AN: Here beginneth Time Skip #2. This one will go all the way into 2030, so there's probably 2 more parts to go. I hope you enjoy it!

From the New Dawn, November 13th, 2019...

Treaty of Berlin Signed!

NBC, Berlin — Following furious negotiations that at times appeared doomed to fail, the Treaty of Berlin, as it is already being called, has finally been signed between the European Empire and the Russian Federation, hopefully marking a new era of peace for Europe, which has been devastated by years of war.

In attendance at the signing ceremony were the Emperor himself, Henry I, and his Russian counterpart, President Vladimir Zaytsev. Both men appeared congenial to each other as they signed the treaty and exchanged copies, followed by a final handshake that seemed to seal the event.

However, commentators are split as to the feasibility of the treaty.

"The treaty presupposes that both sides share the same agenda: peace in Europe," explains Dr. Carl Atwood, Dean of the College of Political Science at Imperial College in Paris. "But past events have shown that both parties are headed by belligerent heads of state."

Enrique Manrey, former Spanish Ambassador to Russia, agrees. "Both His Imperial Majesty and the Russian President have reached their current positions through warfare, and neither have made shy their reservations about the other in the past."

However, not all reactions have been negative. In fact, a recent poll found that 82% of respondents welcomed the non-aggression treaty.

"Any peace is a good peace," says Karl Hoffman, a native Berliner who says he threw a party the moment the treaty was signed. "Europe has seen enough war."

"I don't want my children to live in refugee shelters any longer," agrees Maria Pajari, a recent beneficiary of the Imperial Relocation Program. "If this treaty guarantees that, then so be it."

The sentiment is shared by a wide cross-section of the Empire, to be sure. Another poll found that the Emperor's approval ratings rose by 20% when the negotiations were announced two months ago, and then another 10% when a signature date was announced.

The news has also buoyed a battered European economy. According to stock market reports, non-military companies enjoyed a substantial bump in stock value the moment the negotiations were announced. Even now, stock values continue to rise for these companies, while military-industrial stocks have stagnated, prompting some sectors to worry about this critical industry.

"Without wanting to be crude about it, peace is bad for business," explains business commentator Paul Greywood. "We already saw a similar effect when the FCE projects were announced and oil values tanked."

Certainly, the health of the military-industrial sector has caused many to wonder what will happen to the thousands of jobs they provide. Worker unions have already threatened to go on strike throughout the Empire if the government fails to guarantee their job security.

"The only reason the Empire's around is [because] we built the weapons that defended it!" claims Michael "Mickey" Barnes, President of the Island Region's Military Workers' Alliance. "It's high time the government remembers that!"

The Ministry for Labour, for its part, has issued a statement assuring all affected sectors that the government would be working closely with these companies to aid in the smooth transition to the civilian manufacturing sector.

Liverpool, European Empire, December 24, 2019…

To say Josefina wished she was dead was a monumental understatement.

Ever since the loss of her limbs and subsequent awakening from a coma, Josefina had spent most of her days staring out the window or up at the ceiling in a constant sense of despondency. Absolutely nothing anyone tried seemed to help, either. Nurses who came to chat with her as they cleaned her up and straightened the room soon found out she was wholly uninterested in what they had to say. Doctors who expected complete sentences when they asked her about her state often found she was unresponsive, though on good days she'd give single-word answers.

Beyond the hospital staff, however, she also received visitors and well-wishers, most of whom ended up leaving and never coming back, given she ignored them entirely. She didn't want their pity. She didn't want their sympathy. All she wanted — all she dreamed about at this stage — was to die.

There were, of course, a few visitors who tried to shame her out of that — possibly thinking such "tough love" tactics would at least spark a reaction. That had been the approach of her former SIS colleagues, mostly. She hesitated calling them friends, especially as they would now inevitably gravitate away from each other.

Harry came by often as well — almost every other day, on the clock. He wouldn't say anything, nor would she, and they'd end up spending hours together in complete silence, not even staring at each other. Those visits hurt most — she didn't want to say anything first because she feared he would lash out at her for her failure to protect his wife, for failing to take down Jaeger, even while wearing a combat exosuit. She desperately wanted him to be the first to talk — to reassure her he didn't hold it against her, to hear the words "It's alright," the same way he'd told her as much when she was still a traumatised little girl in Spain in his care….it hurt to not hear him say the words. It hurt deeper than she wanted to admit.

His wife, on the other hand, was a no-show, and part of Josefina didn't blame her. She'd failed at protecting Elicia by falling prey to the Jaegers. Yet another part, however, felt outraged: she'd literally given up an arm and leg to defend her life, and the woman was now nowhere to be seen.

Others came by, too. Xeno came once — he basically stopped by to try and talk to her, to reassure her this wasn't the end of her story. It would've rang truer if he hadn't also taken that opportunity to tell her he had resigned and was leaving the British Isles for places unknown. It made any words of courage and patriotism sound hollow, and she suspected he knew that. Elsewise, he would've actually looked at her in the eyes when he said them.

Hughes hadn't been around yet, and she suspected he probably wouldn't show his face around here for a while. She owed Hughes as much as she owed Harry, but Hughes had always seen her as little more than a pawn in the chess set. He didn't even have to tell her as much: she knew. And, if she was being entirely honest, there was a part of her that suspected that he'd had a hand in the debacle in Brussels. It wouldn't have surprised her at all if he'd been trying to kill both her and the Queen — probably in some attempt at turning the object of their mutual admiration, their king, to his line of thinking.

She'd been stupid to trust him, she realised in retrospect. With the Empire newly formed and Elicia still very much alive, she suspected Hughes would be slowly set aside as reconstruction took over. On the occasions she watched television — courtesy of nurses who were desperately trying to get a reaction out of her — she passively watched as the news turned from details of warzones to the more benign and cotidian, like crime, scandals, politics, business, etc…

It was honestly both nauseating and something she greatly envied. She wished she could be there, enjoying the fruits of the newly obtained peace. She wished she could go to a park and just bathe in the sunlight in a sundress.

It was impossible now, of course, and not just because of her new disabilities.

As much as she daydreamed about being out there, and not stuck on this hospital bed, she knew she was hardly well adjusted enough to return to civilian life. She'd spent so much time in the field and betraying people for the Northern Sun that she wouldn't even know how to manage a casual relationship, much less a friendship.

The more she thought about it, the more depressed she became.

What would she say? What interests did she have? For the life of her, she couldn't name a single show she watched on TV religiously, like she knew the nurses did. She didn't have a favourite sports team, or even a favourite sport. Sure, she'd claimed love this or that over the years, but it was always part of a cover.

It was times like this that she realised she was barely even a person at this stage.

"Heyo!"

Josefina closed her eyes in an attempt at keeping her temper in check. There was one group that kept visiting that seemed to enjoy getting on her nerves. It was, honestly, the very last group she'd ever expected to see visiting her.

"Will you shut the fuck up, King?!" barked a familiar female voice. "This is a hospital, for fuck's sake!"

Pot calling the kettle black, Josefina thought irritably as she watched the members of Fireteam Guardian file into her room. She didn't even know how they'd gotten their hands on her location, or even her status. Whoever had filtered out that information was going to get a bomb strapped to their car — she swore it.

