The large screens lit up, displaying two graphs: one for the "YES" votes, the other for the "NO" votes. The question was also shown in bold letters, looking like this:
"Timothy Jody, Master of Charms and Transfiguration, one of the heroes of the Paris Massacre, savior of the Championship, Headmaster of Charmbaton, and one of the strongest wizards on the planet, should become the new Emperor. Yes. No."
I didn't have the right to vote, but the aristocrats did. Each noble house held a single card on which they could choose either a green square or a red one—green for "YES," red for "NO." Naturally, the Charmakens and the de Mendoses couldn't choose red. So two green votes in my favor immediately appeared on the screen. After that, votes from the other houses began coming in as well. And of course, no one was voting against — which brought me no small amount of joy.
But then, a single "NO" vote appeared. I wondered who could have dared. My mild irritation manifested as a faint but noticeable ripple of magic. All the aristocrats felt it — and hurried to conclude the voting. When the final vote was cast, the screen showed the results: "YES" and "NO." Only one house had voted against me, which meant I had no real opposition. Everyone else had voted in favor.
"Excellent," Florian nodded. "And now we have the results of the vote. As you all know, by ancient tradition, after the election of a new Emperor, there is a period during which anyone may challenge him to a duel — before the coronation. If you have any grievances against the newly elected, but not yet crowned, Emperor, now is your time."
"I have a grievance!" came an old, quavering voice.
I turned toward the platform the voice had come from. There, standing on a bench, was an ancient man with a long gray beard. His face was a network of wrinkles, and his clothing was strange and difficult to categorize. But what drew the most attention was his hat. I can't compare it to anything.
"Lord Koshetsky," Florian acknowledged him with a nod.
"I challenge this false Emperor, this liar and thief, to a duel to the death," he declared loudly. "I, Androsh Koshetsky, will destroy this impostor and restore justice!"
I stood and, using a bit of magic, gracefully descended onto the dueling grounds. All eyes were on me now. The aristocrats studied my features, searching for... something. I don't know what. But I smiled. The chance to deal with opposition in a way that caused me no problems — and served to intimidate the rest? That didn't come around often.
"I, Timothy Jody, accept this challenge to a duel," I said loudly. Since I wasn't yet crowned, I wouldn't use the title.
The master of ceremonies appeared on the field and handed me a small flag.
"Lord Koshetsky," Anduin addressed him, "Are you going to duel yourself, or are you appointing a champion?"
"A champion," the old man said with a smug grin. "Jamil Asanat will fight in my stead."
A powerful, muscular man rose beside him. His expression was calm, and he wore a smirk. Skimming his emotions lightly, I sensed only confidence — confidence in his strength and in his belief that he would grind me into dust. Foolish. He hadn't even noticed my light mental probe. In short... I had no reason to fear him. At all.
The duelist descended the steps and vaulted over a low barrier. He shrugged off his outerwear, revealing a truly muscular physique. That might impress someone — but not me. What are muscles worth without magical power or skill? What caught my attention was the thick revolver holstered at his side, which he occasionally touched. So that was his secret. A Muggle weapon... how banal and unoriginal.
"Timothy Jody," Anduin said to me, "do you wish to appoint a champion?"
"No," I replied simply.
"Hey, man," Jamil said in a thick accent, "give up. Okay?"
I didn't respond. There was no point in answering a walking corpse — and that's exactly what he'd be in a few minutes. So really, why waste my breath?
"Then let us begin," said the master of ceremonies. "The rules are simple. Any magic is allowed, as is any magical equipment. There are no restrictions on spells. The winner is the last one standing — or the last one alive."
How satisfying it was that everything was moving so quickly. No need to wait days for the dueling ground to be prepared, for opponents and seconds to be summoned, and all the other nonsense. There's a problem? Let's settle it here and now.
"Duelists, take your positions," said Anduin.
Following the dueling code, we approached one another until we were nearly face to face. Then we raised our wands to the sixth position — pointed straight up, the tip toward the sky, the handle toward the ground. Then we turned back to back and began counting paces until we reached the required distance.
"To your marks, gentlemen," Anduin repeated, before leaping onto a broom to avoid being hit by a stray spell.
