Single Mother of a Werewolf Baby

Chapter 268: Baron Anthony Hayward Chapman

While Eleanor was busy with her training at the academy, the Kingdom was alive with the frenzy of the upcoming

election.

The cavernous interior of Bishopsgate Goods Yard pulsed with energy... half anticipation, half excitement. Once a

Victorian rail depot, its vast iron skeleton now glittered beneath rows of suspended lighting rigs that cast a cool,

blue-tinged glow across a sea of thousands. The air was thick with a peculiar blend... the chill of a night draft

mingling with the heat of gathered bodies, the sharp tang of perfume, and the faint, nostalgic scent of pipe

smoke.

This was the first major rally of Baron Anthony Hayward Chapman, newly announced as a candidate for Prime

Minister. The crowd itself mirrored the dual nature of the man they had cto see... both polished and

grounded. Party officials from neighbouring constituencies stood shoulder to shoulder, their seasoned faces lined

with experience, while supporters from far-flung regions added a vibrant tapestry of colours and accents that

already signalled the rally’s success.

Backstage, behind a corridor of black drapes, Anthony stood motionless. The roar of the crowd reached him as a

muted rumble, a heartbeat of distant thunder. He closed his eyes, fingertips brushing the worn surface of the

wooden chair he was sitting.

"Two minutes, sir," cthe calm voice of his new secretary and bodyguard, Kevin Blanc.

Anthony nodded once.

Kevin continued, brisk and professional. "The feed's live on all major networks. The bio-package is running. One

reminder... land the Skills Fund line with purpose, but save the vocal punch for the third ‘Kingdom First’. We'll

need that clip for the ten o'clock news."

Anthony's eyes flickered open. Beyond the curtain, he could hear the warm-up speaker reaching the height of his

introduction. The voice... a little rough, unmistakably East London... was that of his old friend Jim Broadbent.

Anthony allowed himself a fleeting, genuine smile.

On the other side of the drapes, Jim was working the crowd with easy mastery. "I see sof you wondering

what a commoner likeis doing introducing your Baron!" he called, earning a ripple of laughter. "Well, let me

tell you about the Baron of Bethnal Green. When we were kids playing football down Brick Lane, he wasn’t the

biggest. Wasn't the fastest. But he was always the one who led us. He'd see the whole pitch... see things the rest

of us couldn't. He'd organise us, get us working together."

"Many of our schoolmates didn’t even know his father was the Minister of State. That's the sort of man he’s

always been. And that’s why this ‘Kingdom First’ isn’t just sslogan dreamed up in a fancy office... it's in his

bones! He's never forgotten where he cfrom, never forgotten his old friends no matter how different our

families might've been. And | believe he won't let this country forget where it can go!"

Jim paused, letting the moment breathe, then thundered, "It is my honour to present to you... your Prime

Minister... Anthony Hayward Chapman, the Baron of Bethnal Green!"

The applause struck like a wave... roaring, physical, almost making the floor vibrate.

Anthony opened his eyes. The smile was gone, replaced by an expression of cool, steady resolve. He stepped

forward through the curtain, each stride measured and sure.

On the giant screens behind the stage, the biographical video began to play... grainy footage of a young, dark-

haired man in a hard hat... Anthony's father, poring over architectural plans; a quick, evocative shot of the old

East End markets; then Anthony himself, younger, speaking passionately in the Commons. A glimpse of his class

at the London School of Economics, then scenes of his work in Parliament as an MP.

The video ended on a freeze-frof him waving to a cheering crowd during his last campaign... caught mid-

motion, confident, smiling.

The noise was deafening as Anthony stepped onto the stage. He moved into the light, waving slowly, his gaze

sweeping over the crowd, seeming to meet a thousand pairs of eyes at once. Spotting Jim at the side of the

stage, he crossed to him and pulled him into a firm, back-slapping embrace that lingered just long enough to

prove its sincerity. Cameras flashed, capturing the perfect tableau... the noble and the common man, bound by

friendship and history.

Reaching the podium, Anthony bypassed it entirely, taking up a handheld microphone instead... choosing

exposure, choosing connection. The crowd gradually quieted, the roar fading into an expectant hum.

"Jim Broadbent," he began, his voice warm and amplified to fill the hall, "is my childhood friend. We went to the

sschool, played on the spitch. After four years of friendship, one day my father cto a school event

and Jim discovered that | was the son of a Minister of State. From that day, he began to distance himself from

——

A ripple of laughter ran through the audience as Anthony gave a soft chuckle.

"I was just a boy then. | thought | must've hurt his feelings somehow, though I couldn't think how. | tried to guess

what I'd done wrong, and when | couldn't find an answer, | decided I'd apologise anyway. After three months, |

finally did. And that’s when | learned why... he'd been told that | was a noble, the heir to my father’s title, and

that | shouldn’t mix with commoners like him. | was torn. That was the first t| truly understood what social

division meant. My family had never taughtthat."

He paused, letting the weight of the story settle.