"Sorry about the noise," Ford apologised to her as he deposited yet another bouquet of flowers onto her bedside table. She didn't know why they bothered — it wasn't as though Josefina was all that enthused about flower arrangements, even though she'd needed to get certified in ikebana for one assignment.

"Your chart looks pretty good!" the medic, Alice, noted from the foot of her bed, her hands expertly scrolling through the information on the datapad. Josefina knew she was just trying to be upbeat, but they both knew her comments amounted to very little — even if she was in peak health, Josefina's physical disabilities would force her into a very difficult position. "Says here you should be out in a month."

True, and it was something Josefina honestly dreaded. Her injuries may have healed, but she had no idea how she'd survive on her own out there in the world.

"That's great news!" No, it wasn't. "We should celebrate!"

Some part of her appreciated what the group was trying to do, but most of her just couldn't be bothered to care. She'd only interacted with Fireteam Guardian personally the one time, during the very operation that gave them their designation. Sure, she'd been personally involved in getting their rescue in on time, but she'd just been doing her job. Nothing more.

She suddenly felt a weight near her leg stump, and watched blankly as Buchanan grinned at her. "What'cha say? Up for a party on the day you get out?!"

Josefina wanted to shout at them to get out, but again couldn't find the will to do it. It was the same as always — they'd visit, make a loud mess, and then leave once they had their fun. They'd even taken to filling in for her silences with made-up answers — usually provided by King of all people.

"Sorry about her," Bergstein apologised as he physically lifted the petite woman off the bed, ignoring her outraged squawk.

"But you know, a party might not be a bad idea," McNamara opined from his place by the window. She barely graced him with a glance. "Should be good to lift the spirit."

Oh, how she wished she could snap at him, to shout at him for being so thoughtless and annoying. In fact, how she wished she could tell all of them that she didn't want their company — that she just wanted to be left alone to die. She was going to anyway once she got out. If her inability to navigate the world didn't do her in, she knew she would do it herself.

"Hey."

The call had been so soft she barely heard it. Blinking away her dark thoughts, she was surprised to see the room was empty, save for Alice, who was sitting at the end of her bed, looking at her in open concern.

She averted her gaze to the side, having no desire to talk to the team's medic. Whatever platitude she had to say, Josefina didn't want to hear it, and she'd probably heard it from a thousand other medical orderlies and doctors.

"Two years ago, I thought about killing myself."

Josefina's thoughts skid to a halt. She turned to look at the usually cheery team mascot and saw the woman's gaze remained steady, though the shaking in her hands was impossible to miss, no matter how much she tried to keep it under control.

"Remember Guardian?" Alice asked her, continuing the conversation by herself.

Josefina didn't answer, but the recognition in her eyes probably answered the question clearly enough. Of course she remembered Guardian — it'd come just short of a total clusterfuck thanks to some quick negotiating with Delacour's resistance cell. Still, Alice's team had come out as giant goddamn heroes.

"That moment, just before the Frenchies came to save us," Alice recalled, her eyes unfocused as she relived that particular memory, "I thought that was the end. That Sarge and us would get captured, that they'd do to us what they did to the Queen. I didn't want it to happen. I didn't want to end up in their hands."

She looked down, her shame apparent. "I had all these morphine syrettes on hand. Ready to go. No pain, no nothing. I would've just...gone to sleep and never woken up."

Josefina couldn't help but stare at the young woman. Alice had always been the spark of the group — maybe not the funniest one, or the most badass one...but she was the most normal of them, and possessing a personal energy that made you want to be happy like her. None of that was apparent on the young woman now, who looked like she was on the verge of tears.

"Then," her voice broke for a moment as the emotional weight of her confession hit home. "Sorry, then, when the war ended, and we got a chance to leave the army, I thought about it. I really did. We'd almost lost Bear, Snap had nearly gotten herself killed...Wasn't a day that went by when I looked in the mirror and didn't see myself blowing my brains out. I had to get out."

She sighed, folding her hands on her lap. "But I decided to stay. My friends needed me. Sarge got me to go to a shrink, but I still stayed on. Then we started hearing about problems in the Great Forest and went to investigate. Petrovsky nearly died fighting the Jaegers...I couldn't take it anymore. I tried to shoot myself four months ago."

Josefina had nothing to say, merely staring at her visitor with wide, unblinking eyes. Soldiers were notoriously reticent to share this sort of personal story. Some thought it made them look weak; others thought that no one could possibly understand what they were going through. A few just didn't want to bother anyone with what they perceived as a personal problem or failing.

Even with all the power of the Empire behind them, no one in the government had found a way to deal with this situation effectively to this day. Josefina doubted they ever would — war was not something you could easily overcome.

Alice took a rattling breath. "Sarge and Mac got to me right on time," she continued, clearly shaken by the memory of the near miss. "Wrestled the gun from my hands. Held me down until a medical unit came to take me away." She paused, looking up at Josefina. "I had to stare at each of my friends as they took me out of the barracks. Do you know what that feels like?"

Josefina had an inkling, though she conceded she had never been in that precise situation before. It was one thing to have been caught trying to kill yourself — having to face the people you'd have left behind to boot? She couldn't imagine such torment.

Alice took a deep breath before clasping her hands, which were noticeably shaking by now. "I'm sorry," she apologised suddenly. "I didn't mean to burden you with this." She looked up at Josefina's eyes. "I...just wanted to let you know that I know what it feels like to want to fade away. To put an end to all the pain and misery. I mean...I don't know your situation like you do," she nodded at Josefina's injured limbs, "but I'd be willing to listen and learn, if you'd let me?"

Any other day, any other person, Josefina would've just told them to get out and leave her alone — or just stared away and conveyed the same message. However, there was something about Alice and her story that just...just…

"I want to die," Josefina said matter-of-factly.

Alice nodded. "I know."

"I'm broken."

"You're hurt."

"Same thing," Josefina countered, looking away.

She heard Alice get up and the medic walked into her line of sight again, bowing down slightly to meet her gaze at eye-level. "No, it's not," Alice said calmly and slowly. "I'm a medic, Santos, remember? I know how bad injuries can get. I've seen men and women get worse injuries than you. Not a one of them that's broken, luv."

Josefina stared Alice down for a few seconds before lowering her gaze.

She felt her visitor's hand on her chin and let Alice pull her head up. "No one is begrudging your pain, Santos," the medic told her. "We don't think you're crazy. We don't think you're being stupid or shallow or a brat. You saved our hides. We owe you. You want to scream?" Alice asked, before suddenly letting out a shrill scream, causing Josefina to actually jump in place in surprise. Outside, she heard a small commotion before her attention once again returned to Alice.

The woman smiled. "Scream. Yell. Rant. Rage. Whatever you want to do, we've got your back. All we want? All we're asking? Don't give up," she said with finality. "Even if you don't feel the same about us, you're one of us."

Josefina felt hot, wet tears form over her eyes, blurring her vision ever so slightly. She moved to wipe them, only to realise nothing had happened, despite her arm moving — she'd tried to wipe it with her stump arm. A broken sob treacherously escaped her.

