Chapter 14: Power and Power

Etheran didn't have the rough wind of a border city. This imperial heartland magic city was surrounded by mountains on all sides, and the air carried only the faint scent of alchemical steam from the workshops below.

The Imperial Magic Academy's main tower stood at Etheran's highest point.

The headmaster's office occupied the top floor. The room was circular, with windows on all sides—light would pour in at any hour of the day. But now it was still early morning. The sky beyond the windows was a deep ink-blue, the stars slowly fading. Only a single floating mage-light illuminated the office, its cold silver-white glow falling across the bookshelves lining every wall.

And falling across the broad silhouette behind the wide obsidian desk.

Headmaster of the Imperial Magic Academy—Emmedia Lien.

He sat in his high-backed chair, body slightly reclined, one hand resting on the armrest, the other slowly spinning a silver-blue crystal between his fingertips. His dark grey robe was immaculate, his grey-white hair combed neatly back. High cheekbones, deep-set eyes—his violet gaze looked especially deep in the cold mage-light.

Three documents lay open on his desk.

The first was an urgent report from the northern border town of Norvic—multiple undead outbreaks across the city, including the crematorium, the infirmary, and a warehouse in the eastern quarter.

The second was a thick stack: the Academy's student roster, containing the names of every mage still studying at humanity's highest institution of magic.

The third was an envelope, pressed beneath the other two—a glimpse of its crimson wax seal, stamped with an hourglass pattern.

Emmedia set the crystal gently on the desk. The astrolabe's glow had already faded. He withdrew his hands, folding his fingers together over his knees. The curve at the corner of his mouth was almost gentle.

A stranger walking into this office at this hour might have thought the old scholar was simply enjoying a quiet morning. But those who knew him understood: Emmedia was waiting. Like an alchemist watching his solution change color, exactly as predicted.

A soft knock at the door—then it opened immediately.

In this nation, only one person had the right to enter without waiting for a response.

Adarian Victor Lucien Dan.

The seventy-third monarch of the Danchester Empire. He wore a navy-blue court uniform, his gold epaulettes gleaming dully in the mage-light. No attendants. The cold light caught the black scabbard at his waist, tracing a pale ring along the crossguard.

"Headmaster."

Emmedia rose—not fast, not slow, his posture correct without being subservient. He pressed his right hand to his chest and gave a slight bow. The same formal gesture he'd offered to every emperor before this one. Neither perfunctory nor excessive.

"Your Majesty honors me with a visit at this hour. I assume it is not for tea."

Adarian walked to the opposite side of the desk. He didn't sit. He stood before it, glancing down at the spread documents. He didn't reach for them. Didn't frown. No unnecessary movement. But when his golden eyes passed over the words "Norvic" and "undead," his pupils contracted briefly.

"You know about the border city," Adarian said, his tone flat. Not a question. Not a probe. A statement of fact. "The scale is considerable. Adventurers and soldiers have both taken casualties."

Emmedia's eyebrow lifted slightly.

The young emperor's handsome face revealed nothing.

"I have not yet received the full account."

Silence.

Outside, the sky was shifting from ink-blue to grey-blue. The first true dawn light hadn't appeared, but the stars had already retreated below the horizon. The mage-light in the room still glowed, casting two long shadows across the floor.

"Last night, an undead appeared in Norvic," Adarian said. "Fast. Adept at climbing. Capable of converting the dead—and the dying—into more undead."

"That is indeed noteworthy." Emmedia's tone remained academic, carrying a measured, appropriate curiosity. "In principle, while the city is close to Death City, undead do not spontaneously arise within its walls—our nation's cremation laws should have been implemented across all major cities."

"Which is why I have come to consult you, as the expert in this field."

Adarian held Emmedia's violet gaze. "I wish to know what the Headmaster knows about that type of undead."

Emmedia did not answer immediately. He withdrew his hand from the armrest, folding his fingers together over his knees. His thumbs pressed lightly against the back of his other hand. Once. Twice. Three times.

"I am aware that you held this position before my grandfather's accession," Adarian continued. "I am also aware that the Imperial Magic Academy has never reported all of its research projects to the Crown in the past thirty years. Some projects are independently initiated by the Academy. Others are managed personally by the Headmaster. As Emperor, I respect the Academy's autonomy. But when Academy research touches the security of the Empire's border cities, it is no longer an internal Academy matter."

Emmedia looked at him. Two pairs of eyes—one golden, one deep violet—facing each other across the obsidian surface. Not emperor against headmaster. Power against power. Temporal authority against something beyond ordinary understanding. And in this room, no one yet knew which was greater.

"As subjects of the Empire, you should share what you know about these undead with the military—for the security of this nation."

Emmedia's lips moved.

"I understand Your Majesty's concern for the border regions," he said. "Norvic's stability is indeed connected to our research on that accursed ruin. As for last night's undead... this old one already has a direction."

Adarian looked at him in silence for a moment. Then he reached out, pressing two fingers onto the document with the crimson wax seal—not opening it, simply resting his weight on it.

"If you find anything, I expect to see the report promptly."

"Of course. It is a subject's duty..."

Adarian released his fingers, turned, and walked toward the door. He stopped at the threshold, not looking back.

"Headmaster was one of my father's most trusted advisors. I trust the Headmaster and I will maintain that same understanding."

Emmedia rose and gave a slight bow toward the emperor's back.

The door closed. The emperor's footsteps faded down the long corridor. Emmedia straightened, settling back into his high-backed chair. He picked up the silver-blue crystal from the desk, his fingers tracing the astrolabe pattern. The corner of his mouth twitched—then settled back into that gentle, scholarly expression.

Outside, the first true dawn light was breaking through the mountain pass. It touched the spires of Etheran's magic towers. And it touched the walls of Norvic, a thousand miles away.

In the new day's light, the black blood of the Peelchant on the warehouse floor was slowly drying, congealing into a thin black crust on the stone.

And in the highest office in Etheran, Emmedia reached out and tapped the hourglass-sealed envelope on his desk with his fingertip. Once. Twice. Three times.

"Still no sign..." he murmured. "That snowflake... yet to fall..."