The mercenary and I spun around almost simultaneously. With one hand, he unleashed a flurry of weak spells; with the other, he was already drawing his revolver. But that wasn't going to work on me — I had been trained for this kind of fight back in Malta. I threw up a small shield charm, just for safety's sake, and then came the simple, brute-force demonstration of power.
Without even using my wand, I cast one of Flamel's spells.
The mercenary didn't stand a chance. None of his artifacts saved him; none even helped. Within a single second, pieces of what had once been a whole body were already falling to the ground. I absorbed his soul and turned to the master of ceremonies.
He slowly descended, made a few practiced wand movements, and checked the remains for signs of life.
"Timothy Jody is the victor."
The aristocrats met the announcement with silence. They had just witnessed a display of force that would crush anyone who dared stand against it.
"Does anyone else have a grievance they wish to raise before the coronation begins?" the master of ceremonies asked the gathered wizards.
No one was quick to respond.
"Then I believe it is time we break for lunch and reconvene for the coronation. Everyone—"
I raised my hand, cutting Anduin off mid-sentence.
"I'm not finished," I said calmly.
"But, my lord," he said, surprised, "tradition and ceremony clearly state that only one challenge may be issued against the emperor-elect."
"And who said I was going to challenge anyone?" I smirked right in his face. "Oh no."
With a wave of my hand, a levitation spell lifted Lord Koshetsky into the air. His attempts to resist were useless — and pitiful. I hurled him down onto the dueling ground and began walking toward him. Anduin, who looked like he might intervene, made the right choice at the last moment and stepped aside.
"You know," I said loudly, so everyone could hear me, "I've long believed that every wizard should stand behind their own ideas and desires. Hiding behind someone else... that's a disgrace. Especially when you're the one who initiated the challenge. That kind of behavior has no place in our society. Anyone who tries that with me will be punished. The first time — a warning. The second time — death."
The spell twisted the aristocrat's neck with a snap — the same one who had dared to challenge me and then sent a mercenary in his place. A cunning fox, perhaps — but every screw has its thread.
"So think carefully from now on about what you do and how you do it," I said to the nobles still watching me, waiting to see what I would do next. "If any of you wishes to challenge me to a duel, I'm open to it. But remember — if you send someone else in your place, you die either way. Otherwise, you might just live."
The aristocrats were too shocked by what had just happened before their eyes. It seemed they hadn't expected things to go this way. Understandable — they loved indulging in entertainment, food, drink, and deciding the fates of others, but none of them were prepared for the moment when those actions might come with a cost.
No one else dared to challenge me. Under the influence of the new, younger heir, Lord Koshetsky's vote was moved into the "YES" column. Now I had a perfect score — a unanimous election. Every noble who had come was ready to accept me as their Emperor.
"Very well," the master of ceremonies exhaled, clearly aware that I had just broken a great number of traditions and unspoken laws — and showed no sign of concern about it.
Let them adapt to me, not the other way around.
"Well then," Anduin began, seeing that no one was going to challenge me or interfere with moving on to the next stage, "I now declare the election ceremony officially closed."
The aristocrats began to disperse. The cleanup crew, who had also been present, descended casually and collected the corpses. They even joked among themselves — which didn't surprise me in the least.
"What's next?" I asked the steward and the master of ceremonies.
"Next, Your Majesty, is the fitting of the Imperial mantle," the steward said.
"Then let's go."
Once we left the field, I asked a question that had been bothering me:
"Tell me, my friends, why did no one warn me how things would unfold? Why am I only learning the protocol as it's happening?"
Both wizards looked a bit embarrassed. It appeared that what had happened wasn't part of some malicious plan to throw me off — just one accident piled on top of another, seasoned with a fair share of mistakes.
"You see," the steward began, "when the previous Emperor left this world, many of the wizards responsible for organizing imperial ceremonies passed with him. After that, the remaining nobles — none of whom had been involved in the organizing process — began competing over who was more worthy... and, well, you got what you got."
"I see," I nodded. "It's a pity they passed."
"Yes," the steward said, drawing out the word and giving me a very suspicious look. The master of ceremonies wasn't far behind him.
