“An Empire, born in the mists of Time and yet reborn under the most unlikely people in the Universe. Will it ever be destroyed?”
A man, seated upon a great throne, mused.
Holy Roman Emperor was he, Daniel XXX was his name and he was the 200th direct descendant of Daniel I, the first of the Radcliffean Imperial line and maybe he himself would be the last.
At last he stood up and walked towards a huge tapestry which outlined the Imperial succession, his distant ancestor at the top, smiling down upon him and resplendent in the same robes and crown his descendant now wore, but yet he wore glasses of the round variety and a small scar seemed to show through his long fringe.
The Emperor gazed upwards and smiled, “You founded a mighty Empire and now you look down upon it from Heaven with pride.”
A voice made him turn round, “That is true my son. I am proud of this Empire and you.” The voice was a rich baritone and an English accent embellished it.
“W-who’s there?” He stammered.
Suddenly somebody appeared out of the shadows, a figure dressed in Imperial robes and with the familiar crown upon it’s head, nonetheless it was clean shaven and wore round glasses and the scar was barely noticeable upon it’s forehead.
“You, you are Daniel I!” The Emperor cried in surprise.
His ancestor looked tentatively at his hands and looked up at him, “Yes, I most certainly am.” He said in a cheerful voice.
“But you’re dead and I’m looking at a ghost.” Daniel XXX seemed frightened.
“That I may be, but you do not need to be frightened for I have come with ill tidings.” The spirit of the old Emperor replied.
His descendant looked more frightened than before, “W-what do you mean?” He quavered.
Daniel I raised his arm and a sword appeared in his hand, “War is coming, my son. Everything that you have known and loved will be destroyed. In short the Imperial dynasty that my beloved wife and I founded will fall and you are the last Emperor of them all. The throne will be usurped and you will be driven from your homeland as the last Emperor of the Imperial House of Radcliffe-Watson.” He thundered.
Daniel XXX nodded, this was indeed the ghost of his great ancestor, for he was a bad omen for his line when he appeared.
“Who’s that?” Another voice, female and also with an English accent, came from the next room.
A young woman appeared in the doorway, dressed in a pink gown and her long brown hair done up in a rather lovely way, and grinned.
The Emperor sighed. The woman was none other than the Empress Emma Charlotte, brought back to somewhat of an existence thanks to holographic technology created and perfected two hundred years ago.
Computer technicians of the time thought it would be of historical interest to bring back a past ruler and give him or her new life.
Unfortunately they chose the most infamous woman in Imperial history to bring back.
The Emperor who was ruling at the time allowed her body to be exhumed and her brain to be extracted so her thoughts and memories could be downloaded onto computer.
Then the technicians got to work, creating an holographic image that made her perpetually fourteen years old and dressed in the same gown she wore as Hermione Granger at the Yule Ball in the film “Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire”.
This was the same woman who made a civil war inevitable and mothered a rival family who still fought for the throne.
“What’s going on?” She asked in a demanding voice, “I got turned on, just for this!”
Daniel XXX snapped, “Shut up, Grandmother! You shouldn’t have been rebooted at this time of the night!”
His ancestor turned around and gasped, his eyes bulging at the sight, “Emma? I thought you were dead.”
The Empress brushed her hair back and smiled, “Daniel, you’re still as silly as you were when you were alive. I’m just as dead as you are; it’s just that I’m a hologram now. Is it you who keeps turning me on at night?”
“Yes, my dear. I want to dance with you again like we did so many years ago.” Daniel I replied and then he bowed.
“But we still dance, every night in my dreams.” She wept.
The Emperor sighed, “And you will dance, it’s so like you, Grandfather. You have now told me what you have come to say. Now please just go.”
The ancestor of two hundred generations of one family nodded and, taking the arm of his wife, disappeared through the door, his appearance seeming to change to when he was 15 and dressed in a set of long dress robes.
The young Emperor followed his two ancestors out into the ballroom, where they started to dance as ghostly music struck up a slow tune.
“Who’d have thought it?” he thought to himself, “They did genuinely love each other.”
The ancient Imperial couple slowly danced, it seemed to their descendant that they glided across the floor in time to the music.
At last the music stopped and they gently kissed before he faded away into nothingness in her arms.
The Empress fell onto the floor on her knees and began to sob.
“Every year since I returned to this wretched life, he would come and we would dance. You are the first to witness this for years.” She cried.
“Oh my, he does love you. Even in death though you had betrayed him long ago, he still loves you.” Daniel spoke, his voice choked with tears.
Her Majesty stood up, “I better go back to sleep,” she said softly, “Can you get someone to turn me off please?”
“Of course, Grandmother.” He replied.
Empress Emma turned away and walked out of the ballroom, towards her resting-place.
Daniel sighed and left for his private apartments, on the way he called for a technician to shut down the computer, in which the Empress resided, for the night.
The Emperor flopped down upon his own bed and fell asleep very soon afterwards.

The morning after, a message came from the Imperial Governor of Australia where, in Canberra, there were riots against Imperial rule taking place and Imperial forces stationed outside the city were trying to quell the disturbances.
There had been many riots and rebellions in states ruled by the Empire in the last few years, most were believed to have been incited by an obscure family who claimed to be the fabled Imperial House of Watson, founded by the sixteen illegitimate children of the Empress Emma Charlotte, and were said to have been fighting for the throne for centuries.
Many countries had their governments infiltrated by this family and there would be attempted assassinations of various Imperial Governors and bouts of violence.
But they never succeeded in toppling the Imperial Family from its place and dissolving the Empire.
Only one member of that family had ever sat upon the throne in all of history, the Emperor Michael I.
But it had only been an interim reign until the Empress Emily I took the throne from him upon the end of the Imperial Civil War, which took the lives of her father and two brothers.
Many an Emperor and Empress had tried to wipe that family off the face of the earth but they kept on failing because the family was spread across the globe, in countries such as Bulgaria, Ireland and New Zealand.
It was a battle that had raged on for hundreds of years, until now.

The Emperor was touring the Imperial Laboratories, where the manufacturing of a new weapon was taking place.
