The crystal chandelier cast a kaleidoscope of colors across the grand chamber as Arkan Valis strode toward the center podium, his boots clicking against the polished marble floor. Representatives from the most powerful noble houses in the Veldari Empire filled the tiered seats, each draped in opulent robes adorned with rare gemstones and precious metals. Their jeweled eyes tracked Arkan’s every movement, like a council of gods assessing a mortal’s plea.

Arkan’s heart pounded beneath the immaculate vestments of House Valis, but his face remained impassive, every muscle locked in careful control. He had waited years for this opportunity—a chance to speak truth to power, to make the Veldari elite see the darkness festering beneath the polished veneer of their empire. Everything hinged on this moment: the lives of billions across hundreds of conquered worlds, the fate of entire species reduced to mere resources.

He raised his chin as he reached the podium, facing down the sea of powerful, calculating eyes.

“Esteemed nobles of the Veldari Empire,” he began, his rich baritone echoing through the chamber. “For too long, we have built our glory upon the suffering of others. The alien species we govern—yes, govern—are not mere assets. They are sentient beings, as deserving of dignity and rights as any one of us here.”

A ripple of shock spread through the crowd, followed by murmurs of disapproval. Arkan’s gaze flicked over the assembly, reading the various reactions: surprise, amusement, disdain. Some nobles exchanged glances, as though silently agreeing that Arkan had finally gone mad.

Baron Kavor Reese, his hawkish features severe beneath a crown of silver hair, leaned forward in his seat. He smiled, but it was a smile sharp as broken glass.

“Lord Valis,” Reese intoned, his voice thick with patronizing amusement, “you speak of these… aliens as if they were our equals. Surely you see the fallacy in this? These species—” he paused, waving a jeweled hand dismissively, “—they are not like us. They lack our culture, our sophistication, our intellect. It is our duty to bring them out of their primitive ways, to guide them to a semblance of purpose.”

A murmur of agreement rolled through the chamber. Arkan swallowed, resisting the urge to clench his fists.

“Our duty?” he replied, his voice tight. “Baron Reese, you speak of purpose, but at what cost? Our cities flourish while their worlds wither. We extract their resources, conscript their people, and strip away their dignity in the name of ‘guidance.’ How can you claim this is anything but exploitation?”

Another noble, Lady Kyra Rakaris, shifted in her seat, her deep-green gown shimmering like the scales of a serpent. She regarded Arkan with a look of faint pity, as though he were a child who had failed to grasp a basic lesson.

“Lord Valis,” she said, her voice soft and silken, “surely you understand that every civilization begins in darkness. The Veldari, too, once wandered in ignorance, before we rose to the stars. What we offer these species is enlightenment—a chance to partake in our grand empire, to find meaning under our banner.”

Arkan felt his blood begin to boil. “And in the process, we rob them of their culture, their autonomy, their very identity. What enlightenment is that, Lady Rakaris?”

Lady Rakaris smiled, a sad and superior look. “Sometimes, Lord Valis, to show the way forward, one must first clear the obstacles of the past. The quaint customs and misguided beliefs of these alien species hold them back. We are doing them a kindness by guiding them.”

“Yes,” Baron Reese interjected, his voice growing more forceful, “we bring order where there was none. Without us, these species would be lost, scrambling in darkness, ignorant of the very stars above their heads. Look at the T’Rilli, for instance. They were barely out of their swamps when we found them, floundering in superstition. Now, thanks to our influence, they build cities, engineer planets. They thrive under our protection.”

“Protection?” Arkan’s voice sharpened. “They build cities and engineer planets, yes—cities they’ll never own and planets they’ll never live on. We use them as tools, as laborers, and give nothing in return but shackles.”

At that, Chancellor Vayne Zoldari rose from his seat, his long black robes swirling like shadows. The Chancellor’s face was thin and severe, his eyes cold as interstellar space. He raised a hand, and the murmurs died into an uneasy silence.

“Lord Valis,” Zoldari began, his tone calm but laced with menace, “you are young and… idealistic. Admirable traits in their place. But you have overstepped today.” His eyes bored into Arkan with the weight of a thousand years of tradition. “You speak of shackles and oppression as if the Veldari are some barbaric horde. Yet it is we who brought order and stability to the galaxy. Do you believe that the M’Narri, the Veskari, or the T’Rilli would be better off without our guidance?”

