I woke early, though the morning carried no particular joy with it. Today we were to visit the Emperor and speak of matters regarding the Imperial Academy. The warmth of my bed still clung to me, but it was soured by the heaviness of my red day.
With a weary sigh, I called for Sylvia—not to fuss over me, not to ready my attire, but simply to sit upon the couch. I could not explain why; perhaps I only wanted her presence, her silent companionship. She understood without a word. She always did.
I dressed quickly, not bothering with much refinement. The veil fell once more over my face, familiar as Armor. Sylvia and Kalix, cloaked and ready, stood on either side of me like shadows bound to my steps.
"Has she eaten?" I asked Kalix, my voice quiet but sharp. Of course, I meant the spy.
"Yes, my lady. She woke before dawn," he answered.
I gave only a small nod in reply.
At the foot of the staircase, my mother awaited, her figure regal yet warm as ever. Together, we stepped into the carriage that would bear us to the Emperor.
As the wheels rolled over the gravel path, the gardens passed into view. There, the four gardeners sat with cups of coffee in their hands, unaware at first of my gaze. But when they noticed, they immediately rose, bowing deeply.
Afterward, the youngest among them—the little girl of thirteen—lifted her hand in a timid wave. A spark of innocence in a world where innocence was scarce.
I felt a faint tug at the corner of my lips beneath the veil, though I did not wave back. My hand lingered against the window instead, pressing lightly against the glass, letting the veil act as a shield.
We arrived at the Imperial Office, where the full retinue of handmaidens awaited us. Among them stood Empress Catherine Vesperianth herself, and at her side, her niece—Beatrix Hanel Morosini.
"Kyaa!! My princess!" Beatrix squealed, throwing her arms around me in a sudden embrace.
"Oh—" she gasped, quickly releasing me when she remembered herself, then bowing deeply to my mother. "You are so beautiful today, my lady," she said before turning her eager attention back to me.
"I can't believe you're here too!" she gushed.
"Yeah, yeah, me too. But… why is she here?" I whispered toward the handmaidens, who tried—and failed—to stifle their laughter.
"Hayyy, I really, really love you. Let's go together!" Beatrix declared, tugging me along by the arm.
"Ohh—" I stopped just long enough to bow politely to the Empress.
"Our Princess Dravina," Empress Catherine said, her voice warm yet tinged with something sharper. "It is such a shame to see you like this, always hiding your beautiful face."
She gestured gracefully toward the grand staircase. "Go on. The Prince, the Emperor, and the Imperial Academy's administrators are all waiting upstairs."
"Then, excuse us," I murmured, bowing once more before allowing Beatrix to pull me forward.
The Empress and my mother did not join us; instead, they settled into the sala of the Imperial office for tea, their closeness evident in the easy way they spoke, as though they had been dear friends for years.
So it was that Beatrix, her handmaiden, Sylvia, and I ascended the stairs together, making our way toward the Emperor's office. Kalix had remained with the carriage and would join us later.
When we reached the Emperor's meeting chamber, the heavy doors were opened for us, and immediately, the Emperor himself came into view. Beatrix and I bowed in unison; our handmaidens halted at the threshold. Only we were permitted to enter.
Inside, several figures were already seated—among them, Prince Ashen. But what stirred my blood more than his presence was the sight of the senators gathered there. Even Mr. and Mrs. Flavian had come, their children's enrollment in the Imperial Academy giving them cause to attend. And oh... My dad is also here.
The air was heavy with power, and the anticipation quickened my breath. This would be… interesting.
"Dravina, darling, how are you?" The Emperor greeted me warmly, his voice commanding yet gentle.
"My lord, I am well. And you? How is your health?" I asked, lowering my veil-covered face with practiced grace.
"Strong enough still," he chuckled softly, though he admitted, "Though I feel weaker these days."
After the brief exchange of courtesies, my gaze swept the chamber, analyzing each corner, each pair of eyes that lingered too long. The senators formed a wall of scrutiny, their attention sharp and restless.
I moved quietly to take my seat beside Prince Ashen, while Beatrix settled a few chairs down, on my left-hand side, including Zein.
"Did you rest well?" Prince Ashen asked the moment I had barely settled into my chair.
"Ahh, yes," I replied, offering him a small smile beneath the veil.
"Then why are you so cold to me?" he pressed, his voice lowered so only I could hear.
"Oh, am I?" I answered, my tone edged with sarcasm.
He exhaled softly, a sound between a sigh and a chuckle, his lips curving into that faint smile of his at my retort.
Before the exchange could linger, the Emperor's voice cut through the chamber. "Then, let's start," the Emperor declared, his voice carrying through the grand chamber.
One of the administrators of the Imperial Academy rose from his seat, bowing deeply before he spoke. "Your Majesty, esteemed senators, and honoured guests—today, we present our report on the academy's curriculum. While the foundation is strong and the students' progress promising, we propose the addition of a new subject that we believe will strengthen the empire in the years to come."
The Emperor leaned back slightly on his throne, his golden cloak pooling around him like liquid sunlight. "Speak. What is this subject you insist is so vital?"
The administrator clasped his hands behind his back, his voice steady but passionate. "Philosophy, Your Majesty. A study that delves not into swords nor spells, but into the mind itself. With it, our students will learn not only to memorize history but to question it, interpret it, and apply its lessons with wisdom. Knowledge without understanding is fragile. Philosophy will sharpen their judgment, teaching them to discern truth from falsehood, justice from corruption."
A murmur spread among the senators. Some nodded in approval, others frowned, as if the very idea unsettled them.
