The Ephemeral Empire

By Century Robot

“Who dreams shall live! And if we do not dream

Then we shall build no Temple into Time.

Yon dust cloud, whirling slow against the sun,

Was yesterday's cathedral, stirred to gold

By heedless footsteps of a passing world.

The faiths of stone and steel are failed of proof.

The King who made religion of a Sword

Passes, and is forgotten in a day.

The crown he wore rots at a lily's root,

The rose unfurls her banners o'er his dust.

The dreamer dies, but never dies the dream,

Though Death shall call the whirlwind to his aid,

Enlist men's passions, trick their hearts with hate,

Still shall the Vision live! Say nevermore

That dreams are fragile things. What else endures

Of all this broken world save only dreams!”

Dana Burnet

Chapter 1: A Quick Coronation

My father wasn’t even half dead when his crown met my scalp. I still feel that lonely cold. That landscape where memory keeps us all. The crown was a silvery metal, fashioned into vines and thorns. Those same thorns were covered in a thin blood splatter. My father told me they were meant to remind the ruler of duty. Not to harm the ruler but to protect the vines. Back then I never knew what he meant. When the crown of thorns was fitted onto me by the master priests, I only wished for one thing. To see my father wear it once more.

Even at fifteen I took great care to groom myself. Every week I would cut my own hair and trim my own nails, despite having servants to do so. In fact an hour before the coronation I was shaving myself of all hair, but twenty minutes later I was alerted to my father’s mortal wounds. I wished not to speak with my father, for I knew he loved me and I loved him. Nor did I wish for him to give me some sort of sage advice for running a kingdom.

All I really desired was to see my father wear the crown, to see how it should be worn.

My father’s bedside looked more like a priest’s house, with a horde of men and women praising him, requesting answers to questions he could not even imagine the origin of, or begging for forgiveness.

As I waited for my turn I realized how early in the day it was. The sun had just begun to rise. I thought then my father would have some stern words for me. That the upkeep of appearance doesn’t warrant waking so early. I would answer back with “Demons do not sleep and wait for us.” He would agree but remind me of some lessons. “A little discipline, a little self sacrifice. A little remembering each day is what we get up for. Demons do not sleep till noon.” Then he would smile.

I smiled, awaiting such an interaction with my father. Then that dead chill around the thorns reminded me. I wouldn’t be allowed such a kindness. No one would tell me about how my habits to maintain a good looking appearance would cost my health. Or how I waste time on myself instead of spending it with other people. No one, I was a lone boy.

Surprisingly, my father lingered on long enough so that I could speak with him one on one. His breathings stuttered, like a wheel stuck in mud. Skin around his eyes was purple instead of black as they usually were. His once sun tanned skin shifted into a steel gray.

I could tell he was but a sentence away from death. I spoke first.

“King Carmody. Master of Geogos, ruler of a hundred miles. I, Iogos Carmody, have been crowned as your heir today.” My heart started to feel heavy, as barbed wires strangled my throat. It was hard for me to speak to him. “Today and all future days will be ones of mourning. For all that have known you, will miss you. And…I want to see…”

I couldn’t bear to ask.

My father rose up from his bed and put both of his hands to my eyes. He pulled into the bed and placed his bedsheets over me. He held me close, so that his beard brushed at my forehead. Funny, he smelled like dried flowers, particular azaleas. He had always smelled like that.

During that embrace, I had forgotten all my worries. Anything conflict, real and imagined. And sadly, I had forgotten to ask my question.

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But my father granted me an awakening. With two sentences.

“I was poisoned. Despite my doom, I love you like the moon loves the sun.”

As quickly as he spoke… he passed. He went cold. Cold as corpse. My heart burned like tinder for a fire. A fire that would burn anything around it. I was robbed. Someone robbed me of my father and my question.

The day after was my wedding. It hadn’t been changed to be earlier, but the ceremony was notably… protected. Geogos soldiers had always resembled more of a stone armadillo rather than a soldier in armor, but so many made the atmosphere less joyous.

My crown still felt cold but I made small changes to it, at least for that day. The vines were locked with real flowers. I wanted to have a flower crown that never rotted, but the magic to create such a thing was impossible.

However, my wife was not unskilled in magic. She was a human, with her skin being black as night and hair wildly red. The amulet we provided her allowed her to breath in the underwater sections of the Carmody manor. Looking back on it now, we made a bizarre but cute pair. Myself being a merfolk, my scales were a sea coral purple and my hair stood up, like it was perpetually in water.

Faitos was briefed about my father’s passing only after our marriage was completed. My uncle would be regent until I reached the age of twenty, a custom with our people. For now, the duty of my wife and I was to produce as many children as possible. And my family did that by locking us in the royal bedchambers.

We were both fifteen and we both knew something was up. Sadly there were no windows. So we sat against one of the walls and waited. We didn’t talk since we didn’t know each others’ languages. I knew Faitos was Iozian, but I had yet to have lessons. This marriage was built on a political alliance with an Iozian Oligarch, not of love and understanding.

