SERAVEL ROVODIA, the son of the tyrant Fire Potentate, is a model citizen of all sorts. Obedient, punctual, and most of all, silent. When his friend and long-time confidante gets arrested for alleged sacrilege against the administration, Seravel sta...
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2407 Xavem 17, Jyda
The morning light blinded Sera awake. He opened his eyes to the usual scene of his room. Nothing was out of place. Everything was going as Sera intended it. He rolled out of bed, stalking to his desk and glancing at the mess of parchments he had been working at last night.
Since the day he ran late and having Blazes save his rear, he made it a point to develop a queue of at least five days worth of articles. That way, he wouldn't have to visit Darmer and the press every day. That would lessen the suspicion on Sera as to where he goes out to.
Today was one of those days where he would hand his five-day queue to Darmer. They had just finished printing the last of the previous batch he had given him. It's important for Sera to be able to get out of the Palace either this afternoon or tonight. He couldn't have Blazes catching him in his fall once more.
His fingers rubbed his eyes, massaging the sleep off of them. He blinked once. Twice. Then, he got the painted clay figurine of Kelion, the goddess of knowledge and truth, and placed it atop his writings. The wind wouldn't get the best of him again with this.
Kelion's face stared up at him from her place on the table. Despite being made of clay, the various shades of weristen made her feel life-like. She looked like a mini-fairy strutting atop his desk, waving her sword and gigantic quill around. He smiled. What an irony for her to choose a territory such as Lanbridhr for tutelage. How would she feel upon knowing the fire sprites didn't worship the gods as they were?
Sera shook his head and mussed his hair, feeling the curly waves underneath his fingertips. There were a few meetings throughout the day, most of them were on trials. Ever since the Ember Chronicles started, the Palace had been seeing more and more people being convicted and sent to gaimouth for something as simple as being seen near a copy of Sera's prints.
He blew a breath, feeling his conscience weigh in on him once more. Technically, this was all his fault. He had urged the people to stand up for themselves. He had stoked the fire that would have otherwise died if he hadn't. All in all, it was his fault his own people were being terrorized.
But, as Darmer convinced him, they're working towards something bigger, something that would prevent anything like this from happening in the future. Sera just didn't know what the convicted people, who had spent their days in Gaimouth, would think of them playing around with their lives, using them as a means to get to the end Sera had been dreaming up for them.
It surely wasn't easy being in power, in being accountable to the lives of a million others. How in Umazure did his father do it? Was that part of the "hard choices" they have to make in order to protect certain things? When and where did the Potentate deviate from his ethical duty and focus on saving his own rear end? At some point, would that become Sera's fate, too?
That's why power was scary. It could poison one's mind, leaving nothing to be salvaged.
He squared his shoulders and exhaled through his nose. It was just another day in his life. This one's going to be as ordinary as Seravel Rovodia's life could be. For the last time, he glanced at the mirror slotted on the wall to the left of the door to his room. His hair was left in its messy state, having just rolled out of bed. His gray eyes looked as stormy as ever, unlike the scalding heat in the desert in his backyard. He smiled at his reflection and it smiled right back.
