign be a long and prosperous one!

As a symbol of our friendly intentions, His Cottish Majesty's Government hereby extends an offer to establish formal diplomatic relations between the Kingdom of England and the Realm of Cotland, and invite Your Majesty to send and establish a diplomatic legation in the Cottish capital city of Oslo. There are many topics of discussion, including the desire to open trading relations, cultural exchanges and other important and mutually beneficial topics.

We await Your Majesty's response with great hope and anticipation.


I remain, Madam, Your most humble servant,

Helene Josefine Styrenstiert
Foreign Minister of the Realm of Cotland

OOC: Consider that this is transmitted once formal Dutch/British channels have acknowledged the transition of power.

[The Reborn British Empire]

Act II
Changing of the Guard

He that would make his own liberty secure, must guard even his enemy from oppression; for if he violates this duty, he establishes a precedent that will reach to himself.
-Thomas Paine

[The Reborn British Empire]

Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth III
Buckingham Palace, London
Monday 12th June 2017, 2100hrs Local Time

Elizabeth, alone for the moment in the throne room, lowered herself gingerly onto the throne upon the raised dais at the northern end of the room. In many respects, she had been waiting for this moment all her life, and preparing for it, now that she had the chance to seat herself upon the throne she was more than a little apprehensive. After all the trials and tribulations that had brought her to the moment it was almost too easy to lower herself onto the throne and take up the mantle of Queenship. Ever since the Dutch King had indicated that he intended to step aside, some nine hours before by this point, Elizabeth had felt a sudden weight upon her shoulders; a psychological of the sheer responsibility that now rested upon her. For all that her position as Queen would bring her significant wealth and privileges, it also came with a great deal of duties and responsibilities, all of which she was prepared to shoulder, particularly given that role that both she and Sir William anticipated her taking in the political arena going forwards; for all her power would be limited, rightfully so in the twenty-first century, she would wield significant authority.

As for the Dutch King Richard, the man had left an hour previously following a special Changing of the Guard ceremony, which was normally held earlier in the day shortly before noon, in which the Dutch Guards were relived by the Grenadier Guards who proceeded to mount the Queen’s Guard. Elizabeth and Richard had shared a long conversation in the hour leading up to the Dutch King’s departure and had discussed several matters; it was obvious that given the threats facing Europe, and European monarchies in general, that they could not afford to stand in opposition to each other. No one was suggesting that they ought to be close friends or allies, but it would be ideal if could at least remain neutral with each other. Both knew that there would be some in the remainder of the Dutch Empire who opposed Richard surrendering Britain to its people as he had done, and those elements would demand a certain degree of hostility towards the newly sovereign British, but for the good of both Kingdoms there had to be a balance. In a show of friendship, the two Monarchs had saluted each other’s and shook hands in front of the still massive crowds in front of Buckingham Palace during the Changing of the Guard.

Elizabeth glanced up as a knock on the door echoed around the Throne Room and saw Sir William open the nearest door.

“Are you ready, Your Majesty?” He asked.

“I am,” Elizabeth nodded and settled back onto the throne.

Sir William nodded and held open the door to allow the small group of men and women behind him to enter the throne room. Leading the group was Admiral Collingwood, looking resplendent in the ceremonial day dress uniform of a Royal Navy Admiral, complete with medals and sword, it was the rarest of uniforms worn only on the most important occasions. Immediately after Collingwood was a woman in the dress uniform of the Royal Air Force; wearing the rank insignia of an Air Marshal; this was Jennifer Sinclair, a pilot who had distinguished herself during the Goodrule Terror flying vital supply missions for the resistance. Another man wearing British Army ceremonial uniform was General Sir Richard Dannatt, the senior officer remaining now that the Dutch had begun their withdrawal. Following the group of military officers were two civilians, Alistair McDougall from the Foreign Office, having served as a senior Under-Secretary of State for the Dutch, and Michael Garland, senior Under-Secretary of State at the Home Office. In short just the sort of people that Elizabeth would need to form the heart of her government, to begin with.

The group of six formed a line before the throne and bowed formally.

“Sir William Churchill,” Elizabeth said crisply, in the command voice she had developed at Annapolis. “Step forward.”

Sir William stepped forwards, stood to attention and rendered a parade-perfect salute.

“William Churchill, in recognition of your service to the Crown and the Nation, both in recent weeks and over the past two decades, including leading the Resistance during the Goodrule Terror, it is my great privilege to bestow upon you the following,” Elizabeth said formally. “By the power vested in me by Almighty God, I do hereby exercise my right, duty and privilege to bestow upon you the title, style dignity and honour of Duke of Norfolk, Earl of Arundel and Baron Churchill, and Knight Companion of our Most Noble Order of the Garter.”

William, now Duke of Norfolk, looked shocked and amazed for a few moments before bowing deeply. In one fell swoop Elizabeth had not only raised him to the highest levels of the peerage but in doing so had placed in in precedence above all others in the United Kingdom save for herself. Historically the Dukes of Norfolk had been the premier Duke’s in the United Kingdom, and with the evisceration of the British Peerage during the Goodrule Terror, it seemed likely that this would continue to be the case. The previous holders of the title had all been wiped out during the Terror, as had many of the other prominent families, meaning that Elizabeth would have to work tirelessly to restore the peerage, with men and women deserving of such august and historically significant titles.

“You honour me, Your Majesty,” The Duke of Norfolk said formally.

“I’m not finished yet,” Elizabeth smiled wryly. “As we previously discussed, I would also ask you to form a Government in my name and serve as my Prime Minister.”

“It would be my honour to accept, Ma’am,” Norfolk said with a nod.

“Good,” Elizabeth nodded. “Sir George Collingwood, step forward.”

Admiral Sir George Collingwood stepped forwards and saluted crisply.

“George Collingwood, in recognition of your service to the Crown and the Nation, both in recent weeks and over the past two decades, including playing a vital role in the Resistance during the Goodrule Terror, it is my great privilege to bestow upon you the following,” Elizabeth said formally. “By the power vested in me by Almighty God, I do hereby exercise my right, duty and privilege to bestow upon you the title, style dignity and honour of Duke of Devonshire, Earl of Burlington and Baron Collingwood, and Knight Companion of our Most Noble Order of the Garter.”

George, now Duke of Devonshire, looked less shocked than William had but still looked just as amazed to have been suddenly raised to the peerage, but then it was perhaps to be expected. The new Duke had saved Elizabeth once upon a time, had served with distinction during the Resistance and had been a vital planner in the fall-back plans for if the Dutch King had refused to surrender the throne. He was one of the few of the native British to retain or gain senior positions after the ‘merger’ of the Dutch and British states, which spoke volumes of his reputation.

“Thank You, Your Majesty,” The Duke of Devonshire said formally.

