Blue lights flashed all around her. The cavalcade was travelling fast, their journey unobstructed. Hannah was in a dark, stretched vehicle, two cars behind the one Briggs was travelling in. All around her, police on motorbikes helped hurry them along. Briggs had insisted they travel separately for security reasons and for that she was thankful.

"Five minutes away now, Miss."

Hannah nodded to the agent sat to her right. On his lap, rested a small device showing the journey that they were currently taking. Several red warning triangles flashed along the route and yet by the time they neared each one, the signs disappeared from the screen.

"What are those red triangles?"

The agent pressed on the nearest one to them. A small message popped up but from where she was seated she couldn't make out the words.

"Nothing to worry about, Miss."

The engine of the car suddenly roared and the car lurched forward pushing Hannah further into the seatback. Several loud thuds came from the side and rear window and the agent reached over and pushed Hannah off the seat and down into the foot well.

"Keep your head down, Miss."

The car swerved a couple of times and Hannah was awkwardly thrown about.

"What happened?" She called out, as the agent shouted furiously into a mouthpiece, clipped to his lapel, completely ignoring her, his hand still trying to keep her head down. In the distance she thought she could hear gunfire.

A few seconds later the car engine slowed to a more leisurely pace. "Apologies, Miss. Just a few distractions along our route. Everything is fine now."

Hannah pushed herself up and back into the seat. Through the tinted grey glass she saw the remains of several eggs sliding down the outside of the window. She turned and looked out of the back window, but the glare from the vehicles headlamps behind prevented her from seeing anything.

A few minutes later the car slowed and turned left. The car passed through a giant set of gates, through a security check point and then down a long drive, lined with tall trees, their silvery branches like skeletal arms clawing at the night sky.

The car slowed further as they approached the house, a huge brick building lit up on all sides- The Red House. Hannah had seen pictures of the General's home before in a book at school- one of the oldest buildings in the country, dating back to the early eighteenth century. While the palaces and stately homes of the ruling elite from days gone by had been lost to civil war, looting and decay, this one house had stood resolute, waiting for the powers in the land to be regained and the ruling order to reclaim their titles and their positions. From here, within the rust-red, bricked walls, the society they lived in now had been designed and constructed. Or as Briggs described it earlier, her new home.

The car door opened. The agent got out first and Hannah reluctantly followed. Stepping out onto fine gravel, her eyes struggled to adjust to the brightness of the spotlights after the shaded interior of the car.

"This way, Miss."

Hannah followed the agent as he moved quickly up a flight of stone steps. As they approached the front entrance, Hannah glanced around her. The car Briggs had been travelling had already pulled away. Several guards restrained fearsome looking dogs on tight leads, while patrolling the perimeter.

"Inside, Miss." Another agent said, pushing her gently in the small of her back. She took one last glance and went inside.

"This is the business end of the house, Miss. This is where state visits are held. Hannah stood, staring open-mouthed at the opulence before her. Beneath her feet was a blood red carpet that spanned the entire entrance hall, not a join or seam visible. The carpet was so thick, she almost felt she was bouncing off the rich pile with every footstep. Before her, a wide staircase rose up and off to both sides of the house. For a fleeting moment, Hannah imagined herself flying down the fine curve of the dark wooden hand rail on her belly. Every other surface was littered with marble or oak or gilded marble and oak. In the centre of the cavernous entrance hall, hung a chandelier, a huge waterfall of cut-crystal beads, strung together on barely discernable wires, throwing off rays of lights across every surface. At the top of the first flight of stairs was a mural of General Briggs in full uniform, his lapels weighed down by medals and stripes, brandishing a fine silver sword and staring off into the distance. It was beyond imposing.

"This way, Miss."

Relieved not to have to get any closer to the mural, Hannah was taken through a side door and into what the agent described as the personal residence of the general, an extension built some one hundred years after the main part of the house. They approached a smaller entrance hall which had two guards positioned on either side. As Hannah passed by, the men stood as still as statues, their eyes fixed ahead of them.

The agent knocked on the door and they waited in an oppressive silence; the momentary excitement of seeing inside the great house had evaporated.

The door opened and a woman, a little older than her mother ushered her in.

"This way," she said and hurried off down a long hall.

"Goodbye, Miss," the agent said and left her alone in the doorway.

