"The Most Honored One, it is ready."
Leos turned back and spoke quietly.
The Emperor rose from his throne.
"To all who have entered the Academy," he said, "you are the future of the Empire."
Unlike Leos, he did not shout. His voice was calm, almost gentle—yet it reached every one of the thousand boys and girls without effort. It was not volume that carried his words, but power.
"I welcome you all. You have been selected from among hundreds of families, spread across thousands of cities throughout the Empire. You stand at the summit of the pyramid."
Aerys felt his chest tighten.
"Now that you stand in this place, I trust you understand the gravity of the task before you. Today, you begin a conquest—the conquest of your place within the most glorious caste. You who have come to this historic ground from every corner of the Empire, from the Northern, Southern, Eastern, and Western Dominions…"
I feel like I'm dreaming, Aerys thought. Yesterday, I was on the verge of death. The day before, I barely escaped it.
High above the Emperor, in the darkened sky, stars were moving.
They were not stars.
They were the Fifth and Sixth Fleets.
The Imperial Armada of airships.
Aerys held his breath.
The Sixth Fleet was commanded by Tiberos Bellos—Callius's father. The warships belonged to the imperium militarum, all sworn allegiance to the Emperor.
The Emperor spoke of why it was their destiny—his destiny—to rule.
Gooseflesh rose along Aerys's arms.
He felt small.
Thousands of tons of mithril drifted overhead, engines powered with essence . He, who had never left Ashber, stood beneath them. From the ground, they looked like shards of silver scattered across a sea of ink.
It was a lie.
They were weapons—capable of annihilation, of devastation, of erasing cities from existence. They ruled the sky.
the Archimperator is in comand of the imperium militarum and he answer the Emperor with Imperators at his orders who each command a fleet and beneath them Praetors each in command of a legion.
And what could I become, Aerys wondered, with such power in my hands?
Unperturbed, the Emperor continued.
Aerys swallowed the hatred rising in his throat.
Yesterday, his enemies had been distant—abstract, unreachable. His anger had been cold and controlled.
Today, he could see them.
And it burned.
"Civilizations obey an immutable law," the Emperor said evenly. "They are born in Barbarism, where raw strength forges their foundations. They rise through Ascension, when that strength is disciplined, ordered, and placed in service of purpose. And they fall into Decadence, when weakness, doubt, and indulgence are tolerated."
His golden gaze swept across the assembly without lingering on a single face.
"The Empire exists to interrupt this cycle."
He paused—just long enough for the words to sink in.
"We preserve the Barbarism necessary for greatness. We impose Ascension through law, hierarchy, and the Academy. And we crush all Decadence before it can take root."
A shiver passed through the ranks.
"You are the elite of the Empire," the Emperor continued. "But you have not yet known pain. You have been sheltered. Protected."
His voice hardened.
"Those who stand here today are not called to be happy. They are called to be useful. Those who fail will serve as examples. Those who survive will carry the Empire further than their predecessors."
His gaze sharpened.
"Such is the privilege of power."
And that was all.
He turned away.
Leos stepped closer. "That was a wonderful speech," he said quietly.
The Emperor left the stage, surrounded by his guards, Leos guiding him. The display of dominance was so absolute that the students remained silent for several heartbeats—
Then they erupted.
"FOR THE EMPIRE!"
Rage surged through Aerys.
He had not seen his father in fifteen years. And yet, the moment the Emperor had risen, his gaze had found him—standing at the farthest edge of the stone ground.
Cold.
Indifferent.
Aerys bit down hard on his tongue. His body burned. He trembled with emotion. Blood filled his mouth.
I don't care anyway, he told himself.
The Emperor had not appeared when his mother—Lady Selenia—had died.
There had been no disappointment left. Only fury.
The crowd slowly fell silent as the Fire King stood once more upon the stage.
"With His speech concluded," Leos declared, "we will now begin."