3. Partner in the Empire

As Amor had grown, the eternal fires around Tresmo had acquired a third meaning—besides Sneaky Spot and Funeral Fires. Whenever anything official had to happen, anything that required the “eyes of the gods to witness”, they would do it in front of Tresmo too. They both believed he was dead as well as a god, at the same time, and it confused the tree a lot.

Nevertheless, looking on the bright side again, he was able to oversee all these official events too. Of course, the attendants didn’t actually walk through the flames. They would stand in front of them, barely, and use them as a nice backdrop to radiate power and strength to enemies and allies.

And today Klaudios did so again, as the monkeys from Casbrita came to visit Amor.

Not long ago, Klaudios had launched a campaign trying to conquer their island. Several emperors before him had tried, most notably Gulios Kaisar, but he was the first to be successful. Or, well, the monkeys had a different view …

Their messenger greeted Klaudios as he should. He spoke countless words of praise and bowed so deeply that the guards had to scrape him off the floor a minute later. Gatagrip sat next to the emperor, her husband now, but the messenger barely spared her a glance. In fact, he stuck out his glass, expecting her to refill it with wine.

“You’re obviously not going to get further,” said their messenger, reading from a papyrus scroll. The Casbrita leader, whom they called Ape Lord, had written this message. “So let me state the Ape Lord’s demands—”

“Nonsense,” said Klaudios. “We invited you here to discuss a deal, to think about becoming … allies. After the First Conflict, that terrible war, the Companionship demands it of us.”

“You know the monkeys are the only split species,” said the messenger, surprised. “You know half of us will never accept your rule, and half of us will always love Amor.”

Klaudios pursed his lips. “This is why I invited the Ape Lord himself, not some puny messenger. You can’t see further than your own toes. Well I see a grand future in which Amor has united all beings! Go away! And return when you’re serious—”

The Senators standing around shouted with him, or at least nodded their approval.

Gatagrip coughed, loudly.

“But love,” she lied, “shouldn’t you warn them?”

“Warn … warn about what?” asked Klaudios, annoyed.

“Oh … oh no … I really shouldn’t say this,” said Gatagrip. She turned her head away with a dramatic flair.

“Speak up, woman,” demanded the monkey messenger. “Or confirm your uselessness.”

Gatagrip pretended to weigh the options, then lazily stepped forward to join her husband.

“I’m afraid I found evidence of someone using dark magic,” said Gatagrip. “Someone close to our family.”

The gathering fell silent. Ever since the First Conflict, magic had entered their world. More and more creatures appeared that were the son or daughter of a god, and acquired fanciful powers as a result. Some of those powers, however, were deemed “unholy” or “dark”, and if you were seen practicing them, you were sentenced to death. Unfortunately, nobody had bothered to define exactly what “dark magic” meant.

Klaudios looked worried. “We’ll talk about this later. Let’s first finish our meeting with the—”

“Oh but Klaudios,” said Gatagrip, “don’t wait! Don’t allow her to cause a catastrophe! You must act now!”

“Her? Who is it then? I will send guards to the home right now and arrest her!”

With a fake lump in her throat, Gatagrip spoke the name of Kaligull’s wife. She was still alive, and had been empress for some time, which made her a competitor for the throne.

Klaudios was lost for words. If he didn’t act now, he would be ignoring a heartfelt plea from his wife. Even worse, he’d look weak in front of the powerful monkeys. If he did act, it would mean removing a wise and beloved family member based on no evidence at all.

“Please, dear,” said Klaudios. “Let me finish negotiations with our … allies, and don’t interrupt me—”

“Oh, I just can’t help myself,” said Gatagrip, cheeks flushing red. “There are so many rumors that trouble me. But you’re right, I should not say a word—”

The monkey messenger stepped up to her. Finally, she was worth more than a glance.

“Rumors? Troubles? Speak up, woman.”

Gatagrip spoke about an arranged marriage that was soon to happen. One of the prettiest and wealthiest young women in Amor, to be wed off to some other young man—instead of her son Empero. Of course, as you expect, Gatagrip had a “trustworthy source” that told her the young man was secretly married to someone else. They had to act now, before the wedding was over.

Klaudios’ paws started shaking, as his tail fell flat and limb to the stone floor. His mouth started many questions for Gatagrip, but didn’t finish any of them. If he didn’t act, he’d look even weaker in front of the monkeys, having no control over his own citizens.

So Klaudios acted.

Gatagrip entertained the messenger and tried to gain their friendship. The monkey didn’t seem entirely convinced. She promised him that the next time they’d visit, he’d barely be able to see the palace through the statues in Gatagrip’s honor.

Her husband evicted the “black magic witch” from her home and forced her out of Amor. They raided the young man’s home and found evidence of his secret activities. He was lucky to get away alive, merely losing his wealth, his status, and the love of his life.

Since that day, Klaudios asked Gatagrip for the latest rumors and advice every morning. Until she was known as the “partner in the empire”.

