The night breeze drifts by, cooling your skin. Not that there is much to cool, considering the outfit you have to wear.
It's one of the castle's smaller balconies, but it still has a decent view. And most importantly…
You curl your fingers around the divine weapon attached to your belt. There's more than just the balcony now. The hallway, the courtyard in front of you, and even a bit of the nearby tower appear before your eyes. All in that quasi-aerial perspective that Breidablik is so fond of giving you. A quick scan is all that's needed.
...I'm alone.
Relinquishing your grip, the image dissolves. With a sigh, you shrug off your hood, allowing you to truly enjoy the fair weather. Your folded arms serve as a passable cushion as you rest your head on the railing.
Was it sad that this balcony was officially more private than your room? Well…
On one hand, you appreciated that the heroes genuinely seemed to value your company and input. A smile tugs at the corners of your mouth as you think about Fae and the Kanas knocking on your door, asking you to read them a bedtime story. It widens as you remember Virion marching into your room with his gemstone chess set. The game was but a vehicle for his admiration and determination. It was crazy, the idea that you could have such an impact on people.
Crazy.
A cringe shudders through your body. There were some heroes you wish you hadn't made an impression with. Valter and his perverse bloodlust spring to mind. The battlefields had been filled with uneven terrain, and you only had one other flier. Even with healing magic available, you didn't like seeing the heroes getting hurt. That was the only reason you had trained him up.
Ever since he had opened up to you, you've been seeing him around the castle more and more. The worst was whenever you sensed him outside your door at night, fingers slowly closing around the doorknob. Spear at his side. Husky mutterings spilling from his lips. On those nights—on most nights now, you gripped Breidablik tightly, pushing your will into it.
"Please leave me alone."
Upon that thought, he would leave. All the heroes would, actually. It didn't seem to matter the amount of interaction you had with them. You had done it accidentally once. You were about to go to bed, when the doorknob turned. The thought shot out. It was purely reflexive. Who else would have just come into your room without knocking? Well, it was Nino. Shortly after summoning her, she confided that she could not read, so you decided to teach her about reading and writing. Judging by the papers in her hand, she was probably excited about showing you how much her spelling had improved. It was the assignment you gave her, after all.
You watched her sunny face scrunch into indecision, before yawning and heading back to her room.
It hit you the most then. The frightening amount of control you had. In a way you had already realized it, but using it to stop opposing heroes from fighting and for keeping yourself safe from the more 'obsessive' heroes was one thing. An unfortunate necessity. You didn't want to be some creep, bending everyone to your will.
But it seems to happen regardless.
Your eyes drift down to it as it gleams in the moonlight. Numerous heroes had sworn fealty to you, some bordering on something more amorous. Even heroes that you've never directly influenced with it. But how much of it was truly because of you?
Was it a sort of passive effect? An innate defense mechanism for the wielder? Breidablik seemed happy to give information on heroes, weapons, skills—anything but itself.
It just doesn't sit right with me.
Sighing once more, you pull on your hood and walk back to your room.