“Project Voldemort is going according to schedule, my lord.” Lord Arthur von Auderlitz, Chief Scientist to the Empire, spoke as he escorted His Majesty through to the room where several men stood, holding papers in their hands for the Emperor to look at.
His Majesty sat down at the table and a set of blueprints was laid before him.
“These are the blueprints for the most powerful weapon to be created in all of history, the AVKDA Curse Laser Cannon,” Lord von Auderlitz started to explain, “the Cannon is based upon the same principle as the Killing Curse that featured in the novels who’s film adaptations your ancestors were a part of a long time ago. The name is of course based upon the incantation that triggered the effects of the curse.”
The Chief Scientist placed velvet gloves on his hands and reached into a steel box that had been placed on the table beside him.
He brought out a large green crystal, which emitted an unearthly green light, and held it in his hands, “This is the Salazar Crystal, my lord. Astronauts on a mission to one of Jupiter’s moons discovered it a few years ago. We have found that, if you concentrate the light emitting from the crystal into a laser, it shows the same effects as the Killing Curse if it was used on a living creature. It has been tested on rats, so we are sure that the principle is sound. Plans are already in place to build the Cannon and to mount it on a satellite that will orbit the earth.”
“When will construction begin?” The Emperor asked as he looked at the blueprints.
“Within a few days, my lord. With luck, it will be completed in 5 months.” Lord von Auderlitz replied as he placed the crystal back in its box.
“Then you have my approval. I will look forward to its launch. Now I must go.” His Majesty said as he stood up and he left the room.
The Emperor left the laboratories and went back through to the Great Hall.
When he got there, the Chancellor Lord Sir Arthur Grint was waiting for him.
Sir Arthur bowed and spoke, “Your Majesty.” the Emperor told him to rise.
“What is on your mind, Your Grace?” He asked.
“My lord, I have some most disturbing news, there is talk of an uprising by the Imperial House of Watson.”  The Chancellor spoke.
The Emperor asked in a serious tone “Tell me all that you know about it, Your Grace.”
The Chancellor responded, “It seems that they are organising a fighting force with help from countries like Australia, they are planning on a rebellion to break away.”
The Emperor now had a grim look on his face, obviously pondering something, “This is disturbing news Your Grace, thanks for bringing this to my attention, you are dismissed.” He said finally.
The Emperor paced back and forth in the Great Hall and pondered the news he had just heard.
His Majesty talked to himself, “I had a premonition about something like this happening, an ancestor of mine told me that the Empire was in danger, now it looks like it’s happening.”
Just as he said that, he heard a voice, “I told you that the Empire was in danger, now you must make preparations for war, my son.” it was Daniel I again. “You must act fast or this war will take too much of a toll on the Empire. A lot is at stake, the whole Empire could be lost.” He said.
The Emperor spoke, “But it’s just an uprising, I’m sure that we can handle it.”
Daniel I responded, “The Imperial House of Watson is large and has many friends, they are descendants of my wife and they have many supporters.”
“How long have you known this?” His young descendant questioned him.
The old Emperor looked at him with sadness, then he replied, “I was told about my wife’s affairs just before I died and now, in this state, I can see far into the future and the past. I have seen what has been and what will come to be. Be wary young Daniel, your future was planned out long before you were born. Even my own wife does not know the part that she has played, but her part has not ended yet. Her descendants are wrathful at not having the throne, they think it is their right and privilege due to the fact that she was more closely allied to the Merovingian line by blood than I, it was simply a marriage of convenience for the both of us. But I loved her and she felt the same for me ever since we met at that casting call over two thousand years ago. Ah, what wonderful times we had, making those films together.” He smiled, lost in a sea of memories.
“But what of the House she inadvertently founded?” Daniel XXX asked of his ancestor.
“Sixteen men she seduced and sixteen children she had by them. When all of the children had grown and were told of their mother, they went their separate ways and spread across the earth and they founded sixteen branches of the family we know now as the Imperial House of Watson. Their goal was to topple the Imperial House of Radcliffe-Watson but only one of their number succeeded upon taking the Throne, the youngest, Michael Wadsworth-Watson. All of this occurred after my death but my only surviving child and only daughter, Emily, took the Throne from him upon her own return from Scotland. Only now the Imperial House of Watson has enough numbers and supporters to retake the Throne and keep it, forever.”
The young Emperor stood there, transfixed by shock, “Does she even know that it is her own descendants that who are rebelling against us?”
“I never mentioned it to her but she might know, they worship her like a god and pray that they will get the Throne that is their right which flows through her.” Daniel I responded, “Now I must go. You have been warned twice now, please for your sake and for the Empire's, I implore you to arm for war.”
And with that, the old Emperor embraced his descendant and then faded away.
Afterwards, Daniel walked to his throne and sat down, whereupon an Imperial herald came rushing in, “Your Majesty,” he addressed the Emperor, “The Governor of Australia has been shot by a rebel sympathiser within his own office. Even now, a force is leaving Canberra to join rebel forces in New Zealand. It is only a matter of time until rebels from other parts of Australasia join them.” The herald reported.
“Call the Commanders of my forces, we will now prepare for war!” The Emperor commanded. The herald nodded and ran out of the Great Hall.               

The commanders from all over the world gathered around a large oval shaped table in the Emperor’s war room.
At one end of the table was a large throne like chair where the Emperor sat, dressed in a uniform fashioned like the naval dress uniform but with rows and rows of medals and a purple cloak.
Around the table sat the top ranking military commanders in the Empire.
All dressed in full dress uniform and wearing serious expressions as the Emperor spoke, “Ladies and gentlemen, as you know there is a war on the horizon. I have called this meeting to discuss this pending war and the preparations I want to see made for the impending war. General Douglas Thompson, Commander of Imperial forces in the Southern Pacific, will be the supreme commander in charge of my forces, but I will remain as your Commander in Chief.”
General Thompson, a tall man in his fifties stood, dressed in his Army dress uniform sporting many rows of ribbons and medals from years of service.
