For three days and three nights, Maria and I didn't leave the bed. But even she—despite what felt like an inhuman body—had her limits. And we reached them, while I was only just beginning to feel a bit tired. I'm confident that, if necessary, I could've lasted another three days and nights.
"Forgive me, my lord, for not being able to keep up with your pace," Maria said when she finally regained her senses.
"It's fine," I waved it off. I'd had a few hours of rest myself and was feeling energized again. Nodding toward my little friend, I waited for her next move. And Maria didn't disappoint. After I fed her first thing in the morning, I began mentally preparing for the next two months of meditation.
"My lord, what are your plans?" Maria asked, wiping her mouth.
"For the next two months, I'll be unavailable," I said calmly. "During that time, only matters that could endanger the lives of our close ones should be brought to me. Understand?"
"Of course," she nodded. "And what should I do?"
"You have two options," I offered. "Guard Fleur, Isolde, and Hermione—or go to England and keep an eye on Bolshanov. What do you choose?"
"I'd rather stay with the girls," she replied. "At least that way, I might pick up some of the local magic."
"Alright," I nodded.
Once she left, I turned to the task ahead. A hyper-analysis of all the knowledge from Nicolas Flamel's estate—combined with the goblins' extensive lore—was bound to give me a massive edge. Just how massive, I couldn't yet say, but I suspected it would be enough to elevate me even further.
Sealing myself inside the rock of the island of Corsica, I began.
The knowledge I received wasn't just excellent—it was magnificent, exhilarating, even divine. The analyzed data packets, interwoven with my own memories stored in the Archive, revealed insights found nowhere else.
The goblin knowledge only deepened and enriched everything. It introduced me to something called Artefactology. Yes, wizards can create artifacts, but theirs pale in comparison to goblin craftsmanship. For goblins, artifact creation is the last thread of survival—always dependable, always sacred. And now, I had access to the very best of it.
When I came to, I felt slightly unwell. Understandable—I'd just spent two months in deep meditation. The time had flown by, but the results were worth it.
First and foremost: I now knew exactly how to create a Philosopher's Stone.
My earlier hunch—that the Philosopher's Stone wasn't just an ordinary magical object—was absolutely correct. The one in my possession had been crafted centuries ago, at the cost of countless human lives. In Muggle history, it's called the Plague. In magical circles, it's known as the Anomaly Outbreak. But now, thanks to Flamel's knowledge, I know the truth: that "Outbreak" was an elaborate cover-up orchestrated by Nicolas and his wife to conceal the Stone's creation.
All those deaths? They were sacrifices, part of a massive alchemical ritual. And now, I know that ritual.
It's a shame I didn't learn it sooner—otherwise, I could've used goblins as fuel and created a Stone of my own. But no use crying over missed opportunities.
Along with the knowledge of how to create the Philosopher's Stone, I also gained a vast trove of information on alchemy, potion-making, every spell Flamel ever devised, his rune calculations, and much more. On top of that, I acquired his wife's knowledge as well—though not quite as advanced. But that's relative. She was an Archmagister of Medicine who personally developed over a dozen unique approaches to treating various types of bodily injuries. Any serious student of magical medicine ought to study her methods.
To sum it all up—I didn't just uncover some ancient treasure trove. I obtained knowledge more valuable than almost anything imaginable. And the price I paid? Practically nothing. Two months of time, some fatigue… and that was it. A minimal cost for such immense wealth.
As I left the cave, I had to squint to adjust to the bright sunlight. The temperature on the island no longer felt summer-like. It was closer to autumn now—a light chill in the air, heavy clouds overhead, and the scent of an impending storm.
I teleported to one of the homes that once belonged to the leaders of Corsican wizards. Within moments, I brought it into order. Fireplaces roared to life, filling the space with warmth and a soft crimson glow. Then, I used a wide-range cleansing spell from Flamel's wife's arsenal to purge pests from the surrounding area. A few more enchantments later, and I was settled inside a cozy little cottage.
The aroma of freshly prepared food momentarily distracted me, lulling me into a rare state of peaceful stillness. That calm gave my mind a moment of rest—and finally allowed me to shift focus to something I'd been postponing for too long: the fruit.