"Hurry up, General Briggs is waiting," called the woman and Hannah felt her legs move before she'd even thought about it. She walked quickly to catch up.

"He's in here," she said, pointing to yet another door. Hannah placed her hand on the brass door knob, the metal cold beneath her fingers and turned. With a deep breath she entered.

The smell hit her first; a combination of leather, furniture polish and wood smoke. Unlike the rest of the house that she had just seen, this room had a modern colour pallet of pale greys and cream with simple, functional furniture. It was understated and not at all what she had been expecting. As she turned a corner into the main part of the room, Briggs sat in a wing back chair next to a roaring fire, reading a newspaper. He'd changed out of his uniform and was wearing a pair of casual brown trousers and a pale yellow shirt. Hearing her enter, he looked up and smiled.

"Welcome, Hannah. Come, take a seat."

Hannah did as instructed and sat down opposite Briggs. The chair was big and the seat set quite high of the ground. Her feet didn't touch the floor. Was everything around him designed to make people feel small and insignificant, she wondered.

"I trust the journey wasn't too eventful for you?"

The eggs. The gunshot. The pretence.

"No, Sir."

"Good. Are you hungry, Maud fixes a good sandwich?"

"No thank you, Sir, I ate already."

"Maud, a sandwich for Hannah. Some Cocoa too."

The woman bowed her head and left the room.

Briggs neatly rolled up his paper and threw it onto the fire.

"So what do you think of the place then?"

"Imposing, Sir," Hannah replied, not able to take her eyes of the paper as it sparked, crackled and succumbed to the flames.

"Indeed. I'll give you a tour of the place later on. Maud has set up the guest room for you tonight and Mrs Page has kindly sent along some of your things to make your stay here more comfortable."

"Thank you. How long do you envisage me staying her, Sir?"

"Let us not bother with details just yet, especially since you've been through a lot these past few days. Quite the ordeal in fact."

Hannah nodded.

"I have put every resource under my command into finding those responsible and let me reassure you, they will be dealt with most severely."

Hannah winced.

"Ah, Maud, thank you."

The housekeeper entered the room, carrying a tray, laden with sandwiches, some fruit and a silver pot with two cups. "Will that be all, Sir?"

Briggs waved the housekeeper away.

"Very good, Sir." The woman smiled politely at Briggs, glared at Hannah and then left the room.

"You'll get used to her."

For the next ten minutes, Hannah picked at a sandwich that he'd foisted onto her plate, while Briggs told her how Maud Sommers had come to work for him straight from school and how her family before her, had served his family for over sixty years.

"She can be a little stern sometimes, but she is loyal and you can't put a price on that," he finished. "Come, let me take you a tour of the house, seeing as you seem to be finished eating."

Briggs guided them both back to grand entrance hall and stood at the foot of the stairs, looking up at the portrait above.

"That was painted for me last year. It took over fifty sittings to complete before I was satisfied with it. I asked the artist to try to capture the richness of my character. I wanted it to show power, yet benevolence. Intellect, yet a common touch. Would you agree they captured my essence perfectly?"

Hannah stared deeply at the picture. The likeness was uncanny, almost as if it were a photograph, but to her there was nothing benevolent or common about the picture. Something about the way in which his eyes had been painted, showed a dark, malevolence. To Hannah, it seemed as if the painter had seen deep inside Briggs soul and covered the canvas with poisoned paint.

"I think the artist, captured you perfectly, Sir."

Briggs smiled. "Follow me."

Two guards opened a huge set of double doors and Hannah was led into what Briggs called the State Reception Room. "This is the true seat of my governance, Hannah. This is where I host leaders of other countries, where laws are decided upon and ratified and the place where are great nation was born again."

Hannah turned around on the spot. The ornamental room was huge, spanning the width of the building, with rich curtains draped against the tall windows. Portraits like the one of Briggs, hung on every wall illuminated by ten massive chandeliers hanging above their heads. Unusually, dotted around the room, where a selection of pieces of old wooden furniture. Hannah approached one of them, a wooden table and reached out to touch it, confused as to why something so shabby would take pride of place in such a place.

"That is a twentieth century writing desk, once used by a succession of Prime Ministers. It was rescued before the great fires destroyed the old capital city. There are many objects just like that in this room, from all over the world. Artefacts of an era that brought nothing but unrest, decline and disaster."

