Harold's Sheiky experience

Harold sat in the back seat of the Rolls Royce looking out over the Channel, he was parked on the end of the Southend pier waiting for his guests to arrive. He could see that the weather was starting to close in, and it wouldn't be too long before the winter snows started to bog everything down. He hated the sight of the grey slushy snow that fell in London, the air pollution was at its worst in the winter, and everyone cranked up their oil heaters and the chimneys were constantly pumping coal smoke out day and night. He decided he would retire to the estate he had procured, from a lack lustre Lord, near Warsham.

He saw the small launch appear off to the right bobbing up and down on the semi-rough waters of the channel. He would hate to be ploughing through that in a tiny launch, the thought of the sheiks vomiting over the side made him giggle to himself. To those around him, it was just another example of the lunacy that was slowly taking over the King. He was so unpredictable at the moment, a lot of the reports coming in were deliberately being kept from him. The news that the Northern Regiment had been routed and that there were no known survivors had thrown the King in a rage that lasted six hours and had almost cost one poor chap, who was in the worst place at the worst time, his life.

As Harold sat there watching the launch he thought about the current hostilities and how his troops were handling the Rebel Armies. His smiled as he thought about the fact that his advisors thought he was being kept out of the loop, but he had his own sources and he was well aware of what was happening. Hence he was going ahead with this meeting to try and arrange an alliance with the Persian Empire, Harold needed the troop support and materiel to prosecute this Civil War in his favour. He had no concerns about the honour and honesty of the Persian Emperor, Mordred El Hussein. In his mind he was far too powerful an ally for Mordred to renege and try and take over the British Empire. Besides once the Rebels were routed and his bastard nephew was dead, he would have the sword and the Persians would be held at bay by the sheer power and magnificence of his power.

He was brought back to the present by the sight of the Persian representatives walking up the gangway from the floating pontoon. All were dressed in their traditional robes and head covers, not a single woman among them. Of course the Persians saw women as property and not people. There was something to that, he thought to himself.

"Good evening Gentlemen." Harold greeted the Persian.

"Assalamualaikum." The man in the front of the party said to Harold with a slight bow.

"Yes, yes, all that. Shall we head back to the Palace where we can talk more comfortably?" He asked. The head of the mission grimaced slightly, then nodded and entered the car and sat back for the ride to the Palace. His mission all got into the cars waiting especially for them.

Harold sat at the conference table watching the Persian Ambassador, he was an ugly man, his eyes were jaundiced, his hands seem to shake as though he was in desperate need of a drink, his beak like nose dominated his features, and he rarely showed the slightest facial expressions. Harold was, overall, revolted by the man, and tried his best to keep his eyes on the wall over the man's shoulder. Anything to not have to look at the sheer ugliness of the man.

"Your Highness," one of the interpreters started. "The Persian Empire sympathises with your plight, and we would be happy to help you in any way that is feasible, but Ambassador El Shahoud asks what advantages the British Empire can offer the Persian Empire." The old man was watching him like a hawk, there was no underestimating this one.

"While I have not got the land based military that your immense Empire boasts, but I do have the most powerful navy in the world." He bragged. "Ask your master what that would bring to the Persians, if they had reliable and powerful naval vessels to support an attack?" He sat back as the interpreter passed on the question. After a minute of talking in their own language the younger man responded.

"But you have but one fleet? How could this be a powerful force?" Harold smiled and considered his reply.

"Once the rebel forces have been routed and the country is firmly back under my control, you will be able to add three more fleets of equal size or bigger to the British naval force. None can stand against the full might of the British Navy." He was almost ready to explain the obvious, but resisted the urge to brag more.

"So you are willing to ally your forces with the Persian Empire, if, the Empire supplies you forces to put down this rebellion?"

"I think about encompasses the offer on the table." Harold answered.

"Please let us discuss the matter privately, Your Highness."

"Of course, I have a few matters to attend to, so please take all the time you need." Harold replied with as much grace as he could force out. The Persians looked at him for a moment, then bowed and thanked him. Harold stood, the fact that the Persians didn't was something he would revisit in the future when he had the Sword and he was the one controlling the situation. He grunted and walked off to his office.

"The infidel thinks he is brokering an alliance with the mighty Persian Empire, it makes my skin crawl just being in the same room as that slithering viper." The Ambassador said quite firmly.

"Yes, he is doing his best to get us to settle his internal squabbles." The aide agreed.

"If he were a true leader he would execute a few of the rebel's families and they would crumble within days."

"It is as the Chosen one predicted, it would give us an unexpected opportunity to gather a very significant force in this country so when the time came, we would already have forces in there rear." The second aide offered.

"Yes it does offer us a real chance to break the British forces without a very expensive frontal sea attack. If in the process of crushing these so-called rebels under the boot heal of the Persian Empires best and toughest soldiers, we happen to disable a large part of the Naval Force, well so much the better." The Ambassador looked down at the notes he had in front of him. "But we do have to defeat the Son of the man that killed Eviar Unaxx that alone would be a prize too great for the Chosen one to ignore."

Upon hearing of his Brother's death, Mordred's father had suffered a massive stroke that eventually killed him. Since that time, Mordred had sworn to wipe the English Royalty off the map and erase their existence from the histories. Mordred had idolised his uncle and when he was told that Unaxx was beheaded by Uther, he swore vengeance.

"Call that fool back and we will make him squirm a bit before agreeing to his request, maybe we can get him to make a few changes in our favour." The Ambassador chuckled, no one else dare join him, his laugh sounded as though it came from the depths of hell. One of the junior aides left the room to get Harold back. A few minutes later, Harold strolled in and sat in his chair at the head of the table. He seemed to spend an inordinate amount of time preening before turning his attention to the Ambassador.

"So, have we an agreement?" He asked expectantly.

"The Ambassador can definitely see the advantages you have pointed out, but there remains the matter of how this Alliance would be an advantage to the Empire?" He looked to the Ambassador and they both nodded, "perhaps the British would consider a military base for our people to work out of and of course, with the difference in our cultures, have a place that they could worship and relax in peace."

"How about we see how the initial agreement goes and then we can revisit the possibility of a Persian base on British soil. I will say that if all goes to plan, I can foresee no impediment to that being a reality." Harold had expected more from these camel herders, but if they were going to try and be that transparent, then he would lead them down the path of destruction. After a few more minutes of trying to squeeze Harold, the Persians finally agreed, Harold smiled and bowed formally to the Persians first, an attempt by him to make them feel better about a deal that would destroy them in the end.