A magical fruit I'd received as a reward from Zeus.
And now, with complete confidence, I could say—it was anything but ordinary. No… it was dangerous.
A few investigative spells from Flamel's collection revealed the truth. The fruit was a walking anomaly, imbued with a specific effect that would trigger the moment it was consumed. A strange rune would activate—a rune I had never seen before. Flamel had only encountered it in ancient texts that spoke of the primordial world. Fascinating.
Studying this rune consumed several hours until I noticed an unsettling similarity between it and the ritual used to create the Philosopher's Stone. Could it be… that the fruit was designed to use the soul of whoever eats it—and then trigger something far greater?
"So that's how it is," I exhaled. "Looks like Zeus was aiming to hit multiple targets at once. Get rid of me—and something more. I wonder what that second goal was…"
I cast several containment spells over the fruit and carefully placed it back in its designated pocket in my bag. I'd ask Zeus about it myself—but first, other matters needed my attention.
Like the issue of Andrey and the Malfoys. I hadn't forgotten about them. And I fully intended to settle the score.
I fell asleep quickly, and the rest was peaceful and restorative. By morning, I awoke refreshed and ready for new accomplishments. Stepping outside, I summoned Lightning and launched myself toward France. Upon landing, I teleported straight to Paris and sent a mental message to Maria.
Within seconds, I received the address of the house Isolde had rented using my funds—chosen specifically so the girls could practice magic with minimal interference. I Apparated there and waited a few seconds for the wards to recognize me and grant entry.
The house they'd rented wasn't the largest, but it was more than enough for the girls to live comfortably without needing to leave. It had everything they required: a small gym area, a zone for spellwork and dueling practice, a heated pool, two greenhouses, and the main house itself.
"Timothy!" Fleur exclaimed joyfully, throwing herself into a hug. "You're finally back! We've waited so long."
"Yeah," Hermione added, hurrying in to hug me as well. What can I say—she was coming along quite nicely. A little more time, and the beautiful bud would blossom into a flower just as perfect. One I intended to pluck. "I wanted to ask you a few questions about a topic in Charms."
"Of course, my sweet Hermione," I replied, gently brushing her hair. "I'll answer you—just let me settle in first."
"Heh," she chuckled, blushing lightly.
"Isolde," I turned to her and opened my arms.
A smirk played on her lips as she stepped in and hugged me. I let my hands fall low—right in front of everyone. Fleur just rolled her eyes. Hermione blushed even deeper. Maria gave a small, jealous huff but said nothing.
I truly liked my girls—and appreciated how quickly and easily they had accepted each other. I was sure they'd had their own conversations and reached quiet understandings behind the scenes, but I had no intention of digging into them. That was their domain.
Isolde didn't seem to mind my flirtations in the slightest. Gently and subtly, I brushed against her emotions and uncovered something unexpected: she wanted more—but didn't quite have the will to make the first move.
"Isolde, how about going out somewhere with me? Spend some time together?" I asked.
"Yes," she replied instantly, nearly bursting with joy on the inside. "Of course, I'd love to spend time with you."
"Wonderful," I smiled.
My room was situated near the center of the house, with the girls' rooms arrayed around it. If any of them wanted to visit, they were just a few steps away. Still, I didn't call anyone over—though the temptation was certainly there.
That evening, Amel and Apolline arrived. Both seemed genuinely happy to see me again. The Minister looked well, which suggested that things in the country had stabilized. As always, Apolline looked stunning. Gabrielle had come too but was quickly spirited away by Hermione and Maria, who dragged her off somewhere to have fun.
"Timothy," Amel said as we sat at the table, "it's wonderful that you're back. Can we consider your isolation a success?"
"Very much so," I nodded. "The research I conducted yielded unexpectedly excellent results."
"May we ask what kind of research it was?" Apolline inquired.
"Why not," I replied, giving her a deliberate, silky look. She caught it—and understood. "I was studying topics related to the Philosopher's Stone."
"The Philosopher's Stone?" Amel looked genuinely surprised.
"That's right," I nodded.
