“No.” The Chairman stalked around the King’s private withdrawing room, unwilling to take a seat.

“Then I’ll have one for you.” Frederick poured a dollop of amber liquid from a cut-crystal decanter, looked over at the other man and added a second shot. The Great King of all humanity did not need to ask permission.

The fact that Basil and the Hansa leaders were searching for his replacement was no news to Frederick. He was not so naive as to think that the Chairman had not been making plans all along, regardless of whether he kept them secret. Through his own spy network, Frederick had learned long ago about the first intended replacement, Prince Adam, an abortive candidate who had ultimately proved too intractable and unsuitable for the Hansa’s purposes. Frederick had been waiting for years to hand the crown off to a successor. Frankly, he was surprised Basil had waited so long to make his announcement.

He took a long sip of the sweet sherry. “I am very much looking forward to my retirement. I’m tired of everyone watching my moves day in and day out.”

Bemused, Basil raised his hands to indicate the opulence of the Whisper Palace. “I don’t understand you, Frederick. You have everything a person could possibly want. Why would you fantasize about retiring? It makes no sense.”

“We are two different men, Basil. You could never envision giving up your work, but I long for an end to all… this.”

Basil finally took a seat. “Frederick, if I were ever to retire and ‘relax,’ I wouldn’t last six months before I threw myself off a cliff into the sea.”

“I have no doubt of it, old friend,” said the King.

The Chairman and the King had both begun to work for the Hansa at about the same time—Basil rising quickly under his predecessor Chairman, while the young actor-prince underwent careful training and coaching—but Frederick had always been in the public eye. He had ruled Earth and its subject planets for close to half a century, and enough was enough. He sipped his sherry again. “Basil, I am damn tired of ceremonies, of waving flags and cheering crowds who applaud my every movement as if simply walking down a hall or standing on a balcony were enough to strike awe into the hearts of my subjects.”

The Chairman’s voice was calm. “Most people would envy you all that.”

“Then go ahead, pick one of them and give him my job.” The King subsided into a gold-inlaid chair studded with jewels. Its padding was hand-embroidered by a hundred different workers, forming designs and geometric patterns that Frederick had long ceased to appreciate. He let out a long sigh.