Author Notes:
Kehum! Welcome back to another RM chapter! And yeah, it takes me some time to output this lol (The newest chapter on Patreon is like a 2-for-1, more than 4k words!)
Anyway, as per new development... Best regards and thank you to Sergeant VioletSnows who is a new supporter of the little community we're having here!
And guess, what, another author is asking for me to do a shoutout swap with them! I don't have any clue whatsoever on how to do this or what's to be expected after the shoutout swap, but hey, it's my first time doing this, so here goes nothing!
The fiction is called Tales of the Three Kingdoms on Royal Road, written by JohnLake. You can check it out here and enjoy this ancient journey for yourself! https://www.royalroad.com/fiction/108370/tales-of-the-three-kingdoms-silver-falcon-falls
Peace, and happy reading, both here and there!
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"This is an absolute disgrace...!" King George the Sixth says, nearly snarling, as he burns the propaganda leaflet in his hand over a lighter. The particular leaflet is but one of the numerous propaganda materials being dropped throughout the Kingdom of Erusea.
Flinging away the burning piece of paper so that the servants can clean it up before it can cause a fire, King George VI turns to look at the assembled cabinet of ministers and nobles with a look that is both tired and vexed.
"All this time we spent investing, modernizing, rebuilding... All for what?" The King of Erusea rests his gaze on the Prime Minister of his nation for a tad longer than most, causing the increasingly potty man's poker face to crack somewhat. Clearly, even Churchill himself knows just how deep in shit Erusea is, and there ain't no way he can shymy himself out of this one.
Fortunately for the fat Prime Minister, the King moves his gaze elsewhere, opting to stew in his rage and helplessness by gazing vacantly at something above.
"Millions of Pounds, hundreds of thousands of soldiers, the entirety of our Air Force, and, just recently, what's left of our Royal Navy..." King George VI says breathlessly, his words cut deep into the nerves of those like Churchill and Dudley Pound. "All of them are gone, wasted against a foe that we had wrongfully underestimated for years."
King George VI sighs forlornly. "We'll never recover from this, financially or otherwise..."
The silence that ensues after the King's heartbroken statement is deafening. Once, everyone in this room had been full of expectation about a glorious victory for the Erusean Kingdom, one that would catapult them into the top spot of the European totem of power, perhaps even the rest of the world. Yet, reality unravels their fantasy; what comes out of this war isn't a cakewalk, but a grueling slog that has Erusea being torn apart by a mighty dragon. They ain't a knight in shining armor that will slay the dragon; rather, they're the very sacrifice that is used to appease it. Only, they realize it far too late.
King George VI is pulled from the downward spiral his mind is taking him by a touch from his Queen. With some effort, the King of Erusea asks the question of the day, no matter how it tastes like ashes on his tongue.
"Since none of you dare to voice this question, then let me say it... What should we do now? In what capacity does Erusea still have to weather this unprecedented storm?"
The ministers, nobles, and a few representatives of the people share a look at one another, each one encouraging the others to bite the bullet first. As the King's patience is wearing thin, even with the coaxing from his Queen, the Minister of Finance steps onto the carpet beneath the throne and makes a very respectful suggestion.
"Your Royal Highness, our industry, our economy, our people... They're crumbling, breaking down with each passing minute." He kneels, head bowed. "I beseech you, my King, to seriously consider ending this war through a parlay!"
As the words, loudly and clearly voiced, sink in, a commotion bursts out as the hardliners, the most stubborn of King George VI's cabinet, condemn the Minister of Finance.
"Dickerson, you dickhead! Have you no shame?!"
"Coward! To dare make such a spineless suggestion in front of the King!"
"To think the King entrusted the position of Minister of Finance to you... Clearly, he has expected too much from such a weak-willed civilian!"
As the jeers and derisions shower the Minister of Finance, he bears it with grim acceptance. Time will mark him as the greatest coward in modern Erusean history, yet, out of loyalty and his love for the people of this nation, he must leap into the fire first. The King needs someone to voice this deplorable option, a scapegoat to bear the notoriety, so that he can consider it. Even now, as things come crashing down, the political image of the King needs to be maintained. If not for the people of Erusea, then for the geopolitical stage. It's a stretch, but when the time arises to negotiate with the Belkans, the King can present himself a bit better, as he is not the first 'coward'.
