6. Turning Tides

Empero stood in the midst of the harbor. He enjoyed a gentle summer’s breeze, chatted with the Commonfolk who worked around him, and joined in when they sung sea shanties.

His mother was supposed to leave today. Instead, her figure appeared on the horizon again. With a thunderous expression, she walked back to her son.

“Is this a joke? Are you playing with me—oh, no, of course.” Gatagrip smiled and embraced her son, standing at the edge of the docks. “I knew you’d see sense! You don’t really want me to leave, do you—”

“I thought I was clear about not hugging me in public,” said Empero, disliking how whiny and childish he sounded. “And about you leaving. Why are you still here?”

“My ship just … wasn’t there.”

Empero sighed, then turned to face the horizon. “Here. You can borrow my ship. As long as your whispers in my ear are gone for good.”

Gatagrip’s face turned dark and sour again. She huffed, and puffed, and growled, and howled, but he was the emperor and she was disliked by everyone—at least, everyone who was still alive to hate her—so she obeyed.

Empero’s ship was a new one, still covered in the scent of fresh paint and shaved wood. A small vessel in his honor, for short trips, or so the name Empero’s Quickdive implied.

Gatagrip made herself comfortable. And without looking back at her son, she left the city of Amor for good.

Sinnika joined Empero in watching her leave. Until their eyes were blinded by the summer sun reflected on the sparkling blue waves of port Ossia.

“It will work?” he whispered in his ear.

“I designed it myself,” whispered Empero. “Of course the contraption will work.”

They spoke no more of it, especially with so many Commonfolk around.

“The Senate is waiting for you,” insisted Sinnika. “And we seem to be entirely out of wine and snacks.”

“Oh yes,” said Empero. “I gave those supplies to the Commonfolk. We have enough to eat as—”

They passed a ship filled with screaming animals. The bright sun had set it aflame, and now the crew tried to get off and extinguish the fires. This was quite a common occurrence on the hottest days of summer. In most cases, the ship was simply pushed away from shore to prevent the fire from spreading, and that was that.

The curse of the eternal leaky buckets made it very hard to actually beat a fire in Amor.

“Maybe it’s time we start taking more precautions—” started Sinnika.

“Really? Not so long ago, you convinced me fires were a rarity.”

Sinnika stroked his beard. “A wise emperor is able to change his views when new evidence presents itself. You’ve read Alix’ work. When he started writing Studies of the Universe, he believed a little being lived inside us all. Ten pages later, he corrected himself and proposed a better theory. This goes on and on and on, and that’s what made him so clever.”

And that’s why Empero would like to be the one to revive him. If Alix’ notes are correct, and Empero read them correctly, he knew how to do it. He would go down in history as the good emperor who brought back the smartest mind that ever lived.

The pair of them stopped near the heart of Amor, where Tresmo’s leaves were enjoying the sunlight. The eternal flames around him reached quite high, but Tresmo was even taller. Some birds were strong enough to reach such heights too, which always gave him a canopy of roosting—and exhausted, potentially vertigo-suffering—birds.

“Don’t worry,” said Empero. “Nothing will harm Amor while I rule. Nothing can destroy this beautiful city, certainly not some tiny fires!”

“But—”

“Where would we find the funds? I’m not going to raise the Commonfolk taxes again. And you convinced me not to anger the Elite by reducing their income.”

“Yes, yes, yes,” said Sinnika, lost in thought. “Years of giving everyone whatever they asked for has put is in a bit of a bind, boy.”

“I’m not a boy anymore. I’m the emperor. You can write in your little history books that I listened to your advice but wisely decided to prioritize more important matters!”

“You know, I’m not the only one writing about events,” he said. “We have many historic writers in Amor, which is how we ensure none of us is lying.”

“Are you calling me a liar?”

“Yes,” said Sinnika honestly. “A good emperor is surrounded by people who are not afraid to speak their mind.”

