Post by simon darkshade on Apr 4, 2021 18:50:50 GMT
A New Jerusalem Part 14
Stanley Barton thought of himself as many things. A decent Godfearing family man, for certain; a proud Englishman and loyal subject of the Queen, without a question; a Labour man and friend to the ordinary worker, of course; and captain of his team, not its lord and master. He knew the Army and Navy well and true, but never had he thought himself a master of this subject.
Magic.
The Prime Minister held many responsibilities, yet the command and oversight of the Ministry of Magic and the other supernatural forces of the realm was not one he particularly relished. Oh, he was far from the ranks of one of the Arkists, but wizardry was something beyond his area of comfort and true trust. Nevertheless, it was his duty. The position of Minister of Magic was one of a handful of ones in the Cabinet that were not held by Members of Parliament and even that particular custom was one that some wanted to change under the rallying cry of modernisation.
Neither the necessarily most powerful nor the most senior of the wizards of the realm, the role of the Minister had grown to become akin to the chancellorship of one of the great universities in its mixture of ceremony and administration; indeed, the position did carry with it the title of Archmage of Oxford. The man who sat opposite him now was in many ways the epitome of that modern tendency, yet his skills in organisation, delegation and coordinating the oft fragile egos of wizardkind were not doubted by any who had worked with him. Alcuin Spong had held the position of Minister of Magic for almost twelve years now, longer than any other since Professor Tolkien during the war, and had been responsible for considerable change.
The groundwork for the expansion of the magical personnel resources of the British Empire had been laid in the final years of the Second World War, as the massive expansion in the arcane capacity of the United States and the Soviet Union had threatened to leave Britain behind in the dust. The Arcane Education Act of 1944 had established the framework for universal magical aptitude testing at 6 and 11 and considerably expanded the educational machinery for training those with the potential spark to learn the Art, founding four new magical colleges, bringing Britain’s total to nine. Whilst this increased the raw numbers going through the exacting trials and learning that would grant them entry into magical apprenticeship, it could not shorten that complex and sometimes dangerous process. Spong had been the one to come up with the three pronged solution to the conundrum and it remained an elegant one to this day.
Firstly, specialised offers would be extended to the independent wizards of the realm to attempt to persuade them to register with the Ministry, which had encountered middling success. Secondly, the Great Reclassification of 1952 brought hundreds back into the fold who had previously failed one of their tests of mastery by offering them second opportunities or technical employment. Finally, there has been the British Empire Wizardly Scheme. Like many of the grand plans of Imperial cooperation, it had been slow to start, but, to Barton’s pleasure, Spong was the bearer of good tidings on this day.
“680 a year, Prime Minister, rising to 1000 within five years. A thousand apprentices per annum is considerably more than we currently turn out in Britain on a good year, and we’re on track to increase that as well as the college system begins to crank up to full speed.”
“What does that mean for us in bottom line terms?”
“We’ll nearly double the current number of apprentices within a year, from 2437 as of last Thursday. Where we currently have three hundred and fifty qualifying for their Tests every year, we’ll have at least six hundred by the end of the 1960s. Factoring in the gradual improvement in survival rates and a maintenance of current standards and there will be up to two hundred and fifty newly qualified adepts every year. That is on top of the hundred Commonwealth adepts from their own institutions that we get under the primary article of the BEWS.”
“And those British apprentices who live but do not pass...”
“Are funnelled back into either retraining or the technical services. We estimate that from the current pool of some four thousand Reclassifieds, we can get a good eight hundred qualified over the next five years.”
“Five hundred wizards a year. Factoring in your current Ministry roll of 2837 and the 1174 independents, that would put paid to the deficits in the service numbers and government requirements to boot. Good.”
“All well and good indeed, Prime Minister, but much, much more can be done than merely focussing our wizardly resources on the military and civil service. For example, our Technomantic Research Department has come up with a list of twelve new projects, as you can see here, ranging from improvements to quality of life to industrial production. We defend the land from its foes, both arcane and profane, but this is but the tip of the iceberg.”
