Baroness Von Vanite representing the British Empire

In the halls of Parliament and on the streets of London, you would hear many different things about the matriarch of the Vanite estate. What made Lady Vanite unique was that she had a way of polarising opinions of herself for each and every type of person.

If you were part of the aristocratic elite, then you thought that Lady Vanite was either a genius aristocrat who was the epitome of British class, others saw her as a class traitor who sullied herself with the lesser classes. To those of the middle or lower classes, you either thought she was a woman of the people, or you thought she was a two-faced, hypocritical bitch. To those who were colonised by the British, you saw her either as an ally or as a reformer of a corrupt system or as a part of the tyranny that kept them oppressed offering platitudes to keep them trapped.

Even her staff couldn’t agree. They appreciated their generous paychecks, the compliments, politeness and even kindness she often showed them and the occasional generous gifts that she gave spontaneously. But just as spontaneously was often quick to make a disrespectful comment, a degrading remark or a particularly demanding command.

The Baroness herself found the discussions quite tiresome, though remaining an unknowable did have its advantages. Nevertheless, she often grew impatient explaining and re-explaining her positions to those who would be her allies. It was a difficult balancing act in life that she had chosen to adopt. But she was a Vanite, and not just any Vanite but the matriarch of the Vanite family and Vanites did not give up when her cause was difficult.

All the same, it did make her appreciate these moments where she could relax with a good meal and the delicious aroma of Earl Grey tea.

“Will afternoon tea be long, Kiona?” She asked her maid whilst placing her cup on the table, careful not to damage the mahogany surface. “I must confess that I am famished.”

“I will ask the cooks, my Lady.” Her maid, Kiona, said with a curtsy and turned to march to the kitchens.

"No, no. I will let them come when they are ready. I would prefer you stay here and keep me company, Kiona darling. I find myself craving conversation today. Did I ever tell you the story behind those swords?” Lady Vanite pointed an elegant finger to a pair of rapiers crossed across the marble mountain place. Gleaming like silver against the black marble, each hilt encrusted with three gems. A ruby, a sapphire and a pearl, the three colours of the British flag.

“These are swords of a general, my lady. Are they from your days in the military?” She asked out of politeness. Kiona had adapted to the manners of the nobility most of all of Lady Vanite’s servants. She was from the American colonies, and she’d found work as a maid. Despite her upbringing, she was quite refined and wouldn’t have been out of place in a British court if it weren’t for the colour of her skin.

It wasn’t just her manners that earned her appeal to Lady Vanite’s ears, though. From their conversations over the years, Lady Vanite had noticed bits and pieces about her private family life. Her mother was sick, and her father was dead at a young age, so she had taken it upon herself to take charge of her family from a young age. A woman who took such responsibility onto her own shoulders was a woman that Lady Vanite deeply respected.

“They are indeed, albeit only one of them was mine. I acquired a position when I first came of age from my father’s connections; I knew I was a natural leader, and I was determined to do my duty for the crown.” Lady Vanite said proudly. “It was simply the fastest way to prove myself. I scored three major victories against the Fifth Yankee Rebellion in Virginia."

Kiona's eyes widened as she spoke, looking at the blades as if Lady Vanite was about to cut her down. "I see I have caught your attention. Might I suspect that you are interested in that campaign?"

"My lady, might I ask a question?" Kiona asked, her lips trembling with the slightest betrayal of nerves.

"You do not need to be shy, my dear. Ask away.” Lady Vanite encouraged, taking a sip of her drink.

“Were you ever involved in any of the campaigns with the Faroke Tribes?” She asked, gripping her apron.

Lady Vanite saw that she was gripping her skirt tightly. “Yes, I was. It was not a happy affair, but the Faroke did need to be uplifted and brought into the civilised world. It was for their own good, but unfortunately my colleagues didn’t always agree.”

Lady Vanite glanced back at the sword; memories returned to her in floods. “We are meant to bring enlightenment and unity throughout the world and spread the ideals of civilisation.” Lady Vanite’s expression became more bitter. “I simply cannot understand why so many nobles seem to think they can act like savages and make the world a better place. My fellow general Elizabeth was one such savage, even if she had noble blood.”

Lady Vanite shook her head. “Monstrous really, quite monstrous what she did. But I brought her to justice, even if it was when I retired to become a politician rather than a general. Acquired her sword as my trophy as well.” Lady Vanite gave the slightest nod to the sword with a smug smile.

