CHAPTER 257: DO YOU WISH TO SERVE THE KINGDOM?

In the kingdom, the date for the National Election was declared, and soon the entire nation was consumed by it. It was widely accepted among the public that, in the wake of the Stockport Scandal and its fallout, the opposition party was poised for victory. The only question now being debated was which supposedly "safe seats" of the ruling party would fall. The government found itself in a precarious position, with the constituencies of several former ministers and MPs... tainted by their connection to the scandal had already been marked as vulnerable.

By contrast, the opposition party moved in a markedly relaxed mood. Even in constituencies where their sitting MPs had been arrested, they showed little anxiety, confident that their perceived integrity during the Stockport affair would return those seats to them. Aspiring candidates had already submitted application forms, CVs, and personal statements; the vetting process was underway, and local party offices bustled with feverish activity.

At the centre of it all stood the opposition leader, Baron Anthony Hayward Chapman of Bethnal Green, who had become the emblem of the party’s election campaign. Leaders and supporters alike raised him to near-idol status, extolling both his personal integrity and his family’s long service to the kingdom. His repeated refusals of high office were now recounted as proof of selfless dedication. The narrative spreading across rallies and social media told of a man who had lived his entire life in service to the people and the party, and who, when the Stockport Scandal nearly brought the movement to collapse, had reluctantly taken up the mantle of leadership at the people’s request.

On social platforms and search engines, his name surged to the top of global trends, the story of Baron Chapman spread far beyond the borders of the kingdom.

***

In an old villa at the end of George Road, beside the Worcester and Birmingham Canal, John Smith returned home after another long day. The house had belonged to his family for generations. Now, only he and a handful of staff remained within its walls.

At sixty-five, John was still sharp, though solitude weighed on him. His wife had passed away two years earlier; his children lived in London, consumed by their careers. His only sister had settled in America decades ago. Apart from Christmas, no one returned to Birmingham. He alone kept the old villa alive.

Upon arriving, he went directly to the bath. This ritual never changed: half an hour immersed in warm water while the staff prepared dinner. It was the one true indulgence he allowed himself, despite being one of the wealthiest and most influential men in the region.

He closed his eyes, letting the heat seep into his bones, when a voice cut through the silence. "Oh! The Mayor of West Midlands does enjoy his bath."

John’s eyes flew open. He lurched upright in the tub, water sloshing over the rim. Decades of hard-nerved battles in politics and business steadied him, but still, the shock was immense. His villa was guarded by police and reinforced by his own private security. For someone to slip past them and into his bathroom... this was no ordinary trespass. Only an assassin of the highest calibre could achieve such a feat.

As a politician, he had long accepted the risk of assassination. Still, he had believed himself careful... never directly crossing any of the major powers. Even so, his mind sharpened instantly. There was a panic button installed near the tub, meant for emergencies. If he could create a diversion, perhaps he could reach it.

Before he could act, the voice spoke again, calm and dismissive. "Do not waste your time with the panic button. It has already been cut off. And spare me the sight of a naked old man. Stay where you are. I have not come to kill you. I came to talk."

Defeated, John leaned back into the water, forcing composure into his limbs. Slowly, he turned his head towards the intruder.

On the far side of the room, a man in black sat comfortably in a chair that had been taken from another room... there were no chairs in the bathroom to begin with. His clothing covered him completely, his face hidden beneath a dark mask. Not a trace of identity showed.

"Who are you?" John asked, mustering what courage he could.

"Wrong question," the man replied evenly. "The right question is... what do I want?"

John swallowed hard, adjusted, and said, "Very well... how can I help you?"

"Good. That’s the question I like." The man’s voice was smooth, deliberate. "Don’t be alarmed. I’ve no intention of harming you. I came to deliver a proposal... from your future Prime Minister, Lord Anthony Hayward Chapman."

John’s brows furrowed. Chapman was his party leader; he could have summoned him at any hour with a simple call. Why send an intruder to his bathroom, of all places?

The man went on, his tone calm but edged with certainty. "You’ve been Mayor here for nearly a decade. Your popularity is waning. Our projections suggest you won’t survive the next cycle. But the situation can change. Apply for this constituency. After the election, you’ll be Minister of State for Investment. The party needs you in central government."