She felt Alice's hand on her shoulder and was then pulled into a hug before she could properly react.

"It's alright. We'll be here for you all the way," the medic assured her.

The metaphorical dam inside Josefina finally burst, letting all the impotent fury and grief finally take form for the first time since her initial outburst after the fight that had deprived her of her limbs.

But for the first time in so long, Josefina didn't feel like dying anymore.

From the Northern Broadcast Corporation, January 1st, 2020…

New Imperial Trade Treaty Confirmed

NBC, Shanghai — After gruelling months of negotiations, Ambassador Jeremy Lockley, representing the interests of the European Empire in Japan, announced a breakthrough in negotiations with the Empire of Japan.

"As I had always suspected, reasonable minds prevailed," the Ambassador declared during a press conference, following the announcement. "Our friends here in Japan understand the value of restarting global commerce, and what better way to do so than by enacting the Euro-Japanese Trade Compact?"

The treaty in question has caused significantly varied reactions in the business world, where some accuse Europe of strong-arming the Japanese into signing a treaty that will inevitably lead to a substantial trade deficit.

"The E.E. insists that the treaty is fair to both sides, but if you check Article 154, you'll see that it can also be interpreted to give Europe the right to flood the Japanese market, while preventing the Japanese from doing the same," argues economist Alvaro Alemán, of the University of Granada. "Where is the fairness there?"

"At the end of the day, Europe is just embracing its imperialist values once more," agrees economist Huo Ling, of the University of Taipei. "And what's worse, we're letting them."

However, not all reactions have been negative. Members of the European Business Council lauded the treaty's passage, calling it a "milestone in globalised commerce." In addition, the Japanese Economic Secretariat has praised the treaty, saying it would "generate thousands of jobs in our economy, which as we all know has been suffering from significant downturns ever since the Blackout."

Tokyo, Japan, January 6th, 2020...

"I'm afraid it's simply impossible, Your Majesty."

Harry frowned as he watched the healer before him remove the needles from his arm. Once he was done, Harry quickly pulled his sleeve back into position, trying to flex his injured hand. As before, there was far too much stiffness, and no matter how hard he tried, he just couldn't feel magic coursing through the injured appendage.

"Damnit," he grumbled.

Part of the reason he'd agreed to come to Japan had been to partake in the Eastern nation's famous healing arts. Ever since Jaeger's blade had cut into his wrist, he'd felt his connection to magic become more tenuous — the doctors back home blamed the Jaegers' blades. Apparently, during his final confrontation with Erwin, some of the blade had chipped, and before they had managed to get the chips out of him, they had already imbued some of its magic-repellant properties on the surrounding bone and tissue.

To make a long story short, his dominant, magic-wielding hand was effectively dead as far as magic casting was concerned.

That was highly problematic, as his off-hand, while still able to cast magic, was not as effective, and required much more concentration in order to work….which meant that while he was hardly defenseless, he was also more of a liability on a battlefield than an asset.

His days of leading from the front had effectively ended.

He knew his wife would probably rejoice, as would much of her court faction — it meant he would be more often at court, hearing them out and actually ruling, instead of delegating everything to Sirius.

On the other hand, Hughes' influence would crumble — it had already begun to do so. With Harry now stuck on his throne, the military was now more firmly in Neville's hands, who was in turn staunchly aligned with Elicia. Though Swift was still a prominent general within the military, he was outnumbered by the more moderate generals — Delacour, Humboldt, Wood, and Neville. This ensured that the Northern Sun's — the Empire's, he had to remind himself — policy of aggressive expansion would be curbed substantially.

"Your Majesty."

Harry grunted a confirmation as Astoria came to stand by his side and leaned down to whisper in his ear.

"There's been news from our people in China; no luck, sire."

Harry nodded calmly, though he silently cursed his luck. While he'd been here, in Japan, trying to seek treatment, he'd also hedged his bets by sending agents throughout the Asian continent to seek out alternative forms of treatment that would possibly remedy his situation. His two big bets had been China and Japan, and both had now fallen through. He had little hope for his other agents.

Harry looked up at the Japanese doctor and, with a wave of his hand, dismissed him. He hadn't heard anything important, or anything that would be terribly awkward to explain, so there didn't need to be any fuss. Once the doctor closed the door behind him, Harry stared up at Astoria.

"What else?" he asked bluntly. He found that since his magic had been cut off, his temper had begun to shorten.

Astoria took the brusque manner in stride. "The Guards in Liverpool tell me that Hughes is slowly being inched out of the Cabinet by your uncle, sire," she dutifully reported, making no outward sign of approval or disapproval. "Your absence, and your return to the throne room has emboldened his enemies in the Court Faction."

Astoria didn't need to elaborate much more than that — it was obvious she was referring to his wife, particularly. "And? What else?"

"Our armies have begun their demobilisation process, sire," Astoria reported, before turning to Harry's two other present guards and nodding at them. Understanding the unspoken command, both guards stiffened at attention and walked out of the room, leaving the Captain-General of the Imperial Guards with her master.

"Something you wanted to say in private, Astoria?" Harry asked amusedly once the door closed again.

Astoria bowed her head. "A private message from Hughes, sire," she replied. "The hunt for Riddle continues, but all indications reveal he's fled eastward, into Russia. He's asked permission to mobilise the SIS."

"That's the Director's call."

Astoria said nothing, merely staring at the ground in silence.

"...Who Hughes wants me to pressure into carrying out his order, I assume?"

"Those words were never explicitly said, sire," she replied carefully.

"But it's what he wants," Harry concluded, leaning back against the chair and tilting his head against the headrest. He sighed deeply. "His own influence in the agency is shot, now that Xeno is out and Josefina's in the hospital, so he wants me to do the dirty work. How bold."

More silence.

"Will you, sire?"

Harry thought about that for a moment. If he did, it would go a long way in proving that he was not as powerless as some believed. His name still carried monumental weight in the government of the Empire, and the people still largely supported him — albeit less intensely than before, thanks to the inclusion of conquered peoples in the polling system.

On the other hand, this was a slippery slope. So far, he'd managed to stay above the political wrangling in the civilian administration thanks to his personal focus on the military; thus, all of his influence in the civilian side of government was the result of his proxies carrying out his will. Unfortunately, the new SIS Director was one of his wife's supporters, not his. The moment the vacancy had opened up officially, she'd completely outmaneuvered him and placed her candidate in power before he could realise what had happened.

It had been the point where he'd realised that he'd been out of the political game for far too long. Before he had left for the front lines, the two factions in court had been relatively equal. They were equal no longer. While he'd been out fighting, Elicia had been slowly getting her own supporters to push out Hughes' faction.

It was both admirable and a source of a great suspicion.

"Elicia will never allow it," Harry concluded, leaning back against his chair. "Not with the peace treaty on the line."

Astoria nodded slowly, her expression speaking volumes.

"This is a new world, Astoria," Harry told her, tapping his fingers on the armrests. "And I suppose my wife has a point; the Empire is growing nicely, and without war breaking out every other year, Europe has never been safer. I would've liked to bring Eastern Europe to heel for good measure, but…" he shrugged, his maimed hand twitching slightly. "This is my daughter's world, now. Or it will be."

