He walked, the unfamiliar weight of Alder's satchel a dull thud against his side. The University loomed, a gothic behemoth against the pale morning sky. Students streamed through its arched entrance, a river of muted colors and hurried steps.
Blend in. Be Alder. The silent mantra echoed in his mind. He followed the flow, passing beneath the stone archway, the air immediately cooler, heavier with the scent of aged parchment and damp stone.
The courtyard was a labyrinth of paths leading to imposing buildings. He scanned the faces, a sea of the young and the preoccupied. No one looked particularly helpful.
Professor Armitage's lecture. The name was a fragile anchor in the storm of his ignorance. Where would it be?
He saw a notice board, its surface cluttered with announcements and schedules. A surge of anxiety tightened his chest. This was it. The first real test.
He edged closer, his eyes scanning the small print. The names of lecturers, the cryptic titles of courses, the room numbers – a foreign language to his transmigrated mind.
A young woman with spectacles perched on her nose bumped into him, muttering a quick apology before hurrying on.
"Excuse me," Noir began, his voice a touch too formal. He caught himself. Alder wouldn't sound so stiff. He tried again, a more casual tone. "Do you know where Professor Armitage usually lectures?"
The woman paused, her brow furrowed in thought. "Armitage… History, right? Usually the Main Hall, second floor. Big wooden doors." She pointed vaguely towards a grander building in the distance. "Can't miss it."
"Thanks," Noir replied, a flicker of relief. A direction. That was all he needed.
He navigated the pathways, the gothic architecture pressing in around him. The Main Hall. Second floor. Big wooden doors. Simple enough.
He found the building, its entrance flanked by massive stone statues of stern-looking scholars. He climbed the wide, echoing staircase, the sound of his own footsteps strangely loud in the relative quiet.
Second floor. He scanned the corridor, lined with heavy oak doors. Most were closed, a low murmur of voices seeping from within some. Then he saw them: large, imposing wooden doors at the end of the hall, a small, neatly lettered sign beside them: "History - Professor Armitage."
He hesitated, his hand hovering over the cold metal handle of the large wooden doors marked "History - Professor Armitage." This was it. Time to play the part.
He took a breath, a deeper one than necessary, and pushed the doors open.
The lecture hall was a grand, tiered space, the air thick with the murmur of hushed conversations and the rustle of turning pages. Sunlight streamed through tall, arched windows, illuminating dust motes dancing in the air and casting long shadows across the rows of wooden benches. Students, their numbers already significant, were settling in, some poring over thick tomes, others whispering to their neighbors.
At the front of the hall, a raised platform held a large, ornate lectern. Behind it, chalk dust faintly marked a vast blackboard. No professor was present yet, allowing for a low hum of anticipation to fill the room.
Noir scanned the faces, a knot of anxiety tightening in his stomach. He recognized no one. Where would Alder usually sit? He tried to project an air of casual familiarity, hoping to spot a familiar face or an empty seat that felt… right.
His gaze swept across the students, lingering for a moment on a group near the front, intensely debating something with furrowed brows. Then, towards the middle, he saw a single empty bench in a row that was mostly filled. It felt inconspicuous, a place where he could observe without drawing too much attention.
He moved with a deliberate, if slightly hesitant, stride towards the empty spot, hoping it was unremarkable enough to be Alder's usual haunt. As he sat down, the wooden bench creaked softly beneath him. He pulled out the books from Alder's satchel, their titles – Chronicles of the Three Kings, The Age of Shadows, Iron and Ideology – doing little to soothe his rising panic.
Just as he settled, a hush began to fall over the hall. The murmur of voices died down, and all eyes turned towards the entrance at the side of the platform.
Professor Armitage had arrived.
He was a tall, gaunt man with a shock of white hair and piercing blue eyes that seemed to see right through the assembled students. He carried a stack of scrolls under one arm and possessed an air of quiet authority that immediately commanded attention.
"Good morning," Professor Armitage announced, his voice surprisingly resonant despite his frail appearance. "Today, we delve into a pivotal era in our history: the Great War. A conflict that shaped the very landscape of our continent and the destinies of the Croele, Aural, and Habsburg Kingdoms."
He placed the scrolls on the lectern and turned to the blackboard, picking up a piece of chalk. "Four centuries ago," he began, his voice gaining momentum, "this continent was plunged into chaos. The ambitions of three powerful rulers clashed in a war that would be remembered for its brutality and its lasting impact: Louis I, the Iron Emperor of Croele..." He wrote the name on the board in firm, precise letters. "...the Shadow Emperor of the Aural Kingdom..." Another name appeared beside the first. "...and the Blood Emperor of the Habsburg Kingdom." The final name joined the others, a triumvirate of power locked in a dance of death.
Noir felt a jolt. These were not just names in a history book. They were figures from a past that now constituted his present. He gripped Alder's textbook, his mind racing. Louis I. The Iron Emperor. The title itself resonated with a certain strength, a will forged in the crucible of conflict. He wondered what kind of man this emperor had been, to stand against the Shadow and the Blood. More importantly, what did Alder Wilson, the student of history, already know about this war? Noir's survival here hinged on his ability to access those buried memories, to become, convincingly, the person whose life he had so abruptly inherited. The lecture had begun, and for Noir, the real test was not in the history being taught, but in his ability to navigate it as someone else.
