His Majesty The King
Highever Palace, Highever
Duchy of Starminster, Kingdom of Arcadia
The new King of Arcadia returned to the capital under a literal cloud as dark as the cloud of grief that hung over him. Rain fell upon the ancient city, giving the entire place a sullen look as the King’s Motorcade made its way from the Great Gate at the southern-most extreme of the wide circular city walls to Highever Palace. The Kingsway ran directly from the Great Gate up the only gently sloping side of the hill at the centre of Highever, the capital of the Kingdom of Arcadia, to the very doors of the palace. Highever had, a very long time ago, been a formidable fortress; first a simple hill fort and later a fully-fledged castle, however over the centuries the castle town had grown into a vast, bustling city. The Palace’s heritage as Castle Highever could still be seen in the central building, which although renovated, still battlements and other hints towards a past that had seen the citadel besieged on more than one occasion, however it had never been taken by storm. The great iron gates were opened by Royal Guardsmen and the motorcade swept onto the forecourt of the Palace as onlookers watched in numb silence.
Alexander Thomas William, or King Alexander II as he was now known, stepped out of the Royal limousine and looked up at the imposing yet graceful architecture of Highever Palace. He had seen this building many times of course, and yet this was the first time he looked upon it as King, and the first time that he noticed that, being raised upon a flagpole upon the Palace’s highest tower, the King’s Tower, was the Royal Standard. And yet, although it looked similar to the Royal Standard that had flown over buildings when his father had visited them it was undeniably different; for there was a new King in Arcadia. Alexander sighed heavily but slowly, and with deliberate movements, settled his peaked cap onto his head, for he had been pulled straight from his ship by the Admiralty as soon as his parent’s assassination had been confirmed and he had barely had time to pull his uniform greatcoat on over his No.1C service uniform before he had been hurried into a Lynx and flown ashore. Had he been in a more jovial mood he would have found it amusing that the public would see him in such a ‘simple’ uniform, for, as a member of the Royal Family, he was far more often seen in far more elaborate frock coat, epaulettes and cocked hat of any of the Royal Arcadian Navy’s three orders of ceremonial dress.
The King turned his attention to the small crowd of people at the top of the steps leading into the Palace. At their head was his Uncle Thomas, known to the public as His Royal Highness The Duke of Windamere, and his Uncle William, known to the public as His Royal Highness The Duke of Wintershold, the two oldest members of the Royal Family now that their brother was gone. Both were career military officers, and much like the young King had been pulled from their assignments, temporarily at least for them, for both security considerations and to greet their nephew; as a result the Duke of Windamere wore the Army’s equivalent to Alexander’s uniform whilst the Duke of Wintershold wore the Air Force’s. Beside the two older men were two younger women; his sisters. The elder of the two, dressed in black civilian mourning clothes, was HRH The Princess Elizabeth. The younger woman, still a girl really, was his nineteen year old ‘baby’ sister, HRH The Princess Jessica, who would have looked, tears streaming down her face, like she was playing dress-up in her father’s naval uniform, had Alexander not seen her in happier times looking very and smart and proper in the ceremonial dress uniform of the Royal Arcadian Navy on her passing-out parade from the Royal Arcadian Naval Academy.
The King’s two sisters stepped down towards him and he embraced them both fiercely; the image of the young King comforting his sisters was caught by news cameras outside the fence and would soon become iconic.
After a few moments Alexander gave his two sisters a squeeze and released them, stepping past them to clasp arms with each of his uncles in turn. He could see the grief in their eyes, but he could also see from their expressions that they were keeping control of it; for him if nothing else. They made have lost their brother, and indeed even his sisters might have lost their father, but the weight of the word was squarely upon Alexander’s shoulders and his alone. He was the one that was gong to have to take up the Crown from his father.
“The Lord Constable is here,” The Duke of Windamere said in his baritone rumble, then added. “Your Majesty.”