"You are hardly old enough to considering abdication, Your Majesty. Her Imperial Highness is but seven years old, still."

Harry smiled as he thought of his only daughter. "And yet she reminds me more and more of my wife than of myself," he mused softly.

Astoria made no comment on that, nor did she have to; both were quite aware as to the reason for this personality development. With Harry constantly away from home, his daughter had only really had one role model constantly present in her life — and it wasn't her father. Even now, as she was growing up and — finally — going to school, he'd begun to notice that Katerina had become a little more withdrawn from him. She still asked to play a lot, and she enjoyed herself, but he often found her staring at him thoughtfully.

Asking Elicia had resulted in no useful explanation. His wife insisted their daughter was merely growing up, and beginning to see things differently, now that she was being exposed to the real world.

He hadn't much liked that — it sounded eerily ominous.

Self-reflection, however, made him understand what she was talking about. As Katerina grew up, she would undoubtedly become exposed to the less than supportive members of society who didn't praise his every action, but rather resented or outright hated him. As she became more and more aware of the more questionable actions he'd committed, she would likely develop mixed feelings as she tried to reconcile those actions with the father she knew at home.

And it was tough to reconcile the idea of your father, who was willing to play "dragons & forts" with you, also being a man accused of committing genocide and waging an unnecessary war that effectively "broke" Europe.

He sighed as he palmed his face, weariness taking hold of him. Though he was but 39 years old, he couldn't help but feel twice his age. A lifetime of war and politicking had sapped much of the youthful enthusiasm he'd once possessed, and this concern about his progeny's opinion of him hardly helped the matter.

Nor did his current powerlessness.

"Director Lynne is an acquaintance of my brother, William," Harry spoke up then, jolting Astoria. "She respects him. Have a guard tell William I would appreciate his help on this."

Astoria eyed him. "Sire, would this not put you in direct contention with your wife?"

Harry nodded. "In time, as she finds out, I'm sure it will. However, an Emperor who cannot rule his house cannot be expected to rule his country," he opined, once again wondering where everything had gone wrong. "I may have lost much of my ability, but I am still the Emperor."

Astoria hesitated for another brief moment before bowing her head and leaving the room to pass on the order, leaving her charge alone with his thoughts.

"Oh, Elicia…" he mumbled as he leaned back his head against the headrest. His wife had grown increasingly distant since the Brussels Incident. Less forgiving of his absences and mistakes. There were days, now, when he shamefully admitted to no one to feeling doubt as to whether she still loved him or not.

The worst part of that realisation was that he knew he had a large hand in making things so bleak in his marriage. His constant recklessness had invited disaster after disaster upon his loved ones. It was hardly surprising that resentment would build up over these slips.

Nor did he know how best to resolve the situation. Gifts were superficial. Great shows of affection would be construed as meaningless attempts to distract from the very real problems they faced.

Talking it out seemed out of reach, considering their busy schedules. Ordering her to get over it would result in an ugly divorce.

But ignoring the problem was no better. He was Emperor, yes, but he was also a husband and a father. Elicia had stood by his side through thick and thin, and his daughter was the apple of his eye. Ignoring their problems as a family would be heinous of him — a slap in the face to everything they'd gone through together.

And yet, where was the solution? Where was the plan? If this were a battle, he'd have come up with a dozen strategies by now.

But relationships weren't like wars. There was no enemy to defeat save the problems they suffered, and those could not be solved with violence and trickery — not if he wanted to be happy.

But could he be happy? The question tormented him still. Were not Emperors and Kings, at their core, solitary beings? Was it not because they often had to commit sacrifices far beyond what people can normally stand, or even understand?

For the first time in a while, he feared the day his daughter would succeed him. His had been a life of conflict, and he was used to the ups and downs that came with such a lifetime of experience. Katerina, however, was a child of peace. For all the war he had waged, his daughter had never had to experience the sound of gunfire or bombings on a personal level. Cecilia had made sure to keep the princess away from all of that.

The closest she'd gotten to the war was the time her mother had been kidnapped.

So how could she understand the breadth of the ruthlessness she would have to possess to rule such an expansive empire? Their newest experiment in regional unification was but a few years old — not long enough for people to forget about the old countries they had once sworn allegiance to. A single slip and everything could tumble down.

A single mistake, and he wouldn't be Augustus.

He would be Qin Shi Huangdi.

August 1st, 2020….

WORLD CELEBRATES RENEWAL OF THE OLYMPIC GAMES

EUROPEAN EMPIRE HOSTS FIRST GAMES SINCE 1952

NBC, Paris — Amidst extravagant celebrations, dignitaries from around the world have come together to celebrate the opening ceremony of the Olympic Games — not held since Helsinki, 1952 — in the newly-designated Capital of the Western Provinces.

Amidst great pomp and circumstance, the Imperial Prime Minister thanked the attending nations and their representatives for their participation in what he assured he knew was a controversial moment in modern history.

"It does not escape my notice that we have gathered here today in Paris — a city that not so long ago was the centre of much discord," the Prime Minister said, before adding. "However, it is in choosing such a place to host these Games that we show detractors worldwide that we have overcome the chains of the past, and demonstrate our willingness to move into the bright future before us."

Regarding the absence of Russia, which has opted not to send a participating team to the Games, the Prime Minister has opted not to give a statement. However, the Foreign Office did release a communiqué an hour after the event, which we have duly chosen to add for our readers' benefit:

Regarding Russia's Absence From The 2020 Olympic Games

The Foreign Office, understanding the concerns of the citizens of Europe regarding Russia's absence from the 2020 Olympic Games, wishes to reassure the people of this great nation that Russia's decision to not participate is the result of lack of readiness, not hostility.

The Minister's Russian counterpart, Secretary Sukin, sent a notification to the newly reformed International Olympic Committee, informing them of this decision. That it was not circulated duly is the result of a clerical error.

The Foreign Office, of course, understands that given the recent political climate of the continent, any action may seem to forebode greater consequences. However, it wishes to assure the people of Europe, and the world at large, that the Empire does not seek conflict, nor does it foresee any conflict with the Russian Federation in the near future.

The Duke of Warwick

Foreign Minister of the European Empire

Paris, European Empire, August 21st, 2020….

"The evidence is unquestionable: Russia is gearing up for war."

"Of course it is," deadpanned Sirius as he palmed his face in frustration. "They've been gearing up for war for at least since the Blackout."

"The question is: against who?"

That was both the question, and paradoxically not the question, in fact. "The Russians are getting ready for war" had been a common trope of every cabinet meeting since the day Germany had surrendered to the ETO — product mostly of the paranoid and incessant ravings of Albert Hughes, the mastermind of much of the Empire's misery, in Sirius' opinion.

As far as Sirius was concerned, the Russians seemed perfectly content to remain within their own borders, provided they were not provoked into action — which Hughes' schemes constantly threatened to bring about. It wasn't that Sirius was a pacifist — he had supported the war with Spain. He had supported the war with France. He even supported the conquest of Italy and Germany.

