June 14, 1916
The state funeral had occurred just two days prior. A long and carefully organized procession was put on, with flags and marching and regalia in as magnificent a fashion as could have been done. The only way that His Majesty, George V, could be honored by his nation before going to his final rest at St. George's Chapel.
Britain had lost its King. Albert had lost his father.
The twelve days prior to the funeral had been some of the most trying in Albert's life. After the clash in the North Sea and the return to port, Albert had been admitted into a naval medical facility. He had sustained a particularly heavy blow to the head during the battle along with some fractured ribs, all of which were exacerbated by his preexisting medical condition.
But his injuries had been the last thing on his mind. All he could think about was what he had seen. What everyone in the Grand Fleet had seen during the battle. And yet, no one had talked about it. Apparently Admiral Jellicoe, once he had emerged from his catatonic state, had ordered that no one speak of it for the time being, pending a report to the First Sea Lord.
But Albert knew better; this changed everything.
There were times during his stay in the hospital that he wondered if he had imagined the whole thing. That it had been the blow to his head that caused him to imagine a black dragon swooping in and unleashing Hell upon the British fleet while at the same time protecting the Germans. But Albert knew what he saw. He saw the damage done to the ships. Saw the dragon's blood stain the deck of the Collingwood. Saw the after-action report on the casualties and cause of deaths; Captain Ley had gone through the trouble of providing him with a copy of the report, since he too knew what he saw. Every man among them knew what had happened, even if they refused to acknowledge it.
He had been released from the hospital two days ago to attend the state funeral. He wore his naval officer's uniform as the procession made its way through the streets of London. It was the first time he had seen or spoken with anyone from his family since they arrived back in port. His mother had been inconsolable, and his younger siblings were more numb to it than anything else. John in particular seemed utterly confused as to what was going on, and on his birthday no less. Albert's heart ached for his youngest brother as much as it did with everything else.
Albert had seen His Majesty during the procession, but had not spoken to him. He did not know where to begin, and he suspected that David - or rather, King Edward VIII - didn't know either. His face had been stoic, eerily calm as they watched their father be laid to rest. He had been done up in full regalia befitting of a king, despite the coronation being some time away. Albert supposed David knew this was coming, but neither of them could have expected it so soon. Especially with the war in Europe being in full-swing as it was.
Today, Albert waited outside the throne room in Buckingham Palace, awaiting his turn to see His Majesty. He had already been informed as to what this was about. Now that his brother held the throne of the British Empire, Albert would be invested with the title of Prince of Wales.
One would think, after being raised as part of the Royal Family, Albert would feel some semblance of pride. All he could feel was emptiness.
Soon enough, it was his turn to meet with His Majesty. Albert was led through the doors to the throne room, and saw him sitting in an ornate chair and dressed finely.
Albert performed the first of three bows as he approached his brother, keeping eye contact the entire time. With the second bow, his knees buckled only slightly, but that could not be helped owing to health issues. On the third bow, he could more clearly see His Majesty's face - and how pale it looked.
"Your Majesty," Albert addressed the King with all professional courtesy he could muster. His Majesty was silent for a moment, then slowly got up from his chair and began to approach the Prince. The tension in the air was high.
Then, without warning, David wrapped his arms around Albert, and the two brothers embraced.
"Bertie," David said, his voice a mix of anguish and relief.
"Hello, David," Albert responded, his voice wavering a bit, as the brothers continued to hold each other. This continued on for a few moments until David's grip became too tight for Albert's liking, as his ribs had still not yet healed.
"D-David, I just got out of the hospital..." Albert said, and immediately an apologetic David let go, saying, "Oh! I'm sorry, I didn't mean to..."
"It's quite alright," Albert said with a smile, "It's good to s-see you again."
"Likewise," David responded, "What's it been, three years now?"
"It would seem so," Albert said, "Y-You're looking well."