The Emperor narrowed his eyes. "Philosophy, you say. Hm." His tone was both curious and cautious. "Our empire already breeds warriors, tacticians, scholars, etc. Why burden them with abstract thoughts that cannot win battles nor fill coffers?"
The administrator did not falter. "Because, Majesty, every battle is first born in the mind. A commander who knows strategy but lacks wisdom may win a skirmish and yet lose the war. A senator who memorizes laws without understanding justice becomes a pawn for corruption. Philosophy ensures that the empire's future leaders do not act on impulse alone, but on reason. It will cultivate citizens who question blindly following power, yet still uphold loyalty to the empire. Stronger minds, stronger nation."
The Emperor drummed his fingers on the armrest of his throne, studying the faces around the hall. Some senators shifted uncomfortably, perhaps fearing that teaching the youth to question might lead them to question the Empire itself.
"Interesting," the Emperor mused. His gaze swept the chamber. "What say you, council? Is this subject to be a gift… or a danger?"
One senator stood abruptly. "Majesty, I fear this will encourage rebellion. To teach the young to question authority is to plant seeds of unrest. Philosophy is a dangerous fire—once lit, it cannot be controlled."
Another senator countered, "With respect, that fire is already burning. Better to guide it, Majesty, than let it grow wild. If the youth are destined to ask questions, then let them ask within the academy's walls, where their curiosity can be shaped into loyalty, not treason."
The Emperor chuckled darkly, his lips curling in amusement at the debate. "So, Half of you see Philosophy as a torch, half as a sword turned against us.
"Uhmm…" I cleared my throat softly, the single sound slicing through the chamber. Every head turned toward me—even the Emperor's sharp gaze fixed fully upon my face. I had to force my tired body to lean slightly forward, a small action that felt like lifting a great weight.
"Yes? Dravina? Would you like to share your thoughts on this?" the Emperor asked, his voice edged with curiosity.
I inclined my head respectfully. "Your Majesty, yes, I would like to offer some insights regarding this subject."
The silence was palpable, heavy with expectation. I let it linger for just a heartbeat before continuing.
"Philosophy, if I may, is not a mere collection of abstract thoughts. It is the root of every discipline we practice today. Long before kingdoms were forged or laws were written, men and women sought to answer the most fundamental questions: What is truth? What is justice? What is the meaning of life and death? These questions birthed Philosophy. And from Philosophy came the seeds of law, politics, ethics, even the sciences. In truth, Your Majesty, it is Philosophy that teaches us how to think, while other subjects merely teach us what to think."
A flicker of interest moved across the Emperor's stern face, though he remained silent.
I pressed forward, my voice steady but fervent. "Consider history, Your Majesty. Without philosophy, history is but a list of dates and names. But through philosophy, history becomes a mirror, reflecting lessons and warnings. Consider strategy—tactics may win a battle, but philosophy teaches a commander the weight of human life, the cost of ambition, and the value of restraint. Even magic itself—without philosophy, it is mere power. With philosophy, it becomes wisdom."
The senators shifted; some leaned forward, others frowned in disapproval. Still, no one interrupted.
I allowed myself a faint smile inside the veil. "Great civilizations of old were not built on swords alone, but on the philosophies that guided them. Some rose because their people believed in justice, order, or reason. Some fell because they ignored those very principles. If the Imperial Academy seeks to build leaders who will endure, then Philosophy is not an addition, but a necessity. For what good is knowledge in arithmetic, sorcery, or combat… if the one who wields it lacks the wisdom to use it rightly?"
I let my words hang in the air, and for a moment, the chamber was utterly still.
The Emperor's voice rumbled with approval. "Hmmm. Well spoken, Dravina. Philosophy as the foundation of wisdom… A compelling case."
But before the warmth of his words could settle, a senator on the far side of the table scoffed. He was a stout man with rings on every finger, his wealth worn louder than his words. "With all due respect, Your Majesty," he began, his tone dripping with disdain, "The princess.. Or I may say.. Our princess speaks too highly of dreams. Philosophy, hmph! It is a luxury of idle minds, not the concern of future administrators. What use are lofty ideals when what the Empire needs are builders, merchants, soldiers—not thinkers lost in riddles?"
A ripple of murmurs passed through the chamber. Some senators nodded in agreement; others avoided meeting my gaze.
I tilted my head, studying him as one might study a spider in its web. My voice, when it came, was soft but cutting.
"Curious… You call philosophy the luxury of idle minds. And yet, Senator, tell me—what guides your laws, your decrees, your decisions on behalf of the people? If not ideals, then what? Coin?"
The senator stiffened, his fingers twitching over his rings.
I leaned forward slightly, my tone sharpening just enough to draw blood. "History shows us many empires that fell, not from lack of gold, nor soldiers, nor builders. They crumbled because their leaders abandoned principle. Because those entrusted with the people's trust chose convenience over conscience, greed over justice." I let my eyes rest deliberately on him. "Philosophy, Senator, is not a riddle. It is a mirror. Perhaps that is why it unsettles you."
The chamber erupted in whispers. A few senators exchanged uneasy glances. The Emperor's brow lifted, amused but silent, allowing me to continue.
"Those who dismiss philosophy often do so because it demands accountability. It strips away the masks of wealth and status, leaving only the truth of one's actions. And truth, Your Majesty, is a far more dangerous weapon than any sword."
The senator sputtered, color rising to his cheeks. He opened his mouth as if to retort, but no words came.
Prince Ashen, seated beside me, smirked faintly, his eyes flickering with something dangerously close to admiration.
The Emperor exhaled a deep, low chuckle. "Well, well… it seems the academy will not lack sharp minds after all."