“Why, for the glory of the Ildiran people, of course.”

“K’llar bekh! You are too naive to be my Prime Designate!” The Mage-Imperator stirred restlessly in his chrysalis chair, and his braid twitched. “I expect such complacent acceptance from the overall population, but you should be able to see into the shadows and read details that only an expert would notice.” His voice carried harsh disappointment and deep annoyance.

Feeling scolded, Jora’h mumbled, “Then what is the reason, Father? Please enlighten me.”

The Mage-Imperator heaved himself up in the womblike chair. “Because our Ildiran Empire is indeed fading, just as the snide humans suspect! We withdrew our splinter colony on Crenna because of the plague there, but we have abandoned other worlds as well, giving up our territory. Have you not seen how the humans snap up every available planet, spreading like a fire? And instead of being satisfied, they grow hungrier still with each new settlement.”

His braid thrashed about like an angry snake. Unconsciously, Jora’h took a hesitant step backward. The Mage-Imperator spoke with deep-seated anger. “But not us. Ildirans retreat instead of expand. We withdraw instead of explore. Our power is waning … and has been for centuries.”

Jora’h looked at his father in shock. “I have never heard such a suggestion.”

“You have never bothered to notice,” the Mage-Imperator snapped. “That is the reason we must increase our pageantry and historical celebrations. An old human record calls it ‘bread and circuses’ to distract the populace. So long as the Ildiran people believe in the grandeur all around them, we will be able to convince ourselves it is real.”

Reeling with the information, Jora’h tried to absorb the new perspective on reality. He didn’t doubt his father’s words—how could anyone question the Mage-Imperator? The leader would never lie to him, and indeed he was wiser than any other member of their race. With the thism, he saw through the eyes of all his subjects, which gave him a nearly omnipotent perspective.

“Do my … do my brothers, the other Designates, know this? Am I the only one who is so blind?”

Now the Mage-Imperator seemed to take pity on Jora’h. “All of my sons are different. The Dobro Designate is hardened and finds no joy in his life, though he works harder to serve me than anyone else. The Hyrillka Designate is overwhelmed with his meager duties at the edge of the Horizon Cluster and has a somewhat magnified perception of his importance and status in the Empire. The Maratha Designate is hedonistic, finding joy in his pursuits, and does little to think about the Empire beyond his own walls. But each son hears me through the thism. Each one feels my thoughts and my decisions, and they all obey. As it should be.