[ WP ] Two veterans meet . They fought on different sides .

2189·10·21 16:15:04 The Old Gaol, Northumberland 
 
 The Old Gaol had n't been used for locking up prisoners for centuries, but after the War of Restoration there were a lot of prisoners whose crimes prevented any chance of clemency or repatriation, prisoners on both sides. 
 
 The newly crowned King Edward, already known by the epithet `` King Edward the Liberator'' had taken off his customary golden armour and laid down his sword before walking along the devastated streets to the gaol. The Protectorate's bombs had laid waste to most of his country, this place had got off comparatively lightly. There might not have been any electricity, gas or clean water but at least this land was now free, despite the best efforts of the man who the King planned to visit. The King had ridden on horseback, if his subjects could n't fly, drive or take a train he certainly would n't either. 
 
 He was expected at the gaol, the guards and warden bowed before him, and the Warden lead him to the topmost cell. It was n't an uncomfortable place of incarceration, a soft bed had been laid along with a table of real food, none of the synthetic rubbish fed to the other prisoners. The Warden and his guards were apprehensive, this might have been a time of celebration and rebuilding but it was also a time of uncertainty, instability and fear for the post-war future so the safety of the King was paramount. The King in contrast knew his enemy, the first time they'd met he'd been the prisoner. He knew his vanquished foe would be honourable in defeat. 
 
 `` General Richter'' the King began. `` I believe it is customary for the victor to have a drink with his old enemy before we proceed to the unpleasant business of a trial''. The King produced a bottle of French-made red wine, the great liberator of Britain and Ireland had always considered British-made wine undrinkable. As the General turned to accept his glass, the cheap light threw his features into sharp relief. In contrast to the King's long, dark-blonde hair and luminous green eyes which practically shouted of genetic engineering, the General had dark, buzz-cut hair and eyes like black holes, snatching everything that fell in and revealing absolutely nothing. He nodded in thanks to his enemy, and raised his glass. `` *ad honorem*'' he said with a German accent. For honour. 
 
 The fight had been brutal and to the bitter end, the death toll had been incalculable and the victory pyrrhic. The General and the King did not discuss politics, it would have been the same arguments that had started the war, the General claiming the Protectorate had saved humanity from self-inflicted extinction at the hands of climate change and its totalitarian rule, the abolition of nations and the destruction of much cultural heritage was the cost of our survival. The King would have argued the terrible famines, brutal political oppression and cultural vandalism had rendered life not worth living, and humanity must live free or die within liberal nations. The war had settled those arguments, just as it had settled the rivalry between the King and General. 
 
 `` What do they expect of me?'' asked the General to the King. The King replied `` They intend to try you for crimes against humanity, unlawful occupation of the Home Nations and my personal favourite, unlawfully operating a spacecraft close to a city among other things''. 
 
 `` I will not get a fair trial, your people want a good show''. 
 
 `` I know. I'm afraid that's the way it is in war, it has n't been gentlemanly since the old days of Empire''. 
 
 `` Until now. I like that we can sit down as men, victor and vanquished, regardless of ideology. It gives me hope''. 
 
 `` I know, it is a shame we fought as enemies. If we had been allies even the Empires would have trembled before us!''. 
 
 `` Perhaps we shall, in another life. Another time''. It showed the gravity of the moment that a general of the Protectorate would make a religious comment. Atheism had been such a part of the government's ideology even the Sistine Chapel and Cheops Pyramid had been ground into dust. As they sipped their wine they shared a moment that seemed to contain an eternity, the cordial atmosphere between the arch-rivals in the war seemed almost funny in the midst of all the devastation. It might have been a time of celebration, rebuilding, uncertainty and instability but it was also a time for reconciliation. Between Revolutionary and Loyalist, Island and Continent and those who differed in their beliefs for how humanity should survive. 
 
 `` Your Majesty, the Royal Signals are reporting their first successes in the Newfoundland campaign'' came a voice through the door, shattering the moment almost as soon as it had begun. 
 
 `` I must leave'' said the King, as he stood, shook the hand of his enemy and walked through the door into a new future. The General noticed the King had left something behind on the table and reached over. He could n't conceal a smile, even at the end his enemy had a sense of humour. The apple was the plant of the Protectorate, a plant grown all around the world was good symbol for postnationalism. The King had been merciful, after all these years of exchanging bombs and bullets, lasers and propaganda the final volley was a poisoned apple. 
 
 General Richter bit into the fruit and breathed his last, content that all had done their duty.
