Working as a police officer in Mexico Chapter 1874: 807: Every Era Fades Away

Capítulo 1874: Chapter 807: Every Era Fades Away

“This…” The Queen looked up, her face pale, “This is a treaty under duress. No, it’s a surrender docunt.”

“It’s the only way to avoid a financial panic and nationwide unrest tonight, Your Majesty.” The Pri Minister’s voice was hoarse, “The Bank of England reported half an hour ago that another two North Arican hedge funds have started aggressively shorting the British Pounds. Birmingham police warned that protestors inside the city hall might attempt to march on London in the next 48 hours. They’ve sohow got fuel for several buses…”

“So we’re just going to agree to this?” The Queen pointed at the docunt, “Admit that even our own country’s referendum frawork needs foreign acknowledgnt? And then take our… take part of the United Kingdom’s territory for negotiation?”

Graham spoke up, his voice deep: “Your Majesty, the xicans don’t want to occupy the Great Lakes Region. Intelligence analysis shows what they want is a legal ‘transfer of sovereignty’ and ‘permanent demilitarization,’ then to create an ‘international cooperation demonstration zone’ led by them for developnt. This is slightly… more palatable than direct territorial annexation. Moreover, it’s not an area we firmly control.”

“More palatable?” The Queen repeated, a barely restrained fury and sorrow in her tone, “Graham, are you choosing the color of wreaths for the Empire’s funeral?”

Graham lowered his head.

The Pri Minister took a deep breath: “Your Majesty, we have no choice. Accept this and Scotland might remain in the United Kingdom as ‘highly autonomous’; this is the best outco we can strive for, at least maintaining formal unity. Reject it and next week, we might have to declare a national ergency, deploy troops on the streets, watch the British Pounds beco worthless paper, supermarkets looted, then Scotland, Northern Ireland, Wales successively declare independence… Then, we lose more than just face.”

The Queen walked to the window, turning her back to them. Outside, the garden showed early signs of spring, but she felt only a piercing cold.

She recalled her father George VI, during the toughest tis of World War II addressing the nation: “We might face dark days…”

But then, the darkness was external, and they could unite.

The current darkness was internal, stemming from three hundred years of accumulated greed, arrogance, neglect, and injustice. From a patient avenger waiting in the shadows and seizing the mont.

“Tell the xicans,” The Queen spoke without turning around, her voice restored to calmness but it was the dead silence after all emotions were exhausted, “The terms can be negotiated. But Article Three, negotiations on North Arican territory must occur ‘after a clear referendum result’. And, the negotiations must have the United States participate as observers—if they can still send anyone.”

“Article Four, in the United Nations vote, we can abstain but will not publicly support. This is the bottom line.”

She paused: “Also, in my na, invite the Pri Ministers of Canada, Australia, New Zealand… No, ask them to send Royal Family representatives, to co to London as soon as possible. I need to speak to the Commonwealth.”

The Pri Minister and Graham exchanged a glance. The Queen was preparing a retreat route. If the United Kingdom could not be preserved, at least the Commonwealth, this loose organization symbolized by the Royal Family, might still retain so influence.

“Yes, Your Majesty,” The Pri Minister quietly responded.

“Leave.” The Queen still did not turn around.

After they left, the Queen stood alone at the window for a long ti. She took a small photo fra from the drawer, inside was a picture of her and Prince Philip in their youth, with Malta’s brilliant sunshine as the background. At that ti, the Empire, though scarred, still retained its residual power.

She gently stroked the glass of the fra.

“I’m sorry, Father,” she murmured, “I couldn’t keep everything you entrusted to .”

Tears finally fell, silently dripping onto the Victorian Era carpet.

March 18, 1997, Birmingham, Victoria Square

People.

As far as the eye could see, there were only people.

The square itself could no longer accommodate the crowd, which spread into surrounding streets, occupying all space in front of city hall. Banners rose like a forest: “Demand Democracy, No More Royals!” “Our Sweat and Blood, Their Palaces!” “Scotland is Fighting, What is England Waiting For?!”

Sarah Kent stood on the second-floor balcony of the city hall, holding a gaphone, her voice already hoarse but full of strength. Below her was a mass of people, estimated at over fifty thousand and still increasing. Groups from Liverpool, Manchester, Leeds, and even London sent representatives to show support.

“They tell us to be patient! To obey the law! To trust in Parliant!” Sarah shouted into the gaphone, “But what do we see? Parliant passed a bill to increase funding for the Royal Family! Passed a budget increase for the troops sent to Scotland! Passed a bill cutting our schools, hospitals, and pensions!”

“To hell with patience! To hell with obeying the law!” The crowd erupted in a tsunami of anger.

“Today, we stand here, not to ask, but to declare!” Sarah’s voice spread through the speakers set up around the square, “Declare Birmingham’s people, declare England’s people, no longer accept a system ruled by a minority from London, serving a minority from London! We want a truly elected, accountable governnt of the people! We want to reclaim our wealth and dignity!”

“Now, I announce—” She took a deep breath and shouted with all her strength, “The ‘England People’s Assembly’ Temporary Committee, is officially ford! We will draft the ‘Charter of People’s Rights’, organize an England-wide referendum, we will decide our own future!”