Infinitos Mundos

"England?"

"England."

"You're sending me to England?"

"Oui." Édouard Philippe, a Secretary of State attached to the Foreign Ministry was, to put it lightly, confused, when earlier that day his secretary told him Pierre de Gaulle wished to see him. "They will prove an invaluable partner in destroying the Communards..." Him and Pierre were lifelong friends, having attended elementary and high school, as well as the military academy and university together. They were of the same age, but Pierre was born of republican nobility, and Édouard? He was a Noir farm boy from the foothills. Their fates were not meant to collide. And yet when Philippe's father, a major in the army, was transferred to Oran, Édouard was able to attend a prestigious elementary school via a military stipend. "...and keeping out the Napoleons." The same school where the de Gaulle clan sent their young.

Knowing each other from the age of nine, the two grew up together, practically raised each other in the long shadows of their absent fathers. They became inseparable friends. When they finished elementary school, Pierre appealed to his father, just recently elected Chairman of the Committee, to help his friend attend the Académie Henri de Gaulle, the most prestigious high school in the country, in the suburbs of Algiers. Jean was hesitant, but alas, agreed. "Yea, I kinda put two and two together in that regard." They were top of their class all four years and were accepted together to the Académie du marquis de MacMahon, a prestigious military college under operation of de Gaulle University in Oran. They served their military terms in opposite parts of the country, Pierre in Rabat and Édouard in Tunis, but they stayed in touch and reunited back at de Gaulle University for their civilian studies. "I'm more curious about the me part than the England part."

"I trust you." After attaining their degrees their paths split. Pierre began to be groomed for his eventual takeover of the nation, while Édouard cashed in on his close ties with the 'royals' to climb up the ranks in the Foreign Ministry. They remained in touch throughout the years, though the frequency of their socializing diminished. "I know you'll do what you have to. And I know your results won't disappoint me." Now Pierre was the top dog from Djerba to Rabat, and Édouard was third-in-command at the Foreign Ministry. Quite the ascent for a farm boy from the Atlas, especially at such a young age, but he certainly was not expecting a formal audience with the Chairman the day after he was appointed. "And you won't betray me."

"And you think your Committee will betray you?" Philippe was always fascinated by Pierre's rampant, nail-biting paranoia, it amused him. "The men who unanimously approved your term?" A single raised eye brow formed an arching bridge across Édouard's river blue eye.

"They always approve unanimously." Pierre, smart, but not exactly a star on the emotional intelligence scale, did not pick up on Philippe's borderline taunting. "They're afraid we'll turn the army on them." He turned his emotionless gaze, his stone grey eyes out the window. He was never one for eye contact, and always loved diverting to the sea if he could, that way it seemed he was actually looking at something. Made his lack of social skills seem more acceptable than if he just stared at the ground. Édouard and the other members of the 'crown prince's friend group used to poke fun at these embarrassing habits, joking his stare was so cold it would freeze the ocean if he looked at it too long. "They vote for us, but when push come to shove, they always save themselves first."

The Secretary of State nearly suffered a heart attack when those lifeless grey eyes suddenly snapped to their right, and made contact with his. After the initial shock he quietly thought to himself "I could count the times he's done this on two hands..." Pierre took a step toward him, his dark blue officer's uniform, adorned with medals and honors - earned through the most sacred rite of... being born with the right name - espousing a level of, almost demanded, respect, and establishing a clear hierarchy with anyone he spoke with. It could intimidate anyone in the République - except Édouard. "God you look gay."

Pierre broke character and smiled. Édouard laughed lightheartedly. "Sweetie, I get you're the Chairman, and I get you de Gaulles have a reputation to maintain, but I've seen you naked in a high school locker room. Don't try the action movie shit with me." Philippe quickly tossed an examining eye from de Gaulle's face to his feet and back, all the while keeping his smug smile. "You were saying?"