He did not, however, support the idea that Russia was an inevitable enemy. Not since the day the Russians decided not to invade following the ETO's victory in Germany. That had been their most vulnerable point — the King was newly injured, his magical abilities shot — and the continent was weary of war. The Russians could've used any number of reasons to invade back then, but hadn't, and Sirius had no evidence to prove otherwise — nor did anyone else, thus far.

Sirius turned to the head of the table. "Prime Minister," he addressed his replacement formally, as befitting the position, "if I may?"

A nod was all he needed to press on. Sirius turned to the rest of his colleagues. "My friends, Russian militarisation has been a constant process of ebbs and flows for the past decade. They use their military as a means of reminding the world they are still relevant, and should be included in geopolitical considerations. Yet, despite this belligerent posturing, the Russians are also loathe to get involved in the affairs of the Empire, especially thanks to the recent agreements we've struck with the Chinese and Japanese."

Sirius raised a folder from the desk. "Our spies in SIS, as well as Military Intelligence, have compiled dozens of reports over the years, and the consensus has been resounding: there is little chance of a war breaking out in the near future. The conditions are simply not ripe."

"The Foreign Office concurs," Joshua spoke up then, the aging noble shifting in his seat. "Our diplomats have borne witness to no indicators that would suggest a war is imminent."

Sirius nodded at his old friend in thanks. Joshua had been his stalwart ally ever since the Anglo-Spanish War, and had remained a staunch supporter of the Queen's more moderate vision about the Empire's destiny.

"We have an obligation to secure the peace we have fought so hard to win," Sirius insisted to the cabinet. "The people have tired of war. They want to give peace a chance. We have a duty to listen to them."

There were a few token words of protest, but Sirius knew he had this in the bag. Ever since the Empire was proclaimed, the general European public had voted more and more towards reconciliation and diplomacy, and generally avoided war. The wake-up call had come when, in the polls, he had for the first time in years dipped under 50% in approval ratings after pushing a bill the military wanted to increase their budget.

After that, Sirius and the government had switched gears, focusing on domestic development and leaving the military to the side. While that hadn't been universally approved of — leading to a leadership challenge he lost, though his successor fared little better, leading to the current Prime Minister — over the long run, people had responded well to the initiative.

Especially the demobilised troops.

Concerns still abounded about the military and their ability to transition to civilian life after all the genetic tampering the state had conducted. However, given the impressive breadth of controls set in place, and a very deeply entrenched veterans' affairs program, for the most part they had managed to avoid the sort of cataclysmic consequences they all feared would happen once these super-warriors were released into the general public.

Combined with an aggressive pan-European development program, the Empire was well on its way to become the dominant global superpower — or at least, one of them — for the next century.

If all went well.

"That's the fourth time this week they've pressed the Russian angle," Joshua reminded him once they'd left the Cabinet meeting and had taken refuge in Sirius' office. "They're getting bolder."

Sirius poured his friend and himself a drink before passing a glass to the younger man. "It's nothing to worry about," he assured his guest. "It'll blow over, as it has every time it's been brought up."

"This smacks of Hughes," Joshua warned him after taking a sip of his glass. "He might be plotting a comeback."

Sirius chuckled. "He's welcome to try," he answered glibly. "Though I believe being in South America, heading the Brazilian Peace Conference Oversight Committee might hamper his efforts."

"We shouldn't underestimate him," Joshua insisted stubbornly. "That monster is more than capable of pulling the rug from under us at a moment's notice if we let our guard down."

Sirius sighed as he took his seat directly opposite of his guest. "He's still bound to the same laws and rules we are. He knows we're watching his every move carefully. If he steps out of line, we'll know it, and he knows we'll use it to bury him for good."

Joshua eyed him carefully. "Then you don't think there's anything to fear?"

Sirius shrugged. "We should always be on our guard around him, of course, but no, I don't think there's anything to fear from him at this time."

There was a pause as Joshua eyed him seriously before he downed the rest of his drink in one gulp. That was surprising to Sirius — his younger friend was typically more restrained in his drinking habits. The last time he'd seen Joshua act this way the ETO was on the verge of collapse due to the French uprising and simultaneous invasions from Italy and Germany. Clearly, he was quite bothered by this development.

"Relax," Sirius assured him. "I have men following Hughes' every move, and the Director is feeding us any correspondence he receives. He can't lift a finger without us knowing."

Joshua slowly nodded. "For all our sakes, Sirius, I hope so. Heaven knows that man has given us more trouble than he's worth."

Sirius couldn't disagree; for years, he'd suspected the man of deliberating causing crises throughout the continent, and the world at large, for the purpose of magnifying his importance and Harry's power. Crises beyond what they'd conspired as a group, that is. Sirius had known about SUCKERPUNCH, for instance. However, other crises had caught his attention, as they seemed far too convenient to be explained away by sheer coincidence.

It also didn't help that many of these crises seemed to deliberately target the Queen, either.

"We should've gotten rid of him years ago," Joshua complained bitterly, nursing his drink. "Excised the cancer right at the source."

"He and Harry are old mates," Sirius reminded his younger friend. "He'd never have worn it."

Joshua seemed to concede the point, however reluctantly.

"But nevermind that lunatic. How're the kids doing?" he asked as he made himself comfortable. "You know, Lizzie keeps mentioning it's been too long since we've had a good get-together."

His friend shrugged. "I'm sure my wife would be pleased," Joshua replied neutrally. "And my children are doing fine, thank you. Robert and Joshua are both about to graduate, and Elsa is finishing up her undergrad."

Sirius tried in vain to recall what the youngest child of the Bygates clan had been studying, only to mentally shrug in defeat. "Satisfactory results, I hope?" he asked instead.

"Good enough," came the short reply. "She's already applying for internships at several banks in Liverpool." The Duke fixed Sirius with a hard stare. "And yourself? Still no progeny on the horizon?"

Sirius barked a laugh. "Not likely!" he chortled. "I'm afraid dear Lizzie's time has run out on that end, and I've never considered myself to be much of a father figure to anyone, much less little me's."

"Pity," Joshua grumbled into his glass. He paused to take a swig of his drink before roughly setting it down on the corner table next to his seat. "Legacy is what matters these days. Can't be too glib about the way we'll be talked about in the future."

Sirius nodded politely, disagreeing with Joshua philosophically on that point. Rather than worry about how future generations would perceive him, Sirius was more concerned about the here and now — particularly the misery of those the Empire had all but left behind.

"Perhaps, but we mustn't be so preoccupied with the future that we miss the present, Joshua."

The Duke snorted. "You know, that Yank, Lincoln, had something to say about that."

"Oh? What's that?"

"You can't escape the responsibilities of tomorrow by evading them today."

August 31st, 2021….

2ND ANNIVERSARY OF IMPERIAL PROCLAMATION MARRED WITH SCANDAL!

TWO IMPERIAL GOVERNORS FORCED TO RESIGN AMIDST ACCUSATIONS OF EMBEZZLEMENT!

NBC, Rome — What should have been a joyous occasion has soured this year, as the governors of the Western and Central Provinces were forced to resign amidst accusations of corruption.

According to the charges, filed by the Local Communities Alliance — a grassroots organisation that supports greater decentralisation in the Empire — Governor James Pryce of the Western Province is said to have funneled government funds for local development projects into several private bank accounts kept in the United States.

