Rebirth System: Blood and Ash

Silence settled in the chamber, an almost touchable thing between father and son, broken only by the crackling of the torches lining the walls and the soft, wavering flicker of candlelight.

Shadows fluttered over the cold stone floors, stretching out like ghosts from another time as Aric watched Xavier, the emperor's gaze distant, weighed down by something deeper, older than either of them.

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

"Most would think to be emperor is to hold absolute power, to command with a single word, to bend many kingdoms to one's will, to do as one wishes without consequence." He paused, a slight frown tracing his features, the faintest shadow of doubt flickering behind his eyes. "To some extent, perhaps, it is."

He glanced at Aric, his eyes sharp, assessing.

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

Xavier looked down at his hands, the ghost of a smile crossing his lips, though there was no humor in it.

"It sometimes only takes a single, powerless man to end the reign of an emperor. A single, insignificant voice in a sea of obedience.

One low-ranking noble whispers his discontent, and that whisper finds another… and another, until it ripples through the court, spreading like rot, until every gaze in the hall turns, fixed on every flaw, every weakness… all the emperor's shortcomings, whether those of the past or those yet to come."

He paused, his voice barely above his breath.

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

The quiet stretched, the heaviness of his words sinking deep. Aric's gaze stayed steady, but his fingers curled into fists at his sides.

Xavier continued, his tone grim.

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

He turned, stepping toward the table and picking up the ancient relic once more, its weight familiar in his hand. The rough, carved edges pressed into his skin as he spoke, his voice growing harder.

"But beyond the threat of assassins and rebels, an empire can crumble if it is not kept in order. Valeria is vast, with many forces that must work together—noble houses, guilds, councils. Even if a few fall out of line, the empire may survive. But if enough turn away, if too many withdraw their support…"

He looked up, his gaze sharp as a blade.

"Valeria would fall."

Xavier turned back to Aric, the artifact resting in his hands. "So, you see, though it may appear I wield absolute power, even I must bend a knee, knowing when to yield, when to bow my head for the sake of the empire."

Aric's face remained impassive, but his voice, when he finally spoke, held a cold edge, masking the sadness beneath.

"Was allowing the death of my mother one of those… bends of the knee?"

The emperor's gaze faltered, and a long, heavy silence followed. When he spoke, his words were slow, each one weighted, as if he chose them with the utmost care.

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

Aric's jaw clenched, his eyes hardening. He didn't respond, the air between them choked with unspoken anger, grief. Xavier looked away, perhaps waiting, perhaps hoping for Aric to say something, anything. But Aric's silence was as unyielding as stone.

Finally, Xavier spoke again, his tone more insistent, as if needing to explain, to justify, though he knew it would never be enough.

"I couldn't pardon attempted regicide," he said, his voice tight, the words barely passing his lips.

"She would never try to kill you," Aric shot back, the words spilling out before he could restrain them, his voice trembling with a rage barely contained.

Xavier's gaze hardened, his tone laced with an authority that dared Aric to question him. "I know she wouldn't have." He stepped closer, his eyes fierce. "The only thing your mother loved more than I…was you. She would have never harmed me."

Aric stood motionless, but his chest rose and fell in heavy, restrained breaths. Xavier's expression softened slightly as he spoke, his voice quieter, more pained.

"But they fabricated so much evidence against her, twisted so many truths, that if I'd opposed the tribunal's decision, it would have seemed as though I'd pardoned her out of weakness, as though I favored her over justice. I even forced the tribunal's hand, pushed for a judgment of prison, hoping she might at least be given life… but the court objected, calling for her blood."

His jaw tightened, his voice hard with bitterness. "I knew they opposed her as queen, but I never imagined they would go so far."

The emperor's hands clenched into fists, the rage visible now, clear as day. His face, which had betrayed such raw emotion a moment before, returned to its usual hard, implacable composure. But the anger remained, holding beneath the surface, as though a single word, a single wrong move, might unleash the fury of an emperor long denied his justice.

He stood before Aric, staring into his son's eyes with a fierce intensity, as if searching for something—understanding, perhaps, or forgiveness.

"I shouldn't involve myself in the struggle between you and your brothers," he said, his voice low, measured. "And yet I gave you a chance to take Byzeth, to conquer, to carve your own place. I delayed the army's march, giving you time to finish your conquest."

Aric held his breath, his heart pounding as he felt the weight of his father's words, the trust he had reluctantly assumed was there, confirmed now.

Xavier's gaze never wavered, his expression unflinching.

"And now I'll forget your act of treason—wipe it from memory as if it never happened. But in return, I ask one thing."

He moved closer, placing a hand at the back of Aric's neck, drawing him in with a rare, unguarded look, one that held the full press of a father's grief, a husband's regret, an emperor's impossible choice.

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

"And make them pay."

The words hung, a promise carved in the silence.