Prologue: THE COUP
THE COUP
London, the heart of the Commonwealth, has seen dark periods in history, from the Romans to the Saxons, the Viking invasions, the French invasion. Looking from the window it was a city bustling with activity most of the times, old friends going to a pub, workers heading to their factories, families going to the church on Sunday. Yet, tonight it was quiet, and a depressing atmosphere reigned, a mix of fog, cold, and rain that could sadden even the brightest child and freeze the hottest hearts. Yet looking at such a late hour... 22:37 PM according to the watch, you could see what otherwise you can’t with all the people moving around. You see the rats on the streets, the hungry hound looking for a place to hide, the sewage going to the Thames, and occasionally one or other shady figure of the underworld moving in the shadows. The rain continued pouring in a calming sound, only disturbed by thunders, which scared those of faint heart. It was natural, humans are afraid of such sounds, the sound of a thunder, of an explosion, a shot, and that night, these sounds were being heard all over the 10th Downing Street.
Lord Protector Cochrane, the man that has been in charge of the nation for 20 years. It was taught from pulpits and classrooms that he was God’s chosen to lead Britannia, that he was infallible and was always taking care of the people. But did he believe that himself ? As he watched the rain pouring outside, he reminded himself of his young days, fighting in what was once called “The Royal Navy” for King George, an old crazy buffoon who brought the nation to ruin. He fought bravely at the sea against the French, the Americans, the Spanish, and it was all for nothing. He was there when Napoleon revealed his “Iron Frigates”, he remembered how the cannon balls bounced off the hull of those monsters, he was there when the Royal Navy failed and Lord Nelson died with the “HMS Victory”. Cochrane continued to fight, not for his king, but for his country, and they eventually won, all thanks to Wellesley, the first Lord Protector.
Cochrane became the Lord Protector after Wellesley’s death, he worked to make Britannia a great nation, expanding itself across the oceans in India, Africa, and Oceania. A nation fueled by vengeance, embarking in two conflicts against the French, fighting in Iberia against the forces of Bonaparte and his savage hound Bellegarde, his men fought well, especially the young General Charles Marx and his undefeated Army. Yet it was not enough to beat the French, and then Britannia was stabbed in the back. Cochrane should’ve learned the lesson by now, he should’ve learned from Lord Wellesley: Never trust one of those inbred degenerates that root seated in a throne all day. The Spanish and Portuguese monarchs, in their desperation, gave up their souls in exchange for their thrones, and Bonaparte gave him an ultimatum: Leave Iberia or be crushed. Marx was a stubborn one, he wanted to continue the war all the way to Paris, but Cochrane gave up and recognized the Pact of Bordeaux, retreating his force from Iberia.
And now he was paying the price, the sounds weren’t just thunders, they were bullets, with his guards desperately fighting inside the house against the intruders. But it was of no use, he knew, the time has come. He was with his old navy pistol in his frail left hand, holding a cane in the right one, the elderly Lord Protector was just a walking corpse at his 80s, the stress of the position had damaged him more than any bullet from his time in the navy, then suddenly, the sounds stopped. A last cry was silenced outside, then the sound of boots as 3 men kicked down the door of his Office. Two soldiers dressed in red uniforms flanking a man in his late 30s, using an army officer uniform with medals he won from Ireland to Spain, with a short handlebar mustache in his face, with a mix of smoke and blood sprayed on his face, holding a revolver pointing to the elderly Lord Protector.
“General Marx.”
“Lord Admiral Cochrane, I accuse you of conspiring with France to sabotage the commonwealth and of treason against Britannia.”
“This is treason, General.”
Cochrane uncooked his pistol, turning around and pointing it against Marx, the child of German parents who claimed himself more Anglo-Saxon as him. Yet, Marx was not scared of the old pistol, he knew Cochrane afterall.
“Spare this bullet to yourself.”
What followed was a tense standoff, when the realization of what was happening came to Cochrane. He had lost his position on the day he retreated his army from Iberia, Marx’s veterans had already taken over the city, which is why the streets were so empty, and his own legitimacy was gone. The Lord Protector is infallible, blessed by God and as such, always victorious, but he lost, and no matter what he did next, there was nothing that could be done. And as he realized that, he slowly lowered his pistol, raising it again, this time against his head. He would not allow those upstarts to savor their last triumph, he wouldn’t let himself be killed, the only person allowed to take his life was himself.
“Rule Britannia !”
Those were his last words as he pulled the trigger, it all faded to black, he fell on the ground while blood and brains were splattered on the window. The two guards would grab the body, holding his arms and legs, a third one came behind with a can of oil, as the body was brought outside to the burned, the rain of London continued falling, making it impossible to light it on fire. Instead it was tossed away into the Thames, thrown from the Westminster bridge to the polluted waters of the river, the Lord Admiral would rest where he lived, in the sea, leaving behind a new Britannia, and the entire world would pay the price.
In the morning, the members of Parliament were all rounded inside the House of Commons. The Parliament was in charge of daily affairs and being a glorified rubber stamp for the Lord Protector ever since the days of Wellesley, but now it was about to change. They were awoken rudely by soldiers, being rushed inside the building at 09:00 AM, some still in nightwear, when Marx appeared with his troops, barging inside the room with no respect to protocol at all taking the seat of the Speaker, after the silence came back to the room and the mumbling stopped, he rose from his seat to address them.
“Members of Parliament, I regret to inform that Lord Protector Cochrane has committed suicide last night, his body was found in the Thames with a shot in the head by his own pistol.”
He gave them a moment to absorb the news, after that he spoke again.
“As it has been done since Lord Protector Wellesley ousted the decadent Monarchy, the Parliament must now confirm the name of a new Lord Protector for the Commonwealth. As such, I, Charles Henry Marx, submit my name for your approval.”
That moment, every Member of Parliament understood what was happening, and why they were rushed in by soldiers. They noticed how they were surrounded by redcoat guards, all with rifles loaded and ready to ensure the next step. No one dared to raise a complaint, and in order to give a sense of fairness, one of the soldiers was chosen as an opposition candidate, but of course it was mere formality, and General Marx was unanimously declared Lord Protector of the Commonwealth of Britannia. Marx “humbly” accepted the burden, the opposition candidate would recognize the result, and the new Lord Protector would speak to the Parliament.
“This is a moment where Britannia is on the edge of the abyss. Cochrane has failed the legacy of Wellesley and betrayed our nation while our armies remained undefeated, giving in to lesser races and the worst maggots of them all, the French. As I have learned from all these years, the French are the eternal enemies of the Anglo-Saxon Master Race, the enemies of Britannia ! There shall be no compromise with them, and neither with any of the traitors. Britannia has no friends, other races cannot be trusted, we have interests, and our interest is the continued advancement of our race, which shall one day be pitted against the French, and only one shall remain. We must never be weak, we must never be divided, the Commonwealth shall rule not just the waves, but the world ! Rule Britannia !”
The soldiers replied, raising their closed right hand fist, it was the new salute “Rule Britannia” they echoed in the room, followed by all members of Parliament, an new era had started, with the rise of Marxism in the Commonwealth, the most destructive ideology that will be ever seen in the world.
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Say hello to the second part of my timeline, starting with “Empire of Freedom” now we enter a much darker era, the age of Marx, the Commonwealth, that acts in the shadows for the moment to reveal itself. And while the world approaches a final confrontation between the Bonapartes and both the old order and the new revolutions, the Commonwealth prepares itself to launch the launch the most destructive weapon the world has ever seen: Project Darwin.You can see part one here: https://www.alternatehistory.com/fo...om-the-history-of-the-american-empire.476513/