The general spoke, “Thank you, Your Highness. I have organised a plan of attack aimed at crippling their forces with superior fire power and superior numbers.”
The general sat back down to applause from everyone in the room.
The meeting went a long time as the Emperor and his military commanders outlined their strategies for winning the war.
During the meeting the Emperor, fearful of the rebellion’s strength, ordered a military draft of all able-bodied men and boys within the Empire.
Those men and boys, as young as 14, would be sent to training camps, where they would be trained for combat.
After that decision was made, another one of the assembled commanders stood up from his chair, “Your Highness, I have terrible news to report.” He said as he saluted the Emperor.
“Yes, go on.” He commanded the frightened Air Marshal, noting the rather dirty and torn uniform of the Royal Australian Air Force that the man wore.
The Air Marshal stood there, shaking and fumbling with the dark blue beret he held in his hands.
At last he managed to get his thoughts together and spoke, “The rebels have taken Canberra, a group of them walked into Parliament and shot the Prime Minister in cold blood and killed the rest of the members. I was lucky to have escaped the massacre along with the rest of the military staff. We fled to Tasmania with those of our forces lucky enough not to be killed or captured and then we came here.” He finished and then burst into tears as he sat down.
Suddenly a video screen sprang into life, it showed a rather harried young woman, dressed in the robes of an Imperial Governor but were edged in black and white and she wore a white feather in her hair, “Your Majesty and most excellent commanders,” She greeted them, “rebel forces have marched into Wellington and have begun to attack the Parliament buildings here, even the Beehive is under attack. I don’t think that my forces can hold out much longer,” The image started to show static, “It’s breaking up…” She looked away, then an explosion sounded and the screen went blank.
“Governor Hohepa, are you there? Damn!” General Thompson thumped his fist on the table, “That’s New Zealand gone. Though, if I know my countrymen, there will be guerilla fighting for weeks. I say that we must attack, now!”
The rest of the commanders began to clamour and shout, it took several minutes until the Emperor had enough of their shouting, “Be quiet!” He bellowed, “I will not have my forces go in and run around like headless chickens. We must have a plan!”
“But the plan has already been discussed, Your Majesty. Even now Imperial forces are gathering at cities throughout the Empire and several weapons technicians are being flown to the satellite where the AVKDA Cannon is being assembled. It will be ready for combat much sooner than was originally planned so it can be used to quell the insurgents.” General Thompson hurriedly explained.
Lord von Auderlitz, who had been invited to the meeting, stood up, “General Thompson, the technology has not been fully tested and the necessary security checks have not been made on the technicians that you have sent up.” He protested.            
General Thompson countered Lord von Auderlitz, “My lord, time is not on our side. The longer we wait, the more we will lose in this war. We must have the AVKDA Cannon ready as soon as possible.”
The Emperor spoke after the General had finished speaking, “I agree with the General on this, the weapon should be tested immediately and be ready for use as soon as possible. I’m ordering the test firing to take place a week from today and the weapon could be a viable option in this war soon after.”        
Lord von Auderlitz spoke up, “But sire, we don’t know who will be testing it, we haven’t given them security clearance yet, for all we know they could be spies.”
The Emperor thought about it for a minute “Well get the security checks done as fast as possible, no delays anymore, we must have this weapon operational.”
The Lord responded “Yes sire, we will get on it right away.”
With that, the meeting ended and the commanders dispersed, all knowing of the sacrifices each would have to make to sweep the rebels from the Empire and defeat them utterly.
The Emperor was left on his throne, staring into space, when his grandmother appeared, “What is going on, my son? I saw all the Imperial commanders leave a little while ago.” She asked.
This time she had been reprogrammed to wear her purple Imperial robes and regalia.
“Oh, I’m sorry that I didn’t see you there, Grandmother. My commanders and I were preparing for war.” He answered her.   
“War? That has not been embarked on since I was alive. I cannot believe this will happen, not now when there has been centuries of peace!” She cried.
The Emperor sighed at his grandmother’s dramatics, “And considering this was your doing in the first place.” He said crossly.
“What do you mean? I have done nothing to start this war.” The Empress shot back
His Majesty stood up from his throne and walked over to his ancestress, “You don’t know anything about those arrayed against us, do you?”
The Empress Emma shook her head, “No, I do not know what you are even talking about.” She replied.
“The rebels are led by the descendants of the sixteen illegitimate children that you yourself gave birth to. You have brought about the defeat and exile of the Imperial House of Radcliffe-Watson with your actions over two thousand years ago.” He spat.
“So you are going to blame me for the choices that I made? You are gonna blame me for this war?!” She fired back.
He responded, “It’s because of your actions that they are here to threaten me in the first place.”
She got a tad angrier, “They have as every right to be here as you do! It’s because of your policies and the policies of previous rulers that they have been forced to rebel!”
After they fought a bit more, he stormed off to the Great Hall to find the New Zealand and Australian ambassadors waiting for him.
He cooled down and asked, “Reports gentlemen?”
“My lord, the rebels have completely occupied New Zealand and have begun occupying most of Australia and the Pacific islands.” Spoke the New Zealand ambassador.
The Emperor now had a worried look on his face, “This is getting worse than I thought.” he said, “Thanks for the update gentlemen. I must contact General Thompson.”
The ambassadors left and the Emperor contacted General Thompson, “General, what’s going on over there? I need answers.” the Emperor asked him.
“We are pinned down with guerilla fighting. Men are taking heavy casualties.”
“How did you get there so fast?” His Majesty asked, sounding perplexed.
“Didn’t you know about the Firebolt fighter? They’re the fastest fighter jet in the world and are created within the Empire. I commandeered one for a flight to Australia.” General Thompson replied, with a look of surprise on his face.
“How many men have been killed since fighting began?” the Emperor enquired of his commander.
“About a thousand so far, my lord. The rebels are fighting fiercely against our forces. I don’t think we can hold on much longer. We may have to pull back to Darwin and evacuate from there.” The General answered.
His image flickered upon the video screen as gunshots sounded around him and presumably the enemy chanted, “Down with the Emperor! Hail to the Empress Emma!”
