CHAPTER 94: POWER IS FICKLE

Silence settled in the chamber, an almost tangible weight between father and son, broken only by the crackle of torches along the walls and the wavering flicker of candlelight.

Shadows stretched across the cold stone floor, shifting like phantoms from another age as Aric watched Xavier, the emperor’s gaze distant, burdened with something older, heavier than either of them.

After a long pause, Xavier finally spoke, his voice low, contemplative.

"Most would think to be emperor is to wield absolute power, to command with a single word, to bend kingdoms to one’s will, to act without consequence." He paused, a faint frown cutting across his features, the shadow of doubt flickering in his eyes. "To some extent, perhaps, it is."

He glanced at Aric, his gaze sharp, appraising.

"But as you well know, the Valerian crown was not always ours to bear. Once, a restless empire cast down the mightiest ruler this land had seen—the fourteenth emperor, a man like all emperors, hailed as invincible, slain, his throne seized by our forefathers, along with the Valerian name. All-powerful, they called him, yet his crown was taken... just like that."

Xavier looked down at his hands, the ghost of a smile tracing his lips, though no humor touched it.

"It sometimes takes only a single, powerless man to end an emperor’s reign. A single, insignificant voice in a sea of obedience. One low noble whispers dissent, and that whisper finds another... and another, until it spreads through the court like rot, until every gaze in the hall turns, fixed on every flaw, every weakness... the emperor’s failures, whether past or yet to come."

He paused, his words barely a breath.

"It isn’t enough to topple him outright, no. But it is enough to make the court take notice. Enough to make the people start to see."

The silence thickened, the weight of his words sinking deep. Aric’s stare held steady, though his fingers curled into fists.

Xavier’s tone hardened.

"Assassinating an emperor—no simple feat. But when enough wish it, well, boy, it becomes only a matter of time."

He turned, stepping toward the table, lifting the relic once more, its weight familiar in his palm. The rough edges pressed into his skin as he spoke, his voice unyielding.

"But beyond assassins and rebels, an empire collapses if it is not kept in order. Valeria is vast, and its forces must move as one—noble houses, guilds, councils. A few may falter and the empire endures. But if too many turn away, if enough withdraw their support..."

He looked up, eyes like blades.

"Valeria would fall."

Xavier turned back to Aric, the artifact still in hand. "So, you see, though it may seem I wield absolute power, even I must bend the knee, knowing when to yield, when to bow my head for the empire’s sake."

Aric’s face stayed composed, though his voice, when it came, carried a cold edge that masked the sorrow beneath.

"Was allowing my mother’s death one of those... bends of the knee?"

The emperor’s gaze faltered, and a long silence followed. When he spoke, his words were slow, each chosen with care.

"It feels a dishonor to her memory to say this," he admitted, voice strained. "But I would be lying if I claimed it was not."

Aric’s jaw clenched, his eyes hard. He did not answer. The air between them thickened with grief and unspoken rage. Xavier looked away, perhaps waiting, perhaps hoping for Aric to speak.

But Aric’s silence was iron.

Finally, Xavier spoke again, his tone edged with urgency, as though needing to justify himself, though he knew it would never suffice.

"I could not pardon attempted regicide," he said tightly, the words scraped out like stone.

"She would never try to kill you," Aric shot back, the words spilling before restraint could hold them, his voice trembling with barely contained fury.

Xavier’s eyes hardened, his tone steeped in authority that dared Aric to deny him. "I know she would not have." He stepped closer, eyes fierce. "The only thing your mother loved more than me...was you. She would never have harmed me."

Aric stood unmoving, chest rising in heavy, controlled breaths. Xavier’s gaze softened slightly, his voice quieter, more pained.

"But they wove so much evidence against her, twisted so many truths, that if I had opposed the tribunal, it would have seemed I spared her as a result of my weakness, that I chose her over justice. I even forced their hand, pressed for imprisonment, hoping she might yet live... but the court resisted, demanding her blood."

His jaw tightened, voice bitter. "I knew they despised her as queen, but I never thought they would go so far."

The emperor’s hands curled into fists, his rage visible now, raw and unmasked. For a moment his face bared grief, but then it returned to its usual hard, unyielding composure.

Yet the fury lingered beneath, coiled and waiting, as if a single word, a single misstep, might unleash the wrath of an emperor long denied justice.

He stood before Aric, eyes locked on his son’s with a fierce intensity, searching—perhaps for understanding, perhaps for forgiveness.

"I should not meddle in the struggle between you and your brothers," he said, voice measured. "And yet I gave you Byzeth, a chance to conquer, to carve your own place. I delayed the army’s march, granting you time to complete your conquest."

Aric’s breath caught, his heart pounding beneath the weight of those words, the trust he had only dared assume now laid bare.

Xavier’s gaze held firm, unflinching.

"And now I will forget your treason—erase it as though it never was. But in return, I ask one thing."

He stepped closer, placing a hand at the back of Aric’s neck, drawing him in with a rare, unguarded look—a father’s grief, a husband’s regret, an emperor’s impossible choice.

"Find those who plotted against your mother," he murmured, voice barely more than a breath.

"And make them pay."

The words lingered, a promise carved into silence.