"As are you, even with that gash you got there," David remarked, pointing at the mark on Albert's head he received in battle, "I heard you were... quite brave."
"I did my duty, no more and no less," Albert said, holding back what he truly wanted to say about what he saw. At least for now.
David put a hand on his brother's shoulder, and the two of them started walking towards one of the room's windows.
"Much as it pleases me to see you, there is a reason I called you in today," David began, "The Empire is at a turning point, and we need the scales to be tipped in our favor once more. Now more than ever, we need to remind the world of British strength and British determination. Which is why you, dear brother, will be invested as the Prince of Wales."
"Your Majesty is most gracious," Albert began, "But... is it not appropriate for that title to be with Your Majesty's heir?"
"Under normal circumstances, yes. However, at this time I will not be pursuing marriage; one, because when I do marry I wish it to be for love, and two... well, let's just say you are one of the few people I can absolutely trust right now," David explained.
"H-How do you mean?" Albert inquired, curious and slightly anxious about what his brother was thinking.
"I didn't want to say anything before, not until we were alone," David says, scanning the empty throne room for any sign of activity. He then adjusted his position so he was standing directly in front of Albert.
"David, what is it?" Albert asked, becoming more nervous with every passing second.
With a deep sigh, David spoke, "I believe our father was murdered."
Albert stood in shock, letting David's words sink in. Murdered?
"W-What do you mean... 'murdered?'" Albert asked, "The doctors said he passed from a sickness of the lungs."
"That's what they say," David answered, "but personally I don't believe them. At least, I don't believe it was sickness that killed him. Mother said his health was in a fine state in the days leading up to his death."
"But that doesn't mean he was murdered, David. Do you have any idea how serious that accusation is?" Albert asked, and as David opened his mouth to respond, Albert continued, "Besides, if such a murder happened, what proof do you have that it even happened?"
"I don't... not yet, at least," David responded, "But I want you to think about this: our father, who was seemingly in fine health, spontaneously dies. On that same exact day, the fleet that you were with gets ambushed by practically the entire Kaiserliche Marine, and your ship barely makes it out intact. And on that day, the Grenadier Guards are utterly annihilated in an artillery strike, and I just so happen to be in Paris on leave when that happens."
Albert digested everything David had to say, and though he was following along perfectly, he was still beyond confused at it all.
"And to top all of that off, the Earl Kitchener - the bloody War Secretary himself - arrives to oversee my safe passage back here. Five days later, and Kitchener's dead while en route to Russia," David explains, his tone kept to a hushed whisper.
Albert gulped, and there was sweat on his brow by the time David had finished recounting his story. At first he had just been too consumed with grief and regret to piece it together, but now looking at it through David's eyes he had to admit that there was something terribly wrong about this.
"If I am understanding you correctly," Albert began, "Whoever killed our father, and may have killed Kitchener... wants us dead too."
David silently nodded. Albert stumbled and had to brace himself against the windowsill to keep from falling.
"This is why we need to show our strength, Bertie," David said, "It is only by the grace of God that we are still among the living. We must act, and we must act swiftly, to root out whoever is behind the plot against our family and the Empire. I suspect treachery."
Albert straightened himself up, then asked, "W-What do you propose we do?"
"For now, we keep silent," David began again, "You will take the title of Prince of Wales, though for risk of exposure we will not perform the investiture as is custom, nor will I consent to coronation until we have found the masterminds of this plot. Additionally, I want you here, in London, close to me. As long as we're both together, I suspect the conspirators won't raise a hand against us. They tried to already under the mask of war, but they failed. The death of one King already arouses too much suspicion, and it would not do well for another to die, nor his successor."
"B-But, surely, it will take more than the both of us to stop this," Albert began, "You said yourself you suspect treachery, but how do we know who are traitors and who aren't?"
"We don't. But for the time being, we keep suspicion off of us," David continued, "We are two brothers grieving the loss of their father, and are otherwise too focused on the war to question anything. I have already given approval to Haig and Rawlinson to conduct their summer offensive in France, and hopefully by force of arms we'll be able to thwart Germany and end this plot."
