Oracle stepped through the portal.
The ground was no longer rocking back and forth, but quite stable under his hooves. Though it looked like metal, it was soft enough that it didn’t hurt to walk on. Archive and the others followed, and the portal vanished.
It was replaced with a huge window, several stories wide and tall, that gave them a spectacular view of the ships below. They looked so small down there, so weak. What had seemed like an unstoppable armada now seemed less so.
Hours passed. There was a meal prepared, apparently, a meal the Emperor himself had chosen. It was good, though the tastes were strange to Oracle and the alcohol even stranger. He never would’ve permitted his own child (if he’d had one) to drink at such an early age, but as Archive pointed out… he could no longer get drunk. He must’ve had twice as much rice-wine as the blue haired alien had, enough that she’d started to laugh and joke rather explicitly with one of the younger stallion’s in the Emperor’s guard.
“Ender, no more,” an older, green-haired male alien ordered, quietly escorting her from the hall. When she returned, she was no longer drunk, and had the look of a rather sullen child throwing a tantrum.
True to what Archive had promised, not much was asked of him. Oracle was given a seat at the same table that the Emperor’s children used, and mostly they kept to themselves. Many of them were old enough to have been his grandparents, though some were young enough to be his children. Well… to have been his children before he was made into a child.
“Is it true?” one of the eldest asked, on the other side of the table. It was a rather one-sided affair, since Archive was claiming only him and one other being as a child, an insectlike creature with a bright hard shell and with a strange language his powers didn’t help him comprehend. She stayed at the table with them for only a few minutes before sneaking off with a bat pony to parts unknown, leaving Oracle alone with over a dozen Chinese ponies, all of them male.
He had let his mind wander. “Sorry, could you repeat yourself?” he asked, voice low and respectful. “I think I had too much of this rice wine.”
Polite laughter. “Is it true,” the eldest said again. He was still in his prime for a pony, tall and strong, not gray like the Emperor. Yet there were subtle lines on his face, lines that told Oracle he was speaking to a pony of at least a century, if not more. “Is it true that you never grow old? Three-body creatures like yourself?”
“I…” He hesitated. “I am very young compared to my… mother.” He wasn’t speaking their language, yet that didn’t seem to matter. So long as he spoke with the intention of being understood, that was enough. It had worked every time he’d yet tried it. “But she is thousands of years old. She was alive when the old world ended, and yet you see the way she looks.”
Several of them turned to look up at the central table, where only the Emperor, his advisor, and Archive herself sat and conversed. Their food was all untouched, and all seemed tense. Oracle could only imagine what they might be discussing.
“You believe what you are told?” another of the Emperor’s sons asked. “There are stories for the people, and there are stories we tell ourselves, and there is the truth. Do you really think a pony could live so long?”
“I…” He nodded vigorously. “Even if all the stories about the immortals were other ponies, I’ve seen too much to say it isn’t true. Their magic… defies easy understanding. And it’s certainly true we age differently than other kinds of ponies.”
“You don’t seem very aged to me.”
He shrugged. “I’m forty-two. Not so wise as you. Archive hasn’t taken me with her on official business until now.” Everything he said was true, but that didn’t mean it wouldn’t imply many things that weren’t. Oracle let those implications rest as they were without feeling too guilty. Whatever reason Archive had for this meeting was obviously important.
“Hey.” Someone nudged at his back—the blue haired alien that her fellows had called “Ender.” “Oracle, your mother wants you to join them at the table. Apparently the Emperor wants you.”
He gulped, but rose and followed anyway. There was far less staring—up here, the dignitaries were matched by equal numbers of crew, and many of those were only ponies. Ponies with strange armor and technology, but still ponies.
“Oracle, thank you for joining us,” Archive muttered, levitating another cushion over for him and setting it on the ground beside her. Oracle took the offered seat, looking up at the Emperor across the table with an expression he hoped wouldn’t be too disrespectful. There was no throne here, though the Emperor’s own robes had a way of making him look imposing and powerful.
“You,” the advisor said. “Oracle is your name, yes?”
He nodded. “My newest one. Alicorns have names that connect to the aspects they embody.”
The advisor sounded tense, angry. More so than Emperor Zhang Xiao Long, who somehow kept a neutral expression despite all that had happened. “Your mother makes bold demands, Oracle. Demands that civilization itself should bend to her whims. She claims she can enforce what she requires. What do you think?”
“I think…” He took a slow breath, levitating a tiny bowl of rice wine over to himself and taking a sip to buy time. He tasted its strength, but of course felt no different even after swallowing it. Not his favorite part of becoming an Alicorn, that was for sure. “I think any answer you got from me would be suspect no matter what I said. Wouldn’t I defend my mother even if I didn’t agree with her?” He didn’t wait for the advisor’s response, but powered through, speaking over him a little. “You’re riding on a metal vessel floating as high as a pegasus can fly. Meaning no disrespect, but the likes of my mother are concerned with powers far greater than even a mighty nation like yours. I don’t know what she wants from you, but I know she plans on getting it.”