Alexander nodded jerkily as he stepped past his family and into the Palace. The Lord Constable was the head of the Royal Arcadian Constabulary, the national law enforcement agency of the Kingdom, which was responsible for policing not handled by a municipal or regional constabulary, and the custodian of various national policing capabilities. As a result, the Lord Constable was also the senior police officer in the Kingdom, was the lead law enforcement advisor to the Crown and Government, and held authority over those national policing capabilities. One of those responsibilities was the protection of the Royal Family… a role that the RAC had singularly failed in.
The King found the Lord Constable, William Fitzpatrick, a career police officer who had been raised to the peerage in recognition of his ascent to the pinnacle of his profession as Baron Fitzpatrick, in the Red Drawing Room. The Lord Constable, dressed in the formal uniform of the RAC, bowed formally as his new King entered the room.
“Your Majesty,” Lord Fitzpatrick said stiffly. “You have my condolences for your loss.”
“Your condolences, Sir!” Alexander snapped. “It was on your watch that it happened, and you offer my condolences!”
Fitzpatrick flinched at the vehemence in the young King’s tone, and because he knew that he was right; the Highever Police had failed in their duty to protect their King and Queen from those that would wish them harm. It was the first failing in the history of the HPS protecting members of the Royal Family or the Government, but there could literally have been no worse failing than losing their King and Queen.
Alexander scowled then shook his head.
“Alright Lord Constable, I have only two questions,” He said, more calmly. “What happened and who was behind it?”
“The Royal Motorcade was travelling down Highway 6, returning from a commissioning ceremony at the Stormholme Naval Base, when they were attacked by well-armed, well-organised assailants,” Lord Fitzpatrick replied uncomfortably, Alexander remembered numbly that Fitzpatrick had likely lost dozens of officers. “The lead vehicle was taken out by some form of rocket propelled grenade, this caused the second vehicle to crash straight into the back of it, with the rest of the motorcade doing the same to various degrees.”
“My god,” Alexander breathed. “There was no warning?”
“None, one moment they were doing just fine and the next they were in a multi-car pile up and being attacked from all sides by automatic gunfire… my people tried to secure a perimeter, but there were too many, and the motorcade was already in a shambles,” Lord Fitzpatrick sighed. “We’re not sure what had happened after that, as there were no survivors, but it does not appear that there was an attempt to take the King and Queen alive, as they were found near their ruined limousine, both had been shot execution-style.”
“My god,” Alexander repeated as he sank onto a seat.
Alexander’s mind raced as he considered the implications of what Lord Fitzpatrick had just said. Such a deliberate murder of his parents, in such force and with such obvious planning, not to mention clearly compromised security around the movements of the two senior members of the Royal Family, had the awful stench of treason. At the very least it was obvious that someone within Lord Fitzpatrick’s ranks was a traitor, or had been compromised by those that wanted the King and Queen dead, not to mention other moles in various other government bodies or law enforcement agencies. To have the resources to accomplish something like this, however, meant either a foreign state-sponsored attack, or a very wealthy, very well-connected individual, or group of individuals, within the Kingdom itself. There was no other explanation; the security around the King of Arcadia was as tight as any other head of state, with the sheer scale of the attack itself a testament to that… this was high treason, and murder most foul.
“Who did this?” The King asked eventually.
“We don’t know for sure, the sheer size and scale of the attack limits the potential suspects significantly, and we can’t rule out a state-actor, however there also individuals, or certainly groups of individuals, who could finance sufficient mercenaries and arms to carry out a similar attack, if they really wanted to,” Lord Fitzpatrick shook his head grimly. “However, although we were significantly outnumbered and outgunned, to be able to pull off the attack also required a significant amount of inside information, suggesting a breath at a very high level… this also helps decrease the suspect pool, however we don’t have any firm leads, much less evidence.”
Lord Fitzpatrick paused and hesitated.
“If I may speak freely, Your Majesty?”
“Always,” Alexander nodded. “Especially when it regards national security.”
“His Late Majesty had made no secret of his intention to act to reclaim much of the authority that had been granted to Parliament, in order to combat the corruption that is rampant within the legislature, even if I’ve not been able to prove it with the lack of access that Acts of Parliament enforced upon the RAC,” Lord Fitzpatrick replied bluntly. “Now, I have no evidence for this whatsoever, this is just my gut feeling, but if there is one group of people that would stand to lose the most if your father had achieved his goals it would be the corrupt politicians and their corporate paymasters… and those same backers would have the funds, and the contacts needed too.”
