Sylvara's Rebirth: A New Dawn for Abel novel Chapter 115

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**Chapter 115: Power and Privilege**

Entrusting Blake with the command of 150,000 royal guards was a decision of monumental consequence, a move that sent ripples of tension throughout Centria, the very political heart of the Troya Empire. The weight of such power was not lost on anyone; the air was thick with the unspoken understanding that with Blake at the helm, any flicker of dissent would be met with an immediate and devastating response. At a moment’s notice, artillery could rain down, a grim reminder of the Emperor’s iron grip on authority.

Veyric’s voice shifted from a resigned sigh to a tone laced with envy. “You know, when the Emperor wed the Empress, he adhered to the strictest royal protocols imaginable. He elevated her status to match his own, ensuring they are both addressed as ‘Your Majesty.’ It’s almost poetic, isn’t it?”

Sylvara rolled her eyes, her tone dripping with sarcasm. “Oh, what a nauseatingly sweet love story that is. It’s like something out of a fairy tale, and it’s painfully enviable. Just hearing it makes me feel a twinge of jealousy.”

The narrative of their love was like an intricate web, weaving two souls together, each thread a testament to their devotion, each moment a step in their perfectly choreographed dance of affection.

“Yeah, that disgustingly sweet love,” Veyric echoed, a hint of bitterness in his voice. “Every time I reflect on their story, I can’t help but fantasize about marrying into a family with a protective brother-in-law. Could the Emperor’s brother-in-law be a cross-dressing queen? Or perhaps a dashing male lead?”

Sylvara’s mind wandered, and she finally grasped why Aslan took such delight in stripping away her masks; she felt an overwhelming urge to peel back Blake’s layers as well.

“Good luck with that,” she teased, raising her fist in mock encouragement. “Who knows? You might actually stumble upon one.”

Veyric bumped his fist against hers, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. “If I do find someone, I’ll treat you to candy. A whole bag of it!”

“Deal—”

Suddenly, a voice rang out from two rows ahead, cutting through their banter like a knife. “Mr. Kenobia!”

Blake’s voice, gravelly and commanding, echoed through the hall like a clap of thunder. “Speak.”

The student, twisting awkwardly in his seat, pointed accusingly at Sylvara. “Mr. Kenobia, there’s a Culinary Department student mixed in with our Mecha Department. We request that you address this issue.”

Sylvara, who had been quietly minding her own business in the back row, felt a wave of indignation wash over her. How had trouble found her so easily?

“I haven’t made a peep,” she thought, feeling thoroughly wronged.

Blake’s demeanor remained calm, a steady presence amidst the brewing storm. “I instructed her to stand there,” he stated simply, his eyes narrowing slightly at the snitch.

Norris Moody, the self-appointed informant, raised his voice defiantly. “Mr. Kenobia, this is the Mecha Department! We’re preparing for battle. How can we allow someone from the Culinary Department to stand among us and drag us down?”

With his hands clasped behind his back, Blake regarded Norris with a cool gaze. Your inquiry is valid, he seemed to convey silently. I haven’t introduced myself properly; my last name is Kenobia. You may refer to me as Mr. Kenobia.