AN: Well, here's the next chapter. No action here, though. Sorry, folks. - MB
Hours later, Harry was waiting patiently in the Queen's bedroom's entrance as Elizabeth changed behind a screen, helped by her attendants.
"Pleasant man, that Prime Minister," Elizabeth commented randomly.
"Pleasant enough, Your Majesty," agreed Harry.
Harry heard Elizabeth sigh. "Halifax, when are you going to stop addressing me so formally?" whined the Queen. "How many times must we—I ask you to call me Elizabeth?"
Harry grinned, though this passed unnoticed by his sovereign. "At least once more, Your Majesty."
The Queen huffed and would have crossed her arms, had it not been for the fact that she was being slid out of her dress.
Harry chuckled appreciatively before resuming his wait. A few minutes later, the Queen was out of her formal dress and once again in her Oxford shirt-skirt combination. She walked over to her bed and sat on the edge, glaring at him, while Harry merely raised an eyebrow.
"You're mean," she accused him somewhat immaturely.
Harry snickered. "Very mature, Your Majesty."
Elizabeth scowled briefly before letting the subject drop. "What are we doing tomorrow?" she asked.
Harry pulled out a piece of paper from his breast-pocket and unfolded it. "At nine in the morning, we have a breakfast with the Prime Minister and his wife," he read. "Then, at ten thirty, a meeting with the brass from the Japanese Imperial Army. Then, at twelve thirty, a lunch hosted by the British Liberation Foundation, who have been sending supplies and money to our factions for years now, and then a two-thirty, we have the meeting with the judges from the Supreme Court, before finally meeting the Emperor at four-thirty."
"How come we meet the Emperor last?" asked Elizabeth.
"The Emperor is…" Harry struggled to find the right words. "….a very pragmatic man. The way I understand it, he wants to see if we can get along with his government staff before making any friendly overtures. If we get into conflict with any of the different departments, he'll most likely simply follow protocol and never bother with us again."
Elizabeth cocked an eyebrow at that. "Pretty harsh rules, don't you think?"
Harry shrugged. "I've seen worse. There was this one general in Spain, back when I was a simple lieutenant—the man simply listened to my superior for a single sentence before declaring the meeting unfit for his attention and leaving."
Elizabeth gasped at the anecdote. "How disrespectful!"
Harry shrugged, snickering at the memory. "Actually, most of us agreed with the man. Lieutenant-Colonel Miles was a spineless, cowardly suck-up. His failure to initiate the meeting, let alone give a proper greeting, was all the brass needed to kick him out."
Elizabeth giggled at Harry's description of the man. "You're horrible!"
"I'm realistic," countered Harry with a smug grin. "The poor man was so much of a parasite, even the men he sucked up to couldn't stand him."
"What happened afterwards?" asked Elizabeth, thoroughly enjoying the story.
Harry chuckled and, completely unconsciously, went to sit on a nearby cushioned chair. It was odd how comfortable he felt with the Queen, despite the supposed detachment he should be feeling. "Would you believe it? Miles managed to get himself back in the Army by sucking up to some general who'd just gotten promoted."
"And?"
"Well," Harry said laughingly, before remembering what came shortly afterwards. His chuckles slowly died down after that.
"Halifax?"
"We got reassigned to India," Harry continued quietly, his face paling quickly. Elizabeth was shocked as the humour left his eyes, replaced by something else. Something she could only describe as traumatic terror. "W-We…" he swallowed as shakes began to take over his body.
"Harry?" she asked concernedly as she got up and came over, laying a comforting hand on his shoulder.
"P-Please, Your Majesty…please don't make me say what happened…" Harry pleaded. "I don't want to remember"
Elizabeth was, for once, truly shocked speechless. Here sat the most charismatic, powerful warlord in her service, and he was practically going through a mental breakdown just from the thought of his assignment in India. What could possibly have gone so wrong that it would still cause, nearly a decade after, such emotional trauma in her greatest general?
