Hélène's words resonate in Mero's mind like a powerful wave, laden with meaning. What she implied goes far beyond the hollow pleasantries of a simple conversation. This encounter is no coincidence; it is a sign, a discreet recognition heavy with consequences. In an instant, Mero realizes that his role, previously overshadowed by his title, has played a part in a significant diplomatic maneuver. The integration of Ambrelune into the Empire, an event he believed to be relegated to mere administrative parchments, turns out to be the result of subtle choices—decisions invisible to the masses but crucial for the powerful who pull the strings.
Hélène has shed light on a truth he had never dared to consider. He is not just the second prince of the Kingdom of Sel, a decorative figure in the halls of the Imperial School of Mor. He is an essential cog in a much larger game, a chessboard where every word, every gesture can topple kingdoms. The princess has seen in him a rare finesse: an ability to grasp underlying currents, to decipher intrigues without ever disturbing the surface. This revelation shakes him, challenging the image he had of himself.
When Hélène disappears as quickly as she appeared, a strange sensation overwhelms Mero. The solitude that envelops him is no longer familiar. It is not the comforting calm of his usual moments of isolation but a new heaviness, almost suffocating. He is no longer a simple student, nor even a prince awaiting his time. His choices now could redraw the contours of the Empire, influence his mentors, his peers, perhaps even the Emperor himself. This realization strikes him like a cold wind on the docks of Sel.
He leaves the dining hall, his heart heavy, his mind racing. The deserted corridors of the dormitory pass beneath his feet, but the clarity he seeks still eludes him. It is not fatigue that agitates him—on the contrary, he has never been more awake. Hélène's words are imprinted on him like a brand, a truth he cannot escape. What was once a quest to find his place in this sprawling Empire takes on an entirely different scale. The pressure of this responsibility crushes him as much as it ignites him.
In his room, the luxury surrounding him—the embroidered rugs, the polished furniture—suddenly seems devoid of meaning. This refuge, once a cocoon, transforms into a silent cage. The walls seem to close in, unable to contain the whirlwind of his thoughts. The solitude that overwhelms him is deeper, sharper than before. Lying on his bed, he stares at the ceiling, unable to close his eyes. How could he sleep with this weight on his shoulders? Every decision he thought was trivial now reveals ramifications he had not suspected. His future, which he imagined as a straight path dictated by his rank, turns into a dark labyrinth.
The hours stretch on, endless. He knows this moment marks a turning point, a door he can no longer close. His fingers slide to the pendant he always wears—a simple jewel engraved with the waves of Sel, a symbol of his heritage. He grips it gently, seeking solace in this familiar gesture. But even this old habit is not enough to quell the doubt creeping into him. Is he truly ready for what awaits him? Finally, exhausted by his own thoughts, he falls into a restless sleep, haunted by unanswered questions.
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Morning arrives, bathing the room in golden light, but Mero finds no respite. The cool air of dawn seeps through the slightly open window, carrying the salty scent that reminds him of Sel. Yet, his mind remains heavy, captive to the decisions looming on the horizon. The silence amplifies this sense of urgency, each second seeming suspended in anticipation.
A discreet knock at the door rouses him from his stupor. The tailor enters, a slim man with precise movements, a master of fabric. Without a superfluous word, he unfolds his cloths—deep blues, subtle golds—and adjusts the measurements with almost mechanical assurance. Mero watches him in silence, fascinated by this quest for perfection in the details. Today, even his clothes seem to bear a new significance, reflecting the ambition growing within him. Once dressed in this more imperial attire, he looks at himself in the mirror. The image staring back is no longer that of a prince in the making but of a man ready to face his destiny—or at least, to try.
Classes begin shortly after, quite different from those of Master Antonin and his unyielding rigor. These lessons demand total attention, immersing Mero in the intricacies of the Empire: its laws, alliances, and political subtleties. The professors, noticing his seriousness, push him towards more complex subjects—maritime strategies, advanced diplomacy. He does not seek to shine but to surpass himself, devouring each concept with insatiable curiosity. It is a challenge he sets for himself, a way to test his limits against the role imposed upon him.
Late in the morning, a courier knocks at his door. Mero welcomes him with a nod and hands him a package—vibrant paintings of stormy seas and snowy peaks, a gift for Mandarine. "Deliver it to the pirates," he instructs calmly. "Here are the instructions." The courier bows, takes the package, and disappears silently. These small gestures, these discreet transactions, reinforce his feeling of being caught in an invisible network, a web where every thread counts.
The day ends with another intense session of classes. Mero throws himself into them wholeheartedly, naturally forging bonds with his classmates. Laughter erupts between debates, and discussions become animated around the study tables. Even the imperial princess, usually distant, seems to appreciate his presence, a fleeting smile softening her stern face. He cultivates this fragile balance between respect and camaraderie, carefully avoiding the pitfalls of intrigue that whisper through the halls.
Little by little, he finds his place—not only among his peers but within this Empire he is beginning to understand. He is no longer a mere spectator of the power games. He is an actor, a prince whose every step resonates further than he had imagined. And if this thought still frightens him, it also ignites a spark of excitement: that of a future he must shape, come what may.
