The President thought about the good he had done for his country- its rescue from oppressors who ruled before him and its unification being just the start. Every year of his rule, Brihalbus had taken the country further forward, further away from the tyranny of before and closer to the country of his vision.
He was a man who had come from nowhere to lead. Just an ordinary man who had ascended from nothing to be chosen by the people to alter the ways of the past. Power that had been entrusted and bestowed in him. And it was for him to decide the method. For him to decide the direction. And no one could change that.
Except maybe one person.
The President looked up at the sun and reflected on how it saw everything- even at night its light reflects and keeps watch. Only once a month did man gain a guaranteed, and brief, rest from its watchful eye. He spoke to her often, discussing his plans past, present and future. She never responded, only listened. But like no one else listened. She heard his words with care and reverence. Not with the barely disguised fear inherent in others. No, she was his companion, his confidant. But- sometimes- his judge.
He looked quickly away from the sun: to the clouds, to the sky- anywhere but to see what he had done. Sometimes it got too much. But always he thought of the good. The good that pulled him through.
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