This feeling had been there for some time, fluttering deep within his gut. He was an Englishman, but the Crown was distant and exceedingly fickle about whether he was included or not. He was grown, but he was still tied as a child to its parent. All he knew was that he was uncomfortable where he was. He was surrounded by enemies, and protected by someone who hardly sent messengers.
The men who whispered solutions into his ears were wealthy, and became that way with a mixture of smuggling and land-ownership. They were violent and passionate, a bit too much for Alfred's taste.
He focused on keeping his colonies in line, which was no small feat. Their relationship was strained at the best of times, which left him with the nearly daily task of prying someone's hands off South Carolina's throat or quieting a screaming match between New York and anyone around him.
It'd be easier to control them if he still had the power to. That'd been reassigned and dissolved by the Crown, as of late. Taxes were being levied against him to pay for that, as if it were some sort of privilege.
The men were procuring weapons from around Europe on Alfred's behalf, even if it was without his knowledge or consent. They spoke of French support, which was hard to believe with all the hostile Frenchmen surrounding him. Frenchmen who'd been handed a great deal of land he'd had his eye on, but no matter. There were more issues at hand.
His ability to meet with his people was being restricted, because Arthur told him he talked far too much for his own good. As if he weren't grown enough to know what was good for him.
The feeling within his gut bubbled and grew, filling every bit of him until it fell from his lips and spewed onto the streets. The men around him, just as English and not as he was, were rioting against the taxes. The colonies raged against one another in their frustration about everything else.
Massachusetts came running to him, and gave a breathless rant about soldiers murdering civilians. The facts were fuzzy, but he insisted it was nothing short of a heartless massacre. That the murderers were found innocent was nothing short of tyranny.
The feeling had become white-hot, and begged to be released. The men whispered to him about a raid on a trade ship, and he headed up north without hesitation.