“Make your way to Darwin and evacuate your forces to St. Petersburg. I have a feeling they’ll attack Turkey next and set up a forward base there so they can attack Europe. That’s an order!” His Majesty commanded.
General Thompson jumped at the command and saluted the Emperor, “Yes sire! Over and out.”
And with that, the screen went blank.
The Emperor turned and addressed the Chancellor, who had reverently walked up while His Majesty had been talking to the General and had stood there that whole time, “Your Grace. Make ready my private jet, I wish to be there when General Thompson’s forces return.”
Lord Grint bowed low, “Yes sire.” And he scuttled away to prepare for the Emperor’s visit to Russia.

Only a few hours later, the Imperial jet had touched down at Putin International Airport, just outside of Moscow.
A welcoming party of Russian nobles and military staff were waiting on the tarmac as the Emperor and his entourage disembarked from the jet.
Amongst the party was Lord Ivan Romanov, the Chancellor to the Tsar Alexander VI of Russia and a cousin to His Majesty.
He bowed in greeting, “Your Most Divine Majesty. It pleases both myself and the Tsar that you would come all this way to greet your beleaguered forces upon their return to Europe.”
His Majesty bowed to him in return, “Thank you for your warm welcome. Please send my regards to Alexander, for he is welcome to visit Britain at any time he chooses.”
They both walked down the red carpet, followed by both the welcoming party and the Imperial entourage.
“Your Majesty. My lord the Tsar wishes for you to meet with him at his Palace in St. Petersburg. He wants to offer his support and the Russian Imperial Army to your cause.” Lord Romanov said to the Emperor as they settled themselves into the waiting limousine.
“I will take him up on his offer. I will gladly meet with him, your lordship.” His Majesty replied.
Both the Emperor and Lord Romanov were then whisked away in their limousine, with the welcoming party and the Imperial entourage following in several other vehicles, to the Tsar’s Winter Palace in St Petersburg.

The entire Russian Imperial Court had come out to greet their prestigious guests within the Great Hall of the Winter Palace.
Sitting upon his own throne was the Tsar Alexander VI, Tsar of all the Russias and the Little Father to his people.
He stood up and greeted his fellow monarch, “Welcome to Russia, my lord. It is such a pleasure to see you within my domains, though I am only a vassal and lowly servant of the Holy Roman Empire of the British, European and Colonial States.”
The Emperor walked up and embraced him warmly, “You’re as humble as when I visited you last. I am glad to be here.”
He then sat down upon a chair next to the Tsar, “Now I hear that you wish to help me in my struggles against the Watsonian Rebellion.”
“Why yes. I wish to offer my support and my armies to your cause.” The Tsar replied.
“I accept your proposal and give you the honour of being my commander in Eastern Europe and I hereforth give into your charge the defence of Turkey.” His Imperial Majesty said generously.
The Tsar stood and knelt before the Emperor, “My sword is your’s, my liege. I will go where ever you command.” He unsheathed his sword and presented it to His Majesty.
The Emperor raised his faithful vassal onto his feet, “I gladly take your sword and I hereby return it to you as my commander.” He gave it back to the Tsar.
“Thank you my lord. I’ll keep the oath of friendship and allegiance that my ancestor made to your’s.” And the Tsar received the sword back and sheathed it.
“I have also organised a tournament for your visit here. My knights and I will be the defenders and any of your knights who wish to challenge us, may do so. You yourself are welcome to take part.”
The Emperor smiled widely, “I haven’t had a chance to take part in a tournament for years, for I enjoy the chivalric sports. I will take you up on your challenge. My knights and I will have our jousting horses and all of our equipment here in a matter of days.”
“The tournament will be held in the Palace Gardens, I am having the lists and stands being built as we speak.” The Tsar told him.
Both sovereigns stood up and saluted each other, “Let the challenge go out across Russia and the rest of Europe, all knights of standing have the chance to joust against the Emperor of the Romans and the Tsar of all the Russias!” A herald cried out and the challenge was carried by the voices of heralds to the entire continent.

A week later, all of the preparations for the coming tournament were being made and knights from all over the Empire had made their way to St. Petersburg.
Over fifty knights had come to the city, along with their squires, baggage trains and families, to take part in the St. Petersburg tournament.
For the time being, the impending return of General Thompson and his troops had been driven from the Emperor’s mind as he made his own preparations for the tournament.
His weapons of war and armour had been sent for from London along with the remarkable stallion he used as his jousting horse.
The Emperor’s helm was covered with jewels and had a crest of a lion’s head upon it, an heirloom of the Imperial House of Radcliffe-Watson.                     
His armour was lined with gold and silver and was amongst the most beautiful suits of armour ever created.
Amongst the many spectators arriving for the tournament was the ancient Empress Emma herself, she had been taken from the super computer at St. James and transported to the tournament in a powerful laptop computer.
Upon it’s arrival, it was booted up and she appeared, dressed in a set of Hogwarts robes, the same as she was as Hermione at 14, except that a golden circlet bound her brow.
The Emperor had been getting ready in his rooms when she walked in, “My son. How lovely it is to see you. I haven’t been to a tournament in many years.” The Empress said as she somehow hugged her infinite great grandson.
“It is good to see you, Grandmother.” His Majesty said stiffly, “If you don’t mind, I have to go and meet with my knights.”
And with that he stormed out, leaving his grandmother in the parlour.
As soon as he left, she burst into tears.

“The Imperial Tournament for the arrival of his Most Divine and Imperial Majesty the Emperor Daniel XXX, eminent descendant of their Most Holy and Imperial Majesties the Emperor Daniel I and the Empress Emma Charlotte, shall begin!” A herald yelled and trumpets sounded as the Emperor upon his horse was led into the lists by a young woman and followed closely by his knights.
The Tsar and his knights were already there, sitting upon their own horses and with lances and shields in their hands.
A huge knight dressed in great red armour was among the Tsarist defenders, nobody knew his name for he had entered anonymously, the only thing known about him was that he was Bulgarian or possibly Anglo-Bulgarian, nobody could say where he was truly from.