Barton glanced through the vellum pages that Spong had handed to him; always with their little touches to emphasise their difference, the wizards were. It was all very slick and persuasive, which rather ironic in light of the eleventh suggestion, sorcerous augmentation of BBC broadcasts by enchantment specialists to influence opinions abroad. Britain had always been a more magical country than some, down to the very pattern of the ley lines cross-crossing the land itself and the various heritage of the elven days of yore, but this inherent nature had been harnessed to impressive effect since the Arcane Revolution. The great magical railways, imaginariums, lush farmlands and forests and the grand spell engines were the most obvious of these, but there were also the dozens of smaller, everyday inventions and spells that made life easier and richer. It wasn’t the worst expenditure of the government’s time, treasure and effort, really.
The first three proposals were solidly practical - a system of protective and safety dweomers over airports and railway stations to prevent any crashes; deep delving and mining magics to both extend and explore the nation’s mineral resources, but also expand to subterranean facilities; and automated regular town and street cleaning devices. Nothing truly groundbreaking, apart from the delving in a literal sense, but decent improvements in their own small ways. The fourth proposal, for the development, testing, creation and mass production of specialised potions to augment strength, growth, dental health and associated endurance that would then be distributed through the water supply, was again a tangible public good, provided all contingencies were thoroughly thought through prior to execution. Speed enhancement devices for machinery had quite a few applications of use, as did the development of large scale shrinking and enlarging artifacts; being able to carry up to six times the amount of cargo in an aircraft or ship would open up quite a few possibilities. That type of enchantment had only been used on foodstuffs to this point due to the requirement of temperature and their already small scale, but if it could be applied to other goods...interesting...
The second half of Spong’s list built further upon this tantalising potential in a similar fashion. A telepathic communications network over a wide area offered considerable advantages, as did interactive television. In the former case, it would cut down reaction times, allow to redirection of effort and provide for rather more secure lines of communication in some circumstances, provided that the lessons from the IPCRESS affair could be properly incorporated and the relevant networks geas-locked. The employment of “artificer intelligences” in newly advanced robotic automatons seemed dangerously close to Dr. Frankenstein’s benighted territory in some respects, but the safeguards seemed stringent enough and there were many advantages to robotic machines, as the American Professor Asimov had demonstrated when Barton had been over at the Pentagon. The tenth proposal seemed to be the product of a fervent lover of Venn diagrams addicted to pervitin, but amidst the sixteen intersecting ellipses superimposed over London, there were some interesting confluences of zones of influence, repulsion and suggestion that could be of utility for Scotland Yard and the City alike. Curious.
The last two items seemed banal on the surface - sunlight gathering and localised chronological distorters - but Barton’s heart skipped a beat when the consequences sunk in. Being able to convert and focus energy into controlled sorecerous beams could solve some serious issues that the Ministry of Space had been lamenting over and as for the other...
“How far could this distortion be extended?”
“A very limited area, Prime Minister, and at the cost of a lot of thaumaturgical power; not so much area either, given that we’re working in four dimensions. Something the size of yon cupboard is the current limit.”
“Good. Good. That one is definitely approved, straight off the bat. I’d like to see how your experiments work at altitude and in vacuums.”
“Very well.” Spong looked at Barton as if he was clearly quite, quite potty. “The simple matter is that we cannot pursue all of them, not with our present numbers, budget and power. We do have some other more abstract project currently underway at Darkmoor and Stonehenge that are rather more theoretical in nature, but just as vital to our future as an arcane superpower, chief of which is Project Iris. We know that both the Americans and Russians are working on finding or creating new colours of magic and we simply cannot afford to be left behind. We cannot!”
“I quite agree. That, the dimensional studies and the Grand Spell Engine can continue. I’ll have to consider my decision on the project list carefully. It is the calculus of war and peace, just as it always is. Every one of you that is working on something to make this world better is one that isn’t working on ways to better destroy it.”
“Such is the way of this world, Prime Minister. For that, we do have additional military options in place, as well as the ongoing programmes of production, testing and protection. The Royal Corps of War Mages takes the main role in the development of battle magic spells, but our Department of Metamagic works hand in hand with them on enchantments and items of projection. The Army is currently testing our latest artillery range extension enchantments and darksight devices, Farscry will be complete in two years and the new war machines are progressing well up at Darkmoor.