"Then I won't pry any further," the Minister said, though he added with a curious glint in his eye, "But I do hope we'll get the chance to at least touch on that mystery?"
"Anything is possible," I replied cryptically, then gave Apolline a wink.
The Veela narrowed her eyes, nodding to some private thought. Honestly, I had no idea what might be going on in that head of hers.
"Alright then," Amel exhaled.
"And what about you? What happened during the last two months?" I asked.
"After your purge of the goblins, every country pounced on their hoarded treasures like a pack of jackals," he said. "If it hadn't been for your intel, we would've been left with almost nothing. But thanks to it, we managed to seize several incredibly valuable artifacts, a few libraries, and other treasures. I suspect it'll take decades to fully assimilate it all."
"What's next?"
"Simple," Amel waved it off. "A few wizards will be assigned to publish those books—under their own names, of course."
"So you're aiming to expand the pool of knowledge?"
"Yes," he nodded. "It's the right thing to do for the wizards of France."
A brief silence followed, broken only by the soft clinking of teacups and the quiet, ambient sounds of the house. Though entirely magical, it still had its own living presence.
"Ah, yes," Amel said suddenly, as if something had just come to mind. "The aristocrats have been so active these past two months that their influence has even spilled over into the Muggle world. But it seems they've reached some form of understanding. I expect you'll receive an invitation to the Council of Houses soon."
"The sooner, the better," I murmured in response.
And sure enough, by morning, an official-looking letter awaited me. I opened it and quickly read through the invitation to the Council of Houses—scheduled for the very next day in Berlin. The urgency was unexpected. Honestly, I hadn't anticipated things to escalate this quickly or with such intensity. Whether that was a good or bad sign, I couldn't say… but I wasn't particularly worried.
"So fast?" the girls asked in surprise over breakfast. Amel and Apolline had left the night before.
"Yes," I nodded. "And for everyone's safety, I'll go alone. Maria, you'll stay here."
"Of course, my lord," she nodded, sensing my unease. Naturally, I was concerned for the girls' safety.
Because I had to prepare for the event in a bit of a rush, I didn't manage to take care of much else. Still, I didn't expect the Council of Houses to last long, so it wasn't a major issue. Afterward, I'd need to refocus on training the girls—it felt like they were beginning to fall a bit behind.
I arrived in Berlin that evening and checked into the most luxurious wizarding hotel in the city. The building towered over its surroundings and offered a direct view of the Brandenburg Gate. I stayed on the top floor, in the royal suite. Once I was officially declared the new Emperor, every royal suite in every hotel across the world would be mine to use freely. But that wasn't what mattered to me—not even close.
Like most major cities, Berlin had its own magical street: Dorfstraße. It was smaller than its counterparts in Paris or London but still large enough to offer a variety of magical supplies. That said, it was overrun with expensive restaurants catering to the trust-fund elite of the magical aristocracy. The so-called golden youth loved to gather there, wasting their lives in endless entertainment and indulgence. I appreciated such things too—but not to the level of hedonism the aristocrats engaged in.
The outskirts of Berlin were lined with estates, vacation homes, and private residences of noble families. Even my purge of the wizards who had supported Otton hadn't done much to reduce the aristocratic saturation in this area. Many of the families based here could attend the Council of Houses, but they lacked voting rights or the authority to summon a council. Essentially, they were permitted to observe—nothing more. That said, everything could change quickly if a Master emerged from one of their bloodlines.
As I eavesdropped on conversations around me, I couldn't help but smirk. Everyone was talking about the upcoming Council, speculating wildly about its purpose. The hottest rumor? That the Houses would choose a new Emperor. Whispers of my name were everywhere.
Young noblewomen, especially those curious about me, had managed to dig up quite a bit of information. Each had a portrait of me tucked away somewhere, and each knew I wasn't dating just one girl, but several. That detail didn't sit well with them—after all, each secretly wished to have me to herself—but deep down, they knew they'd squeal with joy at the chance to become one of my lovers.
The envy toward Maria—who they'd already discovered was to become one of my official consorts—was intense. That role would grant her significant power in the magical world, particularly within the aristocracy.