“Good, after discussions with William, I would also like to appoint you to Cabinet, if you have no objections,” Elizabeth continued and waited for him to nod his agreement. “Excellent, I, therefore, name you Secretary of State for Defence.”

“I’d be honoured to accept,” Devonshire replied, echoing Norfolk.

As Devonshire returned to his place Elizabeth turned her attention to the others present. General Dannatt became Chief of the Defence Staff, whilst Jennifer Sinclair became Chief of the Air Staff, both men with instructions to promote those they deemed worthy to fill the vacuum at senior levels of the British Army and Royal Air Force, with Devonshire tasked with finding a First Sea Lord who would do the same for the Royal Navy. Retired senior officers, likely those who served during the Resistance, would be appointed to serve as the civilian heads of the Admiralty, the War Office and the Air Ministry who would all regain their individual departments under the broader Ministry of Defence structure. Alistair McDougall became Foreign Secretary and Michael Garland became Home Secretary. There were still Ministers who would need to be appointed, most notably a Chancellor of the Exchequer, but as the Dutch continued their withdrawal the task of building a new, British Government could begin in earnest.

“Well, Ma’am, we’ve got a great deal of work to be getting on with, however, certain issues are taken an immediate precedence I’m afraid,” Norfolk commented after they retired from the Throne Room to an adjoining sitting room where they all sat. “I believe that George, Alistair and Michael all have issues of importance, and given your Majesty’s newly involved role now is as good a time as any.”

“Indeed,” Elizabeth nodded. “Well defence has to be our highest priority, so my Lord Devonshire, please begin.”

“As Your Majesty may be aware the situation in the former Dutch Colonies of Mauritius and Samoa has never been particularly pleasant, to say the least; neither have truly forgiven them for the violence inflicted upon them during the initial invasions,” Devonshire began, leaning forward to address the group. “Militant groups existed in both colonies, particularly Mauritius and the Dutch Garrisons have been fighting counter-insurgency campaigns for years; now the situation in the Samoan Islands has largely been resolved by your ascension, the same cannot be said for Mauritius.”

Devonshire paused.

“Although the majority of the so-called Mauritius Defence Front have indicated their intention to voluntarily lay down their arms, in return for a more democratic form of colonial government than currently exists, they recognize the risk of going it alone in that part of the world, there exists something of a hard-line faction within the MDF,” Devonshire explained. “The Mauritius Colonial Council has formally requested that, in anticipation of elections to turn themselves from an appointed body to an elected one, as part of our takeover, we deploy our troops to replace the Dutch Garrison, restore order and hunt down the remaining elements of the MDF once and for all.”

Elizabeth frowned.

“I do not think that our first action should be to put down a resistance movement,” Elizabeth commented. “Not when we’ve just campaigned for our own sovereignty.”

“With respect, Ma’am, the two things are entirely different; and only a fool would believe anyone who tries to equate them; your accession was the result of the expressed wish of the entire British people, the MDF represent a tiny minority of diehards,” Devonshire replied promptly. “Moreover, the Mauritius Colonial Council has specifically asked for our help in putting down the MDF, we would be acting at the request of local representatives in support of an effort to reform and democratise colonial administration.”

“You have a point,” Elizabeth conceded. “How would we proceed?”

“Mauritius is heavily forested and heavily mountainous, so armour or heavily mechanized forces are out, and given that it’ll be essential that we earn the hearts and minds of the native residences, it’s a light infantry job,” Devonshire answered, clearly having done his research and taken advice from his commanders. “Fortunately, HMS Ocean is currently deployed to the Indian Ocean on Operation Kipion, they’re carrying a full complement of Royal Marines, and can be on-station within forty-eight hours.”

“How many Royal Marines does Ocean carry?”

“Ocean’s embarked military force is 45 Commando, that’s six-hundred-ninety-two officers and men, along with support and logistic personnel,” Devonshire replied. “Add two destroyers and four frigates, that’ll ensure a wide spectrum of capabilities and firepower.”

“Where exactly is Ocean and her group?”

“North of Madagascar, forty-eight hours steaming away,” Devonshire said simply.

Elizabeth glanced over at Norfolk.

“My Lord?”

“There are those out there that will see this transition period as a period of potential instability and weakness on our part, as the Dutch Garrisons remove and ours move in, this is a good chance to show our strength,” Norfolk replied thoughtfully, having remained silence during Devonshire’s briefing on the options. “Moreover, there are very few ways this can play badly for us’ the Mauritius Council wants us there, they want our military support; to paint it as anything else would be moronically propagandistic and only a fool would believe it.”

“You think we should go for it?” Elizabeth queried.

“I do,” Norfolk nodded. “I am sure that Mr McDougal will agreed.”

“Indeed, I do, Ma’am,” McDougal nodded. “It’ll certainly set the tone.”

“Very well, you have my authorisation,” Elizabeth said after a moments thought. “Now, Secretary Garland, you next please.”

“Of course, Ma’am; my matter concerns the hunt for the war criminal known as the Viper, real name believed to be Manuel Rodriguez; as your Majesty is aware from her national security briefings, the Viper is believed to be responsible for the heinous attempt on your life, as well as the attempt to strike Battleship Rodney at Portsmouth Naval Base,” Garland began, passing around a number of folders holding a summary of all the intelligence gathered by MI5 and MI6. “An overseas operation by MI6 successfully located and identified the Viper in the Southern Balkans Confederation, and indeed there was an MI6 Operative in prime position to strike, however after the attempt on your life the Viper’s compound went on lockdown, and our operative does not believe that he could successfully terminate the target.”

Elizabeth leant back in her chair as she considered this news. The Viper was the bastard who had killed her entire family, most notably of course her predecessor and namesake; Elizabeth II. Now that they knew where he was it was unconscionable that they not strike and kill the monster once and for all. The preferred option, a surgical assassination by a British Operative, was clearly no longer possible.

“What are our military options?”

“We could launch a strike against the Viper’s Compound, Ma’am, given our lack of an air base in the Mediterranean it would fall upon the Navy to take that particular honour, however it would be difficult if not impossible to confirm the kill, even if we blanket the area with cruise missiles and the balance of possibilities suggests a kill,” Devonshire replied. “The better option would be to launch a ground operation, based on the intelligence the compound is defended but not impregnable, and a ground assault could launch an attack with minimal casualties if properly supported, that way we’ll know for sure if we get the bastard, and is subtler than a cruise missile barrage.”

“Perhaps, but it also puts our boots down in that quagmire,” Elizabeth commented. “William, what do you think?”

“I think we need to kill the bastard, if you’ll excuse the language Ma’am,” Norfolk replied bluntly. “If that means we need to wade knee deep into a bad situation then we should do it, like Mauritius it’ll certainly set the tone for how we intend to never be cowed again.”