Minutes passed, as we scooched closer to each other. Eventually after an hour, her head rested on my shoulder. I could feel her heartbeat. It was tender. Gentle like a leaf in still water. I couldn’t tell what she was thinking, but I could feel it. The hopelessness. The doubt.

Suddenly, her hand clasped around mind. Faitos eyes rose high, surprised by how metallic and wet my scales felt. She pulled away and wiped her hand across my pants. This embarrassment made me laugh. I don’t why I laughed the way I did, sort of like a goofy kid. But I needed it, desperately so.

As I laughed, she joined too. We chuckled for a bit and for the first time, our eyes met. I was staring into a calm volcano in a sea of milk. I could sense it, even then. My Faitos was special. I recognized that she found my eyes quite pleasing. A minute of awkward ogling at each’s eyes passed before our hands held together again.

After four attempts, we managed to bash down the door and escape the bedroom. Faitos held onto my hand but kept behind me, likely startled by our many trophy heads. In the Carmody manor, halls were decorated with various sea creatures we hunted. We always prided ourselves on killing god’s strong animals.

From my pocket I grabbed a capsule. I motioned her over, to grab and open it. She took it and popped the cap open. She retched for a second, not familiar with the smell of fish chum. Across the hall swam my prized eel Triko. Faitos again hid behind me, terrific of my hunting animal. Humans usually have hawks, but we merfolk had eels and groupers. Triko, contained in a water bubble, licked my face and clung around my neck like a scarf.

Using her hand, I slowly made Faitos pet Triko, showing that he was friendly. I giggled as Faitos was mortified, but within a few strokes Faitos calmed down. In fact, she joined in my giggling. We were together and we were happy. I began to feel something close to love. Perhaps not that of romance, but of friendship. Maybe even family.

My real family was not to be found in the manor. My mother not in the coral garden. My brother not cupboard crafting candles. Nor my uncle in the throne room. No servants or courtiers, just empty rooms full of empty space.

Until we found the dining room, where everything was set for a feast. Fattened crabs and mustard sauce, salted salmon wrapped in baked kelp, and sour dough bread plates to eat and eat off of. Faitos looked especially hungry and I had to hold Triko back from gouging himself. We each took plates and sat beside one another.

Iozians like her ate with spoons and forks, but there were none available. She went to eat with her hands but I wished not to humiliate her. I provided her with a stia, a utensil in the shape of a starfish. She understood it quickly and smiled when I handed it to her. We didn’t speak or fumble ourselves.

We were genuinely mundane. No great tragedy or conflict.

As we ate our meal, I realized that I had forgotten my father. His last words.

I stopped eating. He was poisoned. But by who? Who robbed me?

Faitos must have noticed my anger, as she laid her hand against my cheek. She felt calm and made me calm. I bowed my head, upset that my demeanor had sour enough that she had to intervene. I speedily pulled her from the table and pulled her to the adjacent salon.

She seemed upset that she didn’t get to finish her food but my efforts to beautify her interrupted her mood. As quickly as I started, I made great improvements to her hair and face. A few shaves and brushes strokes, she looked like heaven grew feet and walked. Holding up a mirror to her face, her reflection showed awe and amazement. I again couldn’t tell what she was saying but it sounded grateful. Faitos kept looking at the mirror, gently dragging her finger through her hair.

I realized in that brief event, that perhaps the crown meant little. The thorns didn’t scrape my head. But I felt the flowers and their petals smooch my head. I took off the crown, looking down at it like an actor looks at a costume. I have to wear it. But it isn’t how I wear that matters.

I looked back at Faitos who stood by my side. A bright red blush came across her face. She had the look of a friend appreciating what I have done.

Maybe this kingdom that I inherit doesn’t depend on my appearance. Maybe it is how I use beauty to create more. It’s not about me. It’s about them.

Echoing like thunder hitting the ocean, a knock struck the hatch into the manor. It was a single knock. Not that of an army neither a greeting one.

Both of us entered into the royal tunnel, a platform that was propelled by water. The hatch above us opened up, as the cool air of the above graced our face. I had forgotten to put the crown back on, for I was too busy holding Faitos in my arms.

As we exited, I saw an unfamiliar site. A century of Oligarch soldiers. Chain mails shirts and helmets with crests and feathered ornaments. Wearing skirts and trousers a bloody color. And in front of them, a giant man. Almost all of his body was protected by what seemed to be steel, a legendary material for us merfolk. All except his left arm, covered in scars, the cover of red hide.

In my inspection of him, I had failed to see that my family and subjects were among them and that Faitos ran to the giant man.

He was wearing a mask bearing a contemptible expression. It was too covered in scars of battle. The man bent one of his knees and came to my eye level. He took a bottle, I knew it was sea water. He poured it across his mask, a sign of kindness from outsiders. I too followed by taking a pouch of dirt and letting it fall on my lips.

He spoke in my native tongue.

“~ I am Oligarch Damocles. I seek your aid in this war. If you provide your armies, I will aid you in finding your father’s killer.~”

I stopped and took a breath. From my hand, I return the crown atop my head.

From that, and all nights after, I dreamed of eternal cruelty to my enemies. But I never knew how my dreams would crumble my kingdom into vile foam.