“I’ll come and see them when I’m next in Scotland. Those are largely a matter for the future, though. What can you give us today? I need something tangible to give to Cabinet, as much as the long term projects sound fine.”
“Have a glance at these, Prime Minister.” Spong handed over a brightly coloured conspectus; obviously, he has come prepared. “First and foremost, there is our production of magical weapons and armours. We have five different variants of the L1A1 with enchanted augmentation of range, accuracy, armour penetration, rate of fire and reduced weight - we’d obviously like to get something that combines all of them, but it is simply too costly and time consuming for mass production at this time. One whole circle is working on artillery and there we have been able to achieve 25% greater range and rate of fire for the new Light Gun and can hopefully carry that over to the heavier pieces. We’ve made considerable advances is powerswords and shock lances as well, but our largest success has been in armour. We’re reducing the weight and testing the integration of new features at the request of the War Office and we’ve been able to apply the defensive enchantments to very light fabrics suitable for under-armour use, providing what amounts to an extra layer.”
“Very good. The cost barrier remains the primary obstacle, though.”
“As ever; it will never be cheap to build thousands of any enchanted object, let alone hundreds of thousands. On the last page, you can see the most recent developments from the Department of Arcane Weaponry: New runes and spells of protection for capital ships and aircraft; the Superhaste engines for certain armoured vehicles, as your predecessor requested; and mobile shield generators for tanks and planes.”
“That last item sounds the most interesting. How?”
“We’ve managed to get a shield generation device small and enough to fit in an individual vehicle whilst still providing enough protection for up to six direct hits; previously, we couldn’t sustain more than one, but by by inverting the arcane flow through a prismatron encased in orichalchite, we’ve done it. Cost is still reasonably high, but it will fall as we produce more and get the Royal Manufactory onto the job.”
“That will do quite nicely and will get you what you need in the short term, Grand Master. Insofar that it is possible, we’re going to keep to the dual track approach of military preparation and civil wizardry - the world situation gives us no alternative.We need to increase our wizardly numbers in the Armed Forces and supporting services, so I’d like you to prepare some recommendations as to how that can be accomplished.”
“There are certain measures available to you, Prime Minister...”
“And I know them well. We shall try the full bunch of carrots first of all on both the WIL and the IWS, along with the true independents. We shall have to see.”
.....................................
After the meeting with Spong, Barton would have preferred something a bit more mundane before elevenses, but Sir Obo had arranged these appointments to be scheduled in rapid succession in order to free up time for the other requirements of the office. This at least was only a matter of reviewing the executive summary of a report - the Demihuman Report in this case, or “A Humble Report to the Crown on Her Majesty’s Non-Human Subjects, Vassals, Tenants, Tributaries and Dominions of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland under the Supremacy of the Crown Pursuant to the Statutum Eboracum of 1287”.
The Civil Service did so love to give things their full titles.
The particular circumstances of the demihumans of the British Isles extended back to the pact forged at York in the reign of Edward I that formally bound together the then Kingdom of England and the dwarven realms at York, even though the series of previous treaties, agreements and alliances stretched back to the days of King Arthur. These were followed by agreements with the gnomes and halflings as the power of the centralising state waxed and expanded. Relations with the elves were different, as everything was with them, but many of their clans, villages and individuals had pledged homage to the Crown. It was a tad strange to have these feudal trappings in a modern state and many had progressively been assimilated to various degrees in mainstream human society, but it was in keeping with the longevity of of those in question.
The six dwarven realms amounted to a population of almost one and quarter million, or a little under half of the dwarfs in Britain, and offered up their usual mixture of military service, scutage in the form of monies and goods as payment of their annual tribute to the suzerain. Taking part of the latter in arms had been a tradition since the days of Henry VIII, although Barton wagered that it would have meant rather more dwarf-forged suits of armour and weapons than the current array of artillery and tank destroyers; perhaps some measure of technical adjustment might be in order. Their armies and the two separate unified dwarven units, as distinct from the various dwarven regiments of the British Army, certainly did not lack in quality and their areas of specialisation did fill a gap in the north.
