《Alien Bet & the Invasion of the Lake Puppets [Sci-Fi Psychological Thriller]》 Ch. 1 - The Lake Fabius had arrived at the promised time, punctual as always. He crouched next to Joey, making his massive body look smaller. Joey imagined this was what a bear about to pounce on prey looked like. ¡°Are you sure they are in there, Joey?¡± whispered Fabius. ¡°Yes, commissioner.¡± ¡°How sure?¡± ¡°Pretty sure.¡± Joey felt the commissioner examining him with a long, hard look. Joey knew he wasn¡¯t infallible, but he was sure about this. Even though he wasn¡¯t the most methodic or organized constable out there, he had done his homework on this one. He had exhaustively staked this place and had seen known members of the dark scientists unloading crates to the warehouse earlier in the evening. Besides, he had a feeling about this place. His mom had always said he had an eye for people and a nose for trouble. He knew that the commissioner agreed with at least the second part of that statement. But even so, there was a lot at stake here. Joey betrayed his nervousness by peeking over the battered and crumbling brick wall. ¡°You know that if I use this warrant,¡± tested Commissioner Fabius while unrolling an official-looking scroll, ¡°and there is nothing there¡­.¡± ¡°Thousands of hours of my colleagues'' work will go down the drain,¡± Joey concluded. He regretted it as soon as he¡¯d done it. The commissioner didn¡¯t take interruptions well, so he gave him the look. It was bone-chilling and gut-wrenching. Joey had never understood how the man did it. ¡°Trust me, chief. I know that there is a dark sciences lab there.¡± The commissioner sighed. ¡°Let us hope you¡¯re right. Otherwise, I would have to explain a lot to the mayor. Have I told you that you¡¯re the constable giving me the most paperwork to fill?¡± ¡°Yes, sir. Several times. But you¡¯ve also told me that I¡¯m worth the trouble.¡± The commissioner harrumphed. ¡°Don¡¯t get cheeky. Pride doesn¡¯t look good on a constable.¡± ¡°Yes, sir.¡± The commissioner held up his bioluminescent lamp. He closed and opened the lamp''s blinds, signaling the tactical team. The task force signaled back. Like a band of hyenas closing in on prey, the officers wearing bulletproof vests took their positions around the warehouse. Four of them used a battering ram to bring the front door down. As they stormed the building, panicked men in lab coats screamed in surprise and tried to escape. But it was no use. The officers had positioned themselves strategically on the exits, like a silent constrictor that envelops its prey. There was nothing left for them to do but choke. Even though there were a few punches and swings of the staff, no shots were fired. The element of surprise had been enough. The raid was over before it even began. ¡°Clear!¡± signaled the raid team. After getting confirmation that all had gone well, the commissioner came inside, followed by Joey. Both sighed in relief. It was indeed a dark sciences lab. The ungodly stench of petroleum was unmistakable. Bits of coal residue darkened the ground and crackled under their feet. To the left were pens of unlicensed cows mooing and displaying signs of stress at the shouting and appearance of unknown visitors. ¡°I am sorry I doubted you, Joey. You were right. They were running a covert operation here. There are residues of coal on the ground. The cows, too. It¡¯s a huge bust. I think we might make the first page tomorrow.¡± The commissioner¡¯s voice dripped with enthusiasm. ¡°Chief,¡± Sergeant Morris gestured urgently from across the room, ¡°You gotta see this.¡± The commissioner and Joey exchanged looks and headed toward the door where the sergeant stood. Inside a side office was a geological survey map hanging on the wall with several pins on it. Diagrams and blueprints for petroleum extractors lay scattered on the table. ¡°What do you make of this, Joey?¡± ¡°I think they were trying to put together a petroleum extraction operation. Maybe what we found at the entrance,¡± said Joey, pointing to the big warehouse, ¡°was just to amass funds for the next step in their operation. That, or they would put together a proposal to sell to an investor in the black market. In any case, this was their endgame.¡± The commissioner glanced at the sergeant. Finding he had left to meet with the rest of the team, he approached Joey and whispered softly, " Are there any signs of him?¡± Joey shook his head. ¡°Signs, yes. Evidence, no.¡± The commissioner sighed, disappointed. ¡°You troglodytes!¡± Joey and Fabius looked up toward a commotion outside. One of the captives screamed and squirmed as the raid team dragged him out of the warehouse. ¡°You should be the ones in chains! You scoff at progress! Technology must advance, no matter the cost! There is no way on earth that what those fanatics from the Science Academy say is true.¡± The commissioner calmly walked toward the man like a bear nearing a mouse. Joey could almost hear the impact of the commissioner¡¯s petrifying gaze hitting the man. The dark scientist¡¯s indignation and shouts stopped instantly. Fabius was a beast of a man. He was two meters tall. His well-built, hairy, solid arms and thick beard made one think of a bear standing on his hind legs, ready to strike. His voice was particularly strong, carrying across any space without being overly loud. ¡°I always find it amusing how you mask immoral profit under the guise of progress. Now, here is what is going to happen. I¡¯ll personally spend several pleasant hours with you in the interrogation room. By the time we finish our little chat, you¡¯ll have told me where the black market is and who runs these dark science labs in my city.¡± The man paled, his whole body trembling. Joey couldn¡¯t figure out whether the dark scientist was scared about the certainty of having to speak again to the commissioner face-to-face or of being questioned about who controlled the criminal underworld of New Lisbon. ¡°Take him away.¡± The commissioner turned to the rest of his team more benignly. ¡°Good job, gentlemen. You have earned yourself a good night¡¯s sleep. Go back home and take today and tomorrow day off. Rest. That¡¯s an order. Worry about the reports once you¡¯re back in the office.¡± As the commissioner turned to ignore the command he had given to his team, he noticed Joey following him. ¡°I suppose there¡¯s no point in telling you not to follow me.¡± ¡°Sir, I won¡¯t be able to enjoy my vacation if I don¡¯t finish this.¡± ¡°You¡¯re the most stubborn man in the whole force. Did you know that?¡± ¡°The second most stubborn, sir.¡± The commissioner let out a sound between a grunt and a chuckle at the jab from Joey, and both took off toward the precinct. A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation. * The locomotive ran on the polished tracks that blemished the virgin green woods. The orange twilight of dawn prophesied the coming of sunlight. Light danced through the leaves and bounced off the golden ¡®G¡¯ letters that marked the side of the blue vehicle. Even though personal locomotives weren¡¯t nearly as big as trains, the heavy clickety-clack echoed in the woods was enough to disturb sleeping squirrels and wake up slumbering woodpeckers. Inside the cab sat two men. One of them, more elegantly dressed, glanced at his silver pocket. He didn¡¯t register the time. It was a gesture done not out of practicality but out of the necessity to exhaust some of the nervous energy that had been building up in him since his foreman had woken him in the middle of the night. ¡°Are you sure that¡¯s what you saw, Red? This isn¡¯t another of the town kids¡¯ silly pranks, right?¡± ¡°Good Lord, how could they pull off a prank on this scale?¡± protested Red. ¡°When did I ever lie to you, Mr. Geoffrey? I saw what I saw.¡± ¡°When, indeed?¡± Geoffrey trusted Red, which only aggravated his anxiety. He had known the stockman for years. ¡°I just don¡¯t understand how something like you described is possible.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t have the faintest idea either, Mr. Geoffrey. All I know is that when I came to the pen to take the herd out to graze, I found what I told you.¡± ¡°We¡¯ll know it soon enough. We¡¯re almost there.¡± Geoffrey was glad he¡¯d gone through the trouble and expense of setting these tracks. Having a personal locomotive was something beyond the means of the general populace. In addition to buying the vehicle, getting insurance, and paying taxes and fuel, one also had to invest in the tracks. Not to speak of the never-ending bureaucracy of getting rails crossing other people¡¯s properties and having to deal with those blood-sucking railtors. Geoffrey had spent almost as much money on his Mercury 3000 as he had in paying for the railroad circuit connecting his estates to town. Geoffrey studied his foreman from his cushioned passenger seat. Red, with sunken eyes, nervously fidgeted with his fingers. What he had seen earlier in the morning visibly haunted him. ¡°How is the herd doing, Red?¡± asked Geoffrey to get both their minds off their worries. Rescued from his dark thoughts, Red promptly answered, pride in his animals showing in his recovered, confident tone. ¡°All plump and healthy, sir. We have several sea cows in heat. We should have some new calves in the coming month.¡± ¡°How many, would you say?¡± ¡°I am expecting at least thirty, sir.¡± ¡°Thirty? It¡¯s a good year. Well done, Red. How about production?¡± ¡°Sir, you know I just take care of the animals. You must go to your bone carvers, tanners, and those cursed oil makers to learn about your crowns.¡± Geoffrey moved uncomfortably in his seat. Nobody had talked to him in this tone in years. Nevertheless, he chose to overlook the short-tempered outburst of the old man. No one knew sea cows like Red; he hadn¡¯t lost any on his watch. The herder had served him well over the years and had earned some slack. His mood was understandable if what he related to him earlier was true. The boss and employee chatted about the livestock, and soon, they had reached their destination. A good conversation sped a trip faster than the fastest of engines. As the brakes engaged, the locomotive screeched until it came to a stop. As Geoffrey left the solidness of the cabin¡¯s custom-made wooden floors and stepped onto muddy, mushy soil, he decided that his choice of wear for the day was spot-on. He had brought along his boots made from the hide of one of his prized sea bulls. The waterproof material allowed him to confidently walk around on the soft, damp ground. Smelling the air, Geoffrey realized that something seemed out of place. He took another deep breath. ¡°Aye. That¡¯s the first thing I noticed, too. No smell.¡± Due to the lake¡¯s high salinity, it was natural to smell the edgy saltiness of the air as one neared it. But the smell wasn¡¯t as strong as what Geoffrey was used to. Sweat started to run down Geoffrey¡¯s forehead. ¡°Lead the way, Red.¡± Red grunted in agreement and started marching toward the pens. Both men were quite familiar with the terrain of these woods. They had worked here for many years and knew the estate like the back of their hands. They promptly found the shore¡ªsooner than Geoffrey expected. ¡°Impossible,¡± exclaimed Geoffrey. He stared, puzzled, at his legs. He was knee-deep in the lake''s clean, transparent water. This should have been dry ground. The shore should have been much further ahead. Looking around, he saw trees emerging from the water. He wasn¡¯t lost. The lake had grown larger. Red took his canteen, dumped it, and refilled it with water from the lake. He handed it to Geoffrey. ¡°Taste the water, sir.¡± Geoffrey momentarily hesitated. New Lisbonites always drank water from the river Aurum, never from the lake. He glanced at Red, who nodded toward the canteen, urging him to drink from it. As Geoffrey brought the canteen up to his mouth, off the corner of his eye, he found Red studying him with a wide grin. Where had all of Red¡¯s anxiousness gone? Why did he look so happy now? Something in Geoffrey¡¯s mind screamed alarm, but he still sipped the water, tasted it, and swallowed it. ¡°It¡¯s fresh. No salt.¡± Geoffrey was left with a funny taste in his mouth. ¡°Not as salty as it usually is, at least.¡± ¡°Red, how is this possible? This is the largest brackish water lake on the planet. What force could desalinate the whole lake?¡± It was unthinkable. The taste in Geoffrey¡¯s mouth wasn¡¯t getting any better. A headache was brewing in his mind. Strange... He rarely suffered from headaches. Was it the stress of the situation? Was he coming down with a cold? The cool air before dawn was quite chilly. He felt the urge to rinse the strange taste out of his mouth. Unfortunately, the canteen he¡¯d brought was filled with water from the lake. The headache receded. Concerns became smaller. Worrisome thoughts were put to the side and minimized until one concern was expanded and broadened. One thought filled Geoffrey¡¯s mind until there was no space left for anything else. His possessions. ¡°What about the herd? Are all the animals accounted for?¡± desperately asked Geoffrey. ¡°Yes, sir. We built the pens with over enough margin to deal with a rise like this. Even though the shore has advanced this much, the water level only rose by a meter or so.¡± ¡°I want to see the herd.¡± Red nodded. Walking in the flooded area with all the floating branches and leaves and the trees emerging from the water felt surreal to Geoffrey. He had played on the shores of the lake in his childhood. He often came down to Joey¡¯s dad''s estate to play with him there. He couldn¡¯t remember seeing a flood like this in his whole life. He had read past flooding records, but there had never been like this. They reached the estate¡¯s pier after walking for a few more moments. They were a series of wooden planks placed over air pockets made from sea cows¡¯ goldbeater¡¯s skin to give them buoyancy. They were all tied to poles hammered deep into the lake bed with chains with generous safety margins. Even with the tides and waves of the lake, the pier remained intact. It was much more expensive to build it like this, but Geoffrey had thought that the investment was worth it in case of any eventuality. Today, he was proven right. Geoffrey managed to climb on the first wooden board and helped old Red climb it. From there, they headed deeper and deeper into the lake until they came across a series of buoys that marked the boundaries of the paddock. Blocks of hollow wood framed the perimeter where his herd spent the night. Down to the lake bed were nets strong enough to ensure nothing could go in or out. His manatees happily came to the surface to breathe, placidly swimming, waiting for old Red to take them grazing. Geoffrey observed them briefly and found nothing odd about their behavior. ¡°They seem OK,¡± said Geoffrey, relieved. ¡°They are alright. I checked them all before I came to meet you.¡± ¡°Will the change in water conditions mean any trouble for the herd?¡± ¡°Manatees do just as well in freshwater as in brackish water, sir. Many species in the lake do. They¡¯ll be fine. I can¡¯t say the same thing about the shepherd pod or the seagrass prairies, but they should hold, at least for a few days.¡± ¡°What about our facilities? Is there any flooding?¡± Geoffrey tried to squint and see through the morning mist. But the light wasn¡¯t very bright yet, and he couldn¡¯t see the buildings of his estate from here. ¡°They¡¯re all on high ground. We¡¯re safe.¡± Geoffrey nodded. This was another good investment he had made. He imagined that Wilson and Willis would be biting their nails off with regret. His nearest neighbors didn¡¯t want to waste any money on preventing something as rare as lake floods, which happened once a century. As far as Geoffrey knew, all but one of the other producers kept their facilities as close to the lake as possible. ¡°What baffles me is that it didn¡¯t even rain last night.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t know what to say, sir. By Ambyssus¡¯ eye, I¡¯ve never seen anything like this in all my life.¡± Geoffrey frowned at the new word. He didn¡¯t recall hearing the expression before. Red was an old timer. Perhaps it was something people of his generation said. There was a certain comfortable ring to it. Something soothing and natural, as if the expression evoked thoughts of an old acquaintance one hadn¡¯t met in decades. ¡°I want the safety margin of all our pens doubled. Talk to Wilkinson. Since we don¡¯t know how this change in the lake will affect the sea cow¡¯s pastures, I want to ensure we have enough forage to last us for a year.¡± ¡°Sir, the animals can spend seven months without any food. Rest easy. They are in no immediate danger.¡± Geoffrey frowned at Red''s easy tone. ¡°That¡¯s all fine, but I don¡¯t want production or reproduction to suffer because they feel food is scarce. Get to it, Red.¡± ¡°Aye, boss.¡± ¡°I must go back to town to ascertain the situation.¡± Now that the worries about his possessions had been quenched, Geoffrey¡¯s good nature and concern for his fellow men were allowed to resurface. ¡°I doubt other cattle owners were as well prepared as we were. Perhaps we can lend some of our facilities to them. Will you be alright?¡± ¡°Rest assured, sir. I¡¯ll be fine.¡± Geoffrey turned and made his way to the locomotive. ¡°By Ambyssus¡¯ eye,¡± thought Geoffrey. ¡°What a day!¡± Geoffrey didn¡¯t realize how strange it was for such an unfamiliar word to become so familiar to him so quickly, nor the suddenness with which the driving force of his thoughts was changing direction. He felt no weird taste in his mouth anymore, only sweetness. Ch. 2 - Switch The dawn became increasingly brighter, hurting Geoffrey¡¯s eyes. Since he''d gone to the lake, he¡¯d been suffering from a persistent migraine. As his locomotive neared one of the town¡¯s entry terminals, he searched the compartment conveniently built into his seat¡¯s arms, carefully selected the red flag from the bunch, and waved it out of the window while blowing the train whistle. The switchmen crew noted the intended destination and swiftly switched the railways so Geoffrey¡¯s locomotive could enter the red circuit. Even through his headache, Geoffrey still took the time to admire the work of these men. The crew worked around the clock, under scorching heat, pouring rain, or cold. It was a deceptively complex and dangerous job. One moment of distraction when crossing a line could cost their passengers hours of their time, or worse, it could make a switchman lose their life. When one of the members of the switchmen¡¯s union knocked at Geoffrey¡¯s office to ask for his support, he hadn¡¯t hesitated to give them a donation and sign their petition to add bridges and tunnels to help them move around terminals without getting themselves into danger. Even though the mayor had approved the initiative, Geoffrey hadn¡¯t seen signs of the construction work starting. This terminal was used mainly by ranchers and workers from the lakeside and was one of the busiest in New Lisbon. Most lines were communal, and only a few private ones, such as Geoffrey¡¯s, made it out here. Geoffrey checked his pocket watch again. It was six-thirty in the morning. Although some traffic could be seen, the tracks were relatively empty. The switchmen adjusted the railway, and Geoffrey¡¯s locomotive joined local traffic. Different rail circuits zigzagged through town, sometimes over a bridge or under a tunnel. Twenty such circuits were in operation, and each took about one hour to complete. The red circuit cut across the city''s center and passed by the city hall. Geoffrey waited for a curve that could afford him a good look at the other vehicles behind him. Even if it wasn¡¯t a day as monumental as this, Geoffrey would have still looked over his shoulder. It was one of many survival skills he had to develop when he was a street urchin. Having eyes behind one¡¯s back is essential when living on the streets. He didn¡¯t see any of his fellow ranchers or their personal locomotives. His fellow sea cow oil producers still hadn¡¯t heard about what had happened at the lake. They would undoubtedly head to the mayor¡¯s office as soon as they found out. He should go, too. Geoffrey¡¯s headache receded, and his thoughts gained their usual nimbleness. He couldn¡¯t fathom how devastating the flood would be on the local economy. Most of the world¡¯s fuel came from the sirenian oil harvested in the lake, and demand constantly chased after supply. If production halted because of the flood, it could ruin the city. Worse, it could collapse the world economy. Transportation would be one of the things that would be compromised. Lighting and heating too would be affected. The least he could do was offer his fellow businessmen a helping hand and be neighborly. He was one of the ranchers closest to the city. He was also one of the few who had gone through the trouble of setting rails between the city and his ranch. He would most likely be the first to get to the mayor¡¯s office and sound the warning. Yes. That was the right thing to do. Geoffrey picked another flag. It had a chess-patterned field. The switchman serving the parking lot activated the switch rail that led the locomotive to a railroad parking yard. The switchman quickly reset the switch so other trams or trains could go past unimpeded. As Geoffrey climbed out of the locomotive cab, he looked around in confusion. By Ambyssus¡¯ ambition, why was he in the city market? How had he gotten here? It was across town from the city hall. Hadn¡¯t he taken the red circuit? Geoffrey looked up at the signs in the yard and saw blue plaques all over. Strange. This was the blue line. Dazed, Geoffrey tried to gather his thoughts. He was sure he hadn¡¯t picked this circuit; nevertheless, he stood here. Could it have been a mistake by the switchmen crew? It would take him more than an hour to take his locomotive from here to the city hall. Should he get a taxi? Should he walk? Gently, smoothly, he felt his attention persuasively drawn to the market across the road. The taste in his mouth became sweeter, and a numbing sensation flashed across his temples. His thoughts were gently nudged toward an idea. It was Geoffrey¡¯s idea, of course, but he had dismissed it as soon as it had formed. It was now brought back to the fore of his mind. Although it was quite lucrative, it wasn¡¯t pretty or kind. Geoffrey stood indecisively, trying to decide on his course of action. He stood at a proverbial switch terminal. If he did decide to go down this path, he wouldn¡¯t be doing anything unlawful. His plan was a legitimate way of expanding his business. There might be some damage to his competitors, but wasn¡¯t the business world one of war and struggle? Had his competitors gotten the chance to gain this opportunity, they wouldn¡¯t hesitate to seize it. Flashes of painful memories as a street urchin came to his mind. The pangs of hunger. The sweaty grime that stuck to his skin and the hair lice that made him itchy. The cold nights. The threats of other street gangs who wanted him out of their lucrative turf. Then there was a flood of pleasant, marvelous memories of success¡ªhis first business, the elation of lucrative endeavors, the comforts of wealth, the esteem and respect of others. Yes, yes. Perhaps there was an honest opportunity to be gained here. And if he was indeed correct, time was of the essence. Finally convinced, Geoffrey marched toward the market. Balaena Market was renowned throughout the world. Even from his relatively low vantage point, Geoffrey could see cranes unloading containers from vessels coasted on Port Aurum, Zeppelins taking off from the Aquilae Airport, and train whistles signaling the arrival or departure of cargo. Wagons bringing merchandise in and out of the market to the three transportation hubs reminded Geoffrey of a tireless ant colony. Geoffrey couldn¡¯t help but reminisce about his professional experience here as he reached the market entrance. He had once bought unappreciated wares from an ignorant merchant in one stall, only to sell to an appreciative salesman next, making a quick buck. Before that, he had baked apple pies and sold them to the workers and salesmen entering and leaving the market. Without much thought, he used the entrance nearest to the parking yard. It led into the North Market District, home to the husbandry trading section. There were streets with stores set up in an organized fashion. Stalls of all different colors and sizes made the environment festive and eye-catching. As Geoffrey entered the sirenian section, it smelled of sea cow, grass, leather, and salt. Screams of merchants competed for his attention. ¡°Get yourself some of our balatees¡¯ springs. Exceptional yield. Good for any industry!¡± If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. ¡°Steller¡¯s Sea Cow stellar leather! We kill none of the animals following the Science Academy¡¯s environmental regulations. All animals died from old age!¡± ¡°Fine sir, why don¡¯t you take this carved chess set of dugong bones?¡± ¡°Good morning, chief; those boots have seen better days. Why not try one of our manatee leather boots?¡± Geoffrey ignored all the sales pitches thrown at him. From afar, he glanced at one of the booths hawking wares made of sea cow materials. The tablet read in elaborate golden letters, ¡°Geoffrey Inc.¡± After assessing the effort of his hired sales staff attempting to sell some of the products manufactured at his estate, satisfied, Geoffrey made his way to the oil auction house. The oil market would only open at 7:30. A line of people waited at the door. Geoffrey made his way around the back of the building and entered through the door destined for producers. The security guard recognized him and invited him in. Inside the building, Geoffrey addressed the receptionist. ¡°Good morning, Martha. I would like to see Master Gulliver, please.¡± ¡°Certainly, Mr. Geoffrey. I¡¯ll call him immediately.¡± The receptionist disappeared and came back with an old clerk in tow. Master Gulliver wore slacks a vest made of dugong hide, and a shapeless and flat nose. The hunch in his back and the glasses told the story of an office worker who had spent many nights reviewing paperwork at a desk. He looked at his long-time supplier, lowering his gaze so that his spectacles wouldn¡¯t hinder his line of sight. ¡°Jeff. Long time no see.¡± ¡°Master Gulliver, it is a pleasure. It''s always a pleasure. Thank you for seeing me on such short notice.¡± ¡°What can I do for you today?¡± Master Gulliver checked his wristwatch. ¡°The next auction will begin soon.¡± ¡°How many of my estates¡¯ casks do you have stored?¡± ¡°Well, I don¡¯t know the precise number.¡± After some thought, he added. ¡°About two hundred?¡± It was better than he was expecting. ¡°Do you think you can hold on to them for the moment? Please don¡¯t release them to the market.¡± ¡°That shouldn¡¯t be a problem,¡± said Master Gulliver, with a puzzled look on his face. ¡°Any specific reason?¡± ¡°None I have the time to discuss right now. We can talk later. I¡¯m sorry, I must go; I don¡¯t want to miss the market opening. We¡¯ll catch up sometime soon. Yes, soon.