When the brothers finished speaking, Albert was making ready to leave, before he turned back to face the King, "Y-You said before that the Grand Fleet had been ambushed? I don't think I had told you that."
"Yes, according to Admiral Jellicoe's report by way of the First Sea Lord," David responded.
Albert paused for a second and tensed up.
"What else did the report say?" Albert asked, "In the interest of f-finding more connections?"
"Nothing seemed out of place by my reckoning, simply that a minor engagement turned into a major battle," David said, "But I'll have a copy made for your convenience. Maybe you'll pick up something I missed."
As Albert left the throne room, he knew what had transpired. Jellicoe did not report everything that happened in the battle, else he and David would have discussed it. He failed to report on the fact that, of all things, a dragon had come with the intent on destroying the entire Grand Fleet. He could understand if it sounded completely incredible and reeking of fantasy, but Albert knew what he saw. He saw it swooping down ready to-
Albert then came to a grave realization: the dragon had been sent to kill him.
If what David was saying was true, that their father was murdered and that whoever killed him was trying to get them, then this dragon had been sent to kill him. They failed, and the blood that stained the deck of the damaged but afloat Collingwood was the proof. That, and the fact Albert was breathing right now.
He had so many questions racing through his head. Where had the dragon come from? Were there more of them? How did Germany gain control over them where they would protect their own forces and attack their enemies? And what benefit did killing his father, his brother, or himself have for Germany? It would not have stopped Parliament from waging war, and it would seem in adverse interest if Germany decided that killing the British monarch was the right way of winning this war. Unless...
Unless it wasn't for Germany's benefit.
Just what was going on here?
June 21, 1916
In the French commune of Charleville-Mézières, located near the Belgian border, was the Große Hauptquartier of the German high command. Here, all major decisions concerning Germany's war strategy were conducted as political and military personnel came and went.
In the headquarters' planning room, several generals were arguing amongst themselves on recent developments. The Battle of Verdun had been drawn out into its fourth month, the Russians were gaining momentum on the Eastern Front, and the failure of the German Navy to decisively defeat Jellicoe in the North Sea were all major setbacks.
At the moment, Chief of Staff Erich von Falkenhayn could do little as his generals shouted over each other, as well as the representatives of the Kaiserliche Marine who likewise were just as furious at the developing situation.
Falkenhayn, frustrated with the current situation, looked to the corner of the room to find her still sitting there, occupying her dark little alcove while everyone else continued to argue. Just looking at her was enough to give him shudders, but he knew better than to question her support.
Everyone stopped arguing at once when the doors to the planning room opened, and in view were Field Marshal Paul von Hindenburg and his lapdog, Erich Ludendorff.
"Achtung!" Ludendorff barked, and all the lower-ranking generals and naval officers saluted the Field Marshal. All except Falkenhayn.
"What's the problem, sir?" Hindenburg spoke directly to Falkenhayn, "Have you forgotten how to salute?"
"I have not forgotten, Generalfeldmarschall," Falkenhayn began, "but I have to ask if you remember that I am your superior."
"For now," Hindenburg replied seriously, "I come from the East, where our Austrian allies stand at risk of being overrun, to request the reinforcements needed to repel Brusilov's horde. And yet, as I arrive, I hear that we are diverting more of our troops away from Russia to support the ongoing campaigns in France where absolutely nothing has changed. Is that correct?"
Falkenhayn tensed up as he said, "We have recently driven a salient into the French lines at Verdun, and at this point the agreed assessment of the General Staff is that with further reinforcements we can break their lines completely."
"And how does this account for the diversion of troops to the River Somme?" Hindenburg asked, cocking his head slightly while he did so, "Because as far as I can tell, there is no major activity on that sector. No attempt has been made to dislodge the French or the British from their positions in months. So why are you wasting resources on a place of no strategic value?"