The ladies in the stands waved handkerchiefs and winked at the assembled knights on either side of the lists,
Not so the Empress, for she had other things on her mind, like who was the mysterious Red Knight and who did he remind her of?
The first joust of the tournament was between the Emperor and the Tsar, the latter managed to unseat the Emperor rather easily, for His Majesty was a bit rusty on jousting.
Then the jousting went on in earnest, many a spear was broken on shield or helmet as knights tumbled off horses and their opponents trotted away in victory.
Suddenly the Red Knight, who hadn’t been taking part in the earlier jousts, roared, “Who dare will come against me and joust? For I have crushed many a knight in war and in peace. Come forward and fight me, if you dare!”
Nobody made a sound as the great red helm turned this way and that, trying to find a challenger worthy of fighting him, “You there!” He boomed, pointing at the Emperor, “You look like a worthy foe. I therefore challenge you to a joust, Your Majesty!”                 
The Emperor looked shocked, “Me? But… I don’t know.” He stammered.
“Go on Daniel!” The Tsar yelled, “He won’t hurt you. Just knock you round a bit!”
His Majesty sighed and lowered his helm on his head, “I assent to your challenge, Sir Knight.” He said, his voice muffled by the heavy weight on his head.
The Red Knight trotted to one end of the lists as if in answer, the Emperor did the same.
Lances were lowered and they urged their horses forward.
The horses galloped towards each other, their riders bracing themselves for impact.
Smash! The Red Knight’s lance broke upon impact with the Emperor’s shield and both wheeled around for another course.
This time, His Majesty’s lance hit the Red Knight’s crest of a bear rearing on its hind legs and knocked it off his helm.
They wheeled around again and charged, the Red Knight finally unseating the Emperor in one blow.
His Majesty tumbled from the saddle and landed on the ground, hard.
The Red Knight dismounted from his horse, walked over to the Emperor and offered a hand, “Well done Your Majesty. You were very good.”
His Majesty took his opponent’s hand and was pulled to his feet, “Now, will you reveal to me your identity, Sir Knight?”
The Red Knight tapped his shield in response, the Emperor looked at it, noticing for the first time that it was huge in keeping with the size of it’s owner and it had two golden letters on a red field, “I W? What could that mean?” Then the reason dawned on him, “Oh no! You cannot be one of them!”
The knight nodded and removed his helm, revealing a face almost hidden by a great black beard and long black hair.
What could be seen were a hooked nose, bushy black eyebrows and large brown eyes.
The Red Knight cracked a huge grin, “Sir Alexsi Ianveski-Watson at your service.” He bowed.
“How… how can this be? I thought that branch didn’t exist.” The Emperor yelped.
Sir Alexsi grinned again, “Oh but it does. I am a direct descendant of Anastasia Ianveski-Watson, illegitimate daughter of Sir Stanislav Ianveski and the Empress Emma Charlotte, formerly known to Hollywood as Emma Watson.”
He unsheathed his sword and pointed it at His Majesty’s chest, “Now, call off your war. My siblings and I do not want bloodshed, we just simply want to rule by your side.” Sir Alexsi rumbled.
“No! I will never let you! You lot are the people who want to destroy what my great ancestor had worked for and I will not let that happen!” The Emperor unsheathed his own sword and both men assumed a fighting stance.
The Tsar ran in between the two of them and shouted, “There’s no need for this! Put your swords up gentlemen. Please just settle this like civilised people.”
Both Sir Alexsi and the Emperor sheathed their swords but glared at each other menacingly.
A herald rushed up, “Your Majesties,” he panted, “General Thompson has arrived. He’s wounded but fine. I can’t say the same about his troops though.”
The Emperor and the Tsar looked at each other, “We will meet him as soon as this traitor is dealt with.” The Emperor spat.
Several members of the Eagle Guard, who were of as big a stature as Sir Alexsi, snuck up behind the huge knight and grabbed his arms.
Sir Alexsi struggled and roared, “You will pay for this! All of you, except for my beloved great grandmother!”
He looked up at the shocked Empress, “Forgive me, my lady.” He said reverently, his head bowed.
“Take him away!” The Tsar yelled and the guards dragged the despondent knight out of the lists.
“Come now. We will meet with the General. I’m sure that he has much to tell us.” The Emperor said as he then escorted his fellow monarch out of the lists and into the Great Hall, their steeds taken away to be placed in the stables.
General Thompson stood before the Throne, his uniform dirtied and torn, blood seeping from a bullet wound in his side.
He turned as he heard the Emperor and the Tsar walk in, “Your Majesties,” He bowed low, wincing in pain and grasping his side, “the expeditionary force and I were lucky to have escaped. We only just managed though. Darwin airport was overrun and we had to fight our way through to get to the transport planes. The scum tried to shoot us down, succeeded with a few, crashed into the harbour they did. You should’ve heard the screams of pain as those planes became fireballs before they hit the water.” He shuddered at the memory.
“So both Australia and New Zealand are now completely occupied?” The Emperor asked.
General Thompson thought for a moment. At last he answered, “Yes sire. The Governor of Australia is dead but the Governor of New Zealand managed to escape the ruins of Government House during the attack on Wellington. She made her way to Darwin where she met up with a few of my troops and was evacuated along with them. Governor Hohepa is being transported here since she desires an audience with you, sire.”
Now the Tsar asked a question of his own, “Who is leading the Australian and New Zealand rebels?”
“A man by the name of Mark Wadsworth-Watson. Apparently he’s of the New Zealand/Canadian branch of the family. It has been well documented by history that the Emperor Michael I had taken a Canadian woman as his wife and, when he abdicated in favour of the Empress Emily I, he moved to Canada with her and had children.” The General replied.
The Emperor nodded, “And their descendants now desire revenge for what Michael I was supposedly forced to do. But he did it from the bottom of his heart and of his own free will. Even the descendants of the other fifteen children born to the Empress Emma are fighting against the abdication. It seems they want it reversed. But that will never happen as long as I’m still on the Throne.”