¡± Geoffrey left and circled the building to find a place in line near the main entrance. By Ambyssus¡¯ ambition, it was time to become rich. * Joey was almost done with his reports. He was obsessed with closure, a trait he¡¯d inherited from his father. He had spent the last months of his life working on this case. It was time to wrap it up, turn it in, go home, and spend time with his family. Looking out the window, Joey realized it was morning. His wife and daughter would wake up soon. If he hurried, he might still be able to eat breakfast with them. On his desk was a picture of him as a child, sitting on his father¡¯s lap. Looking at the picture was a two-edged sword. It motivated him to get his work done but also reminded him of what he disliked the most about his job: It was hard to maintain a good balance between work and family. His father had always been good with that. No matter how busy he was, he always had found the time to let little Joey run into his office in the middle of a meeting with politicians, businessmen, and merchants and let him tell everyone about the big disgusting bug he had captured in the backyard or to complain about his playmates. The commissioner stomped through the bullpen. Like a star that drew debris, asteroids, and planets into its orbit, the man drew respectful looks and countenance from everyone nearby. His eyes rested on Joey, and the subtlest nod invited him to discreetly follow. Joey had seen the commissioner with this look on his face before. There was something big going on. Joey rose from his seat, stretched, trying to dissolve the knots of tension from spending hours typing away at his desk, and discreetly followed the commissioner. Entering the office, the commissioner readily closed the door and the shutters. ¡°I think you and I will regret not going home to sleep when we had the chance.¡± ¡°What do you mean, chief? Did you have a breakthrough? Any clues about the black merchant?¡± ¡°No, no. None of that. It¡¯s something entirely different. Listen. Mr. Wilkinson, from one of the Estates in the lake, did me the favor of coming here to let me know that something big has happened.¡± ¡°Are there pirates active again?¡± ¡°No, Joey. There¡¯s been a flood.¡± ¡°A flood?¡± ¡°Yes, and it seems it has changed the lake''s water.¡± Joey gulped. ¡°We don¡¯t know what we¡¯re looking at here, Joey. We must be ready to deal with riots, looting, and protests. The Whale Oil War began with something as simple as this. If this impacts oil production, we might have the whole world at our throats. ¡° Joey took a moment to register the seriousness and the dimension of this. ¡°Boss, what do you want me to do?¡± ¡°I want you to run point on this. It is of paramount importance that we keep this quiet for as long as possible. We want to avoid panic. Let¡¯s first try to ascertain what has happened to the lake and think of solutions. Only then do we want the populace to know about what¡¯s going on. OK? ¡°Yes, sir.¡± ¡°Now, go home, get cleaned up, and meet me at the mayor¡¯s office. You know the kind of pressure I¡¯ve been under, Joey. We can¡¯t afford to fail here. I¡¯m counting on you.¡± This seldom-said compliment meant a lot to Joey. After his late father had passed, the commissioner became Joey¡¯s rock. ¡°Thank you, sir.¡± The commissioner threw him a key. ¡°Take the rhino.¡± ¡°Sir?¡± ¡°Go!¡± Following Fabius¡¯ advice, Joey forced himself to step out of the office calmly. As he crossed the bullpen, all he could think of was how he would explain to his wife that he wasn¡¯t getting a holiday. She was going to be so mad. As Joey left the precinct, he squinted at the sudden change in brightness. The dark bags under Joey¡¯s eyes probably made him look like a panda. He should have gone home when the commissioner had told him to. Joey took the rhino¡¯s keychain out of his pocket. The police¡¯s tactical tank was a powerful machine that was only taken out in extreme cases. Unlike the personal locomotives that required railroads, the rhino locotanks moved on caterpillar tracks and could be used in any terrain. He had seldom driven one except when time could make or break the operation. Joey approached the massive, armored beast of a machine, its iron-plated exterior gleaming dully under the first rays of morning. He climbed up the side ladder and swung himself into the cockpit, the familiar scent of oil and metal filling his nostrils. He settled into the well-worn leather seat and mentally reviewed his training on how to drive it. The control panel in front of him was a bewildering array of levers, switches, and dials. Joey inserted the keys into the ignition and turned them with a satisfying click. The Rhino roared to life, its engine growling deeply, sending vibrations through his entire body. Gripping the steering handles, Joey carefully maneuvered the Rhino out of its parking spot. The treads clanked, and the sheer weight of the machine made the ground tremble. With a practiced hand, he navigated the metallic juggernaut, deftly avoiding the few stray horses and pedestrians who happened to be in its path. Riding a locotank was significantly different from riding a locomotive. With the latter, one just had to worry about speeding up, pulling the breaks, blowing the whistle, and waving flags to switchmen. With the tank, however, one had also to steer. It was like having a horse and a train in one vehicle. As Joey steered the metallic juggernaut and barely out of the way of passing horses or people, he finally made it to his home, where he parked it clumsily. He rushed into the building without forgetting to take the keys from the ignition. The last thing he needed was for some kid to railjack him. Despite the rhino¡¯s many virtues, the vehicle was exceedingly noisy. His wife was already at the door, drawn by the noise. She seemed refreshed and energized after a sound night of sleep. ¡°Joey, what¡¯s that thing?¡± ¡°Honey, something big has happened.¡± ¡°What¡¯s wrong, Joey? You look like you¡¯ve seen a ghost!¡± ¡°There¡¯s no time to explain!¡± Joey ran past her and dashed toward the bathroom. ¡°Joey, you¡¯re scaring me. Are you OK? What¡¯s going on?¡± ¡°I need to get to the city hall. Please get my official uniform ready. Also, please bring something to eat and drink.¡± Joey saw his wife go to the wardrobe, take the official uniform, and lay it neatly over the bed. She then disappeared into the kitchen. In record time, Joey had shaved, bathed, and put on his official uniform as the commissioner had instructed. ¡°Thank you. I¡¯m sorry about this.¡± ¡°I guess your time off has gone out the window,¡± his wife said sadly. Joey felt a rush of guilt and sadness. ¡°I¡¯m so sorry, honey. I¡¯ll explain to you later. I must go to the city hall. I promise I¡¯ll make it up to you.¡± ¡°Make sure Fabius promises me that, too.¡± ¡°Will do.¡± Joey stormed out the door. It was time to find out what in the world had happened to the lake. Ch. 3 - The City Hall Joey scanned the passersby. Some people looked scared but didn¡¯t evoke any feelings of alertness in him. Others tried to discreetly look away, embarrassed by the officer¡¯s studying gaze. Others passed by and ignored him as if he were invisible. He picked out those from among the crowd that made him feel alert and imprinted their faces in his memory. If he saw them again, he would recognize them. How he wished he could flip a switch to turn his hypervigilance off. He couldn¡¯t help it. Since his father died, his nerves were stretched taut, and his senses were always on alert. It was exhausting. Joey glanced at his wristwatch. It had taken him less than an hour to get here. He spared a look at the city wall behind him, with white marble imperial-looking columns. A gurgling noise could be heard from around the corner. It was a rumbling, mechanical sound. It sounded as if the whole city had just burped from indigestion. The concept wasn¡¯t too far-fetched. The problems that would result from this catastrophe would turn everyone¡¯s stomach. As the neighing of horses and the curious glances from transients provided further hints at the commissioner¡¯s arrival, Joey performed his final checks to ensure his uniform was impeccable. Around the corner came Rhino II with the commissioner¡¯s expressionless face behind the wheel. As he neatly parked behind Rhino I, Joey stood at attention. Looks mattered here. The buzz that both Rhinos would cause was probably reason enough to attract the curiosity of journalists who would converge to the city hall as sharks drawn by blood. Joey saluted, and the commissioner saluted back. ¡°Constable.¡± ¡°Commissioner.¡± Both walked side by side. ¡°Commissioner, was deploying both rhinos wise? The journalists will figure out something is wrong.¡± ¡°Although our goal is discretion, here speed was more important.¡± After a few seconds, he added, ¡°Or maybe you¡¯re right. I panicked. We shouldn¡¯t have brought the rhinos.¡± Joey gulped. He¡¯d never seen his commissioner so nervous. They silently climbed up the steps. It was time to see how bad things were. * ¡°Your credentials, sir,¡± asked a guard in metal armor at the entrance of the oil market. Geoffrey obliged, showing his license. The guard studied the document attentively. ¡°Please, come right this way.¡± The guard led Geoffrey onto a small side room, one of many like it, and began searching him. After ensuring that Geoffrey carried no weapons, the guard handed him a hooded cloak. ¡°Put it on, sir.¡± Geoffrey did, and at the guard¡¯s beckoning, he covered his face with a hood. The guard left, and Geoffrey followed him through a complex labyrinth of corridors. Geoffrey had always marveled at how the guards knew where they were going. Occasionally, he saw another merchant following a guard at an intersection. Coming to buy oil was almost like attending an eerie funeral. Many times, merchants had nightmares about the specters of the auction house. The guard finally made it to the boxed chamber door. Other guests entered the neighboring chambers, but Geoffrey was clueless as to their identity. He saw the number 265 on the door, and went in. He¡¯d been assigned the boxed seat on the structure¡¯s third floor. Looking down, he had a clear view of the podium and the gigantic board. The auction house was built as if it were an opera house or a theater, with one difference: all seats were boxed. Geoffrey could see the podium where the auctioneer would stand, but none of his neighbors. Geoffrey searched the notice board for the day¡¯s prices of sirenia. The price was still stable at 94 crowns. Geoffrey waited for the auction to begin while sitting on a red velvet cushioned seat. He grimaced as he studied the lavish furniture around him. Calculating the obscene amount of money the auction house had spent in furbishing these boxes alone left a sour taste in his mouth. For them to be able to afford this kind of expenditure while keeping only such a small percentage of the fuel sales gave wings to one¡¯s imagination. Just how much money went through the oil market every year? The auctioneer arrived at the podium and gathered his notes of the day¡¯s listings. The amphitheater was utterly silent, and the auctioneer¡¯s voice resounded pleasantly and clearly in the structure. ¡°Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the oil market. We have a fine lot to present to you today, a wonderful lot indeed. We have over two thousand sirenia barrels. Don¡¯t be shy. Don¡¯t be shy! ¡°Let¡¯s start with the first lot. Thirty barrels of sirenia, refined right here, in our Grassum Lake by Wilson & Wilson. We¡¯ll start at the price of ninety-five crowns per barrel. Who gives ninety-three? The gentleman from box 176. Who gives ninety-four? Can I get ninety-five? Thank you kindly, mister. Who gives ninety-six? Ninety-six anyone? Going once. Going twice.¡± Geoffrey raised his plaque. ¡°The gentleman right there. Going once. Going twice. Sold! Sold to the gentleman with number 265. The next lot is for a hundred barrels from the Silver Ranch. We will start this lot with ninety-five crowns as well. Who gives ninety-five? The gentleman right there. Who gives ninety-six? The gentleman down here. Who gives ninety-seven? Going once, going twice.¡± Geoffrey raised his plaque again. ¡°Ninety-seven to the gentleman. Going once. Going twice. Sold! Sold to Mr. 265.¡± The auction went on. The competition became fiercer, but Geoffrey didn¡¯t even blink as he kept bidding. Soon, the other merchants just gave up on competing altogether. Geoffrey¡¯s buying frenzy was driving up the price of the barrel for the day. Geoffrey was sure that some more sensitive investors could feel something was off. They were probably wondering whether they should try to buy the oil despite the ludicrous inflation. Still, he doubted that anyone had the imagination required even to begin to suspect what was happening lakeside. New Lisbon had maintained a steady supply of sirenia for two centuries. There were always more than enough barrels. No one wanted to buy oil at an above-market price. There would be more the next day. There always was. ¡°Mr. 265 is unstoppable. One hundred barrels of oil sold at 130 crowns apiece. Oh my. This hasn¡¯t happened in a while,¡± said the auctioneer. A mix of disbelief and something Geoffrey thought was embarrassment could be heard in his voice. ¡°We are sold out. This is a fine day for the house! Thank you, Mr. 265.¡± Geoffrey stood corrected. He had mistaken the auctioneer¡¯s emotion for embarrassment, but it was regret at not having more sirenia in stock to sell. The auctioneer probably received a commission on the sales. ¡°Thank you for coming, ladies and gentlemen. We¡¯ll have another auction tomorrow at the same time.¡± If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. Geoffrey stood up and approached the door. He knocked twice, signaling the guardsman that he wanted to leave. He pulled the hood over his head, hiding his face. The door was open shortly after, and turning into an anonymous specter again, he followed the guard toward the cashier. * The mayor paced in the office as he spoke in a nervous tone. ¡°It¡¯s a disaster! A catastrophe!¡± Whenever Joey saw the mayor speaking in public, he seemed so sure of himself, but now he looked like a frantic child. Fabius, however, showed his worth as a police commissioner. After overcoming the initial shock at the news, he now managed to remain still and unperturbed as a statue. Even though Joey tried to follow his good example, he couldn¡¯t stop tapping his foot nervously or fidgeting with his hands. The mayor turned to the commissioner. ¡°The ranchers are panicking, Fabius! The city hall guards have their hands full. Please send some officers here to assist us.¡± ¡°Yes, Mr. Mayor.¡± ¡°Sir, Dr. Link and Professor Norris are here,¡± interrupted a secretary who knocked at the door. ¡°Good! Finally, someone who can explain to me what¡¯s happening! Have them come in, please.¡± The secretary opened the door and let two aged men in. One was tall, and his hair was a mix of grey and golden. He wore a dark brown shirt and a pair of beige trousers. He was almost as tall as Fabius. Even though he was an academic, he still had tanned skin and looked lean and outdoorsy. The other guest was almost half as tall. He looked even more scholarly with his plaid blazer and thick glasses. His bald head gave Joey the impression that his brain was bigger than average. The mayor shook hands with the two academics. ¡°Gentlemen, please have a seat. This is Commissioner Fabius and Constable Joey. These are Dr. Link, a biologist specializing in Lake Grassum, and Professor Norris, a well-respected economy professor at Orca University. They are both Science Academy nominees.¡± ¡°Good morning, Mr. Mayor. Commissioner. Constable,¡± Dr. Link greeted in a pleasant tenor. ¡°Good morning,¡± Professor Norris said while taking a cloth from his pocket and wiping the sweat off his long forehead. The mayor seemed more relaxed now that he had two scholars to help him understand the situation. ¡°Gentlemen, my aides have briefed you on what¡¯s happening in the lake. Dr. Link, what do you make of this?¡± ¡°Your honor, I have very little data to work with. All I know is what your aide has told me. He said that the lake has somehow lost, at least, some of its salinity. Are you sure this information is correct?¡± ¡°I¡¯m afraid so, Doctor.¡± ¡°Are there water samples? Any measurements? Has any team been deployed?¡± ¡°No. We haven¡¯t had the time. What¡¯s the worst-case scenario?¡± Dr. Link took a deep sigh. ¡°If the lake permanently became a freshwater lake?¡± ¡°Yes. What would happen to the herds of sirenians then?¡± Dr. Link scratched his chin, simulating possible outcomes. ¡°We don¡¯t have to worry about the manatees, the balatees, or the Steller¡¯s Sea Cows. Our greatest liability right now is the dugongs. They can only live in brackish and seawater. They won¡¯t take this change well. Has there been any reports of dugong deaths or sickness?¡± Joey gulped. His family¡¯s estates owned a herd of dugongs. Even though he hardly went there, the animals were still his in name. He wondered if they were doing alright. ¡°No, not to my knowledge,¡± answered the mayor. ¡°Susan!¡± shouted the mayor, almost making Dr. Link jump off his chair. ¡°You called, sir?¡± ¡°Go downstairs and ask the producers if any of their dugongs have fallen ill or died.¡± ¡°Right away, sir.¡± Joey didn¡¯t miss the small appreciative grunt from the commissioner beside him. It seemed that the mayor and the commissioner had a similar approach to managing their employees. ¡°So, if only the dugongs are affected by the disaster, we¡¯re safe. Right?¡± asked the mayor. Dr. Link shook his head. ¡°Hardly. Sirenians can be very sensitive to changes like this. Sea cows can avoid reproduction and even suffer miscarriages if they feel that the conditions to bring their calves into the world are wrong. Additionally, oil production is intrinsically connected to the welfare of the animals. If they¡¯re stressed and feeding on forage, they can¡¯t put on the weight you need to harvest their oil. ¡°The unique conditions that make Lake Grassum the best place on the planet to raise sirenians are very delicate. We can be looking at a total disrupture of the food chain and irreversible damage to the ecology of their habitat.¡± ¡°Mr. Mayor?¡± All eyes turned to Joey, who¡¯d decided to intervene. The mayor frowned questioningly at Joey. ¡°What is it, son?¡± ¡°Even if the animals are safe, you must consider how the vacuuming parlors will be affected if they¡¯re damaged by the flood. It¡¯s very sensitive equipment.¡± ¡°Constable Joey is the son of the late Jebediah Jones, sir. He knows a thing or two about ranches,¡± explained the commissioner. Joey saw how frowns around him turned into looks of respect. ¡°Of course, of course! You have the same eyes. That¡¯s where I recognized you from. Your father was a great man,¡± the mayor complimented. ¡°Thank you, sir.¡± ¡°Some producers did mention that their parlors were ruined. It¡¯s a good observation. I¡¯ll make a note to call someone who specializes in the repair of the parlors. Let¡¯s keep hearing Dr. Link about the biology side of things for now. Please, doctor.¡± Dr. Link continued, ¡°I suggest studying the possibility of temporarily relocating the dugongs to the Steller Sea Cow ranches in the ocean.¡± ¡°Very well. What else?¡± The mayor never stopped writing as the doctor spoke. ¡°An ecosystem is both a fragile and a robust thing. Even though many species will die if this sudden change has indeed occurred, others can survive and adapt. However, the lake¡¯s habitat will take time to regain its vitality. We should ensure plenty of forage is available to get the manatees and the balatees through this change.¡± ¡°Susan!¡± roared the mayor. The mayor¡¯s secretary popped her head back into the room. Even though she was smiling, her breathing was heavy, and her hair was disheveled. ¡°What did the producers say?¡± ¡°No reports of any animals getting sick, sir.¡± ¡°Most intriguing,¡± let out Dr. Link. ¡°Good job, Susan. Take this piece of paper. I want the finest mechanical engineer in town stat. Dr. Link. Can I ask you to gather a team and check the lake? I want answers.¡± ¡°Of course.¡± The mayor stood up, politely prompting the biologist¡¯s dismissal. ¡°We¡¯re in your hands, Dr. Link. Regardless of how much or how little you discover, send all the information you collect by sundown.¡± ¡°You can count on me, Mayor.¡± The man hurried off with a vitality that didn¡¯t match his age. The mayor sat back down and focused his eyes on the other scholar who had remained silent until now. ¡°What about the economy, Professor Norris? What are your predictions?¡± Judging by the amount of sweat on the professor¡¯s forehead, his predictions were the stuff of nightmares. ¡°It depends on how badly this catastrophe affects sirenia production. We can¡¯t make sirenia without sea cow blubber; over a third of it is harvested here in the city. If the world suddenly loses a third of its oil...¡± the doctor trailed off. ¡°What?¡± ¡°Well, the precedent we have is 1843. When the number of whales started to dwindle, and the supply for whale oil couldn¡¯t meet demand, there was a market crash, looting, widespread panic, and finally war.¡± Joey shuddered at this prophecy of doom. The professor continued sharing his opinion. ¡°Of course, this is a different situation; we¡¯re not speaking of an extinction, merely a localized ecological catastrophe. But if we extrapolate what happened to the world in 1843 and apply it to the smaller reality of New Lisbon, I wouldn¡¯t be surprised if the whole city descended into chaos. No city depends more on the production of the lake than us.¡± ¡°What do you suggest we do?¡± the mayor asked. ¡°The first thing is to stockpile. Assess how much oil is in stock and ensure you can maintain supply during this crisis. Contact the oil market and ask them to limit the sale of oil immediately to avoid hoarding.¡± The mayor put down the pen and clicked his tongue. ¡°The auction master is a difficult man to deal with, Professor. I doubt he¡¯ll accept.¡± ¡°Given the urgency, he might. Additionally, reach out to producers, warehouses, and anyone with a stockpile. We need to know how much sirenia we have and how long we can keep the light on.¡± The mayor wrote the suggestion down. ¡°Professor, I¡¯d like to ask you to stay here for the day and have you manage this inquiry. I want your help to navigate this crisis. Finleeeey!¡± This time, a young man in a suit came in through the door. ¡°You called, Mr. Mayor?¡± ¡°Take the constable here and go to the auction house. Ask them to halt oil sales immediately until we can better grasp the situation. Be polite. We can¡¯t afford to offend them.¡± Even though Joey received an order from the mayor, he still spared a glance at Fabius to make sure his superior was OK with it. Fabius gave him a nod, and Joey walked briskly toward the mayor¡¯s aide. Now outside the office, Joey slightly relaxed and cracked his neck and knuckles. ¡°My name is Finley. Nice to meet you, constable.¡± ¡°Call me Joey. Follow me. I have a tank parked outside. It¡¯ll get us there faster.¡± Ch. 4 - The Herald Geoffrey finished writing a list of storehouses he owned throughout the city¡ªan added layer of security to keep his anonymity. ¡°Please, keep half of the lots of 265 right here in the auction house. The rest, ship here as per my instructions.¡± ¡°Yes, sir. How do you plan to pay for all of this?¡± ¡°I¡¯ll write a check.¡± The clerk¡¯s eyes widened. This was probably the biggest check this woman had ever seen¡ªa check for two hundred and three thousand crowns. Geoffrey picked up his pen and signed. He felt strangely calm despite the considerable risk he was taking here. He¡¯d always been collected and confident, but he felt that he should be feeling something different, something along the lines of panic and guilt. ¡°Thank you, sir.¡± ¡°Can I count on the auction house¡¯s discretion?¡± The cashier seemed offended at the notion that the auction house would fail to keep the utmost secrecy. ¡°Of course, sir.¡± ¡°Very well. Have a good day.¡± Geoffrey smiled as he left one of the many private offices where buyers could discreetly make arrangements to deliver their purchased merchandise. Everything was going according to plan. For things to succeed, anonymity was essential, but he knew he could count on the oil market to keep a tight lid on his identity. Soon, people would come sniffing around, trying to find who had bought out the stock of sirenia. Geoffrey¡¯s next stop was the New Lisbon Bank. It was situated across the street from the market. Unlike the bright golden look of the market, the bank was a greyer building. It had multiple lions sculpted in rock, standing watch over the passersby below. Before Geoffrey crossed the street, his attention was momentarily diverted by the newsboy¡¯s shouts. The boy was entering puberty, and his voice was cracked and would sometimes change in tone. He shouted as if he was a grown, fierce adult, though. ¡°Extra! Extra! Green comet sighted last night! Read all about it!¡± Out of curiosity and because he already had gone through the time-critical stage of his plan, Geoffrey took one of the newspapers from the boy and handed him a quarter. He briefly skimmed through the front page article. LISBON HERALD New Lisbon¡¯s Celestial Spectacle New Lisbon¡¯s night sky was graced with a visit from the heavens last night. The observatory spotted a cosmic wonder never witnessed before: a long-tailed giant green comet. In an exclusive interview, Dr. Ludwig, a distinguished astronomer working at the observatory, explains the latest theories about the nature of comets. ¡°Comets are celestial bodies composed of dust, rock, and volatile compounds, often called ¡®dirty snowballs.¡¯ As they journey through the cosmos, they can become visible to the naked eye when they approach the Sun, and the solar heat causes the release of gases and dust, forming their characteristic glowing tails.¡± Regarding the recently sighted comet, Dr. Ludwig revealed, ¡°Last night¡¯s discovery is extraordinary because it appears to be a new comet, never cataloged before. We are tracking its trajectory and analyzing its composition to understand its origins and characteristics better.¡± Comets have been admired throughout history, and some cultures treated their sightings as omens and harbingers of significant events. ¡°Comets have held cultural and scientific significance for civilizations across the globe. Like our ancestors, we study these celestial visitors to expand our knowledge of the universe and connect us to the stars,¡± Dr. Ludwig added. Astronomers and enthusiasts are eagerly awaiting further revelations about this newfound interstellar wanderer. Dr. Ludwig¡¯s research team remains vigilant, tirelessly analyzing data to unravel the mysteries of this cosmic traveler and, in doing so, bring us one step closer to understanding the mysteries of the universe. There was also a featured article in which one of the major producers of wine in the region talked about comet vintages. An enologist explained how some of the best wines in history were associated with cosmic events such as last night¡¯s. The enologist went on to tell the Herald how pleased he was with the sighting of the comet and how he was confident that a great vintage would be coming this year. No, it won¡¯t, thought Geoffrey. Not from this ¡®comet.¡¯ Geoffrey halted. How was he so sure? He was no expert in enology. In fact, he was more of an apple cider kind of guy. Although he had some working knowledge of astronomy, he was not as knowledgeable as these two fine gentlemen. He just knew. Shaking his head, he dismissed the strangeness of this foreign certainty and made his way into the bank. * The city had woken up, and the increased traffic made driving the tank more daunting. Mr. Finley was doing a good job looking unperturbed, but Joey didn¡¯t miss how tightly he hung onto his seat. ¡°So... you¡¯re the son of the great Jebediah,¡± Finley said loud enough to pierce through the noise of the tank. ¡°Yes,¡± answered Joey, proud that his father was still so well-known after being dead for 20 years. ¡°It must have been difficult for you. I remember reading the article in the Herald.¡± The semi-shouted words took Joey¡¯s thoughts to the lake estate. He could still remember the panic, the screams, the broken shards of glass on the floor, his father¡¯s foaming mouth, and the warm tears rolling down his cheek. A tram came around the corner, and Joey had to swerve abruptly to dodge it. His breathing was heavy, and the blood drained from his face. Finley¡¯s shouts brought him back. ¡°...attention! That was close.