"His grace, his excellency, the Duke of Ankh, Commander Sir Samuel Vimes," the herald called.
King Gregory III, by birthright prince and election king of Askazer-Shivadlakia, bowed as low as his husband (King Theophile "Eddie" Rambler, dux a l'orange) had ever seen. He followed Greg's example, and heard a sardonic snort from the duke.
"If you don't stand up this minute, your majesty, I'll give you a walloping you haven't earned since the puffin incident," Sir Samuel said. He was a tough, weatherbeaten-looking man in a helmet, armor, leather trousers, and scuffed boots. Gregory laughed, straightened, and embraced the strange foreign duke in a hug.
"It's always a delight, Sam," Greg said. "My husband, by the way. King Theophile for formal occasions, but Eddie when he's at home."
"Eddie," Sir Samuel echoed. His handshake was strong, but not weirdly so.
"Sam's one of Dad's best friends. He keeps us out of trouble with Ankh-Morpork and he hates the monarchy with unbridled passion," Greg continued.
"Can I confess I've never heard of Ankh-Morpork?" Eddie said cautiously.
"Few have," Sir Samuel said with a grin. "Just as well. I don't hate you, Greg. You're elected. That's the proper way to go about things. Don't love that crown of yours though."
"It's decorative," Gregory said defensively.
"See that it stays that way. Where is the old bastard emeritus anyhow?" Sam asked.
"SIR SAMUEL!" came a shout across the ballroom, and Michaelis charged forward, meeting the duke in a hug.
"Retired, eh? Cowardly move," Sir Samuel said. "Never thought I'd see the day."
"Vetinari won the bet," Michaelis said cryptically. Eddie watched in fascination. "It's all right. The youngsters can have some fun for now."
"Fun, you call it," Sir Samuel replied, as Michaelis led him away.
"Come meet my grandchildren. How's Young Sam?" Michaelis asked, as their voices faded into the crowd at the ball.
"Sir Samuel is the worst diplomat who ever got the job," Gregory said to Eddie. "He's probably Dad's favorite politician in the world."
"He seems...." Eddie groped for words.
"He sure does," Gregory agreed. "But...he's important, Ed. He helped raise me. Everyone here -- me, Ger, Al...even Dad I think...we are who we are because of him. He believes in people and in the stupidity of people. He loves democracy. He understands imperfection."
"Sounds like a solid dude, as my parents would say," Eddie observed.
"None more solid," Gregory agreed, as the commander lifted Serafina out of Alanna's arm and tossed her up, catching her a second later. The lilacs in the palace garden, lightly disturbed by the movement, swayed back and forth, releasing their scent.
"Who's that Vetinari guy?" Eddie asked, as the party went on around them. Near the doorway to the palace, a man took a broad-brimmed hat from the rack and doffed it to Gregory before slipping away. Simon, nearby, continued to mix banana daiquiris for the waiting diplomats.
"Oh, you are in no way ready for Vetinari yet," Gregory assured him. "Come along. Time you met Lady Sybil."





















