— Classic's POV
I stood just behind the ring of senior advisors, my hands clasped behind my back, dressed in full Blackwood military garb. The moment Amara's request for five million B.A.M units was granted, I felt the tremor run through the room. Gasps. Side glances. Whispers. Some impressed. Some afraid. Some simply stunned.
But I wasn't going to keep silent—not today.
I stepped forward, the floor echoing beneath my boots, and looked directly at the man who had built all this—my father.
> "Dad…" I said, my voice firm but respectful, "isn't this… too much?"
The entire council chamber froze. A prince questioning the emperor wasn't something you saw often—hell, you didn't see it at all. But I wasn't here to impress. I was here to be heard.
Chris turned slowly, his eyes cold and unreadable. But I didn't back down. Not from him.
> "Five million elite troops, fully armed, under one command… her command. That's more soldiers than most kingdoms ever dream of fielding. This isn't defense anymore. This is… domination."
The tension was thick enough to slice with a blade.
Amara didn't flinch. She just watched me, like a panther watches the silence before a kill.
> "If she has five million," I continued, gesturing toward her, "what does everyone else have? What happens to balance? To accountability?"
Chris exhaled, just once. Then he descended the steps of the throne platform and came closer.
> "Classic," he said, "there was a time you would never question me. Not in public."
I felt that. Deep. But I swallowed it and stood tall.
> "There was a time the empire didn't bleed inside its own walls," I answered.
The room stirred again.
Chris's eyes narrowed. But he didn't yell. He didn't strike.
> "This is not about fear, my son," he said. "It's about control. And Amara is the control I trust."
He stepped even closer, close enough that his voice dropped to a whisper only I could hear.
> "If you still want to support me in silence, I suggest you remember which side you're whispering from."
He walked past me.
The council sat paralyzed.
And I stood there, heart pounding, realizing something important:
This wasn't about a throne anymore.
It was about who would shape what the Blackwood name meant—for generations.
—