The sun set upon the British Empire. At least on the few shambles of overseas territories and colonies that were still left under British control. That was the same thought that painfully tore Arthur Kirkland back into reality, when he observed the gleaming sunset over the Canadian mainland like he did every night, since arriving here. The days when the sun would slowly leave the North American continent before greeting the Australians again every morning and thus never setting on the British Empire were long over. Well, if you considered six years to be a long time. For Arthur, it seemed like an eternity.
It has been six years since England, as one of the last great forces to be reckoned with left fighting against the central powers, had to surrender against the mighty if also severely weakened Quadruple Alliance. The Englishman snorted with rage, when he remembered the day he accompanied his King, George V, to sign the peace treaty. He huffed again this time followed by a slight shake of the head.
"Peace Treaty" he muttered angrily. As if that bloody piece of paper would ever bring a constant peace to Europe. Or to the world. Anyone involved in drafting that contract, as the majority of the British public preferred to call it, probably knew all to well that these heinous, absurd, embarrassing demands would only sparkled further outrage.
The place where the treat – contract – Arthur reminded himself was to be signed was chosen by the Germans. Even back then Arthur was utterly surprised when he heard the German Emperor had decided upon having the meeting between the English diplomats and the German ones take place in Australia. The official reasons as stated by the German office was that Australia was far off the actual fighting grounds and thus a good place for peace negation, despite the fact that the Australians were of course allied with England. Everyone assigned to the British secretary of war had suspected the eccentric German Kaiser would have taken much more pleasure in humiliating the British within his own country. Arthur had even prepared for that scenario by training to oppress the urge to punch a certain silver haired arrogant twat. However, when the British representatives arrived at an admittedly sordid building complex opposite of the Flinders Street railway station in the makeshift capital of Melbourne, after the actual capital city Canberra had been razed to the ground by early models of Austrian bombers, they were even more surprised by the complete absence of any high ranking officials of any of the central powers. Not one monarch, not one famous general, not even the actual representatives of the countries had made the trip down under. The only people who greeted the British travelers were some unimposing German and Bulgarian politicians and lieutenants, who weren't even important enough for Arthur to recognize any of their faces or names for that matter. The negotiations hadn't even begun and Arthur had already been close to flying into a rage.
"Good evening, gentleman." One man greeted them with an thick Eastern European accent. He gestured towards a couple of cheap looking chairs that were arranged on the opposing site of the table. Grudgingly, Arthur watched as the British monarch and his political advisers hesitantly took their offered seats, while he and most of the guards stood behind them. The following introductions were skimped.
When he had seen the actual contract that was laid before them, for King George V to sign, Arthur did a double take. At the top of the demands made by the victors were heavy reparations, which would most likely end in bankruptcy should England ever be able to pay them off. Prohibitions from entering alliance with certain countries. Restraints on productions. Reduction of the Royal Navy. Having to provide an established amount of medicine for the people, who suffered because of the British naval blockade, as well as admitting full responsibility for the deaths resulting in said blockade. When he set eyes on a simple list without any title or explanation made up of several countries and colonies currently under British rule, Arthur starred bewilderingly up towards the men in front of him. The majority of them were busy explaining and discussing other paragraphs of the treaty to the English diplomats. He looked at each face of their negotiation partners, searching for someone who could define what this list was about, until he noticed that apparently one of these men had been studying him the entire time. When the nation locked eyes with the young man his expression turned into a smile. But it was not a friendly smile, it appeared rather... smug. Looking back Arthur realized the man hadn't contributed a single word to the actual negotiations. The blonde man before him was wearing a field grey coat with two lines of golden buttons on either side, that went up to the collar of the uniform and red-golden epaulets on the shoulder pads (though Arthur couldn't really make out what they depicted). Although Arthur didn't pried himself on recognizing foreign military awards, he could identify the medal pinned to the collar of his uniform as the Pour le Mérite. One of the highest orders of merit in the Kingdom of Prussia.
The young officer – Hauptmann Zöllner - as Arthur remembered he had introduced himself earlier, was the first to break the starring contest and instead laid his eyes on the list England had previously tried to figure out. Soundlessly he placed his long index finger on the list. He ignored the heated debate that took had stirred up next to him. By now it had turned rather ugly. When he finally spoke up though, it seemed like his incisive voice cut through all the discussions like a knife through the air.
"Countries that are oppressed by you. In order to gain a peace treaty with us, you will have to grant all of these full independence."
Silence filled the room.
Arthur's features immediately contorted. He knitted his thick brows but his eyes stayed wide open. Without him knowing it, he raised his arm threateningly towards Zöllner and tried his best to keep his voice from trembling.
"Oppressed? We rightfully rule over these territories and have signed agreements. What gives you the right to intervene in issues that don't concern you, ya bloody bastards."
