"Can you see my memories?" Dave inquired, a hint of trepidation in his voice. “We’ve been talking for a while now, so it should be possible for you to know what I know.”

"Ah, yes. I... can indeed," Alaster confirmed, his gaze piercing into Dave's very soul.

He rose from his luxurious chair and strode across the room, stopping before the grand painting of a young man, his eyes filled with ambition and pride. "When I was young, I was consumed with the pursuit of power and the desire to rule Shandria. As I grew older, my focus shifted toward a deeper understanding of magic. But in my twilight years, my memory began to falter, and I lost far too many precious things… including myself. I never had children of my own. Since you now wield the remnants of my soul, Dave, you are the closest thing I have to someone who can carry on my legacy, perhaps even accomplishing what I could not."

"What's that?" Dave inquired.

"To take control of Shandria," Alaster explained, a wistful gleam in his eyes. "To restore the city to its former glory as a great trade hub filled with gleaming skyships. Perhaps to raise it to even greater heights!"

"Does the Shadow not swat ships down?" Dave asked, recalling the cloud that seemed to envelop the city.

"Only because it is blind and ignorant," Alaster said, his tone dismissive. "But that's not true anymore, is it?"

"Cedez?" Dave blinked, his thoughts turning toward the enigmatic foxgirl.

"The Great Barrier Ward of Shandria was designed to grow in intelligence and power over the centuries," Alaster nodded, his voice filled with reverence. "My six-times-great grandfather was one of the select group of archmagi who constructed the colossal engine beneath this city."

“Oh,” Dave uttered.

"I would have loved to have met her, the warrior Empress, the wielder of incredible magic that brought many nations and cities to their knees and laid the foundation of our Shadow Empire," Alaster mused, his gaze distant as if he could see the past unfolding before him. "Alas, I was born a few generations too early."

"A few generations too early for what?"

"For her... rebirth," the old man replied.

"Hold up," Dave blinked, trying to wrap his head around the ancient Archmage's words. "Is Cedez the Empress or not?"

"She is and she's also not," Alaster turned away from his portrait. "Just like you, I am not aware of what currently goes on in other cities of the Shadow Empire, but Shandria... our Ward Engine managed to do what it was set out to do generations ago."

"Which is?" Dave asked, his curiosity growing with each revelation.

"To gather power from the citizens of Shandria over centuries via the pyramidal runes and slave collars. To reach a critical point in time and select a fitting child born within Shandria's walls and imbue their body with the magical imprint of the First Empress Nox Aestaernus," Alaster explained, the light of his memories dancing in his eyes. "The Great Barrier Ward is an arcane project of our forefathers, a centuries-long clockwork mechanism that makes the legacy of Nox Aestaernus truly everlasting!"

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As Dave listened to the old phantom, he began to understand the magnitude of the legacy that had been passed down through generations, a monumental effort to preserve the essence of an Empress who had once shaped the destiny of a nation.

"Cedez Astra is Nox Aestaernus," Alaster declared, his voice imbued with a sense of reverence. "But she's also a girl born in Shandria. From what I saw in your mind… she's not there yet, but she is destined to become the Sovereign of Shandria."

"What?" Dave inquired, seeking to grasp the full extent of Cedez's significance. “Are you telling me two hundred years ago some bastards decided to randomly shove the first Empress’ memories into a random child using a gargantuan ward hexagram designed like a dungeon core feeding on slaves and citizens of this city?!”

“More or less,” the archmage nodded. "The ward heartily feeds on criminals and slowly nips at everyone else's mana as long as they're standing near a pyramidal rune. In this manner everyone in the city from people to animals contributes to Shandria's ward, making our defenses more potent with each year."

“Why the whole reincarnation biz?!” Dave asked.

"Even with the healing magic of the mermaids, people age, bodies and minds decay, succumb to death or madness," Alaster explained, the weight of his own years evident in his voice. "Knowledge is lost or burned away by constant wars with other God-Emperors. Highborn families become complacent or corrupt. It is impossible to rule every major city from the Shadow Empire’s capital. No matter how efficient communication lines are, if the city’s administration has grown corpulent and corrupt, orders simply do not get carried out.”

“I see,” Dave muttered. “So, this engine…”

“Once it has the power to do so, the engine beneath the city ensures that an effective ruler is born with a skill that aids the city. Cedez could be a second or even the first generation manifestation of Nox Aestaernus, the bearer of her Divine Shadow, a child born in the darkest hour under the light of the pyramidal rune!"

As Alaster spoke, the magnitude of Cedez's potential fate settled upon Dave, and he realized just how vital her role was in the grand design of Shandria's future. She was both a simple foxgirl and a vessel for the power of an ancient Empress, poised to rise and guide her city to greatness once more.

"So... she can die?" Dave blinked, trying to reconcile the image of an Empress with the vulnerable girl he observed when he yelled at her.

"She is a girl of flesh and blood," Alaster confirmed, his eyes solemn. "A mortal, a vessel that can house her Divine Shadow, bound to serve the city, a goddess reborn and the perfect ruler made manifest. She can be hurt or killed, and the Ward Engine will simply find another child, another bearer to carry the arcane imprint and try again."

"How many people know this?" the ex-programmer demanded.

"Only the Highborn Lords of Shandria like myself should be privy to this information," the old Archmage explained, his voice laced with caution.

"What if the Lords of Shandria don't want to surrender the city to her?" Dave asked.

"She is exceptionally charismatic," Alaster said, smiling at Dave. "The ward has chosen well. Only someone completely immune to charisma magic or wielding charisma-cancelling artifacts can stand up to or even kill the bearer of her Divine Shadow."

"Someone like me?" Dave blinked.

"Yes," Archmage Rim nodded. "If a Sovereign were born in Shandria in my generation, I would become their best friend, test them, and see if they are a good person. If they don't meet my expectations as a just ruler of the city, I would simply hire a necromancer to kill them."

"Those are currently illegal in Shandria," Dave pointed out, his brow furrowing.

"As if a law like that could stop the Lords of the city," Alaster laughed, a wry smile playing on his lips. "In fact, it is rather advantageous to declare necromancy illegal while having a necromancer on hand."

"That... makes a certain kind of sense," Dave mulled, his mind racing with the implications of the potential Machiavellian scheme. "Shit."

He realized that the world of highborn politics was a treacherous web of deceit and cunning, where the powerful bent the rules to their advantage and the truth was as malleable as clay.