Governor Margaret Dijon of the Central Province, for her part, is accused of having used government funds earmarked for the Queen Elicia Resettlement Fund for personal expenses, severely affecting the Fund's ability to make ends meet this fiscal year and shedding light on the NGO's inability to meet targets for the past year.

Both government officials have tendered their resignations in the wake of the scandal, which, according to our government source, have been accepted by the Imperial government in Liverpool. No announcements have been made regarding replacements, although a brief communiqué from the Imperial Palace does request that both Governors be investigated to the furthest extent of the law.

In other news, merger talks between NBC and the Central Province's GTV broadcaster continue amidst reports of possible intervention by the Imperial Treasury…

Moscow, Russian Federation…

"I do not envy the headache Emperor White must be feeling at this moment."

Riddle snorted as he swirled the wine in his glass. "That was the idea."

"Quite," agreed his host as he turned off the TV screen and turned to Riddle. "Though I fail to see how this minor grief advances the grand plan, other than to give them a tiny little mosquito bite. Governors are easily replaced."

"For you, perhaps, but not for the Empire," Riddle corrected, fighting down the urge to curse the man before him. It would not do well to rid himself of his patron at the moment. While the Russians had proved agreeable to his aims of bringing down the European Empire, he was also very aware of the Hammer Corps war mages that stood guard just outside the room. While he could easily deal with them, the legion of reinforcements that would swarm the place soon after was much less certain.

No. For now, he would play the good ally. He was used to it.

Riddle placed his glass of wine on the table next to his seat and folded his hands. "The Empire suffers from a crisis of legitimacy, you see. Barely two years old, most of its citizens still remember being German, French, Spanish, and so forth. I imagine a not-insubstantial amount yearn for a return to those past national identities, in fact."

The Russian man nodded before motioning to the TV. "And so this...this spectacle is meant to delegitimise the Empire?" he supplied.

"Correct."

The man snorted, prompting another urge in Riddle to kill him that he had to fight down. "At this rate, pan Riddle, I believe your plan will pay dividends by the time my grandchildren have their own grandchildren."

The more the Muggle talked, the more Riddle was reminded why he'd wanted to kill them all not so long ago. Muggles were shortsighted when it came to the subtleties of politics. They were so obsessed with their personal gain that they could never tolerate the long term plan.

"I assure you, Prime Minister Sulkin, you will be pleased with the results," Riddle informed his host before drinking from his glass. At least the Muggle had good taste. "This has merely been the initial volley. We must now allow the Empire to respond, to see how they react. Once they do, we initiate a sustained campaign of deligitimisation, aimed at undermining the institutions that keep it afloat."

"More scandals, pan Riddle?" Russian Prime Minister Adrian Sulkin asked his unofficial guest. If the Empire knew that the Russian Federation was formally hosting the British fugitive known as Lord Voldemort, neither man in the room had any illusions that the Empire's response wouldn't be swift and excruciatingly brutal.

"Among other things," Riddle answered cryptically. "It's all well and good to make the people suspicious of their institutions, but the real killing blow, as I think we've seen in the past two decades, is delivered through a person's wallet, not their politics."

Sulkin narrowed his eyes. "An economic crisis?"

Riddle nodded, prompting the Russian Premier's brow to furrow deeper.

"Anything that would impact the Empire negatively would surely bleed into Russia's markets," Sulking pointed out. "The European market is too big not to have ripple effects worldwide if it collapses."

Riddle shrugged. "You wanted the Empire out of the way, Premier. I am merely offering the most realistic option, short of a full scale war with the Europeans at their prime — a war, I might remind you, that we both know you would be unlikely to win."

A glare answered his statement. "You underestimate the Russian people's will to win, pan Riddle. You would not be the first one to make sure a grave mistake," he warned.

"Unlike Napoleon and Hitler, however, I know what I'm talking about, Prime Minister," Riddle responded simply. "You have military mages — well done, but the Europeans have you beat by at least a generation or two. With most of the European continent under one banner, they will be able to quickly fill the ranks with augmented military mages, supplemented with thousands of augmented Muggle soldiers, the latest military technology, and a ruthless leadership that isn't shy about using its military to keep their country safe. Add to that a growing, integrated economy, an active citizenry, and imperialist ambitions, and you have the makings of the next great superpower. You, on the other hand, have raw manpower, a small cadre of experienced military mages, and, as you say, the will to win. It isn't enough."

Riddle was amused to see the Russian Prime Minister's face flush in indignation. Clearly, here was a true believer of the Russian government's exquisite propaganda campaign.

"Now, now, Sulkin. Just because the truth is hard to swallow does not mean it is any less necessary."

Riddle smiled to himself as he brought up his wine glass to take another sip, even as the doors closed behind their newly arrived colleague. If Sulkin was Riddle's tacit liaison to the Russian Government, then here was the man who pulled Sulkin's strings, and by consequence, Riddle's true ally in the fight to bring down the European Empire.

The President of the Russian Federation, Dmitriy Fedulov.

"They have a saying here in our country, mister Riddle," the man said with a genial smile as he stepped into view and took a seat opposite to him. "Правда глаза колет."

"The truth hurts indeed, Mister President," Riddle agreed as he set down his glass. He was thankful he still remembered his Russian fairly well, despite the fact that the last time he'd used it was in the 1970s. "And yet, Правду говорить - друга не нажить."

The President barked a laugh. "Well said!" he exclaimed before shooting Sulkin a look. "Adrian, might I bother you for a glass of wine?" he asked mildly.

Riddle watched the Prime Minister actually pale before hurriedly nodding and practically rushing to get the President a glass. There was real fear in the man — fear that Riddle himself had not been able to elicit. It was both captivating to see, and infuriating to realise. That he, one of the most powerful mages in centuries, had not been able to cow a mere Muggle, and yet another Muggle had been able to imbue such fear was a slap in the face.

"I hope you don't mind, mister Riddle," the President said, still with that genial smile of his as he received the Prime Minister's proffered glass without a word of thanks, "but I've been listening in on the conversation while I arrived."

Riddle doubted that. Rather, he was fairly certain the President had been listening in from less than 100 metres from the room. He did not strike Riddle as the type to leave such meetings to chance. And most definitely not to the whims of traffic.

And yet, Riddle knew he had to play the game if he wanted Russia's backing. "It's quite alright," he said dismissively. "As you know, I was merely instructing the Prime Minister regarding the current status of the Empire vis a vis your country."

"And quite a bleak picture, too!" The President said with a toothy smile that seemed more predatory than amused. "And yet, it is an analysis I have come to accept as well."

"President?" Sulkin said, aghast.

"Oh, be quiet, Adrian," the head of state admonished, waving him down. "Mister Riddle and I have business to talk. Business that will make Russia strong enough that we shall never have to worry about the damned Europeans threatening us ever again!"

Riddle smirked. "Quite so," he agreed, privately wondering how best to flay both Muggles alive the moment he replaced Potter at the head of the European Empire.

