"If you say," Ardasa sighed, reluctantly turning her head back towards the statue. It stayed as unmoving and grim as it always had. Was this a condemnation, or an encouragement? Only the three gods knew what they wanted from their servants, and for reasons only known to their great wisdom, they didn't say much. What Kali said made sense, it always did. Still, all this deception, working behind the curtain stuff all seemed a bit . . . dishonest, didn't it? It wasn't always like this. She remembered being a tribal girl, running across sand and shrubbery with her father's strongest warriors and all the other children of the tribe. She was the chief's daughter, but felt nonetheless a part of a greater whole. Maybe the title of empress is too big for her. Having a tribe of a hundred thousand made the connection felt between all members fuzzy, then severs it altogether. It was so different, with rules between kobolds even when there weren't. Maybe she did need to have some agency over how the Empire was being run. To teach these people, so many of them former laborers and slaves, the way the kobolds lived before dracons took power. "Could you teach me?" Ardasa asked. Dare she dream it, the statue of Arda cracked a small smile at that.