"You suspect me of something?" I asked, deliberately provoking a bit of conflict.
"What? Of course not," the steward immediately replied. "How could you think that? Naturally, you are blameless, Your Majesty."
"Exactly," I nodded.
The fitting room was spacious. Five witches stood in a neat row. Their well-defined features, white hair, and blue eyes drew attention. Each wore a simple white robe with no insignia. They stood at attention, waiting. All were young and attractive. The leader of the group was slightly older, with just a hint of silver in her hair.
"Allow me to introduce the Imperial seamstresses," said the steward. "After the coronation, once your coat of arms is official, their garments will change as well. Their job is to craft the finest clothes for the Imperial family from the finest materials. Each holds the rank of journeyman in enchantments, and they possess many other important skills."
"Oh, pleased to meet you," I said to them. "You all look lovely."
"Thank you, Your Imperial Majesty," said the eldest among them.
"What's your name?" I asked her.
"Adolphia, Your Imperial Majesty," she replied.
"Nice to meet you," I nodded. "Adolphia, after the coronation, I'd like you to write down the names of all the seamstresses. Additionally, I want a brief summary of each — no more than twenty words. And on a separate piece of paper, list what you can and cannot do."
"It will be done, Your Imperial Majesty," she answered with a nod.
"Then let's begin with what you're here to do."
The fitting and alteration of the Imperial regalia took up nearly all the time the aristocrats spent resting. The seamstresses adjusted the cut — sometimes the style and embellishments of the mantle — striving for perfection, balancing etiquette with elegance. All I had to do was stand and occasionally answer a question.
To be honest, those were probably the longest four hours of my life.
When everything was finally done, a massive mirror was brought in so I could see myself.
I wore a red leather cloak that reached nearly to my heels. The trim was white, embroidered with green Celtic runes. Beneath the cloak was a lightweight leather cuirass, also blood-red, but interwoven with blue and gold threads, giving it a strange, mystical aura. The armor was layered with powerful protective enchantments. Honestly, I wouldn't mind going into battle in it — the magical defenses were that impressive.
The cuirass bore a few insignia — for now, only two, representing my two masteries. After the coronation, more would be added, becoming part of my formal "parade" uniform. According to etiquette, I was to wear this armor with all insignia at any event attended by more than twenty wizards.
Beneath the armor, I wore a snow-white shirt with long sleeves. The sleeves were decorated with simple black embroidery — stylized trees, animals, and flowers.
The pants consisted of two layers. The outer layer was armored and featured several holsters: one for a wand, another for potions, and a sheath for a dagger. Beneath the armored trousers were ordinary pants adorned with golden embroidery. My boots were black as night, crafted from dragon hide. The soles were made from a rare material found only on a single Caribbean island.
The mirror reflected a handsome figure. My calm face and short black hair suited the outfit perfectly. I thought that, with the right lighting, the impression would be striking.
"Your Imperial Majesty," Adolphia addressed me, "you look magnificent. Allow me to add one final touch."
She waved her wand, and all the fastenings — diamond pins, acromantula-silk bindings, and gold cufflinks — began to shimmer with soft glints, enhancing the overall effect.
"Excellent work," I said with a nod, still admiring my reflection.
I took a few test walks around the hall to get used to the outfit. Just in case, I needed to be ready for magical combat — any moment of discomfort during an active duel could prove fatal.
"Are you ready?" the steward asked. "All the nobles are assembled, awaiting the coronation."
"Yes, I'm ready," I nodded.
They led me down a corridor that provided a direct path to the small platform where the crown and scepter of power were placed. The walls were lined with Swiss Guards, who cast curious glances at me — but none dared speak.
"Friends," the steward began, "the time has come to turn a page in the history of our magical world. This morning, you all agreed to choose a new Emperor — and you chose. So now, at this very moment, we shall hold the coronation of the new Emperor of the Holy Roman Empire, King of Germany, Italy, and all of Europe, Duke of Bavaria and Duke of Saxony. Let the new ruler of Europe step forward and take the crown and scepter."
