The embers of dissent still flickered within the Empire, fueled by those who clung to the old ways. Charlie, stripped of his authority but not his arrogance, became a rallying point for these hardliners. Whispers of a stolen victory, of a weakened Empire surrendering its power to the melody's manipulative magic, echoed in the shadows.
Alex, aware of this simmering discontent, knew peace wouldn't be easy. He addressed the Emperor and the assembled council, his voice firm yet measured. "Some," he began, his gaze sweeping across the room, "still believe this peace is a weakness, a concession to the rebellion's whims. They mock me, use my lack of a mother as an insult. They force me to justify my very existence."