A mobile video screen hovered over to them and flashed into life. It showed the Imperial Governor of Turkey; he looked like the most terrified man that all three had ever seen, “Your Majesties. Terrible things are happening here in Istanbul. We’re being attacked by rebels.”
“Oh no. I knew that Turkey would be attacked next!” The Emperor yelled.
He turned to General Thompson, “Prepare for immediate deployment of all Imperial forces. The Tsar will command them as you have been injured in battle. Go to the medic tent and get patched up, I might need you at the High Command.”
The General saluted, “Yes, sire.” And he walked off, wincing from the pain in his side.
The video screen continued to hover and the Governor somewhat looked a bit more relieved, “What can I do in the meantime?”
Daniel XXX looked over at the screen, “Pull your troops back and place them around your Palace. The Tsar and the troops he’ll command will come and attempt to drive the rebels back. If he does not succeed, the AVKDA Cannon will be utilised in doing so.”
The Governor bowed, “Yes sire, I will do what Your Highness has commanded.”
And with that said, the screen went blank and hovered away.
A servant walked up and bowed deeply, “Your Majesties. Governor Katerina Hohepa has arrived.”
The Emperor nodded, “Send her in.”
With that command the doors swung open and a rather beautiful Maori woman, dressed in the Imperial Governmental robes, strode in.
Upon reaching both monarchs, she curtsied demurely and straightened up, “Emperor Daniel, Tsar Alexander,” She addressed them both, “I was quite lucky to have escaped the devastation that is Wellington. I had tried to ask for Imperial assistance in quelling the riots that were popping up all over the country but my request didn’t seem to get past the Imperial Chancellery and onto you, Your Majesty. I had so wanted for my beloved country to not go the same way as Australia did. I am quite disappointed in the way things are run, especially in a situation like this.”
Alexander tried to comfort her, “New Zealand will be rescued and restored to the Empire as soon as we can. I can promise you that.”
And so the conversation continued long into the night, Governor Hohepa discussing with the Emperor and the Tsar about what could be done to save her own people and the other peoples of the Empire, all three totally oblivious to the sounds of scurrying feet, horns blowing in the distance, the pounding of hammers and the rattling of sword upon shield as the knights who had been there for the tournament geared up for war.

A month later, legion upon legion of soldiers, dressed in camouflage uniforms with the familiar Imperial Eagle as part of their regimental badges on their upper sleeves and helmets and bearing arms, stood to attention in their ranks in St. James Square, before the Palace.
There were swordsmen, riflemen, artillery and calvary regiments (both horse and vehicle), all ready and waiting for orders.
General Thompson, now fit and well and riding with the Oxford Light Calvary as their commander, was dressed in the white, purple and gold uniform of his new command, as he had proved himself to be fit for battle, sat on a horse beside the Emperor himself, resplendent in his purple and gold dress uniform and great purple cloak.
The Chancellor rode along with them also, dressed in silver armour over which was worn a white tabard emblazoned with a red cross pattee, the symbol of the Order of the Temple.
Other members of the Imperial military staff rode behind them, dressed in their various uniforms.
Commanding officers bellowed their orders and the huge army marched, out of the square and through the streets to the outskirts of London, where troop carrier jets were waiting at Heathrow.
The Emperor led them in their march to the airport.
Upon the Palace balcony, the Empress stood and watched them march off, tears running down her cheeks as she wept for her descendant and the choice that he had made to fight against her children.
She had felt their love and adoration for her grow every day as they fought for their cause.
It gave her strength and in turn she started to love them for they were her children and that couldn’t be denied by anyone.
The Empress Emma was truly a mother to them, the members of the Watsonian Rebellion.
So, with her tears wiped away, she left the balcony.

Turkish soldiers hurried to reload an artillery piece and fired it at a huge tank, the armour piercing shell penetrated the turret and exploded, killing the occupants inside.
Suddenly bomber jets flew overhead and dumped their payload of bombs upon the Turks, explosions rocked the place and killed them outright.
Several Imperial anti aircraft guns roared into life, white hot lead spewing from the muzzles and brought a few bomber jets down in flames.
Imperial tanks rumbled up and took the position formerly held by the Turkish artillery.
All around the outskirts of Istanbul were positioned Imperial tanks, anti aircraft guns and artillery.
In the centre of the city was the Imperial headquarters, where the digital targeting system for the AVKDA Cannon had been set up and the commanding officers were based.
The Emperor watched from his command centre as he was advised by his staff on what strategy to put into place next.
Suddenly horns began to blow, the sound drifting in from the European side of the Bosporus River.
Hundreds of rebel soldiers stood on the bank, waving swords, spears and rifles at their foe.
Rebel knights on horseback moved amongst them, blowing horns and holding lances, scarlet and gold pennants streaming in the wind.
His Majesty turned to the threat and yelled, “Bring the Cannon targeting system online!”
Technicians ran to their posts and the tapping sound of fingers upon keyboards rang out.
“The targeting system is online, Your Majesty.” One of them reported.
The Emperor smiled, “Good. Now target the army on the bank.”
“Yes, sire.” And the technicians got back to work, monitoring whether the Cannon was in firing range or not.
“They have now been targeted but…” the reporting tech gulped.
His Majesty turned to him, “Well, out with it man!” He snapped.
“Sire. The Cannon is not within firing range and has not sufficiently reached the sphere of orbit needed to fire it.” The tech shook as he spoke.
The Emperor grabbed him by his collar and hoisted him up, “What? You can’t be serious? Has it even been tested yet?” He roared.
The tech struggled in His Majesty’s grasp, “This was to be it’s first test fire under military conditions, sire.” He whimpered as the Emperor shook him.
“Get it within range! I want it fully operational and firing as soon as possible,” His Majesty shook the unfortunate tech more violently, “Got that?”
“Yes sire.” The tech saluted and the Emperor dropped him.
He rushed back and began to hurry his fellow technicians along.
The large computer screen lit up and showed the Cannon mounted upon its satellite, turning to the direction of the rebel army, it’s muzzle beginning to fill with green light.
“Fire!” The Emperor yelled and a tech punched the red button upon his console.
The Cannon drew back to fire, but a whine of electronics and machinery began and the green light issuing from it faded and winked out.