As I know from History of Magic, at every coronation, the candidate must step forward alone, place the crown on their own head, take the scepter, and sit upon the throne — all without assistance. This tradition exists so that if anyone has objections, they can attempt to strike the candidate down at the last moment, before the protection and security protocols activate. The walk must be slow and dignified. Running is forbidden.
Taking a deep breath, I stepped into the sunlight. All eyes were on me. The aristocrats watched in anticipation, each of them with their own thoughts, ideas, and schemes swirling in their minds.
Another step forward. But still, no one made a move. The silence was oppressive. It felt as though one could hear the clouds drifting overhead. The only interruptions were the occasional flashes from journalists' cameras, trying to capture every moment.
Another step. And then another. I was expecting an attack — from any direction — but nothing came. When I reached the platform, I paused. A few quick, discreet spells scanned the area in front of me for traps. When the response came back clear, I stepped onto the platform. Next came spells cast on the crown and scepter to check for curses, potions, or delayed-action enchantments. Nothing again. One more step, another dozen detection spells. Just in case, I mentally prepared to take Panacea from the Philosopher's Stone if anything went wrong.
Standing before the crown, I stopped. I took a deep breath and exhaled, calming my quickening heartbeat. Then, I raised my hands and placed them on the crown. With slow, ceremonial grace, I lifted it and set it on my head. It was heavier than expected — I had to tilt my head back slightly for comfort.
Slowly and smoothly, I turned and, with the same deliberate poise, took up the scepter of power. It glowed with a soft golden light, then faded. At that moment, the stands that had held the crown and scepter crumbled into gray dust — and vanished.
I stood still for a few moments, allowing the cameras to capture the scene. Then I turned and made my way to the throne, where I slowly sat down.
The throne wasn't particularly comfortable at first, but it quickly adjusted — reshaping its configuration to fit my body perfectly. In just a second, it transformed from an awkward chair into a comfortable one. Not bad. Not bad at all.
"Long live the new Emperor, Timothy Jody!" the master of ceremonies proclaimed loudly. "We have officially turned a new page in history."
The crowd of aristocrats erupted in celebration. Of course, not all of them were thrilled — but none dared go against those who were genuinely rejoicing. So, in the end, everyone celebrated. At that moment, over a dozen new insignia appeared on my armor, each one representing various pieces of information. I'd figure them out later.
The Swiss Guard marched out from the same corridor and formed a line behind me. Two guards stepped forward, and the throne — along with its platform — began to rise. Now, I sat above ground level, elevated above all those who would come onto the field.
"And now, it is time to swear oaths of fealty."
The first to approach were the steward and the master of ceremonies. Both knelt before me and spoke, one after the other:
"I, Anduin Lothar Agronomsky, swear loyalty to my Emperor. I swear to uphold and carry out his commands and his laws. I represent the House of Agronomsky and swear, on behalf of my house, loyalty to His Imperial Majesty, Timothy Jody."
"I, Florian the Third of Westphalia, swear loyalty to my Emperor. I swear to uphold and carry out his commands and laws. I am the head of the House of Westphalia and swear, on behalf of my house, loyalty to His Imperial Majesty."
Next onto the field came Oblan, along with the Ministers of Magic. I never would've thought Amel would be here. Yet there he was, the third person to approach me.
"I, Amel Delacour, swear loyalty to my Emperor. I swear to follow his laws and his orders. As the Minister of Magic of France, I swear on behalf of the entire French magical society to serve faithfully. As Minister, my authority is the authority of the Emperor. All imperial decrees are my decrees. The Emperor's every wish is law. As France's Minister of Magic, I declare the vassalage of the French people to Emperor Timothy Jody."
"I accept France's vassalage and pledge to protect her people and her interests."
How fortunate that Amel's thoughts were like an open book to me — I had learned of his plan in advance, and I said exactly the words he wanted to hear.
Once again, crystal silence fell over the field. With those words, Amel had just boosted the political weight of my imperial authority. The other Ministers, who had been preparing to speak after him, now hesitated. My curious gaze met theirs with a subtle smirk. Their expressions resembled wild animals caught in the headlights of an oncoming train.