“They would have a chance to shape their own destiny, to rise or fall on their own terms,” Arkan answered, holding Zoldari’s gaze. “You speak of stability, Chancellor, but that stability is enforced at the end of a sword. The M’Narri serve as living batteries, drained of their lifeforce to power our ships. The Veskari toil in mines, stripping their worlds of resources they’ll never see. This is not guidance. It’s tyranny.”

Zoldari’s lips curled in a faint sneer. “The M’Narri, the Veskari… without us, they would still be wallowing in the mud. They lacked the intellect, the vision to reach beyond their primitive ways. And now, under our watch, they have purpose.”

“Purpose?” Arkan echoed, his voice rising. “They have servitude. They are cogs in a machine that doesn’t care if they break or wither.”

“Better to be a cog in a grand machine than to be nothing at all,” Zoldari retorted, his voice like steel. “Without us, these species would have no future. We give them direction, meaning, a role to play in the order of things. You speak as if we deny them something precious, but we offer them stability, security, a place in the empire.”

Arkan shook his head, frustration mounting. “Security at the cost of freedom is no security at all. And what you call stability is a cage, a gilded prison.”

The nobles shifted in their seats, some uncomfortable, others indignant. But Arkan pressed on, his heart pounding, his voice ringing clear.

“Imagine, for a moment, the power of an empire where all species work together, as equals. Imagine the innovation, the prosperity that could come from diversity, from cooperation. The Veldari could lead by example, by showing the galaxy that strength comes not from oppression but unity.”

A heavy silence hung over the chamber as his words settled. Some of the nobles seemed to consider his proposal, their brows furrowing, minds wavering. But just as the atmosphere shifted, Chancellor Zoldari let out a harsh, dismissive laugh.

“You are a dreamer, Valis,” he sneered. “You would have us coddle these beings, treat them as our peers? What foolishness. We are Veldari—the inheritors of the galaxy, the pinnacle of sentient evolution. It is our place to lead, and theirs to follow.”

“Yes!” Baron Reese added, his voice full of righteous fervor. “We are not tyrants. We are stewards of the galaxy, bearing the burden of responsibility so that these lesser species may find a purpose. They serve a role they could never achieve alone.”

Arkan’s fists clenched on the podium, his knuckles white. “You’re not stewards. You’re parasites feeding off the lives of others, justifying it with the delusion of superiority.”

The nobles erupted, their voices blending into a chorus of outrage and disdain. Lord Vax, an elder noble draped in deep blue robes trimmed with silver, sneered at Arkan with open contempt.

“You call us parasites, Valis?” he spat. “It is we who have built civilization itself! Without the Veldari, there would be chaos, lawlessness. We bring order. We bring progress. Every species we conquer, every world we touch—each one rises from the darkness, shaped and guided by our hand.”

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Arkan took a deep breath, letting the fury fuel him. “And who gave us the right to decide their futures, Vax? Who appointed us as masters of their lives? The Veldari rose to power through alliances and cooperation, not tyranny.”

“Tyranny?” Lady Rakaris’s voice was low and cold, dripping with disdain. “Tyranny is the way of brutes and beasts, not the refined elegance of the Veldari. We do not enslave; we elevate. Every race under our banner has a purpose, a place, a stability they would never have known alone.”

The Chancellor raised his hand once more, his voice like the crack of a whip. “Enough. We are here today to discuss matters of state, not indulge in fairy tales of equality.” His eyes narrowed as he focused on Arkan. “If you cannot comprehend the duty we bear, then you are a fool.”

Arkan’s heart sank, but he refused to let the weight of their disdain crush his resolve. He lifted his head, meeting each gaze with fierce determination.

“Mark my words,” he said, his voice steady, unwavering. “If we continue down this path—if we cling to this false vision of superiority—it will poison us. It will destroy the very foundation of the Empire. The galaxy is changing, and we must change with it… or be left in ruin.”

