HPDBC Chapter 26 Self-Awareness
Chapter 26 Self-Awareness
"Wait a minute..." Argider cupped her chin, deep in thought. A spark of something fierce, almost reckless, ignited in her eyes. "It's not entirely useless! I can give my soldiers magic!"
Alvator let out a sigh, the kind that seemed as though it had been resting on his shoulders for centuries. "Don't be hasty," he said with a calm, careful edge. "Giving power is like unleashing fire—eager hands might warm themselves on it, but the unworthy will just get burned."
But the girl just waved a hand dismissively, undeterred. "Why should I care? With magic, I could crush the Peliotus Tribe! I could finally get my mother back."
"Power has a habit of twisting its wielder," the first emperor warned, his voice carrying the weight of experience. "You'll never know who might turn it against you. Not everyone deserves magic in their hands."
"Then how am I supposed to know who does?" she challenged, frustration clear in her voice.
"That's where your Empath skill comes in," he replied, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "You can sense intentions. Your Empathic Inundation skill, too."
She narrowed her eyes, considering his words. "Fine, but if I go by that logic, then maybe I don't deserve power either!" She paused, as if struck by her own audacity, then muttered, "But you might actually have a point. Still, it doesn't seem fair that only a few pompous pricks get all the power. I'm pretty sure the gods would have something to say about that."
Alvator raised an eyebrow. "And by 'gods,' you mean yourself, I take it?"
Her glare was so sharp, it could've cut glass. "And you have a god complex of your own, Alvator. Let's not pretend otherwise. You're the one who divided the empire into loyalty-based districts, weren't you?"
The first emperor didn't so much as blink. "Didn't that put an end to the rebellions? Kept the throne steady, didn't it?"
"The throne, yes! But the people? No," she snapped back. "You wouldn't know since you've never felt what it was like to be a commoner."
A strange pang—somewhere between confusion and reluctant clarity—settled in Argider's chest after her heated exchange with Alvator.
Maybe, just maybe, there was some truth in what the cantankerous cat had said. Somewhere along the way, buried in her grief and anger, she'd let her own sense of righteousness cloud her vision.
She'd felt that the world owed her something, simply because she felt wronged even though she also did wrong.
Their discussion finally over, Argider strode out of the palace, squinting as her eyes adjusted to the sunlight glinting off the armor of her gathered soldiers.
They were bustling about, preparing for the long, gritty road ahead—and the blood-soaked battle that awaited them. She climbed into her carriage, mind still churning with her heated exchange with Alvator, his words lingering like a burr she couldn't shake off.
Up above, Faeralys watched from the palace window as Argider left, torn between relief and worry. She sighed, wondering if they were truly prepared for the challenges ahead—or if she was simply marching toward disaster with a defiant grin.
Then came the sharp click of heels. Faeralys turned, feeling a slight dread twist in her stomach.
"Well, well, well," purred a voice dripping with haughty amusement. A laugh followed, as sweet and menacing as honey over sharp glass. "If it isn't Faeralys."
Faeralys turned slowly and suppressed a sigh. Esmeralda. Wonderful. The woman was trouble incarnate, always lurking when she wasn't wanted.
"What do you want?" Faeralys asked, folding her arms and giving Esmeralda a sharp glare.
Esmeralda just smirked, snapping her fan open with a dramatic flick. "Oh, darling, so uncouth. A proper lady bows before she speaks, didn't you know? I am your Empress." She fluttered her fan as if fanning away some great scandal, eyes twinkling with mischief.