¡± ¡°Sorry.¡± For the rest of the ride, Mr. Finley did him the favor of not disturbing him anymore with tragic news from his troubled past. Joey didn¡¯t care if it was out of consideration or fear of having an accident, but he was grateful nonetheless. As he drove the locotank, he felt like he was in a fencing match with his mind. The exhaustion and stress of the day were making it harder to keep his inner demons away. Every time he looked at the rearview mirror of the tank, it was as if he were looking into his past; flashbacks of hours of investigation into his father¡¯s murder, countless trips to his mom¡¯s doctor and his therapist. * Geoffrey entered the large building under the studying gaze of the guards below and the stone lions above. It didn¡¯t seem so long ago that he had come here for the first time and had been kicked out because he didn¡¯t look presentable. It was only when Mr. Jebediah returned with him and told the bank he¡¯d be the guarantor that they treated him with respect. He¡¯d come a long way since then. The tellers were impeccably dressed in waistcoats made of sirenian leather. Everyone wore the material proudly as if it was the city¡¯s uniform. There was hardly anyone in the city who didn¡¯t work around sirenians or had family who did and wearing the home team¡¯s colors showed support for the city¡¯s economy. The atrium of New Lisbon Bank had high vaulted ceilings like a cathedral. The echoes of the conversations between tellers and customers, the occasional typewriter, or whooshes and clangs of the pneumatic tubes produced a unique melody characteristic of the bank. The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation. Geoffrey joined a short line of people and soon was called on. ¡°Welcome to New Lisbon Bank. How can I help you today, sir.¡± ¡°I¡¯d like to see my account manager, Ms. Shirley. Is she in?¡± ¡°Sure. You can go to meeting room number 3. I¡¯ll send her a pneumessage and she¡¯ll join you shortly.¡± Geoffrey left the teller area as he glanced at the network of brass pneumatic tubes crisscrossing the ceilings. He tried to imagine which would be transporting the message to his account manager. He had looked into how much it¡¯d cost to set up this type of system in his estate, but the price was abysmal. He reckoned that the bank used it more to flaunt its wealth than to save time. As Geoffrey stepped into the meeting room, he spotted a kettle and decided to make himself some tea. As the freshly brewed tea aroma flooded the room, the door opened, and Shirley stepped in. * It had taken thirty minutes from the city hall to Balaena Market. It would have probably taken twice as long on horse or public transportation. He helped Finley exit the vehicle, and both rushed toward the oil market. Joey managed to get his emotions under control and was again focused on their mission. ¡°Do you think they¡¯ll agree?¡± ¡°I don¡¯t know, constable. The oil market is an entity regulated by over two hundred countries. The auction master can be quite inflexible.¡± ¡°Do you think he has to ask for permission from every single member of the Energy Union?¡± ¡°Let¡¯s hope not.¡± At the market door, the constable flaunted his badge to be allowed entry, and when that didn¡¯t work to summon the auction master, Finley respectfully showed his credentials and the mayor¡¯s signet. They were led into a waiting room. ¡°Would any of you gentlemen like to have some coffee?¡± ¡°No, thank you,¡± Joey said immediately. ¡°I¡¯ll take one. Two sugars, please.¡± Even though Joey desperately wanted a coffee, he refused to have anything to drink. Memories of his dead father fought to resurface, but he quieted them down. As Finley drank, Joey tapped his foot nervously. He tried to keep his mind off his memories and started conversing again. ¡°When did the producers start arriving at the city hall?¡± ¡°At around nine-thirty. It¡¯s still a long way from the lake to the city.¡± ¡°Probably this hasn¡¯t hit the newspaper. It¡¯s just a matter of time, though.¡± ¡°Good morning,¡± someone said in a steady baritone, interrupting their conversation. Joey and Finley stood up at once and respectfully greeted the auction master. Master Ulysses was a man in his fifties with thin ginger hair and a stocky belly. His suit was made of silk and not sirenian leather. Joey didn¡¯t miss the meaning of the choice of wardrobe. The auction master did not want to seem like a citizen of New Lisbon. He was a foreign emissary in control of a commercial embassy. ¡°Gentlemen, what seems to be the matter that requires the attention of the oil market?¡± Mr. Finley took the stage. ¡°Master Ulysses, there¡¯s been a problem at the lake. The lake has flooded, which will likely negatively impact the extraction of sirenian oil. We were hoping that until we conduct further studies on the subject, you¡¯d be willing to hold on to the sirenian barrels in your possession. What do you say?¡± ¡°A lake flood? That hasn¡¯t happened in over 100 years.¡± ¡°Yes, many of the extraction facilities have been ruined and will require extensive maintenance before they can be used again,¡± Finley explained. The auction master grunted and stared into the distance, lost in his thoughts. ¡°That explains it,¡± he whispered. ¡°What is it, Master Ulysses?¡± ¡°We sold out our stock of sirenian oil today.¡± Joey and Finley exchanged panicked looks. ¡°Who bought it?¡± demanded Finley, evoking an angry stare from the auction master. ¡°You know better than to ask that question, Mr. Finley. You know that the identity of buyers is sacred and inviolable. I cannot; I will not disclose a buyer¡¯s identity. So, I¡¯ve sworn.¡± ¡°But master, you can surely understand the repercussions. We¡¯re talking about prices skyrocketing, hysteria, panic, a market crash. If we could contact this buyer, perhaps-¡± ¡°Enough! I understand, but I¡¯m afraid I can¡¯t do anything. There have been crises before. Things always sort themselves out. The oil market has a reputation to maintain. Do you think we¡¯d have a good reputation if we¡¯d go about sharing secrets?¡± ¡°But, sir...¡± ¡°You have the oil market¡¯s support in capping the sales of barrels until the situation sorts itself out. However, I¡¯ve done nothing unlawful; neither has the buyer. And that¡¯s that. You¡¯ll have to contact the Energy Union if you want anything more than that. If you¡¯ll excuse me, I have important work to do.¡± Joey watched helplessly as Mr. Finley stood up to leave, and he followed. They marched gloomily toward the locotank. They had to bring back the bad news to the city hall. * ¡°You did what? A check for two hundred thousand crowns? Are you insane, Jeff?¡± ¡°That¡¯s precisely why I came here, Shirley. I want to make sure the check won¡¯t bounce. How much money do I have in my account?¡± Shirley took out a ledger and consulted Geoffrey¡¯s account information. ¡°Jeff, you only have thirty thousand crowns. There¡¯s no way you can afford this expenditure.¡± ¡°I would like to ask for a loan, then.¡± ¡°I seriously doubt that the bank will loan you this much money. Unless you bring forward some serious collateral.¡± ¡°So be it. I¡¯ll send you all the documents later today. It¡¯s of paramount importance that you can guarantee this loan, Shirley. I¡¯m willing to put up my personal locomotive, house, shops, and herd for collateral. Everything, except for my estate on the lake, do you hear me?¡± Shirley nodded in agreement. ¡°Jeff, this is not like you. You¡¯re always such a cautious investor. Why are you in such a rush? You don¡¯t look like the same man I know. Is everything OK?¡± Ambyssus¡¯ grief. ¡°Yes, Shirley. Everything is alright. Just having a very eventful day, that¡¯s all.¡± * Joey hadn¡¯t slept in thirty-six hours. Others would have collapsed, but Joey stood tall next to Commissioner Fabius all day. They had accompanied the mayor as geologists, weathermen, biologists, economists, ranchers, and city officials came in and out of the office. Joey had missed most of the technical and eloquent jargon thrown around the office, but he understood one thing. The situation was dire. Over a third of the world¡¯s sirenian oil production was in Lake Grassum. Nowhere else did the sea cows gain weight and breed so quickly. After all the experts were heard and a plan was drafted, the mayor called all the lake ranchers and asked them to attend an emergency briefing meeting at City Hall. Even though ranchers¡¯ estates and wealth came from the lake, most of them lived in the city, so it hadn¡¯t been difficult to gather so many of them here on such short notice. Several other police officers now stood at attention inside the city hall¡¯s biggest conference room. As businessmen arrived, a buzz of disquiet filled the place. The fashion this year was manatee leather capes dyed in dark purple. Amid the waving purple fabric stood Joey. The commissioner had told him to stand still like a stoic statue and look as official and angry as possible. It wasn¡¯t difficult for Joey to look mad and menacing. The circumstances around his father¡¯s death pointed toward one of these men being involved in his father¡¯s murder. He had no clue who had done it, but he felt furious at the notion that one of these wealthy men could be his father¡¯s killer. Businessmen nodded respectfully as they entered the room and spotted a constable. The fire of complaint in some of these men¡¯s eyes was immediately cooled at the sight of a police officer eyeing them menacingly. ¡°Joey? Is that you?¡± asked a familiar voice. Greeting Joey was a man his age, early thirties. His attire suggested prosperity but not luxury. The boots he wore still had some spots of silt and a line showing that they had been submerged today and then dried as the day went on. The untamed yellow curls of Geoffrey¡¯s hair and the scruffy shadow of an unshaven beard contrasted with what was meant to be a professional look. The man seemed not to have slept for as long as Joey. ¡°Jeff! Long time no see!¡± Joey stopped himself from hugging his old schoolmate when he recalled where he was and what kind of image he was trying to pass. He caught himself in time to only stretch his hand to shake Geoffrey¡¯s. ¡°Look at you. You look fantastic in a uniform. Fantastic, indeed. Your old man would have been proud. Yes, very proud,¡± complimented Geoffrey. ¡°Thank you, Jeff. And look at you, all businesslike. It¡¯s quite an upgrade from wearing shoes with more holes than Swiss cheese.¡± Both laughed at the joke. ¡°This is quite the situation, hey? Who would have thought that we¡¯d have to all get together like this,¡± said Geoffrey. ¡°You almost seem happy about it,¡± protested the constable. ¡°Now, now, Joey. Why would I be happy about a disaster? If there is any joy in my remark is because we could all get together here so soon. Yes, very quickly, indeed. The good mayor did a good job getting us all here tonight. We all must stick together, no matter what.¡± After some thought, Geoffrey added, ¡°What about your father¡¯s estate? The one near the lake?¡± ¡°It should all be OK over there. Pop always played it safe, and he built all his estate on high ground just in case something like this happened. But you know I can¡¯t bear to go there. And I just can¡¯t come down to sell it either,¡± sadly remarked Joey. ¡°Of course. Of course. What about your Pop¡¯s pens or his parlor? Are any of them still active?¡± ¡°No. Getting it all up and running again would take some serious work. You know how sensitive the equipment in the parlors is. The lake¡¯s salty water gets in the equipment no matter how much you clean it. After being abandoned for so many years, I think Pop would have just wanted to sell what it¡¯s left for scraps and buy a new one,¡± Joey said this with some embarrassment. His father¡¯s estate was always a soft spot for him. He knew how careful his old man was with the facilities. His father would have scolded him for letting the estate fall into such disrepair. ¡°I see. I see.¡± Joey frowned at the giddiness in Geoffrey¡¯s voice. He first thought that maybe Geoffrey was looking for a place to vacuum his herd, but he seemed thrilled instead of sad at the news. ¡°Well, my friend, it was good catching up with you. I¡¯ll find a seat. Why don¡¯t you come down to my estate one of these days? We could have a drink or something.¡± ¡°I think I¡¯ll take you up on that offer. Marie and I talked the other day about how long it¡¯s been since we last got together.¡± ¡°Good. Good. Let¡¯s arrange it once this dreadful storm blows over. See you around, Joey.¡± ¡°See you, Jeff.¡± Geoffrey walked away. Joey felt that something was wrong with his old classmate. Several warning bells were ringing in Joey¡¯s mind. Perhaps it was how relaxed and happy he seemed during such a tragedy. Or maybe it was the weird interest in the condition of his father¡¯s estate. Joey quieted down his instincts. His wife had repeatedly told him to turn off his investigative mode when he talked to friends. Joey had more than once upset his in-laws because of his obsessive hypervigilance. Maybe he is just as tired as I feel, thought Joey. He went back to staring down the arrivals. Ch. 5 - The Meeting ¡°Order! Gentlemen, please.¡± The mayor was having trouble starting the meeting. As soon as he appeared on the stage, all the ranchers stood up and started shouting, like a group of starved animals who got a glimpse of a farmer carrying a bucket of corn. Although everyone knew the mayor, it was Geoffrey¡¯s first time seeing the man in person. Peter ¡®Eagle¡¯ Meyer was a man in his sixties with small hands kept in constant motion, either fastening and unfastening one of the buttons on his vest, changing his watch from one pocket to another, or slightly adjusting his monocle. The mayor¡¯s most distinctive feature was his long nose, which seemed more like a beak. Since he was a child, Geoffrey had heard people call him Mr. Eagle because of it. Seeing the man up close, the nickname was well-deserved. Word on the street was that the mayor himself encouraged it. The politician probably figured that Mayor Meyer was a mouthful and decided that Mayor Eagle was something voters could more easily remember. This was one of the most powerful men in the city. He controlled the police and ruled over a city that, while part of a nation in name, was more of an international hub. Governments and tycoons constantly tried currying favor with the man in the search for a piece of the biggest slice of the pie of the energy market. Geoffrey felt an emotion he wasn¡¯t expecting at the sight of the mayor. It was a burning sensation in his chest and his eyes. It was a mix of anger and longing. It was followed by a sweet taste in his mouth, a mix of honey and peppermint. A flash of memories came uninvited into Geoffrey¡¯s mind. That time when he hadn¡¯t eaten in six days and finally found a garbage can with something edible. The joy he had felt after eating something repulsive twisted his stomach. Then, images of when he was sent to beg, only to give all the money he¡¯d made to pirates. Then, there was the pain of when he was beaten after the pirates discovered he was keeping some of the money for himself. When Geoffrey was a street urchin, he¡¯d been beaten, robbed, beaten again, and exploited by the scum of the slums. He¡¯d fought with all his might to climb out of the quagmire until he could earn respect. But looking at the mayor, he was reminded that he wasn¡¯t at the top of the mountain. He was nothing but an ant that the mayor¡¯s boot could squash. An old fire was stoked in Geoffrey¡¯s heart. The flames of uncertainty and the desire for more power were built into a powerful inferno. The voices in his heart were becoming so powerful that they crowded out the choir of complaints around him. The mayor discreetly signaled toward the police commissioner in a cry for help. Commissioner Fabius clapped his hands a few times. Geoffrey snapped out of his dreamy daze. The man was so large, and his gestures so wide and broad that it was impossible not to look at him. Of course, the thunderous clap of his bear-like hands also helped. The mayor managed to use the moments of silence created by the commissioner¡¯s help to take the reins of the meeting. ¡°Ladies and gentlemen,¡± his voice was persuasive and wheezy, ¡°I know everyone is concerned about what happened today at the lake. I spent the whole day consulting with several experts and even hearing some of you out. Rest assured that we¡¯ll help you. As I¡¯m sure you can appreciate, it¡¯s in everyone¡¯s interest that we resume oil production as soon as possible.¡± Everyone sat down. Hearing the mayor¡¯s assuaging words, they relaxed. ¡°I¡¯ve asked Dr. Link, one of the foremost experts in the lake¡¯s ecology, to gather a team and ascertain the situation in more detail. According to the last message we received from him, all animals seem fine for the moment. This is excellent news.¡± The audience relaxed a little more. The mayor was indeed a masterful politician. Once he started talking, these wealthy men seemed like well-behaved children in a classroom. ¡°Time will be needed before we can verify how this event has impacted the lake¡¯s ecology, but according to what Dr. Link has told me, this event is only temporary, and most of the lake¡¯s wildlife can temporarily deal with the new conditions.¡± Geoffrey smiled. The human called Link had not even scratched the surface of what had happened in the lake, and they were already so sure it was temporary. ¡°From what I¡¯ve gathered, the biggest concern right now is the machines. The lipovacuum machines are very sensitive equipment and are essential in extracting the blubber from the sirenians. Additionally, they are kept on the shores, near the water, which means they are all underwater right now.¡± The mayor discreetly consulted some notes and continued his speech. ¡°It appears that to get them working again, we¡¯ll have to disassemble them, clean them, and reassemble them. We also have to install them in facilities that are on higher ground and dig canals to bring the animals to the vacuuming parlor.¡± A murmur of protest went around the crowd. Before the noise was allowed to grow any louder, the mayor continued. ¡°Gentlemen, I can appreciate your concerns. The operation I¡¯ve just described is costly. I want you to know that the city is ready to help you however we can. We have a fund for natural disasters and are ready to tap into that to help you get through these hard times. ¡°After consulting with the companies that manufacture this equipment and reaching out to the engineering department of Orca University, it seems this change will take some weeks. But that¡¯s too long. The whole world depends on the production done in our city. May I ask if there is anyone among you whose facilities were unaffected by the flood?¡± This is it, thought Geoffrey. The chamber was all silent. Everyone around him was desperate enough. Some part of him felt ashamed at what he was about to do. His eyes focused on Joey. His friend had become so similar to his benefactor. It almost felt like Mr. Jebediah himself was next to the mayor. If Mr. Jebediah were in his shoes, he would have already extended a helping hand to his fellow ranchers. He should honor the memory of his mentor. Joey would also be proud of his willingness to help. As for all the barrels he¡¯d bought, he would just say that he¡¯d bought it so that no one else could get to it before he gave it to the city. Yes, that was the right thing to do. Just as Geoffrey was about to give up, a cascade of thoughts flashed through his mind. Yes, Jebediah had been kind. But hadn¡¯t he been too kind? Hadn¡¯t that gotten him dead? In business, ruthlessness is kindness. Jebediah had also been the richest. It was easier to help others when there was no one above you. But there are so many people out there who are more important than you, Geoffrey. Look at the mayor. You¡¯re nothing to him. He¡¯s just like the pirates who exploited you as a kid. Yes. You¡¯re not doing anything unlawful, Geoffrey; you¡¯re just seizing an opportunity. Your mentor would be proud to see you become such a fine businessman. Go for it. Go for it. While everyone remained seated, Geoffrey stood up. * Joey tried his best to stay still, but it had been a long day. Whenever he felt his patience thinning, he focused on the ranchers in the crowd. It wasn¡¯t a stretch to think that among these producers was the man who killed his father. The fury that thought ignited in him kept him going. The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. If enough extraction facilities were still operational, they could offset the damage, but no one was stepping forward. Too bad his old man¡¯s facilities weren¡¯t well-maintained either. His father had always warned about the dangers of keeping the parlors ashore. This was what happened when you kept all your eggs in one basket. ¡°Mayor, my facilities are fully operational.¡± Everyone turned toward the voice. Geoffrey stood up, facing the mayor. Of course! Geoffrey! He¡¯d learned from his father. How could Joey forget about him? ¡°Alright, Mister¡­¡± ¡°Geoffrey,¡± Geoffrey prompted. ¡°That is excellent news, Mr. Geoffrey. How come your facilities are unaffected by the flood?¡± ¡°I studied the records when I set up my ranch. There was some mention of a great lake flood a hundred years ago. My mentor taught me to play it safe. That¡¯s why I built my processing and vacuuming facilities on higher ground.¡± The other ranchers turned green with regret. They¡¯d sacrificed caution for profit, and now they were paying for it. ¡°Your mentor... who was it?¡± the mayor asked. ¡°Jebediah Jones, sir.¡± ¡°I see,¡± the mayor said, glancing at Joey. Geoffrey continued. ¡°My vacuuming facilities are intact. We can process thirty animals an hour. If we work around the clock, that¡¯s seven hundred animals a day. In two weeks, we could handle ten thousand.¡± Hearing the numbers, the mayor¡¯s voice grew more confident. ¡°Mr. Geoffrey, you¡¯re very kind in assisting the town in this time of need. We¡¯re all counting on you.¡± ¡°Of course, Mr. Mayor.¡± Joey felt his exhaustion lift. He was so proud of Jeff and, more importantly, of his father. Who would have thought his father would save the city even after death by nurturing an orphan like Jeff? Joey gave him a bright smile, but Geoffrey¡¯s eyes stayed on the mayor. ¡°As my fellow producers can imagine, building my facilities on higher ground was costly. I will let everyone use them for a small rental fee.¡± Joey¡¯s shoulders dropped. The other ranchers exchanged worried glances. Joey didn¡¯t like where this was heading. ¡°Of course, Mr. Geoffrey. Provided it¡¯s a reasonable fee,¡± suggested the mayor. ¡°Of course. I¡¯ll rent my facilities for 10% of my colleagues¡¯ total herds.¡± The room erupted. What was his friend doing? Ranchers started shouting accusations. ¡°Mr. Geoffrey, you¡¯re being unreasonable. This is preposterous!¡± ¡°Why would we exchange our animals for this service? We should be able to pay in another currency.¡± ¡°What else could you expect from a slum rat!¡± one of the producers screamed. Geoffrey signaled to speak. The commissioner clapped his hands again to quiet the room. Everyone reluctantly allowed Geoffrey to speak, hoping for a drastic reduction in his price. ¡°Gentlemen, I¡¯m afraid you¡¯re being unreasonable. The alternative would be to resort to the unlawful and barbaric act of killing the herds for their blubber. That would be economic suicide. I¡¯ve run the numbers. You¡¯d need to sacrifice 20% of your herds to keep up with market demand. I¡¯m accepting half of that. How is that unreasonable? ¡°Besides, our good mayor has already vowed to provide economic support. In fairness, I¡¯m willing to forfeit being part of that financial help package,¡± Geoffrey added, sounding magnanimous. The mayor softened his expression somewhat. ¡°Additionally, don¡¯t you need all the cash you can get right now to move your facilities to higher ground? I know from experience how expensive that is. Here I am, trying to do right by you, finding a way to help you get back on your feet, and yet I¡¯m met with ingratitude. What good are all these animals to me if I¡¯m too busy vacuuming yours, anyway?¡± Joey caught some ranchers exchanging guilty looks. The deal wasn¡¯t too bad. They would indeed need every penny to relocate their operations. The demand for labor would drive prices up. Joey¡¯s disgust eased, but he still couldn¡¯t understand why his friend would ask for a price. Couldn¡¯t he just let them use the facilities for free? ¡°Some of you might think I¡¯m taking advantage of you and should let you use my facilities for free. But let me ask you something¡ªwhat do you think will become of my vacuuming parlor if I use it 24/7? Do you know how much wear that will cause? Who¡¯s going to pay for that?¡± ¡°Now, now¡­ Mr. Geoffrey. No one doubts your intentions. We apologize if we made you feel that way. I think the agreement is reasonable. Do you agree?¡± the mayor asked the audience. One hand in the audience slowly raised. Then another. Soon, everyone raised their hand. There was no other way. If they tried to seize Geoffrey¡¯s estate, he could sue them penniless later. Killing and drying out their animals, as in the old whaling days, was also abominable. Doing that would be like killing the chicken to get the eggs. Joey regarded his friend. So that¡¯s why Geoffrey had asked about his father¡¯s estate. He wanted to know if the ranchers had any other options. He needed to be sure he had the only functioning vacuuming parlors to negotiate this boldly. He¡¯d coated his words in sugar and benevolence, but something about him seemed off. The mayor continued the meeting. ¡°Thanks to Mr. Geoffrey, we¡¯ll be able to keep up with demand until we stabilize things. Now, onto the next order of business. As you know, we control a third of the world¡¯s energy market. We sell an average of two thousand barrels a week. Our city alone uses about fifty barrels of sirenia oil a month. After checking the city¡¯s coffers, I found we only have one hundred barrels stored. But we have more than just our city to think about. ¡°I was hoping to ascertain from you how many barrels you have left in your refineries and at the auction house. We don¡¯t want to crash the market, gentlemen. We all remember what happened in 1843 when the whales went extinct. The whole world was set ablaze. Can we pool together our resources for the greater good and ensure the planet doesn¡¯t go dark again?¡± The mayor let the question hang in the air. ¡°Mr. Finley, please take note of how many barrels each producer can spare in this time of need. Anyone?¡± Joey looked at the ranchers. They were hesitant. Geoffrey stood up again. ¡°Mr. Geoffrey?¡± ¡°I have at least 30 barrels of sirenia at my estate. I¡¯ll gladly give them to the city as a show of goodwill.¡± Joey¡¯s heart softened. That was more like the friend he knew. Seeing Geoffrey stand up so quickly and give the oil so generously, the other ranchers looked at him with respect. Another rancher stood up. ¡°Wilson & Wilson has 20 barrels we can spare. Unfortunately, we can¡¯t give them away, but...¡± ¡°No worries, Mr. Wilson. The city will purchase it from you at market price. The same goes for your barrels, Mr. Geoffrey. You all have businesses to run, and the city can afford it.¡± Motivated by their colleague¡¯s examples, other ranchers stood up one by one, volunteering barrels. After thirty minutes, the mayor exchanged words with his aide and smiled broadly. ¡°Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for your generosity. With this, we¡¯ve managed to secure more than a thousand barrels. With that, plus Mr. Geoffrey''s facilities, we can mitigate this crisis. Now, let''s move on to the next point on the agenda. Dr. Link suggested we ask if any of you have suspicions about how the lake could have risen overnight. After all, you know the lake better than anyone. Any thoughts?