Hannah's hand hovered over the surface, nervous to touch the ageing wood. She knew little of her country's more recent past. The limited teaching of history in her school started at the dinosaurs, up and on through the Middle Ages and up to around 1800. At which point the next few hundred years were barely mentioned. History then seemed to reboot itself about a hundred years ago.

"Why have these artefacts been kept?"

"They are kept here as a powerful reminder of poor governance, Hannah. A reminder of what was once, how it fell and how we rose again. If I am ever at odds with a decision, I come in here. It helps focus the mind. People make silly decisions if they don't understand the consequences fully."

Hannah smiled sadly in agreement. She knew that all too well.

"One day, my portrait will hang in here, amongst the other great leaders who came before me and a new portrait will hang above the stairs- the next leader of our great country. The next person who will drive us forward, ensuring the mistakes of the past are never made again and it is my job to prepare that person; to teach them how to govern."

Hannah caressed the wooden surface of the desk, waiting, trying to feel some connection to a lost past. The wood felt warm beneath her palm. Ignoring the damage and the stains, it really was a beautiful piece of furniture. Her head filled with images of people sat signing important documents, chairing important meetings. Had they really been as bad as today's historians and politicians made them out to be?

"Hannah, we'll head back to my quarters now, it's getting late and I have some things to discuss with you, in a more ... comfortable environment."

Maud met them at the door.

"Sir, Miss Page's belongings have arrived and I have placed them in her room. It'll take a while to unpack them. As it is late, is it alright if I turn in now and make a start on it tomorrow morning. I've taken the liberty of placing a few overnight things in the guest room."

Hannah's head turned from housekeeper to Briggs and back again. She hardly dared comprehend what she had just heard.

"Yes, that's fine. We shall up and out early tomorrow morning."

Hannah waited for the housekeeper to leave the room.

"General Briggs, did I just hear correctly? Have all of my belongings arrived here? Am I not going home?"

"Please take a seat."

Hannah wanted to do nothing of the sort. She wanted to stand, in fact she wanted to run. She'd never once wanted to live with the Page family, but she would give almost anything to be there right now.

"Sit, Hannah."

Hannah reluctantly walked across to the oversized chairs. She sat on the very edge, her toes just touching the floor.

Briggs sat down too and looked at her thoughtfully.

"Sending you to live with your birth mother and family was a mistake, I see that now. It was naïve of me to think that every one of you returned, would settle happily into your new lives."

Hannah's whole body tensed.

"I have come to a decision which is right for both you, the Page family and this country. Firstly, Hannah, while your birth mother seems to have accepted you wholeheartedly, the other members of the Page family have been less than happy. In fact, John Page has written personally to me to ask that you be relocated. He claims that the pressure your presence is exerting on his family is intolerable. I am inclined to agree with him. The Page family home, is not the place someone of your position should be residing."

"But..."

"You have also been clearly unhappy with your recent living arrangements. We can't afford for you to just run off when you feel like it, or come and go as you please. Hannah, you hold a unique position and nefarious forces wish to me harm and they will try and do you it through you. I have taken the decision that you will now reside with me. This is the only way to ensure your security."

Hannah couldn't find her voice with which to argue back. He had made up his mind.

"I also have something else I need to discuss with you, which may help you in understanding the decision I have made. This will come as a bit of a shock, so please prepare yourself. When you were first identified, I had my Chief Medical Officer test your DNA to check that you were indeed the child of Diana and John Page."

Hannah held her breath, knowing exactly what was about to come.

"After further checks it was discovered that while your birth mother is indeed Diana Page, John Page is not your biological father. In fact, I am."

Hannah didn't need to act. Hearing him say those words in person, rocked her to the core, again. Given up by one father all those years ago, in the space of the last few months, she had now had three people claiming to hold that title. Her world seemed to spin uncontrollably on its axis and all she wanted to do was laugh hysterically.

Briggs continued oblivious to the inner turmoil his daughter was experiencing.

"As you have the highest SPR score of all the returned Flawed it has been agreed, upon the statutes of this land that you are my heir apparent. It will be your portrait that will hang in the grand entrance hall, when mine is gone. From now until the day of my death, you will watch, you will learn and eventually you will govern. Just as I have done."

As her mouth, opened and shut like a fish beached on land, surrounded by oxygen and yet unable to breath, one word went over and over in her mind.

Tomorrow