"Or... you can finish your term as Mayor, retire in two years, and be quietly forgotten. The choice is yours. Think carefully tonight. The party expects your application tomorrow."

John, seasoned enough never to betray what he was thinking, kept silent until the man had finished. Then he asked quietly, "And why should I believe you? If Baron Chapman wanted this of me, he... or the party leaders could tell me directly."

The man chuckled, low and unhurried. "Because we expect you would refuse the order outright. And we don’t force loyalty. The decision is yours. Think of this... as a parting gift."

From his cloak, the intruder produced a phone and placed it within reach. The screen was already lit.

John glanced down... and froze. His blood turned cold. Displayed on the screen was a detailed statement of his secret Swiss Bank transactions. Every figure, every transfer, every sum was exact. He knew them all. No forgery could have been this precise.

With trembling fingers, he deleted the file immediately. But the phone did not clear. A video had been left open.

John’s breath caught in his throat as he watched. It was him... last week... in a Manchester hotel room with a young lady councillor. The images were damning. His voice broke as he stammered, "H... how did you get this?"

No reply came. He lifted his eyes. The chair was empty. The man was gone.

John lurched out of the tub, dripping, his mind racing. Dressing hastily, he stormed out into the hall. One of his private guards stood at attention outside his door.

"Did anyone enter my room?" John demanded, his voice sharp, urgent.

The guard blinked in confusion at the sudden question, then shook his head. "No, sir. No one’s been in or out. I’ve been here the whole time."

***

Sevenoaks was a peaceful town, all rolling green hills and wooded landscapes. After sunset, quiet fell over the streets like a blanket, the world shrinking to soft lamplight and the whisper of leaves.

Major General (Ret.) Alison Carter returned from his evening walk and let himself into his home. As the lock clicked open and the door swung wide, he froze.

A woman sat in the lounge, elegant and composed, sipping tea as though she owned the place. She was strikingly beautiful, her black business suit tailored to sharp perfection, her posture radiating calm control.

The moment she saw him, she set down her cup and rose slowly. "Good evening, General Carter. My name is Cassandra Blanc. Baron Anthony Hayward Chapman of Bethnal Green sent me to have a confidential meeting with you. Do I have your attention?"

Alison, though taken aback, masked it with the practiced composure of a soldier. He walked to the lounge and lowered himself into the armchair opposite her. "We can talk here. My wife and I are the only ones who live in this house."

Cassandra’s lips curved into a knowing smile. She had already anticipated that answer. She lifted the teacup delicately. "In that case, I can address you both. After all, what I’m about to say may affect both of your lives. And I must thank her for this fine tea."

At that, his wife entered from the adjoining room, drawn by his voice. Cassandra gestured graciously. "Madam, please, join us."

When they were seated, Cassandra set the cup aside and leaned forward just slightly, her tone shifting to business. "General Carter, your service record speaks for itself. I won’t waste words repeating what you already know. What I wish to discuss is not your career... but your family. Your late father served as a Kent County Council member under our party for eight years. He was widely respected, a pillar in the community. This region has never been fertile ground for us, but we intend to change that."

Her eyes sharpened, the polished calm of her voice hiding steel beneath velvet. "The party leaders want you to stand as our candidate in this constituency. We understand you’ve shown little interest in politics and prefer the peace of retirement. But Lord Chapman wishes to give you the chance to serve the kingdom once more. If elected, you will be nominated as Minister of State for the Armed Forces. That declaration will be made before the election, so voters know they are not electing simply an MP... but a State Minister."

She let the words settle between them like the weight of inevitability. "I know this is sudden. I am here only to convey Lord Chapman’s intention. The decision rests with you."

Alison was silent for a long time, his expression unreadable. At last, he said slowly, "Miss Blanc, thank you for your time... and the party’s interest. But I am not wealthy enough to fight an election. And I have no experience in politics."

Cassandra’s smile returned, warm but edged with calculation. "You need not worry about either. The party will bear all expenses for your campaign. Not a single penny will leave your account during or after the election. We are aware of your situation. That is not the issue. What matters is only this... do you wish to serve the kingdom one last time... or not?"