Empero stopped walking. He was tempted to touch Tresmo’s bark, but today he didn’t dare step through the eternal flames. He waved at some Senators, who glared and didn’t wave back. He was able to tell a bear, who was repairing a ship, the right measurements for a sail.

“Then speak honestly,” he whispered. “Am I a good emperor? Will your history book talk about me?”

“You are on the right path. Removing your mother’s terrible influence will help too. But a few years is not enough to judge. That’s the thing, boy: caring for your folk never ends.”

“I worked so hard for so long.” Empero’s shoulders sagged. “But you’re right. I need something extra to really be the best.”

“It’s not a competition. It’s about placating the Elite so you keep your job as emperor, while being kind to the Commonfo—”

Empero was already gone. Dark clouds formed over Amor. Thunder had been predicted. And although weather forecasting was a bit more wishy-washy in these times—mostly involving educated guesses, sacrificing goats and other rituals—Empero had studied the universe enough to know he was right.

He traveled to an empty plot of land outside the walls of Amor. He let everyone know where he was, but also that he was not to be disturbed. Nobody lived near enough to be hurt if anything went wrong; the empty plot of land contained only one building, and it was a tall but abandoned watch tower.

As per Alix’ instructions, he’d built a complex device. All his years of studying math, construction, and more paid off. He had Sinnika to thank for it all. Could he promote him? Could he make him his partner in the empire? It would be well-deserved for the fox.

Evening fell and turned the landscape into a gray haze. The first lightning struck, some miles further downriver.

The device seemed to work. Even with lightning so far away, it gave Empero a reading of the energy within. A number that … didn’t tell him anything yet. He had to wait for thunder to strike again, closer to him. The number doubled. Yes, the device worked.

One version of the device stood on the ground. One version was attached to the watchtower and raised to maximum height.

This allowed him to measure the energy both in the sky and on the ground.

Thunder struck again. Very nearby. Empero assumed the next one would strike the tower, and made sure to hide somewhere safe. But he could barely hide, because he was jumping from joy.

Alix had been right. There was a difference between positive and negative, which is why a bolt of energy traveled down. The thing we call thunder.

One thing, however, did not make sense. Sinnika had said that energy was never added or removed. Energy never changed. All energy there would ever be, was created when the universe started and that was that. It only converted to different things, to different places.

And so, Empero had expected to see exactly the same energy both on the ground and in the sky. The thunder was created, then simply traveled to the ground.

But it wasn’t the same. On the ground, the energy was far, far weaker. Barely enough to make Empero scared, which is why he crept out of his hiding place to double-check if the contraption really worked.

At that moment he heard hoofbeats.

He turned around and saw a messenger approaching.

“Empero! Empero!” said the young boy naïvely. “Disaster has struck! Your mother’s ship mysteriously sunk!”

“Oh no. What a surprise. I checked the boat myself, it surely wasn’t one of those self-collapsing boats! I thank you for braving this weather and giving me the message, and I will mourn my mother—”

“She isn’t dead. She survived, though she had to swim for quite a while.”

“Oh. What a surprise.”

Thunder struck again. Exactly where Empero and the messenger stood.

They both stumbled backward, but not for long. He was too interested to see the readings on the devices. Again, energy seemed to have been lost. How could that happen? Thunder was just a bolt of light moving from here to there.

Or maybe …

The thunderstorm passed him by. It made for Amor with terrifying speed.

Empero asked the messenger to give a cryptic message to Sinnika: Make sure the mission succeeds, whatever it takes. His tutor supported the plot against his mother, and he hoped he’d understand the message too. If Gatagrip survived this, who knows what damage she could do as she clawed her way back to Amor.

The messenger—who, let me remind you, was himself a horse and not sitting on horseback, as only humans did that and they didn’t exist yet—frowned. But he accepted the message and returned to Amor, as if chasing the thunder.

Empero continued writing down measurements and trying to complete Alix’ plan. But with energy being lost, there was no hope of reviving that Alchemist.

With a mixture of joy and disappointment, he trotted back to Amor.

There, he found a city engulfed in flames.