“But did you hurt any of the Faroke, my Lady?” Kiona asked, avoiding looking at her. Then suddenly she threw her head down in a bow. “Forgive me, my lady, I speak out of turn.”

“Calm yourself, my dear, it’s quite alright. But no, I did not, apart from warriors, of course. I could hardly claim to call myself civilised if I were to act like a barbarian, would I?”

“No, no, I suppose not,” Kiona said with relief. “Oh, I think I smell your tea being ready.”

“Excellent,” Lady Vanite said, clapping her hands excitedly. “I think I smell the fish and chips from here. I must say Mark does know how to prepare an excellent fry-up. Would you kindly pass my compliments to the chef.”

“I’ll let him know immediately, my lady,” Kiona said with a bow, before walking off. Lady Vanite, for her part, relocated to her dining chamber, a vast room that was admittedly oversized for one person but existed to always ensure that those who visited were convinced of the grandeur of the Lady Vanite estate. Hence why she spared no expense on the finest silk tablecloths or on ensuring they had been washed thoroughly with the finest lavender softeners.

Alas, her keen eye for perfection was always on the hunt for imperfections because Lady Vanite was all too aware that her political enemies would be keen to remind her of such things. Speaking of which. "Kiona, please take note that there seems to have been a spot missed."

Lady Vanite pointed a manicured finger at a coffee drop the size of a pin. "Please ensure that this spot is cleaned as soon as possible. It’s a minor detail, but a British woman must always maintain nothing but absolute perfection.”

“Forgive me, my lady,” Kiona said, bowing her head again. "I will-"

Lady Vanite raised a single palm. "Worry not for now, but I shall expect it cleaned soon. But for now, excuse me." Lady Vanite tucked her napkin under her collar as she smelt the intoxicating smell of her food. Delicious, salty, fatty, deep-fried fish and chips, the most gourmet of the gourmet food in the British Empire. "I believe it's time for tea."

Elegantly, she wiped away an impolite trail of drool that had escaped her mouth under the guise of adjusting her napkin as her fish-and-chips tea was placed before her. A full plate of steaming beer-battered fish and fried chips, along with a bowl of ketchup with salt and vinegar, was also provided. As a drink, Lady Vanite had been treated to a fizzy drink called Kizza, her secret indulgence that was more commonly associated with the lower classes, but a drink she had grown to love when she was doing a charity drive.

"How's your mother, Kiona darling?" Lady Vanite asked whilst cutting up the battered fish. "I do hope she's been recovering well."

"I'm afraid she's been struggling; her most recent treatment has failed... and the cancer's growing," Kiona admitted, swallowing painfully. Lady Vanite felt her own heart ache at the news. "We might not be able to afford rent soon; my mother’s savings are running low.”

“Terrible, terrible. Well, it won’t happen, not on my watch.” Lady Vanite said, placing her knife and fork on the table. “Consider yourself due a significant pay rise soon. A ten thousand pound bonus as well.

Kiona gasped, a hand raised to her mouth. “My lady, I couldn’t possibly. It’s too much, I-“

Lady Vanite waved her hand dismissively. “Think nothing of it. Dear, in the billions of a Vanite’s net worth, it’s a drop in the bucket. And tell me honestly, how can one’s self call herself nobility if they do not act noble?”

“I…I wouldn’t know, my lady.” She was trying to maintain her composure, but tears of relief were forming in her eyes. Smiling, Lady Vanite returned to her meal.

"Mmmm... Jenkins has truly outdone himself this time. Have you ever had fish and chips, Kiona? Most delectable cuisine."Lady Vanite purred as she savoured every flake of the fried battered fish.

"I wouldn't know, I've never had it," Kiona admitted quietly.

"Oh, of course not; it's not really a commoner's food, is it?" She took another bite. "To think that, had cod never become so endangered, I might never have tasted it. I suppose one might consider this a silver lining."

"It does smell delicious, my lady. I am truly envious." Kiona admitted quietly, and Lady Vanite smiled.

"Tell Jenkins to fry you up another batch; you deserve it. Ah, ah-" She held up a hand at Kiona's attempted protest. "My treat, and my expense."

"Thank you, my lady," Kiona said, bowing her head again. "You are much too kind."

"Think nothing of it." At that moment the doorbell rang, and Kiona left to answer. By the time she had returned, Lady Vanite was wiping her mouth with a napkin, having secretly used the opportunity to uncouthly lick the plate of any remaining flake of deep-fried ambrosia.

