Standing atop the highest tower in Camelot, I watched the battle unfold. The full might of a military ground force was unleashed. And Mordred effortlessly withstood it all. While it wasn't the entire might of the UK, it wasn't far from the best this age had.
While the Marvel universe would have powers far beyond this in the future, right now, it wasn't that different from the universe where Marvel was but a comic.
It wouldn't be until after the events of the Avengers that the world would really start to gear up. Using alien technology to increase the power of the military. For now, this was the best they had, and it wasn't good enough.
Yet, they didn't give up just yet, I could see it. Far away from Camelot. I watched as the RAF Brize Norton airfield whirled to life.
Given that the mission had been against a city within England itself and against knights. They hadn't sent jets, at most a few attack helicopters.
Now, they had nothing else to use. Their ground forces were defeated, and while the military had many more to call upon, it would take time. They couldn't afford to lose.
So, those in charge clearly decided that they would hold nothing back. And neither would I.
I took a deep breath and held out my empty hand. Willing my lance to manifest.
"I have expanded the land, built cities, and crossed the boundless sea.
I split the heavens and chained the stars to anchor fate.
But what is this light for, if not to judge the fallen world?
Holy Lance that anchors the edge of existence,
Pierce through creation and cleave apart destiny!
Let the boundary of paradise shine eternal.
Thirteen fangs, unleashed!
Rhongomyniad—Beacon of the End!"
Unleashing the light of my lance, the light of the storm, and of the end. I forcefully brought forth the very end itself onto the airfield.
One minute, it was a hive of activity, with jets on the runways about to take off. The next, a bright pillar of light fell from the heavens and reduced the pride of the British Air Force into a smoking crater.
But I wasn't done, I had shown my fangs onto the UK, but I would show the world the power of my bite.
I turned to the side and faced the sea. Far away, a US aircraft carrier was moving slowly towards me. My widows had informed me of it, and with the lance in my hand, my eyes could reach it.
The USS George Washington. The pride of the Navi. Sent to enforce a trade blockade should Britain fall to me.
Knowing what I knew about elements within the US military's lust for all things superhuman, whatever it was, super soldiers, Hulk, Mutants, and aliens. I was well aware they wanted more than to blockade trade.
Many heroes might respect the government or fear it. but I would rather take the role of a villain than bow before such corruption. Yet, I wasn't some villain, for a mortal does not have the right to cast judgment on a god.
"Let the heavens bear witness, and the earth stand silent.
The lance of light shall pierce all falsehoods,
And the sins of the unworthy shall be burned away.
O Holy Spear, shine upon this final battlefield.
I am your judgment—Rhongomyniad!"
All things were an equal distance away from the end, so to my lance, distance meant nothing. My words filled the sky, and so too did light.
In the North Atlantic Ocean, a massive ship was sailing—a true behemoth of human creation. The USS George Washington was a more than 1,000-foot giant demonstration of US naval power.
Originally, it had been scheduled for deployment near Japan but had instead been the ship chosen to go to the UK.
Picked due to the name. As George Washington had been a man who fought to liberate the US from the UK, it would now help liberate the UK.
Yet, this nuclear-powered mobile fortress and its support fleet were suddenly struck by a pillar of light from above, and the sea itself roared in protest. Yet when the light died, no trace of the ship or its fleet remained.
-----
It was with classic English weather that a massive group of journalists stood gathered in raincoats outside number 10 Downing Street. They were all waiting eagerly for the doors to open at any minute and for the prime minister to give his speech.
Gorden Brown came out with an umbrella in his hand. He looked every bit the defeated man. He looked at the huge crowed for a moment before he sighed and began the most important speech in his life.
"This weather here today matches my mood," he said, voice heavy with emotion. Raindrops pattered against his umbrella as he adjusted his stance. "I earlier today took part in a series of important votes behind closed doors. These votes were of Parliament—both the House of Lords and the House of Commons."
He paused, letting the significance sink in. Some journalists shuffled awkwardly, leaning in closer, sensing the gravity of his next words.
"Later, I spoke with Her Majesty the Queen." His voice wavered slightly but quickly steadied. "It is with great honor that I have served as her Prime Minister, yet also with great shame, that I say this."
A hush fell over the crowd.
"But the Parliament has reached an agreement; the two Houses have approved of it, as has the Queen."
Brown gripped the podium tighter, as if holding onto it for support. "I hereby announce that I have dissolved the government, and the Parliament has resigned. The Houses, too, have taken steps to devolve themselves."
Gasps and murmurs rippled through the crowd like waves crashing against a shore. Cameras zoomed in, capturing every twitch of his lips, every tremble of his hands.
"The United Kingdom, our great union," he continued, his voice cracking ever so slightly, "was the first great nation of Europe to become a democracy. So it saddens me deeply that it is also the first to fall."
