I delivered the glass to the Duke, who held it as his sister alternated between timid sips and resting her head against his golden coat. No, tonight’s coat was something more than gold. Have you seen yellow diamonds, reader? The sunburst brightness that mocks gold, “You dull, opaque old metal, you’re barely fine enough to coat the outside of my treasure box, while I, I capture the light itself, slice it into shards and turn it into me!”

I have spoken with several doctors hoping one could identify this prescient illness which affected Danaë before the day’s dooms showed their faces. One proposed anemia, another that she sensed the anxieties of her adopted children, but I suspect it is simply a sensitivity, like orchids, or old men’s knees which tremble at the scent of danger in Fate’s breath. The skill is natural enough in this creature, who maintains herself ever on exhaustion’s threshold, so her favorite weapons, hysteria and fainting, remain keen.

“His Majesty,” the crier began anew, “Isabel Carlos II, King of Castile, of Aragon, of Navarre, of León, of Galicia, of Granada, of the Canary Islands, of Jaén, of Córdoba, of

Mallorca and Menorca, of Murcia, of Algeciras, of Seville, of Toledo, of Valencia, of Gibraltar, of the Algarve, of the Two Sicilies, of Jerusalem, of Sardinia, of Corsica, of the Indies and Mainland of the Ocean Sea, of the Islands and Mainlands of the Ocean Sea, Archduke of Austria, Duke of Burgundy, of Athens and Neopatria, Count of Barcelona, Count of Flanders, Lord of Biscay and of Molina, and former Prime Minister of the European Union.”

We will forgive the King of Spain if tonight of all nights he did not have the patience to wait through his full list of titles before entering. He nodded in geritocratic order to the others, first to Faust, then Bryar, then the Anonymous, and last the trio, pausing to frown his sympathies at Danaë, but all these he passed, stopping only at Perry. “Welcome inside, Prime Minister.” He offered his hand. “You have worked very hard to get here. I hope to see that energy do the world much good.”

Perry trembled as he took the king’s hand. “Thank you, Your Majesty. I doubt you can believe me, but I’m sorry I had to come here at your expense. I have far more respect for you than for anyone else who’s ever set foot in this room…”

“Careful,” Faust objected.

“… and I hope I’m right that you will see brighter days when this is over.”

Spain accepted the glass of manzanilla I had waiting for him. “Thank you, Prime Minister. Membership in this circle represents a common hope that we with power may do more good for the world as colleagues than as adversaries. I hope you will embrace that.”

Duke President Ganymede is never so cross as when he is forced to sit through the titles of a true king. “If Your Majesty wants Perry to dig their claws out of your heir,” he jabbed, “you should just beg and have done.”