But then Churchill's annoyed tone interjects, coming with it the most crippling truth.
"Have you lost your mind after only a few setbacks, Dickerson!? Didn't you read their pamphlets!? Hasn't it registered in your head that the Belkans fully intend to force us into an unconditional surrender and will only accept that singular, most grim outcome!? We will be losing our ideals, our nationality, our livelihood to the dogs on the other side of the ocean!" Churchill nearly crushes his cigar, his voice emboldens the hardliners and his closest allies even more into cursing the Minister of Finance for harboring a treasonous mindset.
It's getting to the point that even the Minister of Finance and the doves in the cabinet are losing their grip on their patience, that the King's furious voice shakes the chamber.
"You all speak such bold, crude words in this most noble chamber! Take a look back at yourselves and see the very fools who have brought us into this mess in the first place! If the Belkans are dogs, then what would that make us, losing to a bunch of dogs, huh!?"
King George VI then glared at Churchill, not even bothering to hide his utter displeasure and even spite.
"Right now, Erusea is at her darkest time. Our sovereignty is under siege, yet we have no military or any ally that can bail us out, not after the repeated losses they have suffered alongside us. Our citizens, the very lifeblood of our nation, are taxed and burdened to the extreme. Young men sent to die or to be imprisoned for a cause that I have come to realize is a folly, a dream so impossible to accomplish that it makes Icarus' wish to touch the sun more than probably to fulfill. I am not asking you to contribute a way to resolve the situation; I am ordering you to. If you don't have any sane, reasonable thing to say, then keep your mouth shut; otherwise, I will have the King's Guards do it for you."
The look on King George VI's eyes is so murderous that, if any of them dared to contradict his decree, they would immediately lose their job at best. Yet, before the discussion can continue, one of the King's Guards actually barges into the throne chamber, carrying with him the most urgent of news.
"My King! I come bearing grave news!" The Guard kneels deferentially; however, it's easy to say that the man has been running with haste for some time.
"Speak your news, Guardsman." King George VI frowns, not because he is displeased by the sudden intrusion, but because of the mention of bad news.
"At once!" The Guard bows before reporting loudly. "The Count of Farbanti has raised a band of protesting civilians outside the city's gate! They're mostly the wives and widows of the soldiers we lost in the war, but the numbers are overwhelming, and there are unconfirmed reports of armed militia hiding among them! The capital's garrison and police are already deployed to contain the situation, but the issue is escalating as we speak, my King! I beseech you to undertake certain precautions!"
"They're civilians, what are they clamoring for?" King George VI leans in, asking seriously.
"My King, the Count of Farbanti is the nominated leader of the protesters. They're voicing their grievances, demanding their husbands and sons back, a stop to this war and its wartime taxes, and that due compensation be made to those suffering by the war." The Guard reports. "My King, more and more civilians are amassing on both sides of the city's gate. The atmosphere is volatile, and one wrong step can mean a blood bath. What's left of my family is living near the gate... Please, my King, you must defuse the situation!"
The Guard bows deeply, his voice cracking at the end as his familial love overwhelms his decorum and loyalty for but the briefest of moments. It is a sobering thing to hear, coming from a usually detached King's Guard. Once again, reality hits the King of Erusea in the face. In a very low tone that only he and his Queen can hear, King George VI says.
"How foolish I was to subject my nation to generations of dishonor and pain." The King's voice is laced with self-reproach as he comes to see the bitter fruits of his collaboration with Churchill's hardliners. "I had many chances to put a stop to this trainwreck, and now there's none left."
Right now, there are only two paths for the Kingdom of Erusea: directly waving the white flag or stubbornly resisting till the very end. Either way, the Erusean Crown will no doubt face its twilight. At this point, even running away is next to impossible with how radio communication is disrupted, and the sea is teeming with unknown danger in the form of the Reichsmarine. In an ironic twist, Erusea is subjected to a total naval blockade, and there's a looming threat that the Kingdom will experience food and material shortages in the near future. The common populace just doesn't know the full picture, yet.
Sighing, King George VI says.