His response prompted a short laugh from the President, who then proceeded to take a swig of his glass of wine in a rather boorish display. Still, Riddle could tell that this was all part of a larger act. A performance designed to promote an image of a drunkard. Yet, the gaze that met his after the display was nothing if not intelligent and predatory. Here was a man who knew what he wanted, and would stop at nothing to get it.

A kindred soul, if anything.

"I do not like your plan, Mister Riddle," the President began bluntly, still shooting him that anything-but-amused smile. "As Adrian pointed out, it puts the Russian economy at risk. The whole world's economy at risk, even. Why should I back such a suicidal proposal?"

Riddle was prepared for this, however. "You call it suicidal; I call it short-term sacrifice," he countered. "Certainly, some market fallout would result from a targeted attack at the Empire's economic structure, but if the proper countermeasures are put in place, it is nothing you could not recover from in short order."

"Countermeasures such as…?"

Riddle shrugged. "Whatever you think is best, of course," he replied simply. Riddle had never really cared for economics. He knew its power, of course — how could he not, having watched Potter and his followers create an Empire out of the ashes of countries? — but he had never really bothered to learn the fundamentals. He had always relied on Malfoy for that. Pity he was dead.

"A vague answer, mister Riddle," the President noted idly, though his tightened grip of his glass spoke volumes of his irritation.

"If you're looking for a, pardon the pun, magical solution to all your woes, I'm afraid even magic doesn't have that kind of answer," Riddle said. "I will leave the details of your country to you, while I deal with taking down an enemy I have come to understand."

"A division of labour, then."

"Correct."

"Then," the President paused to take a sip of wine, "what do you envision your next step to be?"

Riddle smiled. Good — the man appeared willing to trust his judgment...for now. "I would say that now that we've begun to strike at their credibility, the Empire's institutions will seek to rally popular support in the same way they always have — through a purge. They'll make great public shows of rooting out corruption, and make examples of the victims. The act will be visible enough to convince people that something is being done."

"And you wish to disrupt this?"

"No," Riddle countered. "I want to let it happen."

"Then what is the next step?"

"In getting rid of the skilled individual who's made it happen effectively in the past."

There was a pause in the room as both Russian officials stared at him. Sulking probably had no idea who he was talking about, but he could see the deadly intelligence behind Fedulov's genial gaze hard at work.

"You wish to kill Albert Hughes."

Riddle smiled, but Sulkin seemed even more confused. "Who is Albert Hughes?" he asked.

Riddle supposed it was a testament to the man's ability to stay in the shadows of government that Sulkin hadn't heard of him — or perhaps it was more of a sign of the small extent to which the President trusted his Prime Minister with sensitive information. Either way, the question did not reflect well on the man's breadth of knowledge.

"Someone who's been a headache for years," Riddle summarised simply. "And no, I don't want him dead. If we kill him now, he'll become a martyr. A rallying point for his faction, even if they have fallen from grace."

"Then?" the President asked, also ignoring his Prime Minister.

"I want to discredit him," Riddle said. "I want to take every bit of reliability he has away from him. It's no secret in the underworld that Hughes has enemies within the Imperial government who are just looking for an excuse to kick him out. I want to make sure they have all the ammunition they need to make it stick."

"...You respect the man."

Riddle shrugged. He wasn't about to deny that, even if it raked against his ideals. For him to admit that a Muggle was his equal was impossible — but he could admit to respecting Hughes' ruthless streak of cunning. Much like himself, Hughes was willing to burn down the world if it meant achieving his aims. In that, he felt perhaps Fedulov, himself, and Hughes might've made an unbeatable team...if they weren't destined to kill each other, that is.

"You do, too," he observed shrewdly. The President responded with a similar shrug.

"How do you plan to discredit him?" he asked instead.

Riddle smiled, raising his now empty glass. "Hughes is a creature of the dark," he said. "So it's our job to bring him into the light."

July 30th, 2022….

SECOND DAY OF PROTESTS SHAKE THE EMPIRE

PROTESTS ERUPT THROUGHOUT EMPIRE AS DETAILS OF TENNISON SCANDAL PUBLISHED!

NBC, Liverpool — After yesterday's day of protests failed to peter down as expected, the Imperial government has ordered further riot police deployed to contain the situation in known hotspots like Rome, Paris, Berlin, and Munich. Meanwhile, approximately three million protesters throughout the Empire continue to occupy national landmarks in what they call "a protest against institutionalised corruption."

The protests, which erupted a week ago in Liverpool but finally escalated into Empire-wide protests yesterday, began with the reveal of the details of the Tennison-Pearson HydroElectric scandal that rocked the Imperial government in December. Though Minister for Energy Lloyd Tennison was dismissed and subsequently arrested for his part in the corruption scheme that is said to have lost the government billions of pounds, the full extent of the corruption scheme was only recently revealed by the German Volkszeitung newspaper, who claim the information was provided to them anonymously by a hacker group known as FuR13s.

As a result of the new leak, at least seven more government officials are being charged with bribery and embezzlement under the Civil Services Reforms Act. Recent data regarding the extent of the corruption scheme has also led to revised official figures for the total embezzled funds to up to 3.5 billion pounds, distributed among at least sixteen contractor companies and other subsidiaries.

Protesters are demanding the immediate termination of all government contracts with the implicated companies and the dismissal of the implicated civil servants — demands that have already been met while investigations are underway — and the resignation of the current government, with an eye towards snap elections.

The Prime Minister, for his part, has publicly refused to resign, citing the bribery scandal as the isolated movements of an absolute minority of the Imperial government. Despite requests from the public for the Emperor to intervene, there have been no statements issued as of yet from the Imperial Palace.

The Imperial Palace, Liverpool, European Empire…

"Six scandals in three years."

Hughes sat impassively before his Emperor's desk, letting him vent.

"And not small ones, either," Sirius added from his seat opposite Hughes'. It was all Hughes could do to not roll his eyes at how gleeful his political opponent seemed. After all, it was Hughes who was nominally responsible for keeping these matters under control. For a hacker group to have pulled the lid off of so much corruption...it was unforgiveable.

"Quite," his Emperor agreed. He began tapping his desk in that nervous habit he had. "What do you have to say for yourself, Albert?"

Hughes eyed his two hosts before shrugging. "Nothing," he answered simply.

"Nothing?" parroted the Emperor, while Sirius appeared stunned at his answer.

Hughes shook his head. "Nothing," he confirmed. "I have nothing to say, my Emperor, because it appears as though those around you appear to have made up your mind for you on this matter."

Dead silence followed his words, just as Hughes had predicted it would. In one sentence, he had insulted everyone present, accusing them of making preemptive judgments.

"Careful, now," his Emperor warned tightly, the tapping stopped. "One might think you are being foolishly treacherous, Albert."

Hughes shrugged again, motioning towards Sirius. "I imagine he's already insinuated at least that I should be held responsible for the six scandals leaking out?" he asked, prompting an angry flush from said former Prime Minister.

"Not just him."

Hughes nodded. He could guess the identities of the others — especially one aging Duke. "Have they also informed you that after each scandal was made known to us, I've pushed for several solutions?"

"Of course," his Emperor confirmed, to his surprise.

"Just because we don't agree with you doesn't mean we'll silence you, Hughes," Sirius growled, crossing his arms defensively. "You are still a member of this government, whether I like it or not. That gives you the right to have your ideas heard out."