Elizabeth smiled at Norfolk’s coarse tongue; she knew that few would use such language in her presence, although she was hardly unused to it, living around sailors for the past four years after all.

“Eloquently put, my lord,” Elizabeth smiled, turning back to the Duke of Devonshire. “How would we do this?”

“The Heavy Cruiser York is currently fifty miles west of Malta, that puts her approximately sixteen hours steaming away from a staging point in the Adriatic Sea; as she is a Cruiser she is unescorted, but she’s our closest and most capable asset,” Devonshire replied promptly, leaning forwards again. “In addition to her formidable armament, she also carries a company of Royal Marines due to her independent nature as a Cruiser, they’ll be able to deploy ashore and, with fire support from York, should be able to capture the target.”

“Do we give the SBC’s quote-unquote government any forewarning?” Elizabeth queried.

“I’d recommend not, Ma’am, we’re more likely to tip off the Viper to our intentions if we do so, we believe he has sources within the highest levels of the SBC,” Devonshire replied bluntly. “Moreover, the SBC doesn’t have anything that could really oppose York, so its not like we have to ask permission.”

“Very well, that sounds like the more practical course of action, operation authorised,” Elizabeth nodded. “Alright, what’s next?”

Norfolk nodded to Alistair McDougall who leant forward.

“Your Majesty, we’ve talked a lot about the tone that we want to set in our foreign relations and military activity, which is all well and good, but we need talk specifics,” McDougall said bluntly, cutting through the abstract to the detail. “So far only the Cottish Realm has recognized your accession to the Throne, however I doubt they’ll be the last, we need to determine a response to them and others.”

“You know my thoughts on the Cottish, my Lord Norfolk,” Elizabeth commented dryly. “Especially with regards to Scotland.”

“Scotland will almost certainly be an issue, going forwards, Ma’am,” Norfolk commented. “Unlike Ireland which went on its own path well before the Goodrule Terror, Scotland was part of the United Kingdom up until the Terror, and the majority of Scots supported continued union.”

“That may be true, Ma’am, however although I am not a military man I am sure I do not need to tell you that we do not have the military strength to take back Scotland by force, and that’s not even counting the involvement of the Layartebians as well,” McDougall replied bluntly. “The only way we are, realistically, going to reclaim Scotland in the short to medium term, without a major crisis engulfing the Cottish Realm, is through diplomacy, we can offer concessions and try and strike a deal through diplomacy… we cannot if are openly hostile on all matters, not simply Scotland.”

“I do not intend to simply give up on Scotland,” Elizabeth said firmly. “I was born in Scotland after all.”

“I understand that, Ma’am, I am Scottish myself, I am simply recommending restraint; we take what we can from them through trade and the like, and we continue to push for Scotland, but we do it diplomatically,” McDougall explained earnestly. “As I said, if we can strike a deal, in some form, to get Scotland back then surely that is better than thousands of men and women on both sides dying.”

“Trade with the Cottish, and her allies, would also help our own economy,” Devonshire commented. “A strong economy would allow us to continue to build up our military, giving us options in the long run.”

“Not quite what I had in mind, Ma’am, but Lord Devonshire has a point,” McDougall conceded.

“Very well,” Elizabeth sighed. “What about the others?”

“It’s early days yet, Ma’am, and I think it would be foolish to discuss responses to diplomatic recognition we’ve not received,” McDougall replied simply. “We do however expect to hear from the USSR shortly, and I cannot imagine the EoL will be far behind, given our proximity to their Irish Republic.”

“Indeed, and you make a good point; I think we’ve got enough to be getting on with anyway,” Elizabeth nodded. “Thank you for your time, everyone, let’s get to work.”

[Marimaia]

June 12th, 2017, 01:30hrs [UTC +3]
Kiev, Ukraine SSR, USSR

The day's events had proceeded at a pace which took the Soviet government slightly by surprise, although they certainly had no complaints about that fact. A peaceful transition to independence for the 'British Heartlands' was precisely what Premier Zharkov had been hoping for as it would allow the USSR to firmly establish diplomatic relations with the new British government without instantly alienating the remaining government of King Richard; rather than having to pick a side, the Soviets would be able to maintains relations with both sides. After waiting to ensure that the transfer of sovereignty from King Richard to Queen Elizabeth had actually taken place, as Zharkov had still been prepared for a last-minute change of mind or sudden opportunistic strike, several high-ranking members of the Soviet regime were still awake and active despite the early hour in Kiev due to the importance that they placed on being one of the first nations to officially recognise the new British government. Premier Zharkov foresaw the possiblity of a close relationship with the British despite their ideological differences as a more pragmatic and realpolitik approach could yield sustantial rewards for both nations; the Soviets could gain a new and revitalised ally and trading partner, while the British could gain not just a major trading partner but also a powerful supporter in their potential issues with the membership of the October Alliance. The Soviet Minister of Foreign Affairs, Yuri Matveyev, was operating on strong cups of coffee and regular phonecalls from Premier Zharkov regarding finer details of both the imminent communique and the immediate future of Soviet diplomatic staff in both the new British state and the now slightly smaller Dutch nation. Between them they had decided that Ambassador Mikhail Ivashov would transfer to Amsterdam and remain ambassador to His Majesty King Richard while the embassy in London would be placed in the hands of the newly appointed ambassador Roman Lisitsyn, who had been due for a promotion and this appeared to be the perfect opportunity, provided that the British gave their permission.

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Ministry of Foreign Affairs of the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics
Official Communiqué from the Minister of Foreign Affairs

To: Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth III of the United Kingdom

Your Majesty,

It is both my duty and pleasure at this time to offer the best wishes and congratulations of the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics to you on the event of your accession to the British throne. Premier Zharkov has expressed his admiration of the manner in which the British people have achieved their independence, as the situation could have easily turned to bloodshed. It is through the exemplary actions of both yourself and the individuals of your new government that independence was achieved peacefully. The Union of Soviet Socialist Republics hereby declares our official recognition of your government as the sole legitimate authority of the British Isles, and we also declare our official recognition of the independence of the United Kingdom.

The Union of Soviet Socialist Republics would request an exchange of official diplomatic representation between our respective nations, with the establishment of permanent embassies in London and Kiev. As an officially recognised successor state to the nation formerly known as the "British Empire", the United Kingdom shall be regarded as an ally by the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics for the immediate future, meaning that we shall intervene to support the United Kingdom if they should come under attack from foreign nations. We do not ask the same of the United Kingdom as we recognise that there must be a transitional period in governance and authority; the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics shall step in to assist the United Kingdom if they should be attacked during this period. Once the period of transition is over, we shall welcome the opportunity to engage in negotiations with the United Kingdom on matters of mutual interest as the British people carve out their own place in the world once again.