Alexander leant back in his chair and considered what the Lord Constable had just said. Although it was true that he had absolutely no evidence, the theory certainly made sense and, truth be told, Alexander knew that there was very little motivation for anyone else to have launched such a brutal and callous attack on his parents, beloved as they had been with the common people. Moreover, if the wrong people were compromised that would explain the intelligence and security leaks as well.
“Let’s say you’re right… and if I’m being honest I believe you are,” Alexander said slowly. “How do we prove it?”
“Get me funding and give me the authority to investigate the people we need to investigate and I’ll handle that,” Lord Fitzpatrick said simply. “Most of these people have survived simply because we’ve not had the authority to investigate Members of Parliament, remove that protection and we’ll have success.”
“Consider it done, although this will kick off one hell of a constitutional crisis, but I don’t think we have any choice at this point,” Alexander said decisively. “And I’ll make sure you get the funding, even if it has to come from the Privy Purse, this ends, now.”
“As you command, Your Majesty,” Lord Fitzpatrick said formally. “The Royal Arcadian Constabulary is with you, Sire.”
Alexander smiled ruefully.
“Don’t make it sound like a civil war just yet,” Alexander commented dryly.
“Just wanted you to know where we stand, Sire.”
Alexander shook his head wryly.
“That being said, find the Lord High Marshal, and tell him, personally and discretely, that I would like a word…”
Field Marshal The Lord Hammond
Highever Palace, Highever
Duchy of Starminster, Kingdom of Arcadia
The Lord High Marshal, Field Marshal Andrew Hammond, Lord Hammond, strode from the staff car which had ferried him from the Ministry of Defence and up the steps into Highever Palace, adorned in the distinctive blood red No.1A dress uniforms of the Royal Army, only one step down from the Full Ceremonial Dress that was worn on state occasions. Lord Hammond, as the Lord High Marshal, was a career military officer and was the professional head of the Royal Arcadian Military (the title became Lord High Admiral, if held by a naval officer), and exercised full command and control over the military in the name of the Crown. Although Parliament had asserted its own authority over the RAM, principally through control of the military budget and thereby had effectively been delegated control over the Military by the Crown, legally speaking the RAM answered to the King. It was, Lord Hammond suspected, this legal technically that had prompted his summons to Highever Palace; after all, it was not the norm of the Lord Constable, another Great Officer of State (and thereby a Royal servant) to discretely pass on messages from the Monarch.
At least it would be an interesting audience, to say the least!
Lord Hammond was met before the Great Stairs by two footmen, who respectfully greeted him and escorted him through the Palace until they reached the Red Drawing Room where he found the King. He bowed deeply, not wearing his peaked cap due to being inside otherwise he would have saluted, and waited for his Monarch to acknowledge him and permit him to rise, which the younger man did with a hint of unease. This was understandable, although he had been the Crown Prince, his King had also been a naval officer of significantly lower rank than Lord Hammond, so the sudden change was likely unsettling to the younger man.
“You summoned me, Your Majesty?”
“I did, my lord,” The King nodded. “Please, have a seat.”
Lord Hammond did as distracted and settled into a seat as directed.
“I had an interesting discussion with the Lord Constable about an hour ago; he was briefing me on the attack… on the attack that killed my parents, and he was of the opinion that such an attack would only be possible by a well-funded, well-connected group,” The King explained. “The Lord Constable was also of the opinion that the most likely group behind the attack, is a conspiracy of corrupt politicians and corporate leadership, who stood to lose the most if my father was able to reassert Royal authority… or if I do so.”
The King paused and leant back in his chair, after a few moments it was obvious the younger man was inviting Lord Hammond’s thoughts on what he had said.
“Not an unreasonable assessment, given the circumstances, Sire,” Lord Hammond commented quietly. “It stinks to high heaven.”
