My father used to tell me no one is perfect, and I told him I knew for sure that was a lie. How could it be truth, when he stood larger than life, perfect in his wisdom before me. It is only now that I am beginning to understand how right we both were—no one is perfect, and my father is indeed very wise.
Am I the only one who sees that?
Some days I cannot help wondering if I can trust my own eyes. I see things in Alrec that no one else does. I’m not blind to his flaws, but unlike Father, I’m also not blind to his merits.
And Father… oh, Father. He spoke true of his imperfection, but I see how much he craves better days. I’ll never stop looking for them for him. For everyone.
We will never manage to make all our subjects content, but I can content myself with making them safe. Even if they fight me at every step.