General Genadiev, the oldest of the Bulgarian representatives, opened his mouth to counter Arthur, but was interrupted by another voice before uttering a single word.
"Let it go, mate."
Arthur's anger was exchanged for confusion. He fanatically turned his head around to spot the person who just spoke up. Only now he noticed how dimly lit the shabby room was and how the entire back was covered by the dark. He silently cursed again when he concluded that they might have been caught in an ambush. No wonder no high ranking officials were present. These men sitting before them were probably just some nobodies, who lured them here without any offical German government involvement. Oh, who was he kidding? Without a doubt, that goddamn Kaiser-wanker with his ridiculous mustache had planned this all along. The few English officers, who had accompanied the British King and his underlings seemed to have had the same thought as they moved into a better position to protect their King, should the enemy really attack. Arthur also tried to subtly reach towards the dagger he had keep hidden within his pocket, all the while observing Zöllner and his associates.
"Who's there?" one of the British officers shouted at the dark. A moment of silence followed, only disrupted by the screeching noise of a chair being slide back on the floor by Hauptmann Zöllner, who had stood up and pushed back the chair while doing so. One of the English guards quietly search the small window for a handle. The stuffy air was becoming insufferable.
Arthur caught the smirk that had spread on the Zöllner's face just in time, before the German turned his head back towards the unlit part of the room.
"Please come here, Mister Bennett." Zöllner's accent became more pronounced.
Arthur stood his ground and waited for an reaction from the dark. After a few seconds, hesitant footsteps echoed through the room. The English nation squinted his eyes and tried to make out movements in the shadows, while the footsteps increased and grew louder but he couldn't see anything yet. Was this goddamn room really that long? Silence dominated once more when a man stepped out of the shadows to reveal himself in the light and all eyes looked at him. While some of the English diplomats and officers seemed confused as to who exactly stood in front of them, Arthur recognized the man the moment his eyes caught sight of him. He was slightly taller than Arthur and more muscular. His dark brown, wavy hair was combed back except for one or two strands of hair that popped up at the middle of his head. A pair of emerald green eyes, Arthur normally knew to move around excitingly, looked dejected towards the ground and pointed to a dirty band-aid plastered on the man's nose. What gave away his identity immediately though, were his thick eyebrows, that hung crouched above his eyes. Arthur knew these kind of eyebrows just too well. They were his own.
"Australia" Arthur whispered.
Jett Bennett slowly looked up. "G'day, England."
Seeing his Australian counterpart Arthur finally understood just why the victorious powers scheduled this meeting right here. Especially when he looked back at the countries featured on the list the British crown would have to grant independence to, whether he wanted to or not. The Commonwealth of Australia was the first name on the list. The English would not only leave the peace negotiations defeated but they would also have to endure a more symbolic humiliation. The moment they would sign the treaty, they would abandon this run-down building and step onto soil that just minutes earlier had belonged to them. Arthur had expected that any country would be delighted at being officially and fully declared independent but for some reason he only saw sorrow in the eyes of Jett Bennett and the whole time he was down there he had wondered why. Not for another three years Arthur would realize he misinterpreted Jett's behavior. His expression wasn't one of sadness, disappointment or mourning. He looked guilty. As if he had read the demands of the peace treaty and knew exactly what would happen to the glorious British Empire.
The British representatives gather again to consider the treaty laying before them. Although not all of them wanted to admit it, they knew that there was no other choice for them. Their allies in this truly global war already surrendered or were caught in a crisis of their own. Their army on the brink of mutiny. Their supplies close to an end. They were the losers, only here to prevent further losses. England starred at the papers before them. They remained motionless but Arthur couldn't stop himself from imagining them laughing maliciously at their misery. But maybe these vibes just came from the officers presenting the peace treaty to them. Despite the fact that the victors pretended to treat the British monarch and his adviser as equals in these negotiations, they all knew to evaluate and interpret the situation right. Like a lion watching its prey helplessly toddle in a trap, Zöllner kept his eyes fixated on the British monarch and his quivering hands.
Defeated, Arthur watched George V pick up the quill that lay to the left of the table and dunk the tip of it into the inkwell. The King hesitated and held the quill still above of where he was supposed to sign his name. To sign off the future of his country. A drip of ink leaked from the tip of the nib and fell down. As if in slow motion Arthur watched the drip plummet into uncertainly, much like the future of his own being. Would the drop land on the paper or splash on the desk in front of it? What actually happened to that one driblet of ink Arthur didn't see, as the English King seemed to have snapped out of his trance and quickly lowered his hand to scribble his signature on the designated spot on the paper. After he finished the King promptly pushed to dreaded document towards Zöllner, whose conceited smile was even more unbearable to England than the fuggy air.
"Thank you, Your Majesty."
