The half-hour passed as slowly as a hellish march. Croy now stood on the central square in front of the mighty main building of the Academy. Before the entrance stood a gigantic statue of the Emperor - long live the Emperor - with a large podium in front of it. Beside it were several booths where the new students would be attended to.
Croy had checked in his suitcase and registered his presence. But entry into the Academy would only be granted after the official welcome. So he now stood in the middle of the main square with at least a thousand other students, all awaiting the new semester.
A few groups had already formed. There were the individual years who were already at the Academy - already in uniform. They stood among themselves and occupied themselves by casting amused glances at the newcomers.
Among the newcomers, there were clearer distinctions. Approximately two hundred, Croy estimated. Only few when one considers that the Empire houses millions of people, but not all were Spellcasters, and there were other academies.
A prominent group gathered in the middle of the square. Almost all new students had shown up in suits and dresses, but theirs seemed to fit better. Not only were the clothes a bit more imposing; it was simply the way they wore them that distinguished these students from others like Croy.
Children of nobility and powerful houses.
Another group apparently consisted of simpler students from more modest backgrounds. They gathered as well.
Many simply stood around individually and waited patiently for the rector and the speech of the Emperor - long live the Emperor.
As for Croy...
Unfortunately, he had yet to find the gathering of orphan child soldiers.
So he waited too, albeit rather impatiently.
'Maybe I can catch a glimpse of the imperial twins. Or another pretty young lady. Ah, but please not Inera, that would be awkward.'
He looked around. There was hardly a shortage of beautiful faces, whether male or female, but unfortunately, he couldn't spot the two daughters of the Emperor anywhere.
They probably wouldn't be standing out in the open. Maybe they were at the center of the aristocrat group.
'What else do we have?'
His wandering gaze rested several times on students but never for very long. They were all impressive, but he was looking for the really big names.
'Oh, he looks dangerous.'
It was a boy with blond hair tied up in a bun. He was clearly taller than Croy and had a sharp chin - so sharp you could cut yourself on it. That seemed quite unfair.
Croy recognized the emblem of House Jradan embroidered on the shoulder pads of his imposing suit. That must be the eldest son of the head of the house. The young lord had a highly indifferent expression while being chatted up by other students.
Unfortunately, Croy couldn't recall the name of the young heir, but he had heard that his talent as a Spellcaster even surpassed that of his famous father.
His gaze wandered further. There was a smaller boy with a yellow fisherman's hat.
Elsewhere, he spotted a slender, almost cute, completely pale boy with long black hair. He looked like a doll, dressed in a black coat. On such a sunny day, he must be hot.
Suddenly, he heard two students next to him.
"Oh, look at her! Hot Imperial Waffles, I have to go talk to her sometime."
Croy followed their gaze - there was indeed a special beauty who had appeared. She wore a simple, azure-blue dress, in which she apparently felt hardly comfortable, judging by the way she walked.
It was a bit of a shame - she looked absolutely enchanting. It would be a crime to take that dress off her again...
'Stop!'
What was wrong with him today? Were these newly discovered hormones or what? It seemed as if the battlefield had held back all youthful developments in him, which had all now decided to appear at once.
Nevertheless, he continued to look at the young woman.
Golden-blonde long hair fell beside her lovely face. She had blue eyes, even deeper blue than Cookoff's.
He was practically gawking at her when her gaze suddenly met his.
Instinctively, his hand shot to his hip, and he reached for his Spellpistol - or tried to, but he wasn't carrying it.
Beads of sweat suddenly formed on his forehead. He realized what he had just tried to do and grabbed his hand by the wrist with his other hand, holding it down.
His heart pounded against his ribs. The girl tilted her head in confusion, then turned her gaze away and continued walking. Croy watched her with wide eyes.
He wasn't even a Sensor or had any sensor spell activated. And yet he had felt the immense mana when their gazes met.
'Holy shit. Where have I ended up?'
It seemed Spider hadn't exaggerated when he said he still had much to discover as a Spellcaster.
Still a bit unsettled, a massive gong suddenly sounded, snapping him out of his shock. He whirled around.
A figure stepped onto the podium. It was a middle-aged man with broad shoulders. His black hair was slicked back, and he wore a long robe in the colors of the Academy.
Silence fell over the square. No, it seemed as if the city fell silent in anticipation of the rector's words.
The rector raised his hand, and the crowd on the main square grew quiet. He stepped to the center of the podium, let his gaze glide over the assembled faces, and finally lifted his chin as he began to speak with a strong, clear voice that echoed across the entire square.
He didn't use a microphone but a clean transmission spell. For a moment, Croy felt impressed, then his attention returned to the rector's words.
"Welcome, future Spellcasters, chosen students of the Empire!" the rector began, his voice full of confidence.
"My name is Dragan Valerius. You are now part of the Imperial Academy, the highest temple of knowledge and the magical arts in the entire realm. These walls have already produced many great Spellcasters, and now you are here to walk the path of the elite as well."
'Elite?'
Croy involuntarily raised an eyebrow. This term had been seldom used by his superiors at the front - there, the unit counted more than the individual. Elite or not, at the front, you fought and died together.
Of course, the young talents here were extraordinary, but Croy would have called Spider and the others elite as well. Actually, he had done that before, but they never supported his choice of words.
The rector continued speaking, undeterred, his words carried by a certain pride and a hint of haughtiness.