"With a protest in London, we can't do anything else but appease the people. Deploy the King's Guards." King George VI stands up, addressing the cabinet. "And prepare an open-air venue. The Queen and I will need an escort so that we can host a civil discussion with the Count of Farbanti. The man deserves that much respect after he lost his entire city, and now, the status of his last son is unknown in mainland Europe."
"This is unwise, my King! An open-air venue at this time will invite-!" Churchill, who has been silent after the King's admonition, is unable to hold it in anymore.
"Invite what, assassins?!" King George VI nearly shouts. "We are at the point where assassins are the last thing we should fear! The whole bloody nation is capsizing, and you're telling me that the Royal family should fear for our lives? If we don't stabilize the people, then when it's time for the Belkans to make good on their promise to invade our soil, we will be the first to die because there's no one else to fight on our steads, you fat fool! Better yet, it can be the people who will be our executioners! Now, heed my decree at once!"
"Yes, my King!" The King's Guard from before stands up, bows, and makes haste to organize the escorts.
Seeing that the King has made up his mind, the cabinet has a very divided opinion. The doves and the neutral parties are the most relieved that a more morally acceptable action is to be taken in regard to dealing with the civilian protesters, even if they're possibly armed. They are, in the end, still Erusean citizens, heartbroken ladies of their nation. The hardliners, however, seem unable to stomach the decision. After all, one of the more probable outcomes to emerge from this upcoming discussion is the King being a proponent for choosing an unconditional surrender. Something that will no doubt result in the hardliners, Churchill included, being put on the chopping block for being an active promoter of this bloody war in the first place. When the war ended in Erusea's surrender, the Belkans didn't even need to do anything, as the Erusean people would string up these hardliners on the wall themselves. It doesn't need to be said that this will be an unacceptable outcome for Churchill and his cohort.
King George VI, as he steps past Churchill, stops in a moment of inspiration before addressing a nearby unit of his personal security detail. "Per my decree, confine Churchill and his friend to suitable quarters, constitution be damn!"
Churchill drops his cigar as armed guards come to escort him and the other hardliners to a secure location. "W-Wait! My King! This is a mistake! A mistake!"
"My sole mistake is being blind to your manipulation! You are not an ally to the Erusean Crown, but the maggot that infested it! And I was a foolish King to trust your rotting vision of the future! Come what may, this kingdom does not require your service!"
With a huff and a hand guiding his Queen, King George VI and the rest of the cabinet leave the throne room as Churchill and the hardliners are sent into confinement. Clearly, the King is afraid that some of them will pick the foolish option by sabotaging the discussion with Count Farbanti. Any sloppy act like that will no doubt result in the endangerment of London's citizens and even the Royal family itself. Worst case scenario, the matter can devolve into a bloody martial law, or even a civil war, even before the Belkans can get here. To avoid such a distasteful future, King George VI must act in full transparency, hence the open-air venue. At the very least, if he can't lead Erusea to promise greatness, the King must distance the Royal family from the karmic rebound, putting all of them on Churchill and the hardliners' heads. It will be a tall order, considering how many of his signatures and seals were there on the orders that permitted this unprecedented disaster of a war, but trying to do something is still better than doing nothing.
Turning to his aide, King George VI says. "Get me MI5's Chief, I need a refresher on what to expect from someone like the Count of Farbanti."
While Military Intelligence, Section 5, hasn't been the most effective in countering Belkan spies, they are still somewhat in working order when compared to the likes of Military Intelligence, Section 6. Both are the brainchildren of one of King George VI's elders, who shall not be named due to the disgrace she caused and the threat she posed to the Royal family. Even after all this time, whispers about her supporters luring in the dark still run amok in the Erusean court. Yet, it can't be denied that MI5 and MI6 have been useful tools for the Royal Crown after repeated purging of the more unstable elements. Right now, MI5 is probably the best source King George VI can get his most up-to-date news from, considering how other intelligence sources are made inebriated by the crippled radio network.
As he talks with his Queen and the rest of his cabinet to prepare himself for the meeting with Count Farbanti, a part of the King's mind races about the bleak future of the Kingdom of Erusea. He hopes that, perhaps through the discussion with the Count, there can be a light at the end of the tunnel for everyone involved. Yet, unknown to the hopeful King, the undercurrents are as deep as they can get on the island nation of his rule.
It's yet another sad day for the Misty Capital.