Stranger Times

Storms on Distant Horizons

Albert looked tired.

No, Joseph Choates chided himself silently as he watched a throng of of men, adorned with the ornaments of a millennia of proud history, wait in a slow moving line. One at a time, each approach the high-backed, oak throne of St Edward to kneel before the most powerful man in the world. Upon that throne sat the heavy-set monarch of an empire so vast the sun was always shining upon it.

No, that man was no longer Albert Edward. By the church that he was now head of, the man on the dais wearing the Imperial State Crown was now Edward VII, King of England and Wales, Scotland and Ireland, Emperor of India, and master of all the far flung corners of the British Empire.

And he looked tired. Joseph couldn't help but see it in the way his head hung as he accepted the paths of fealty from the lords of the realm. The new king was weary. A man well past his prime, and at an age where it was hard to recover from poor health.

Edward VII, the king in waiting for forty years, was now a metaphor for his empire.

"What a king!" someone said from beside Joseph. He turned to see a simply, if expensively dressed, unassuming looking man standing beside a nearby empty seat. The simple, unremarkable dress was a sign of power. Joseph recognized it as such even before he recognized the man.

"He endured a surgery for an abscess in his bowels, we drop an empire on his shoulders, and he wears it as lightly he he wears his crown," the man explained lightly, his smile all relief and confidence.

Joseph bit back his rejoinder, refraining from pointing out that Edward VII was wearing the Imperial State Crown because it was lighter than his first choice, St Edward's Crown. Choosing silence, he smiled and looked over, surprised at who now took the liberty to sit next to him.

"Mister Balfour, Prime Minister," Joseph said, gesturing to the seat next to him. "Congratulations, by the way. I imagine you can still taste the celebratory champagne."

"Please call me Arthur," Prime Minister Arthur Balfour, barely a month into his office, took the empty seat Joseph was gesturing to. "Though I do have to say, I was hoping Mr Roosevelt would have seen fit to return and witness this."

"Officially, my busy president sends his apologies and his kind regards," Joseph replied. "But between us, he's relieved that no one outside your empire is returning. He's a tad uncomfortable about feeling too exposed during a public visit. You may recall his predecessor was assassinated just eleven months ago."

"Yes. My continuing condolences," Arthur Balfour replied. "But the world is a deeply divided place, ambassador. It would be wise to cultivate friends."

"Rosevelt had arrived to witness the coronation of an empire we were born rebelling against. Building bridges across the Atlantic is a monumental task," Joseph replied. "And more to the point, we are hesitant to stick our nose into the powder keg that Europe has turned itself into."

"Powder keg? Very droll, ambassador," Arthur Balfour laughed. "We are tightening a web of alliances into a noose around the neck of war. This will be the most peaceful century in the world's history, mark my word."

Joseph bit back the sigh of exasperation he wanted to express, and kept his face as neutral as he could. "I worry your noose is only a rope tied around an anchor. And when war starts, you'll all be dragged along," he said.

A brand new, ambitious prime minister in power just as the monarch changes hands. Given the tensions growing across the world, it was not a good time for this old empire to be run by untested hands.

"Nonsense. Our king, long may he reign, is related to every noble house from Portugal to Russia. They'll call him the Uncle of Europe before long. No, my most pressing concern for your president was to sound him out on a Jewish homeland in Palestine," Balfour said.

Joseph's eyes widened, betraying his surprise. "That's..."

"Inspired?"

"Likely to anger the only people in the world who don't currently hate the Jews," Joseph reflected. "Are you at all concerned about Wilhelm's attempts to modernize and expand the German navy? They've spoken quite publicly about wanting to rival you."

"We'll pull the rug out from under them in a few years. Jacky, excuse me, John Fisher has a plan for a new warship design, the Dreadnought. Ought to derail an entire decade of their work. His majesty is very pleased with the potential of the new designs."

It ought to set the Germans into a frenzy of nee shipbuilding, Joseph reflected to himself. Balfour's optimism, bordering on self-righteousness, was worrying.

"But can we count on our friends across the Atlantic to do the right thing, should it be necessary?" Balfour asked.

Joseph smiled, and said "are you familiar with what your colleague, Winston Churchill said of America?"

"I'm afraid I haven't memorized all of his witticisms," Balfour replied, his smile still clearly amused.

"America will always do the right thing," Joseph said with a smile.

Balfour grinned in response, and turned his attention to the ailing Archbishop as he carried on with the ceremony.

To himself, Joseph Choates added, "after we have exhausted every other option."