SEND HIM VICTORIOUS - A Royal Thriller - Chapter 3, part 1

What if the British Parliament was abolished by the reigning King of England?

King Alfred II reigns over Great Britain.

Frustrated by the lack of real power of the modern monarchy, the King seizes back the power once wielded by his ancient ancestors.

But the world does not want to let him keep it...

In a history where Queen Elizabeth II never came to the throne, the British Royal Family turned out very differently.

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This is my latest book, which I am serializing for you here on Steemit. You can buy this book on Amazon (clickable here) or any other online bookshop, both electronically and in print, or you can read it free right here.

I am also thinking of recording an audiobook of this title. Please let me know if you would like that.

I look forward to interacting with you. If you have any questions about the story, locations, characters, events, or background, please ask (though I will only answer them if it doesn’t require revealing spoilers!).

This book is the product of years of preparation, research, and writing. I hope you enjoy it!

Read on:

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CHAPTER THREE - Rule (part 1 of 5)

“Good morning, Your Highness,” Mitchell said, his hand resting on the handle of the open front door. He bowed to Princess Frances, who stood in the porch of Clarence House, flanked by two bodyguards in dark suits and glasses, shoulder holsters showing beneath their jackets. Her limousine waited nearby. “It’s lovely to see you again so soon.”

“Good morning to you too, Mitchell,” the Princess said. “Is my brother here, by any chance?”

“Please come in, Your Highness. The Prince of Wales is in today, and he has no engagements. At least, no official engagements.”

“Ah,” she said. “So am I to assume he’s not up yet?”

“Oh yes, he’s been up for a little while now. He and the–” Mitchell put a finger to his lips. “He’s taking breakfast. I’m sure he would be very happy to see you. May I just let him know that you’re here first? So that I can ascertain where he wishes to receive you.”

“Of course,” Frances said. “You’re the image and likeness of discretion, as always, Mitchell.” She smiled at him. He returned the smile before turning to depart.

She made her way to a reception room, flanked by her security men.

“You two may wait outside,” the Princess said, closing the communicating doors.

The men complied.

Frances waited on an 18th-century sofa of English manufacture, in common with all the furniture in this room. Of a similar vintage, the paintings, while acceptable in mixed company today, were on the saucier end of what reputable painters produced at that period.

Prince Adrian opened the door, bursting in on the silence. “Why didn’t you tell me you were coming? I’d have been ready for you.” His hair was wet, and no pyjamas were visible under his dressing gown.

“Oh no, I learn much more by dropping in unexpectedly.”

“What could you want to learn? You know I’m always completely truthful with you,” the Prince said, arms held open.

“Truthful perhaps,” she said, “but not necessarily factual.”

Adrian’s brow furrowed. “You haven’t told me what you want. I am rather busy at the moment, so if you could just state your business…”

“Busy?” She raised an eyebrow. “I’m surprised you’re even awake.”

“So you’ve come here merely to show me your snide side?” He shifted his weight and crossed his arms over his chest.

“Congratulations on your commission.”

The Prince’s arms dropped to his sides. “What commission?”

“Your naval commission.” Frances’s eyes narrowed as she turned her head slightly away from him. “Obviously nobody told you that you’re captain of the HMS Dominance now.”

“Am I?” He raised his hands as if fending off a paparazzo. “I mean, I’m not – not taking command of anything. Is this Father’s latest ploy?”

“It’s no ploy. Father wants you to take command of that ship and to undertake a diplomatic mission. Already, Scotland is making some rather disagreeable noises over Father’s New Order. He wants you to sail the Dominance to Edinburgh and address the Scottish Parliament. A show of strength and an olive branch in the same gesture. Persuade Scotland to support us. Otherwise things could get difficult, and the United Kingdom may once again fail to live up to its name.”

“Excuse me. Let me see if I understood you correctly. You would have me understand that Father believes in me?” He shook his head, incredulous.

“He does believe in you.” The Princess stood up and walked slowly. “But he doesn’t know you as well as the rest of the country does.”

“Thanks for your honesty,” the Prince said with a half-laugh.

The Princess stopped at a painting, clasping her hands behind her back. “Like you, I’m always truthful.”

Adrian regarded Frances’s profile. “And what about you? Do you believe in me?”

“Of course not,” she said. “Have you ever given me cause to?”

“Possibly. And I’d rather have your respect than his.”

“I’m sorry,” the Princess said, examining the painting, “but that’s a foolish attitude. Why do you think Father is doing what he is doing?”