The Union of Soviet Socialist Republics greatly looks forward to working with our friends in the United Kingdom to further the cause of order, security, and prosperity in Europe and around the world.

Yuri Vladimirovich Matveyev
Minister of Foreign Affairs

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[The Reborn British Empire]

The Right Honourable Alistair McDougall MP
Whitehall, London
Tuesday 13th June 2017, 0800hrs Local Time

Alistair McDougall, newly appointed Foreign Secretary and member of Her Majesty’s Privy Council, yawned into his coffee as he settled behind his new desk at the Foreign Office. The meeting with the Queen and the newly appointed Prime Minister, the Duke of Norfolk, had gone on quite late between discussing the situation, being appointed to the Privy Council, and the subsequent discussions that had followed between the various newly appointed Ministers of Her Majesty’s Government. The Duke had encouraged him to make use of grace-and-favour home traditionally provided to the Foreign Secretary at Carlton Gardens; it was obvious that they were all going to have to be up early the following morning and saving time by travelling to his actual home would be better used getting some sleep. His wife and children could be moved to Carlton Gardens in the coming days. After waking up still weary McDougall was glad that he had taken the Duke’s advice, god only knew how much more tired he would have felt if he had not followed his advice and gotten even less sleep. It wasn’t that he minded working long hours for Queen and Country, just that he wanted to ensure that he was productive and effective.

McDougall knew that his work, and that of his department, would be vitally important going forwards. The simple fact of the matter was that Britain was not the kind of power it once was on the world stage; for all that McDougall knew that the Queen and the Duke of Norfolk fully intended to change that, in the short to medium term it meant that relations with the rest of the world would be of paramount importance to allowing Britain to reclaim its rightful place. There would also be a significant part to play for soft power, which Britain had always been good at, and it would be the Foreign Office that was at the forefront of that effort. Soft power would have an important role to play, as would the hard power provided by Her Majesty’s Armed Forces, but just as important would be practical diplomacy that the Foreign Office did as it’s reason for existing. All told McDougall knew that his job over the coming months and years would be as challenging as it was rewarding, and was determined to prove the trust placed in him to be well-founded.

The first order of business was responding to the various messages of recognition from the major players on the world stage. The overnight staff had analysed the messages and written up briefing papers, but it fell to McDougall himself to author the responses which, of course, would speak with the full power and authority of Her Majesty’s Government. So far, they had received formal statements of recognition from ironic pairing the Soviet Union and the Realm of Cotland, who would be unlikely to appear in the same sentence together otherwise, as well as a number of smaller nation-states, particularly in Europe and the surrounding area, and of course the rump Dutch Empire. This was a good start; after all the Cottish and the Soviets were the most notable powers within the neighbourhood, and for good or ill would be vital to Britain’s national interests moving forwards. As much of the United Kingdom’s future prosperity would be based upon its relations with its neighbours, for good or ill, as on its own colonial possessions and ventures overseas, being so quickly recognized as independent of Dutch rule and having reclaimed their due national sovereignty was an achievement, to say the least.

Of course, the biggest disappointment had been the announcement by the Layartebian Minister for Foreign Relations that the Empire of Layarteb would not be recognizing Her Majesty’s Government apparently in solidarity with the Dutch Empire, despite the fact that the Dutch King had willingly, more or less, relinquished his claim to the British Throne in recognition of the will of the British People. Indeed, McDougall had already held a press conference in which he had stated his disappointment at the mood and, albeit in an ever-so-polite British fashion, proceeded to underline the logical fallacies in the Layartebian position, as well as their apparent disregard for self-determination and national sovereignty. It would be a difficult situation going forwards, and would cause all sorts of headaches across Whitehall. Of course, the Queen had been furious; she had already been displeased at what she saw as a breach of the promise made the Duke of Devonshire, then merely Sir George Collingwood, by the current Layartebian Emperor’s predecessor, the announcement by the Layartebian Minister had only made matters worse. If there was one piece of information the Layartebians would be able to find out about Elizabeth III from her time at Annapolis, it was her ability and willingness to hold a grudge.

Of course, such matters were for the future, right now McDougall had to handle more immediate matters.

McDougall turned his attention to the manila folder that contained not only the raw message received from the Soviet Union, but also a report from Colonel Joseph Chandler, the British Defence Attaché in Kiev on his meeting with the Soviet Marshal of the Armed Forces, as well as a general intelligence report compiled by the Secret Intelligence Service (SIS, or better known to the public as MI6). He already knew much of the information of course, but it never hurt to refresh one’s knowledge. The simple fact of the matter was that, with one member of the October Alliance refusing to even recognize them and the other holding territory that rightfully belonged to the British Crown, it would be with the Soviet Union that the United Kingdom would be likely to form its closest links going forwards. The United Kingdom and the Soviet Union might be very different ideologically, but their national interests were quite well aligned at this point, and from what the Duke of Norfolk had said, as far as he and Her Majesty were concerned as long as the Soviets did not try and push communism upon the British, they would have no issues.

This meant that advocating close friendship, trade links and co-operation was an essential goal of the Foreign Office going forwards.

McDougall leant forward and began to type. The missive would bounce around the Foreign Office for most of the morning, as it was double and triple checked before being sent.

The United Kingdom of Great Britain
Official Diplomatic Communique

TO: Minister of Foreign Affairs Yuri Vladimirovich Matveyev, Union of Soviet Socialist Republics

Sir,

Please allow me, on behalf of Her Majesty The Queen, to express our gratitude for both your best wishes and your recognition of Her Majesty’s accession to her rightful throne as a result of the wishes of the British people. After nearly two decades of terror and chaos in Britain the return of a Windsor to the throne marks the beginning of a new era, and it is comforting to have the well wishes of the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics so promptly rendered. It is unfortunate that not all the world’s great powers are so positive and forward-thinking when considering this development, however Her Majesty’s Government is most grateful to the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics for its friendship and support in this time of both success and new challenges.

The United Kingdom would be more than happy to exchange diplomatic missions, as Her Majesty’s Government is eager to foster close and prosperous ties with between the United Kingdom and the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics moving forwards. Her Majesty’s Government is also most grateful for the Union of Soviet Socialist Republic’s offer of support in the event that we come under attack from hostile powers, particularly given the developing foreign policy situation the United Kingdom is likely to find itself in going forwards. Her Majesty’s Government would also endeavour to come to the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics aid, to the best of our ability, should the need ever arise. Her Majesty’s Government would also welcome such discussions of mutual national interest as soon as the situation has fully stabilised.

I, and Her Majesty’s Government, also look forward to working closely with our friends in the USSR going forwards as we forge a brighter future for Europe and the world.