The smile on my face offered them two choices: repeat Amel's words — or soon find themselves six feet under. Honestly, I hadn't planned this at all… but why not go with the flow of a rising mountain stream?
Next came the Minister of Magic of Germany. His thoughts were darting around wildly. I maintained my predatory smile, applying just a touch of magical pressure — a dash of psychological intimidation.
"I, Leviathan Spitzberger, swear loyalty to my Emperor. I swear to uphold his laws and carry out his orders. As the Minister of Magic of Germany, I swear on behalf of the entire German magical society to serve faithfully. As Minister, my authority is the Emperor's authority. All imperial decrees are my decrees. The Emperor's every wish is law. As Minister of Magic of Germany, I declare the vassalage of the German people to Emperor Timothy Jody."
"I accept Germany's vassalage and pledge to protect its people and interests."
The words were spoken. Now it was time to see what came next. The other Ministers who were present began stepping forward to offer their oaths of loyalty and vassalage. After Germany came Italy, Spain, Portugal, the Netherlands, all of Northern Europe, all of Southern Europe, and part of the East.
Then came the guilds, who also began swearing oaths and pledging vassalage. It seemed the Ministers' actions had strongly influenced them. I simply sat there, said the required words, and watched the circus unfold among the aristocrats and politicians. And it was a circus — one that had clearly spun out of control, escalating to such a level that it was hard not to be amazed.
In such a situation, the best thing to do is just sit back and enjoy it. Cleaning up the aftermath of Amel's actions would take a long time. I still didn't know if it was a gift or a setup. Hard to say.
Next came the nobles, who also began swearing loyalty and offering vassalage. It was as if everyone had gone mad. My only role was to accept their pledges — unlike with the Ministries, I didn't owe them anything in return.
I accepted oaths until the sun went down — and even a little after. Artificial lighting allowed the ceremony to continue for several more hours.
"My beloved subjects," I said when the last aristocrat had sworn loyalty, "I, as your new Emperor, am ready to lead you into a bright future. Be assured, each of you will see that future unfold with amazement. We will all take part in building it — for our children and our grandchildren."
"Hooray! Hooray! Hooray!" The first shouts were hesitant, but more voices quickly joined until the cheer became a roar. It lasted for a solid five minutes.
Nodding to the master of ceremonies, I returned to my throne. The wizards headed back to their seats in the stands.
"Friends," Anduin addressed the assembly, "as of today, a new chapter begins in the history of the magical world. I believe it is time for the steward to inform you of the Imperial Palace's upcoming plans."
"Thank you," the steward said. "Tomorrow, the Council of Houses will resume, where you will have the chance to discuss important matters. I hope each of you finds issues you wish to bring before our ruler. For now, I wish you all a peaceful night. I hope you can rest after such an eventful day."
Light laughter followed.
I was the first to leave the gathering, followed by Amel, the steward, and the master of ceremonies. We still had a few matters to discuss regarding the future.
Upon returning to my room, I was somewhat relieved not to find Appolin there. Apparently, Amel didn't know about her visit — he believed she had gone to one of the veela communes in France to see her relatives. I had no desire to ruin that illusion by telling him she had been in my bathroom, where we had indulged in some very heated and interesting activities. Let him sleep peacefully.
The hotel staff had already been informed that the Emperor now resided in the imperial suite, and they immediately began showering me with honors. The room was stocked with the finest appetizers and wines — everything aimed at satisfying an emperor's tastes. Since no one yet knew what kind of food I preferred, they simply offered the widest possible selection.
"Amel," I said to the Frenchman, "before we get to the little celebration, I'd like to ask you one question."
"Of course, my Emperor," he said, bowing.
"Why?"
"Why did I swear loyalty and offer vassalage?"
"Yes. Why?"
"Well…" he hesitated, "it was supposed to be a bit of a joke. A prank on the other Ministers."
He said it with noticeable uncertainty.
"A joke?" the master of ceremonies echoed. "Forgive me, my Emperor, but may I hit him over the head?"
"No need," I said gently, shaking my head. "Let's just say… I don't think they appreciated the humor."