“Because he has a big head,” the Prince said, looking away from her.

“He’s creating this New Order for you. You are heir to the throne, and Father wants to make sure you have something to inherit. It may not be the inheritance you expected or wanted, but it’s one you cannot refuse. This is greatness being thrust upon you. This is history in the making. If you embrace it, you may find you’re better than you think you are. If you rise to the challenge, you might prove Father right.” Frances turned from the painting to look at Adrian. “And me wrong. If you want my respect, this is the only way you’re going to get it.”

“Respect?” The Prince coughed the word out, meeting her gaze. “You think I’m going to try to buy it from you? As in, I can only have it if I do A and B? Well, I don’t need to buy anything. I am the future King. I don’t have to earn it. I could talk those bloody Scots into going along with Father’s ridiculous plan if I chose to. But I don’t choose to. I could even command a ship if I chose to. I’ve got wits, I’ve got charm, charisma, brains – and I know how to use them.”

“Oh, I know that very well,” the Princess said, “as evidenced by your bimbos.”

“Get out!” Adrian shouted, pointing at the door. “Your respect isn’t that important to me.”

“Of course not. If you had ever wanted to prove you could do something well, other than philandering, you’d have done it by now. Middle-age doesn’t sit well on someone who refuses to grow up.”

“Oh, and you are very grown-up, yes? So much so that you have an ex-spouse, exactly as I do, and children who scarcely know you, exactly as I do.”

“Touché, my dear brother. We are, the two of us, equal failures.” Frances turned her back on her brother and made for the door. Mitchell opened it from the other side, closing it as the Princess came through. “How did you know,” she said with a glint in her eye, “I was leaving?”

“I am simply very good at my job, Your Highness,” Mitchell said. “Have you had a successful meeting with His Highness?”

“I think I did what I came to do.” She smiled. “I wish you an equally successful day, Mitchell.”

The Princess walked on, her bodyguards falling in behind her.

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“Frederick?” Adrian spoke into his gold-finished, diamond-studded iPhone. “I’ve decided to accept that commission. How will it work, with two captains on board? I can’t exactly sleep down below decks with the seamen.”

Dressed for the day in a Saville Row suit, Adrian paced the floor of his office, holding his phone to his ear.

“Captain Roberts will be giving you his cabin,” Admiral Billington said.

“That should be adequate. I’ll look forward to assuming command – even if the captain’s quarters are somewhat below the standard of Clarence House.” The Prince smiled.

Adrian jingled the change and keys in his pocket.

“Count your blessings, Your Highness. Captain Roberts will be bunking in the officers’ conference room. The officers’ mess will have to do if the brass need to confab.”

“Ah. I hadn’t thought about that. Well, everyone has to endure these little ignominies occasionally. I’m sure he’ll do so with the utmost composure.”

“He’s had to put up with much worse,” Billington responded.

“I’m pleased we understand one another. Good. It’s your investiture soon, isn’t it? I expect I’ll see you there then. Good bye, Frederick.”

He inserted his iPhone in its Acqua Di Parma Tournée buffalo skin leather slipcase, slipping that in his inside jacket pocket.

“Mitchell!”

The door opened. “Your highness?”

“Get me my father on the house phone.”

“Of course, sir.” The door closed.

The Prince sat behind his desk, leaned back and closed his eyes.

The desk telephone rang. Adrian answered it.

“Good morning, Father. How are you today? Enjoying this lovely weather?”

“I hadn’t noticed the weather,” Alfred said. “I have rather larger matters to consider at the moment.”

“Of course, yes, I understand.”

“You didn’t call me to talk about the weather. Or did you?”

“I will be… or rather, I have accepted the commission. I spoke to Frederick only a few moments ago. It’s all arranged. Given the immediacy of the situation, I’m going aboard today.”

“Good. I’m so pleased. I’ll leave you to it then.”

“Oh, and Father… Thanks for sending Frances to tell me you don’t believe in me. What a vote of confidence. I’m still basking in it.”

Alfred waited a moment before answering. “But I do believe in you, son. More than anything. I don’t know what your sister said to you, but it would seem to have had a positive effect.”

“She said, essentially, that I am a useless and immature waste of space, and gave the impression that you and everyone else believe the same. And I suppose it’s true.”

“Do not believe that about yourself. England expects great things of you. And I do as well. Believe that.” An uncomfortable silent moment passed. “Do you?”

“I had better get to my ship.”

“Of course, son. I’ll send the Sikorsky to collect you. Good luck.”