“My lady, Lord Campbell has sent you a letter. His representative said it was important,” Kiona said as Lady Vanite cleaned her mouth with a napkin. She had a letter in her hands. Unmistakably, the wax seal of the Campbell house was stamped on it.

Lady Vanite's face became more serious as she opened the envelope from her most reliable ally in the cabinet. Her face darkened as she read it. "Cowards."

The envelope fell from her hands, and she glided over to the window, looking outwards into the city of London. Gloom spread across her features. The city looked so advanced, so modern, the pinnacle of civilisation in the modern world and the largest city in the world. She loved it, the cradle of true civilisation from which humanity were uplifted into a culture of trade, commerce, rights and liberty.

But now she could only see a fragile state walking into the arms of a devil.

“My lady, what’s the matter?” Kiona asked, raising a hand in concern. Lady Vanite had never betrayed her emotions so openly before; this must be disconcerting for her.

“I feel that Britain has just made a major mistake, Kiona,” Lady Vanite admitted, swallowing a heavy lump in her throat. “One I fear we will never be able to correct.”

“My lady, I’m afraid I don’t understand.”

Lady Vanite let out a shaky sigh. “You are aware of climate change, Kiona?”

“I’ve heard of it,” Kiona admitted, making Lady Vanite raise an eyebrow in surprise as she suspected that uneducated lower classes like Kiona wouldn’t be aware of climate change.

“Yes. It’s much worse than people believe, though. The crown has been covering it up, but the situation is much darker than expected.” Lady Vanite admitted, staring up at the skies as if she could physically see the carbon clogging the air. “The crown’s been getting desperate, and yet the nobility refuse to adapt or change.”

She raised a fist and pressed it against the window. She remembered when the streets of London had been caked in snow when she was young. Now she could never remember having a white winter, and in the summer the homes that had, over centuries, been designed to survive bitterly cold winters now acted as ovens that boiled them alive. "The world is collapsing, and soon it'll burn."

Lady Vanite's teeth clenched. "It's their own fault. If they had ever once reformed, ever once instituted the regulations I constantly suggested. But no. They'd rather gamble all of our fates on this 'contest of nations' rather than reform."

"Contest of Nations, my lady?" Kiona asked, and immediately Lady Vanite realised she had misspoken and revealed classified information. Then again, it wouldn't be classified for much longer, so there was no harm in letting her know now.

"The crown received a letter; we are not sure who it was from. But we can verify its integrity all the same. It's offering our nation any wish we want as long as we send a single woman to represent us in a contest of nations.” Lady Vanite’s fist had shifted to an elbow, and she stared at a window. “As long as we participate, then they’ll clear up all the pollution in a snap of their fingers.”

“And you don’t think it’s sincere.”

“I’m certain it’s sincere; I can’t tell you why. But anyone who’s looked at the letter can confirm it’s sincere.” Lady Vanite admitted reluctantly. “But I’m reading between the lines here.”

“And what have you found, exactly?”

“That we don’t know the nature of this contest, or the nature of those holding it. It could be a trap, or some kind of trick. A monkey’s paw situation.” Lady Vanite breathed out through clenched teeth.

“But if it clears up all the pollution in the world, reverses all the devastation the Emp-that people have done to the Earth, wouldn’t it be worth it?” Kiona asked; she was unable to keep the plea out of her voice.

Lady Vanite clicked her tongue in distaste at her servant’s slip of the tongue. “The Empire has brought civilisation, liberty, rights and law to the rest of the world, Kiona. Do not be impertinent and forget that.” Lady Vanite sighed. “But in truth, my dear, what concerns me is not just the nature of the contest, but that I realised that the invitation never once said directly that we got to choose our champion.”

Lady Vanite’s teeth started to grind. “We shouldn’t be taking an unknown like this, not when we have no idea who we’re dealing with. Or who will be representing us. It could be a patriot, but it could be a fool, or an enemy of the crown. It could even be—“

And in that next moment Lady Vanite was gone.

Alex Mason

He had noticed a pattern, one that made him nervous. Four contestants had arrived in Hera’s game, and this was the fourth beautiful woman she had brought to the contest. Silky raven hair draped down her back in an elegant style; her clothes were expertly decorated and looked like they had cost more than his life. She looked around the room like she was surveying a battlefield, sharp eyes absorbing every detail.