"I won't," she reassured him as his shakes got stronger. He looked about ready to have a fit if she said yes. "Not until you're ready."
Harry nodded thankfully before shakily getting up from his seat and bowing somewhat awkwardly towards Elizabeth. "I-I should withdraw for the night, Your Majesty," he said, somewhat troubled by how quickly he'd lost his composure as the memories were brought back. "Good evening,"
Elizabeth was barely able to return the politeness when Harry swivelled on his feet and left the room, leaving Elizabeth speechless at the Field Marshall's actions.
She'd never before seen the man act so…human. What she'd seen had not been some sort of improvised acting, she could tell. This was real, definite terror. The man was haunted by whatever it was that happened in India, and his brain had repressed it so much under layers of terror and fear that the very conscious thought of them made the normally fearless man quiver.
What in the blazes had happened in India?
The next day, Elizabeth found Harry acting completely normally, much to her surprise. Not a single thing about his demeanour showed how close he'd come to breaking down the previous day.
The meetings, for their part, went well, in both hers and Harry's opinion. There was some argument, of course, but coupled with Harry's knowledge and eloquence, and Elizabeth's own charisma, the Imperial duo managed to diffuse any situation to their favour; something that their hosts only realized after the meeting was over.
The only glitch in the program had been their meeting with the Imperial military brass, who'd looked far too interested in the Assault Ship technology to be passed off as harmless curiosity. While the Japanese had known all about the air battles, they'd been unable to build any due to their lack of plans and available theoretical knowledge, which could have then been passed on to their own Magical community. Instead, the Japanese had resorted to a strictly defensive policy regarding the Assault Ships, creating massive anti-air cannons which Harry had no doubt could bring down one of his ships with a couple of shots.
Still, the possibility of engaging the two Empires in an alliance had brought out their desire for the Assault Ship technology, and Harry was wary of unleashing yet another fleet over the Earth. It was bad enough that the Americans, the British Empire, and the Death Eaters had them, which in and of itself had caused swathes of destruction across the globe, and so the Field Marshall was very cautious about letting out the technology any farther.
The Japanese, however, were undeterred by Harry's reluctance, stating that it would be viewed massively unfair for the British Empire to end up winning the war and have the only Airfleet on the planet. They'd also threatened to remain absolutely neutral in the conflict, and hinted at the passing of laws that would prohibit trade between the two in order to not provoke the Death Eaters. Though Harry knew the Death Eaters and the Japanese hated each other already, he, and by association, Elizabeth, knew that they were reliant on food imports from Asia mainly, and so gave in eventually.
He did manage to keep secret some of the technology, however, and simply gave the Japanese the theoretical portion of it. He would let them design the rest.
For some reason, the brass' huge grins at the news disturbed him.
The rest of the meetings, on the other hand, went along fine. Elizabeth had a blast during the luncheon hosted by the British Liberation Front, most of whose members were either expatriates, or hopeful immigrants who wanted to become part of the Empire. Thus, they were all very attentive to the Queen, while some of the group's leaders discussed official business with Harry.
"All I'm saying, gentlemen," Harry repeated as he swirled his drink. "Is that immediate immigration is going to be very tricky. Nova Britannia isn't big enough to handle the numbers you're suggesting. For us to be able to accommodate that many arrivals, we would need to build another artificial island, and that takes about nine months."
"We can wait nine months!" assured one of the leaders fervently. "We just wish to go home!"
Another of them nodded eagerly. "Japan is nice, and the people have been kind to us, but it isn't our land! We're guests here, nothing more!"
"I understand your concerns, gentlemen," Harry assured them. "However, bear in mind that even if the new island is built, the immigration process is not included within that timeframe. Due to security concerns, we've needed to raise the standards a bit higher."
"What does that mean?" demanded another of the leaders—this one the representative of the Magical sector.
"It means, good sir, that while the Ungifted might not find many barriers, the Gifted sectors, with the exception of those Loyalist families whose record of loyalty is unblemished, may find their immigration more…harsh."