¡± ¡°Could a storm in some other part of the lake have caused the flood?¡± ¡°Mr. Finley, please write this down. All theories are welcome at this point. Anyone else?¡± ¡°What about an underwater volcanic eruption?¡± ¡°What about a moon tide phenomenon? Maybe Jupiter and the Moon aligned or something.¡± ¡°Maybe an iceberg floated in from the ocean, and it caused the water volume to rise.¡± ¡°Good, good. Any other theories?¡± the mayor encouraged. No one else raised their hand. ¡°Very good. These theories will be attached to a report we¡¯re sending to the Science Academy.¡± Joey¡¯s eyes widened. The Science Academy? One of the ranchers spoke up. ¡°Mr. Mayor, could you please include in the report that it¡¯s necessary to study how the change in water conditions, if permanent, will affect the lake¡¯s ecosystem? The cows eat grass, kelp, and other vegetation. I worry the cattle will starve.¡± ¡°That request has already been included. Rest assured, we¡¯ll get to the bottom of this and take precautions so it won¡¯t happen again. ¡°I think we¡¯ve adequately discussed everything. We¡¯ll discuss the financial assistance package and reconvene tomorrow to fine-tune the details if that suits you, gentlemen. Additionally¡­ yes, Mr. Geoffrey?¡± Geoffrey had stood up again. ¡°Mayor, for the sake of transparency and good business practice, if you find it appropriate, I¡¯ll ask my lawyer to draft the lease for my facilities. He¡¯ll bring it to City Hall¡¯s legal office tomorrow.¡± Joey nodded approvingly. His father had always taught them that it was good practice to put things in writing. Everyone else seemed pleased with Jeff¡¯s words. Having a contract would ensure their rights. Maybe some of them were also thinking about finding a loophole to exploit. They were all seasoned entrepreneurs who appreciated the importance of a good loophole. Additionally, Geoffrey was one of the newest among their ranks. He was green and inexperienced. Maybe they could use some old trick to soften the blow. The mayor seemed pleased too. He could protect City Hall from any accusations if things went south. He liked the idea of everyone signing an agreement. ¡°Most certainly, Mr. Geoffrey. We will be expecting news from your counsel. Meeting dismissed.¡± Ch. 6 - The Tavern Joey woke up with a pounding headache. He barely remembered making it to bed last night, only recalling Marie¡¯s worried face as he came home exhausted and confused. His body felt heavy, as if he had been run over. Glancing at the clock, he saw that it was 10 AM¡ªtime to get back to work. The house was silent, a sure sign Molly wasn¡¯t home or was still asleep. There was rarely quiet with her around. Joey¡¯s stomach growled as he made his way to the kitchen. The snacks Marie had made for him yesterday were gone long before the day ended, and Joey never ate anything unless he or Marie prepared it. Marie sat at the kitchen table, her eyes on the newspaper, unaware of him. For a moment, he admired her calm, the way her brown curls rested over her shoulders. She had this natural stillness about her, like a flowing river. His eyes drifted to a covered plate on the table¡ªhis breakfast. Clearing his throat softly, he stepped forward, not wanting to startle her. Marie looked up, the worry instantly returning to her face. "Morning," she said. "Morning. Where¡¯s Molly?" "I sent her with Abigail to the zoo. I thought it would soften the blow." Joey felt his cheeks burn. "I¡¯m sorry, Marie. I know you and Molly were disappointed. Thank you for arranging that." "She was pretty upset." The unspoken "we" hung in the air. "I know. I¡¯m sorry. But no one could have seen what happened coming." "I can¡¯t stay mad at you, even if I want to." She set the newspaper down and met his eyes. "But you¡¯ll need to take her to the zoo once this storm blows over, alright?" He nodded, guilt stirring inside him. "You scared me yesterday, Joey," Marie said, her voice quieter now. "The look on your face when you rushed out..." "Yeah, it was a crazy day." Marie¡¯s eyes flicked to the newspaper. "Should I be worried?" "There¡¯s no need to panic," Joey said, forcing calm into his voice. "Things should go back to normal soon." "Does anyone know why this happened?" "Not yet. They¡¯re still looking into it." Marie bit her lip. "People are saying it could be like the Whale Wars." Joey shook his head. "No, nothing like that. The animals aren¡¯t going extinct. It¡¯s just a localized disaster." "That reminds me... Isn¡¯t there still a herd of dugongs on your estate? Shouldn¡¯t you check on them?" Joey¡¯s chest tightened at the thought. His father had cared for some of those dugongs. He knew he had to go, but he hated the idea of going back to the place where his father had been murdered. "I know it¡¯s hard for you, dear. Do you want me to go?" "No, I¡¯ll make the time," Joey said, his voice firmer than he felt. Marie nodded, sensing his reluctance but not pushing further. "Guess who I ran into yesterday?" Joey asked, changing the subject. Marie perked up at the hint of gossip. "Who?" "Geoffrey." "Oh, wow. It¡¯s been ages since we saw him. How is he? Still single?" She glanced at Joey¡¯s serious expression and then back at the paper. "Oh... I forgot. He has a ranch now, doesn¡¯t he? Poor thing." "I wouldn¡¯t worry about him. He¡¯s doing well. A little too well, actually." "What do you mean?" Joey¡¯s jaw clenched. "Well, you know how Geoffrey and I go way back." "Of course. Your dad took him under his wing, right?" "Yeah, and there was always this light about him like Dad had. But yesterday... something was off. He looked like one of them." "One of who?" Joey¡¯s grip tightened. "One of those weasels." Marie sighed, the familiar conversation sinking in. Joey always blamed the ranchers for his father¡¯s murder, and Marie had long since stopped trying to change his mind. Today, she just squeezed his hand. "The first thing Geoffrey asked was about Dad¡¯s estate. Wanted to know if the extraction facilities were working. It was almost like he was enjoying the disaster." "Are you sure?" Marie asked, raising an eyebrow. "You should¡¯ve seen the creepy smile on his face." Marie¡¯s sigh made Joey bristle. He pressed on, though. "Then, during the meeting with the mayor and ranchers, he announced his parlor was up and running. Said he¡¯d lease it to other producers¡ªif they gave him ten percent of their herds." Marie blinked. "What does that mean?" "He¡¯s taking advantage of the situation! Bleeding the producers dry." "Are you sure that¡¯s what¡¯s happening?" "Yes! Ten percent of the animals, Marie. That¡¯s a huge cut." "Did he explain why?" "He sugarcoated it, but something¡¯s off. I don¡¯t like it." Marie¡¯s voice softened. "Honey, we¡¯ve talked about this. You have to be careful not to look at your friends through the eyes of an investigator. Maybe he¡¯s just standing his ground. You know how those ranchers can be. He¡¯s new¡ªmaybe this is his way of earning respect." Joey sighed. "Well... he did donate some oil to the city and offered to help the other ranchers." "See? Give him the benefit of the doubt. Didn¡¯t he help you when your dad died?" Joey remembered the funeral, how Geoffrey had been the only one to cry as much as he did, never leaving his side. "You¡¯re right. Maybe I¡¯m overthinking it. He must be under a lot of stress, too." The kettle¡¯s whistle cut through the tension, hissing like a volcano ready to blow. Marie stood up. "Your coffee¡¯s ready. I¡¯ll get changed, and you can drop me off at the city market." Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit. Joey sat down and uncovered the plate. Finger sandwiches and fruit. He bit into one¡ªmaple syrup and peanut butter. Delicious. He reached for the newspaper and read the headlines. News of the flood had made the front page. LISBON HERALD The Flood That Dried the Market On the night of the 16th, Lake Grassum swelled unexpectedly, its waters surging by over a meter, causing significant damage to the local economy. The flood submerged key facilities used to extract sirenian fat, which is crucial in fuel production. Mayor Eagle, in coordination with local authorities, has begun recovery efforts to mitigate both the economic and environmental impact. The extraction facilities, especially the delicate vacuum parlors, are highly specialized and could take weeks or even months to repair. Despite this, the mayor assured citizens that the city¡¯s fuel reserves are well-stocked to weather this period of uncertainty. ¡°Despite the catastrophe,¡± Mayor Eagle declared in a press conference, ¡°we are prepared to meet market demand without any shortages. We urge calm as we work through these challenges.¡± Environmental concerns are also mounting. The flood¡¯s effect on the lake¡¯s salinity could severely disrupt the fragile ecosystem. Wildlife experts are already monitoring the situation, and the mayor¡¯s office confirmed they¡¯ve contacted the Science Academy for further investigation. Meanwhile, in the markets, sirenian oil prices soared to historic highs. An anonymous buyer cleared out the auction before authorities could intervene, despite city efforts to stabilize prices. Dugong oil barrels fetched an unprecedented 210 crowns at the latest auction. Joey let out a sigh as he skimmed the rest of the article. The mayor¡¯s office had done an admirable job of spinning the flood story, painting it as a temporary setback. No mention of protests or looting yet¡ªthough Joey knew it was just a matter of time. His fingers absently reached for another sandwich while he leafed through the paper, his thoughts drifting back to yesterday. He still hadn¡¯t fully processed everything that happened¡ªthe tension in the city, the meetings, Geoffrey¡¯s strange behavior. But what really nagged at him was the lack of coverage of the police raid. His eyes finally landed on the article he¡¯d been searching for: Successful Police Raid on Dark Sciences Lab In a high-profile operation led by Constable Joseph Jones and Commissioner Fabius, law enforcement raided a secret Dark Sciences lab in the Western District. The police seized a significant cache of illegal materials, including forbidden livestock and fossil fuels. ¡°Today is a proud day for the force,¡± Commissioner Fabius stated. ¡°We will not allow these ecological terrorists to jeopardize our natural resources. This operation is just the beginning.¡± Among the confiscated items were cows¡ªan illegal commodity due to their high methane emissions. Dr. Barry Brown from the Science Academy weighed in: ¡°Cows, through their methane output, pose a significant threat to our environment. The Academy¡¯s study famously warns, ¡®Cow farts can destroy planets.¡¯ Methane is one of the most potent greenhouse gases, and unrestricted breeding could lead to ecological collapse.¡± Joey snorted. The headline was buried under news about the flood¡ªsuch a crucial raid, but nobody cared. The city had other worries, and methane was hardly more alarming than rising water levels and oil prices skyrocketing. He popped another sandwich into his mouth and flipped to the next page. Science Academy Versus Farmer A local sunflower oil harvester claims his livelihood has been destroyed after the Science Academy appropriated his land under the Environmental Protection Act. The man, who wished to remain anonymous, said, ¡°My family¡¯s farm has stood for generations, and now they¡¯ve taken it because of a hive of weaverbees. I sent word to the university, thinking I was being a good citizen. Instead, I was robbed.¡± The appropriation followed the rediscovery of the weaverbee, a species long thought extinct. The farmer claims the compensation was far below market value, but the Academy insists that conservation efforts are paramount. A spokesperson for the Science Academy responded: ¡°We understand the hardship this can cause, but environmental preservation is a delicate balance. Valuing land for such purposes is complex, and sometimes expectations don¡¯t align.¡± This incident has reignited debate about the Science Academy¡¯s growing power. Many wonder if their unchecked influence is becoming too great. Joey¡¯s stomach twisted. The Academy¡¯s influence stretched further every year, their authority practically untouchable. To think that he was the one who was going to chaperone their envoy made Joey shudder. Marie emerged from the bedroom, dressed in a sunny yellow dress. She smiled at him. "Ready, dear?" Joey stood up, brushing crumbs off his shirt. "Ready." * The inn was empty. The air carried the faint scent of sweat and beer, halfheartedly masked by an attempt to clean it away. The fire in the hearth was dying out, but the tavern keeper paid it no mind as he absentmindedly wiped the same glass over and over. Despite the establishment¡¯s worn appearance, every glass gleamed, catching the sunlight through half-closed blinds. There was something hypnotic about how the tavern keeper cleaned the glass long after it had been spotless. Geoffrey wondered if the man was cleansing his mind rather than the glass, falling into a trance-like state where idle tasks gave way to quiet reflection. Perhaps it was a form of therapy or a lesson on how even the simplest jobs could become comforting routines. Geoffrey resisted the impulse to check his pocket watch¡ªhe hadn¡¯t brought it. His ragged jacket patched beyond recognition of its original fabric, and his worn shoes and torn trousers made him look like a beggar or maybe a dockworker down on his luck. Every few minutes, his hand would tap the counter in a seemingly random pattern: thumb and pinky, thumb and ring finger, index and middle, and so on. The rhythm was always the same, easy to dismiss as a nervous tic. He signaled for a refill, and the tavern keeper slid the mug across the counter with uncanny precision, landing it perfectly in front of him. Geoffrey took a small flask from his pocket and poured a bit of lake water into the cider. Since tasting it two days ago, he hadn¡¯t been able to stop drinking it. It was just water, he reasoned, nothing harmful. Yet each sip left him feeling calm and grounded as if his thoughts and anxieties were being washed away. The door opened, bringing a gust of fresh air into the room. Geoffrey kept his back to the entrance, resisting the urge to turn around. This was the hardest part¡ªnever look back. He forced himself to stay still, sipping his cider as the lake water soothed his nerves once again. The newcomer took a seat somewhere behind him. The atmosphere thickened, tension rising as Geoffrey sensed the presence without needing to look. The air felt so heavy it was as if a knife could cut through it. Geoffrey had no idea how a simple rhythm of finger taps in this rundown tavern could summon a big shot of New Lisbon¡¯s underworld. ¡°Geoffrey, Geoffrey,¡± a voice rasped, low and wheezing, like a whistle hidden beneath its bass. Geoffrey froze. The voice hadn¡¯t come from behind him but from the tavern keeper. The same man who had silently cleaned glasses for hours had known who he was all along. Legends he¡¯d heard as a street urchin echoed in Geoffrey¡¯s mind: never speak to the tavern keeper unless to order. If the keeper speaks first, the meeting won¡¯t happen. And here they were. Somehow, the glass cleaner knew. Despite the disguise, he¡¯d been recognized. Still, Geoffrey felt no fear. The hardest part¡ªsummoning the pirate lord¡ªwas over. The fact they were talking meant he was safe, for now. ¡°Thank you for seeing me. How did you know who I was?¡± His question was curious, not accusatory. The tavern keeper glanced at his boss, silently asking permission to explain. ¡°The signal you used,¡± the keeper said. ¡°We change the code yearly, but remember all the old ones. Different neighborhoods get different codes, so we know where and when someone¡¯s from.¡± Impressive. The pirate network in the slums was more organized than Geoffrey had imagined. An inviting silence followed. Geoffrey knew the pirate lord was waiting for him to speak first. He tried to catch a glimpse of the man through the reflection in the bottles behind the counter, but the glasses were too clean and transparent. The dark bottles were angled away, hiding whatever lay behind them. Perhaps the tavern keeper¡¯s obsessive glass-cleaning had a different purpose from what Geoffrey had assumed. ¡°I have three thousand casks of sirenia oil that I want to be sold¡ªdiscreetly. No trace back to me.¡± He had their attention now. The slight raise of the tavern keeper¡¯s brow was the first expression Geoffrey had seen from the man in hours. Geoffrey had just revealed the secret everyone was after. The city buzzed with rumors about who had cleared the oil storehouses before anyone else could. Even the mayor had tried and failed to uncover the buyer''s identity. Oil prices had skyrocketed, and the streets were buzzing with speculation. ¡°What¡¯s in it for the pirates?¡± ¡°Two percent.¡± ¡°Ten,¡± the keeper said, his tone final. ¡°Three.¡± ¡°Eight.¡± ¡°Five,¡± Geoffrey countered. ¡°Or I can take my business to the black merchant.¡± Silence. Geoffrey had no idea how to contact the black merchant, the elusive figure who controlled New Lisbon¡¯s underground market. It was a bluff, but he hoped the pirate lord wouldn¡¯t call it. After a long pause, the pirate lord spoke. ¡°Aye. You have a deal.¡± Geoffrey heard a chair scrape behind him, followed by the door opening and closing. ¡°Finish your cider. Pace yourself,¡± the tavern keeper said. Geoffrey went back to drinking. A foreign thought entertained his mind. He had liked this pirate lord¡¯s style. He always remained in the shadow, only pulling the strings on his puppets and instructing his minions. Geoffrey couldn¡¯t even be sure if he had just been in the presence of a pirate lieutenant and not the lord himself. Even the tavern keeper could have been the pirate lord. Ambyssus¡¯ ambition... this was the best type of criminal. One that you can¡¯t even be sure exists¡ªsomeone who plays the game from the shadows and still wins it every time. By Ambyssus¡¯ eye, this was so much fun. Geoffrey calmly finished his cider. He then left some money to cover his bill and left. Ch. 7 - The Loophole ¡°I know what you did!¡± ¡°I-I¡¯m sorry?¡± ¡°Yeah, don¡¯t play dumb. I was there. Saw it all.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t follow, sir.¡± ¡°How do you think she¡¯ll feel when I tell her?¡± ¡°Please, sir, don¡¯t.¡± ¡°I could keep quiet... but that comes at a price.¡± ¡°That¡¯s blackmail!¡± ¡°It¡¯s not that different from what you did. One crown and I¡¯ll forget everything.¡± ¡°How can I trust you?¡± ¡°I¡¯m a man of honor. One crown is a small price to keep your secret.¡± From around the corner, Joey watched the exchange. The extortioner wore a battered top hat and a faded blue waistcoat, with a gold tooth flashing in his gapped smile. As the passerby hurried off, humiliated, the scammer scanned the street for his next mark. ¡°I know what you did!¡± he called out again. ¡°Excuse me?¡± The next target frowned, brushed him off, and walked away. The scammer scowled, tapping his foot impatiently. Then he spotted another passerby. ¡°I know what you did! We need to talk.¡± ¡°Who are you?¡± ¡°I¡¯m the keeper of secrets. Your family doesn¡¯t know what you¡¯ve been up to, but they could.¡± ¡°Nonsense!¡± Joey had seen enough. He stepped out from behind the corner. ¡°Hello, Reggie.¡± The scammer jumped. ¡°Constable Jones! What a surprise.¡± ¡°You can go,¡± Joey told the passerby. ¡°He¡¯s got nothing on you.¡± Relieved, the man hurried off. Reggie pouted, watching his easy money slip away. ¡°Come on, constable! You¡¯re ruining my business.¡± ¡°Business? You¡¯re running a scam. Honestly, I¡¯m amazed people fall for it.¡± ¡°Everyone¡¯s got secrets.¡± Joey¡¯s tone sharpened. ¡°Speaking of which... what¡¯s the word on the street?¡± Reggie shifted nervously. ¡°Oh, nothing worth mentioning.¡± ¡°What about the sirenian oil? Who¡¯s moving it?¡± Joey dangled a crown in front of him, watching Reggie¡¯s eyes lock onto the coin. ¡°Come on, Reggie. You know the deal. No info, no money.¡± Reggie sighed, checking the street before leaning in. ¡°Pirates are hiring muscle. Word is, they¡¯ve come into some money. Sirenia might be involved.¡± ¡°Anything else?¡± ¡°Nothing. I swear on Ambyssus¡¯ eye.¡± Joey frowned. ¡°Ambyssus¡¯ eye? What¡¯s that?¡± Reggie grinned slyly. ¡°I thought you were an educated man, constable. Never heard the phrase?¡± Joey threw him the crown. Reggie bit it, as if doubting its authenticity. Joey rolled his eyes and pulled out another coin. ¡°What about the Black Merchant? Anything?¡± Reggie clammed up. ¡°Have a good day, constable.¡± ¡°Come on, Reggie. Don¡¯t be like that.¡± Joey flashed a crown, but Reggie didn¡¯t budge. The mention of the Black Merchant always did this¡ªshut people down completely. No one in town dared speak about him as if he were the boogeyman. ¡°Fine. You know where to find me if you think of something.¡± Joey waved him off, and Reggie slunk into an alley, no doubt looking for his next victim. Joey headed for the stable where Luna was waiting. Despite the unease surrounding the lake, the city felt oddly unchanged. Laughter of children echoed, trees still broke the sea of grey with patches of green, and merchants barked about their wares. Joey caught the smell of popcorn and grimaced. He was glad his daughter wasn¡¯t with him; she¡¯d insist on having some, and the ensuing argument would be exhausting. As he passed a dark alley, murmurs caught his attention. Two teenagers were scrawling graffiti on the wall. ¡°Hey! That¡¯s public property!¡± They scattered, shouting, ¡°Cop! Run!¡± Joey gave chase but quickly lost them. ¡°Damn, when did I get so old?¡± He doubled back, examining the graffiti. It was in an odd, unfamiliar, and loopy script. Above it, someone had sketched an eye. ¡°Kids these days,¡± he muttered, shaking his head. Back at the stable, he tossed a crown to the stable boy and mounted Luna. She neighed happily, eager to run, but Joey patted her neck, focusing on his next destination. He gulped at the thought. It was time to visit his father¡¯s estate. He had been avoiding it long enough. * ¡°So, the animals are doing well?¡± ¡°Yes, sir. I can''t explain how, but everything seems fine.¡± ¡°Do me a favor, Red. Let¡¯s keep this between us for now, alright? Tell the boys I want no mention of this to anyone.¡± ¡°Sir?¡± Red¡¯s weathered eyes showed concern at the suggestion of withholding their discovery. ¡°Red?¡± Geoffrey¡¯s voice was firmer. If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. ¡°Aye. I¡¯ll leave the business to you, sir. I¡¯m just here for the animals.¡± ¡°Good. Are you taking them out?¡± ¡°Aye! They¡¯ve been cooped up too long. They need to stretch their legs.¡± ¡°Very well. Get to it.¡± Geoffrey watched as Red shuffled toward the pier, the old man¡¯s steps slow but purposeful. His was an interesting discovery, but timing was everything. When the moment was right, it could prove to be a valuable show of goodwill. He turned and headed toward the parlor, which offered a commanding view of the estate. The lake¡¯s waterline had receded, returning to its usual calm volume. As Geoffrey ascended the stairs, he took in his property with a swell of pride. From a man with nothing but a scrap of cardboard to sleep on, he had come so far. This was his kingdom now. Every acre, every building¡ªhis. He passed his secretary on the way to his office. Deborah¡ªthough everyone called her Debbie¡ªwas one of his latest hires. Fresh from Orca University, she¡¯d graduated with top honors. She had a forgettable face, and even though she tried to keep her hair in a ponytail, it was always slightly disheveled. Her desk was perpetually cluttered with papers and notes scattered in chaotic piles, but beneath the disorder lay an unseen system. Somehow, she was the best secretary Geoffrey had ever employed. ¡°Hey, Debbie. How are you today?¡± ¡°Sir, there¡¯s a guest waiting for you. He said it was urgent. I¡¯ve already ushered him into the waiting room.¡± ¡°Very well, I¡¯ll see him now.¡± Geoffrey walked down the hall and stopped at the door. The man inside was familiar, though Geoffrey hardly knew a thing about him beyond his face. The last time they¡¯d met, there had been a tavern counter between them. ¡°Hello, Geoffrey,¡± the tavern keeper rasped. ¡°Hello. Who¡¯s minding the tavern?¡± Geoffrey asked reflexively, instantly realizing how pointless the question was. The tavern keeper owed him no explanations, and Geoffrey certainly wasn¡¯t in a position to pry into the man¡¯s business. Even so, he¡¯d been fascinated by how their system was set up and assumed that the tavern keeper stayed behind the counter twenty-four-seven, cleaning glasses. The tavern keeper gave a noise¡ªhalf grunt, half chuckle. Geoffrey couldn¡¯t quite tell which. ¡°Would you like to step into my office?¡± he offered. The same sound followed. This was a man of few words. Inside, the tavern keeper surveyed the room before entering, his gaze sharp and deliberate. They both sat down. ¡°So, what should I call you?¡± ¡°Tavern keeper.¡± ¡°Very well. What news do you have for me?¡± ¡°We¡¯ve studied your proposal. There¡¯s a way to make it work.¡± ¡°How?¡± ¡°The law requires all oil transactions to happen in the district¡¯s oil market.¡± ¡°And?¡± ¡°Well, embassies are technically foreign soil. We could argue they¡¯re independent nations outside of any district. No one could claim we were breaking the law if we moved the oil and made the deals there.¡± A thrill ran through Geoffrey¡¯s spine. His skin tingled. By Ambyssus... The joy of finding a loophole¡ªthere was no better feeling. It was like squeezing through a crack in the law that no one else had noticed. Geoffrey poured himself a glass of lake water and drank deeply, savoring the rush. ¡°Brilliant. Absolutely brilliant. I trust you have connections with the ambassadors?¡± The tavern keeper nodded. ¡°And the oil market stamps? Every barrel sold must carry the stamp, or it¡¯ll be seized.¡± ¡°No law says you can¡¯t refill old barrels that already have the stamp.¡± Geoffrey smiled. Another loophole. ¡°And the paperwork? How do we manage that?¡± ¡°You¡¯ll put fifty barrels on the market, and we¡¯ll ensure they¡¯re purchased. Afterward, we¡¯ll transport the same barrels back and forth, emptying and refilling them. All the while, we¡¯ll use the same papers. It¡¯s more work but completely legal. Even if someone does manage to trace it back to you, they won''t be able to do anything about it.¡± ¡°Excellent. Oh, where are my manners? Would you like some water, tavern keeper?¡± The man declined with a slow shake of his head. ¡°One more thing. The papers will have to list you as the producer. That means you might get customers wanting to visit the estate.¡± ¡°I see. We¡¯ll be in the same boat then, won¡¯t we? I¡¯m sure I can rely on your... charm to keep them cooperative.