The chamber fell silent, the weight of his words pressing down on the assembly. For a fleeting moment, Arkan dared to hope that some part of his message had pierced their arrogance, that perhaps one noble heart in the room had softened.

But then, as the silence stretched, Alira Valis watched her husband with a mix of pride and trepidation from the edge of the room. She knew the depth of his conviction, his fierce belief in a better way forward. But she also saw the rigid, unyielding faces of the nobles—the faces of men and women who believed themselves saviors, not oppressors.

When the assembly finally broke for recess, Arkan descended from the podium, and Alira moved to his side. She touched his arm, a gentle reminder of her presence, her love.

“Arkan,” she murmured, voice soft but urgent. “They’re not ready to hear you. Not yet.”

He looked down at her, the strain in his eyes softened by her compassion. “I know. But I have to keep trying. We have to keep trying. The fate of the galaxy depends on it.”

Alira squeezed his hand, a silent promise of her unwavering support. “Then we’ll keep trying. Together.”

With a final, steeling breath, he turned back toward the assembly hall, ready to face the battles to come.

***

The echoes of impassioned voices still lingered in Arkan’s mind as he walked through the darkened corridors of the palace, Alira’s hand warm and steady in his. The distant hum of activity from the assembly hall faded behind them, swallowed by the silence of the marble-lined halls that stretched like veins through the heart of Veldari power. Soft light from wall sconces cast golden pools along their path, illuminating tapestries of Veldari conquests—worlds tamed, stars claimed, alien species bent beneath the weight of a proud and unyielding empire.

Alira moved closer, her hand squeezing his, as if sensing the storm that still churned beneath his calm exterior.

“They’re blind, Alira,” he said finally, his voice barely more than a whisper. "They talk of purpose, of guiding the other species, as if they’re offering them salvation rather than shackles.”

Alira’s emerald eyes softened as she looked up at him, a quiet understanding settling over her features. “They’re not blind, Arkan. They’re terrified. Terrified of a future they can’t control, one that doesn’t revolve around them as the axis of the galaxy.”

They stopped before a grand window, the view revealing the sprawling cityscape of Avaron Prime stretched out beneath them, glittering under the light of two distant moons. Towers of steel and glass spiraled high into the atmosphere, humming with life. Arkan’s gaze drifted over the sight, but his heart felt heavy with the knowledge that for every beacon of light in Veldari territory, there were countless worlds drowning in darkness.

“Do you think I’m a fool, Alira?” he asked quietly, his voice tinged with uncharacteristic vulnerability. “For believing that they could change? That, perhaps, I could convince them to let go of their arrogance?”

She reached up, cupping his face with gentle hands, brushing a stray lock of dark hair from his brow. “No, my love. I don’t think you’re a fool. I think you’re brave. Brave enough to see a better world, to believe in something grander than the empire’s hollow glory.”

He closed his eyes, leaning into her touch, allowing himself to bask in the warmth and comfort of her presence. Alira had been his anchor, his guiding star, through every battle, every diplomatic disappointment. She understood him in a way no one else could, saw the vision he carried in his heart, even when it seemed impossible.

“You’re my better half,” he murmured, his voice rough with emotion. “Without you, I fear I’d lose myself in their madness.”

Her hands drifted to his shoulders, and she pulled him into a gentle embrace. They stood there, wrapped in silence, the world outside their little bubble forgotten. Arkan breathed in the familiar scent of her—warm, soothing, like jasmine and summer rain—and let it soothe the tumult within him.

“Sometimes,” she said softly, her cheek resting against his, “I wonder if the reason you and I were born into this empire was so we could see its flaws from within, so that we might plant the seeds of change. Maybe we’re meant to be the first cracks in its foundation.”

He opened his eyes, looking over her shoulder at the city below, thinking of the countless lives hidden in its shadows—the alien laborers who toiled unseen, the families who lived under constant surveillance, forced to abide by Veldari rules and customs they had never chosen. He’d spent years watching, cataloging, hoping to find a way to ease their suffering.

But the assembly tonight had felt like a wall he couldn’t breach, a fortress impenetrable to reason or compassion.

