AN: Three things. One, I ask you, dear readers, not to judge Harry too harshly based on the events of this chapter. Please remember the past vignettes in previous installments referring to his relationship to Ginny before you go off saying "Harry is scum!"
Secondly, I hope that this chapter may answer a comment I found in one of my reviews about the lack of communication between the Imperial resistance factions.
Third, I'm going to start including "Newspaper Headlines" at the beginning of every relevant chapter in order to give you readers a better idea on the situation of the world.
Cheers!
Marquis Black
From "The Legend of the Duke," by Christopher Klein
Extract from Chapter 2, "Creating the Myth"
"...the start of the myth of the Northern Duke has its roots in truly trivial circumstances. Its beginning can be traced back to the first report of the NBLF victories in Canada to the Confederacy after the fall of Halifax. Originally, the report was supposed to include Harry Potter's name, but it was unintentionally left out in a typing error. When the Duke and the later Admiral Hawke heard of this however, they decided, thanks in part to Hawke's urging, to leave the Duke's name intentionally left out of future dispatches. Their reasoning, it seems, was that by foregoing the Duke's given name, they were creating for the Imperial Resistance a symbol of Imperial victory of mythical proportions. With each passing victory, Hawke had argued, the myth of the Duke would grow greater and greater, and would give the scattered peoples of the Empire someone to look up to. Someone so grand, so great that their hopes and determination were kept and raised up every day..."
News Headlines:
Resistance Scores a Victory in Australia!
Sydney nearly liberated!
Defeat in Europe!
Anti-Death Eater Coalition retreats after battering defeat at Aix!
"Meddling Will Be Retaliated Against," Japanese Emperor Declares!
Death Eater Representative kicked out!
Irish Army Triumphs!
Reports indicate great victory at Galway!
American Resistance Blamed for Bombing!
45 People killed in bombing of American-Death Eater Rapprochement Association Building!
32 People Executed in Brazil!
Victims accused of treason!
Harrisburg, Capital of New Britannia
Harry watched neutrally as the citizens of his city walked past his horse-drawn carriage. Across from him sat Admiral Hawke and to his right sat his Chief of Staff (a necessary hire), Allison McIntyre, wife to one of his lieutenants. She was presently informing him of his daily schedule.
"…and Sulu's new delegation should be arriving today, Your Grace," informed Allison. "They'll be expecting all the proper formalities, which means a courtesy call to your person, Your Grace,"
"Fine, fine," acceded Harry as he rubbed his aching forehead. "Sulu always was a stickler for the rules, back at the Academy," he commented. "What else?"
Allison quickly paged through her notebook. "A meeting with the Harrisburg Commercial Guild at five thirty, followed by a tour of the Northern Shipyards."
Harry gave a disbelieving snort. "Do I have any free time at all today?" he asked.
Allison shook her head. "I'm sorry, your Grace, but today is a particularly heavy day."
Harry nodded reluctantly in acceptance. "Very well. Any good news at all?" he asked.
Allison looked through her day planner for a moment before nodding. "Imperial Shipyards report that construction on the new Resolution-Class flagship is finished," she reported.
That piqued Harry's interest. He'd commissioned Imperial Shipyards, the main shipbuilding company in his domains, to build an even bigger class of ships—one whose members would be slower, but far more powerful assault ships.
"Is it ready for launching?" asked Harry. In front of him, Admiral Hawke looked just as eager to find out as Allison paged her planner.
"Unfortunately, no, Your Grace," she replied at length. "The ship must still be tested for flight capabilities and weapon efficiency."
Harry and the admiral nodded somewhat reluctantly. They were both extremely eager to use the Resolution as the new vanguard for their final offensive to lay claim to Nova Scotia.
They had, of course, another reason for wanting the Resolution as well.
This other reason for the building of the Resolution Class ships was to make the NLBF the most dangerous of the different Loyalist factions. For, despite their common hatred of the Death Eaters and their allies, the Imperial factions were also divided by strife. Each wanted to be the one that would bring back the Empire—and Harry was no exception.
Every warlord roaming the planet, from mild O'Connor to brutal McDonald, had ambition. Even Harry. All had personal aspirations that made them unable to fully cooperate with the other. However, even as these differences plagued their unity, the different warlords did have embassies set up in each others' territory.
They even shared technology, which was why every warlord now possessed Assault Ships, of the Retaliation Class. However, Harry's spies had heard that McDonald, Sulu, and Staples had all begun to work on a larger denomination of Assault Ships, which was why he'd commissioned the Resolution.