“Outrageous, what she asks,” the Emperor muttered. His voice was very quiet, but confident. When he spoke, even Archive turned her full attention on him, watching. “Sovereignty is absolute. The stewardship of heaven grants concern of all, along with the wisdom to govern.”
“Indeed,” Archive agreed. “And just as your sovereignty extends to all those in your mighty nation, over which you give instructions for their good while expecting your laws to be obeyed, so too do I with the rulers on my planet. The other immortals and I have agreed on certain laws, which all governments must follow. In every other respect, we will expect nothing. But to this standard, there will be obedience.”
“What standard?” Oracle asked, without thinking. “I’ve never heard of…”
She interrupted him, expression stern. “No, you haven’t. You’re too young to have a seat there, Oracle. Not until you’ve come into your own. The rules are simple: no seeking knowledge from the void or trafficking with it; no consuming the essence of any creature to fuel magic; no slaves.”
“We already keep all of your immortal edicts!” the advisor almost shouted, his voice livid. Many of the nobles at their nearby tables stopped to stare, conversations grinding to a halt. “Punishment for dark magic is very strict! The last time a sorcerer was caught, he was buried alive for his crimes! And slaves… that word barely has meaning in China! Every citizen is entitled to his own labor! Every steward the just reward of his responsibility. To even imply otherwise would be…”
Oracle didn’t find out what it would be. Archive raised her voice to match, though without the anger. “We had this conversation once already. Your citizens are fixed in life where they are born. For most of your citizens, this means as serfs. My children return from the past and are enslaved in the lowest caste of your society in almost every case. I will not tolerate this treatment any longer.”
“It is an unwise man who tells another what to do with his household,” the Emperor said, very quietly. “Such men rarely keep friends for long.”
“Indeed,” Archive agreed. “Why do you think I’m the one talking to you? There are over a dozen different immortals out there, and yet here I am acting as the villain over and over again. Nopony else wants to get their hooves dirty with such unpleasant activities. They know I’ll make myself a tyrant if it means the survival of our race. It is our survival, Emperor.” She levitated something up onto the table, setting it down in front of him. Oracle recognized it well—the memory crystal. The same one that had captured his visions only two days ago.
“You already know the face of our enemy. Your fleets have done an outstanding job keeping your ocean safe. Do you want to know what he’s planning?”
The Emperor shook his head. “I already know. It won’t convince me. What you request threatens the stability of civilization. I won’t be remembered as the last Emperor of the Long family.”
“Blame the change on me,” she said, unflinching. “I’m already a tyrant.”
“And have every noble-blooded citizen clamoring for war!” the advisor said, shaking his head visibly. “This course is not wise, Emperor. We should leave. We have nothing further to learn from this meeting.”
“One thing further.” Archive turned to Oracle. “Son, when will the Emperor die? Be as specific as possible.”
The Emperor and his aid stared at him, utter shock on their faces. Even the Emperor’s poised calm had been shattered.
Oracle took a deep breath, forcing himself to relax. “Archive… without my construct to aid the vision, my predictions would be… imprecise. Probabilistic. Not like the vision I showed you.”
She gestured for him to go on anyway. A flash of magic later, and Oracle saw. It wasn’t a kind of magic he had known back when he’d been mortal. Visiting the Supernal had given him new insight, insight he could use to perform a weaker version of his vision spell. Not that the visions would cost years anymore—those were no longer in limited supply.
“Three years, eleven days,” Oracle answered. He could see a palatial bedroom, surrounded by doctors and servants and family. “Peacefully, in his sleep. He’s surrounded by the ponies he loves. Looks like… some sort of undiagnosed heart condition. Wait…” Even as he spoke, the vision shifted. Gone were the servants, gone were the loved ones, and the palace. Now he was somewhere dark, with only a single stern doctor. “Four years, seven months, one day. Less pleasant this time.”
“Fanciful,” the advisor said, though he glanced sidelong at the Emperor’s chest in obvious concern as he said it. “But any fool can tell stories. What of it, anyway? All ponies die.”
“Not quite.” Archive levitated the memory crystal away, replacing it with a tiny white vial filled with clear liquid. It had a foil seal over the end, but that was all. “Free me from the burden of violence, Emperor, and I will pay you with the only gift your wealth and power couldn’t buy you.” She touched it down on the table in front of him. Crystal rang out as she did so, and brief light passed through the liquid within. Like little fireflies were living inside.
The Emperor nudged the bottle with one hoof. “Some fine liquor? Or…” His ears rose to angry points. “A drug, perhaps? You think I would be interested in a drug? What is this?”
Archive smiled faintly. “I realize the change to your nation might take many years. To make it without instability and rebellion might require decades of careful planning. Exactly two centuries of life are contained within that bottle. Your own second dynasty.”
“Subservient to you,” the advisor scoffed, glaring. Yet the Emperor had not taken his eyes off that bottle. His expression was hungry. Oracle could relate to that. “A puppet of your growing empire. You’ve taken uncivilized, barbarian countries for yourself Idyia, I do not think you will have such luck in the real world.”