Meanwhile, the noblemen were busy discussing my combat reputation, which had spread across the continent in recent years. That caught me off guard—though not as much as the time I encountered those bandits in the frozen ruins of Florean Fortescue's. They also envied my success in the bedroom. And who could blame them? Seducing a magical aristocrat who could hex your soul out wasn't the same as slipping a love potion to some clueless Muggle. Pulling off a multi-witch affair like mine required real power. No one below the level of Master could even dream of it without a dangerous amount of arrogance. Masters could manage it—but even they were usually too absorbed in their research to bother.
Sure, relatively powerful aristocrats took lovers—but those lovers weren't aristocrats themselves. And truth be told, many of them didn't have much else going on in their lives. Some spent money expanding their magical knowledge, but few went deep enough to gain true renown.
"Would the young gentleman like to order something?" asked a young, pretty waitress.
Since my clothing didn't reveal my status, and my face remained hidden behind a faint, unreadable smile, there was nothing to suggest I was someone important—nor anything to make me look like a commoner. She treated me with polite neutrality.
"I'll have your house special—the Weissbier," I said.
"Any snacks to go with that?" she asked.
"What would you recommend?"
"We have salted nuts, chicken feet, black peanuts…" she began listing.
"Just the Weissbier, please," I replied.
"Right away," she said with a smile.
Magical Weissbier was the most expensive drink in this restaurant—and in many others across Berlin.
They brought me a tall glass filled to the brim. A light white foam crowned the drink, and small magical bubbles floated a few centimeters above the glass before popping with a soft pop, releasing a hoppy, intoxicating aroma that lingered in the air.
"Enjoy," she said.
"Thank you."
Sipping the Weissbier and relaxing was a pleasant experience—until I noticed a rather interesting figure approaching. A tall, strikingly attractive woman with sharp, intelligent eyes. Most people would've been stunned, wondering who this mysterious witch was—but I knew exactly who she was.
It was Apolline Delacour. She had followed me here after receiving my invitation. The magical traces I'd deliberately left behind practically guided her to this place—to Berlin, to me.
"May I sit?" she asked.
"Of course, please," I gestured to the chair across from me.
A server promptly brought her a glass of wine, made from grapes grown in southern Germany.
"I'd like to discuss a certain offer," she said. "Something you did very recently."
"Is that so…" I murmured. "Then perhaps we should discuss it in my suite—where no one will interrupt us."
"Alright."
"The check, please. For myself and the lady," I said to the waitress.
I paid quickly, leaving a generous tip. Then I returned to my suite with the "stranger" following behind me. A stranger to everyone else—but I knew exactly who was behind the mask.
With a wave of my hand, I closed the door and activated several powerful privacy spells, along with layered concealment charms. Then, I waited for the mask to fall.
"So, Apolline—what was it you wanted to discuss?" I asked.
"The Philosopher's Stone… is it true?" she asked, her voice dry, lips parting slightly as she licked them, parched from tension.
"Yes," I nodded, pulling out the slightly diminished stone.
Her eyes locked onto it instantly, lit with a deep and growing desire. From Flamel's knowledge, I had already pieced together the truth: those sea creatures that attacked me on my journey weren't after me specifically—they were after the stone. Even just a drop of its extract could enhance a magical being's essence. For tritons and others, it meant longer life, deeper diving ability, and access to uncharted territories of the ocean. In deeper waters, magical creatures could evolve in ways previously impossible.
And the same was true for veela—and many others.
"That's it," Apolline whispered, her gaze glued to the stone. Desire danced in her eyes, impossible to conceal. "That's it."
"Correct," I said. "And… if you're interested, I know how to create one."
She believed me instantly. I saw it in her eyes—the craving, the temptation. She wanted it. Even just a crumb. But conflict stirred within her. She wanted the extract for herself… but she didn't want to betray Amel. It was a tug-of-war between loyalty and ambition. But the Philosopher's Stone… that was no ordinary temptation.
"What do I need to do?" she asked, torn.
I smirked. "I'm heading to the bathroom now. You make your decision. I think I'll run a few experiments with the stone while I'm in there. Maybe there'll be a drop of extract left over… maybe even a few."
