The Federation Shall Not Fall

August 4th, 2050



London, Capital of the Imperial British Federation



The Royal Box was nothing short of spectacular, and even that was an understatement. The entire box was gilded in gold leaf, with silver trimming and an elegant crystal chandelier dangling from the ceiling. Rare and priceless paintings hung from the wall, some of which were quite large. But none was larger than the painting of the Royal Family, which covered the entire back wall of the Royal Box. The seats were lush and made of deep maroon-colored leather, with the royal families coat of arms stitched into the seat back. The seating was arranged in a semi circle around a massive throne, made with some solid marble and gold; the Emperor’s throne. Nobody sat in front of the Emperor, in fact, the very thought was enough to scare the hell out of most people. But in all reality, it didn’t matter. The Royal Box was set at the North End of London Imperial Stadium, so no matter where you were sitting, you got a view of the entire field. The seating also did something else. It made it so that no matter where in the box you were, the luxurious scents from the full buffet at the back of the box wafted towards you. There was a selection of foods beyond even the finest restaurant, foods that had to be imported from far away British territories. The scents filled up the box like a cloud; a delicious, scrumptious cloud. This cloud smacked Grand Duke Anthony Ainsworth right in the face as he strode into the Royal Box. The scents were amazing, especially to Anthony, since his nose was accustomed to the very different scents of his homeland. As he walked into the box, he was extremely glad for the light clothing he was wearing, since the Royal Box was kept at a warm temperature. Anthony wore tight, straight black pants with a gold trim line and a jacket of sorts. It was more of a shirt/jacket hybrid, with a tight fitting figure and two overlapping front flaps that were held together by gold buttons down the right side of the jacket. It had a high straight collar that was only somewhat uncomfortable. In addition to that, he wore a long cloak, embroidered with gold and silver stitching. It was form fitting over the shoulders and was held on by a gold chain across his upper chest. His expensive imported leather shoes clicked on the marble floor as he made his way to his seat. It was slightly behind and to the right of the Emperor’s seat, which was a highly respected position to sit in. Which made sense, since Anthony was one of the Emperor’s closest friends and advisors.





There were only a few other people in the box, most of them just servants, so Anthony took a seat. He glanced out over the area, admiring its beauty and frivolity. The stadium was massive, capable of holding nearly 400,000 people, more if the extra seating space was used. It was exquisitely decorated, with marble and gold leafing throughout. The boxes were super-luxurious and even the normal seating was far above any other stadium. It featured a retractable transparent-steel dome and massive spotlights and projectors. The whole set-up had been astronomically expensive and had nearly made the Ministry of Finance have a heart attack. But, it was nessecary. Sort of. London had been selected to host the 2050 Summer Olympics and had been sadly under-prepared for it. So, the British Olympic Preparations Team had scrambled into action, getting the Emperor to pass a budget that included tens of billions for construction of new sports facilities and a total rejuvenation of London. Construction had begun ten years ago, and the massive stadium where Anthony now sat had only been completed a month ago. It had bee a struggle to get it ready for the massive influx of visitors, but the BOPT had pulled it off. The vast swaths of seating were already full of spectators, hundreds of thousands of them, filling the stadium. The game didn’t start for nearly an hour, but people enjoyed getting there early to make sure they got good seats. The flags were also in full force, making it very easy to see the de-facto segregation among the different countries. According to the official roster, nearly Americans occupied 90,000 of the seats, and they showed it. They had brought along a massive American flag; the 13 stripes and 56 stars, proudly held up above the crowd’s head. The British spectators hadn’t been nearly so showy. They had brought their individual flags, and were happily waving them.



“Quite a display, isn’t it? I guess they’re still not quite over the 1st Revolution” Anthony started at the sudden voice and spun around. He relaxed when he saw who it was. The Duke of Canada Patrick Martin, Anthony’s close personal friend.



“Ah, Your Grace. I see you also enjoy arriving early” Anthony said, bowing slightly. Patrick smiled and bowed back. His clothing was less fancy than Anthony’s but equally expensive. Patrick also smiled and bowed back. “Your Royal Highness. I do indeed enjoy arriving early”



Anthony chuckled slightly. Patrick was not a member of the Royal Family, while Anthony was the 5th Prince of the Imperial Family and 5th in line to become Emperor. About this fact, he wasn’t pleased. He had no interest in becoming Emperor, and thankfully there were four other people in line before him. Unfortunately, he was treated different than the others, mainly because he was so young and still the Duke of Oceania. It was either out of resentment or admiration that people talked to him at all.