“In only three ways,” Archive insisted. “You wouldn’t have to swear loyalty, obedience, or make any changes to your religion. Only keep sorcerery illegal and stop enslaving my children. I ask nothing else of you. Any future agreements we made would be willing diplomacy between nations… only one of which I really rule. The New American Union will not expand beyond its borders no matter how this meeting ends. Already it grows unwieldy and difficult to manage… No, if we end on unfriendly terms, it would mean…” She shook her head, levitating the little bottle back over to her side of the table. “I’ll make this same offer to your son, four years from now.”
The Emperor looked away from the table, out the window at the setting sun. His tired eyes seemed barely able to focus on what was outside. “Is there more of this… tea of heaven?” He gestured with one hoof. “The secret of your immortality? This is what the eternal beings hoard from mortals, to maintain their rule forever?”
Archive shook her head. “No. The secret of my immortality was being changed into a symbol. It’s not a trade I necessarily recommend, since it means giving up a great deal of what mortals call free will. Even so…” She shook her head. “A friend of mine invented this. To my knowledge, none of the immortals use this. Its ingredients don’t exist, so it’s… rather difficult to make. But if you’re asking if I could get more… let me just say that the other immortals find value in those who serve our common cause.”
Oracle shivered, staring at the bottle. Not that he should’ve been surprised. Archive had already said she could make him young again, if she wanted. Was it that surprising that she would use that same power (or apparently, same invention) as a political tool?
The Emperor nodded. “My wife waits in the imperial palace. She is… nearly as old as I am. Earth ponies live the longest lives, as I’m sure you know. She is a bat, so lacked the strength to travel out with us. If I may share your gift with her, then we will have our understanding.”
Archive nodded with respect. “That sounds perfectly agreeable to me, Emperor Zhang Xiao Long.”
* * *
A few hours later, and all their guests save a few diplomats had gone. Great awe had gone up among the assembled visitors when the Emperor’s youth had returned. Yet for all the joy he had apparently felt, Oracle had noticed one thing most of all:
Archive was a politician. In gifting the Emperor youth, in providing him with power he couldn’t refuse, she had served to cement her own position and those of mortal rulers. The Emperor had first mocked her, then been her guest, and finally accepted her gifts in exchange for promises of his own. How many stories would be told of the Emperor whose wisdom had been so great that he was taken into heaven to be given the favor of the gods?
He sat in front of the widow as a cleaning crew packed up plates and tables. The Hyperion’s crew left him alone. Archive herself had gone down with the diplomatic party to the celebration feast aboard the flagship far below.
At least she didn’t make me come a second time.
“So, what did you think of your first trip?” It was Ender—no longer dressed in armor, only a simple uniform in white cloth. She was still freakishly tall, though not nearly as much as many of the others. He suspected that she wasn’t fully grown, despite her apparent position on the ship. “Learned a lot, I hope.”
“I learn that the gods love using ponies,” he answered, after a long time. “I’m not going to be like her when I grow up.”
“You could do worse.” Ender pulled up a chair, taking a seat beside him. Sitting down she was still taller than he was standing, but the difference was less dramatic. “How many lives do you think just got saved? One hundred thousand? Two? I’d ask Athena, but… thank God, she’s gone too.” She reached down, removing a metal flask from around her waist, and taking a long pull. “I’d offer you one, but… it’d be wasted on you.”
“You aliens must age as strange as Alicorns,” he muttered.
“Not aliens,” she corrected, replacing the flask. “Humans. You’re the aliens. And no, we don’t. We normally only last about a century… but go figure, the people around Archive tend to die a lot. They ran out of backup bodies for me and had to give me one they were only half finished growing.” She touched one hand to her chest, as though that meant something. “Flat as a board, skinny as a rail, and not even the bat will sleep with me anymore.”
“I have… no idea what you’re talking about.”
“No,” she sighed, leaning back into her seat. “You’ll only have to go through it this once, if it makes you feel better. When Alicorns die, you come back exactly as you were. We normally keep a copy or two ready at just the right age, in case something happens, but…” She sighed. “I’m the best tactician there is. Archive couldn’t leave me to ripen in a freezer when there might’ve been another front in her world war.”
“So what, you go back in the… freezer?” he asked, tone doubtful. “Come back out and you’re grown up?”
“Nope.” She tapped him on the shoulder with one hand, grinning. “Still got to invade your country, and there’s some trouble in the Ukraine, and…” She shook her head. “That’s the trouble with immortals, Oracle. There aren’t very many. Each one is connected to all the others. Every one of them dripping with ambition.”
“Not me,” he grunted. “I just wanted to learn. Now I have more tools, more magic. Learning is all I want.”
“You say that now.” Ender rose to her feet, tossing the chair backward where it landed with a clatter on the floor behind her. “Just wait until you see more of the world. Five hundred EC says you have your own agenda within the century.” She stuck out a hand, grinning.
Oracle took her hand with his hoof. “Dea—“ He froze, his eyes widening as magic washed over him. He saw himself standing on this very bridge, with a now grown-up version of the human beside him. Ender was looking just as smug as she took his money. “Dammit.” He slumped, lowering his head. “At least I have plenty of time to earn it.”
Ender laughed.