“Coronations in the Empire are something. They last for months, and everyone attends it. For a period of time, each day the Capital will see its streets crowded from noon till evening. It's a tiring event, but it's worth the trouble. Of course, these long celebrations have more attractiveness to them when they're rare and happening at best every couple of decades. I've read somewhere that there was a time once, when six emperors succeeded themselves in the short span of four years. The citizens were happy to attend the first two celebrations, though by the third one they were getting bored of it. You can't spend half the year partying and drinking and whoring, after all. It's highly impractical and very money-consuming. Very few were those who took part in the fourth celebration, and so when the fifth emperor sat on the throne, he tried to pass a law that sentenced to death anyone refusing to cheer in the streets and drink to his name. Got his head removed from his body by the plebs, and the following emperor, well, he gave a short afternoon party and that was all.

-citizen taking part in the celebration”

* * *

Leopold

As he heard the cheers of the crowd down there, Leopold could only think of one thing. Today was the best day of his life.

Hm, that's not exactly right, is it ? To be precise, it's been two months that everyday is the best day of my life.

Indeed, these past two months, there had not been a single day during which dear Leopold Verald could not say honestly that today wasn't the best day of his life.

That's a lot of best days in my life. A proper reward for the wisest decision I have ever made, he thought, eyeing the youth that was now the new ruler of the greatest nation in the entire continent – the Forty-eighth Emperor Hadrias, ruler or the everlasting Empire.

Backing his majesty Hadrias had granted Leopold the position of high-chancellor – a title he had been dreaming of for a very long time. Finally, he managed to get there. To the highest step. That meant no more cleaning after arrogant fools who proved far too overzealous in the exercise of their mediocrity. No more feelings of humiliation at the mere thought of having an incompetent yet untouchable rival occupying the most desired position in the government. From now on, he'd be ruling the country alongside with the new emperor.

Speaking of the emperor, he showed promise. In any case, Leopold wouldn't have sided with him had he thought otherwise. Aiming for the high-chancellery was one thing, but it was a dream that could be turned into a nightmare if it meant serving under the wrong person. But the youth was wise beyond his years, held the Imperial values in high esteem, disapproved of the twisted, absurd ways of the previous administration. Just like Leopold. Therefore, he had a feeling that Hadrias would make a good sovereign. Even more so if he kept listening to Leopold's experienced advices.

Leopold leaned against the balcony rail, letting his eyes witness once more the sea of people. The citizens of the capital were acclaiming Hadrias, as they had been doing for more than two months now, a couple of hours each day.

Only one month to go.

Of course, when in Leopold's position, to keep a sane mind in such a situation, one would have to deliberately ignore the calamitous expenses required of an event like this one. Oh, sure, the chariots and the dancers were fine, the martial artists and the jousting knights were entertaining, the never-ending music of the bards and the roaring of the crowd were enthralling.

And the Imperial treasury was being butchered. The coffers were getting lighter with each day passing. As for why the people still found interest in a show that had been going on everyday for two months straight, the high-chancellor could not fathom.

The only thing that allowed Leopold to enjoy his daily best-day-ever feeling despite the dangerous economical situation, was none other than the strong belief that these financial issues could be easily resolved, now that he and Hadrias were ruling the nation. The previous man who sat on that throne was a phenomenal imbecile who'd have indebted the Empire, were it not for the chancellors' hard work. They had unmistakeably been, for many years, what kept the country from collapsing.

Treasury aside, the international relationships had greatly suffered too. The Forty-seventh Emperor's existence was the cause of many clusterfucks, as one may have said, and the neighbouring nations knew that very well. They knew better than dealing with an unpredictable leader, and if they happened to be unaware, he'd do a proper job at reminding them by waging pointless wars and ridiculous campaigns.

We'll finally reestablish diplomacy with the south, maybe even negotiate a peace treaty with the northern cities. Make the Empire prosperous again by reopening lost trade routes.

A sudden burst of cheering and applauses made him jump. Down there, two blade masters from the southern kingdoms were apparently having a sabre duel, and the people were very pleased by the demonstration.

The plebs do enjoy exoticism, after all. Though if you ask me, these dancers are only good for entertainment and theatre... I wouldn't expect them to fare very well against the Imperial knights.

“Magnificent,” said a woman on the balcony.

“Indeed,” Hadrias' voice came, answering the praise.

Leopold looked to the side to see that nefarious countess Beatrice Ravilna chatting with the Emperor. Lord Verald immediately walked toward them with the intent of saving Hadrias from Ravilna's poisonous claws.

“Well, if it isn't high-chancellor Verald,” she called out as soon as she saw him arriving. “Is the show not to your liking ?”

“Surely you jest, chancellor Ravilna.” Hearing her newly acquired rank from a rival's mouth seemed to please the countess beyond reason. It was obvious she had long forgotten her grief, if she ever felt something at the death of her lord father in the first place. “How could one not enjoy such a sight ? And think of the bankers ! They must certainly enjoy the cause of our future debt, no doubt.”

“Lord Verald believes this is a waste of money,” said Hadrias, shrugging elegantly in his white attire. “He sees the bankers and the loaners as the great winners of the story. I say, let our coffers empty themselves, if it pleases the people. The citizens are still angry for what happened in the north, and gold will soon come back our way, won't it ?”

...A wise emperor that could be wiser even, if only he'd listen to me. There's no need for this absurdity to last three months !

Beatrice let a snicker escape before speaking in a tone full of mirth. “Your majesty has a very valid point. Ah, how sad to see great minds such as yours, lord Verald, dulled by the weight of new responsibilities.”

An awkward silence ensued, and so Hadrias tried to escape. “Ah, the military display is about to start. I shall have a look.” For the sixtieth time ? Bah. Beatrice and Leopold nodded and each went their separate ways.

