“I want the Throne Hall cleaned up and repaired instantly. Spare no expense. Bring in all the materials you need, but release no images of the damage. I don’t want the public to see it. Not ever. The next time we show the Throne Hall, it should look good as new—in fact, more impressive than ever before. King Frederick is dead, but we cannot let anyone know how deeply the hydrogues wounded us. Public dismay would cause more damage in the long run.”

Pellidor’s eyes were distant as he considered how best to assemble discreet work teams of architects and engineers.

“Immediately following the funeral of state,” Basil continued, “we will host a glamorous coronation for King Peter. And I want a genuine celebration. You know, ‘long live the new King!’” He took one step ahead of the Teacher compy. “Come, OX. You and I have to write the first public speech Prince Peter will give. I think I have exactly the right announcement for him to make.”

When Peter stepped out onto the oration balcony of the Whisper Palace, Basil watched him with all the critical skepticism of a perfectionist director of an expensive entertainment production.

Prince Peter’s hair and clothes were immaculate, his posture and poise admirable. Looking at him now, Basil could see almost no remnant of the streetwise Raymond Aguerra. Peter looked like images of a young King Frederick, though many of those photographs and holograms had been subtly doctored in recent months to enhance the resemblance between the two.

The public was surprised to learn of the young Prince’s existence, for King Frederick’s family life had been a closely held secret. But in such trying times, they expressed neither shock nor complaint, only relief that the Hansa crown would be passed smoothly to a new ruler and sympathy toward Peter for the loss of his revered “father.” Old Frederick had been pleasant and benevolent, and his reign had spanned calm waters. Now, with the hydrogue depredations, a stronger monarch was required.

At the start of the well-rehearsed speech, Prince Peter raised his hands, as he had been instructed to do. The crowd swarming across the plaza roared with approval. “To all my people on Earth and all my subjects in Hansa colonies, allow me to introduce myself.” Peter gave them a cocky smile. “In the times to come, we’ll probably be seeing a lot of each other.”

Basil frowned at the Prince’s casual ad-libbed comment. His speech hadn’t been scripted in that way, but the people chuckled—they actually chuckled—which was a heartening sound and a great relief after their shock and grief. While Basil was annoyed that Peter had already departed from the script, perhaps the young man’s instincts weren’t so bad. A warmhearted and beloved leader could draw the population together more effectively than a stony, aloof idol.