"The Empire is the most powerful nation in this world, and each of you has been called here because you show extraordinary potential. Because you can become the best Spellcasters of your generation. You are not just students; you are the future of the realm."
Croy observed the assembled crowd. The students in uniform looked expectantly at the podium, while the newcomers, including himself, wavered between curiosity and a certain pride. Almost all listened intently to the rector.
The rector took a deep breath, as if enjoying the moment, then continued: "Today is a special day - not only because the semester begins but because we can proudly announce that the Empire is finally united. After all the years of uprising and bloodshed, the rebels have been finally defeated."
Croy's heart skipped a beat.
'So Spider and the others have done it.'
The last strongholds of the rebels had fallen. The murderers of his family... were finally dead.
At last... Yet as the rector continued, a strange empty feeling came over him.
Why didn't he feel more joy?
He thought about how often he had imagined this moment - how he had hoped that this victory would trigger a feeling of revenge, of triumph in him.
But now he felt... nothing. Nothing except the faint echo of a thought.
'Is the war really over?'
It sounded so strange in his head. The murderers of his family were dead, but he hadn't even been there at the end.
The rector's words washed over him, and Croy directed his attention back to the speech. At the moment, it seemed he couldn't quite grasp the magnitude of it all. He'd think about it later...
"We have defended the Empire and ended the chaos that plagued us for years. But now," his voice became firmer, more urgent, "the responsibility lies with you, the coming generation. The Academy will not only teach you to master powerful spells but also prepare you for the responsibility that comes with this power. You are here because the Empire needs people like you - strong, honorable, courageous spellcasters."
Croy sensed that many of the other students straightened up, absorbing the words. A hint of ambition reflected in the faces around him, but within himself, only a quiet unease stirred.
All the euphoria about the victory, the jubilation - it felt strangely foreign. He himself felt somehow... out of place. But he had been there, right in the middle of the battles. Of all people, he should be the happiest.
After a brief pause, the rector solemnly raised his voice: "With pride, I now welcome His Majesty, our light, the Emperor, Queltis Cericius!"
A soft murmur went through the crowd, and Croy's heart began to pound wildly. The Emperor - long live the Emperor - stepped onto the podium, exuding unshakable authority.
He was taller than the rector, had long silver hair and a well-groomed beard. His face was stern yet somehow youthful. He was the Emperor, the ruler of the Empire.
Long live the Emperor.
Each step seemed to reveal another piece of the mighty aura that surrounded him. As he spoke, it seemed as if the whole city stood still for a moment.
"Citizens and future Spellcasters of the Empire!" the Emperor began, his voice powerfully carrying through the crowd like a flaming call that stirred and captivated.
"Today, I stand before you not only as your Emperor but also as your comrade, to celebrate the end of the war and the reunification of our realm. The rebels are defeated, their positions have fallen, and the Empire is at peace again."
A moment of silence, then applause swelled. But the Emperor raised his hand, and the crowd fell silent.
"This peace was bought through the sacrifice and courage of our troops, and I thank all those who fought at the front. But now, you, the future Spellcasters of the Empire, are called upon to do your part."
His eyes swept over the crowd, and Croy felt as if his gaze rested almost tangibly on him, though he knew he was imagining it.
"You are the hope of the Empire," the Emperor continued.
"You are not here to grow only for yourselves - you are here to mature into great men and women who protect our values and our security. The rebellion has taught us a valuable lesson: Evil can lurk anywhere, even in the heart of our realm. Therefore, it is your duty to master your power and serve as a shield and sword against evil. The Empire needs you, and I trust that you will rise to this call."
He paused.
"That was what I had to say to you as your Emperor."
His gaze suddenly became less stern, even a bit sad. Croy suddenly felt moved. Before him stood now not only the ruler of the realm, but also a man with feelings and dreams, like any other human.
His next words were softer spoken and carried something else with them.
"They took my wife from me. You all know that my wife, the Empress, succumbed to her wounds when the rebels dared a treacherous attack on the palace."
Now it was silent. No one whispered a word. Croy also remembered the day he had heard this news. He had already been a soldier then. He had never seen the Emperor himself.
And yet he had wept, as if his parents had died a second time.
"I have two daughters. I was often told I needed to sire a male heir. I laughed at those people. My two daughters shine brighter than any flame in this palace, I told them... They are like their mother."
The Emperor smiled weakly.
"My wife raised my daughters into precious diamonds. They are my greatest pride and all that remains to me after their mother's death. I am the Emperor, and I am also a father."
"And evil has not only taken parts of my Empire from me but also the love of my life. It stole our peace and the mother of my daughters. They took my people and took your loved ones from some of you as well."
Then he looked up, his smile vanished, replaced by an iron gaze.
"Therefore! Not only as Emperor but as a father and friend! I, Emperor Queltis Cericius, eighty-third ruler of the Empire, son of Emperor Malik Cericius the Great, father of my greatest joys, I ask you to grow and fill me with the pride of a father of each one of you!"
For what felt like an eternity, it was silent. The words resonated within Croy, warmed his heart. Then, applause and cheers surged across the square. The Emperor had ignited the crowd, and Croy could feel this fire beginning to blaze within him as well.
"Long live the Emperor!" the crowd shouted again and again. Their ruler waved to them, a broad smile on his stern face.
Croy shouted out.
"Long live the Emperor!"