King Richard IV looked particularly troubled this morning as he stood on the bow of his flagship, HMS [i]Warrior[/i] just as the sails unfurled and the vessel set off from Bermuda.

The king had been haunted as he slept the night before. In his dream, he was back in England, a place he was king of yet never set foot upon, but which he knew well enough of from reading. He emerged triumphantly from a pre-war Westminster Abbey in full regalia, with scepter in one hand and earth in the other. But all the people gathered just stood there, blinking, as if he was some weird street performer harassing them. They all made their excuses and shuffled off.

Now, looking over the bow, he slammed his hand on the railing. "If I can't even be sure myself of my kingship, how can I hope that others will follow me?"

He would not have to wait very long for an answer to his question. In the opinion of his esteemed advisor, the Governor General of the West Indies, it was time to make one more step towards reestablisshing the United Kingdom and the British Empire, and arguably the most important step since settling in the West Indies.

There were two debated routes back home that had been quarreled over essentially since King Alfred set his feet in the British West Indies. The quickest way, to be sure, was the Bermuda-Azores-Britain route. However, the Azores posed a severe challenge. In the estimation of the Dominion, the Azores were likely the best place to live on earth. They were far enough from the mainland to be impossible for all but actual navies to reach. They were too small to merit a nuclear strike. They subsisted primarily on fishing. The Westerlies would have had to carry fallout all the way from the US Atlantic seaboard. Their population did not speak English and was relatively numerous.

Which is why the King and Parliament decided upon another route. From Bermuda, a contingent would sail north to Anticosti Isle, near the mouth of the St. Lawrence. No location could be more strategic. 

From there, British warships could protect commerce down the most important sea lane in post-apocalyptic America, the St. Lawrence River.

After the construction of a sufficent sized base, the British could sail from Anticosti to Ireland on the westerlies on a voyage 1700 kilometers shorter.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The island was, as the King was happy to discover, largely uninhabited. 

The Royal Marines quickly got around to making the few peat burning fisherman swear oaths of allegiance to His Majesty Richard IV. Control was established quickly, but still the king, standing upon a promontory flanked by his guards overlooking his "new domain" was uncertain about the future of the monarchy. Previous monarchs had been negligent, in his view. They spent too much time consolidating the Caribbean, and now a triumphant return to London was a pipe dream. 

But it further wrought worry to the pensive royal that everyone still seemed to pretend that ONE DAY, they would have the needed men and material to sail with colors flying back to England and begin to rebuild with the inhabitants just like that.

The king leaned his head over the side of the ship. [I]I'm on a sailing ship with broadside cannons. This is the second finest ship in the Royal Navy.[/I], thought the king. [I]Why would[/I] anyone [I]think I, a 36 year old mortal man have the answers?[/I]

"Your majesty," The emergence of the Lord High Admiral, Lord James Cottington, startled the king. "With your leave, we must return [i]Warrior[/I] to Bermuda as quickly as possible." 

Richard nodded his approval, but continued staring off into space. The Admiral made a move to leave, but a word from Richard arrested him.

"James?"

The elderly aristocrat looked up the king with curiousness. "Your will, sire?"

"James," the King leapt off the rock and landed in front of Lord Cottington, his Royal Navy uniform a little dirtier for the impact. He hesitated, and then faced away. "Never mind...you have my leave." 

The king ascended the rock once more blinked back genuine tears in the cold, Canadian wind as his thoughts returned to England and his "Kingdom". Not tears of petulance, that the people wouldn't accept his rule and how "unfair" that was. He was royal, but not that arrogant. but a genuine sorrow for what would have to take place. He was the lawful king of England, and he believed in his heart that if it was united under one banner, it could rebuild, but he would have to wage war on his people to see his rule restored. 

Would it be worth it?