"When will it be ready to launch?" asked the Admiral. A nod from Harry had Allison reading from her book once more.
"About…a week from now."
Harry looked over to Hawke. "Can we postpone the attack that long?" he asked.
Hawke looked pensive for a moment before nodding. "It shouldn't make a difference. The Death Eaters have no idea we're coming either way."
Harry nodded. "Very good. Allison, note the change. The expedition will leave in a week, not after-tomorrow."
"Very good, Your Grace"
The carriage suddenly started to slow down, indicating that they were arriving at Harry's headquarters—though palace would have been a better fitting word. Harry, however, made no move to leave and instead nodded over to the admiral.
"Admiral, you go on ahead," he told his senior Navy officer. "I'll follow in a minute. I have another affair to deal with first."
Hawke nodded once before saluting and tapping the roof once, indicating that only one person, and not the Duke, would be getting out. The carriage driver quickly got off and opened the wooden door, allowing the Admiral to climb out. The man then turned on his heel and swept off his hat in a bow.
"I'll be informing the Council of your lateness, then, Your Grace?" he asked.
Harry nodded. "Tell them I'll be arriving after having dealt with something," he told him.
The admiral bowed a bit lower in acknowledgement. "As you wish, Your Grace," he replied before straightening up and entering the palace.
Meanwhile, Harry nodded to the driver, who closed the door to the carriage. The carriage jerked forward suddenly at first before steadily picking up speed, until they were at a decent trot.
Harry motioned to Allison, who daintily jerked the lever that brought down the window screens, essentially occluding the inside of the carriage from the populace outside.
One look from Harry told Allison exactly what the affair was.
A far more relieved Duke entered the Council room twenty minutes later.
As Allison watched her leader walk into the middle of the Council room, where a small, circular platform with his seat on top resided, she thought on the Duke's earlier activity.
It was no secret to her husband that the Duke often partook in having sex with her, due, they believed, to her passing resemblance to the Duke's deceased wife. In fact, it hadn't even been the Duke's idea that he and she begin this affair, but rather hers and her husband's.
Douglas owed the Duke everything he had, including his wife, since they would have never met had they not been both positioned in the same platoon. She could still remember that fateful day, when Douglas had asked her to cover him as he, crazily enough, leaped towards the cover of some crates. The very memory made her smile, remaining completely oblivious to the routine and dreary meeting occurring before her.
Allison, too, owed the Duke everything. The void in her life that she'd dealt with for most of her life had been filled with her inducting into the Imperial Armed Forces. Her stationing on the Retaliation had given her a whole new, fascinating world to look forward to, and her posting in the 1st Platoon of A Company had gotten her, her husband.
Yes, the two McIntyres owed the Duke everything. And so they decided to help their beloved commander any way they could.
Which was how Douglas had come to the conclusion that she should suggest having an affair, telling him, of course, that he approved.
It had taken the better part of nearly two years before the Duke finally caved in to his basic, physiological needs. That same day when he'd agreed, he'd grabbed her by the wrists, pushed her onto his table, and taken her right there in his office. Allison had simply lain there and enjoyed it.
Douglas, to her delight, was not rattled nor did he become full of jealousy, making her fall in love even more with him, even if the idea had been his. He had completely rationalized the encounter, simply telling her that he understood that the Duke had needs to fill and that, as long as she took the Contraception Potion, he was fine with it.
Douglas' final agreement to it had cemented the affair between the Duke and Allison. Once every week, he'd stay behind before an event and take her into a deserted room or into a closet, where he'd then hike up her skirt and take her right there, or sometimes even call her into his office after hours. There was no fear of getting caught, either. There were no cameras in the palace, as the Duke had magical cameras that he had access to through his glasses.
And besides, if anyone did catch them and intended to reveal the affair in a negative light, the Duke would simply make him/her disappear, or get reassigned to some suicidal attack.
Allison shifted a bit as she felt somewhat uncomfortable in her underwear. Getting ones underwear on in a carriage in motion was no small feat.
Still, thinking about the affair had gotten Allison somewhat flushed and, as she watched the Duke start speaking to the council, she decided that her husband was definitely going to get some quality time that night.
"…The Northern Britannic Loyalist Forces wishes to express its cordial welcome to the delegates from our brethren from Africa, and welcome their words of wisdom," welcomed Harry, spreading his arms in a friendly gesture towards the two dark-skinned men who were sitting to his front. Now came the ugly part, though.