¡± The tavern keeper simply stood, indicating the conversation was over. Geoffrey followed suit, watching as the man disappeared out the door without another word. Alone, Geoffrey turned to the wide window, gazing over his vast estate. The lake shimmered in the afternoon light. His kingdom. And soon, his coffers would swell even further. * Silverlake Ranch was the oldest estate in Lake Grassum. Its tall towers and thick walls were relics of the time when pirates roamed the shores. Back then, oil producers invested in fortifications. Now, comfort and luxury had replaced defense. Joey urged Luna through the gates and along the road to the manor. As the trees thinned, the lake¡¯s surface shimmered under the sun. Familiar humps of dugongs surfaced, their placid breaths punctuating the calm waters as they grazed on seagrass. At the stables, he dismounted, leaving Luna in the care of a stable hand. As Joey approached the manor, the brownstone house loomed ahead. Memories of his father¡¯s death surged through him like a cold wave. He had to stop, pressing against the wall, gasping for air. The panic clawed at him, the image of his father¡¯s lifeless body overwhelming. He forced himself to focus on the lake, drawing in long breaths until he steadied. After a few moments, he turned away from the manor. There was no way he could step inside. Joey wandered past the stables and warehouses, noting the disrepair. The property had once gleamed under his father¡¯s care. Now, the walls were battered by the lake¡¯s salty winds, and the whole place looked tired. His father would have been furious to see it like this. Finally, he spotted movement by the pier. A woman, basket in hand, was tossing apples to the dugongs. When she noticed Joey, her face lit up. She abandoned the basket and rushed toward him, or at least hurried as much as a sixty-year-old woman could. ¡°Joseph! It¡¯s really you.¡± She embraced him, and Joey returned the gesture. ¡°Hey, Sophie. Been a while.¡± ¡°Too long! Are you¡ª" She hesitated, the question catching in her throat. ¡°Are you here to move back?¡± ¡°No, Sophie. You know I can¡¯t. Too many memories.¡± ¡°But it¡¯s a fine house, Joseph. A place for you, Molly, your family.¡± Sophie¡¯s eyes twinkled with hope. Joey shook his head. ¡°I can¡¯t. The house... it¡¯s too much.¡± Sophie sighed. ¡°Your father would be heartbroken to see it empty. It¡¯s survived pirates, cannon shots¡ªyet here it stands, abandoned. All it took was a broken heart to bring it down.¡± Joey tried to change the subject. ¡°How are the dugongs?¡± ¡°As you instructed, we care for them but never harvest the blubber. It¡¯s a fine herd, sir. You could get several barrels a year, enough to cover the estate¡¯s costs.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t care about the money, Sophie. My father loved those dugongs.¡± ¡°They were like children to him.¡± Sophie nodded wistfully. ¡°I came to check on the flood damage. Any issues?¡± ¡°Ambyssus¡¯ grief, sir!¡± Joey froze. That was the second time today he¡¯d heard that phrase. ¡°Your father¡¯s estate could withstand an army of pirates! Not even a flood could harm it.¡± ¡°And the dugongs? I heard the water changed.¡± ¡°Yes, it became sweet for a few days, but the dugongs adjusted. They¡¯re back to normal.¡± ¡°That¡¯s strange. I thought they only thrived in seawater.¡± ¡°I can¡¯t explain it, sir, but they¡¯re fine.¡± ¡°And the vacuuming parlor? Is it operational?¡± ¡°No, sir. Someone came by to check a day or two ago... Finley, I think.¡± Joey smirked. The mayor hadn¡¯t trusted him and sent someone behind his back to verify the equipment. ¡°And did you show him the state of it?¡± ¡°I did, sir. It¡¯s all rusted, unusable. Salt ate away at the metal over the years. It needs a full overhaul.¡± ¡°Maybe we should fix it. It could help the city after the flood, especially with other producers struggling.¡± Sophie shook her head. ¡°If you can find someone to do it. All the engineers have been snatched up in bidding wars. Their services are going for astronomical prices.¡± ¡°Bidding wars for engineers? That¡¯s absurd.¡± ¡°It¡¯s the way things are, sir. The rich get the labor, and the rest are left waiting.¡± Joey frowned, disgusted by the thought. ¡°It¡¯s not right.¡± Sophie softened. ¡°Would you like me to get the house painted at least? It would do your father proud.¡± ¡°Do that, Sophie. And keep caring for the dugongs.¡± Seeing Sophie¡¯s smile brought back bittersweet memories of the past, but it also gave him a small sense of comfort. ¡°I¡¯ll find the best painters, Joseph. Maybe your mother would even want to visit once we fix it up.¡± Joey stepped in for a hug. ¡°Thanks, Sophie. I need to get back to work.¡± As he turned to leave, Sophie called after him. ¡°Remember, this will always be your house, Joseph. And your daughter¡¯s, too.¡± Joey paused, then nodded. ¡°I know. See you later, Sophie.¡± He found Luna waiting in the stables, her head nuzzling him affectionately. He hugged her back and, for the first time that day, let himself cry. Ch. 8 - The Rendez-Vous Joey stood under the heavy, gray sky at New Lisbon Central Station, watching as clouds thickened over the city. A zeppelin flew overhead, about to land at the nearby Aquilae Airport. The majestic station stretched before him, with lines upon lines of railways linking it to the rest of the continent. New Lisbon Central Station was praised among the well-traveled as the most modern in the world. Unlike other cities that constantly rebuilt themselves atop older foundations, New Lisbon had practically appeared from thin air a century and a half ago, when the formula for sirenia was discovered, and the commercial exploitation of Lake Grassum began. Joey¡¯s gaze drifted up to the giant clock that anchored the three massive transportation hubs. Rendezvous Clock, as it was called, marked ten-fifteen in the morning. He appreciated the sight of horses yoked to the giant crank, performing their daily march to wind the colossal timepiece. The commissioner had sent him here to pick up the ambassador from the Science Academy. Joey recalled the conversation vividly. When he had asked why, the commissioner had smirked. ¡°It¡¯s a weird case. You¡¯re the weirdest investigator I¡¯ve got. Seems like a good match.¡± Joey still couldn¡¯t tell if that had been a joke or a genuine observation. It was impressive that the mayor had managed to secure a member of the Science Academy in New Lisbon within a week of the incident. He checked the dark plaque where he had written in white chalk: Professor Lincoln. Since he knew which train Professor Lincoln would arrive on, Joey had chosen to wait at the platform instead of at the Rendezvous Clock. The train was due any minute now. He felt a small tug on his trousers. ¡°Mr. Constable, can I see your badge?¡± A little girl in a cute lime-green dress with two ponytails demanded his attention. A few steps away, her mother stood, smiling fondly, watching the interaction. Joey returned the smile, slightly bowing and touching his hat in greeting. The mother offered an apologetic gesture, and Joey crouched to meet the little girl at eye level. ¡°Of course, ma¡¯am. I¡¯m Constable Joey. What¡¯s your name?¡± ¡°I¡¯m Eliana, but my friends call me Lilly.¡± She turned the constable¡¯s badge over in her hands, entranced by it. ¡°One day, I¡¯m going to be a constable too!¡± ¡°Are you now? That¡¯s fantastic.¡± ¡°Are you here to catch bad guys or thieves?¡± Her accusing finger shot toward a boy standing by her mother. ¡°My brother stole my cookie earlier and called me ugly. Can you put him in jail?¡± The boy, realizing he¡¯d been ratted out, ducked behind his mother. Joey chuckled, shaking his head. ¡°Well, I don¡¯t think your brother has a criminal record yet. Maybe I¡¯ll let him go with a warning this time.¡± Lilly grinned triumphantly. ¡°Can I draw on your chalkboard?¡± Joey glanced up at Rendezvous Clock and then at the railway. No sign of the train yet. He could spare a few minutes. ¡°Sure, Lilly. Here¡¯s some chalk. Go ahead.¡± Her brother, sensing he was no longer in trouble, joined his sister, watching curiously as she sketched on the board. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, officer,¡± the mother said. ¡°Are the children bothering you?¡± ¡°Not at all, madam. Entertaining law-abiding children is my favorite part of the job. Waiting for someone?¡± ¡°Yes, my husband. He¡¯s coming back from a business trip to the capital. The children are very excited to see him. Isn¡¯t that right, kids?¡± Lilly continued drawing enthusiastically. ¡°Tony, you¡¯ll never guess what this is!¡± ¡°Hmmm¡­ I need to see more.¡± Joey leaned over to take a look. Was that an octopus? The shape was spherical, with one large eye in the middle and long tentacle-like appendages extending from it. ¡°I know, Lilly! It¡¯s Ambyssus!¡± Tony declared. ¡°Ah, you got me. Your turn!¡± Lilly giggled. ¡°Ambyssus?¡± Joey echoed, the name tugging at something in his memory. He¡¯d been hearing it mentioned more often lately. ¡°Who¡ªor what¡ªis Ambyssus?¡± The children looked at him wide-eyed. ¡°Constable, you don¡¯t know who Ambyssus is?¡± Lilly asked, incredulity in her voice. ¡°Constable, Ambyssus is a very smart cookie!¡± Tony added, excited. ¡°And why does it only have one eye?¡± Joey asked. ¡°Because one is more than enough! It¡¯s a very good eye,¡± Tony answered. ¡°Yeah! Ambyssus has an eye for business,¡± Lilly said, giggling. Joey couldn¡¯t help but chuckle at their rich imaginations. ¡°What about these¡ªare these roots?¡± The kids burst into laughter. ¡°Of course not! These are his fingers.¡± ¡°But his fingers are different from ours. They¡¯re more like tentacles,¡± Tony said confidently. ¡°How many fingers does he have?¡± Joey asked, trying to keep up. ¡°Isn¡¯t that obvious? As many as he needs,¡± Tony replied with certainty. Joey raised an eyebrow and glanced at their mother. ¡°Did they come up with this story on their own?¡± The mother smiled, shaking her head. ¡°Oh no, it¡¯s just a bedtime story we tell them. Didn¡¯t your mother tell it to you, Constable?¡± Strange. ¡°No. I¡¯ve never heard it before.¡± The sound of a train whistle echoed through the station. It was almost here. ¡°Excuse me, kids. I need that back.¡± Joey wiped away the octopus-like creature and rewrote Professor Lincoln in bold letters. He raised the sign as the train pulled into the station, passengers beginning to disembark. Families and friends reunited in warm embraces, and Joey watched as Lilly and Tony excitedly ran to greet their father. ¡°Excuse me, agent. I am Professor Lincoln.¡± Joey looked down to see a middle-aged woman in a long coat standing before him. Her blue eyes scanned him with quiet curiosity, and she carried a suitcase in each hand. Her attire was simple and discreet but elegant. ¡°Welcome to New Lisbon, Professor. Please, call me Joey. Let me help you with those bags.¡± ¡°Thank you, Joey. You can call me Esther.¡± * After Geoffrey returned home from another undercover incursion into the city, he bathed in the lake. The slums had a certain stench, a smell that urchins and thieves could practically sense in outsiders. Geoffrey had made sure his entire ensemble helped him blend in on the streets, but now he needed to return to what he considered his true self: a wealthy businessman. Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website. In the lake¡¯s clear water, Geoffrey enjoyed a rare sense of tranquility. Yet, underneath that calm, there was a pervasive assurance¡ªhe wasn¡¯t alone. As he relaxed in the lake, he took big gulps of the lake¡¯s water to quench his thirst. As he did, flashes of certain images came to his mind. Scenes from recent recurring dreams. They should have been scary or disturbing, given that they were so strange and alien, but Geoffrey felt no fear or repulsion, only nostalgia. After returning to the parlor, Geoffrey shaved and dressed in fresh clothes. His secretary was already busy navigating her chaotic filing system when he found her. ¡°Debbie, when¡¯s my next appointment?¡± ¡°At 11:00, sir. Shirley from the Bank is coming to see you.¡± Geoffrey held his silver pocket watch, its familiar weight always soothing him. He checked the time¡ªthirty minutes until the meeting. More than enough to relax and paint. ¡°Ha. Wonderful. I¡¯ll be in the office.¡± Once inside, he gazed out at the cloudy day. The lake outside had taken on a grayish hue. Through another window, he could see the vacuuming parlor in full swing, processing a batch of balatees. Geoffrey went to the mini-bar and grabbed a bottle of apple cider. Then, he took a flask of lake water he had filled earlier and poured some into the bottle before taking a sip of the mix. The fruity drink soothed him, but the taste of the lake water remained distinct. He rummaged through his desk drawers, finding his paintbrushes. After mixing the colors, he turned to the canvas, brush in hand, standing like a swordsman about to duel his opponent. Today, he would try again to paint Ambyssus¡¯s eye. The hardest part wasn¡¯t the technical skill¡ªit was capturing the emotion. The eye had to reflect intellect, guile, and respect for the game¡¯s rules. Majesty mixed with deviousness. As Geoffrey painted the eye that looked beyond the depths and surfaces of the lake and onto the rest of the world, a small part of his mind wondered why he had become so obsessed with this image. He had always taken enough pleasure in reproducing the work of others. Why had he so fervently begun trying to paint his work? And where had he dredged up this image? Why did he see this image in his mind¡¯s eye every night when he slept or every day when he drank water from the lake? When had he even started to only drink water from the lake or bathe in it? Where had he heard of Ambyssus before? When had he become such a creative painter and underhanded businessman? Even as parts of his mind tried to weave the thoughts together and build up panic from the strangeness of it all, a soothing mental song from the lake¡¯s depths unfastened his concerns and tied them into bolder, grander plans. After a few minutes, Geoffrey paused, admiring his work in the painting. The eye now conveyed outrage at even being considered scary and violent. This was a harmless creature, the eye said, one that lived for business and profit, not for bloodshed and barbarity. See me as the ocean, the eye said, for like me, it is big and deep beyond your imagination, yet you fear it not. It¡¯s there to be surfed, harnessed, and traversed. So am I, said Ambyssus¡¯ eye. The painting showed the eye focused on the outside world while ignoring the herds of dugongs and manatees that graced the upper lighter corners of the painting, for it didn¡¯t care. It didn¡¯t mind the company if it was poorer than him. A knock on the door interrupted his thoughts. ¡°Mr. Geoffrey, Shirley from the Bank is here to see you.¡± He checked his watch again¡ªa beloved gift from his mentor¡ªand realized the time had slipped away. It was already 11 o¡¯clock. ¡°Please let her in,¡± Geoffrey called out, hurriedly putting down his brushes. He fumbled with the apron he¡¯d put on, the smell of paint still lingering on his hands. He had shown up to meetings with smudged clothes more than once. Shirley walked in, dressed in a sharp business suit, briefcase in hand. She looked every bit the professional. Her brown hair was tied back in a ponytail, and her intelligent eyes scanned the room. ¡°Jeff,¡± she greeted him with a nod. There was an edge to her tone. ¡°You¡¯ve been keeping busy,¡± Shirley said, her eyes briefly flicking to the painting before forcing herself to focus on him again. ¡°I¡¯ll admit, I was skeptical about how quickly you paid off your debt, but my manager at the bank was pleased.¡± She gave a professional smile, though it didn¡¯t reach her eyes. ¡°What I can¡¯t explain to him, however, is why you¡¯re already talking about making an even bigger investment.¡± Geoffrey waved away her concern. ¡°Now, now, Shirley, you know I¡¯m good for my word. I just proved that to you, didn¡¯t I? If anything, our last deal only strengthened my standing with your bank. I can guarantee I¡¯ll pay this next loan off in a month.¡± ¡°You¡¯ve changed, Geoffrey,¡± she said, her voice quieter now. ¡°There¡¯s something different about you lately. You''re a bit¡­ too driven.¡± Geoffrey paused at that but quickly reached for the drink cabinet. He poured apple cider into a glass and offered it to her. ¡°Here, Shirley, have some. You¡¯ll see things more clearly after a sip.¡± She hesitated before accepting the drink and taking a small sip. She stood there for a moment, as if lost in thought, before finally speaking again. ¡°I¡¯ll see what I can do, Geoffrey. But I have to run this by management. This is no small amount you¡¯re asking for.¡± ¡°Of course, of course,¡± Geoffrey replied. ¡°It¡¯s perfectly understandable. But remember, I just paid off a massive loan in less than a week. Trust me on this¡ªI¡¯m going to make your bank even richer. Negotiate the rate, but get me that loan. I need it.¡± Shirley took a deep breath, her professional facade slipping for just a moment before she collected herself. ¡°Very well. I¡¯ll see what I can do.¡± ¡°That''s all I ask, Shirley. It¡¯s been a pleasure, as always.¡± She stood, nodded, and left the room. Geoffrey returned to the window, watching the lake with its mysterious, glassy surface. He couldn¡¯t shake the feeling that the water was calling to him again, and without thinking, he reached for the flask of lake water on his desk. * "Are you sure you don¡¯t need more rest, Professor? It was a long trip from the capital." Even though Professor Lincoln had told Joey more than once already that he could call her Ester, he couldn''t bring himself down to doing it. "It¡¯s fine, Joey. I took the night train precisely to arrive and start working immediately." Joey nodded, though a twinge of envy hit him. He had always struggled to sleep on trains, no matter how long the journey was. As they left the Aurum Hotel, where he had dropped her bags at reception, Professor Lincoln hadn¡¯t even bothered to check-in. She was ready to get to work immediately. "As I mentioned earlier, Professor, the Commissioner has assigned me to provide you with any assistance you need during your investigation." "I appreciate that, Constable." "So, where would you like to begin?" Joey asked. "I¡¯d like to go straight to the lake, if possible." No hesitation. No need for rest. She is efficient, Joey thought, maybe even too efficient. He felt a flicker of unease at the prospect of keeping up with her pace. "Of course, right this way. We can take one of the precinct¡¯s locomotives. Dr. Link¡¯s boat should return in a few days, but they¡¯ve set up a camp near the lake for you." "If it¡¯s alright, I¡¯d prefer to look around on my own before meeting the local scientists," she replied. Joey raised an eyebrow but didn¡¯t question her. Was the gap between the Academy and the rest of the scientific community so wide that she didn¡¯t even want to consult her colleagues first? Not that it mattered; his job wasn¡¯t to question her methods. The Commissioner had made it clear: Treat the professor like royalty. "How about this," Joey offered, thinking quickly. "I have a friend who owns a ranch near the lake. We could stop by there first." "That sounds perfect," she said, giving a small nod of approval. As Esther entered the locomotive, Joey checked the boiler, topping it off with sirenia. The Aurum Hotel was ideally placed at a crossroads, where three different rail lines intersected, allowing them to quickly reach almost any part of the city. Joey climbed into the green-and-brown locomotive, waved the purple flag, and they set off. While the train chugged forward, Joey stole a glance at the professor. She had pulled several newspapers from her rucksack. One bore the Aurum Hotel¡¯s logo¡ªsmart, Joey thought, she must have requested them at reception. She skimmed through them methodically, sorting through recent headlines. He noticed the papers dated back a week. The incident had occurred five days ago. Right now, she was reading yesterday¡¯s edition. The headline screamed, ¡°Barrel of Sirenian Oil Reaches Record High Prices.¡± Despite the mayor¡¯s constant reassurances that a deal had been made to secure the oil supply, panic buying had gripped the city. Barrels were being snatched up at ridiculous prices. The mayor had been forced to limit daily purchases, but that only made the prices skyrocket further. Yesterday, one lot of fifty barrels had sold at a record price of 300 crowns each. Professor Lincoln paused on the article longer than usual, her eyes narrowing slightly though she said nothing. Joey sensed her weighing the significance of the price surge. He wanted to say something but bit his tongue. Best not to interrupt. Outside, the city began to fade behind them, giving way to open countryside. The hum of the train against the tracks was rhythmic, soothing almost. Joey¡¯s thoughts drifted for a moment¡ªback to Geoffrey, his old friend. There had been something strange about their last encounter, a shadow of tension. Maybe bringing a Science Academy emissary to his doorstep would unsettle him. It wasn¡¯t a bad idea, as long as Geoffrey¡¯s wife didn¡¯t catch wind of it. Professor Lincoln folded the newspapers, completing her preliminary analysis of the situation. "So... any theories?" he asked. "Theories will come later," she said. "Right now, the most valuable thing I can offer is a fresh pair of eyes and an unbiased perspective. Let¡¯s assess the situation at the lake first, and then we can exchange impressions. Deal?" Joey nodded, feeling relieved by her approach. His eyes turned toward their destination. Let''s see what you''re up to, Jeff. Ch. 9 - The Painting There wasn¡¯t much to say about the terminal on Geoffrey¡¯s property¡ªno imposing station or wide platform, just a simple track that ended abruptly. Joey helped the professor out of the cab as she took in her surroundings. He noticed how deeply she breathed in the air and wondered if the mayor had mentioned the change in the lake''s smell since the flood. ¡°This way,¡± Joey said, leading her down a gravel path past the warehouses. He wasn¡¯t sure how Jeff transported his produce to town these days, but he guessed it was still by locomotive. With the rising cost of sirenia, however, Jeff might soon have to revert to slower horse-drawn carriages. As they neared the lake, Joey paused, allowing the professor to take in the view. ¡°Is this your first time at Lake Grassum?¡± he asked. ¡°No, but it¡¯s been many years. I¡¯d forgotten how clear the water is.¡± ¡°My friend is probably in his office. Shall we?¡± Geoffrey had built into the sand until he hit bedrock, then placed large stones on top, creating a structure that looked like an old fort from the pirate wars. He had likely drawn inspiration from Silverlake Ranch, where he and Joey had often played as children. A canal connected the building to the lake, allowing animals to be brought in via a water elevator. Once herded into the tower, pumps flooded the area, bringing the sirenians to the extraction facilities. It was a costly setup, far more expensive than building parlors on the shore, and running the pumps wasn¡¯t cheap either. But while people had once mocked Geoffrey for the investment, no one was laughing now. Joey and Esther climbed the stairs and entered through the open door. Joey noted that Jeff had hired a new secretary since his last visit. ¡°Hi. I¡¯m Constable Joseph Jones, and this is Esther Lincoln. We were hoping to see Mr. Geoffrey.¡± ¡°You didn¡¯t make an appointment,¡± the secretary replied curtly. ¡°No, but if you tell him Joey¡¯s here, I¡¯m sure he¡¯ll make an exception.¡± The secretary hesitated for a moment, then nodded. ¡°Follow me. You can wait here. He¡¯s in a meeting, but it should be over soon.¡± ¡°Thank you.¡± Joey caught a meaningful glance from the professor. He hadn¡¯t mentioned she was the emissary from the Science Academy. He shrugged and mouthed an apology, signaling he¡¯d explain later. They sat on the plush sofas in the waiting room. Soon, the distant sound of a door opening and footsteps echoed through the hall. ¡°¡­ walk you out,¡± a serious voice said. ¡°Thank you, Mr. Geoffrey. I¡¯m sorry, I didn¡¯t realize the contract specified that the animals had to meet a weight requirement. I thought you¡¯d keep them after the vacuuming,¡± a somber voice replied. ¡°Perfectly understandable, Mr. Wilson. Why don¡¯t we reschedule for a later date, once the animals meet the terms of the contract? These are troubled times, after all.¡± Joey and Esther watched as two men¡ªone old, one younger¡ªwalked out, their expressions grim. They barely acknowledged Joey and Esther as they passed, their steps heavy with the weight of defeat. But Geoffrey¡¯s warm voice soon cut through the gloom. ¡°Have a safe trip,¡± he called after them. Then Geoffrey spotted Joey. He blinked in surprise before his face lit up with a wide, beaming smile. ¡°Joey! What are you doing here?¡± ¡°Well, you did invite me to visit.¡± Geoffrey laughed. ¡°I did, didn¡¯t I? What a wonderful surprise!¡± ¡°Sir, they said¡ª¡± the secretary began, but Geoffrey waved her off. ¡°No worries, Debbie. Joey¡¯s an old friend. I¡¯ll take it from here.¡± As they walked toward Geoffrey¡¯s office, he raised an eyebrow at Esther, clearly curious about her presence. Inside, the office was cozy, with a thick red carpet underfoot and a fireplace crackling gently on one side. A large window offered a panoramic view of Lake Grassum, while another overlooked the vacuuming parlor, where men worked the cattle outside. ¡°It can¡¯t be the original, can it?¡± Esther asked, eyeing a painting over the fireplace. ¡°No, not at all. Painting is just a hobby. This is my crude attempt at recreating the masterpiece,¡± Geoffrey explained with a smile. The painting depicted a dark, stormy sea with a dead whale on the shore. A muscular man, tears streaking his face, hammered a bloody harpoon into a hoe. Joey recognized it instantly: The New Beginning, one of the most famous paintings from the whale extinction era. ¡°I saw the original at the Art Gallery in the capital once. Left quite an impression on me,¡± Geoffrey said. ¡°I¡¯ve tried painting it several times. This is the closest I¡¯ve come, but Vincenzo¡¯s work¡ªhis sea, the pain on the man¡¯s face¡ªjust beyond my skill.¡± This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version. Geoffrey turned to Esther. ¡°By the way, I¡¯m Geoffrey. And you are¡­?¡± ¡°Esther Lincoln,¡± she replied. ¡°She¡¯s the ambassador from the Science Academy,¡± Joey added, watching for his friend¡¯s reaction. Geoffrey¡¯s eyes widened briefly before he recovered. ¡°I see. And I suppose you¡¯re escorting the professor?¡± ¡°That¡¯s right. We¡¯re investigating the flood together.¡± A flicker of alarm crossed Geoffrey¡¯s face, quickly masked by his usual charm. ¡°That was sneaky of you, Joey. No heads-up about bringing the esteemed professor? I could have prepared a proper welcome. It¡¯s not every day we have a representative from the capital. Can I get you anything? Apple milkshake? The secret¡¯s manatee milk¡ªit¡¯s sweeter than dugong¡¯s. Or perhaps apple cider, water, or whiskey?¡± ¡°No, thank you,¡± Joey replied. ¡°I¡¯ll pass as well,¡± said Esther politely. Geoffrey¡¯s smile faltered with exaggerated disappointment. ¡°What a shame. You¡¯re missing out on our lake¡¯s finest.¡± Joey noted how oddly theatrical Geoffrey¡¯s response seemed, though his friend quickly moved on. ¡°Oh, silly me, Joey. I forgot your little trauma. I shouldn¡¯t have offered.¡± ¡°It¡¯s fine, Jeff. Don¡¯t worry about it.¡± Esther gestured toward a canvas covered by a cloth in the corner. ¡°What about that painting?¡± ¡°That one¡¯s not finished,¡± Geoffrey said. ¡°It¡¯s an original, actually. I rarely attempt those.¡± ¡°Let¡¯s see it,¡± Joey encouraged. ¡°It can¡¯t be that bad.¡± Geoffrey hesitated, then relented. ¡°Fine, fine. You can see it.¡± He unveiled the painting, which showed an underwater scene. In the shadows, a giant eye loomed, its size emphasized by the small dugongs swimming near the surface. Dark tendrils snaked through the background. ¡°What an intriguing painting, Mr. Geoffrey,¡± Esther remarked. ¡°It¡¯s based on a recurring dream I¡¯ve been having,¡± Geoffrey explained. ¡°It reminds me of something,¡± Joey said thoughtfully. ¡°What will you call it?¡± Esther asked. ¡°I haven¡¯t decided yet,¡± Geoffrey admitted. ¡°Still thinking about it.¡± After a brief pause, Joey cleared his throat. ¡°Jeff, we were hoping you could help with our investigation.¡± ¡°What can I do?