Yours Truly,

The Right Honourable Alistair McDougall MP
Secretary of State for Foreign Affairs

After being fully satisfied with the communique to the Soviet Union, McDougall turned his attention to the Realm of Cotland. This was the far more delicate and nuanced. There were many within the British Establishment, including the Queen herself, that felt that the Cottish Realm ought to be dealt with a degree of hostility; after all they were illegally occupying Scotland, against the wishes of most Scots (hardly surprising after the Cottish gassed one of their cities). Ultimately however the fact of the matter remained that the United Kingdom simply did not have the military strength to retake Scotland by force; as even if they would likely be able to force the Cottish units out of Scotland itself they would then have to pivot to face not only Cottish reinforcements from Scandinavia, but almost certainly from Layartebian Ireland as well. Opposing both the October Alliance powers so openly would be as difficult as it was dangerous, and to say that the United Kingdom was being placed in a damned difficult strategic situation would be classic British understatement. This of course meant that pursuing Scotland in a diplomatic manner was not only the most practical, but the only one that was really possible, as it would, hopefully, allow for at least cordial relations with one of the two powers that stood to potentially threaten Britain and its people.

As such it was fortunate that, for all her penchant for holding a grudge, the Queen was mature enough, not to mention fully aware of her responsibilities to her people, to have endorsed a diplomatic approach to the matter.

The United Kingdom of Great Britain
Official Diplomatic Communique

TO: Foreign Minister Helene Josefine Styrenstiert, Realm of Cotland

Madam,

Please allow me, on behalf of Her Majesty The Queen, to express our gratitude for both your best wishes and your recognition of Her Majesty’s accession to her rightful throne as a result of the wishes of the British people. After nearly two decades of terror and chaos in Britain, the return of a Windsor to the throne marks the beginning of a new era.

The United Kingdom would be more than happy to exchange diplomatic missions, as Her Majesty’s Government is eager to foster close relations with its neighbours on the continent, and would be pleased to host a Cottish diplomatic mission in London. As you say, there are many important topics that ought to be discussed between our respective governments.

Her Majesty also sends her personal greetings and warm wishes to King Sverre, as a fellow European monarch, whilst I, and Her Majesty’s Government look forward to working closely with the Realm of Cotland in the months and years to come.

Yours Truly,

The Right Honourable Alistair McDougall MP
Secretary of State for Foreign Affairs

[Layarteb]

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Monday, June 12, 2017 | 20:00 hrs [UTC-5]

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Layarteb City, New York | Fortress of Comhghall
40° 41' 28" N, 74° 0' 58" W

It had been a tremendously busy Monday, the kind not seen in quite some time but which had been brewing for the better part of the past seventeen days, ever since Elizabeth Windsor departed her safe haven in Annapolis to reclaim the "British throne" as it was called. Elizabeth had been given shelter in the Empire, much like King Sverre had, protecting the former from the genocidal tendencies of the Goodrule government and the latter from the deadliest plague to strike since the eradication of Smallpox. Sverre had always been heir to the throne and destroyed nothing in his return to power though Elizabeth had lost that with the unification of the Kingdom of Holland and the defunct Empire of Banjamos, a union that Layarteb City supported with utmost enthusiasm. The union removed one of the Empire's foes from the world, Banjamos, and elevated the status of the Kingdom of Holland. There were some problems associated with the union, specifically around Scotland and the animosity that both Oslo and The Hague felt towards one another, but the Empire had been confident that a peace settlement could be had on day.

Now everything had been tossed into the mix and the Empire did not need to be seen as the "destroyer" of King Richard's aspirations. On the contrary, the Empire had taken bold and unprecedented steps to support Prime Minister Soer and his government, rejecting the claims that Elizabeth Windsor claimed and offering no support whatsoever, even when the Goodrule enemy resurfaced after what could only be described as a hibernation. That threat climaxed with a bold move off of the Isles of Scilly, Layartebian-held territory. What had been a police operation, through the use of military assistance, had certainly been a blow for the Goodrule sleeper network activated by Elizabeth Windsor's return but it had not been without some aggravation from the Empire. The vessels never crossed into Layartebian waters and had they, there would be been little that the Empire could have truly done.

Defense of the Isles of Scilly came from forces deployed to Ireland and the only permanent, military presence on the archipelago was a coast guard contingent consisting of a pair of MH-60T Jay Hawks and their crews. These helicopters mainly conducted search and rescue operations for stranded boaters. The helicopters could be equipped with light machine guns but a pair of helicopters could do little against any determined, military unit. The local police force, small though armed, would have to act as the "army" defending the islands until marines or paratroopers could arrive. With a population of just 2,522 people spread across five of one hundred and forty-five islands and islets, the police force was naturally small at just sixteen officers, the majority of them on the largest island of St Mary's, where they were stationed in Hugh Town.

Beyond these two coast guard helicopters and the police force, there was little else defending the islands. Perhaps, it was assumed, that some of the locals would take to arms but there was no guarantee. The battle plan for the Isles of Scilly involved a combined arms operation against England and Wales first with the Isles of Scilly taken only when the threat was removed. The police action thus was a bit concerning for the Layartebians, especially when a naval frigate was involved. Fighters could be scrambled from Ireland to provide air cover but none of those alarm bells had been raised by the presence of the frigate, which was attributed to "renegade forces," as these groups were being referred to in official but private circles.

Then came Monday and the inevitable. Elizabeth Windsor had been escorted to Buckingham Palace in a most public affair where she entered only to find King Richard present. Whatever transpired inside was unknown but a much dejected King Richard emerged in the aftermath and declared that England, Wales, the Samoa's, and Mauritius would no longer be subject to rule by himself and the government of Soer. Other events had transpired at Buckingham Palace, all of which were of a pomp and circumstance almost designed - as the Layartebian saw it - to add insult to injury over the fracturing of what was the British Empire as formed by King Richard and the Soer government. What came rapidly thereafter was the official letter of recognition from the Cottish, which was not surprising. The Cottish would do anything to jab at the Dutch and this much had been discussed between the two countries in the lead up to this moment.

The Empire's position, which had not yet been made public, would certainly come with a blunt strike. The Cottish did not have an embassy with the Dutch, instead operating an interests section in the Layartebian embassy. The Empire intended to do the same with the new "British" government, operating an interests section through the Cottish embassy. The Empire had no intentions of recognizing Elizabeth Windsor's government. To only add to matters, the official statement would not be given by the Emperor but rather Minister Fisher of Foreign Affairs, who was presently at the Fortress of Comhghall and in the press briefing room. The crowd of reporters was not wall-to-wall, as it was in the case of some announcements, but there were few empty chairs. Protocol and decorum were to be followed, even though the Emperor was not speaking or addressing the pool.