"Where am I?" She demanded, a hand going to a blade in her belt. For a second, Alex thought she might also be from Ashara and Orbita's worlds, but he quickly dismissed the thought. He saw that she had a sleek smartwatch on her wrist, and she seemed to recognise the cameras and spotlights around her. "Oh, I see. I must have been chosen. I demand you tell me where you've taken me."

Hera, however, had a phone pressed to her ear and did not seem to be that interested in Lady Vanite at all. Raising a single finger at Lady Vanite as she spoke into her phone, her teeth gritted as she spoke on the phone. "It was a joke, it was a joke! Can nobody take a joke any more?... Wait, they're threatening to boycott the show? Well, who cares?... Wait, they make up how much of our audience?... UGH! Fine, I'll apologise."

"Where am I? I do not care for-" Hera placed a finger to Lady Vanite's mouth as she strode past her, and as if the vocal cords had been paralysed, Lady Vanite produced no further sound. Her eyebrows knitted together as she grabbed her microphone and glanced to the camera with the flattest, most toneless expression Alex had ever seen.

"We at the staff of the Harem Hotel would like to apologise deeply to any Tolkien fans who were offended by the comment that we made previously. We are now aware that the so-called 'Eagle plot hole' has been addressed in the books, and it has become deeply annoying for Tolkien fans to keep explaining it to non-fans. We at Harem Hotel vow to provide stricter standards for our jokes to avoid passing around greater misinformation and to avoid having to deal with snowflakes."

It was the most forced, insincere apology Alex had ever seen; never once had Hera's expression changed from being utterly flat, and not a single syllable even implied sincerity. Shaking her head after her apology, Hera's bright smile returned.

"Right, where was I?" Hera asked, snapping her fingers impatiently. "Right, of course, Vanite."

She swung around and brought her microphone back to her lips. "Straight from an alternate 2020s London where the good old days of imperialism, conquest, exploration and good old-fashioned genocide never ended, representing the British Empire of the 21st century, give it up for Jenny Vanite!”

“I beg your pardon.” Lady Vanite hissed, placing two hands on her hips and staring daggers at Hera. “A commoner like you should know your station.” She placed a hand to her chest. “I am Baroness Jennifer von Vanite the fourth, and I don’t expect you to forget it.”

“Call yourself whatever you like, but you’ll never be anything compared to the GREAT, the FABULOUS AND THE UNBELIEVABLY SEXY HERA! Now go wait in your seat until I can be bothered to talk to you again.” Hera made a shooing motion with her perfectly manicured fingers.

Lady Vanite raised a finger to complain, but when her mouth opened, no sound came out. Her eyes widened as her hands wrapped around her throat, as if searching for an invisible hand choking her, but finding nothing. Then her legs moved on their own. Stiff, awkward and forced, she found herself marched over to a chair and placed down. As she sat down, her eyes noticed Alex Mason’s superior throne and sniffed haughtily.

Alex felt his spine slouching in embarrassment.

“Hmpf, somebody's looking forward to an elimination," Hera grumbled, her own hands on her hips. Then she brightened up for the camera. "Fancy, aloof, aristocratic. But can she learn to treat our Master with the respect he deserves? Let's see. Now, first of all, we need to give you all the rundown of Vanite's own homeland."

She gestured to the screen, which this time had transformed into a simple Union Jack. "This time we're leaving the exploration of other worlds and seeing what might have gone differently. It's your traditional alternate history wank, soon in more ways than one. Starting when the Americans revolted, which in this timeline was crushed. Then basically the timeline went completely right for all the European powers. No socialism, no communism, no annoying America or USSR to spoil their fun. No world wars or massive budgets; soon the whole world was split between them. Real 1984-style borders."

The screen changed to a map of the world in this new timeline; massive borders that were coloured either red for Britain, blue for France, grey for Germany dominated the rest of the world. Only a handful of other colours existed, all for European countries like Spain, Portugal, or Russia. Britain dominated most of it, including the whole North American continent, and the bulk of Africa.

“Alas, turns out extracting all those resources from the whole world with no regard for the local people or environment had consequences and now the Royal Crown has accepted our challenge to escape from that nasty horror known as the consequences of their own actions!” Hera declared, giving Lady Vanite a nasty, challenging smirk. Lady Vanite’s mouth opened to retort, but alas, she still found her voice gone.

“But let’s not leave it with just one alternate history, nor just one country on Earth. From an alternate nineteen fifty-nine where the good-old United States decided that the land of the free shouldn't be free to worship who they want. Here to see if a woman can put their Master before her faith. Give it up for MARY ADAMS!"