The Kept Promise

Phone cameras caught his island as it descended from above, into one of our lakes.
Journalists' cameras were ready and waiting as he sailed to shore through the mist, clad all in white.
Cameras were there, too, when he vaulted over the palace gates and knelt before our Queen, guilded scabbard at his side.

His handsome face radiated sincerity and dedication as he spoke of the Enemy trapped by a weakening seal inside a volcano across the sea, and of his oath to protect us.  The media had barely begun to stir in reaction when reports came in of the eruption, and then of the Enemy who swept across the world, enslaving the great nations of yesteryear.

Only through his divine protection has our country survived the onslaught.  He has fought for us at every turn, spilling blood for us when the Enemy attacks, and in moments of respite walked through our hospitals, spilling blood on the sick and wounded who stand whole from their beds and rejoice as he passes.  To all our country, he is our saviour.

Still, there are those of us who doubt.  We think on prior probabilities, and remember the accidents that befell so many neuroscience labs in those first few days after he returned, and of backed-up data lost in server farm fires and corrupted hard drives.

But, we hold our tongues.

After all, we would be wiped out if the ICBMs fell again without his protection.
After all, his popularity with the public grows day by day.
After all, who in England could dare to oppose the once and future king?