The high-chancellor looked around – on this large balcony filled with the notorious and the high-born, there had to be at least one person willing to speak about something else than the damn celebration. The Third Princess, maybe ? Clearly not. She was busy giggling and whispering to some girls of her court about how the dancers were handsome and so on. He'd rather vomit than make small talk with her.

Minister Farril, perhaps ? They could have a nice, proper talk about the trade routes and the potential economical partners they had in mind. Though he was currently arguing about something with ex-high-chancellor Latrea, who resented Leopold for stealing his job.

Not that I care, but I can't have a conversation with him in the vicinity, nowadays. He'll contradict everything I say out of jealousy and anger.

Lord Latrea's annoying interference in the debates they both happened to take part in was usually enough to make Leopold's knuckles turn white, and pop a vein or two while they were at it. So that was a no. Glancing around, he eventually caught sight of someone who made a poor job of hiding his indifference toward the military display. A newcomer in these elevated grounds that were the nobility's balconies.

Anton Vardt, Lord of the Storm or whatever the soldiers liked to call him, was somewhat fancied by the Farril house and so found himself unlucky enough to be invited here. Of course, the man seemed entirely displeased, but unfortunately for him, Hadrias had learned that he was the one they had to thank for stopping the invasion of hell-bats in the capital.

The brave man apparently hunted down the culprit, a fishy fellow going by the name of Brutos, according to the reports, and killed him after a ferocious fight in a forest not far from the capital. The guards also found the culprit's transportation means, a horse humbly named Brutus, which got the soldiers cautious. After further examination by experts, the animal was deemed unable to cast summoning magic and so the case was closed.

Or so the story goes.

So Hadrias, seeking to promote new heroes to calm the agitated citizens, insisted that Anton, vanquisher of the hell-bats, be seen in his company. Needless to say, no one could afford to refuse a direct invitation from the emperor, and so here he was. He was also the teacher of that ignoble brat, Azcheron, and that was much more important in the eyes of Leopold. The man was a known associate of the dreaded Saint, so he had to be very mindful of his actions these days – that meant Anton couldn't very well refuse Leopold's help and protection, and the bargain that would come with it.

There are all kind of stories that could work. Something along the lines of 'oh, poor me, my disciple betrayed my teachings and the Empire by joining hands with the northerners ! I shall take arms once more, and put and end to what I've started !'

Leopold chuckled while rubbing his hands together. He could have been a playwright ! Though coming up with tales to manipulate the people wasn't all that different, in the end. Pushing aside his thoughts of trickery, for now he decided to have a talk with Anton, even if it was about the celebration. At least they probably both thought ill of all this.

“What do you think of the display, professor Vardt ?”

Anton gave him a frown. “A very debilitating event, lord Verald.”

“How so ?”

“I don't see why it's necessary to have this display occur everyday. These machines belong not here in the streets, but on the walls, and it's especially true for the magical artillery. Please imagine how critical it'd be for the capital to be attacked right now.”

“Now, now, professor, aren't you a bit paranoid ? An attack, here, out of the blue ? I'd hear about it before it happened, trust me.”

“And did you perhaps hear about the hell-bats before they were summoned at our gates, high-chancellor ?”

Leopold didn't answer. Nothing clever came to mind. As if to save him from his rhetorical predicament, a god-sent servant from Leopold's office came to him, running.

“My lord, my lord,” the servant, Godefroy, managed to say between two extenuated breaths. “Most frightful news, my lord !” Leopold signalled him to come closer and to lower his voice. It wouldn't do to speak of grim things among the many honourable guests gathered here.

“What is it ?”

“Red dragons have been sighted south !”

“And ? It's nothing new, red dragons have been hunting in the southern mountains for centuries.”

“But my lord ! Several reports mention dragons flying north ! We have couriers and birds from various towns and fortresses along the way, saying how they all were attacked by red dragons !”

Leopold panicked for a second, but his inner expert statesman spoke. “Uh... Err... I-I know ! Roharl ! Where is Roharl ?!”

A merciless Anton Vardt coughed before showing he had no qualms in kicking a man down, making sure he'd stay down, before kicking him some more. “I believe the Dragon slayer is not in the capital at the moment, my lord. You sent him on a subjugation mission in the south east, some three weeks ago.”

Yet Leopold still lived, clinging to a faint hope. “Then send for him ! Find the quickest pigeon in the Palace and tell him to get back here !” he whispered as loudly as he could.

Godefroy gave the finishing blow. “He'll never make it in time, my lord. We believe the dragons are less than a day away from the capital...”

“And...” Vardt added, “As I said, I see some of our magical artillery gathered down here, when they should be composing our walls' main defences. I wonder if we'll have enough time to put these machines back where they belong...”

Leopold wished he could wake up from this dream. It had to be a dream. Dragons attacking the capital, now ? Impossible. It couldn't be dragons, right ? The reports were mistaken, these had to be large birds of some sorts. In the first place, why would red dragons come so far north, and why would they bother attacking the human settlements along the way ? They were usually content with burning down villages and small towns from the southern kingdoms.

While he was deep in thought, Leopold could hear Anton Vardt questioning Godefroy, but the words seemed far, far away now. Everything was slow and blurred, everything felt distorted. He overheard Anton mentioning the words “suspicious” and “baited”. The high chancellor focused back on the conversation, and the servant quoted the reports. There was apparently very few casualties, as the dragons seemed to be hunting down something or someone, leaving the towns alone as soon as they made sure their target wasn't there. Then Anton muttered something along the lines of “fucking brat”, but Leopold cared no more.

Today was the worst day of his life.