The halflings and gnomes were far more straightforward propositions, lacking the same degree of separate self government beyond the purely localised level. Almost two thirds of the two million halflings in the country dwelled in their traditional Midlands shires, although there had been something of a return to their bucolic rural roots since the war as the older factories of the Victorian era have way to modern industries. The million gnomes were split evenly between the Welsh mountains and the major cities, where their expertise in banking, jewellery and trades served them well enough, as did their sterling service in the Department of Gnomeland Security. Their offerings quite naturally differed from the practical dwarves of the north, with the halflings providing their customary array of delectable foodstuffs for the Royal larders. The gnomes had been on a quite creative streak for several years, presenting a succession of what appeared to be large, automated fruit that were actually receptacles for bejewelled eggs in the fashion of Faberge; last year had been a mobile golden apple and this year was apparently a clockwork orange.
From the elves came no great gifts or offerings, but solemn avowals of service in the forests and the wilds across the land, and their “guard against the night”, whether that might be. Their numbers were characteristically low, befitting the long lived yet unfecund folk of the woods; he had never seen an elven child, come to think of it. There were assurances as ever that they would do their bit if the Crown truly needed them, but he would have preferred more definitive and tangible terms of contract, like those given to the MacLeods. Their value came not in numbers, but in the considerable skill and power of their ranks and the might of their sorcery; Wellington was said to have sworn by his elven archers in the Peninsular War and Slim’s single regiment had been the bane of the Japanese in the jungles.
He was surprised to see an increase in the giant population and pleased to read fulsome reports of ogrish achievements that justified the faith of the past decades. It was difficult, however, to conjure up such positive reactions to the petitions by the orcs and goblins for full equality of treatment; their base arguments carried weight, but the memories of thousands of years of blood enmity, not to mention the horrors wrought in the last war, were enough to give counter.
It would have to be done in stages; whilst repeal of the most egregious statutes of days past was viable, the bottom line remained that very, very few Britons, regardless of how high minded they were on the question of the races, really, really wanted a greenskin for a neighbour.
Stanley Barton thought of himself as many things. A decent Godfearing family man, for certain; a proud Englishman and loyal subject of the Queen, without a question; a Labour man and friend to the ordinary worker, of course; and captain of his team, not its lord and master. He knew the Army and Navy well and true, but never had he thought himself a master of this subject.
Magic.
The Prime Minister held many responsibilities, yet the command and oversight of the Ministry of Magic and the other supernatural forces of the realm was not one he particularly relished. Oh, he was far from the ranks of one of the Arkists, but wizardry was something beyond his area of comfort and true trust. Nevertheless, it was his duty. The position of Minister of Magic was one of a handful of ones in the Cabinet that were not held by Members of Parliament and even that particular custom was one that some wanted to change under the rallying cry of modernisation.
Neither the necessarily most powerful nor the most senior of the wizards of the realm, the role of the Minister had grown to become akin to the chancellorship of one of the great universities in its mixture of ceremony and administration; indeed, the position did carry with it the title of Archmage of Oxford. The man who sat opposite him now was in many ways the epitome of that modern tendency, yet his skills in organisation, delegation and coordinating the oft fragile egos of wizardkind were not doubted by any who had worked with him. Alcuin Spong had held the position of Minister of Magic for almost twelve years now, longer than any other since Professor Tolkien during the war, and had been responsible for considerable change.
The groundwork for the expansion of the magical personnel resources of the British Empire had been laid in the final years of the Second World War, as the massive expansion in the arcane capacity of the United States and the Soviet Union had threatened to leave Britain behind in the dust. The Arcane Education Act of 1944 had established the framework for universal magical aptitude testing at 6 and 11 and considerably expanded the educational machinery for training those with the potential spark to learn the Art, founding four new magical colleges, bringing Britain’s total to nine. Whilst this increased the raw numbers going through the exacting trials and learning that would grant them entry into magical apprenticeship, it could not shorten that complex and sometimes dangerous process. Spong had been the one to come up with the three pronged solution to the conundrum and it remained an elegant one to this day.