His Majesty turned from the screen, “What’s going on?” He bellowed.
“The Cannon’s electrical system has somehow short circuited, sire. It will take weeks to bring it back online.” A tech stammered.
Then General Patterson ran into the command centre, “Your Majesty, we can’t hold the rebels back for much longer. What should we do?”
The Emperor thought for a moment, then he drew himself up, “Pull back all of our forces to Paris. Berlin is well protected by the Eagle Guard so we don’t have to worry about it, but Paris must be held to insure that Britain and the Empire does not fall,” He looked at the General, “Hop to it man!”
General Patterson saluted and marched out to prepare for the evacuation.
His Majesty sat upon his chair, “Now it begins.” He murmured.

A month later, rebel forces had reached the outskirts of Paris after marching through Europe, killing and looting where ever they went.
Most of the countries within the old European Union had been overrun and the Imperial Governors and nobles fled before them.
Berlin had been taken but only after a heroic defence by the Eagle Guardsmen stationed there.
Only Paris stood between the supporters of the Watsonian Rebellion, the invasion of Britain and the overthrow of a dynasty.
The huge Imperial army was drawn up on both banks of the River Seine, ready to attack any of the rebel forces who would break through the preliminary defences surrounding the city itself.
But the defences were destroyed in a barrage of artillery fire, one shot being off target and hitting a sculpture of the original Imperial couple, the Emperor being blown to pieces but by some freak coincidence, the Empress was left unscathed as if it had been a deliberate act of vandalism on the part of the Rebellion.
The rebels rode in on tanks, jeeps and troop carriers, blasting any Imperial soldier out of their way and making the civilian population of Paris cower in their homes.
Imperial riflemen ran from ruin to ruin, trying to pick off several vehicles within the rebel convoy using anti tank weapons, to distract them from reaching the Seine.
But one jeep peeled off from the convoy and chased them down, the rebels driving it yelling in excitement as they shot them point blank with their rifles.
But a horn blew and several Imperial rocket launchers beside the river opened fire, destroying several of the leading jeeps in the process.
Imperial tanks slowly moved out of the side streets and gave fire as well.
Rebel soldiers piled out of their vehicles, occupied some buildings and quickly returned fire.
It eventually disintegrated into a street battle, where Imperial soldiers tried to retake those buildings overrun by the rebels and were constantly pushed back by them.
The Emperor himself led a few charges into the battle zone, accompanied by General Thompson and the Oxford Light Calvary, but they couldn’t break through the ring of defence set up by the rebel army.
It soon became a massacre of men, horses and machines as casualties mounted.      
After several hours of this, the Emperor ordered his men to pull back to the coast and make their way to London as it had been reported that the AVKDA Cannon was now fully operational.     

Within the Great Hall at St. James Palace, the Emperor and his Court were discussing whether or not usage of the Cannon would be ethical.
“I say that we should fight them with everything we have, just not the Cannon. I’ve seen it and it chills me to the bone.” General Sir Matthew Phelps, commander of the Red Eagle Division of the Eagle Guard and venerable descendant of Sir James Phelps, shuddered as he spoke.
The Emperor turned to him, “What do you suggest then, Sir Matthew?” He said in a sarcastic voice.
General Phelps mistook His Majesty’s sarcastic tone for a questioning one, “Just give them what they want.” He replied flatly.
Emperor Daniel stood up from his throne, “That’s what I’ll never do. In all of my life I have never heard such blatant disregard for the battle plan and is tantamount to treason. I warn you Sir Matthew, you are treading on thin ice here since you are related to them.” He spat.
Sir Matthew began to tremble, “I can assure you my lord that I am most loyal to you and I’ve had no dealings with the rebel leaders at all.”
“Alas, I wish it was that simple to prove your loyalty.” The Emperor frowned.
The King of Ireland then stood up, “My liege, I can tell that General Phelps is most sincere and truthful in his words. He can be believed.”
“Thank you John. You may now sit down.” His Majesty spoke and King John V Murray, High King of Ireland, sat back down in his seat.
A mobile video screen flashed into life, It showed General Thompson,
“Rebel forces have just landed at Dover and are making their way down the coast to London.” He reported.
The Emperor nodded, “Thank you General. Keep me posted on their movements.”
General Thompson saluted, “Yes sire.” And the screen went blank.
“Does anyone else here have any more objections to the use of the Cannon?” His Majesty asked.
Everyone in the room shook their heads but one, “Your Majesty. If we use the Cannon, what prevents it from malfunctioning again?” Sir Christopher Lewis, the Lord Butler and Chamberlain, asked.
“You have asked a very good question, Sir Christopher. I will let Lord Arthur Owen von Auderlitz answer that one.” The Emperor answered.
Lord von Auderlitz stood up, “I have technicians working around the clock, both here on Earth and on the Cannon, to make sure that any firing procedure goes as smoothly as possible,” He turned and pointed towards a console, where a lone technician stood, “There is the firing console, ready to be used at a moment’s notice. The rest is at the Imperial Space centre in Portsmouth. Does that answer your question, Sir Christopher?”
“Yes it does, Lord von Auderlitz.” Sir Christopher replied.
Suddenly a violent blast shook the Palace, “What in God’s name is going on?” The Emperor yelled.
The Screen flashed into life again, “Your Majesty, it seems that the rebels are using their artillery to attack the Palace.” A Captain of the Eagle Guard said hurriedly.
“How can they do that?” His Majesty asked.
“It seems they have long distance artillery weapons considering they are firing them miles from the city.” The old soldier explained.
The Emperor stood up from his throne, “That’s it! Bring the Cannon’s targeting system online! We will destroy these fools once and for all!” He roared.
The tech standing by the console saluted and started to obey his lord’s command.
“Targeting system online, my lord.” He said as he finished.
His Majesty nodded, “Good. Now target the rebel army.”
The tech finished this task as quickly as the last, “Task complete, my lord.”
“Now I will put a stop to this foolishness!” The Emperor yelled, “Fire!”