“If that’s true,” he said, his voice steadying, “then we have a heavy task ahead. The Veldari don’t compromise, and they don’t forgive.”

Alira pulled back just enough to look into his eyes, her hands still resting on his shoulders. Her gaze was fierce, almost defiant. “Then we’ll make them listen. Bit by bit, until they can’t ignore us. Until the chorus of voices demanding change becomes too loud to silence.”

The fire in her words rekindled something within him, a faint but determined flicker of hope. He had long admired Alira’s courage, her ability to see light even in the deepest shadow. She had a way of believing in him, in their shared dream, even when he could hardly believe in himself.

A shadow of a smile tugged at his lips. “Do you remember the first time we argued about this?”

She laughed softly, a sound like wind chimes in the quiet night. “Of course. You were so idealistic, practically reciting your vision of unity and cooperation like a holy scripture. And I told you that trying to change the Veldari would be like trying to move a mountain with a feather.”

“And yet, here you are,” he teased gently, his tone affectionate. “Still helping me push that mountain, feather by feather.”

Her smile softened, and for a moment, they were just two people, alone in a vast and unforgiving empire, bound together by love and shared purpose. She reached up and brushed her fingers along his jawline, her touch gentle, as though she was grounding him in that moment.

“We may only be two voices,” she whispered, “but sometimes two voices are all it takes to spark something unstoppable.”

Arkan took her hands in his, pressing them to his chest, feeling the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath her touch. “Promise me you’ll stay by my side, no matter what happens.”

Her gaze was unwavering, her answer firm. “Always. Wherever this path leads us.”

For a long moment, they simply stood together, hearts aligned, each drawing strength from the other. But the stillness was shattered by the sound of approaching footsteps, heavy and unhurried, like the ominous march of fate.

Arkan turned, his expression hardening as he saw Chancellor Vayne Zoldari striding toward them, his dark robes trailing behind him like a shroud. The faintest glint of amusement gleamed in the Chancellor’s eyes, as though he took pleasure in disrupting this rare, intimate moment.

“Lord Valis,” Zoldari drawled, his voice rich with thinly-veiled mockery. “I thought I might find you here, seeking comfort in the arms of your lovely wife after your… impassioned display.”

Arkan’s jaw tightened, but he forced himself to remain calm. “Is there something you wanted, Chancellor?”

Zoldari inclined his head, his expression remaining smooth, almost amused. “Only to offer you some advice. A lesson, if you will.” He folded his hands behind his back, his posture both commanding and condescending. “Idealism is a disease, Valis. One that spreads quickly but dies just as easily in the face of reality. You may think you can change the world, but I assure you—the world will break you first.”

Alira stiffened beside him, but Arkan reached out, brushing her hand in a silent gesture of restraint. He knew Zoldari was baiting him, trying to provoke him into anger.

“I appreciate your concern, Chancellor,” he replied, his voice steady and cold, “but I assure you, my resolve is not so easily broken.”

Zoldari’s eyes narrowed, a flicker of something darker passing over his face. “We shall see, Lord Valis. There are forces at work in this Empire that you do not understand, alliances that go back generations. You are a thorn, and the Veldari do not suffer thorns lightly.”

Arkan held his gaze, feeling the weight of the Chancellor’s veiled threat, but he refused to back down. “Perhaps it’s time someone reminded the Veldari that thorns draw blood.”

Zoldari’s expression sharpened, but he merely offered a cold smile before turning on his heel. “Enjoy your evening, Lord Valis, Lady Valis. I suspect it may be one of the last peaceful nights you experience for some time.”

As the Chancellor’s footsteps faded, Alira exhaled, tension leaving her body. She looked at Arkan, her expression laced with worry. “They’ll come after you, Arkan. After us.”

He nodded slowly, the truth of Zoldari’s words sinking in. “I know. But if we turn back now, if we let them frighten us into silence, we’ll be no better than them.”

She took his hand, her grip fierce. “Then let them come. We’ll face whatever they throw at us. Together.”

He pulled her close, pressing his lips to her forehead, feeling the weight of their shared burden settle over them. In that quiet moment, with only the distant city lights as witness, he made a silent vow to protect her, to protect their dream, no matter the cost.