The implications of Harry's statement were not lost on the group of BLF leaders, some of whom paled. A couple, however, reddened in indignation.
"That's racism!" hissed one of the few who were outraged.
"It's necessary," countered Harry calmly, though his eyes flashed in annoyance. "The last traitors to the Crown were all Gifted and we've no assurances that the Death Eaters haven't placed sleeper cells within the expatriate Gifted community."
Many within the group seemed to agree with this assessment, though mostly reluctantly.
"We can't say we didn't see this coming," noted one of them sorrowfully. "Rebellion does have its consequences."
"Aye," agreed one of the more aged leaders as he stroked his beard. "Surely, however, there will be levels of harshness involved within the Gifted immigration process?"
Harry nodded as he sipped from his cup of wine. "Indeed. Ungifted-born members of the Gifted community will be granted more leeway, as will those of one Gifted parentage. Those with a history of pure Gifted parentage, however, will be dealt with the harshest."
"Purebloods, you mean?" checked one of the younger men. Harry nodded.
"We've changed the terminology to avoid the use of 'blood'. We believe it makes us more civilized than the Death Eaters if we admit that the Gifted are just that—gifted, whereas part of the community they make up aren't."
Nods of acceptance ruled the group as they agreed this was a wise course of action.
"How come you haven't been brought under fire for your heritage, then?" asked one of the more irritated leaders. Harry correctly guessed the man was from pure Gifted parentage.
"I was, actually," replied Harry calmly, much to their shock. "As Her Majesty's Head of the Armed Forces, I was put under more scrutiny than anyone else. In fact, there was talk within Parliament to have me replaced by either Admiral Staples," here they shuddered at the thought. "Or General Sulu, while I was being tested."
"But you're the one who's been closest to victory against the Death Eaters!" protested one of the men. Obviously, he'd been a fan of the Northern Duke. "How could they ever suspect you?"
"Dumbledore defeated the Dark Lord Grindelwald in nineteen forty-five," noted Harry absently before taking another sip. "We never suspected him to be disloyal until he captured those five hundred men in the name of the Ministry of Magic."
That shut up the outrage. None of them could think of anything to say to that, while Harry simply observed them calmly and took a sip of his wine now and then.
"Any more questions, gentlemen?" asked Harry eventually. The leaders shook their heads in the negative, making Harry smile tightly and incline his head respectfully. "Very well then, good sirs, I pray you'll excuse me, then. I must go and check up on Her Majesty."
With that, Harry excused himself from the group and went up to Elizabeth, who was cheerfully laughing as she was entertained by the BLF women's gossip.
The meeting with the Judges also went well, with Harry explaining himself to their satisfaction on the issue of harsher immigration laws for the Empire. A few of them were more reluctant to agree, but all of them conceded, in the end, that the new rules were, in fact warranted and justified.
What had the two Imperials nervous, however, was their final visit. Finally, it was time to meet with the Emperor of Japan, the true ruler of the Japanese isles, much like the Crown had truly ruled over the British Empire.
It was two nervous, but outwardly calm people who walked up the many steps towards the Imperial Throne Room.
The Throne Room, Harry found, truly lived up to its fame and was a magnificent show of the Japanese's wealth. The very throne glittered as if made of gold, and Harry could see a giant ruby at the top of it, directly above the Emperor's head.
Harry bowed low, while Elizabeth merely nodded courteously. As the Queen of the British Empire, the Emperor and Elizabeth held equal hierarchical status. Even so, however, most of the courtesans looked on aghast as Elizabeth did not bow low.
For his part, however, the Emperor looked amused, and indeed, intrigued by Elizabeth's passive defiance of the traditional submission. He'd started contemplating simply keeping this as a courtesy call after he heard how reticent the Imperials had been about the Assault Ship technology, but now, seeing the fiery redheaded Queen openly, if silently, make her claim of equality to him, he was quickly reconsidering.
"Welcome to Japan," he greeted them solemnly, his head obscured by the shadows of the canopy above his throne.