¡± Geoffrey asked. ¡°I was hoping you¡¯d let us take a look around. We could see the animals, go to the lake, and you can share your unique insight as a local rancher.¡± ¡°Of course, of course. Have you ever seen a vacuuming parlor, Professor Lincoln?¡± ¡°No, I haven¡¯t.¡± ¡°Well then, why don¡¯t I give you a tour? As a producer, I care about the lake¡¯s herds just as much as anyone. I¡¯d be happy to show you around and answer any questions.¡± Esther smiled. ¡°That would be wonderful.¡± ¡°I have to say that I have never had the official tour of your estate myself,¡± teased Joey. ¡°Nonsense, Joey! You¡¯ve been here plenty of times. This estate wouldn¡¯t even have been possible without your late father¡¯s help¡ªmay he rest in peace.¡± Geoffrey turned to Professor Lincoln, smiling. ¡°You see, Joey and I were schoolmates. I was the poorest kid around, and Joey, well, he was the richest. His father was one of the biggest ranchers on the lake. I always wanted to start a herd, but no one would lend me the capital. Joey¡¯s father was the only one who believed in me. He gave me my start.¡± ¡°Pops had a kind heart,¡± Joey said, nodding. ¡°He loved helping people with potential.¡± ¡°He sure did,¡± Geoffrey agreed, his voice softening with nostalgia. ¡°And don¡¯t let Joey fool you, Professor Lincoln¡ªyour escort here is one of the wealthiest men in town. He inherited quite a fortune,¡± Geoffrey added with a wink. They entered the vacuuming parlor. At the center of the large room stood a giant cylinder, surrounded by valves and pipes connecting it to the boilers in the next room. Men busily worked the machinery, attaching needles to the cylinder via thin hoses. Thirty dugongs stood patiently, seemingly unbothered as they were vacuumed. The noise was deafening, forcing Geoffrey to shout. ¡°So, the idea is to vacuum the blubber without causing the animals any pain! Those green needles over there contain a saline solution that enlarges the blubber, along with a local anesthetic. The men insert those needles into the plumpest parts¡ªusually the midsection. Then they use the red needles. Those are kept hot by steam to soften the fat and make it easier to vacuum. The heat also cauterizes the wound so the animals heal quickly.¡± Professor Lincoln leaned in, shouting over the noise. ¡°Do they feel any discomfort? Any side effects?¡± ¡°No, no! It¡¯s no more uncomfortable than a cow being milked. We take animal rights seriously. The blubber doesn¡¯t do much for their insulation; it¡¯s mainly for buoyancy. We take just a small percentage of the blubber to avoid affecting their ability to swim.¡± ¡°And how often can you vacuum them?¡± she asked. ¡°In a bad year, we can do it three times. In a good year, maybe six. On average, we get five barrels of oil per dugong annually. That¡¯s about 750 liters per year, per animal.¡± As they moved closer to the platform, one of the bulls was being vacuumed. The animal stood still, seemingly content. Professor Lincoln reached out and petted its snout, earning a relaxed snort from the creature. ¡°They¡¯re harmless,¡± Geoffrey said with a smile. ¡°Incredible animals.¡± ¡°It¡¯s my first time seeing one up close,¡± Esther remarked. ¡°They¡¯re enormous!¡± ¡°Adults can grow up to three meters long and weigh five hundred kilos. Dugongs are the smallest sirenians, though. We can also handle manatees and even balatees in these facilities. Let¡¯s go outside¡ªit¡¯s quieter out there.¡± Once they stepped outside, the silence was a relief. Geoffrey sighed dramatically. ¡°Great Ambyssus, it¡¯s deafening in there. That¡¯s why my office is soundproofed. Otherwise, I¡¯d lose my mind.¡± Joey noticed Esther frown slightly at the mention of ¡®Ambyssus,¡¯ the name that had been cropping up more frequently in recent days. Esther broke the silence. ¡°What happens to the oil after it¡¯s vacuumed?¡± ¡°We boil it slowly for two to three days to get the right viscosity, then send it to the refinery.¡± ¡°Fascinating,¡± she said. Joey cleared his throat. ¡°Jeff, can we show her how you manage the herds? We also need to get to the lake. That¡¯s the main reason we¡¯re here.¡± ¡°Of course, of course! I¡¯ll introduce you to Red, our chief herder. He¡¯ll show you the works.¡± As they made their way to the lake, they spotted Red. Geoffrey called out to him, and Red left his assistants, giving them quick instructions before joining the group. ¡°Red, you know Joey. Professor Lincoln, meet the finest herdsman on the lake.¡± ¡°Ma¡¯am. Constable,¡± Red greeted them with a nod. Geoffrey smiled. ¡°I¡¯ll leave you in Red¡¯s capable hands. Red, show them the herd and take them out in the Nautilus if they want. I have business to attend to.¡± ¡°Yes, boss.¡± Geoffrey turned back toward the vacuuming parlor, giving a brief wave. ¡°It was a pleasure meeting you, Professor. Enjoy your stay in New Lisbon.¡± ¡°Thank you, Mr. Geoffrey,¡± Esther said. Joey added, ¡°Thanks, Jeff.¡± As Geoffrey walked away, Joey noticed him casting one last glance over his shoulder, watching them as they spoke with Red. Back in his office, Geoffrey began pacing, his thoughts racing. The first part of his plan had gone well. He had been the first to hear about what was happening at the lake, thanks to Red. Joey¡¯s old man always said, "The early bird gets the worm." Knowledge was power, especially in business. His next move had been to use that foreknowledge to empty the oil reserves at the auction house, driving up prices. In just a week, the cost of a barrel had tripled, giving him an incredible return on his investment. But now, with Joey and the professor poking around, things were getting complicated. He could handle Joey, but the professor was a wildcard. How could he have overlooked the Science Academy sending someone? He needed to move quickly before they started meddling in his affairs. Ch. 10 - The Nautilus Red, a thin man in his fifties, had skin burned by the sun and carried the scent of water and earth. He removed his hat, revealing a bald head that gleamed in the muted sunlight. ¡°So, what can I do for you today?¡± His eyes fixed on Esther with a steady calm. ¡°I¡¯d like to start with a walk by the lakeside. Would that be all right?¡± ¡°Of course, ma¡¯am. Follow me.¡± Since the flood a week ago, the water had slowly receded, though the submerged trees and absence of a beach still whispered of the disaster. ¡°On the day of the flood, the water reached up to here.¡± Red pointed to a waterline stained into the bark of a tree, a silent witness to the chaos. ¡°The academy¡¯s preliminary report mentioned a change in the lake¡¯s salinity. Is that true?¡± Esther asked. ¡°Right, ma¡¯am. You should taste it¡ªfresh and sweet now. Let me fetch a glass¡ª¡± ¡°That won¡¯t be necessary, Mr. Reddington,¡± Esther replied crisply, setting down her bag. She began unpacking boxes, bottles, and tools with practiced precision, pulling out vials and reagents. While she worked, Joey cast a glance at Red. ¡°Red, has Jeff seemed... different to you lately?¡± ¡°Not my place to say, sir. I¡¯m just a humble herdsman.¡± Joey wasn¡¯t letting it go. ¡°Come on, Red. Between us. Something seemed off about him today.¡± Red hesitated, then sighed. ¡°If you say so. He¡¯s been more... single-minded than usual. Spending all his time at the estate. Haven¡¯t seen him go home in days. Sleeps in his office sometimes.¡± ¡°Not the Jeff I know,¡± Joey muttered, more to himself. Esther broke the silence. ¡°How peculiar.¡± ¡°What¡¯s that, ma¡¯am?¡± Red asked, stepping closer. ¡°No dead fish washing ashore?¡± Esther¡¯s voice carried a note of suspicion. Red chuckled. ¡°The flood didn¡¯t drown them, ma¡¯am.¡± ¡°But the drop in salinity might have. Some species can adapt, but others wouldn¡¯t survive the sudden change.¡± ¡°Well, the lake¡¯s calmed down quicker than expected. Maybe the fish swam to the ocean.¡± Red shrugged, but Esther¡¯s frown deepened. ¡°I see,¡± she said, her tone thoughtful. Esther glanced at the receding waterline. ¡°The newspaper said the last flood here was over a century ago?¡± ¡°Yes, ma¡¯am. Never seen anything like it.¡± ¡°Why don¡¯t we head to your herd now, Mr. Reddington? I¡¯d like to understand how they¡¯re faring in the aftermath.¡± ¡°Certainly. Follow me to the pen. We¡¯ll take the Nautilus out to graze.¡± ¡°How many animals live on this estate?¡± the professor asked, eyes scanning the vast lake ahead. ¡°We had three hundred until last week,¡± Red replied, taking off his hat to wipe his brow. His bald head gleamed in the sunlight. ¡°But with the crisis and the deals the boss has made with other producers, our herd has already tripled. We¡¯ve only had manatees so far, but now Mr. Geoffrey¡¯s expanding¡ªaccepting dugongs, balatees, even Stellers from out in the ocean. Can¡¯t hire herdsmen fast enough. We¡¯ve been working ''round the clock to handle all the newcomers.¡± ¡°And have the animals shown any signs of sickness or discomfort since the lake¡¯s conditions changed?¡± Esther inquired, her tone clinical but curious. ¡°No, ma¡¯am,¡± Red said, shaking his head. ¡°They¡¯re as relaxed as ever. No stress. This is the middle of their breeding cycle, and they haven¡¯t stopped. Animals tend to sense when it¡¯s not a good time to breed. The fact that they keep going¡ªthat¡¯s a good sign.¡± As they reached the shore, colorful buoys floated in the distance, marking the boundary of the penned herd. The water lapped gently at the beach, and every now and then, a manatee surfaced, took a deep breath, and slipped back beneath the surface with barely a ripple. ¡°Why the pens?¡± the professor asked, intrigued. ¡°Are there predators in the lake?¡± ¡°Nothing¡¯s gonna take down an adult, but sharks¡ªwell, they try their luck with the juveniles sometimes. You¡¯ll find ¡®em deeper in the lake. Bigger worry is cattle thieves. They try to snatch a beast or two now and then.¡± Red spat on the ground. ¡°But never on my watch.¡± The professor nodded. ¡°And their diet? What do they eat?¡± ¡°Sirenians are big on seagrass. They go through about forty kilograms a day, per animal. Near the coast, they like to munch on pond apples and nuts that drop into the water. When we can¡¯t take ¡®em out to graze, we feed them lettuce, apples, or whatever vegetables we¡¯ve got.¡± He pointed to a nearby boat where men were dumping apples into the pen. ¡°Good year for apples, so we¡¯re using them to supplement their diet.¡± ¡°I imagine the change in salinity was concerning, then?¡± ¡°At first, sure was. Seagrass needs salt. If this lake had turned fully fresh, we¡¯d be ruined.¡± Red¡¯s voice grew more serious. ¡°Lake Grassum¡¯s the best place in the world for cattle because of its brackish water. The salt, clear water, year-round sunlight¡ªit¡¯s what keeps the seagrass growing. But despite all the worries, it¡¯s still thriving.¡± The professor raised an eyebrow. ¡°How is that possible?¡± Red chuckled, glancing at Joey and then back at Esther. ¡°I¡¯d say you wouldn¡¯t believe me if I told you. Easier if I show you. Want to spend the day shepherding the herd with me?¡± Esther glanced at Joey, who gave a nod of approval. ¡°That would be lovely,¡± she said. ¡°Good, then. Let¡¯s hop in the Nautilus.¡± Red led them toward a floating pier. Unlike the others in the area, this one hadn¡¯t been submerged during the flood, thanks to Geoffrey¡¯s foresight. The roped-together platforms bobbed on the water, anchored to the lakebed. Joey and Esther stumbled slightly as they stepped onto the unsteady planks, but Red walked confidently, as if the pier were solid ground. ¡°There she is,¡± Red said with a grin, pointing to a sleek globe-shaped submarine. Its metal and wood frame shimmered in the sunlight, and two propellers hinted at how it maneuvered. A large window in the front promised passengers a perfect view, and lanterns on the hull were ready to light the lake¡¯s depths. ¡°Johnny!¡± Red called out to a nearby worker. ¡°Get the boys and the dolphins ready. We¡¯re heading out for the day.¡± Johnny waved and rushed to gather the crew. ¡°Ever been on a submarine dive?¡± Red asked as he opened the door for Esther. Joey nodded, but Esther shook her head. ¡°No worries, professor. It¡¯s like riding a boat. Plenty of room in Nautilus I¡ªit¡¯s the biggest one in the fleet.¡± Red helped Esther aboard, followed by Joey, who took a seat in the back. Red slid into the pilot¡¯s chair, with Esther sitting up front for a better view. ¡°Now, let me show you how this thing works.¡± Red gestured to the control panel. ¡°This here¡¯s the fuel gauge. Like trains and zeppelins, submarines run on sirenia oil. Here¡¯s the boiler and pressure valve¡ªmake sure pressure and temperature stay above the threshold. If anything goes wrong, we¡¯ve got manual pumps for the ballast tanks. We let water in to dive, push it out to rise. You can turn on the headlights here if you want to see something under the water.¡± The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation. Esther¡¯s gaze lingered on the instruments, fascinated. ¡°How do you keep the sirenians following you?¡± ¡°They¡¯re not the smartest creatures, but they know us and follow the subs. Still, we¡¯ve got help.¡± Red pulled a small brass whistle from his shirt and blew it. No sound came, but moments later, shadows passed the submarine¡¯s window, and a series of splashes followed. A pod of dolphins swam alongside the sub, their sleek bodies glistening as they leapt from the water. Esther¡¯s eyes widened. ¡°Shepherd dolphins!¡± ¡°That¡¯s right.¡± Red¡¯s voice softened with pride. ¡°We¡¯ve bred ¡®em right here in the lake. They¡¯re our best friends when it comes to guiding the herd. See the big one there? That¡¯s Sunny, the matriarch. And the one with the scar¡ªthat¡¯s Bay. Fought off a shark a while back.¡± ¡°Red¡¯s one of the best dolphin trainers around,¡± Joey added. ¡°That¡¯s why Jeff values him so much.¡± Esther¡¯s eyes gleamed with admiration. ¡°How do they handle the change in salinity?¡± Red glanced at the dolphins, watching them playfully dart around the submarine. ¡°Dolphins get skin problems if they¡¯re in freshwater too long, but as you can see, they¡¯re doin¡¯ just fine.¡± Red pushed the lever, and water rushed into the ballast tanks. The submarine began its descent, slipping smoothly beneath the surface of the lake. The world outside the Nautilus shifted into shades of blue as they submerged completely. ¡°Let me show you why.¡± Red picked up his brass whistle, blew a short sequence, and the pod of dolphins vanished from view. The signal had been sent¡ªthey were rounding up the herd. Esther leaned forward. ¡°How do the dolphins guide the herd exactly?¡± ¡°Sirenians have sharp hearing. The dolphins use their sonar and ultrasound to nudge them where they want. We¡¯ll be heading north today, far as we can. Good thing you got here early¡ªit¡¯ll give us enough time to be back before nightfall.¡± Red pushed another lever, and the propellers hummed to life, the submarine gliding forward through the water. As the tanks continued to fill, they fully submerged. One by one, dolphins darted ahead of the Nautilus, followed by the herd¡ªdugongs and manatees moving in a slow, graceful dance through the water. ¡°The lake¡¯s the best place to graze them. Clear, transparent water. Seagrass needs sunlight, and it gets plenty of that here.¡± Esther peered out the window, fascinated. ¡°Where will you take the herd to graze?¡± ¡°Wherever the grass is tall enough,¡± Red replied, his eyes scanning the lake. ¡°Seagrass only grows in shallow parts¡ªup to about 40 meters deep. Any deeper, and there¡¯s not enough light.¡± ¡°How much of the lake is that shallow?¡± she asked. ¡°Several kilometers near the shore. But out there,¡± he gestured toward the darker waters in the distance, ¡°it gets deep. Over a kilometer, from what I¡¯ve heard.¡± The herd swam peacefully, like a flock of birds in the sky, their massive bodies gliding past the windows on all sides. Joey watched them in awe. Wherever he and Esther looked, dugongs and manatees moved above, below, and around them, creating a living tapestry of motion. After an hour, Red slowed the submarine as they approached an underwater prairie¡ªa vast meadow of seagrass swaying gently in the current. ¡°What makes you decide where to stop?¡± Esther asked. Red nodded toward the grass, nearly six meters tall. ¡°When it¡¯s this height, it¡¯s ripe. Perfect for grazing.¡± ¡°I see,¡± she murmured, eyes widening as the vastness of the meadow revealed itself. ¡°We¡¯re here,¡± Red announced. ¡°The herd¡¯ll graze while we explore. There¡¯s something I want to show you.¡± He blew the whistle again, short and sharp, and the dolphins led the herd down to feast on the seagrass. Red began filling more of the tanks, carefully maneuvering the Nautilus into position. ¡°We need to go deeper to see this properly. It only works from certain angles... let me adjust.¡± The submarine spun and dipped as Red expertly adjusted their position. After a few moments, his face lit up. ¡°Look. Over there! Do you see it?¡± Esther leaned closer to the window. At first, it seemed like nothing¡ªjust the clear water around them¡ªbut then, she saw it. The water appeared to split in two, one half darker, the other clearer and lighter. ¡°It can¡¯t be... is that¡ª?¡± Esther¡¯s voice trailed off as her eyes widened. ¡°Let¡¯s cross it,¡± Red said with a grin. He guided the Nautilus forward, and as they passed through, Joey felt a strange resistance, as if they were breaking the surface of the water despite being fully submerged. ¡°A halocline!¡± Esther exclaimed. Joey frowned. ¡°What¡¯s that?¡± Esther turned to him, her excitement palpable. ¡°It¡¯s when water forms layers¡ªlike oil and water not mixing. Only here, it¡¯s different types of water. The darker one must be saltier, and the clearer one¡¯s freshwater.¡± Joey watched as the dolphins surfaced to breathe, then dove back into the saltier water, where they seemed more comfortable. The dugongs, too, stuck close to the darker layer. It was eerie¡ªunnatural. ¡°But why don¡¯t they mix?¡± Joey asked. ¡°Isn¡¯t it all just water?¡± ¡°There are... forces at play,¡± Esther replied, pausing as she stared at the shifting layers. ¡°Temperature, salinity... those are the big ones.¡± ¡°But they¡¯ve always mixed before,¡± Joey pressed. ¡°Why not now?¡± Esther hesitated, her brow furrowing. ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± she admitted softly. Red brought them through a wide circle, searching the water. ¡°There! Do you see it, Professor?¡± Esther gasped. The cline they had crossed earlier had been a smooth, horizontal divide, but now it stretched and twisted, branching out in odd shapes. Darker water reached toward the surface, forming strange tunnels through the freshwater, like fingers clawing through the lake. ¡°That¡¯s... impossible,¡± Esther muttered. Her voice wavered, the scientist in her struggling to reconcile what she was seeing. ¡°Could it be a current?¡± Red asked, his tone hopeful. ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡± Esther shook her head, eyes fixed on the bizarre patterns. ¡°But this explains why there haven¡¯t been coastings of dead fish. The lake didn¡¯t lose its salt. Something¡¯s... reorganized it.¡± * For the rest of the day, Geoffrey welcomed fellow producers and representatives from the mayor¡¯s office, his mind always half-focused on the lake. Every so often, he found himself staring out toward the distant water, wondering what Joey and the Science Academy professor had uncovered. They¡¯d been out for hours now, and the waiting gnawed at him. After his ninth meeting of the day, Geoffrey called Debbie over. ¡°Sir?¡± ¡°Anyone else left to meet?¡± ¡°Three more, sir.¡± ¡°Did they make appointments?¡± ¡°They did not.¡± ¡°Tell them to come back tomorrow. I have a meeting to attend.¡± ¡°I¡¯ll take care of it, Mr. Geoffrey.¡± ¡°Thank you, Debbie.¡± It had been enough for one day. Geoffrey felt a surprising amount of relief as the afternoon wore on. Hosting these meetings had been critical to the next step of his plan, but now, it was mid-afternoon, and to be honest, he didn¡¯t want to be here when Joey and the professor returned. The thought of facing Joey filled him with an odd, uncomfortable dread. After all, Joey was one of his closest friends, yet he wasn¡¯t ready for that inevitable confrontation. Maybe he should sit Joey down and have a heart-to-heart. His mouth went dry. Anxiety prickled under his skin, heavy and suffocating. He reached for the jar filled with lake water and drank deeply, the cool liquid instantly refreshing him. Where was he... oh, right¡ªthe stables. He needed to get going. The next errand wasn¡¯t one to take the Mercury 3000 for¡ªit drew too much attention. Besides, it wouldn¡¯t hurt if people thought he hadn¡¯t left the office. He made his way to the stables, where his horse, Avalanche, waited. The white stallion¡¯s coat gleamed in the fading light; a magnificent creature. Geoffrey ran a hand along its neck, whispering soothing words before mounting. The instant freedom of riding replaced the earlier tension, and he took off, galloping down the dusty road as the sun dipped lower in the sky. Workers from the surrounding ranches were finishing their shifts, many making their way toward the Beluga Tavern. Geoffrey had been coming to the tavern every night this past week, ordering cider and quietly gauging the morale of workers from the competing estates. Beneath the surface of City Hall and the Producers Union¡¯s show of unity, Geoffrey knew the numbers told a darker story. The situation was dire. The cost of getting the vacuum parlors operational again was staggering, and Geoffrey¡¯s tactic of outbidding for engineers¡ªjacking up the prices¡ªhad only worsened things for the others. And now, even if there were no more floods in their lifetimes, new legislation was imminent, forcing producers to move facilities to higher ground. Everything was more expensive, especially with rising energy prices. The bills were overwhelming. But the real blow was the deal they¡¯d signed with Geoffrey. On the surface, it had seemed like a fair agreement¡ªsafe, legal. Yet, Geoffrey had made sure the contract was airtight in his favor. Many had assumed the animals brought to the estate would stay there to fatten up for vacuuming. Too late, they¡¯d realized their mistake: they were responsible for fattening the stock themselves before sending them to Geoffrey. He got paid in prime, fattened stock while they were left to bear the burden. In a week, Geoffrey had amassed a quarter of the cattle in the lake, effectively controlling twenty percent of the herd. The other producers? Bleeding losses. Now, as they lost money and scrambled to meet rising costs, Geoffrey¡¯s next move hinged on the discontent brewing in the tavern. He knew it was only a matter of time before tensions reached a breaking point. Inside the tavern, the usual din of conversation filled the air, but Geoffrey¡¯s attention was drawn to an argument at a nearby table. ¡°Hilton, calm down, man,¡± one man said, trying to pacify the red-faced craftsman. ¡°Don¡¯t tell me to calm down, Jonah! You¡¯re not the one who had your salary cut in half!¡± Hilton spat, his voice shaking with fury. Geoffrey¡¯s interest piqued. He recognized the man from somewhere. Calling over one of the tavern girls, he pulled a shilling from his pocket. ¡°Can I get you anything else, sir?¡± she asked, eyeing him with suspicion. He was dressed as a beggar, a far cry from his usual appearance. ¡°No, thank you,¡± Geoffrey replied smoothly. ¡°But I could use some information.¡± He held up the coin, letting it glint in the low light. ¡°Interested?¡± The girl hesitated, then nodded cautiously. ¡°As long as it¡¯s nothing weird.¡± ¡°That man,¡± Geoffrey said, nodding toward Hilton. ¡°The one yelling. Who is he?¡± She glanced over, then returned her gaze to Geoffrey. ¡°That¡¯s Peter Hilton.¡± The name clicked. ¡°Does he work around here?¡± ¡°He¡¯s one of the best baleen craftsmen in the region.¡± Of course. Peter Hilton. Geoffrey now remembered old Red calling him ¡°Stinky Pete.¡± The connection fell into place. Hilton was exactly who Geoffrey needed next. ¡°Call him over,¡± Geoffrey said, slipping the shilling into her hand. ¡°Tell him I¡¯ve got a business proposition for him.¡± Ch. 11 - The Cerberus The waitress eyed the silver coin Geoffrey had given her, turning it over in her hand as if testing its weight and authenticity. Satisfied, she walked over to Peter Hilton. Geoffrey leaned back into the shadows, watching as the waitress spoke to Hilton and gestured toward him. Peter excused himself from his group and made his way over to Geoffrey''s table, sitting down with a calm, steady presence. From what Red had told him, Geoffrey knew this man wouldn¡¯t come cheap, but the price would be worth it. Peter Hilton was one of the most renowned balatee stockmen on the lake. After whales went extinct, their valuable baleen¡ªrigid yet flexible whiskers used to filter plankton¡ªhad become a scarce and highly sought resource. With the world desperate for substitutes, and synthetic alternatives banned by the Science Academy due to environmental concerns, the balatees¡ªrelatives of the dugong¡ªhad become the new source for baleen. Balatees were massive creatures, reaching up to eight meters and weighing several tons. Though their blubber wasn¡¯t optimal for sirenia oil, the whiskers in their mouths could be harvested, just like baleen from whales. Geoffrey had no experience with balatees. His herd had always been dugongs, and the sensitive nature of balatees meant their care required special expertise. Peter Hilton, known for his skill in managing the delicate creatures, was exactly the asset Geoffrey needed to bring into his fold. Peter was taller than Geoffrey, with a square face and a large forehead. His expression was stoic, betraying little emotion, though his eyes reflected a sharp intelligence. He waited patiently, his calm demeanor giving nothing away. Geoffrey, assessing the man up close, finally decided to begin. ¡°How¡¯s work?¡± Geoffrey asked, probing with deliberate casualness. Peter¡¯s expression faltered, a flicker of discomfort crossing his face. The question had landed. But, just as quickly, Peter regained his composure, the signs of experience and resilience reasserting themselves. ¡°Work¡¯s been... slow,¡± Peter admitted, his tone measured. ¡°Tough times. But I¡¯m good at what I do. Something will come along.¡± Geoffrey leaned forward slightly, his voice taking on a more conspiratorial tone. ¡°Maybe it already has.¡± Peter¡¯s eyes narrowed, showing he was listening intently. ¡°I¡¯m all ears.¡± ¡°I represent a businessman who¡¯s been expanding his operations.¡± Geoffrey slid a card across the table, emblazoned with his estate¡¯s symbol. Peter¡¯s eyes widened slightly, recognition flashing in them. Geoffrey could see the gears turning as Peter considered the offer. ¡°He¡¯d like to invite you for a meeting,¡± Geoffrey continued. ¡°A job interview, if you will. Tomorrow, at the estate.¡± Peter picked up the card, examining it for a moment before looking back at Geoffrey. ¡°I thought Mr. Geoffrey only dealt in dugongs. I work with balatees.¡± ¡°Your expertise is exactly why we¡¯re reaching out. We¡¯re expanding into balatee husbandry, and we need someone who knows how to handle the specifics¡ªlike you.¡± Peter remained silent for a moment, the weight of the offer sinking in. ¡°And the compensation?¡± he asked, keeping his voice neutral. Geoffrey allowed a small, knowing smile. ¡°More than appropriate for someone of your talents. You won¡¯t be disappointed.¡± Peter nodded, his expression thoughtful. ¡°I¡¯ll think about it.¡± Geoffrey sensed the man¡¯s hesitation and decided to press just a little further. ¡°One more thing.¡± ¡°Yes?¡± ¡°Do you know anyone else in your circle who might be feeling... underwhelmed by their current working conditions? Anyone particularly skilled who might want a change?