A lump visibly formed in his throat, and he paused to swallow it down. His gaze lifted slightly toward the gray sky, as if seeking strength from above, before returning to the faces of the stunned crowd.
"The last act of Parliament was to return all power—legislative, executive, and judicial—to Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth II." His next words rang out with an air of finality: "Long live the Queen!"
The press erupted into a cacophony of murmured disbelief, but Brown raised a hand to silence them.
"As a royal subject of Her Majesty," he said, softer now, "I have been asked to announce that later today, the Queen too will have an important announcement. And due to this, the Queen—using her power as absolute monarch—has declared that today is an official holiday, so everyone can watch it."
Some journalists exchanged wide-eyed glances, their pens scribbling furiously, their microphones capturing every breath he took.
"This does not extend to those who hold essential roles," he added, "but those individuals are instead given a paid break during the announcement itself."
He exhaled sharply, the weight of the moment bearing down on him. "Finally, I urge everyone to remain calm in the coming days."
The finality in his tone sent shivers down the spines of many listeners, as if they were standing at the edge of an irreversible change.
"Thank you," he concluded, his voice now solemn. "And may God be with us. God save the Queen!"
With that, he stepped back, his umbrella lowering slightly as the doors of Number 10 closed behind him.
-----
Later that day, almost every person in the UK sat before their television, and even around the world, countless others watched alongside them. The anticipation was palpable, with silence filling living rooms, pubs, and streets.
Finally, the royal crest faded into view before transitioning to a quiet, grand room in Buckingham Palace.
Queen Elizabeth II sat poised and regal, her pearl necklace resting gently against her navy-blue dress. The soft light of the room cast a warm glow around her, creating an atmosphere of dignity and grace. A Union Jack stood behind her, but it was the steady, determined gaze of the monarch that held the nation's attention.
Her hands rested gently on the table before her, but as she began to speak, her fingers tightened briefly, revealing the weight she carried in this moment.
Her voice, calm yet imbued with sorrow and resolve, filled the air:
"My beloved people of the United Kingdom and the Commonwealth," she began, pausing briefly as if to gather the collective strength of her nation. Her eyes softened for a moment, but her gaze never wavered.
"Today marks a moment unlike any other in the long history of our nation. It is a day of change, uncertainty, and reflection." She drew in a quiet breath, the weight of the next words settling over her like a shroud. "It is also a day of great responsibility—one that calls upon us to summon the courage and unity that has carried our people through the most trying times."
Her gaze shifted downward for a brief second before lifting again, her tone growing firmer. "For centuries, this nation has stood as a beacon of democracy, resilience, and pride. It is with a heavy heart that we acknowledge the circumstances which have brought us here."
Her lips pressed together momentarily, as if containing the flood of emotions within her. "Yet, as your Queen, we do not stand before you in sorrow, but in duty."
She straightened her posture slightly, her head held high with dignity. "We need not explain why we are speaking to you today or about what we will speak of." Her fingers clasped together tightly, betraying the strain hidden beneath her composed exterior.
"It is with a heavy heart indeed that I must announce that I, Queen Elizabeth Alexandra Mary Windsor, disband the Commonwealth, disband the United Kingdom."
Her words hung heavy in the air. For a moment, the room itself seemed to breathe as the nation collectively held its breath.
"I recognize the claim of His Majesty King Arthur Pendragon of Camelot as the rightful King of England, Wales, and Scotland," she continued, her tone steady but filled with quiet acceptance. "I give up the title of monarch to His Majesty."
Her voice softened, and for the briefest moment, the Queen's eyes glistened with emotion. "I remain the monarch of Northern Ireland and gracefully accept the title of Duke of Lancaster for myself and Duke of Windsor for my eldest son."
She paused, allowing the enormity of her words to sink in. Her gaze moved, scanning the invisible audience through the camera, as if she could feel the weight of every person watching her.
"It is with the greatest sadness for the past and with great hope for the future that I declare the United Kingdom no more," she said, her voice cracking slightly before she steadied herself again. "And instead declare myself a lord of Albion, the great nation which I and all my former subjects now call home."
There was a long silence, one that seemed to stretch across time itself, as if honoring the passing of an era.
Finally, she straightened once more, her shoulders square, her voice ringing out with the unwavering strength of the monarch she had always been:
"Long live His Majesty the King. Long live Albion."
The screen faded, leaving the nation in silence as the world processed what it had just witnessed.
(End of an age... I mean chapter)
So, this chapter might be my favorite, it was really special to make.
How likely would something like this be? I agree, unlikely, I mean, no way the PM would bring an umbrella out in the rain, surely he would allow himself to get soaked.
Long live the King, Love live Albion!