"You will be Foreign Minister." Now Édouard was really in shock. "Pardon?" De Gaulle's own smile from before subsided. "You will be Foreign Minister. This is your test to see if you're fit for it."

"And if I'm not fit?" Pierre turned away, back toward his desk. "You'll also be Foreign Minister." The Secretary's eyebrow returned to its excited state, as he commented with a laugh in his voice. "Ah, I see. I must say you de Gaulles have an interesting selection process. I see now why we're having this discussion in Algiers instead of Paris." Pierre smiled again, his back turned to his decades long comrade. "Everything else in your life came from the supreme qualification of, well, knowing me." Still grinning he turned back to Édouard. "Why stop at Secretary of State?"

Recognizing an apparent outclass in wit, and by No-Fun de Gaulle of all people, Édouard smiled, and tipped his head in respect, "I'll pack my bags." and turned to the door. "Fax me what you want them to sign."

---

The following day Her Majesty's Government of the @United Kingdom would receive contact from Algiers, requesting an audience with the Prime Minister, Foreign Minister, or any other delegate of deemed appropriate stature, to discuss the establishment of relations, and special coordination in the Western European sphere.

10 Downing Street, London; Early Evening

A slight man in his late fifties sits at a large mahogany desk, reading through sheaves of paper bearing the marked of a crowned gate and chains. From the door, the reader's head pokes above neat stacks of paper battlements, biscuit in hand, slowly consumed as brown eyes scan from behind square glasses and a whisp of steam curls into the air from behind the ramparts.

A knock on the doorframe, then a cough. The reader finishes his biscuit and turns to look at the young secretary standing in the doorframe, "Yes, my dear, what is it?"

She steps forward, note in hand, "A message for you, from the French."

"You must be more specific Emily, There's at least three France's out and about these days, who knows how many more have popped up with the weeds?" He reaches up for the note as its handed over.

"The Algiers Republic, the ones that often style themselves as the Free French, rather than the Communards or Bonapartists."

"Well that's some small mercy at least." A pause as the note is read, "Very interesting. I'll draft a response to Algiers and have it sent down to Cabinet and Algiers in the morning, thank you." With a bobbed head and a "yessir" the secretary departs, leaving Robert Marshall, Prime Minister of Her Majesty's Government, to his work.

---

The following morning the government of the Algiers Republic receive a reply, accepting their request for an audience with the Prime Minister. The French delegate shall be welcome to a meeting with the PM at 10 Downing Street two days from delivery of the reply, the Foreign Office contacting Algiers shortly afterwards to arrange accommodation and itineraries.

Secretary Philippe and Foreign Minister Émile Bernard observed as the last bits of luggage were loaded on the Ministry's jet by the airport workers. Having been colleagues for three years now the young, energetic Édouard and the elder and wise Émile were on quite good terms, often seeing eye to eye with each other in diplomatic terms. "A de Gaulle who wants to buddy buddy with the Nords. I can hear Charles turning in his grave." Édouard remained silent, which Bernard recognized as uncommon for the witty quipping Secretary. Something seemed to disturb him, and had been disturbing him all morning. "Something wrong, Secretary?"

"I will replace you." Émile was... confused and dumbfounded by the statement. "Uhh...?" Édouard turned his head to his superior, a look of honest worry in his eyes. "He told me in his office when he gave me this assignment. I will be Foreign Minister." He paused a moment, a suffocating silence took over. He looked back to the plane. "I don't know what that entails for you. But having known Pierre for three decades," A defeated sigh "I can think of a few ideas." The silence again took over. It felt like thick smoke in the air, it almost penetrated your body, made it hard to swallow and breath as it pressed against the diplomats from all directions. "You have to leave."

---

A few hours later, Véronique, the official Foreign Ministry aircraft, requests to land in London.

The aircraft is given clearance to land at London City airport.

[skipping to meeting]

Te Prime minister stands at the door of No. 10 to greet the Algier's representative.