The moment the door burst open with a thunderous bang, every versation across the cut off to silence as heads whipped toward the sudden otion. Some few students even reached for ons.
In strode the woman wearing bck robes trimmed in silver that swirled about her as she strode into the . Her posture was straight, each step measured with a precision that radiated trol.
That moment she stopped to face the css from the podium before the tral chalkboard, Krion knew Foundations of History was going to be amongst the hardest csses he’d be taking at the Imperial Academy. Her hair, a striking bck streaked with silver, was drawn into a severe braid that framed her face like the hilt of a finely honed bde. Her dark violet eyes swept the room, sharp arating as if disseg every student that had been assigo her css. They nded briefly on Krion, who instinctively sat a little straighter under her gaze, though her eyes swiftly tinued on to the student. When she finally spoke, her voice was steady but carried a weight that ahe attention of everyone in the .
“Wele,” she began, “I am Professor Era Mordrane, and this is Foundations of History. This course will not be a casual exploration of dates and dusty texts. It is a guided excavation into the roots of our Empire — how it rose from the fractured remnants of a Multiverse at war, weathered tless invasions, and became one of the dominant forces uhe purview of the System.”
Professor Mordraured behind her, and with that flick of her hand, words began appearing on the termost chalkboard. At the top appeared her name, and underh soon appeared a timeliretg from a jagged line beled Establishment of the Empire to the present day. Major events and eras began to appear like tributaries from a river, glowing faintly as they appeared, but before Krion could get a closer look, his attention was again taken by Professor Mordrane as she tio speak.
“This is not just a ology,” Professor Mordrane tinued, her voice rising slightly. “It is a map. Each of you, as future leaders of the Empire, must know have to navigate it. To uand where we are going, you must know where we have been.” Her eyes sed the room. “This is the first step in your education as future stewards of the Empire. Fail to grasp the lessons I will be teag you, and you are not just failing yourselves — you are failing the tless lives that depend on your petence.”
Her eyes sed the room once more, but this time Krion could have sworn he saw the barest hint of approval directed at those who were in the process of taking notes. He rushed to do the same.
“Now,” she said, her tone shifting slightly to one matistru, “let me outline how this course will unfold.”
With another flick of her hand, a structured list appeared on the leftmost chalkboard. It was divided into weeks, each beled with a specific theme or era: The Veil of Fury, The Founding of the Empire, The First Age of Expansion, The Void Wars, and so on. Given how they sounded, Krion was getting the impression that this course was the equivalent of a college introductory history course.
“This course in divided into three primary ses,” Mordrane expined as she began to slowly pace across the front of the . “The first will focus on the Empire’s ins — how it was fed out of the chaos of The Veil of Fury. You will study the decisions that shaped the initial structure of the Empire and the individuals who helped create it.”
She paused, letting the words sink in as the frantic scratg of aking filled the room. “The sed se will cover the Empire’s greatest trials. You will be exposed to lessons on internal strife, external invasions, and near-catastrophic events that tested the very capacity of the Empire to survive.”
Professor Mordraopped pag back at the podium, again fag the css directly. “Finally, we will spend some time on the modern era. I will warn you now. This will be the most difficult part of the course because it requires you to think critically about the current state of the Empire and its future.” Her violet eyes narrowed. “Make no mistake. My standards are high, and I expect each of you to meet them.”
Again, the only respoo Professor Mordrane’s firm decration was the rapid scratg of aking. Krion’s hand moved swiftly as he tried to jot down her words as well as the structure of the course as outlined on the chalkboard.
“Now,” Professor Mordrane said, her tone softening just slightly, “I ence questions. History is not a monologue; it is a dialogue between the past and the present. If you do not ask, you will not learn.”
Almost before she was finished speaking, a hand shot up he ter of the room, an elf student with short blond hair and a fident posture. As soon as the Professor poio him, he spoke his question. “Instructor, could you cr—”
“Instructor?” Her voice practically sliced through the air, cold and precise. “As I informed you at the start of css, I am Professor Mordrane.” She cast her gre across all the students in the css. “Let me make this abundantly clear to all of you. In this css and some few others, there are no oners. As future leaders, the Empire, and I, expect you to know how to observe and address rank appropriately.”
She turo the massive chalkboard directly behind the podium. With a vicious thrust of her fist, the timelihat she had caused to appear abruptly disappeared in a burst of white chalky smoke. A sshing motioo a new line of words to begin appearing in its pce. It quickly became clear that eaew line was gradually revealing a detailed breakdown of the ranks and responsibilities of the faculty and administration of the Imperial Academy.
“Here,” she said, violently gesturing at a category he top beled Full Professors of Rule. “These are the individuals, myself among them, who are in charge of teag you the intricacies of history, politics, trade, and other practical learning.” Professor Mordraheured to her to her shoulder, turning as she did to present it to the css. Promily dispyed was the symbol of crossed silver scrolls. “This is the symbol of the rank I earned. I have not been an instructor in decades. Pay attention to your teachers, and their ranks, and address them accly. Some are a bit more sensitive than myself.”