"Ladies and gentlemen good evening and that you for being present and listening," Minister Fisher began as he stood behind the podium. "There has been considerable to-do in England and Wales today that have resulted in the fracturing of the British Empire as ruled by King Richard of Holland and Prime Minister Soer. The Empire has always looked towards that government as an ally and as a partner in global affairs. Together, our nations worked against Islamic terrorist in Afghanistan and Pakistan and we have forged a bond on mainland Europe where the Empire continues to vest its interests in the years following the collapse of one of our longtime allies, the Fourth Reich of North Germania.

"Peace and stability have been our focus in Europe and in the ever changing 'Etch A Sketch' of our geopolitical landscape, the Empire has never and will never opt to cast the stable into the realm of unstable. We stand with the government in The Hague and oppose the actions of Elizabeth Windsor and her cohorts. The fracturing of the British Empire may have given the people of England and Wales their own nation, but it will not give them everlasting peace and security.

"The Empire does not recognize this government and will not seek to establish diplomatic relations as a consequence. We play no role or part in the fracturing of the British Empire. Furthermore, we will accept no hostilities from this unrecognized state against any of the Empire's territories in Europe or the territories of its allies.

"Thank you and good night," he said, offering no chance to answer questions. None were posed as it has been established ahead of time that there would be no question time. It was 03:00 in London and surely, the Windsor government would awake to this news if they hadn't already seen it. How that would fare would be determined but it would do little for the Empire. The Goodrule Third Spanish States was utterly hostile to the Empire, the Empire of Banjamos was hostile to the Empire, and for a brief time the British Empire in all its glory, offered no hostilities. It was a blip on the radar and the Empire was fully prepared to resume the presence of a hostile entity in England and Wales. Little had been changed since the dissolution of the Empire of Banjamos and nothing need to be changed now that the status quo had returned.

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[Hi No Moto]

Ministry of Foreign Affairs of the Empire of Hi No Moto
Official Communiqué from the Minister of Foreign Affairs

To: Her Majesty, Queen Elizabeth of the United Kingdom of England & Wales

Your Highness,

It is my honour to express the great joy felt by all those who serve His Imperial Majesty’s Government in hearing the news of your ascension to the throne of England & Wales. It is our hope that the rightful return of a Windsor to the throne will serve as a new chapter in the history of the people of England & Wales who have been denied their rightful place in the world for too long.

It is also my honour to bestow full diplomatic recognition to your government's rule over England & Wales, and to also extend an invitation for your government to establish diplomatic relations between our two nations.

It is hoped that in the months that follow our two governments will be able to discuss many topics openly and warmly with one another and see eye to eye on global issues that may jointly concern us.

Shigefumi Mori
Minister of Foreign Affairs

[The Reborn British Empire]

The Right Honourable Alistair McDougall MP
Whitehall, London
Tuesday 13th June 2017, 01000hrs Local Time

McDougall gratefully accepted a cup of steaming hot earl grey tea from his secretary as he returned to his office, having just attended the morning intelligence brief, which had included an update on the planned incursion into the South Balkans Confederation. It was fully expected that the SBC Embassy would be contacting the Foreign Office at some point, as it was all but impossible for the Royal Navy Cruiser to approach and deploy its Marines ashore without attracting attention. This would only escalate once the Royal Navy launched its second option to secure Mauritius, the islands themselves were British Overseas Territories, but it was anticipated that some regional neighbours might have something to say. The overall message was that, after two decades of foreign domination, the British were back on the world stage, on their own and standing in their own right; not the subservient subjects of the Goodrule or the convenient frontmen of the Dutch, and that they would now be cowed or cautious on the world stage. Moreover, it was a clear signal that the British Government would pursue a foreign policy of its own choosing, and would do anything and everything to protect and support British interests above all else.

Of course, before the Foreign Office’s attention was taken up by the situation in the Balkans, which it undoubtabley would be, McDougall had to turn his attention to the message the Foreign Office had received from the Empire of Hi No Moto.

The Empire of Hi No Moto was a nation of great interest to the United Kingdom; especially given its presence on the Samoan Islands in the Pacific; supporting those colonies and the range of interests and activities they spawned, was of paramount of importance, especially given they were on the far side of the world. As such managing relations with the Empire of Hi No Moto was vital; if they could be courted as a friendly state it would be infinitely preferable to being hostile; although it had to be fundamentally clear that Britain would protect and defend its far flung colonies, otherwise it would lose all credibility on the world stage, which was something that could not be allowed to happen. McDougall had spent some time with other ministers formulating a comprehensive British Aid program to spread and expand Britain’s soft power to provide a firm foundation to the hard power it would seek to build in the months and years going forwards.

Leaning forward, McDougall began to draft his response.

The United Kingdom of Great Britain
Official Diplomatic Communique

TO: Foreign Minister Shigefumi Mori, Empire of Hi No Moto

Minister,

Please allow me, on behalf of Her Majesty The Queen, to express our gratitude for your recognition of Her Majesty’s accession to her rightful throne as a result of the wishes of the British people. After nearly two decades of terror and chaos in Britain, the return of a Windsor to the throne marks the beginning of a new era.

The United Kingdom is eager to form strong and mutually beneficial relations with its neighbours, both near and far, and given our presence and interests in the Pacific and Indian Oceans, friendly relations with the Empire of Hi No Moto is high on the list of priorities of Her Majesty’s Government.

There are indeed a range of global issues that are of joint concern, and we are eager to discuss such matters with one another in order to forge a positive future for both or nations on such matters.

Yours Truly,

The Right Honourable Alistair McDougall MP
Secretary of State for Foreign Affairs

Captain William Bennet RN
HMS York, Adriatic Sea
Tuesday 13th June 2017, 1200hrs Local Time

Captain William Bennet, Royal Navy, stood on the bridge of his ship, the Heavy Cruiser HMS York, as it cut through the Adriatic Sea as fast as her engines could carry her, steaming northwards for the staging point she had been ordered to some fourteen hours previously. York was the twelfth ship in the Exeter-Class of Heavy Cruiser, commissioned by the Banjamoni Government shortly after the end of the Goodrule Terror in part to both provide the Royal Navy with a large, powerful surface combatant whilst the Vanguard-Class Guided Missile Battleships were built, taking far longer due to their size, and to help boost the British economy and attract investment and skilled workers back to British shores. By all accounts it had been a stunning success, the British shipbuilding sector was back at a pace not seen for decades and the Exeter-Class Heavy Cruiser had proven as effective in operational service as it was beloved by its crews.