Firstly, specialised offers would be extended to the independent wizards of the realm to attempt to persuade them to register with the Ministry, which had encountered middling success. Secondly, the Great Reclassification of 1952 brought hundreds back into the fold who had previously failed one of their tests of mastery by offering them second opportunities or technical employment. Finally, there has been the British Empire Wizardly Scheme. Like many of the grand plans of Imperial cooperation, it had been slow to start, but, to Barton’s pleasure, Spong was the bearer of good tidings on this day.
“680 a year, Prime Minister, rising to 1000 within five years. A thousand apprentices per annum is considerably more than we currently turn out in Britain on a good year, and we’re on track to increase that as well as the college system begins to crank up to full speed.”
“What does that mean for us in bottom line terms?”
“We’ll nearly double the current number of apprentices within a year, from 2437 as of last Thursday. Where we currently have three hundred and fifty qualifying for their Tests every year, we’ll have at least six hundred by the end of the 1960s. Factoring in the gradual improvement in survival rates and a maintenance of current standards and there will be up to two hundred and fifty newly qualified adepts every year. That is on top of the hundred Commonwealth adepts from their own institutions that we get under the primary article of the BEWS.”
“And those British apprentices who live but do not pass...”
“Are funnelled back into either retraining or the technical services. We estimate that from the current pool of some four thousand Reclassifieds, we can get a good eight hundred qualified over the next five years.”
“Five hundred wizards a year. Factoring in your current Ministry roll of 2837 and the 1174 independents, that would put paid to the deficits in the service numbers and government requirements to boot. Good.”
“All well and good indeed, Prime Minister, but much, much more can be done than merely focussing our wizardly resources on the military and civil service. For example, our Technomantic Research Department has come up with a list of twelve new projects, as you can see here, ranging from improvements to quality of life to industrial production. We defend the land from its foes, both arcane and profane, but this is but the tip of the iceberg.”
Barton glanced through the vellum pages that Spong had handed to him; always with their little touches to emphasise their difference, the wizards were. It was all very slick and persuasive, which rather ironic in light of the eleventh suggestion, sorcerous augmentation of BBC broadcasts by enchantment specialists to influence opinions abroad. Britain had always been a more magical country than some, down to the very pattern of the ley lines cross-crossing the land itself and the various heritage of the elven days of yore, but this inherent nature had been harnessed to impressive effect since the Arcane Revolution. The great magical railways, imaginariums, lush farmlands and forests and the grand spell engines were the most obvious of these, but there were also the dozens of smaller, everyday inventions and spells that made life easier and richer. It wasn’t the worst expenditure of the government’s time, treasure and effort, really.
The first three proposals were solidly practical - a system of protective and safety dweomers over airports and railway stations to prevent any crashes; deep delving and mining magics to both extend and explore the nation’s mineral resources, but also expand to subterranean facilities; and automated regular town and street cleaning devices. Nothing truly groundbreaking, apart from the delving in a literal sense, but decent improvements in their own small ways. The fourth proposal, for the development, testing, creation and mass production of specialised potions to augment strength, growth, dental health and associated endurance that would then be distributed through the water supply, was again a tangible public good, provided all contingencies were thoroughly thought through prior to execution. Speed enhancement devices for machinery had quite a few applications of use, as did the development of large scale shrinking and enlarging artifacts; being able to carry up to six times the amount of cargo in an aircraft or ship would open up quite a few possibilities. That type of enchantment had only been used on foodstuffs to this point due to the requirement of temperature and their already small scale, but if it could be applied to other goods...interesting...
The second half of Spong’s list built further upon this tantalising potential in a similar fashion. A telepathic communications network over a wide area offered considerable advantages, as did interactive television. In the former case, it would cut down reaction times, allow to redirection of effort and provide for rather more secure lines of communication in some circumstances, provided that the lessons from the IPCRESS affair could be properly incorporated and the relevant networks geas-locked. The employment of “artificer intelligences” in newly advanced robotic automatons seemed dangerously close to Dr. Frankenstein’s benighted territory in some respects, but the safeguards seemed stringent enough and there were many advantages to robotic machines, as the American Professor Asimov had demonstrated when Barton had been over at the Pentagon. The tenth proposal seemed to be the product of a fervent lover of Venn diagrams addicted to pervitin, but amidst the sixteen intersecting ellipses superimposed over London, there were some interesting confluences of zones of influence, repulsion and suggestion that could be of utility for Scotland Yard and the City alike. Curious.