"No, they didn't," Amel exhaled. "But in the end, maybe it's for the best. The power of the Emperor has returned to what it once was centuries ago. As they said, new Emperor — new chapter in history. So why not begin it this way?"
"All right," I sighed. "Anduin, what does this mean for me?"
"It's hard to say," he admitted. "The political and legal consequences are… well, a mess — pardon my language. It won't be easy to untangle. Everything now depends on what you want to see happen. No one doubts your ability to crush any rebellion. So really, it's all about your plans and your vision for Europe. Refusing the vassalage now would be nearly impossible — because you won't allow it."
"Of course not," I chuckled. "It would be foolish to reject a gift like that."
"There you go," the master of ceremonies nodded. "I'm sure right now, every Ministry in Europe is in full crisis mode."
"All right," I waved it off. "Florian, what's supposed to happen tomorrow?"
"Tomorrow, the nobles will present issues for public discussion," the steward began. "Most will come in groups, which simplifies things somewhat. As Emperor, you're expected to propose a solution or accept a proposal from another group. Alternatively, you can send the issue back for revision."
"Hm. Is there, by any chance, a book on the responsibilities of the Emperor?"
"If only there were."
Looks like I need to revisit Otto the Sixth's memories. I hadn't really been interested in digging through them before — they seemed like a pile of mare's dung. All I needed from him were his allies, not his traditions or laws. I'll deal with it tonight, so that tomorrow morning I can fully step into the role.
"All right, is there anything else I should know, or something I should be warned about?"
"Not particularly, to be honest," said Florian. "And if there is, it's not especially important."
"Mm-hmm," I murmured. "All right then."
"My Emperor," the master of ceremonies addressed me, "do you have a coat of arms?"
"My coat of arms…" I paused for a moment, then conjured a small illusion. It showed a book, behind which were a crossed sword and magic wand.
"And the colors?"
"A pale green background, sword and wand in pale red, and the book in a yellow-orange hue."
"An Eastern theme?" the master of ceremonies asked with mild surprise.
"Perfect," Florian nodded, clearly indifferent. He made a quick note in his notebook and tucked it away. "Now there really shouldn't be any forgotten questions left. Unless the master of ceremonies has something?"
"Well…" the man hesitated. "It would be important to announce the Empress… but we can wait, if there are no candidates yet."
Ahem, Amel cleared his throat with a smile. "My Emperor, do think carefully about who would be the perfect match to become Empress. Yes…"
"Of course, I'll consider it," I replied with a smirk.
There was a knock at the door. Everyone looked surprised.
"I'll go see who it is," said the steward, getting up. The rest of us fell silent, listening intently.
The door opened.
"Well?" the steward asked.
"A few people would like to meet with the Emperor," came a woman's voice.
"And who are they?" he asked.
"Journalists."
"All right, I'll ask His Majesty whether he wishes to speak with them."
He closed the door and returned to the room, looking at me.
"There are journalists."
"Send them in," I nodded and stood up. A few illusion spells settled over me, crafting a more photogenic appearance.
"Understood."
The journalists entered the suite about five minutes later. In the meantime, the master of ceremonies had managed to give me a quick rundown on how to respond to certain questions, what to talk about — and what was better left unsaid. Amel didn't have any advice to offer; he didn't know anything relevant anyway.
The journalists were seated in a small semicircle in front of me. They came from different newspapers and countries. Alongside them were photographers, though they acted with admirable restraint. A few hotel staff brought in extra tables, glasses, and carafes of what looked like juice.
"Good evening, friends," I greeted the journalists once they were all settled. "How is your evening going?"
Silence was the response — the journalists were still deciding who would act as their lead and speak first.
"Everything's fine," one witch finally said. "My name is Gretta Tungsteng, and I'm from Political Review. Today was your coronation, and then a number of important and rather surprising events followed. Could you comment on the vassal oaths from the Ministers?"
"Going straight for the throat, huh?" I mused. "Well, the answer's simple. The Ministers gave me a gift — and who am I to refuse such a gift?"
"Do you think society might be against it?" she asked.
"Then why did they choose such a representative?" I countered. "Their oaths were anything but ambiguous. As representatives of their countries, the Ministers clearly believed that becoming my vassals — along with their people — was the right decision."