There had been many that had questioned the Exeter-Class during its production, and questioned whether the British shipyards could handle such an ambitious project whilst also constructing capital ships in other yards, but the shipbuilding programme, which the now-Duke of Devonshire had been a strong proponent since the end of the Goodrule Terror, had brought the nation back together again. The use of modular construction had allowed shipyards all over Britain to contribute to the project, not only allowing the shaken and disparate communities to come together for a common cause, and allowed the weight of the project to be spread all over the country. It was a testament to the importance of the programme to the British national psyche that it had been allowed to continue under the Dutch administration. The York, and ships like here, were symbols of the British spirit, perhaps even more so than even the carriers or the battleships; they were proof that no matter what the challenge, the British would overcome it, together.

Of course, the British were not above delivering retribution upon those that had wronged it over the last two decades; and the York had been dispatched to deliver just that retribution upon one such enemy of the British Empire. Specifically, they were about to put an end, one way or another, to the man who had killed their Queen.

It was true that the York, or some other British asset, could have delivered attacked from afar to annihilate the war criminal known as the Viper. However such a strike risked missing the most valuable target, even a direct hit might leave their foe alive by some fluke of fate; the only way to ensure such a strike killed their target for certain was to saturate the target area with enough cruise missiles to level a small town; and given that the Viper’s compound was only a few hundred yards away from a small town, this was an unacceptable risk. The British might want to bring the Viper to justice, but they were not prepared to potentially kill dozens, if not hundreds, in order to do so; that was not the sort of reputation that either the Queen or the Prime Minister wanted to foster for Britain on the world stage. Their new Britain might stand up for itself, and make liberal use of its military strength, but it would always do its level best to prevent avoidable civilian casualties. It was for that simple, yet fundamentally important, reason that Her Majesty’s Ship York was moving into a position where she could deliver her strike team ashore.

As a Heavy Cruiser, York was designed for long-range independent operations, meaning that she needed to have as many organic capabilities as was practical. One such organic capability was the platoon of Royal Marines, tasked with providing the Cruisers of the Royal Navy with a landing party far more potent than could be provided by armed sailors. It was that platoon that would tasked with conducting the snatch and grab mission.

Glancing down at his watch Bennet noted that it was approaching the time he had designated for the mission briefing and, checking in with the Officer of the Watch before heading below. By the time he arrived in the briefing room the rest of the senior staff were waiting for him; his Executive Officer, Commander Daniel Shephard, his Principle Warfare Officer, Lieutenant Commander Nathan Walsh, and the Royal Marine Detachment Commander, Captain Joshua Hall. Despite the detachment aboard York being troop sized, it was standard procedure for Royal Marine Detachments to be commanded by an officer a rank higher than would normally be the case; in this case a Captain rather than a Lieutenant; given that there could only be one Captain aboard a Queen’s Ship, Hall, a senior Captain in any case, received a courtesy promotion to Major for the duration.

“Good Afternoon, Gentlemen,” Bennet said crisply as he settled into his seat at the head of the table. “You all know our mission; we’re to put our RM Troop ashore and capture of kill the war criminal known as the Viper.”

Bennet paused as he handed out briefing packs.

“The Viper’s Compound is located here, deep in the Sharr Mountains of the South Balkans Confederation; an SIS Operative has been keeping tabs on the compound and, as of zero eight hundred hours this morning, the Viper is still present,” Bennet continued, gesturing to the report from SIS on the compound and its defences. “By all accounts the SBC Military tends to avoid the Sharr Mountains due to the presence of the Viper and his cohorts, indeed latest intelligence suggests that the SBC Army Regional Commander is paid off by the Viper.”

Bennet paused.

“As such, Defence Intelligence believes that it is unlikely that any SBC Military units will be in the area of operations for the duration of our action, however although small and heavily corrupt, what units the SBC Military does have do tend to be balanced, reasonably-equipped and reasonably led, and could cause some difficulty on the ground,” Bennet added. “However, we suspect that the only resistance we will face is from the forty to fifty hostiles within the compound, so Major Hall you and you men will be outnumbered but we’ll have the element of surprise on your side, as well as the York available to provide missile strikes if the need arises, which should even the odds.”

Major Hall nodded.

“Our best bet is to insert a few hours yomp from the target and lay up until dusk then attack under cover of darkness; we’ve got a troop’s worth of night-vision optics so we can take full advantage of that and the likely reduced guard, they won’t know what hit them,” Major Hall commented with confidence. “We will however want to have an extraction point closer to the target area, the last thing we want is to have to drag the Viper all the way to the insertion point, which will require us to fully clear the area, it won’t just be a snatch and grab.”

Bennet nodded.

“That’s doable; it’ll require us to loiter offshore for longer, but I’d rather take our chances at sea than take the risks of a ground assault during the day,” Bennet replied. “Very well, we’ll insert you a few hours before dusk and take it from there; but the sooner the better.”

Lt. Commander Walsh frowned and leant forward.

“Are we anticipating any problems with the SBC Military?”

“We ought to be able to fly our helicopter in under the SBC Radar, it’ll be nap of the earth but it’s doable, especially if we keep their attention focused on us, so I intend to move us close inshore,” Bennet replied. “Indeed, PWO I want you to sit down with the Navigator and find the best place along the coast to insert a helicopter under the radar without risking popping up… as for the SBC Navy…”

“Jane’s Fighting Ships reports that the SBC Navy operates four Roussen-Class Fast Attack Craft, of which only two are likely to be at sea at any given time; however we must assume that, both those fast attack craft will likely seek to intercept us if we sit near or within their territorial waters,” Commander Shephard noted, leaning back in his chair. “They’re heavily armed for their size, but they do not pose a threat to us, the SBC Air Force does operate a squadron of F-5E Tiger IIs, however they should not pose a threat to us either.”

“So, we can defeat anything they’re likely to throw at us,” Lt. Commander Walsh nodded. “Do we anticipate them to do so?”

“Defence Intelligence does not think so, although we suspect they’ll definitely respond to our presence and harass us, although it is possible that if our helicopter is caught within their territory that they may take action,” Bennet replied, gesturing to the socio-political analysis from Defence Intelligence. “As such, PWO, I want the ship on high alert for the duration, and given that we know the likely avenues and means of approach, I want our posture adjusted with that in mind.”

“Very well, Sir,” Lt. Commander Walsh nodded.

A few more details were ironed out before the meeting broke up for each of the officers to oversee their own preparations. Commander Shepard and Lt. Commander Walsh would ensure that the York herself was fully prepared for whatever might come her way, whilst Major Hall briefed his troops and oversaw the preparations for the assault.