The sound of someone running in high-heeled shoes grew louder and the Empress herself burst in, “I will not let you hurt my children!” She bellowed.
She ran up to the satellite console and held up her hand, a bolt of electricity burst outward and earthed itself in the console.
Within a few seconds, Kaboom! It burst into flames and the Cannon misfired, destroying the satellite and sending the Cannon itself out of orbit.
And with that, she collapsed, tears running down her cheeks.
The Emperor whipped around, “How dare you? You robbed me of my greatest triumph and of the chance to destroy this family you spawned, forever.” He spat.
Her Majesty tried to raise herself off the floor but collapsed again, “I couldn’t let you do it. They are my children and I cannot deny it.” She whimpered, “Now it is… finished.”
And she faded away, only to be replaced by a cloud of electrical discharge.
Technicians scurried off to the super computer to check on what was going on.
“Damn that stupid woman! She had a hand in the Empire’s refoundation and now it’s destruction! They never should’ve allowed her to return! Now the name of Watson shall never be spoken and she shall be stricken from history for all eternity!” The Emperor roared.
He stormed around the Great Hall, swearing and yelling until he was blue in the face, and attempted to tear down the great tapestry to destroy the face of the woman who had brought ruin to the Empire, the frightened Court watching him with horror.
Suddenly the discharge cloud parted to reveal a young girl dressed in a Hogwarts uniform, her long bushy brown hair flowing down her shoulders and her eyes that familiar brown and looking frightened.
Then the image flickered and changed to the same girl but a few years older, dressed in the same uniform but her hair slightly changed and looking more confident.
The image changed again to reveal her at the age of 13, dressed in a much-changed uniform and her hair less bushy and shorter, a red Persian cat at her side.
Again the image changed and showed her at 14-15, dressed in the same uniform as before and with longer hair, a rather interesting looking young man in red robes edged with fur holding her hand.
Then it changed to her at 15-16, dressed in the same uniform but with a Gryffindor prefect's badge pinned to her breast and holding a wand in her hand, looking bruised and beaten as if from a fight.
Twice more it changed, the first to when she was 16-17 and the ends of her hair looked burnt and she was panting and the second was when she was 17-18 and she wore the badge of Head Girl and a red haired young man in the same robes stood beside her, holding her hand. He too wore a badge, this time of Head Boy.
The image flickered three more times, as to how she looked upon her marriage and coronation, how she looked as a woman in her late forties and as an old woman, laid low by time and always dressed in her Imperial robes and regalia.
Then it faded away to reveal a young woman in her early teens, dressed in a very stylish purple dress, which was tied at the waist by a dark purple silk ribbon, and her dark blond hair swept up in a bun. A white flower was also in her hair.
A corsage of white flowers was pinned to her shoulder and wound it’s way down to her breast.
The Empress’ eyes seemed to pierce her descendant as he looked at her with wonder.
“Forgive me for what I have done. I was lonely and a fool.” She spoke, her voice sounding as though it was coming from far away.
His Majesty, awed by the sight of her, simply bowed in reply.
Suddenly the sound of great horns being blown drifted into the Great Hall and a golden light appeared.
Someone moved within it but it was so bright that the Emperor and the rest of the Court had to shade their eyes from the glare.
As if it had known of His Majesty’s thoughts, the light dimmed to reveal a figure dressed in Imperial robes.
It was a man, his hair and beard black yet tinged with grey and his eyes a brilliant blue.
As he walked forward, his age seemed to melt away and youth was restored to him and, with one final touch, the Crown of Charlemagne floated down from its pedestal beside the Throne and placed itself upon his head.
His Majesty felt this incredible urge to kneel along with the Court before this spectre and he did so, for he knew who it was, “Grandfather,” He croaked, “Why do you come now? When all is lost.”
The once and future Emperor looked down upon him, “I do not come for the Empire, for that has ended, but for my beloved.” He said softly.
He stretched out a hand to the Empress and she took it, “My dear sweet Daniel,” she cried, “Have you come to take me away?”
The old Emperor gently embraced her, “Yes Emma. I have.”
He held her close and caressed her cheeks and then, in one movement, kissed her lips.
The horns blew again and the light shone out, bathing both in brilliant gold, and then vanished.
The Crown, no longer supported by a head, fell and the Emperor quickly moved to catch it.
He caught it in both hands as it came very close to shattering upon the ground.
The Emperor raised it up and looked at it, the gold plates and jewels glinting in the light and the mosaics of Kings David and Solomon as beautiful as ever.
His Majesty stood up from his kneeling position and walked to the pedestal where he reverently placed the Crown upon it.
The Lord Chancellor came running into the Great Hall, “Sire, the rebels are beginning to attack the palace.” As he said that, the huge doors began to shake with repeated blows of a battering ram, “Where shall we go now, sire?”
“New Zealand. It is the only country left that is still loyal to me and to my house. Yours too I believe since your ancestor, the most excellent Sir Rupert, married a woman who was born and raised there. So to New Zealand we shall go.”
The Emperor turned and made his way to his private apartments, where a set of green robes lay upon his bed.
He took off his Imperial robes and dressed himself in the green robes.
His Majesty strode out into the Great Hall, “Sir Arthur. I charge you with the protection of the Ring and Seal of State. Without them, the man who will usurp the Throne will not be able to rule without them, unless he can create his own.”
Sir Arthur bowed, “Yes sire.” And the Emperor took off the Ring and placed it in a velvet pouch along with the gold Seal.
With a flourish, he presented the pouch to the Chancellor and raised the hood of his robes over his head, “Tell the Court to flee for their lives and make their way to Queenstown, we should be able to hide in the Southern Alps. Now go.”
The Chancellor bowed again and quickly shepherded the Court out of the Great Hall.
And so the entire Imperial Court fled to where their lord and master directed them to go.
His Majesty soon joined them and they watched the Empire crumble around them.
And the Crown went to a new Emperor who was good and just, but he and his descendants could never rekindle the same patriotism and feeling that their people had felt for the Emperors of old.
The name of Harry Potter and the Empire that was refounded upon it became a distant memory of the glory and magic of Imperial Rome.