"Because in three days, the British intend to attack and break through the Somme," came a voice unfamiliar to Hindenburg and Ludendorff. The pair of them turned to look at the dark alcove in which the mysterious woman sat shrouded.
"I'm sorry, but who are you again?" Hindenburg asked, annoyed.
"Herr General," Ludendorff began, "Is it not against military protocol to have a civilian - nevermind a woman - present during a strategy meeting?"
"It is indeed," the woman answered, "And that is why it is necessary."
Hindenburg and Ludendorff were put off by not only this woman's presence but also her sheer disrespect for the generalship.
"My apologies, meine Herren," Falkenhayn began, "Generalfeldmarschall von Hindenburg and General Ludendorff, meet Morgana Le Fay. She is French by birth but is loyal to the Fatherland."
"And what exactly is it that you do here? What are you, a spy?" Ludendorff questioned.
"Of a kind," Morgana replied enigmatically, "I am here to ensure the Fatherland's victory against the Papists and the Anglo-Saxons."
"Fräulein Le Fay has been instrumental in supplying our side with information... among other things," Falkenhayn explained.
"None of it making any bit of difference," another voice spoke up, and heads turned to find Admiral Reinhard Scheer, accompanied by Vice-Admiral Franz Hipper, as the source.
"To what do you refer to?" Hindenburg asked.
"Diese verdammte Hexe..." Scheer muttered, "she promised that we would be able to break through the British blockade, and that failed spectacularly. Now we have to take our time to resupply and construct new ships before we can even try to go at it again. Our trade ports have been barren for months and rationing is worse today than it has ever been."
"I made no promises about you being able to break through the blockade," Morgana continued, standing up from her chair and walking forward into the light which illuminated her black cloak, raven hair, and pale skin, "If you recall, I said that you may have the opportunity to break through the blockade after enough damage had been done to the Grand Fleet. The goal was to cause as much destruction upon the British as possible and leave their naval forces vulnerable to the point they can no longer go on the offensive, and that goal has been achieved. All I asked was that you sink the Collingwood and you could not even manage that."
His temper rising, Scheer stepped forward, but was stopped when Hipper placed a hand on his shoulder.
"You did not tell us that the English Prince was on board!" Scheer spat, "Do you understand how dishonorably prejudicial it would be if we had sunk it once we found out?"
"If you had, you may have won the battle," Morgana replied with her arms crossed.
"You had perfect opportunity to with that monster of yours," Scheer replied, "Not our fault your pet could not manage to do that."
Morgana's emerald eyes seemed to twitch before she smirked and said, "A minor setback. Point being the stage has been set for the next phase."
"I apologize, I must be confused," Hindenburg began, "What 'monster' are we talking about here."
"Ohhh, I almost forgot," Morgana said in an almost childlike voice, "I have dragons, just so you know."
Hindenburg and Ludendorff blinked incredulously, thinking this was nothing more than a cheap prank. They looked at Falkenhayn who gave them nothing but a stern expression as a reply.
"Do you take us for fools or something?" Hindenburg asked.
"No," replied Falkehnhayn, "As I said, Fräulein Le Fay has been instrumental in giving us much, as strange and unusual as much as it has been."
"Perhaps these two need to be convinced in some other way," Morgana replied with a mischievous grin. Hindenburg and Ludendorff's annoyance had morphed into genuine concern as to what was happening.
"Now you see me..." Morgana began, raising up her hand towards the lamp hanging over the planning table where the maps were. With a snap of her fingers, the lightbulb spontaneously combusted, making everyone jump in fright. In another moment, energy began to flow out of the socket where the lightbulb was, and traveled through the air before being "caught" in Morgana's hand. The electricity crackled and flowed between her fingers as Hindenburg, Ludendorff, and everyone else in the room looked on in terror at this fantastic happening.
"... and now I see you," Morgana replied, never once breaking eye contact with Hindenburg, who could do little to comprehend what was going on.