Captain Bennet himself made his way to the Comms Room and relayed his operational plan to Permanent Joint Headquarters (PJHQ) at Northwood, Hertfordshire, where it was promptly approved by the Chief of Joint Operations, the senior officer responsible for planning and coordinating joint operations overseas. Strictly speaking, only Royal Navy assets would be taking part in this raid, but given the importance and given that it was not a routine operation, the RN Director of Operations at the Admiralty had referred the decision to PJHQ. After conferring with the Defence Intelligence staff at Northwood, the Chief of Joint Operations had authorised the plan. With their marching orders confirmed the York’s ship company had set about making their preparations with a gusto. Word had quickly spread about what was going on, and after quick conferring of publications such as Janes, it quickly became general knowledge that it was unlikely that the SBC Navy or Air Force would be able to pose much of a threat to the British Cruiser. Of course, the Officers and the Senior Rates had been quick to remind their more junior shipmates that they needed to maintain their standards and their concentration; even a weaker foe could sucker-punch an unaware or complacent ship.

All preparations were already well complete by the time, a few hours later, the general alarm began to sound through the ship.

“Hands to Action Stations, Hands to Action Stations, Hands to Action Stations; assume damage control state one condition Zulu, hands to action stations,” The Voice of the Officer of the Watch echoed through the ship as the general alarm continued to sound. “Air Warning Yellow, Surface Warning Yellow, Subsurface Warning Yellow… hands to flying stations, hands to flying stations.”

As the Officer of the Watch’s pipe finished Bennet was settling into his seat in the Operations Centre, nestled deep in the hull of the York, quickly setting up his displays as he preferred. Around him his warfare staff were bringing him up to speed on the situation; two SBC Fast Attack Craft had been lit up by York’s radar for over an hour now, and as the ship had turned towards the Balkans Coast a flight of four F-5E Tiger II fighters had detected by the SAMPSON radar. It was obvious that the SBC Military was not simply allowing the British Cruiser to loiter near its territory unmolested, even if it seemed unlikely they’d directly intervene. Never the less Bennet quickly directed his warfare staff to develop firing solutions for all targets; both fast attack craft were targeted with anti-surface missiles, even if it might be somewhat overkill, whilst each of the F-5Es were assigned Aster 30 missiles from

Of course that might change if they detected the Merlin launching from the stern of the York.

Captain Joshua Hall RM
Sharr Mountains, South Balkans Confederation
Wednesday 14th June 2017, 0100hrs Local Time

Over twelve hours after inserting into the South Balkans Confederation, the Merlin getting safely in and out without incident, the Royal Marine’s detachment was arrayed along a treeline close to the Viper’s compound in complete darkness, observing the compound and its defences via their night vision optics. By the time, it was the early hours of Wednesday morning, Hall was satisfied that he had a decent idea of what he was facing and together with is Troop Sergeant had formulated an attack plan. It would rely upon stealth and the element of surprise, but the Royal Marines were not Commandos for nothing; they were experts at this sort of thing and Hall had every confidence in his men. It was an audacious raid, as it had been from the start; they were certainly outnumbered and if the weapon emplaced along the perimeter of the compounds were any indicator they were definitely outgunned as well. But then the annals of the Royal Marines were full of such exploits and the Corps had an enviable reputation at home and overseas for professionalism and fighting ability. If there was any unit in Her Majesty’s Armed Forces capable of pulling off such an attack, it was a detachment of Royal Marines.

The first order of the day was to eliminate a picket of sentries stationed maybe a hundred yards from the main compound; clearly intended to give the defenders some advance warning of an attack in order to give them time to prepare their defences. Captain Hall nodded to his Troop Sergeant and watched as half the troop began the painstaking task of crawling the five hundred of so yards from the treeline to the sentries. There was no rushing a stealthy approach like this; each of the Royal Marine had to remain absolutely quiet; in darkness such as this even the slightest noise was often as obvious as the brightest light. In a carefully co-ordinated manner, using only the breaking of squelch on their personal role radios (PRRs) the Royals moved into position in very close proximity to each of the sentries then, in a flurry of violence, quickly and quietly disarmed and incapacitated all of the sentries along this part of the perimeter. Hall and his Marines remained utterly silent as the controlled violence died down, waiting to see if anyone in the compound had seen what had just happened; but there was no activity from the compound. Now that they had taken down hostile fighters, however, time was of the essence; it would only be a matter of time before the sentries missed a radio check, and that would give the game away.

The Royal Marines who had remained in overwatch now moved quickly forward, the first wave hunkering down and putting the compound under their guns. The second wave now bounded forwards and quickly but quietly made their way around the rest of the perimeter, mopping up the remaining sentries without issue. Soon enough the compound was effectively surrounded by Royal Marines; a calculated risk on Hall’s part as it risked a concentrated enemy force being able to pick apart his attack piecemeal, but intended to compel the enemy to split their forces to repel an attack on multiple sides. Once all the sections of the troop were in position Hall gave the order and the detachment began its attack.

The silence of the night was ripped apart as several dozen L85A2 assault rifles, L110A1 light machine guns and several other special weapons, opened fire; laying down a withering barrage of fire upon the compound. The inner sentries manning the entrance points and watch towers were quickly gunned down as the Royal Marines conducted a bounding overwatch assault; ensuring that at any given time at least half the troop was putting fire down upon the enemy. This allowed the rest of the troop to advance pretty much unmolested as the enemy was clearly keeping their heads down. Of course, in many respects the initial advance was the easy bit; once they got into the compound they would be on the enemy’s turf and would be at a disadvantage; once inside the compound the would have to fall back upon their building-clearing drills and take a slow, methodical and efficient approach; one that they had trained for over countless hours back in Britain.

It was not until the Royal Marines began to storm the compound that they suffered their first casualty.

Hall winced as he saw one of his Marines go down in a hail of fire, and watched unable to help any further as two of his fellows grabbed him by his webbing and pulled him into cover. It was a slow, painstaking process as the troop spread throughout the compounding clearing each building fully before moving onto the next. Hall remained with his Troop Sergeant, the Troop Medic and the wounded Marin, observing the detachment complete the sweep; watching in dismay as two more Marines were brought over injured whilst the body of a fourth joined them shortly afterwards; the Royal Marines had a tradition of bringing all their number, dead or alive, home. As the sounds of fighting began to die down Hall sighed and glanced down at his four dead or injured Marines; he knew that all things considered four casualties was a good outcome for such an unbalanced assault; it could have been far worse. He knew that it was the training and professionalism of his Marines that had shone through.

It was only a few more minutes before a section of Royal Marines brought over a struggling man in combat gear, forcing him to his knees in front of Captain Hall. It didn’t take more than a moment for Hall to recognize the man as none other than the Viper; he looked worse for wear, clearly, the Marines who had captured him had been none too gentle, and he had obviously put up something of a fight. For a few moment, Hall considered simply executing the man; after everything this bastard had done to Britain it would be everything he deserved, and he was likely to receive the death penalty in the end anyway, and he knew none of his Marines would ever say anything. Ultimately, however, he holstered his general service pistol and looked down at the man in utter contempt.

“Under the Special Measures Act of 2011, I am detaining you, on behalf of Her Majesty’s Government.”