Minister.
It was one of a handful of titles James wore now, the first he felt he had truly earned.
Throughout his life, titles, positions, roles, connections - they had all been handed to James simply by prestige of his name and blood. A calculated flash of brown eyes, a sly grin that held no warmth, or a simple reminder of who they were talking to, and people easily bent the knee. They delivered to him on a silver platter what he demanded, in exchange for the illusion of his loyalty or alliance.
It was a dance James had come to memorize, choreographed by his father and all the men that had come before him. Benji would learn it well, as would Jude someday, if needed. Men brought up behind gilded stone walls, never wanting for anything if they only said the word.
It made the success of the election all the more gratifying. He had sketched out his vision, laid his path, engineered each domino's fall, and in the end left it all in the hands of the British people to decide.
They had chosen him. What some would denigrate as a pretty boy dressed in his father's money, sneering their faux deference when he'd never asked for it, had been chosen to lead the wizarding world into the next era. Lead he certainly would, but he'd never be successful without the right people at his side.
Roger Burke was an American, and had no real place in British politics, aside if his own government were to place him as an ambassador of sorts. With that being said, he was one of the few men James had come to trust over the last few years - his brother-in-law being another - and with the rapid disintegration of a close branch of their family, he needed all the friends he could get.
An invitation, personally written by Amelia, had invited the Burkes to come and join the festivities without obligation. Despite the mishaps over the past few summers, relations remained friendly and workable, as their children aged and moved ever closer to finally sealing what he and Roger had worked towards.
A blending of power. America and England. The Burkes and the Laurences. Moving forward into a future that could only be seen as golden.
"Fancy meeting you here," James said jovially, a wide grin on his face as he stepped down from the dais following his speech. Hand outstretched, he shook Roger's, giving him a strong pat on the shoulder as they greeted one another. "Come. Let the women gush over each other. I've got a quieter table back here, away from the crowds."
It was one of a handful of titles James wore now, the first he felt he had truly earned.
Throughout his life, titles, positions, roles, connections - they had all been handed to James simply by prestige of his name and blood. A calculated flash of brown eyes, a sly grin that held no warmth, or a simple reminder of who they were talking to, and people easily bent the knee. They delivered to him on a silver platter what he demanded, in exchange for the illusion of his loyalty or alliance.
It was a dance James had come to memorize, choreographed by his father and all the men that had come before him. Benji would learn it well, as would Jude someday, if needed. Men brought up behind gilded stone walls, never wanting for anything if they only said the word.
It made the success of the election all the more gratifying. He had sketched out his vision, laid his path, engineered each domino's fall, and in the end left it all in the hands of the British people to decide.
They had chosen him. What some would denigrate as a pretty boy dressed in his father's money, sneering their faux deference when he'd never asked for it, had been chosen to lead the wizarding world into the next era. Lead he certainly would, but he'd never be successful without the right people at his side.
Roger Burke was an American, and had no real place in British politics, aside if his own government were to place him as an ambassador of sorts. With that being said, he was one of the few men James had come to trust over the last few years - his brother-in-law being another - and with the rapid disintegration of a close branch of their family, he needed all the friends he could get.
An invitation, personally written by Amelia, had invited the Burkes to come and join the festivities without obligation. Despite the mishaps over the past few summers, relations remained friendly and workable, as their children aged and moved ever closer to finally sealing what he and Roger had worked towards.
A blending of power. America and England. The Burkes and the Laurences. Moving forward into a future that could only be seen as golden.
"Fancy meeting you here," James said jovially, a wide grin on his face as he stepped down from the dais following his speech. Hand outstretched, he shook Roger's, giving him a strong pat on the shoulder as they greeted one another. "Come. Let the women gush over each other. I've got a quieter table back here, away from the crowds."
the winter sun rise
red on white like
blood
upon the snow
