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Two years after the capture of the Greatest Noble, he established a new capital on the coast and named it Kingston. And from Kingston he ruled with an iron hand.

As has been intimated, this was not Arcadia. A year after the founding of Kingston, the old capital was attacked, burned, and almost fell under siege, due to a sudden uprising of the natives under the new Greatest Noble, who had managed to escape. But the uprising collapsed because of the approach of the planting season; the warriors had to go back home and plant their crops or the whole of the agriculture-based country would starve–except the invading Earthmen.

Except in a few instances, the natives were never again any trouble.

But the commander–now the Viceroy–had not seen the end of his troubles.

He had known his limitations, and realized that the governing of a whole planet–or even one continent–was too much for one man when the population consists primarily of barbarians and savages. So he had delegated the rule of a vast area to the south to another–a Lieutenant commander James, known as “One-Eye,” a man who had helped finance the original expedition, and had arrived after the conquest.

One-Eye went south and made very small headway against the more barbaric tribes there. He did not become rich, and he did not achieve anywhere near the success that the Viceroy had. So he came back north with his army and decided to unseat the Viceroy and take his place. That was five years after the capture of the Greatest Noble.

One-Eye took Center City, the old capital, and started to work his way northward, toward Kingston. The Viceroy’s forces met him at a place known as Salt Flats and thoroughly trounced him. He was captured, tried for high treason, and executed.

One would think that the execution ended the threat of Lieutenant commander James, but not so. He had a son, and he had had followers.

XV

Nine years. Nine years since the breaking of a vast empire. It really didn’t seem like it. The Viceroy looked at his hands. They were veined and thin, and the callouses were gone. Was he getting soft, or just getting old? A little bit–no, a great deal of both.

He sat in his study, in the Viceregal Palace at Kingston, chewing over the events of the past weeks. Twice, rumors had come that he was to be assassinated. He and two of his councilors had been hanged in effigy in the public square not long back. He had been snubbed publicly by some of the lesser nobles.

Had he ruled harshly, or was it just jealousy? And was it, really, as some said, caused by the Southerners and the followers of Young Jim?

He didn’t know. And sometimes, it seemed as if it didn’t matter.

Here he was, sitting alone in his study, when he should have gone to a public function. And he had stayed because of fear of assassination.

Was it–

There was a knock at the door.

“Come in.”

A servant entered. “Sir Martin is here, my lord.”

The Viceroy got to his feet. “Show him in, by all means.”

Sir Martin, just behind the servant, stepped in, smiling, and the Viceroy returned his smile. “Well, everything went off well enough without you,” said Sir Martin.

“Any sign of trouble?”

“None, my lord; none whatsoever. The–“

“Damn!” the Viceroy interrupted savagely. “I should have known! What have I done but display my cowardice? I’m getting yellow in my old age!”

Sir Martin shook his head. “Cowardice, my lord? Nothing of the sort. Prudence, I should call it. By the by, the judge and a few others are coming over.” He chuckled softly. “We thought we might talk you out of a meal.”

The Viceroy grinned widely. “Nothing easier. I suspected all you hangers-on would come around for your handouts. Come along, my friend; we’ll have a drink before the others get here.”

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