Elizabeth smiled at the shadowed figure of the Emperor. Despite the canopy, she could still see his white gloves and black tunic.
"We are honoured to meet our cousin in Royalty," she replied.
Harry, for his part, slowly rose until he was straight-backed once more.
"I have been told," noted the Emperor with a distinct Japanese accent, "that you were rescued from a prison. Is this true?"
Elizabeth barely winced at the memory, but managed to keep her cool as she nodded. "We were, milord. It is not a pleasant memory we hold dear."
Harry watched as a slight movement within the shadows told him the Emperor had nodded. "Indeed not," he replied shortly. He then remained silent for a moment, before turning his head towards one of the attendants. "What are you waiting for? Do you not know how to treat our Royal cousin? Have you no manners? Find a seat for our honoured guest!" he barked.
Quickly, a seat was brought for Elizabeth, on which she sat, as Harry stood next to her, face impassive.
Once properly accommodated, the Emperor continued. "I was wondering," resumed the Emperor, "Whether you could elaborate for me the situation with your little war."
Elizabeth nodded at the Emperor. "Of course." She then turned to Harry slightly and gave a short nod.
Nodding back, Harry dipped his head respectfully towards the shadowed Emperor before beginning his explanation.
Harry bared no detail as he lay the facts before the Emperor. He told him of the Imperial Army's reactivation in 1994, its low manpower during the years between 1905 to 1994, and the battles of Diagon Alley and Serpent Fortress.
Upon further prodding, however, Harry was convinced to divulge the details of the battle over Canada, and then the events that occurred after the fall of Great Britain. He was also forced to admit that he was a widower, and had lost his entire family to the Death Eaters. That was when the Emperor had stopped him, sounding pensive.
"Strange," drawled the Emperor as he stroked his chin. "For I have heard the name Potter before."
"My father, no doubt, Your Majesty," guessed Harry. "He was one of the Imperial Governors for a while."
To his surprise, however, the Emperor dismissed that notion with a wave. "No, far more recent…" he mused. He then barked a short command in Japanese, which had one of his attendants scurry forward. After having a rapid conversation with the man, he sent him off before turning back to Harry. "I thought as much," he mused. "I have heard of a Potter before."
Harry suddenly felt himself take in a deep breath and hold it. Hope began to fill his mind, battling with his rational doubt. No one had specifically confirmed their disappearance, after all…No! There was no way they could have survived such an attack!
But what if they had?
Slowly, Harry asked the Emperor. "What is this Potter's name?" asked Harry, his voice tremulous and desperate. Unconsciously, he'd even taken a step forward, causing Elizabeth to look up towards him with a look of compassion.
The Emperor smiled toothily—a fact that became obvious as his pearly-white teeth shone in the darkness.
"Ginevra Potter."
Harry felt himself stumble backwards, as if someone had slapped him hard.
"G-Ginny Potter?" he asked, shaken and ashen faced.
The Emperor nodded from within the shadows. "Ginevra Potter. She was an attaché for one of the diplomatic missions a few years ago."
His Ginny, a member of a diplomatic mission? Something in that didn't ring right for Harry, so he unconsciously narrowed his eyes. "That doesn't sound like her…" he observed coolly. "What exactly was she doing?"
The Emperor nodded in satisfaction as Harry questioned his statement. His courtesans, however, seemed outraged, while Elizabeth looked on amusedly. Obviously, she was used to the Field Marshall's attitude.
"Officially? She was one of the diplomats' secretary," drawled the Emperor. "However, she was also a spy. A very impressive one, too. We only ever realized this fact after she left."
Harry raised his eyebrows in happy surprise. That sounded more like his disappeared wife.
"She was very charming," recalled the Emperor fondly. "A true vision of beauty, much like your Queen, if a bit sadder," he added as he glanced at Elizabeth, who blushed prettily but kept herself impassive. "May I ask what your relation to her is?" he asked, curiously.
Harry gulped. If she was who Harry thought she was, then this changed everything. "If she's who I think she is, Your Majesty…" he started tremulously. "She is my wife."
