Winterpalast des Kaisers
Brandenburg, capital city of NeukarlslandFriedrich IV, by the Favor of the Ancestors Emperor of Karlsland, King of Prussia, Margrave of Brandenburg, etc., etc., sat in his private study, and a brown one.
He should, he knew, have been in bed hours ago. He had a very great deal to do on the morrow, and almost all of it to be conducted in the full glare of public scrutiny. His whole country - indeed, much of the world - would be giving him its undivided attention for several quite busy hours, and it wouldn't do for him to spend the day looking as if he had passed the night before drinking brandy, staring into space, and wishing he didn't have to do any of it.
So it was a bit inconvenient that that was what he had spent the evening doing, so far, and that he felt no particular inclination to go and do anything else for the rest of it.
The clock on the mantelpiece above the study fireplace chimed midnight. With a heavy sigh, the Kaiser poured himself another slug of brandy, tossed most of it back, put the glass down on his desk, and regarded the framed portrait standing next to the telephone. He'd killed most of a bottle of Asbach Uralt thus far tonight, and he didn't feel even slightly drunk. That was surely a bad sign.
Hannelore, he thought, considering the photograph. What would you say to me if you were here right now?
He thought he knew the answer, and so it came as a considerable shock when he realized a moment later that he'd actually heard it with his ears, not just in his mind:
"Fritzchen, you faithless cur."