In a dimly lit chamber, Valtor leaned back in his chair, his cold gaze locked onto a much younger Ogron. The air between them was thick with a foreboding sense of wisdom about to be imparted, wisdom that shaped Ogron into the man—and king—he would become.
"There are different kinds of people in this world,"Valtor began, his voice smooth and deliberate, every word dripping with the arrogance of someone who knew his place at the top. "Some are rabbits. They're timid, fragile, prey to the more cunning and powerful. Then, there are wolves…"He paused, eyes glinting as a knowing smile tugged at his lips. "Like you and me. We are hunters, Ogron. We know what we want, and we take it. We thrive on control, dominance. We're the ones who dictate the rules."
Ogron leaned forward, intrigued, his youthful ambition clear in the way he absorbed every word.
"But," Valtor continued, his tone shifting to something sharper, more pointed, "then there are the dogs. You see, dogs are loyal, obedient, and hardworking. They are the best version of a person you can have by your side. A dog will follow you anywhere, do anything you ask, no questions. But…" Valtor's eyes narrowed, his smile turning cruel. "You must train a dog. You must put it in its place. A dog must always know who's in charge. If you let it think it's an equal, or worse, if you neglect to remind it who holds the power… it will bite."
Ogron's eyes flickered with understanding, his mind already thinking of how this applied to the people around him.
"But if you keep that dog in line," Valtor finished, leaning in closer, his voice a dark whisper, "if you assert yourself, show it where it belongs, then it will be the most loyal companion you could ever ask for. It will live and die for you. But never forget… the moment you grow soft, the moment you show weakness… even the most loyal dog will turn on you."