Given that Professor Mordrane seemed to be ready to spit fire at being addressed incorrectly, Krion promised himself then and there that he would do all he could to address the faculty of the Imperial Academy properly.
“This, students, is how the Empire maintains order. Respect the of and, or you will find yourself at odds not just with me but with the leadership of the Empire itself.” Her gaze focused ba the blonde elf, who sank into his seat, his cheeks burning red and his inal question fotten amidst the embarrassment.
With no question forthing now, Professor Mordraurned her attention to the css as a whole. “Now, a question of my own: why do you believe this course, Foundations of History, is required of all noble first-year students?”
For a moment, silence reigned, likely due to fear of being the student targeted by the Professor’s temper. Finally, a ha up he back, down a few rows from Krion. It was tentative at first, but firming as the student spoke. “To uand the ins of the Empire and learn from its past mistakes?”
“A simplistiswer,” she replied, and though the words weren’t what Krion would have choseohis time had no sting in it. “The history of the Empire is not merely a tale of triumphs as. It is a blueprint for survival — your survival. You will study not just the events but the structures and strategies that have allowed the Empire to endure against so many threats these past millennia.”
Her hand moved again, summoning a map on the rightmost chalkboard from where Krion sat. Vast and sprawling, with what looked to be almost a pox of dots of various colors in pces, it wasn’t until a tral blue dot beled ‘Imperial Academy - West’ appeared that he realized he was looking at a map of the region of the Empire he was currently in. A ripple of i spread throughout the css, some students whispering to neighbors about parts of the map they reized. While iing to himself, Krion did not bother jotting down any notes on the map itself. There simply was too much detail, and too many pces, to be able to get even the roughest of notes on it.
A sharp voice broke through the . “Professor,” a human girl with red hair interrupted, her tone practically dripping with the fidence of someone used to going unchallenged by others. She sat in the front row, her posture almal.
“Yes, Marentia?” Mordrane responded, her toill, but her eyes were focused on the young s before her.
“If the Empire is so great,” Marentia began, “why does it tio rely on brutality? Surely, as a civilization, we should have moved past such barbaric practices as now.”
A heavy silence fell over the room. Some students leaned forward, eager to see how the professor would respond. Others slouched back, anticipating a verbal shing, if not worse. For his part, Krion expected that Marentia may just have asked her first and st question in the course.
Professor Mordrailted her head slightly, and for a moment Krion almost thought he was looking at one of the Sentinels without their mask. She studied Marentia as one might study an intriguing but fwed spe.
“A noble se,” Professor Mordrane said finally, her tone far colder than before. “But also a profoundly stupid one.”
Marentia flinched as if the professor had physically struck her. The rest of the css was stunned, whispers breaking out like scattered embers. Professor Mordrahe noise linger for a moment before she raised her hand for silence. She received it at once.
“Allow me to expin,” Professor Mordrane said, again stepping out from behind the podium to pace the front of the . Her robes swept behind her like a dark tide. “In your sheltered upbringing, Marentia, you may have been taught that strength is unnecessary when diplomacy prevail. That is wrong.” She held up a hand in emphasis. “Diplomacy without strength is an open invitation to annihition. The Empire’s practices — brutal, as you call them — are the shield that keeps ead every one of us alive. The Rhalgyr Incursion. The Shardfall fgration. The Harrowing of Ashenvale III. What kept our e bay after eaegotiation? No. Thousands of Imperial Legionnaires who held the liil reinforts could arrive to beat back the invaders.”
Her voice rose slightly, anding the attention of the css. “Brutality is not the absence of civilization, Marentia.” Professor Mordraared down at Marentia, who stared straight ahead, her face turning pale. “It is its foundation. The ws you take frahe luxuries you enjoy, this Academy itself — all these are built on the uanding that the Empire will not hesitate to do what is necessary to protect its people and its future.”
Marentia sank into her seat, saying nothing further. Her point made, the Professor turned back to the rest of the css, her eyes alight with iy.
“History will teach you this truth repeatedly,” Professor Mordrane cluded. “The Empire endures precisely because it refuses to coddle itself with illusions of pea a Multiverse that thrives on chaos. Now, are there any other questions? If so, ask now, for session we will begin in ear.”
She stepped back to the podium, the weight of her words still lingering in the air. For Krion, it was not just her vi that struck him, but the raw pragmatism i in her argument. That it was calcuted violend ruthless efficy that kept everything moving forward. He shifted unfortably in his chair, grappling with what she had said. It wasn’t that he disagreed entirely — he had seen enough of the underbelly of Volkstrum growing up to uand the y of strength — but it still g something deeper within him. Yet, as he looked around the room, he saw no protest from his fellow ss. Most sat in stunned silence, some nodding in agreement. To his side, Hector leaned slightly forward, his expression tightening. The other s’s eyes narrowed, almost as if he was weighing the professor’s words against his own uanding of power. Krion caught the fai of nods from him, though whether it was in agreement or simply in aowledgment of the argument was unclear.
