Bitterness rose in Aerys's throat like bile.
He thought of the words he would speak. Of those cold eyes sweeping over the crowd. Again and again, it felt as though he could already sense his presence. Aerys knew he would be there to welcome the new promotion. Soon, he would stand before him. Aerys would hear his voice.
Rage stirred inside him.
The mere idea of seeing him in person twisted his gut.
The Emperor Or rather—his father.
They landed on a wide arrival platform. The candidates were guided toward a vast marble plaza overlooking the valley. The night air was cool and sharp. Ahead of them, the gates of the Imperial Academy rose in solemn silence.
Nearly a thousand young men and women stood gathered there, all radiating arrogance in varying degrees.
Aerys knew how the Empire was structured Imperial bloodlines stood at the top. Beneath them came the four ducal families and the high nobility. Below that, the lesser nobles—dozens of minor houses barely more significant than commoners. The Imperial Magic Academy opened only once every ten years, tasked with forging a new elite.
This generation was different.
The heirs of the Emperor himself were present Because of that, this academic cycle had already earned its name: the Heirship Competition.
For the lower nobility—and for the rare commoner admitted—it was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. Aligning oneself with a future heir could decide an entire bloodline's fate.
Beyond the gates stretched the Great stone Ground, vast enough to contain them all. The candidates looked excited. Nervous. Hungry. Tonight, they would witness the Emperor in person.
A tall, middle-aged man stood atop a massive stage, flanked by advisers and legionnaires.
"Look—on the stage!"one said
"If he's here, the Emperor will arrive soon."said somone else
"I'll see his face for the first time in my life…"
From the left side of the platform, the man stepped forward. Long crimson hair framed a hardened face etched by battle and authority. His gaze swept over the crowd with open disdain.
Fools, Aerys imagined him thinking. So many fools.
Aerys recognized him from the records.
Leos Alumnis.The Fire King Former Praetor of the Imperium Militarum.if the arhimperator only acted on the emperor's orders with imperators under him then Praetors are their second in command with enormous fighting prowess. monsters of war in their own right.
Leos's sharp eyes moved across the front ranks of the candidates. He immediately noticed the boys with golden eyes and silver hair standing together.
The ducal heirs, Aerys realized .
Leos glanced at the boys positioned at the very front of the assembly.
he knew their names.
Lyndorias Sword Family — Deronus Aurelyon
Solmeros Blade Family — Corlys Aurelyon
Nimeryus Fist Family — Niklaus Aurelyon
Vaelaris Spear Family — Jhanor Aurelyon
he studied them briefly.
Impressive, his expression seemed to say. For children.
Then his gaze shifted.
It lingered.
At the very back of the formation, near the entrance, one boy stood alone.
Aerys Aurelyon.
The heir without a ducal house, Leos must have thought.
A son of the Emperor—yet barred from the front. The others kept their distance from him, whether from fear or contempt, Aerys could not tell.
Leos's interest faded quickly.
Aerys had no known training in magic or martial disciplines. To men like Leos, his fate was already decided.
He will fail, Aerys sensed the judgment. Or die.
Aerys surveyed the sea of candidates before him. Nearly a thousand.
He was not late.
And yet, despite his blood, he had been pushed to the back.
The work of the ducal factions, no doubt.
Better this way, he told himself. Avoiding them from the start is safer.
They had wanted him dead long before the Academy. Distance suited him.
A horn blasted across the training ground.
The murmuring stopped.
Someone had arrived.
A thousand voices erupted into cheers.
A man stepped forward.
Long silver hair.
Amber eyes blazing like twin suns.
The sight was almost painful.
A crowned, double-headed eagle gleamed upon his chest—the sigil of House Aurelyon, worn only by the Emperor himself. He stood perfectly still, as though the world had slowed to accommodate his presence.
His tall frame was encased in finely wrought mithril armor, adorned with gold and white. Its restrained brilliance spoke not of vanity, but of absolute authority. His features were calm, severe, untouched by doubt. His golden gaze did not dominate through menace, but through certainty—the certainty of a man who had proven his strength beyond question.
This was power made flesh.
Aerys had read of such figures in imperial history. Men and women shaped by the Academy—those who learned the secrets that allowed them to rise above the world and dominate it.
The Emperor ascended the stage and seated himself upon a Throne.
Perugius Aurelyon.
Even without his titles, his presence crushed the air itself.
Aerys could barely breathe.
Around the Emperor stood six figures clad in jet-black armor—fearsome, silent, forged from a mithril alloy .
The Obsidian Wardens.
Six sworn knights. A closed brotherhood, bound not by blood, but by oath.
They answered to no duke ,No council ,No academy.
Their sole purpose was the protection of the Emperor and the Obsidian Throne.
Aerys felt a chill crawl up his spine.
Then Leos stepped forward and roared:
"SILENCE!"
His voice, reinforced by internal Essence, swept the grounds like a physical force. The training field fell instantly quiet.
"The Most Honored One," Leos said, bowing. "All is prepared."
He turned back toward the throne.
Perugius Aurelyon rose.
Aerys's stomach tightened.
The Emperor was about to speak.
A speech Aerys did not want to hear—
but had no choice but to endure.