"There will be protests — both from government institutions and ordinary wizards," she replied. "What will your response be?"
"There's a fine line between protest and rebellion," I told her. "And I decide where that line is."
"Ricardo Guiza, The Italian Journal," another journalist said. "Don't you think all of this feels a bit… stretched?"
"What exactly?" I asked him.
"Well... that the Ministers' words automatically represent the entire nation," he clarified.
"Ministers were elected by wizards, weren't they?"
No one answered.
"Well? Were they not? Because if they weren't elected, then why should I care whether the wizards want to submit to me or not? If the Ministers weren't chosen by the people, then their opinion doesn't matter either."
"But the previous Emperor—"
"He's dead. Along with his dynasty," I interrupted. "The crown and scepter were given to me. As the saying goes: a new broom sweeps clean. Next question."
"Vivek Boran, Warsaw," the next wizard introduced himself. "Do you have any plans for reforming magical education?"
"Excellent question," I nodded. "Yes, I do have plans. I believe every wizard should have access to quality wands and quality education. I believe all libraries should be open to every wizard up to the Bachelor level. In addition, I believe wizards should receive basic education in the non-magical world — particularly in physics, chemistry, and other useful subjects."
"What about Dark Magic?" he followed up before a German witch could ask her question.
"Dark magic is a complicated topic," I replied thoughtfully. "I think that once a wizard turns twenty, if they have the interest, the will, and the psychological stability, they should have access to introductory knowledge in demonology, necromancy, blood magic, and similar disciplines. Advanced, deeper levels of study should only be available after achieving the rank of Master. But all of this needs further consideration. There may be better options."
A brief silence followed as the journalists tried to digest everything I had just said.
"Let me return to the earlier topic," Gretta said. "What will you do if a hypothetical rebellion begins?"
"That depends on the demands," I said after a moment of thought. "And the boundaries. The moment those are crossed... that's it. Tell me — why do you think the goblins have been so quiet these past two months? Or where the previous dynasty went — along with most of their allies?"
"I heard there was a tragedy among the goblins," another wizard added. "Forgive me — I'm Mateusz Todorosh from Black Horse & White Dragon magazine. I don't know the details, but it's something that's been troubling many in the magical community."
"There you go," I said with a smirk.
"Do you know what happened to the goblins?" Mateusz asked.
"I'll leave that question unanswered," I chuckled. "But I will answer the question behind your question. Any protester must ask themselves — how far are they willing to go to reach their goal? Are they willing to risk everything? Their job, their health, their life... and the lives of their family?"
No one asked any more questions in that vein. I had made it quite clear I wasn't going to entertain them. The remaining questions focused on the coronation itself, my plans for the future, and a few about the Empress. Overall, it went fairly well.
Of course, such meetings can't last all night. After a few hours, the journalists began wrapping things up. I took a photo with each of them and sent them on their way. The master of ceremonies, the steward, and Amel had remained quiet throughout — though I could tell they were deeply curious about a few of the topics raised.
"Your Imperial Majesty," the master of ceremonies addressed me, "may I ask you one question?"
"Go ahead," I nodded, pouring myself a glass of apple juice and adding a few ice cubes.
"What happened with the goblins?"
"You really want to know?" I asked, turning away for a moment.
"Yes," he nodded. The steward nodded too — clearly just as interested in the answer.
"I descended into the goblin tunnels and started a massacre," I said quietly, conjuring an illusion to show what I meant. "I destroyed their city. All of it. Children, women, the elderly, warriors, non-combatants — all of them. On top of that, I wiped out every clan leader on the European continent, along with their closest allies and supporters. I drowned them in blood. I did the same to Otto the Sixth and his allies, though I assume you already knew that… right?"
"No," the master of ceremonies shook his head. "All we knew was that the Charmakens and the Mendosas began pushing hard for you after the disappearance of the former emperor's people."
"I'll tell you what happened," I said calmly. "This wand," I held it up, "this wand destroyed Otto's entire entourage."
I gave it a small flick, then added:
"This very wand poured molten gold down his throat. It tortured him to death. Just like the rest of his allies. That's how it happened."