Well, that was a refreshing thing to know. Perhaps he was being too paranoid…

Nah.

"Then you should know that none of my recommendations were approved of," Hughes soldiered on, giving only a brief acknowledgement to Sirius with a nod.

"They were considered far too extreme and reckless!" Sirius shot back. "Your methods would've silenced a regional newspaper and led to massive breaches in privacy to determine the identities of the hacker group members! Breaches that would've been against the law!"

Hughes shrugged. "Fair enough, but they would've worked."

He enjoyed the increasingly reddening shade that Sirius was becoming but kept his focus on the Emperor, who had chosen to steeple his hands on the desk as he observed his old friend.

"We are walking a tightrope as it is, Albert," his Emperor pointed out. "If we did as you recommended, we would be adding fuel to the fire."

"Fire is where I thrive, my Emperor."

He nodded in return. "I know, but it is a fire we have been desperately trying to put out since the German war ended. We cannot afford more disunity. We need to keep the Empire together long enough to strangle the life out of the nationalist causes."

"Better to just snuff them out."

"And how would we justify that?!" Sirius demanded, standing up. "How would we face the people after we lay rows of bodies on their doorsteps?!"

"Sit down, Sirius."

"Harry, he—!"

"Sit. Down."

The immense power and threat radiating from the simple command affected even Albert, who felt a distinct chill running down his spine as he watched the Emperor fix them both with a hard, neutral stare.

"You are adults. Act like it," he chided them both, reeling back in his overflowing presence. "Albert, we are long past the time when we could exterminate dissident groups with violence. Sirius, you would do well not to forget that we built our empire on such methods."

"Those were...different times," Sirius protested.

"No more different than these are," Hughes weighed in. "The actors may have changed, but things are looking very much like the old days right now."

His Emperor was silent for a moment before nodding. "I...am inclined to agree."

"Harry?!"

"Think back, Sirius. We could've never achieved what we did back then were it not for the particular circumstances of that age," he reminded the older man. "Economic chaos, institutional worries, diplomatic tension, internal dissent...these were all present when we struck down the old order and replaced it with our own. Such factors are beginning to reassert themselves."

"Then...shall it be war?" Hughes asked, actually feeling somewhat hopeful for a positive resolution in his advantage now.

"Not if I can help it," his Emperor dashed his hopes immediately. He lowered his gaze to his injured hand and clenched it. "My...condition has forced me to reevaluate many things. Among those are the legacy I will leave my daughter when my time is up," he said before fixing both of his advisors with a hard stare. "We must find a way to resolve this issue without resorting to war, all the while preparing for one, should the need arise. We still have Albion to consider to the north, and the wider world at large — not just Russia. What allies we have today may become tomorrow's enemies, and we cannot afford to be taken off guard."

"Then...what would you have us do?" Sirius asked, overtly unsure where this was going. It was a feeling Hughes could empathise with right now. He had no idea where his Emperor was going with this, but something in his gut told him it would be either very exciting, or very suicidal.

Possibly both.

"Albert," his Emperor began, causing Hughes to stiffen slightly at attention in his seat. "What I will order Sirius to do will cause much public outcry, but I see no other solution thus far. The people will get angry, and we cannot afford more anger as it stands. I need a distraction."

Hughes narrowed his eyes before slowly nodding, several good hotspots around the Empire and the world at large coming to mind. He wondered how big he would need to make the distraction, though. Depending on the order, probably a small to medium sized one — one they could sweep under the carpet quickly enough.

"Sirius, I believe it is time to show the people we are serious about combating this internal issue," his Emperor continued. "Within a fortnight, I want Parliament to pass a law enabling our police and military intelligence services to investigate all persons suspected to be linked to hostile foreign parties without the need for an open court warrant. Make it sealed."

"But...but that would bar defence attorneys from accessing their clients' files!" Sirius protested, stunned as much as Hughes was. "It's a major violation of our constitution!"

Harry nodded before raising an index finger. "It would be, were it not for Article 132."

"The enabling clause," Hughes breathed. "You're going to declare a state of national emergency?!"

Sirius's jaw dropped. "On what grounds?!"

His Emperor smiled dangerously. "Have we not just heard of a sixth major institutional corruption scandal?" he asked. "I believe a major crisis of institutionality ought to be reason enough to hold nothing back when tackling such a critical issue, don't you?."

Hughes stared at his Emperor in wonder. For a brief moment, he had thought him defanged and declawed by his injury. From the looks of it, Sirius had, too. And yet, here he was, telling them he would be effectively applying the nuclear option to get around constitutional protections against the right to privacy.

And the best/worst part? It was legal.

Hughes revised his previous conclusion. He'd need to make a major distraction after all.

August 1st, 2022….

EMPEROR STUNS NATION ON THIRD DAY OF PROTESTS

HIS IMPERIAL MAJESTY DECLARES STATE OF EMERGENCY

NBC, Liverpool — To the absolute surprise of virtually every political commentator on the news circuit, His Imperial Majesty, Henry I, has finally broken his silence on the matter of the ongoing Tennison Scandal, but not in any way that was expected. In his traditional birthday speech, the Emperor addressed the matter of the scandal before announcing the steps the government would be taking. It was then that His Imperial Majesty announced the activation of Article 132 of the Imperial Constitution.

"It is with heavy heart that I do so," His Imperial Majesty said. "But in the face of the ongoing corruption scandals that have so rightfully drawn the anger of my people, I have no choice but to assume that the rot is far too embedded for normal measures to suffice. As such, it is my belief, and that of my legal advisors, that the best solution is an all out attack on the institutional corruption that has plagued us these past years."

Since the Imperial Proclamation two years ago, Article 132 of the Imperial Constitution has never been invoked, not even during the flare-ups of nationalist dissent in the Central and Iberian provinces. NBC has reached out to many political commentators for their opinion on the issue, but most have declined to comment.

"The problem is that this is unprecedented in the history of our Empire — or really, in the history of the modern age," explains Professor Bernhardt Freisler of the University of Munich — a hotspot of the ongoing protests. "Corruption has never been treated as a national emergency before; especially considering that invoking measures like Article 132 would allow the government to temporarily suspend other provisions of the Constitution deemed problematic in the defeat of the nation's enemies."

"Well, that's the problem, isn't it? Article 132 can only be used against the nation's enemies," adds Henry Kloss of the Metternich Policy Institute, a think tank based in Vienna. "By invoking it against the problem of institutional corruption, the Emperor has declared all corrupt officials — all persons engaged in corruption, in fact — enemies of the state. That sets a dangerous precedent."

Legal experts consulted by NBC have all agreed that the legality of the Emperor's declaration is not in question, although its wisdom and intent is. According to Article 132, the Imperial government is temporarily suspended while the Imperial Crown assumes complete control of the executive branch for the duration of the period of emergency, which is capped at 10 years, but which needs renewal by public referendum every 2 years. Several provisions in the Imperial Constitution, including the rights to privacy, to assembly, and to free speech, are all subject to temporary suspension at the Crown's pleasure if deemed dangerous to the nation's welfare.