¡± Peter¡¯s gaze sharpened, and Geoffrey could almost see the connections forming in the man¡¯s mind. He knew how to plant the seed of doubt, how to make Peter reconsider his loyalty to his current situation. Peter would walk away with the offer spinning in his head, and by morning, Geoffrey was sure he¡¯d be at the estate. ¡°I might,¡± Peter said after a pause, his voice cautious but intrigued. ¡°Good,¡± Geoffrey replied, leaning back into his chair. ¡°Bring them along. We¡¯ll take care of you.¡± Peter stood, tucking the card into his pocket. Without another word, he turned and walked back to his group, but Geoffrey knew the conversation wasn¡¯t over. Tomorrow would bring the answer he was looking for. * The day had passed in a blur of exploration, and though Professor Esther had repeatedly asked for "just five more minutes" to continue her research in the lake, Red eventually made the call to head back. The sea cows, their bellies full of seagrass, followed the dolphins and the submarine back to the shore, likely expecting dessert in the form of juicy apples. Joey had gone from not knowing what a cline was to becoming a near-expert in just a day. He¡¯d seen all sorts of them through the submarine¡¯s windows: pillars of saltwater rising to the surface, root-like patterns of freshwater cutting through the deeper layers, and stratifications that didn¡¯t seem to follow any logical order. Fish stayed in their respective layers, saltwater dwellers keeping to their boundary while dolphins and dugongs freely moved between the two. It baffled Joey that all of this could exist in the same lake, water but not mixing. Esther, however, had spent the day deep in thought, theorizing about chemoclines, haloclines, and all the other types she could recall. He noticed her fidgeting, her foot tapping restlessly as her mind raced. ¡°So,¡± Joey ventured, breaking the silence. ¡°If there are all these types of clines, that means there must be a logical explanation for this, right?¡± ¡°This isn¡¯t my first time seeing clines,¡± Esther replied, her voice distant. ¡°But this... this is chaos. I¡¯ve never seen anything like it.¡± ¡°What should it look like?¡± ¡°Normally, it would be horizontal, like layers of oil and water. I¡¯ve seen it in underwater caves¡ªsaltwater sinks, freshwater stays on top. That¡¯s what most of the lake showed us today.¡± Joey nodded. ¡°And the vertical ones?¡± ¡°Those are rarer. You see them where rivers meet, or where river water meets the sea. But today... we saw both. And more.¡± ¡°So, it¡¯s normal?¡± Joey asked, trying to reassure himself. Esther shook her head. ¡°No, Joey. It¡¯s not. Seeing so many different patterns, all close together? It doesn¡¯t make sense. Especially the root-like shapes. Or the pillars. There¡¯s no logic behind them.¡± Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings. Joey glanced out the window as the Nautilus coasted toward the shore, the sunset casting a golden hue across the lake. Red was already stepping out of the submarine, his movements fluid and confident, despite his age. Joey felt a sense of relief as his feet touched dry land. ¡°Thanks, Red. We appreciate you letting us tag along today,¡± Joey said. ¡°Don¡¯t mention it,¡± Red replied with a nod. ¡°We all want what¡¯s best for the town.¡± Esther, lost in thought, barely registered the exchange. Joey could see the fatigue weighing on her. He turned to her, sensing it was time to head back. ¡°Shall we go, Professor?¡± She blinked, as if awaking from a trance. ¡°Yes, of course. Thank you, Mr. Red.¡± They made their way to the locomotive, and soon the rhythmic clickety-clack of the wheels filled the air as they journeyed through the woods toward the city. ¡°So, professor,¡± Joey prompted, ¡°is this the part where we exchange theories?¡± Esther gave a slight smile. ¡°I suppose so. Any thoughts?¡± ¡°I was hoping you¡¯d go first.¡± Esther reached into her rucksack, pulling out an old newspaper. She handed it to Joey, who looked at the headline: ¡°Green Comet Sighted by Observatory.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t follow. I read about this. Something about good wine this year. What does that have to do with anything?¡± ¡°Do you know the difference between a meteor and a comet, Constable?¡± Joey shrugged. ¡°Not really. Aren¡¯t they the same thing?¡± ¡°Not quite. Meteors are pulled into the Earth¡¯s atmosphere and, if they¡¯re big enough, they make it to the surface. Comets, on the other hand, pass by without entering the atmosphere.¡± Joey frowned. ¡°So what are you getting at?¡± Esther¡¯s eyes narrowed. ¡°What if this wasn¡¯t a comet? What if it was a meteorite, and it crashed into the lake?¡± Joey blinked, processing the idea. ¡°You mean the flood was caused by a meteorite? Like when you get in a bathtub and the water overflows?¡± ¡°Exactly.¡± ¡°But... wouldn¡¯t the meteorite have to be huge to displace that much water?¡± Esther nodded. ¡°Lake Grassum is roughly ninety thousand square kilometers, and the water rose by a full meter. The meteorite would need to be the size of a mountain to cause that kind of displacement.¡± Joey¡¯s eyes widened. ¡°But wouldn¡¯t we have noticed? I mean, something that big...¡± ¡°That¡¯s the problem,¡± Esther said quietly. ¡°If something that size fell into the lake, the impact would¡¯ve wiped out everything for thousands of kilometers. We wouldn¡¯t be here.¡± Joey felt a chill run down his spine. ¡°So... it¡¯s not possible.¡± Esther sighed. ¡°It seems unlikely. But it¡¯s still too much of a coincidence. Something happened that day.¡± Joey nodded slowly, pulling out his notepad. ¡°I¡¯ll send letters to the coastal towns, see if anyone saw anything fall.¡± ¡°That¡¯s a good start,¡± Esther agreed. ¡°If it broke apart before impact, smaller fragments might¡¯ve fallen without causing mass destruction.¡± ¡°And what about the idea of an underwater volcanic eruption?¡± Joey asked, scratching his head. ¡°That¡¯s what most people think.¡± Esther tilted her head, considering. ¡°It¡¯s possible. But something this big should¡¯ve caused earthquakes, or at least visible signs like smoke or changes in the water¡¯s composition.¡± Joey pointed out, ¡°The water did change. The salinity, the clines...¡± ¡°True,¡± Esther admitted. ¡°But it feels... too organized. Like something planned this.¡± Joey shivered. He couldn¡¯t help but wonder what she meant by that. ¡°Joey,¡± Esther continued, her tone shifting, ¡°what do you make of all this? How is the city coping?¡± ¡°Well, it¡¯s been chaotic. People are panicking, buying up supplies. The mayor and the ranchers are trying to keep everyone calm, but the truth is, the situation is fragile. One flood in a lake, and it¡¯s like the whole country¡¯s unraveling.¡± Esther nodded. ¡°And what about Mr. Geoffrey? You seem... suspicious of him.¡± Joey¡¯s heart skipped a beat. ¡°You caught that, huh?¡± Esther gave a knowing smile. ¡°You¡¯re not the first to use an emissary of the Science Academy for political maneuvering.¡± Joey sighed, rubbing his temples. ¡°It¡¯s not that. Geoffrey and I go way back. We went to school together. He was poor, came to class barefoot. Now, he¡¯s the hero who saved the town¡¯s oil supply.¡± ¡°And?¡± Joey hesitated. ¡°I don¡¯t know... something¡¯s off with him. I can¡¯t shake the feeling that he knows more than he¡¯s letting on. Maybe he¡¯s connected to the flood somehow.¡± Esther was quiet for a moment, her gaze steady. ¡°You¡¯re not crazy, Joey.¡± ¡°Why not?¡± he asked, surprised. ¡°Because I feel it too. Something¡¯s not right. Keep an eye on him. We¡¯ll figure this out.¡± * Deep beneath New Lisbon, in the labyrinth of sewers, lay a massive chamber. Its towering archways and vaulted ceilings gave it the appearance of an underground cathedral. Once a bustling hub for workers building the city¡¯s sewage system, the chamber had long been forgotten¡ªabandoned. What was once filled with the roar of steam machinery and the clamor of hundreds of laborers had now become the Black Merchant¡¯s secret lab. In the center of the chamber sat a young woman strapped to a cold, metal chair. She appeared to be in her mid-twenties, but her brown eyes, dull and unfocused, gave her the look of someone far older¡ªsomeone trapped. Her gray tunic resembled a hospital gown, and her shaved head only deepened the impression that she was a patient undergoing some terrible treatment. Half a helmet rested on her head, its thin metal rods protruding like the spikes of a hedgehog, trembling with a life of their own. The contraption above her¡ªhanging from a delicate metal crane¡ªmimicked the movements of her headpiece as if the two were connected in some fragile, grotesque dance. Behind her, the machine loomed a titanic structure that filled the chamber with its endless gears and pistons. Some cogwheels were as large as houses, others as small as acorns, all turning with an eerie, hypnotic precision. Steam hissed, jets shrieked, and the entire apparatus hummed with a life of its own. Minutes earlier, an intruder had arrived. He had triggered an alarm yet evaded every booby trap guarding the lab. Dressed in a business suit, with curly blonde hair, he had moved through the chamber with his eyes closed as if sleepwalking. Now, standing beside the young woman, he gently lifted a water skin to her lips, helping her drink. As the lake water passed her lips, a brief flicker of recognition crossed her face, and she closed her eyes as if in sleep. Satisfied, the sleepwalker dropped the water skin, turned, and silently exited the lab. On his way out, he tripped on the same wire that had triggered the alarm but continued walking with serene grace, disappearing into the shadows. The last glimpse of him was the brief shimmer of light reflecting off his silver pocket watch before he vanished into the depths. No more than thirty seconds later, another figure rushed into the lab. Cloaked in shadow, the man moved with determined stealth, rifle in hand. His heavy steps betrayed his urgency despite his attempts at caution. Darting from shadow to shadow, he advanced through the chamber, always keeping his back to the massive machine, his eyes scanning for any sign of the intruder. Reaching an aperture in the machinery, the man pressed his ear to the humming metal. What sounded like mechanical noise to others was, to him, a familiar song filled with meaning. This machine was his creation¡ªhe knew its every whisper, every tick. After a few moments, he relaxed. The hum told him the truth: the machine hadn¡¯t been tampered with, and the intruder had not hidden within it. Smart. Hiding inside the machine would have been suicide. Confident now, the Black Merchant sidestepped toward the control console, keeping his rifle raised. He resisted the growing urge to rush to his daughter¡¯s side. Not yet. The intruder could still be nearby. His mind raced as he processed the implications. No one should have known this place existed. He had made sure of that. After several tense moments, he reached the console, pushed a button, and a strip of paper emerged. Balancing the rifle in one hand, he ran his fingers over the punctured holes in the paper, reading them with practiced ease. The lab had been breached nine minutes ago, and the intruder had left four minutes later. None of the traps had been triggered. ¡°No need for all thessse theatricss...¡± A voice hissed from the shadows. Arsurius froze. The voice¡ªfamiliar, yet strange¡ªhit him like a blow. His heart twisted. It was his daughter¡¯s voice, yet... wrong. The accent was unfamiliar, sibilant. His eyes filled with tears. He turned toward the chair, abandoning all caution. ¡°Miriam?¡± His voice cracked as he ran toward her. But the figure in the chair was not the daughter he knew. Her expression¡ªalien, cold¡ªstopped him in his tracks. His blood ran cold. ¡°Who... how?¡± he stammered, his heart pounding. ¡°M-m-Miriam?¡± The woman¡¯s lips curled into a twisted smile. ¡°You were a difficult man to find, Arssuriuss...¡± Ch. 12 - The Game Arthurius gulped when he heard his name. "It¡¯ss not every day I¡¯m impresssed. You¡¯re the wealssiesst man in the country... neigh... the world, without anyone wissser." The black merchant¡¯s heart raced. No one alive should know his name, much less about Miriam. His most secret safe house had been found, and now this stranger knew of his daughter. He felt exposed, vulnerable. He had mastered the art of disarming his enemies with information, but this was different. Whoever this was, they were his equal. He took a deep breath, steadying himself. A ruler of the underworld didn¡¯t lose composure. "Relaxss. My agent¡¯ss long gone. I¡¯m merely introducing mysself¡­ through Miriam. Sssweet, sssweet Miriam." Arthurius forced his expression to remain neutral. His daughter had been brain-dead for over a decade¡ªunresponsive, silent. "How are you doing this?" His voice was strained. "You and I, we¡¯re puppet-masssterss. We pull ssstringss from the shadows. My ssstringss are ssspecial. I can connect my mind to hersss..." The voice paused, considering. "Like a chain linking two gearsss on a byssicle." Arthurius saw no chains or strings. Only a skin bottle spilled on the floor. A drug, perhaps? He¡¯d need to consult a poison master later. ¡°With all your technology, thisss...¡± Miriam¡¯s eyes rolled toward the Cerberus, ¡°isss a fine brain prossthessis." Only her eyes moved. Her head remained strapped to the chair, making the scene even more unnerving. Arthurius had seen horrors in his life, but this¡ªthis sent a chill down his spine. "Am I close to success?" Arthurius probed. "That dependsss on how you play our game." "What game? Who are you?" "I told you. I¡¯m a fellow puppeteer. A new player in town. I arrived with nothing, and now I¡¯m a millionaire under your nossse. It wasss easssy." Bold words. Arthurius was irritated. He kept tabs on everything that happened in his territory. No new figure had risen in the underworld¡ªat least, none his network had detected. This made him uneasy. Could this stranger be playing outside the shadows, perhaps in the open markets? The recent collapse in the oil market crossed his mind. He kept his face blank. "What game are we playing?" he asked, his voice steady. "A game for your daughter¡¯s life." Arthurius froze. Every crime, every scheme, every lie had been for her¡ªto hold her, speak to her again. The Cerberus project was promising, but incomplete. This might be his only chance. "State your terms." ¡°Sssimple. First to make a hundred billion crowns wins.¡± A hundred billion crowns. Arthurius did a quick calculation¡ªhis wealth was roughly half that. "Does our current wealth count?" "Yesss." So, I have a head start, he thought. My opponent is confident. "If I win, you¡¯ll heal her?" "Yesss." "And if you win?" "You become my butler." "Butler?" The word was absurd. Arthurius ruled the underworld. Politicians, criminals, and law enforcement danced to his whims. Now this upstart wanted him as a servant? "Yesss. A retired old one like me could ussse a butler." Retired? Arthurius narrowed his eyes. Was this a misdirection? "What are the rules?" Miriam smiled¡ªa smile Arthurius hadn¡¯t seen in years. It should¡¯ve warmed him, but it only chilled him further. "We can only ussse puppetsss. No direct intervention. First to a hundred billion crowns wins. Or, if you find my lair, as I found yoursss, you win." He was given every advantage¡ªa head start, multiple win conditions. He wasn¡¯t restricted from using violence or any other method. His opponent was confident, too confident. "Why are you doing this?" Miriam¡¯s eyes began to glaze over. As the connection faded, the voice whispered one last time. "Because it¡¯sss fun." * It had been weeks since Joey last visited his mother. The lake incident had kept him busy, but he knew that wasn¡¯t the real reason for his absence. It was hard for Joey to see her. Every visit, she was a little older, a little more lost. Watching her mind fracture was unbearable. At the hospice, they gave their names at the reception. A short doctor with thick spectacles approached, walking with small, deliberate steps. Joey suspected the doctor took two steps for every one of his. ¡°Good morning, Joey. Hello, Marie,¡± the doctor greeted them warmly before turning to Molly. ¡°And who is this? Your sister, Constable Joseph?¡± ¡°No! I¡¯m not Daddy¡¯s sister! I¡¯m his daughter!¡± Molly giggled. ¡°Ah, my mistake. I thought you were forty already,¡± the doctor teased, making her laugh harder. ¡°How¡¯s she doing, Doc?¡± Joey asked, his tone serious. The doctor¡¯s smile faded. ¡°Joey, you know there¡¯s nothing we can do but wait. The damage from the poison... it continues to ravage her mind and body.¡± Joey squeezed Marie¡¯s hand, and she squeezed back, offering silent support. Sensing her father¡¯s distress, Molly hugged his leg. Joey noticed the doctor hesitated, as if holding something back. This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon. ¡°What else, Doctor? Is everything alright with my mother?¡± The doctor cleared his throat. ¡°Since your last visit, she and the other patients have been experiencing... collective hallucinations.¡± ¡°Collective hallucinations?¡± Marie asked. ¡°In mental institutions, it¡¯s not uncommon for patients to fixate on the same idea, person, or object. This has been happening here for a few days. It¡¯s rare, and we¡¯ve contacted the Psychiatric Society to document it. When you see your mother today, she might ramble. Please, try to ignore it. It¡¯s... just the illness talking.¡± ¡°Mommy, is Grandma okay?¡± Marie knelt beside Molly. ¡°Grandma¡¯s very sick, sweetie. But don¡¯t worry, once you show her your drawing, she¡¯ll feel better.¡± ¡°Where is she?¡± Joey asked. ¡°Near the fountain, with the others.¡± The hospice was a cluster of buildings with a garden at its center. The greenery was meant to soothe troubled minds. Joey could hear the fountain¡¯s gentle flow from a distance, its clockwork jets spouting water in rhythmic bursts. As they approached, Joey spotted his mother seated in a wheelchair under the sun, her gaze fixed on the fountain. He took her frail hand. ¡°Ma, it¡¯s me. Joey.¡± She didn¡¯t look at him, but her grip tightened. Joey¡¯s heart sank. ¡°I brought Marie and Molly. Your granddaughter.¡± On cue, Molly climbed onto her grandmother¡¯s lap, chatting excitedly about school and showing off a drawing she¡¯d made of them together. Joey¡¯s mother didn¡¯t shift her gaze from the fountain, but her expression softened. ¡°Grandma, tell me a story,¡± Molly asked eagerly. Joey stepped forward to explain that his mother couldn¡¯t speak, not anymore. ¡°Certainly, my dear,¡± his mother replied. Joey froze. He hadn¡¯t heard her voice in years, let alone stringing together full sentences. He exchanged a stunned glance with Marie. ¡°Once upon a time, there was a world¡ªa vast world, far bigger than Earth. It was covered in water, and in it lived a mischievous creature...¡± Joey¡¯s mother hesitated, then corrected herself. ¡°No, not a creature. The water itself. Or perhaps... an eye? It was a clever, beautiful being with a knack for making trouble and amassing wealth.¡± Joey stood dumbfounded. His mother, who had struggled to speak for so long, was now spinning such a wild tale. ¡°After centuries of legitimate business practices, the creature became the wealthiest being in its world. But it wasn¡¯t satisfied. A neighbor¡¯s silver is more precious than one¡¯s gold. So it set off for the stars, amassing treasures from distant planets: rubies from Antillaris, emeralds from Sirius, pearls from Omax. At one point, it was so rich, it bought a planet and built two moons¡ªone of solid gold, the other pure sapphire.¡± Joey¡¯s mother smiled faintly as she continued. ¡°But jealousy is a powerful thing. Forced to flee from authorities, the creature realized something: the journey brought more joy than the destination. The game, not the prize, filled its soul. So, it sought a distant world, unknown to the stars, to build one last empire and retire.¡± Molly clapped, delighted. ¡°Grandma, that was the best story! No one tells it like you.¡± Marie, still puzzled, asked, ¡°Have you heard that story before?¡± ¡°Of course! It¡¯s the story of Ambyssus!¡± Molly said. Joey¡¯s heart skipped a beat. ¡°Ambyssus?¡± ¡°Yes! All my friends know the story.¡± Joey frowned. He hadn¡¯t heard it until a few days ago, yet now it was everywhere. ¡°It¡¯s not the first time I hear that name this week.¡± ¡°I¡¯ve been hearing it, too,¡± Marie said. ¡°It¡¯s odd, though, isn¡¯t it? A word no one knew before is suddenly on everyone¡¯s lips,¡± Joey commented. ¡°Kids spread things fast,¡± Marie said. ¡°Maybe one of them mentioned it to a patient, and it caught on.¡± Joey paused, his detective instincts kicking in. The sound of conversations around him felt louder than usual. Families were talking with their loved ones, but the patients... they were all speaking of Ambyssus. ¡°I heard Ambyssus can see from kilometers away!¡± an old man whispered to his grandchildren. ¡°I hear him singing by the fountain,¡± a young woman told her mother. ¡°I dreamed of Ambyssus last night. He congratulated me when I won at Domino,¡± a man boasted. Something was very wrong. How could a name spread so quickly? How could patients who were usually catatonic suddenly speak so much? His mind raced, connecting dots: the lake, the graffiti, Geoffrey¡¯s painting, the children at the train station. ¡°Do you think this has something to do with the lake?¡± Joey asked, testing his wife¡¯s reaction. Marie sighed. ¡°Joey, you¡¯re overthinking this. It¡¯s just a children¡¯s story, nothing more.¡± ¡°And a story told by mentally unstable people,¡± he added, uneasy. Marie gave him a look. ¡°You need to relax. You¡¯re talking crazy.¡± Joey rubbed his temples. Maybe she was right. Maybe he was seeing connections where there were none. ¡°Maybe you¡¯re right.¡± He forced himself to smile. ¡°Now, where should we go for lunch?¡± * Monday arrived, and the city slowly woke from its weekend slumber. The tension over rising inflation still hung in the air, worsened by soaring fuel prices. Steam-powered tractors drove agricultural work, factories depended on fuel to power their furnaces, and transportation relied heavily on sirenia. The only good news was that the lake¡¯s waters had receded, allowing producers to resume oil production, even if their facilities hadn¡¯t yet been fully restored. Joey waited for Esther in the hotel lounge. The d¨¦cor was tasteful¡ªglass-topped tables with white, carved metal legs gave the room an understated elegance. Chairs with gray and green cornucopia patterns added a subtle charm, while beige curtains framed walls adorned with paintings of Grassum Lake and the Aurum River. Through the window, Joey watched the city wake. People bustled outside, most headed to work. His gaze lingered on a bulky man with singed mustaches¡ªlikely a blacksmith¡ªand then on a cyclist with a rucksack. A locksmith, maybe. As Joey passed the time, a gleam of golden apple syrup caught his eye, dripping down a glorious stack of pancakes on a nearby table. It looked delicious, but when the waiter caught him staring and offered him a portion, Joey waved him off. ¡°No, thanks,¡± Joey said, forcing a polite smile. ¡°Good morning, Joey,¡± Esther greeted him as she approached. ¡°Morning, Professor. How was your Sunday? Got much reading done?¡± ¡°Enough to stay sharp. I trust you were able to rest?¡± ¡°Yes, ma¡¯am. You?¡± ¡°I can¡¯t say I did, no,¡± Esther replied, her tone calm but weary. Seeing her settle in, the waiter approached to take her order. Esther declined politely. ¡°Just the newspaper for me, thank you.¡± Joey raised an eyebrow. ¡°It¡¯s going to be a long day, Professor. Are you sure you don¡¯t want a proper breakfast?¡± Esther gave him a curious look. ¡°I thought you¡¯d noticed, Joey.¡± ¡°Noticed what?¡± ¡°You don¡¯t eat or drink anything that isn¡¯t prepared in front of you. I do the same.¡± Joey blinked, realizing she had been just as cautious. After a brief, awkward silence, Esther continued. ¡°Have you ever heard of dracunculiasis?¡± she asked. Joey shook his head. ¡°It¡¯s a parasitic infection,¡± she explained, her voice dropping. ¡°One of my first assignments as an academy emissary was to visit a town where the entire population had fallen ill. People developed blisters, and then... parasites crawled out. It was horrific.¡± Esther shuddered, her usual composure faltering. Joey felt a knot tighten in his stomach. ¡°There was no way to kill the parasite,¡± she continued. ¡°You had to keep the patient still while it painfully emerged, or it could die inside them, causing infection. People died horrible deaths. We eventually traced it back to contaminated water¡ªworms had laid their eggs in the town¡¯s water supply.¡± Esther paused, taking a steadying breath. ¡°One of my colleagues, Barry, wasn¡¯t careful enough. He died. Ever since, I can¡¯t stand to eat or drink anything unless I know it¡¯s safe. I boil water for fifteen minutes before drinking, and I always prepare my own food.¡± Joey¡¯s mind flashed back to his own experience. ¡°For me, it was my¡ª¡± ¡°It¡¯s alright, Joey. I know,¡± Esther interrupted gently. ¡°Everyone knows about Jebediah.¡± Joey sighed. What were the odds that both he and the professor shared such similar scars? Just then, the waiter returned with the newspaper, and Esther opened it, skimming the headlines. ¡°Anything interesting?¡± Joey asked, eager to change the subject. Esther¡¯s eyes narrowed slightly as she turned the paper toward him. ¡°I¡¯d say so. Do you recognize anyone here?¡± Joey¡¯s eyes scanned the headline: Local Hero Saves the World. Ch. 13 -The Camp Local Hero Saves Town In an inspiring tale of selflessness, a local rancher has single-handedly secured the town¡¯s economic stability through his precautionary foresight and charitable spirit. Geoffrey Ford was born in the slums, where he had to fend for himself as an impoverished youth. ¡°Those were tough times, dark times. I tell all the children I meet that every meal is a gift and that they should never take even the simplest things for granted.¡± Despite a rough start, Geoffrey climbed out of poverty, as he told the Herald in an exclusive interview. ¡°For me, the turning point was when Mr. Jebediah Jones started the Opportunity School. I couldn¡¯t believe I was allowed to enroll¡ªit opened my mind to everything I could do and truly changed my life.¡± Geoffrey¡¯s journey from poverty to prosperity is nothing short of remarkable. ¡°My first job was begging, believe it or not. Then, I got a newspaper route. From there, I did everything from sweeping chimneys to shining shoes and baking pies.¡± ¡°We appreciate Mr. Geoffrey¡¯s industriousness and precautionary measures,¡± said Mr. Finley, an aide to the mayor. ¡°The city thanks Mr. Geoffrey. He¡¯s a living reminder that every child of the city is a treasure that should be nurtured.¡± The professor placed the paper down, glancing at Joey¡¯s frown. ¡°What do you think?¡± she asked. ¡°You don¡¯t seem convinced by the praise?¡± Joey hesitated, considering his response. ¡°I want to believe he¡¯s a hero,¡± he began carefully. ¡°I¡¯ve known him since childhood, and my dad invested in his future. But maybe I¡¯m reading too much into things. There¡¯s no denying he¡¯s done great things for the city. I guess time will tell if he¡¯s really a hero. How about you, professor? Did your research turn up anything interesting?¡± The professor opened her notepad and slipped on her glasses as though beginning a lecture. ¡°Let¡¯s start with the more obvious findings. First, I can confirm that so many different types of clines appearing so close together is unheard of in nature.¡± ¡°Well, that was a given based on what you told me yesterday,¡± Joey replied. ¡°Right. But in addition, I researched meteorite compositions worldwide and found nothing that could explain the lake¡¯s sudden change in salinity.