The last two items seemed banal on the surface - sunlight gathering and localised chronological distorters - but Barton’s heart skipped a beat when the consequences sunk in. Being able to convert and focus energy into controlled sorecerous beams could solve some serious issues that the Ministry of Space had been lamenting over and as for the other...
“How far could this distortion be extended?”
“A very limited area, Prime Minister, and at the cost of a lot of thaumaturgical power; not so much area either, given that we’re working in four dimensions. Something the size of yon cupboard is the current limit.”
“Good. Good. That one is definitely approved, straight off the bat. I’d like to see how your experiments work at altitude and in vacuums.”
“Very well.” Spong looked at Barton as if he was clearly quite, quite potty. “The simple matter is that we cannot pursue all of them, not with our present numbers, budget and power. We do have some other more abstract project currently underway at Darkmoor and Stonehenge that are rather more theoretical in nature, but just as vital to our future as an arcane superpower, chief of which is Project Iris. We know that both the Americans and Russians are working on finding or creating new colours of magic and we simply cannot afford to be left behind. We cannot!”
“I quite agree. That, the dimensional studies and the Grand Spell Engine can continue. I’ll have to consider my decision on the project list carefully. It is the calculus of war and peace, just as it always is. Every one of you that is working on something to make this world better is one that isn’t working on ways to better destroy it.”
“Such is the way of this world, Prime Minister. For that, we do have additional military options in place, as well as the ongoing programmes of production, testing and protection. The Royal Corps of War Mages takes the main role in the development of battle magic spells, but our Department of Metamagic works hand in hand with them on enchantments and items of projection. The Army is currently testing our latest artillery range extension enchantments and darksight devices, Farscry will be complete in two years and the new war machines are progressing well up at Darkmoor.
“I’ll come and see them when I’m next in Scotland. Those are largely a matter for the future, though. What can you give us today? I need something tangible to give to Cabinet, as much as the long term projects sound fine.”
“Have a glance at these, Prime Minister.” Spong handed over a brightly coloured conspectus; obviously, he has come prepared. “First and foremost, there is our production of magical weapons and armours. We have five different variants of the L1A1 with enchanted augmentation of range, accuracy, armour penetration, rate of fire and reduced weight - we’d obviously like to get something that combines all of them, but it is simply too costly and time consuming for mass production at this time. One whole circle is working on artillery and there we have been able to achieve 25% greater range and rate of fire for the new Light Gun and can hopefully carry that over to the heavier pieces. We’ve made considerable advances is powerswords and shock lances as well, but our largest success has been in armour. We’re reducing the weight and testing the integration of new features at the request of the War Office and we’ve been able to apply the defensive enchantments to very light fabrics suitable for under-armour use, providing what amounts to an extra layer.”
“Very good. The cost barrier remains the primary obstacle, though.”
“As ever; it will never be cheap to build thousands of any enchanted object, let alone hundreds of thousands. On the last page, you can see the most recent developments from the Department of Arcane Weaponry: New runes and spells of protection for capital ships and aircraft; the Superhaste engines for certain armoured vehicles, as your predecessor requested; and mobile shield generators for tanks and planes.”
“That last item sounds the most interesting. How?”
“We’ve managed to get a shield generation device small and enough to fit in an individual vehicle whilst still providing enough protection for up to six direct hits; previously, we couldn’t sustain more than one, but by by inverting the arcane flow through a prismatron encased in orichalchite, we’ve done it. Cost is still reasonably high, but it will fall as we produce more and get the Royal Manufactory onto the job.”
“That will do quite nicely and will get you what you need in the short term, Grand Master. Insofar that it is possible, we’re going to keep to the dual track approach of military preparation and civil wizardry - the world situation gives us no alternative.We need to increase our wizardly numbers in the Armed Forces and supporting services, so I’d like you to prepare some recommendations as to how that can be accomplished.”