He wondered if their acceptance came from uanding or fear of defying the system.
Perhaps intimidated by the deftness with which the Professor had eviscerated the argument put forth by Marentia, the only questions asked for the rest of the css were those focused on the course’s structure and objectives. A student in the sed row, too far off to the side for Krion to get a glimpse of him beyond the back of his head, asked about the primary assessment for the course. In perhaps the most normal response he had yet heard from anyone about, well, anything, at the Imperial Academy, Professor Mordraated that passing the course depended on how students did on the prehensive, written final exam.
Audent, perhaps emboldened by the almost polite response of Professor Mordrane, asked about the reended reading list. She replied that the texts were known to all the Librarians at the tral Archives and that they would be able to help. Apparently, supplementary texts could be purchased with Knowledge s.
Over the course of the other questions asked and answers given, Krion began to hat the Professor appeared to be bang a clear sylbus with an expectation of personal initiative. Responsibility for succeeding in the css would be solely up to the student. Most was easy enough to remember, but to his side, Hector was still dutifully jotting every answered question down.
Eventually, she raised a hand to signal that the opportunity to ask questions was over. “That will suffice for now,” she said. ”You will have ample opportunity iure to ask more questions, but this css is almost over and I have two more annous that I o go over with you all. Both will be of supreme importao whether or not you make it past your first year.”
She gestured at the chalkboards, each going bnk once more before the words Unlog Your Css appeared.
“As many of you are aware,” Professor Mordrane tinued, “your academic studies, while crucial, are not the sole measure of your progress here at the Imperial Academy. Beyond your coursework and exams, each of you will be required to unlock a css before you will be allowed tress to your sed year. You might get perfect scores in every css, but without a css, it won’t matter.”
A murmur rippled through the room at this revetion. A good number of students didn’t seem surprised. Though Krion knew Rolfun and Alesin each had a css, and his own character sheet indicated he himself would be able to get one, he still did not know that much about the process of unlog one. His experieh vari books and games oh had usually made css something you picked at the start of your adventure, or something you earhrough pleting tasks for some trainer or another. Retively few took the path of making you stumble along until you figured it out. Thankfully it seemed Professor Mordrane was going to expin the process.
“Unlog a css is not simply about gaining levels or earning achievements, though both will iably be a part of the process. No, it is about matg your path — your purpose within the Empire, as you see it — with ohat best plements you. Whether you aim to be a soldier, a schor, a diplomat, or something else, your innermost desires will gradually lead you in the right dire.” She let out a sigh of frustration. “A colleague of mine, damn his soul, like to finding yourself in order to find your css. I think that grossly oversimplifies the process, but at its core, you might begin thinking about what you all must do in this way.”
Mordrane’s expression softened slightly as she noticed that a good number of the ss in the were clearly nervous about figuring out what to do. “This journey you are about to start is deeply personal. There is no singur method, no universal guide, though this Academy has extensive records on both that will help you should you aim for particur csses that are known. Indeed, some of you will end up making one such guide work for you through diligent study and research. Others may discover it through bat, exploration, even moments of profound introspe, all while requiring aensive list of resources to force it open for them.” She cleared her throat, voice elevating once more, “While I ot tell you what you must do to unlock a css, I and will uidao all who ask. The first piece of advice I have is thus: begin by examining your strengths, your is, and your ambitions.”
Krion’s mind raced as he processed the information. On the one hand, the idea of a sihing he had to do to make it through to year was a relief, but oher, the sheer openness of the task before him was daunting. While he appreciated the advice of Professor Mordrane, when he had been ba Earth it had taken him years to decide that he wao bee a doctor. How was he supposed to determine his css, something that seemed to be a far more fual part of his being in this ence he found himself in, all in the course of a single academic year? What if he took the wrong approad failed pletely? Would that kill any possibility of his being able to get strong enough to save those he cared about ba Earth?
The Professor’s voice more interrupted his thoughts. “I ence each of you to use your time wisely. Attend your csses, yes, but do not his rger purpose. Seek out the advice of other faculty, explore the library, and participate in any activity that pushes your stats to the limits. Gaining levels is also a good idea. Do whatever it takes to gain the insights you need, for failure is not an option that the Empire will tolerate.”
Krio a knot tighten in his stomach, but he forced himself to remain calm. This was just another challenge he o overe. He could, no, he would succeed.
Hello all! I am hoping to have at least one more chapter up over the weekend, but a friend visiting from out of town might put that to the test. In the meantime, I hope you enjoyed Krion's first css!
If you want to support me as an author, please sider sharing the story with others, leaving a review, or by cheg out my Patreon.
Note: While there will eventually be 10+ additional chapters up for those who wish to read ahead, the Royal Road Writathon has just ended and I am in the process of building back up to that.