“I’m glad you agree; I’ve been thinking about this for the last hour and, truth be told, I can’t think of anyone else that would want to kill my parents in such a callous way, not to mention to expend such effort, in both blood and treasure to pull it off,” The King shook his head grimly. “You should know that I have ordered the Lord Constable to investigate this matter to the full extent of the law, and that I am rescinding Parliamentary protection for individual Members of Parliament, and that I will personally fund the investigation if Parliament tries to shut it down.”
Lord Hammond leant back in his chair, taken aback to say the least.
“Your Majesty…”
“Speak freely, my Lord,” The King said evenly.
“What you are proposing would be in violation of numerous Acts of Parliament,” Lord Hammond commented with a slight frown as he considered his King. “Not to mention cause constitutional upheaval and be borderline illegal, depending on your interpretation of the law.”
“What you say is true, my Lord, although the powers that were granted to Parliament were done with the consent of the Crown, and according to the written letter of the laws, that power still stems from the Monarch to Parliament, rather than being innately theirs,” The King argued firmly. “Indeed, it was the fact that the King of the day, my great grandfather, was so on-board with democratic ideals that allowed it to happen so quickly, rather than legislate the authority of Parliament was granted by Royal Decree, which can be revoked.”
Lord Hammond opened his mouth to reply, but was stopped by a raised hand from his King.
“Don’t get me wrong, my Lord, I have no intentions of ruling as a despot; but the current situation can no longer be allowed to continue; how often do you and your people struggle with old equipment or unnecessary support contracts, due fatten the pockets of corporations and their pocket MPs?” The King continued, his passion evident in his voice. “I will bring about a system in which there are restraints upon my power as much as upon those elected members; but the Crown will ensure oversight in the elected process, and I will ensure that we have the final say in what happens… the Crown and the Commons; checks and balances, for the Realm…”
“You are asking me to support a Coup, Sire.”
“I am asking you to honour your oath of allegiance to the Crown… and to the Realm… you know that enough is enough, my father died for this fight, just for taking a stand, we cannot allow his sacrifice to go unanswered or to be in vain,” The King said firmly, standing and walking to the window. “Look, I know that we have popular support for what I am proposing; the commoners are as fed up as anyone about the corruption, thanks to social media exposing their bullshit, and the Lords have been chafing against this for decades.”
The King paused again.
“This is not a situation that ends in military confrontation; either you support me and we change the way things are run, or you don’t and I am deposed and the monarchy abolished,” He continued simply. “We’re not talking about a civil war here, but you are the lynchpin and I literally can’t do it without you, which is why I need to make sure you’re on board so that we can even start.”
Lord Hammond did not speak for a few moments as he considered his position and knew that his next words would be all important to what happened. He knew that the King was right; that it would be military support that would determine the outcome, without military support there would be no way for those under investigation to try and oppose the Royal re-assumption of executive power, if the RAC was already supporting the King.
“I won’t but troops on the street, Sire,” Lord Hammond said firmly.
“You won’t need to; without RAM or RAC support, Parliament has no means to stop what I intend to do; and they don’t have the kind of support needed to bring riotous crowds out in their defence, like I said, this is not a situation that ends with blood on the streets,” The King nodded. “However, this Kingdom has been in decline for many years at the hands of corrupt politicians, but my family has a certain appeal to people both low and high, where I lead, the people will follow… will you follow me too, Field Marshal?”
“How would this happen?” Lord Hammond frowned.
“The Royal Arcadian Constabulary has a great number of suspects of corruption, both in the political sphere and in the corporate world, but what they are decisively lacking in his hard proof of any wrong doing to pin these bastards to the wall,” The King replied promptly. “On my orders, the RAC will conduct a wave of raids tomorrow morning, targeting corrupt politicians and corporate headquarters… if we find the evidence we need, then we’ll proceed, if not… well, we best find what we need, so I won’t ask you to declare yourself until after the raids.”
The King paused and looked Lord Hammond squarely in the eye.
“So are you with me, my Lord?”
“Of course, Sire,” Lord Hammond said decisively. “God Save the King.”
“God save all of us, my friend.”