The energy Morgana held in her palm started to glow at a brighter intensity, and her smile grew even more sinister. She outstretched her arm in the direction of Hindenburg and Ludendorff, and without any warning the electricity shot forward.
Ludendorff, acting on instinct, immediately tackled Hindenburg to the floor as the beam of electricity struck the bookshelf behind the pair of them. Once he made sure Hindenburg had not been harmed, Ludendorff turned to face Morgana and saw her no longer having energy in her hand.
"Witch!" Ludendorff exclaimed in a fury, and he drew his Luger and pointed it at her. Before he had a chance to shoot, another wave of her hand caused the gun to suddenly fall to pieces as if it had already been disassembled.
"I prefer Sorceress," Morgana replied to Ludendorff, and in another moment most of the other officers in the room had drawn their pistols on Morgana.
"Nein! Nicht schießen!" Falkenhayn ordered, and Morgana calmly turned her head towards Falkenhayn and the others.
"Thank you," she spoke to Falkenhayn, then turned to Ludendorff as he was picking up Hindenburg, "As for you, if I wanted to hurt you both I would've done so in much worse a manner."
The room was quiet for a moment as everyone put their guns away and collected themselves.
"Now, shall we continue?" Morgana chimed in. A disturbed Hindenburg and Ludendorff resumed their places around Falkenhayn's battle maps.
"So..." Hindenburg began, "You say that the British will commence an attack along the Somme."
"Yes," Morgana told them, "They and the French will commence a five-day bombardment starting on the 24th, and once the 29th comes they will come across these points in an attempt to break through our lines. The British feel that this bombardment will weaken us and give their raw recruits an advantage."
"So what do you propose we do?" Ludendorff asked her.
"I don't propose anything," Morgana said, "I leave the strategy for you all."
Falkenhayn cleared his throat, and said, "We've set up defensive formations in preparation for the assault. Our men will be in underground bunkers waiting out the bombardment and we've redeployed the bulk of our forces to the rear defenses in the woods so we can make the British and French think they are gaining ground-"
"- when in reality you're preparing to lure and trap them," Hindenburg finished, "A very ambitious plan."
"Indeed," Falkenhayn turned to face three other generals present at the meeting, "Below, Gallwitz, you will assume command of the 1st and 2nd Armies to repel the British and French forces. Claudas, once they are defeated, you will move in with your Sturmtruppen and annihilate what remains of the British Fourth and French Sixth Armies."
"We will give all our strength and then some," Claudas answered.
"Forgive me, sir," Ludendorff spoke up, "Sturmtruppen?"
"Your past concerns on needing to break this stalemate have been considered and addressed, gentlemen," Falkenhayn addressed Ludendorff and Hindenburg, "and thanks to Fräulein Le Fay here, we now possess the technological means of doing so. We've been developing prototypes of these new weapons for months, and now we'll have an opportunity to use them in the field."
Falkenhayn laid out plans on the table before his staff. Hindenburg looked with unshaken focus on the designs.
"The first of these designs we were able to complete once we acquired technical readouts from the British," Morgana began, "The second design was a little more tricky to obtain - the plans came from America."
Hindenburg smiled, looking up at Falkenhayn, "Well sir, it looks like you may just have your victory after all. And maybe once we're done here... we can finally turn our attention East."
"Way ahead of you," Morgana spoke up, and Hindenburg faced her, "The War Secretary would have met with the Tsar if I had not... intervened."
Despite his reservations regarding, Hindenburg could not help but grin at the news of the blows, past and future, being done to the enemies of Germany. Ludendorff, however, still looked displeased with this whole situation, and still tried to wrap his head around the concept of a sorceress being the Fatherland's ace in the hole.
"Gentlemen, and lady," Falkenhayn addressed the room, "What we do, we do for the Kaiser, God, and the Fatherland."
Morgana grinned. These fools had no idea what was coming their way.