The precise moment King George V put down the quill again the German and Bulgarian representatives picked up their belongings and stuffed them into their suit cases. Without another word they rose from their seats and stormed out of this shabby room and into the fiery sun that awaited them outside. In their hands the new official Peace Treaty of Melbourne. The ink hadn't even dried.
Hauptmann Zöllner had picked up his black peaked cap that adorned a red stripe in the middle and featured two cockades, which Arthur recognized as tokens symbolizing the black, white and red flag of the German Empire and the black-white one of Prussia. With his right hand the German officer had put the cap on his head without messing his neatly combed blonde hair. He was the last to exit the room, but not before turning back again towards the humiliated Englishmen and delivering one final blow.
"You're free to go now, gentlemen."
Now Arthur Kirkland was sent to Canada to ensure further cooperation and loyalty of the remaining colonies and dominions. To avoid the pressure and attention of the press Arthur and Matthew Williams, his Canadian counterpart, had agreed upon having their first meeting in a remote village in the north of the country to discuss their plans concerning the future. The Canadian government provided them with a wooden hut and personal. The Englishmen regretted this decision the moment he stepped off the heated jet that had carried him over the ocean and was welcomed by the cool Canadian winter air. Maybe as some sort of redemption Matthew's greeting was that much more enthusiastic. Or maybe he was just happy someone hadn't mistaken him for his loud-mouth of a brother. On the first day they talked about the war and confined their losses and current problems in each other. On the second day they talked about the British-Canadian relationship and how they promised unyielding loyalty. On the third day they compared their economic statuses and proposed ways to pay off the reparations that were imposed on them. On the forth day they review diplomatic relations with out countries. And on the fifth day they were silent. They had nothing more to say to each other. Arthur didn't really knew, if it was because everything there was to it had already been discussed or if they themselves were just at a loss for words. Sitting there in uncomfortable silence, Matthew suggest they go out for moose hunting, explained that is was a popular activity in these regions but Arthur declined. Not because he didn't enjoy hunting in and of itself; he couldn't even remember how many times he had accompanied King George V on his hunts through the English woods. However, the English Nation concluded that he could use this time to finish the report on their meeting and sent it back to his bosses, although he didn't exactly told that to Matthew. So while the Canadian was wandering off in the snow-covered forest, Arthur stayed back in the cosy hut, they had been living at for the last past week.
After lighten the fireplace located in the middle of living room of the hut, Arthur sat down on the wooden chair to finally complete the report requested of him but he just couldn't concentrate. Instead of thinking about the all in all successful talks he had with Matthew, thoughts of betrayal and suspicions plagued his mind. He knew full well that the Canadian was sincere and meant every word he said during their discussions. Ever since meeting the younger Nation he had been nothing, but honest and loyal towards the British Empire. He wouldn't back out now. Not like his backstabbing, mouth-breathing, bloody brother. He wouldn't find anything. He knew it; he was sure of it but still he got up and started open drawers, looking through files and books he found in the hut, inspected every item and object that he came across. But he found nothing, though he did wonder why an adult man kept a teddy bear on open display for everyone to see on a self.
Ashamed, Arthur sat back down again. He wasn't just ashamed at the fact that he had let his suspicion get the better of him and his mistrust had unsurprisingly turned out unfounded, but also because he was almost disappointed that he couldn't find anything. Had he found something, he would have a reason. He would hold it up high in the air and declare that everybody else was to blame for his failures, because he was betrayed by them, even by his closest allies. But he found nothing. And he was deeply ashamed of himself. After that he finished the inchoate report in under a hour.
He asked one of the maids to deliver the report together with other papers and documents all gathered in a packet to the nearest post office. Just as the sun was about to set, Arthur decided to settle on the porch outside the hut, like he and Matthew had done the other nights as well. Despite the ruthless Canadian temperatures, Arthur managed to enjoy being outside after the first few days he had spent here. The orange gleaming horizon more than made up for it. It looked so far away, while at the same time seeming so near. The Englishmen felt the last warming sun rays vanish and shuddered as his cheeks turned colder and colder the more the sun hid behind the striking Canadian mountains. It wouldn't be long now before the sky was completely dark, Arthur concluded. He remembered how one night Matthew had taken him out even further into the woods and they had observed the polar lights. This past week Arthur really learned to appreciate the nature. It was at moments like this he could finally relax and think about anything else other than his situation. That was before a maid quietly knocked on the glass door, bringing him back to reality. The girl – Arthur guessed her no older than twenty – handed him a plain letter apparently sent by a certain Jonathan Harrison. England tried not to let the maid notice his confusion at the unfamiliar name as she handed him the letter.
"Thank you, Miss."
She dropped a curtsy and left without another word. Arthur looked back at her, waiting until she was out of sight before he opened the letter. He pulled out a single paper of the envelope and read it.
"We need you back here immediately. Come as quickly as possible. Do not confine any of this to Mr. Williams."
Arthur's hands trembled as he saw the signature. Quex.