In the years that followed, Empero was confused. He had never seen his mother this happy. He hadn’t even realized how stern and serious she was before, how she had always been busy scheming or talking to him about politics. How her rare smiles had actually all been fake.

Now she would often join Empero in singing a tune. They shared the same gift of a beautiful voice, and it was said Klaudios would stroll through the garden at night and simply revel in the beautiful sounds coming from the palace.

Though Empero was perhaps growing too old for it, Gatagrip suddenly had more time to read him bedtime stories. Or play games with him. Not every conversation was about power and thrones anymore.

As Empero met his tutor more often, this confusion slowly made place for understanding.

“Your mother is like … like fire,” said Sinnika. The older man was a giant fox. He looked like he lived in a cave and ate bugs for breakfast, but his body was strong and his mind was sharp. “She acts. She gets what she wants now. No matter … no matter the cost.”

Sinnika kept shaking his head as he explained the latest events. Empero always missed this, because his mother kept him locked up inside and told him to study, study, study.

“She has convinced Klaudios to give her the honorable title of Augusta. As if she were as good and wise as first emperor Augostos! Foolish! And then Klaudios named a new colony in her name, as if she lead the army and conquered it!”

Sinnika turned around and pointed out a few mistakes in Empero’s handwriting.

“Well, boy, I think your mother realizes she has what she wanted. Power. A seat beside the emperor, a man whom she loves and who listens to her. Equal rights.” Sinnika drifted off, mumbling. “Or, well, something close to it.”

“And I must be like fire too?”

“No!” Sinnika grabbed another sheet of papyrus and asked Empero to draw circles again. “You’re not dumb, boy. You know what your mother did.”

Empero grew to his full height, furious, briefly standing on his hind legs. “Are you accusing my mother of—”

“See what I mean?” said Sinnika calmly. “You mustn’t let emotions rule you, boy, if you want to be the best emperor there ever was. An emperor has to be calm. Wise. Listen to advice and make a rational judgement.”

Empero shrunk to his boyish size and focused on his work again, taking a writing feather between his jaws. “Sure. Then I’l be as boring as you. You never broke a single law in your life, or, you know, achieved anything.”

“I was sentenced to death,” said Sinnika, staying composed. “But Klaudios was merciful and made it exile instead. And then Gatagrip convinced him to give me a second chance. And I do believe she was right—you still have much to learn, boy, and I am the only one who can teach you well!”

Empero dropped his feather. “You were … why? What did you do?”

“I wrote things that were true, but which nobody wanted to hear,” spoke Sinnika sadly. But then his eyes lit up. “You must not be so foolish, Empero. You must become a philosopher, a free thinker, who accepts all opinions and charts a true course for the Amor Empire!”

Sinnika took Empero by the shoulders. He’d been tutoring the boy for years now, watching him grow up from a silly little boy to a, let’s be honest, silly little young man. He embraced Empero as if he were his own son, which is obviously a metaphor as Sinnika was a fox and Empero a wolf, but the idea stands.

“If your mother is fire and heat, well …” Sinnika said, as noise came from afar. “Then you must be the calm light that guides the way.”

Tresmo would like to say that this was the start of something good. But he had seen this again and again. He had seen the angels of history who tried to spread hope and good, and he had seen equally many devils to break them down.

Lately, Gatagrip was leading the pack.

Sinnika and Empero left their study hall to approach the noise. Empero remembered that the monkeys were to visit again, this time bringing the Ape Lord for serious negotiations. The Companionship was a brittle idea, but it was holding for now. All the animals tried to work together and prevent more world-wide wars.

When the Ape Lord approached, shadows seemed to grow four times as large, and even the bravest of wolves cowered in his presence. His black-furred head was even visible over statues of Gatagrip, making it seem as if those sculptures suddenly had two heads.

He bowed to Gatagrip. He bowed as deeply as the messenger had done all those years ago.

Then he bowed to Klaudios in equal measure—or was it slightly less deep?

He praised Gatagrip’s energy, decisiveness, and support for the emperor. Then he praised Klaudios’ hairdo, which felt like a lesser compliment somehow.

The Senate had often called Klaudios “infirm”. He was easily swayed by the whispers of his wife, or the love for his son from the previous marriage. He could change opinions based on his mood, and that made them doubt his leadership.

He was infirm, yes, but he was not stupid. In that moment, Tresmo saw Klaudios shiver, he felt Klaudios’ heart rate shoot to dangerous levels, and he sensed a dangerous idea brewing in the emperor.

The sudden, sharp realization it had been a mistake to marry Gatagrip. And that he wanted his son on the throne—not Empero.

He played along as the Ape Lord talked, and talked, and told stories about their island and showed off their inventions with no lack of arrogance. But later that night, when the meeting was over and everyone had gone, Klaudios braved the eternal flames and touched Tresmo’s bark to make a whispered confession.

“I will remove Gatagrip, the woman who has plagued Amor for long enough, and I will do it tonight, or I’m not worthy of the title emperor.”