“Well, lets have a seat, shall we?” Patrick said, finding and sitting in his seat. Anthony took the seat next to him and stared out over the crowd. “The Americans certainly are patriotic, aren’t they?”



Patrick looked out at the massive flag, and the cheering Americans. He shook his head. “Patriotic? No. Its really more of an insane nationalism, if you ask me”



“Oh really? How do you figure? Do our people not do the same thing on Federation Day?” Anthony said, before asking one of the servants for some champagne. Patrick nodded in tentative agreement. “I’m not suggesting we aren’t the same. But if we mistake the American’s aggressive nationalism for passive patriotism, it’s going to get us in a lot of trouble.”



Anthony couldn’t disagree with this fact. The Americans had been becoming more and more hostile towards the Imperial Federation, which was a situation nobody wanted. This brought a conversation topic to Anthony’s mind, which he was thankful for, since there was still 50 minutes to waste.



“Speaking of the Americans, do you know how the negotiations regarding Cuba are going?”



Patrick let out a deep, frustrated sigh. This immediately answered the question, but Patrick spoke anyways. “To be frank, not well at all. The bloody Americans keep saying that we can have the Eastern half of Cuba, but then they tack on so many ridiculous strings and clauses and catches that it nullifies the whole purpose of trying to get the land. Honestly, I’m beginning to believe they have no intention of actually giving us even an inch of land and are just doing this for their own damn amusement.”



At this, Anthony laughed. “Ah, that is truly a possibility, knowing the Americans. They aren’t willing to give up anything without a fight or charging us into bankruptcy.”



Patrick smirked, sipping some water from a bottle he had brought. “Oh well. At leas they haven’t made a big deal over the Alaska Dispute. Can you imagine if they decided to pick a fight?”



Anthony smiled grimly, trying not to think about the reality of what could be. The Alaska Dispute was the name for a land dispute that involved a 100 square mile patch of land that contained massive oil reserves. It was being dealt with under the table and without a lot of fan fare. Which was good, because the last thing either party wanted was to start an armed conflict. Despite being nothing more than a rebellious former colony, the US was a powerful nation, with a massive and high-tech military. The Imperial Federation could take on any nation in the world and win, except for the United States. That was part of the reason for the frosty and sometimes hostile relations between the two entities. Aside from the 2nd Revolution in 1850, when the Americans tried again and succeeded in overthrowing British rule, there hadn’t ever been an armed conflict between the two countries.



“Anyways, it appears that the royal announcer has arrived. I expect we’ll be doing a lot of standing and bowing, so let’s stand up and greet the rest, shall we?” Patrick quipped, setting down his water and standing. Anthony did the same, straightening his cloak. Had to look nice, after all. No sooner had they done that did the royal announcer, dress in a puffy red and gold outfit, announce the first of the many-to-come nobles.



“Presenting, His Imperial Highness, Duke Rodney of Rhodesia and his wife, her Imperial Highness Duchess Evelyn of Rhodesia.”



In through the golden-arched doorway strode the Duke and Duchess of Rhodesia. They were extremely important and well respected; Rhodesia was the source of a considerable amount of the Imperial Federation’s diamonds and other gemstones. For this reason, Rhodesia was considered an economic powerhouse within the Imperial Federation. Duke Rodney was a tall, imposing man, with a thick white mustache and a tone of voice that made him sound condescending, no matter who he spoke to. The Duchess, on the other hand, was gorgeous, even in her age. Patrick and Anthony both bowed, as did the Rhodesian entourage. Rodney extended his hand. “It is a wonderful pleasure seeing you here.”



Anthony forced a smile and took his hand. “And a pleasure seeing you as well.” Anthony knew that his tone was about as insincere as it could get, but Rodney didn’t seem to notice. He simply smiled and whisked his wife off to the buffet. Anthony let out his breath, having nothing but distaste for the Duke of Rhodesia. He was a selfish, wasteful man who saw the citizens of his Duchy as his own personal playthings. So, as soon as Rodney had left, Anthony turned and moved in the opposite direction heading. He ended up at the bar area, where he got himself a champagne. The drink was amazing; the finest in the Federation. It was a rich gold color and bubbles flowed the bottom like tiny diamonds making their way through liquid gold. The glass was a tall, crystal flute with a delicate stem that would surely break if dropped. . He sipped it, the bubbles tangy on his tongue, and the crisp, clean liquid flowing down his throat. He turned to face the rest of the box, looking around. The royal announcer then announced a new arrival, one that Anthony actually wanted to see.



“Now announcing His Imperial Highness the 2nd Prince of Britain, Duke of York, Peter Norwich and his wife, Her Imperial Highness the 2nd Princess of Britain, Duchess of York, Eleanor Norwich.”