“There are certain measures available to you, Prime Minister...”
“And I know them well. We shall try the full bunch of carrots first of all on both the WIL and the IWS, along with the true independents. We shall have to see.”
.....................................
After the meeting with Spong, Barton would have preferred something a bit more mundane before elevenses, but Sir Obo had arranged these appointments to be scheduled in rapid succession in order to free up time for the other requirements of the office. This at least was only a matter of reviewing the executive summary of a report - the Demihuman Report in this case, or “A Humble Report to the Crown on Her Majesty’s Non-Human Subjects, Vassals, Tenants, Tributaries and Dominions of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland under the Supremacy of the Crown Pursuant to the Statutum Eboracum of 1287”.
The Civil Service did so love to give things their full titles.
The particular circumstances of the demihumans of the British Isles extended back to the pact forged at York in the reign of Edward I that formally bound together the then Kingdom of England and the dwarven realms at York, even though the series of previous treaties, agreements and alliances stretched back to the days of King Arthur. These were followed by agreements with the gnomes and halflings as the power of the centralising state waxed and expanded. Relations with the elves were different, as everything was with them, but many of their clans, villages and individuals had pledged homage to the Crown. It was a tad strange to have these feudal trappings in a modern state and many had progressively been assimilated to various degrees in mainstream human society, but it was in keeping with the longevity of of those in question.
The six dwarven realms amounted to a population of almost one and quarter million, or a little under half of the dwarfs in Britain, and offered up their usual mixture of military service, scutage in the form of monies and goods as payment of their annual tribute to the suzerain. Taking part of the latter in arms had been a tradition since the days of Henry VIII, although Barton wagered that it would have meant rather more dwarf-forged suits of armour and weapons than the current array of artillery and tank destroyers; perhaps some measure of technical adjustment might be in order. Their armies and the two separate unified dwarven units, as distinct from the various dwarven regiments of the British Army, certainly did not lack in quality and their areas of specialisation did fill a gap in the north.
The halflings and gnomes were far more straightforward propositions, lacking the same degree of separate self government beyond the purely localised level. Almost two thirds of the two million halflings in the country dwelled in their traditional Midlands shires, although there had been something of a return to their bucolic rural roots since the war as the older factories of the Victorian era have way to modern industries. The million gnomes were split evenly between the Welsh mountains and the major cities, where their expertise in banking, jewellery and trades served them well enough, as did their sterling service in the Department of Gnomeland Security. Their offerings quite naturally differed from the practical dwarves of the north, with the halflings providing their customary array of delectable foodstuffs for the Royal larders. The gnomes had been on a quite creative streak for several years, presenting a succession of what appeared to be large, automated fruit that were actually receptacles for bejewelled eggs in the fashion of Faberge; last year had been a mobile golden apple and this year was apparently a clockwork orange.
From the elves came no great gifts or offerings, but solemn avowals of service in the forests and the wilds across the land, and their “guard against the night”, whether that might be. Their numbers were characteristically low, befitting the long lived yet unfecund folk of the woods; he had never seen an elven child, come to think of it. There were assurances as ever that they would do their bit if the Crown truly needed them, but he would have preferred more definitive and tangible terms of contract, like those given to the MacLeods. Their value came not in numbers, but in the considerable skill and power of their ranks and the might of their sorcery; Wellington was said to have sworn by his elven archers in the Peninsular War and Slim’s single regiment had been the bane of the Japanese in the jungles.
He was surprised to see an increase in the giant population and pleased to read fulsome reports of ogrish achievements that justified the faith of the past decades. It was difficult, however, to conjure up such positive reactions to the petitions by the orcs and goblins for full equality of treatment; their base arguments carried weight, but the memories of thousands of years of blood enmity, not to mention the horrors wrought in the last war, were enough to give counter.
It would have to be done in stages; whilst repeal of the most egregious statutes of days past was viable, the bottom line remained that very, very few Britons, regardless of how high minded they were on the question of the races, really, really wanted a greenskin for a neighbour.
Sounds like there's a prospect for stalling a march on the US in exports to the region.