Harry could practically hear the eyebrow rise. "Truly?" asked the Emperor with some excitement. "You are the spouse of the—" here he spoke an unfamiliar word, which Harry assumed was Japanese.
"I'm sorry?" asked Harry.
"My apologies. I did not realize I had switched to the Mother Tongue," apologized the Emperor. "It translates into the Lioness."
'How appropriate,' Harry thought wryly. "That certainly sounds like her, Your Majesty," Harry said.
"But I thought you were a widower?" there was a note of challenge in the Emperor's voice.
"So did I," admitted Harry, sadly. "All reports from Britain at the time led me to believe she, and the rest of my family, had been wiped out during the initial coup."
The Emperor nodded pensively. "It is fate, then," he declared at length. At both Elizabeth and Harry's curious looks, the Emperor elaborated. "It is only fitting for the Lioness to be married to Britain's Lion."
Elizabeth couldn't help herself. She giggled.
Harry's neck spun so fast towards her that she swore she heard it snap. He was looking down incredulously at her, but was further shocked when the Emperor let out a chuckle along with Elizabeth's next giggle. Before Harry and the rest of the court knew it, the two sovereigns, rulers of huge swathes of land, were howling in laughter. Some of the courtesans tried to emulate the laughter, not wanting to look bad, but Harry simply stared in shock at his sovereign, as did most of the level-headed Japanese officials with their own.
Regaining his composure soon, however, the Emperor allowed a rare smile to light up his face as the shadows seemed to recede. Harry watched with awe as slowly, the shadows moved upwards, until none remained under the canopy, revealing the middle-aged face of the Emperor of Japan.
The Emperor had high cheekbones and a pointed nose, giving him a distinct aristocratic air. This was further enhanced by the Emperor's padlock beard and topknot. He was, however, wearing an entirely Western black tunic, as well as black gloves. Seeing Harry and Elizabeth's impressed looks, the Emperor allowed a smirk to come through.
"It is called Shadow Magic," explained the Emperor. "I daresay that your wizards would call it Dark."
The subtle challenge was not lost on either sovereign or subject.
"We hold no position against the Dark," stated Elizabeth. "Only those who would use it to deal evil, horror, and devastation."
The Emperor looked pleased at this and nodded. He contemplated his two guests for a moment before nodding again and saying his last words of the audience.
"We can discuss an alliance."
By the time the Imperial duo had left the country, the two were mentally and physically exhausted. The Emperor, as it turned out, was considered a master fencer among his peers, but only in the traditional Japanese art of kenjutsu. When he'd heard that Harry was considered among the best fencers in the Empire previous to the Empire's fall, he'd insisted on a match, in order to see which style was better—European or Japanese.
In the end, it took well over fourteen bouts before the two had managed to even land a hit, with both of them ending up hitting the other's off-arm. By the twenty first bout, the two had landed what would have been a mortal blow at the same time, leaving it at a draw. Harry, however, had no doubt that the Emperor was holding back, as he was. Had this been a battlefield, neither man was sure whether they could win against the other.
It was amongst much gasping, then, when both men exchanged swords as a sign of respect and appreciation. Harry now had in his possession one of the Emperor's personal katana, while the Emperor now possessed the Iron Duke's magic-hardened, ornate, steel rapier.
For Elizabeth's part, however, what exhausted her most was the many outdoor activities that the Emperor's wife and concubines seemed to enjoy. She'd had to fight off her feminist impulses as she'd found out about the Emperor's polygamous nature, but had nonetheless managed to make a rapport with the women. However, the mind games that the Imperial Court seemed to enjoy so much had drained her mentally as well, as she had to continuously avoid and/or deflect the subtle hooks that the women would drop in mid-conversation in order to get any bit of information. She'd slipped several times, but Harry had later reassured her that nothing she'd divulged had been critical.
Still, the two had managed to deal with the mysterious and subtle nature of the Imperial Court, and so were now well on their way to their next stop.
The Confederacy.