"However, as I've already told General Sulu, I cannot agree with his League," declared Harry, to the expecting looks of the delegates. "The methods the General wishes to implement against the Death Eaters would mean the abandoning several important and loyal," he emphasized, "Imperial lands, which all expect and live under Imperial protection."
"However," Harry then said, "The Northern Britannic Loyalist Forces are always agreeable to negotiating this stance in favour of one more partial to those lands which union to the General's League would mean abandonment. I thank you for your time, and once again, heartily welcome your presence, delegates."
Harry watched as everyone in the room rose to applaud him, even the African delegates. There were no hard feelings—it was simply restating facts that had already been said over and over and over again.
As everyone applauded, however, Harry let his eyes wander over to Allison and a small, satisfied smile escaped him as he thought of the romp they'd had in the carriage. She was a decent lay, he admitted to himself, but she wasn't his Ginny, who was the only one who could truly satisfy him. Allison was also, to his mind, not as beautiful or heart-stopping as Ginny was, but the passing resemblance she bore was enough to get his libido working every time he saw her, which was why he only sporadically met with her, even on theRetaliation.
He held no attachment to the redheaded older woman. In fact, whenever they were in coitus, he would always speak out his wife's name, not hers. Still, the experience was pleasant enough, and it satisfied his libido, which kept his head clear.
Harry gracefully walked off the platform as it lowered back down to the ground, walking forward to meet with the African delegates. The first one moved in quickly and shook his hand vigorously.
"The General sends his greetings, Marshall Potter," stated the delegate. Harry took no offence at having his title omitted—none of the warlords recognized any non-Royally accredited nobility title.
Harry gave them an honest smile. "I hope the General is well?"
"Well enough," answered the second delegate, who also shook his hand. "He sent to say that he would be attending the Conclave, if you would tell him the location, since you are this year's Chair."
Harry nodded the Conclave, or rather, the Conclave of Imperial Brethren, was a private meeting among the different warlords that occurred every year at an undisclosed location. The Chair of the Conclave was appointed by turns based on geography. This year, it was the North's turn, so Harry had gotten the Chair position.
"We're still figuring it out," he assured the delegates. "Our incursion yesterday caused us to move resources towards the offensive, so we've had little time to plan."
The delegates nodded in acceptance. "Very well, Marshall," spoke the first delegate. "We shall be waiting for your directions at the embassy." With that, the two delegates gave a short bow and left the room, allowing Harry's officials to mob him.
At the clutter of voices, Harry rose a hand that shut them all up. "One at a time, gentlemen," he reminded them.
"Sir, the Artisans Guild requests a meeting with Your Grace," a clerk spoke first.
Harry waved dismissively. "Have them send the request through the proper channels. No one gets preferential treatment."
"The Northern Fleet is awaiting orders, Your Grace," spoke another official, this one a Commodore.
"Have the Ark Royal begin its raiding tour along Route Four"
"Sir, the Planning Committee needs your approval about using Central Island as the meeting place for the Conclave"
"Granted. Get everything ready. I want that meeting to happen in three days."
Harry skilfully delegated tasks and gave his approval as, one by one, his officials came forward with requests and announcements and papers to sign.
By the time he was finished, however, it was time to go meet with the Commerce Guild. A slight touch from Allison on his arm reminded him of that and, excusing himself, Harry followed his Chief of Staff out of the palace and into the awaiting carriage.
AN: So, having read the chapter, I'd like you to now remember, before flaming Harry's actions, the following words: A good general keeps his lower head fulfilled, and his upper head in the game. That being said, I apologize for the crudeness of the statement, but it applies here.
Also, I was asked about the status of the Middle-East-India region at this time.
Middle East: Dominated mostly by Anti-Death Eater Islamic groups, though splintered due to religious and political reasons.
India (including Pakistan): South dominated by A.L.L.; North split between local anti-Imperial, Anti-Death Eater factions, and pro-DE factions.
Also, on the question regarding the Japanese Emperor. How can a man be a dark wizard who favours the light? Well, he's a dark wizard because the magic he knows would be classified, in western nations, as Dark, seeing as how they mostly aim to cause pain. He doesn't, however, ever use them except when fighting wars, and merely uses the less potent ones (like melding into shadows) on a trivial level (like hiding his face from the "unworthy").