¡± ¡°Okay, so whatever this phenomenon is¡­ it¡¯s the first of its kind?¡± ¡°Exactly. I also used the university¡¯s lab to examine the lake samples more closely. I can confirm that ammonia levels haven¡¯t spiked.¡± ¡°Which means¡­?¡± Joey prompted, leaning in. ¡°It means nothing is dying in the lake. Usually, when there¡¯s a high death rate in water, bacteria breaking down the organisms produce ammonia. But here, levels are stable.¡± ¡°That fits with the fact that different creatures are sticking to distinct layers within the cline.¡± ¡°Right. However, it also suggests that the water rearrangement happened so suddenly and precisely that it didn¡¯t harm the ecosystem. In a shift of this magnitude, you¡¯d expect some casualties, at least. It¡¯s baffling. The odds of such a well-organized, massive change are infinitesimally small.¡± ¡°What about an underwater eruption?¡± ¡°No signs of sulfur compounds. We can rule that out.¡± A thoughtful silence followed. ¡°So, does this mean we have no leads?¡± The professor shook her head. ¡°The meteorite theory still seems the most plausible. It¡¯s too coincidental that a comet was sighted on the same day as the flood.¡± ¡°What¡¯s our next step, then?¡± ¡°It¡¯ll be a few days before we hear back from the surrounding towns. Our best lead is to wait for Dr. Link¡¯s ship to arrive.¡± ¡°Shall we head to the camp, then?¡± ¡°Let¡¯s go.¡± * Manors lined the clean, orderly streets, and a strong police presence ensured the area¡¯s tranquility. Geoffrey had come to Mr. Wilson¡¯s home in Rolling Hills, one of New Lisbon¡¯s wealthiest neighborhoods. Mr. Wilson stared Geoffrey down with piercing blue eyes. He dabbed at the sweat on his bald head with a handkerchief, his neatly trimmed mustache bristling as he regarded his guest. Age and weight gave him a round neck that bulged over his shirt collar, a sight that could unsettle the faint-hearted. Despite the older man¡¯s attempt to appear superior and aloof in his leather chair, Geoffrey saw through the act. Mr. Wilson was struggling to keep his head above water. Rumor had it he¡¯d recently thrown a fit at the bank after being denied a loan. And with his lawyer in the corner, Geoffrey suspected he wouldn¡¯t be easily baited into another one of his clever deals. ¡°Thank you for seeing me today, Mr. Wilson,¡± ¡°Congratulations on making the front page,¡± Mr. Wilson sneered. Geoffrey let the jab slide. ¡°Thank you. You know how newspapers are¡ªprone to exaggeration. You all are the real heroes if you ask me.¡± ¡°What do you want, Jeff?¡± Mr. Wilson asked, pouring himself a scotch and pointedly not offering any to Geoffrey. ¡°Here to rip me off again?¡± ¡°Rip you off? I don¡¯t know what you mean,¡± Geoffrey replied with genuine surprise. He was a practiced actor, a skill honed from years on the streets. Though he took no joy in deceiving others, he would need Mr. Wilson¡¯s trust to move forward. ¡°You know what I mean. Your little maneuver with the contract. You weren¡¯t fully honest with us.¡± ¡°It¡¯s a misunderstanding, Mr. Wilson. I assure you, I¡¯ve done nothing unlawful. Everyone had full access to the contract before signing, including you.¡± Mr. Wilson shot his lawyer a scathing look, causing the man to shrink in his chair. ¡°Just tell me what you want, Jeff. I have work to do.¡± ¡°Mr. Wilson, I know this year¡¯s been tough on everyone.¡± ¡°Everyone but you,¡± the old man snapped. ¡°On the contrary. While managing everyone else¡¯s cattle, my herds go unattended. I don¡¯t enjoy watching others struggle; it keeps me up at night.¡± Geoffrey¡¯s voice was sincere, and Mr. Wilson seemed briefly taken aback by his tone. ¡°Let me state my purpose for this visit,¡± Geoffrey continued. ¡°Since I¡¯ve been paid partly in sea cow stock, I need space to expand my pens.¡± ¡°So?¡± Wilson¡¯s anger resurfaced as Geoffrey brought up their previous dealings. ¡°I¡¯d like to buy part of your property¡ªspecifically, the land by the lakeshore.¡± This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon. Wilson¡¯s eyes narrowed. ¡°What¡¯s your angle, Jeff? You know the mayor won¡¯t let us keep facilities on the shore after the flood. That land¡¯s practically worthless to me now. Are you trying to cut me off from the lake?¡± ¡°Not at all. I need the extra space for my pens, and I¡¯m willing to pay in cash.¡± Mr. Wilson dabbed his head with the handkerchief again. Money was tight, and even with the mayor¡¯s aid, he was near bankruptcy. ¡°I¡¯m also open to having your lawyer draft an agreement that guarantees your lake access. You¡¯d only need to pay rent, like when rail companies pay for track rights.¡± ¡°What if I want to keep a small piece of the land with lake access?¡± ¡°Come on now, Mr. Wilson. I need all the space I can get, and you need the cash. To make a good offer, I need the whole lakefront portion. If you insist on keeping a piece, my offer will be less generous. Take it or leave it. I could always go to Wilkinson instead.¡± Mr. Wilson weighed his options, his mind turning. He needed cash urgently; the bank had refused him, and he was on the edge of losing everything. He didn¡¯t want to be a tenant, but options were running out. The mayor had given him as much help as he could, and no one else was lending. His lawyer gave an approving nod. With a resigned sigh, Mr. Wilson stood and extended his hand to Geoffrey. ¡°You¡¯ve got yourself a deal.¡± * Dr. Link¡¯s camp wasn¡¯t far from where they¡¯d visited yesterday. Though they called it a ¡®camp,¡¯ there were no tents; instead, the scientists had set up base in one of the old buildings at Wilkshire Port. This port was once a crucial stronghold, protecting the lake from pirates and ensuring the region¡¯s safety. Nowadays, it was kept in decent enough condition to deter pirates from returning but not so well-maintained as to drain the city hall¡¯s budget. Dr. Link¡¯s team had departed from here a few days earlier, promising to return by this morning. With no new leads, Joey and the professor decided to come early. Professor Lincoln, especially, was being received as if she were royalty. ¡°Can we get you anything else, Professor?¡± ¡°No, please treat me as a colleague and catch me up on your findings,¡± she replied. The professor¡¯s request for equal treatment seemed to send a ripple of excitement through the scientists, who looked nearly starstruck. Joey noticed more than one lab-coated figure inching closer to fainting. The emissaries of the Science Academy were not just respected; they were idolized. After an awkward pause, a brief debate ensued over who would have the honor of presenting to the professor. Finally, one of the scientists spoke up. ¡°Well, Professor, our team arrived as soon as we heard about the incident. One of our first priorities was to check the health of the lake¡¯s sirenians to see if the water changes had affected them.¡± ¡°And?¡± she prompted. ¡°The animals showed no signs of distress. At the same time, we ran every type of test we could think of on the water.¡± ¡°pH levels?¡± she asked. ¡°Normal.¡± ¡°What about minerals and metals?¡± ¡°All within standard parameters.¡± ¡°Nitrites and ammonia?¡± As Joey heard her ask about ¡®ammonia,¡¯ he remembered that the Professor had already mentioned he tested it earlier earlier, which worried him. She was scrambling. ¡°Normal, Professor.¡± ¡°Anything else worthy of note?¡± she pressed. ¡°When we took one of the ranchers¡¯ subs to explore, we found an unusual form of stratification,¡± the scientist continued. ¡°Clines,¡± the professor interjected. ¡°Yes, exactly.¡± ¡°Did you test the separate strata?¡± ¡°Yes, we did.¡± ¡°And...?¡± ¡°The only notable difference was in salinity¡ªsome strata are salty, while others are fresh.¡± Professor Lincoln drummed her fingers thoughtfully. The scientist continued, ¡°Dr. Link wanted to go deeper into the lake, to take samples at various depths and see if the composition of the different strata changes further down. He said he¡¯d be back today, regardless of what he found.¡± ¡°Good. In the meantime, have you tested the soil around the lake?¡± The scientists exchanged uneasy glances. ¡°No, we hadn¡¯t thought to¡­¡± ¡°What about other animals?¡± she pressed. ¡°We¡¯ve only examined the sea cows.¡± ¡°Then I need every type of creature from the lake quarantined. Brine shrimp, crabs, crayfish, mollies, alligators, sharks¡ªone of each species, especially carnivores. Toxins accumulate at higher levels in the food chain, so I want detailed reports on any abnormalities.¡± The scientists sprang into action, grabbing nets, fishing poles, and scurrying toward the small boats moored at the port. Meanwhile, Joey poured himself some coffee from a flask and settled in to wait for Dr. Link¡¯s return. They waited all morning¡ªand then all day. But Dr. Link never returned. * Geoffrey looked at the blank canvas before him and tried visualizing what he was about to paint. Today, he¡¯d woken up with a picture, a vision. It was a picture of a ship, cleanly cut into two, like a piece of butter cut by a scorching knife. It sank in the dark waters of the lake. The scene was empty, devoid of people, and he knew this detail was essential. Geoffrey¡¯s brush swept over the canvas, layering black paint for depth when a sudden commotion outside broke his concentration. ¡°¡­demand to see him!¡± ¡°I¡¯m sorry. I have to check if he¡¯s available.¡± Geoffrey set his brush down, his gaze shifting to the source of the noise. Although he had only occasionally greeted the man in passing, he recognized him immediately. ¡°Mr. Ezekiel. What seems to be the matter?¡± ¡°You!¡± Mr. Ezekiel marched up to him, his face contorted with anger. ¡°You poached all my best men! How dare you, Geoffrey?¡± He punctuated each word with a jab of his finger, his spit landing on Geoffrey¡¯s cheek as the confrontation teetered on the edge of physicality. ¡°Please, Mr. Ezekiel. Let¡¯s discuss this in my office.¡± ¡°I won¡¯t have it, Geoffrey! I raised some of those men from when they were boys. I taught them everything! And now you¡¯ve taken them all!¡± Mr. Ezekiel¡¯s voice rose louder with each accusation. Behind him, Geoffrey saw Debbie retreat, likely to find reinforcements from the estate staff. ¡°Mr. Ezekiel,¡± Geoffrey replied calmly, ¡°I¡¯m not sure why you¡¯re upset. Lately, many ranch hands have come to me, saying they¡¯ve had their salaries cut or been let go. They asked me for work. Should I let those men fend for themselves on the streets when there¡¯s work to be done here?¡± ¡°You sugarcoat your despicable acts, but you can¡¯t fool me! I have ears in the taverns, too, Geoffrey. I know about the ¡®mysterious¡¯ man offering outrageous salaries to lure my best workers!¡± ¡°Mr. Ezekiel,¡± Geoffrey said smoothly, ¡°I don¡¯t understand why this has you so upset. Why not simply hire more men?¡± ¡°You know as well as I do they¡¯re irreplaceable! Training new hands will take years. Without them, my estate is barely running at half-capacity!¡± By now, several estate workers had gathered nearby, ready to intervene if tempers flared further. ¡°I¡¯m sorry to hear about your troubles, Mr. Ezekiel. Why don¡¯t we sit down and discuss a solution?¡± Geoffrey gestured toward his office. ¡°I hope that solution includes returning my men and offering fair compensation!¡± Ezekiel shot back. ¡°Let¡¯s talk it over,¡± Geoffrey replied, maintaining his composure. ¡°But first, may I pour you a drink?¡± * Fabius leaned on his desk for support. The bad news brought by Joey had almost brought the commissioner to his knees. ¡°Did she stay behind in camp?¡± Joey sighed. ¡°Yes, sir. She took what was left of Dr. Link¡¯s crew to run an exploratory mission in one of the subs.¡± ¡°What on earth could have happened to that ship?¡± ¡°I don¡¯t know, sir. Should we organize a rescue operation?¡± Fabius looked unsettled, an expression Joey wasn¡¯t used to seeing on the usually composed commissioner. ¡°I don¡¯t know, Joey. It¡¯s bizarre. There hasn¡¯t been a shipwreck on this lake in decades, and the weather reports showed no signs of a storm or anything that might explain this. It¡¯s all so strange.¡± Joey swallowed hard. Seeing Fabius at a loss for answers was unsettling. The commissioner had always been confident, steady¡ªnever one to hesitate. ¡°So, what should we do?¡± Joey asked. ¡°For now, we need to keep this from spiraling into panic. I¡¯ll send word to the mayor¡¯s office. When the reporters come asking about Dr. Link¡¯s expedition, we¡¯ll shift their focus to the discoveries of those¡ªlines, was it?¡± ¡°Clines, sir.¡± Normally, Fabius would have given Joey a look for correcting him, but today, there was only a quiet, pensive nod. ¡°Clines. Talking about that will allow us to redirect attention away from the missing ship without lying. That should buy us time to figure out what happened to Dr. Link and his team.¡± Joey shifted uncomfortably in his seat, uneasy with the idea of keeping the truth from the public. But as he considered the potential for widespread chaos, he gave a resigned nod. ¡°What else, sir?¡± ¡°It¡¯s time we found out what¡¯s going on in the depths of that lake. I¡¯ve already made arrangements. Get the professor. The mayor has given us access to the Albatross.¡± Ch. 14 - The Albatross Joey and Esther arrived at the Aquil Airport. Fond memories flickered in Joey¡¯s mind, and he smiled, recalling his father taking him on a hot air balloon ride. They¡¯d floated over the lake estate, his father¡¯s steady hand on his shoulder, as Joey marveled at the glinting water and sprawling trees below. Back then, Joey had been eager to explore the unknown, dreaming of crossing borders, riding a Zeppelin, or diving deep underwater in a submarine. His father had gone to great lengths to make these dreams come true. ¡°Professor. Constable. It¡¯s an honor. The mayor has instructed me to assist you with whatever you need,¡± the director of the airport boomed, his voice matching his stout, towering frame. Joey grimaced, feeling as if he were being shouted at like an old man hard of hearing. ¡°Thank you, Director,¡± responded Esther, smiling. Joey noticed how the director leaned forward slightly; it was likely he was the one hard of hearing¡ªa hazard from years of flying. Joey raised his voice to match the volume. ¡°We were hoping you¡¯d take us as high as possible. We need the widest view of the lake we can get.¡± The director¡¯s eyes brightened. ¡°That means we¡¯ll take the Albatross.¡± Esther nodded with a pleasant smile. ¡°That¡¯s perfect, Director.¡± ¡°Follow me. The mayor¡¯s orders were to give you the best treatment, and I¡¯m the best pilot in the fleet.¡± The director¡¯s modest pride drew a grin from Joey as they followed him to the airship. ¡°Tell us about the Albatross, Captain,¡± Joey said, adjusting the title now that he knew the director would be flying them. ¡°It¡¯s one of our newest. She can reach about 15,000 feet.¡± Joey whistled, impressed. ¡°And her capacity?¡± ¡°Forty-two passengers.¡± Exiting the terminal, they reached the airstrip, where the director led them to a colossal hangar. He barked a few orders to the crew, and the bay doors rumbled open. Horses began pulling the Albatross from its shadowed lair into the sunlight, and Joey blinked, his gaze sweeping over the Albatross¡¯s massive hull. It was gigantic, dwarfing most of the city¡¯s buildings, and shaped like a sleek gray missile. ¡°Ain¡¯t she a beauty?¡± the director asked, his pride evident. ¡°Most certainly,¡± replied Esther. Joey, still dazzled, simply nodded, awestruck by the airship¡¯s towering size and elegance. As the takeoff preparations wrapped up, the captain brought Joey and Esther aboard the zeppelin, up a ladder and onto the gangways. As they ascended the latticed paths, Joey felt the metal creaking softly beneath their steps, each step drawing them deeper into the heart of the airship¡¯s intricate framework. ¡°What do you use to make the envelope?¡± Joey asked as they walked. The captain¡¯s booming voice drowned out part of his question. ¡°Yes. You¡¯re right. It¡¯s dope.¡± Esther couldn¡¯t hold back a giggle. ¡°No, no¡ªwhat fabric is the envelope made from?¡± The captain laughed. ¡°Ah! Goldbeater¡¯s skin.¡± Joey¡¯s eyebrows rose in surprise¡ªprocessed sirenian membrane. He wondered if any of his father¡¯s old sea cow herd might live on, in a way, aboard this vessel. Joey pointed at the giant containers flanking their path. ¡°And are those the fuel tanks?¡± ¡°You¡¯re welcome. It¡¯s a pleasure,¡± the captain responded with a grin. Esther stifled another laugh, and Joey shot her a bewildered look. ¡°I asked if those were the fuel tanks,¡± he repeated. The captain chuckled. ¡°Oh! No, no. Those are the gasbags. They give us lift.¡± As they walked along the gangways, the crew busily scurried around the structure, conducting final checks. The captain occasionally barked compliments or corrections. After what felt like a long trek, they reached the gondola. The captain opened the hatch, and they stepped inside. Joey took in the rich scent of the paneled wood and the bolted furniture. The captain led them through two large, polished, spacious rooms. ¡°These are the dining room and the saloon. The two largest compartments inside the gondola. This is where passengers dine, mingle, and chat.¡± On the port side, they were shown the reading and writing rooms, quieter spaces lined with books, and elegant desks. ¡°For when you want a little peace and quiet,¡± the captain explained. Finally, he led them to the sleeping cabins, located as far as possible from the engines to ensure a restful night. Joey¡¯s favorite feature, though, was the promenade, a corridor lined with inclined glass windows offering a breathtaking view of the ground below. The corridor circled the entire gondola, and he could see a crew member outside, carefully polishing the glass for an unobstructed view. Joey felt a thrill at the thought of seeing the lake from thousands of feet in the air. ¡°That¡¯s the whole tour. Make yourselves at home. If you¡¯ll excuse me, I need to get this baby off the ground.¡± The captain slipped through the same door they¡¯d entered, disappearing back along the gangways toward the navigation car in the bow. ¡°What do you think, Esther?¡± Joey asked, glancing around the zeppelin¡¯s spacious interior. ¡°It¡¯s an impressive vessel,¡± she replied, nodding. ¡°I¡¯d heard rumors, but I¡¯m glad we get to use it.¡± ¡°It¡¯s the biggest I¡¯ve been on,¡± Joey said, smiling. ¡°Same here.¡± Outside, the low rumble of the propellers signaled their imminent departure. The tethers loosened, and the zeppelin began its ascent. The floor hummed softly beneath their feet as the buoyant gasbags overcame gravity, lifting the Albatross smoothly into the air. ¡°So, what¡¯s the plan?¡± Joey asked, turning to Esther as they rose. ¡°From this height, clines should show up as shifts in the water¡¯s color. If there¡¯s a pattern we¡¯ve missed, this view might reveal it.¡± ¡°How long will that take us?¡± You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author. ¡°A week, give or take,¡± she said with a determined look. Joey nodded thoughtfully, glancing out over the vast lake below. ¡°Let¡¯s hope it pays off.¡± * ¡°As you can see, gentlemen, all our equipment is state-of-the-art.¡± Geoffrey gestured to the gleaming Nautilus and the rest of the submarine fleet. Each vessel had been meticulously polished, shining so brightly that some guests had to squint. In the distance, the resident dolphin pod added a festive touch, performing graceful acrobatics over the water¡¯s surface. ¡°Ooh. Impressive, Mr. Geoffrey. The submarines are well-maintained.¡± ¡°Such marvelous creatures.¡± As Geoffrey strolled through his estate, his entourage trailed behind him like students on a school outing. Merchants, ambassadors, and business tycoons. They were all exceptionally wealthy, and none shied away from risk. If they had, they wouldn¡¯t have dealings with pirates or dared to buy his oil under the table. Among the guests, Geoffrey counted ambassadors from thirteen nations, at least six hailing from the wealthiest countries. He noted Mary Oakland, the Railway Empress, who owned 70% of the railways. Cool as always, she surveyed the fleet with her trademark calm, unaffected by its grandeur. Next to her, Mr. Daniel, one of the planet¡¯s largest cotton magnates, stood chatting with Geoffrey¡¯s senior bank manager. Even an aide from the mayor¡¯s office had appeared¡ªa surprise addition. Yet Geoffrey felt only the faintest ripple of concern. The oil he¡¯d sold was untraceable. They were far too late. ¡°Before the Flood, we managed a herd of three hundred manatees,¡± Geoffrey explained. ¡°But after the disaster, many ranchers couldn¡¯t care for all their stock. To support them, I¡¯ve taken on part of their herds. We now own fifteen hundred manatees, twelve hundred dugongs, and five hundred balatees, not to mention a Stellar sea cow ranch on the Ash Islands. And this is only the beginning.¡± Geoffrey paused, letting the numbers sink in. ¡°Geoffrey Inc. owns nearly 10% of the global energy market!¡± His voice rose slightly as he delivered his pitch. ¡°We¡¯re expanding rapidly, and we need land, capital, and resources. If you¡¯re interested in the future of Geoffrey Inc., I invite you to invest. I guarantee a return of 10% in the next three months.¡± Surprised murmurs rippled through the crowd. Geoffrey watched the expressions of seasoned investors as they calculated potential returns. In the first phase of his plan, he¡¯d built a name in the black market and gained valuable allies. In the second, he¡¯d undermined his competition, increasing his appeal to potential backers. Now, all that remained was for them to take the bait. ¡°I hope you¡¯ve enjoyed the tour,¡± he concluded. ¡°If you wish to invest in Geoffrey Estates, please leave your information with Deborah. We¡¯re only accepting investments above two hundred thousand crowns, with a guaranteed 10% return over two years. Let¡¯s brighten the world together.¡± As the crowd dispersed, Geoffrey noted with satisfaction that one ambassador was already speaking with his secretary. ¡°Excuse me, Mr. Geoffrey?¡± Geoffrey turned to find the mayor¡¯s aide waiting with an unreadable expression. ¡°Hello! You¡¯re the mayor¡¯s aide, Mr. Finley, right?¡± ¡°Excellent memory, sir.¡± ¡°What business does the mayor have with my humble estate? Perhaps city hall is considering investing public funds?¡± ¡°No, I¡¯m here on my own.¡± On his own? Who is he working for, then? The aide¡¯s tone turned pointed. ¡°One of your... associates told me about your little operation. I¡¯d like to ask a few questions.¡± Geoffrey¡¯s stomach tightened. Did he know about his dealings with the pirates? ¡°Of course,¡± Geoffrey replied smoothly, maintaining a calm smile. ¡°You¡¯re promising a 10% return within three months, yes?¡± Finley asked. ¡°Yes, absolutely. My estate and livestock serve as collateral.¡± ¡°Suppose I invested five billion crowns,¡± the aide replied casually. Geoffrey¡¯s eyes widened, struggling to mask his shock. Five billion crowns¡ªthat sum could buy a country. ¡°I¡ª¡± ¡°Could you make it 20% within two months?¡± Geoffrey stood speechless. He hadn¡¯t anticipated anyone would be willing or able to invest on that scale. ¡°I-I¡¯m sorry. I can¡¯t promise that.¡± ¡°A shame. Well, I must be going.¡± Finley left, leaving Geoffrey grappling with a mix of disbelief and something close to envy. Just who was this man? How did he own so much wealth? Was he just messing with him? ¡°Mr. Geoffrey?¡± The familiar voice of Mary Oakwood pulled him back. She approached with her usual poise. Geoffrey had no choice but to push his shock aside. ¡°Mrs. Oakwood. What an honor to have you here. Please, go ahead with your questions.¡± * Five days of flight had passed aboard the Albatross. Thanks to its powerful engines, the zeppelin achieved speeds of up to a hundred kilometers per hour. Even so, Lake Grassum stretched six hundred kilometers east to west and three hundred kilometers north to south, and covering its vast expanse took time. Esther and Joey spent most of their days in the promenade, meticulously mapping the clines. She¡¯d asked the captain to fly in progressively smaller circles, creating a whirlpool pattern that gave her better reference points on the shoreline and a sharper sense of scale. Each loop grew faster as the circles drew tighter: it had taken two full days to circle the lake¡¯s edges, a day and a half for the next loop, and now they were managing more than a circle each day. Joey leaned over Esther¡¯s shoulder, feeling increasingly useless in the survey. He had tried to help her trace the boundaries of the clines but struggled with the precision required. Esther, in contrast, had a steady hand and drew each line with quiet confidence. Joey realized he had taken the hard work of cartographers for granted. As a policeman, he often relied on maps, but he¡¯d never truly considered the skill it took to make one. ¡°Your hand hardly ever falters,¡± he remarked. ¡°How confident are you that your drawing resembles the real thing?¡± ¡°Very,¡± she replied without missing a beat. Joey wasn¡¯t entirely convinced. ¡°Are you bored, Joey?¡± she asked, glancing at him. ¡°To be honest? Yes. I¡¯m not exactly essential here.¡± ¡°Your presence is appreciated, Joey,¡± Esther said with a small smile. ¡°I feel safer knowing you¡¯re watching my back.¡± ¡°You don¡¯t need to say that,¡± he muttered. ¡°I mean it,¡± she insisted gently, her eyes crinkling with a smile. ¡°Well¡­ My boss would never have let me stay home, anyway. Do you know the city treats you like a messianic figure? You could ask for nearly anything, and they¡¯d deliver it.¡± ¡°I¡¯ve noticed a certain¡­ hospitality.¡± Still, his thoughts drifted to his family. He could almost smell his daughter¡¯s strawberry-scented shampoo and hear her laughter echoing through their home. As much as he longed to be with them, Joey knew he had a job to finish here. He took a deep breath and reminded himself to stay focused¡ªhome would be waiting once this was over. ¡°Professor, how long would you say we have left before we can go home?¡± Joey asked, watching Esther as she studied the landscape and then her map. ¡°We¡¯ve been fortunate¡ªclear skies all week, and the winds haven¡¯t been too harsh,¡± she replied. ¡°Today, we¡¯ll finally fly over the lake¡¯s center. If all goes well, we¡¯ll be back in the city by tomorrow.¡± ¡°Good,¡± Joey said, a genuine smile breaking through. After days of confinement, he was more than ready for action again. ¡°Shall I go prepare some coffee? Maybe a snack?¡± ¡°That would be lovely. Thank you.¡± In the kitchen, Joey went about his ritual. He boiled the water for fifteen minutes¡ªthe only place on the zeppelin where fire was allowed. Ignition near the helium-filled gasbags was too dangerous. He pulled a small vial from his pocket, placing a single drop on each ingredient he would use. The liquid stayed clear¡ªno toxins. He sniffed and tasted each item carefully, then set about preparing an omelet and brewing the coffee. Suddenly, a scream rang out, muffled but unmistakable. A surge of adrenaline shot through him, and he dropped the coffee, cups shattering on the floor as he drew his gun and sprinted toward the promenade where he¡¯d left Esther. When he reached her, she was standing frozen, her hands covering her mouth, eyes wide with fear. The pen she¡¯d been holding lay forgotten on the floor. Joey moved quickly to her side, following her gaze. ¡°Joey¡­ it¡¯s¡­¡± He looked down through the window. Beneath them, the lake¡¯s surface was an unnatural ochre yellow. His first thought was that they¡¯d come across a new kind of cline, but something felt wrong. He looked further, realizing the color shift curved along the horizon in a giant circle. In the middle of that circle was a dark shape, nearly a kilometer wide and¡­ expanding. The shape shifted, and a sickening awareness dawned on Joey. It was an eye.