"So | went to my mother," he continued, his tone softening. "I asked her why I shouldn't spend twith

commoners. She told me, "As long as a person is good at heart and obeys the laws of the Kingdom, you may

befriend anyone.” The rules of the Kingdom... | knew those from books. But what she said next puzzled me. |

asked her, "How can | tell who is good?’ And she said, ‘Look at their servants and their friends. Those whose

servants stay with them for years, and whose friends stand by them through time, are good people.”

A gentle smile crossed his face.

"The next day, | asked Jim how long his family’s servants had been working for them. He laughed and said they

didn’t have any servants. So | said, "All right, then we'll use the second test. We've been friends for years,

haven't we? That means | can be friends with you.” And when he heard that my mother... the Baroness herself

had said he counted as a friend | could keep, he took it like a royal decree."

The crowd chuckled as Anthony turned towards Jim again. "Don’t think I've forgotten, Jim! You becfriends

withunder orders from a Baroness, not by choice!" he teased, ending with a laugh that rippled through the

hall.

He let the laughter fade, then looked out across the sea of faces, his expression firming into resolve.

"This," he said, voice resonant and steady, "is who | am. The lessons I learned on the streets of this Kingdom...

from my neighbours, my teachers, my co-workers... are the slessons that guide the people of this country."

He let a brief silence hang before continuing, quieter but sharper. "And when I look out at you tonight, | don’t just

see supporters. | see the Kingdom itself. | see the nurses, the builders, the teachers, the entrepreneurs... the

people who make this country work while the government in Westminster presides over its slow decline."

The warmth drained from his tone, replaced by steel. "They have put themselves first. Their party first. Their

petty squabbles first. For years, they've managed our decline... and they have the audacity to call it stability!"

The last word rang like a blade. A cry of "Shame!" rose from the East End bloc, swelling and spreading through

the hall.

Anthony waited a beat, then drove forward, his voice rising with force. "Well, | am here to tell you tonight that

decline is a choice! And we choose a different path!"

The crowd erupted, roaring to its feet, thunder in human form. He let the energy crest, raising one arm high

before striking the line that would lead every broadcast that night... clear, deliberate, triumphant.

"I choose my Kingdom First! We choose to put our Kingdom First!"

The chant thundered back at him, rhythmic and unrelenting... "Kingdom First! Kingdom First!"

He rode the wave, his voice rising

[1

above the thunderous chant. "A

country that puts itself first invests in

its own Sieh iis belies rr 2 own

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oBlaRtAN is tone was commanding

now, cutting cleanly through the roar.

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That is why | am announcing tonight

that our first act in government will

be to establish the National Skills

I" :

Renewal Fund!" The content is on

novelenglish.net! Read the latest

chapter there!

The words appeared in bold, crisp type across the giant screens behind him. The applause sharpened... no longer

general excitement, but focused, deliberate enthusiasm. This was the policy moment, the heart of the speech.

"This will not be another Whitehall schlost in a filing cabinet!" he declared, voice charged with conviction.

"This will be billions of pounds... new money... targeted at the towns, the communities, the very streets that have

been left behind not by global forces, but by political neglect!"

He was pointing now, jabbing a finger for emphasis, each gesture striking like punctuation. "We will train the

next generation of builders, coders, engineers, and carers... right here! And we will provide jobs for them in this

Kingdom!"

The crowd roared again, and Anthony pressed on, his tone shifting from fire to gravity.

I" :

| have heard the voices of the past

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for too long," he said. "The voices of

division. The voices that want to label

us, to put us into hoxe§ Yo Getus

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againstior@ansher. He shook his

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head slowly, almost sadly. "But that is

the old politics. The politics of failure.

We are here tonight to speak of the

future... a future where what you can

do matters more than who your

1 :

father was." The content is on

novelenglish.net! Read the latest

chapter there!

A ripple of laughter and applause spread through the hall, the irony of his own title not lost on anyone. He

paused just long enough for it to breathe, then went on, his voice deepening with conviction.

"A future where we are not defined by the class we cfrom, but by the contribution we make. That," he said,

raising his hand in a decisive sweep, "is what putting the Kingdom First truly means!"

He took a breath and straightened, voice ringing now with oratory force.

I" : :

So | ask you tonight... not just to vote

for me. Join me. Carry this message

to your streets, to Sura

ARTee Teffth m that hope is

returning. That unity is possible. That

we are ready... ready to lead, ready to

serve, ready to build a future where

fH . n

we put our Kingdom First!" The

content is on novelenglish.net! Read

the latest chapter there!

The final words cas a shout, and the crowd's response was overwhelming... a roar of joy and triumph that

shook the rafters. Senior party figures surged onto the stage, faces alight with beaming smiles, waving to the

sea of people as the anthem began to play.

The giant screens flashed KINGDOM FIRST! in bold white letters against the deep blue backdrop, while cameras

zoomed in on Baron Anthony Hayward Chapman... centre stage, hand raised, the picture of confident humility.

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