Professor Armitage tapped the blackboard with his chalk, drawing lines connecting the three names. "This war," he continued, his gaze sweeping over the attentive students, "raged for a grueling two years, a relentless clash of armies, ideologies, and the formidable powers wielded by these three extraordinary individuals." He paused, allowing the weight of that statement to settle. "While the common soldiers fought and died in countless skirmishes across the continent, the true heart of the conflict lay in the inevitable confrontation of its leaders."
He lowered his voice slightly, lending an air of dramatic significance to his words. "The final battle... ah, that is a subject shrouded in as much mystery as it is historical fact. It is said that the three emperors themselves met, face to face, on a desolate plain that would forever after be known as the Field of Silence. There were no ordinary witnesses. Only the emperors themselves and a select few members of the royal retinues from each kingdom – individuals deeply loyal to their monarch, guardians of their most closely held strategies and perhaps… unconventional methods."
A hush fell over the lecture hall, every student leaning forward, captivated. Noir, too, found himself drawn into the narrative, the weight of history pressing down on him. Unconventional methods? That phrasing hinted at more than just military tactics.
Professor Armitage continued, "When the dust finally settled, it was the Shadow Emperor of the Aural Kingdom who stood ascendant. Victory, by all accounts, belonged to him." He tapped the name on the board. "Yet," the professor's brow furrowed slightly, a hint of scholarly intrigue in his voice, "something profoundly unusual followed. The Shadow Emperor, despite his apparent triumph, refused to claim the spoils of war. No demands for governance, no acquisition of wealth or authority over the defeated Croele and Habsburg kingdoms. It was unprecedented."
A ripple of murmurs went through the students. Professor Armitage held up a hand for silence. "The historical records of Aural from that period speak of their ruler's return as… altered. His own people, those who had followed him into war, perceived him as a 'completely different being.' Shortly thereafter, he cast aside his former title and declared himself the Black Emperor, ushering in a new, and arguably darker, legend in the annals of our past."
He turned back to the blackboard, underlining the new title. "The Black Emperor. His reign, though relatively short-lived, left an indelible mark on the Aural Kingdom. He enacted peculiar laws, some of which, incredibly, remain in effect even to this day, shaping their society in ways we are still trying to fully understand." Professor Armitage adjusted his spectacles, his gaze thoughtful. "Then, a few years after the war's end, in a grand spectacle witnessed by the populace of the Aural capital, atop the highest spire of his castle – the very place from which he often addressed them – the Black Emperor performed a bizarre ritual. For reasons that continue to elude historians, he then committed suicide, piercing his own heart."
The professor paused, allowing the dramatic weight of this revelation to sink in. "It was not a quiet, private act. It was a public performance, almost theatrical in its execution. As if," Professor Armitage mused, "he sought to engrave his image, his final act, into the very minds of his people."
Noir's mind was reeling. This was far more than just a history lesson. It was a tapestry woven with strange transformations, enduringly odd laws, and a public suicide that felt more like a deliberate act of self-mythologizing. He glanced around the lecture hall. The other students were rapt, their expressions a mixture of morbid fascination and academic curiosity.
What kind of world is this? Noir wondered, the "realm of absurdness" feeling less like a metaphor and more like a literal description.
Professor Armitage leaned forward, his voice dropping to a near whisper, drawing the students in. "Consider this: the laws enacted by the Black Emperor were not merely political or economic. They were… unconventional. Laws governing the perception of reality, the interpretation of dreams, even the acceptable forms of artistic expression. They instilled a subtle yet pervasive sense of… otherness within the Aural Kingdom, a cultural drift that persists even now. Some speculate these laws were not meant for governance in the traditional sense, but as components of a larger, perhaps even… metaphysical design."
He tapped the blackboard again, this time underlining "Black Emperor." "And his suicide… it wasn't an act of despair. Witnesses described a strange serenity on his face as he raised the ceremonial dagger. Some even claimed to have seen a fleeting, otherworldly light emanate from the wound as his lifeblood stained the stone. It was a deliberate act, a final, potent symbol. A self-inflicted apotheosis, if you will, etched into the collective memory of his empire."
A student in the front row raised their hand hesitantly. "Professor, were there any… accounts of what he said or did before the ritual?"
Professor Armitage nodded slowly. "Indeed. In the days leading up to it, the Black Emperor issued a series of cryptic pronouncements. Fragments survive in fragmented texts. Things like, 'To truly rule, one must become a legend,' and 'The boundary between self and symbol must be erased.' Some interpret these as the musings of a madman, the final descent of a war-weary soul. Others… others believe he was enacting a final, grand design, the purpose of which remains shrouded in mystery."
Noir listened, his mind reeling. This wasn't just history; it was a puzzle box of strange occurrences and unsettling implications. A ruler who changed upon victory, enacted bizarre laws, and then staged his own death as a public spectacle. The echoes of the "Castle of Fabrications" and the Host's cryptic words resonated with a chilling intensity.
What was he trying to achieve? What kind of power lies in such a deliberate act of self-destruction? The questions clawed at Noir's understanding of this world, making it seem both more fantastical and more menacing than he had initially grasped.