Epilogue of the first volume

"The Grand Chamberlain, the Emperor, and Marcus were all three secluded in His Majesty's private chambers. All three were silent, each lost in their own thoughts.

Suddenly, there was a knock on the door.

It was Gast bringing tea and small sweet pastries. They were traditional pastries from the region made with butter and honey. Very greasy, yet delicious nonetheless. The recipe had been greatly refined over the years and trials by great chefs in the service of the emperors. These were lighter and less greasy. They were also smaller for easier consumption.

Despite the situation and the tense atmosphere, Marcus was the first to lean forward and grab one of these small round and shiny pastries.

Mmm! It's so good! I never get tired of it! Huh?

Marcus only noticed after putting one in his mouth that he was being watched with a severe gaze.

"What?"

"Tsk! At least one of us is serene," commented the old minister.

"I have the right, don't I? Hey, Mr. Gast? Tell the chef it's great, as always!"

Gast let out a deep sigh before turning to the Emperor.

"Do you need anything else, Your Majesty?"

"That will be all, Mr. Gast. Thank you. Thank the kitchens."

"It will be done," replied the old man before leaving the room.

The Emperor then turned to his closest advisor with a very serious expression, without touching the steaming tea or the pastries.

"How are things?"

"Your Majesty, rumors spread very quickly. Soon, no one in the capital will be unaware that His Majesty has awakened."

"Sooner than expected..." remarked the Emperor, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Indeed. Marcus's training is far from sufficient to be able to take your place more regularly."

"More regularly?" repeated Marcus with a mouthful.

"The news that the Emperor has been seen using magic is spreading in the city. It's an event that has been eagerly awaited for at least five years. An emperor cannot ascend the throne if he hasn't awakened. It has only happened twice since the advent of the Glorious Carthaginian Hispannic Empire, and each time they lost all rights to succession. The crown then passes to the nearest heir."

"Oh! I remember something like that. What's-his-name the Second didn't awaken, so the crown went to his brother, what's-his-name the Fifth."

The old minister glared at Marcus, who was already reaching for a second pastry.

"Oh, come on! Everything's fine, isn't it? Now the vultures will calm down."

"If only it were that simple... Marcus, now that they think I have awakened, I will have to make a demonstration and be crowned in the Grand Temple. Everyone will attend the ceremony, including foreign dignitaries. In your opinion, who will bear all this?"

Marcus then understood. As the Emperor's Face, he would have to impersonate him in front of all these people, and if he made the slightest mistake, they would all be torn to pieces. And after that, he would have to continue playing the role of the Emperor.

"You understand, it seems."

"Stay calm, my dear minister. It was inevitable, anyway. It's just a little earlier than expected."

"Certainly, Your Majesty, but we have just lost several months of preparation. At most a year."

The Emperor nodded slowly. Rodrigue Barde de Tolède was not wrong. They had planned to feign his awakening at the last moment, then organize a ceremony six months later, a reasonable time given that ambassadors from all over the world would be present to witness and offer gifts.

This delay should have allowed Marcus to learn etiquette at an accelerated rate in order not to expose the deception on one hand and not to ridicule the Empire on the other.

As he himself had declared, the vultures were circling around the Emperor. Each one saw the days, months, and years go by without the Emperor showing the slightest sign of affinity with magic. At almost seventeen years old, there was almost no chance that he would awaken. The crown would then rightfully pass to his cousin, the son of his father's brother.

"If... If we get caught, what will happen to us?"

"At best? The rope. His Majesty can hope for a dignified death by having his head cut off, but nothing is guaranteed. It would be the biggest scandal in the history of the Empire. I believe it will even be the biggest scandal in all history, heh heh."

"I would like to keep my head. That's why, Marcus, I count on you not to make the slightest mistake."

Marcus swallowed and placed the cake back on the tray with a trembling hand.

"I was safer in the streets of Niers! I shouldn't have come to the capital!"

A few hours' drive from the capital stood a splendid city called Coligny, which had retained its charm and organization from days gone by. It was surrounded by a thick wall reinforced by magic and punctuated by tall square towers. Its population was large and very active.

However, it had greatly changed since the Emperor's uncle had settled there and made it the seat of his power. Since his death twelve years ago at the Battle of Pretta, this splendid city had been ruled by his firstborn, Lucinius. He had continued the embellishment works of the city and had built an additional wing to his palace that had nothing to envy to the imperial palace.

He had spent fortunes to have the best architects, gardeners, sculptors, painters, and so on.

The result was visible from afar: Coligny was no longer a heap of mud and wood, but an architectural jewel inspiring respect to all who admired it. The only downside was that the city was constantly under construction, as Lucinius was never satisfied.

While at first the projects followed one another, today they accumulated.

In the palace as around it, scaffolding was omnipresent to allow the army of workers and artists to work. Yet, the construction sites were at a standstill. Only a powerful smell of fresh paint indicated that the site had not been at a standstill for long.

From the grand hall, one could hear the sounds of objects breaking and screams of rage.

"Damn it! Why isn't anything going right! Shit!"

A new vase was shattered against a wall covered with a huge colorful tapestry depicting a great stag hunt.

"Are you done, my brother?"

"Shut up! Damn it! Don't you understand?! That bastard just made me lose the throne!"

Leona let out a big sigh and watched the destruction of another vase. The flowers lay on the shiny parquet among the other debris. Nothing had been spared or almost.

"Are you done now? Oh, there's still a vase over there," sarcastically remarked Leona to her brother Lucinius who couldn't seem to calm down.

"Damn it! Why couldn't he just remain a non-mage and die in some backwater hole in the countryside?! He did it on purpose to harm me! Everyone talks only about his awakening."

"Hmm, indeed," Leona acquiesced softly as if the matter wasn't so serious. "It surprised many, and the story is very catchy. The young emperor awakens during a banal inauguration by saving a group of workers from certain death. His popularity has increased a lot since then."

"I was about to become emperor, Leona. I was so close! There's no way I'll end up like our father!"

The expression on Leona's face subtly changed at the mention of Leorth Mars de Coligny. He had almost become emperor, but his older brother, the previous emperor, had awakened, which had placed him second in the line of succession following the death of Maxime I. He had died in semi-exile, here, in Coligny. This situation had deeply hurt him.

Lucinius didn't want this life, even if Coligny had become much more visually pleasant.

"My brother, our cousin has only just awakened, and he's almost seventeen years old. His power will certainly be weak. He hasn't even passed the examination before the Council of Elders. In other words, nothing is certain yet. And even if he passed that exam, you remain first in line for succession. Until he has children, the crown will be yours."

"You're right. Yes, nothing is lost. At worst, my accession to the throne is postponed. Who knows, there might be an accident?"

A huge smile formed on Lucinius's face as he poured himself a large glass of wine before pouring a second one and handing it to his younger sister.

"To the health of our fragile and pathetic cousin. May his reign be short."