Leaving her alone with her thoughts, I stepped into the bathroom. I had no real intention of conducting any experiments—I just wanted to relax… and wait.
And sure enough, Apolline made her decision. She hesitantly pushed open the bathroom door and stepped inside. Seeing her reflection in the mirror, I watched with great pleasure as her clothes slipped to the floor. A single thought and they were gone — and the bathroom door closed and sealed behind her. There was no leaving now.
I turned to her, revealing my aroused cock. Then I showed her the vial containing the concentrated extract and did something that would have gotten my head torn off by many wizards and magical beings. I let a drop fall onto my cock.
"Come and take it for yourself," I told Apolline.
The sweet scent of the stone filled the bathroom. Apolline approached, dropped to her knees, opened her mouth, and swallowed me whole. She wasn't very experienced — even Fleur had more skill than her.
But the influence of the single drop of extract became a blessing for the veela, correcting all the issues she had struggled with. Being only half veela, all her weaknesses had been amplified by her human side. But now, the extract neutralized all of it.
Why did I do this? I want to give some of the extract to Fleur, and I was curious to see how it would affect another veela. That it happened to be her mother… well, so be it. I didn't mind that tradeoff. She brought me to orgasm quickly and swallowed everything I gave her. But of course, I wasn't finished.
"We still have the whole night ahead of us."
Apolline, euphoric from just a single drop of extract, was more than willing to keep going. And she didn't disappoint me.
Instead of sleep, the entire night became an intense, indulgent experience. Each orgasm she took from me earned her another small drop of extract — and it didn't matter where it landed.
All in all, it was a wild, enjoyable night. Morning came with a fierce blowjob from Apolline, serving as a wake-up before a very important event. After swallowing every last drop, she opened her mouth wide. As a reward, I dripped one more small drop of elixir right onto her tongue. The woman closed her eyes in pure bliss.
Afterward, we took another bath, during which I didn't hesitate to enjoy her body again—though this time, without any reward promised—and then I carried her to the bedroom to rest. Apolline Delacour was out cold the moment her head touched the pillow.
As for me, I quickly changed into a fresh set of clothes, prepared specifically for an event like this, and headed downstairs.
"I'll be extending the suite for another three days," I told the witch at the front desk.
"Of course, sir!"
"And for now, I don't want anyone entering the room."
She nodded wordlessly, accepting the instruction. To ensure she remained... motivated, I handed her a few Galleons as a tip. It cost me nothing—and she clearly appreciated it.
The Council of Houses was to take place in a small village south of Berlin called Wassmannsdorf. Apparating to one of the designated entrances, I was stopped by local wizards assigned to secure the event. Their unit had an odd name—the Stasi. Strange branding, but ultimately, I didn't care.
"Your invitation," said a tall blond wizard with piercing blue eyes.
I handed him the letter. He scanned it quickly, tapped it with his wand to verify authenticity, then stepped aside to let me pass. I moved through a small park and emerged onto a vast field filled with dozens of colorful tents, each bearing the banners and sigils of various Houses. At the center stood a towering, round building modeled after a Coliseum.
As I walked across the field, the effects of my past actions were immediately clear. Smaller Houses now occupied far more space than before—a sign of how much room had been made since my purge. At regular intervals stood ornate pavilions designed for nobles to socialize, though most were currently empty. Everyone was heading toward the main structure.
I fell in step with a group of young aristocrats who paid me no attention, their minds preoccupied with trivialities: evening plans, estate invitations, gossip. For them, today's gathering wasn't particularly significant—they had no say in the vote. And if nothing depended on them, why bother worrying?
That was the rhythm of their lives: idle, disconnected, floating through privilege.
At the entrance to the Coliseum stood members of the Swiss Guard, along with other elite wizards—each strong enough to challenge a battle-mage head-on. Security was further bolstered by Church enforcers and combat wizards from Malta. The protection was beyond excessive, but it allowed the more delicate members of the aristocracy to breathe a little easier.
"Timothy!" a deep voice called out. I turned to see Oblan waving to me from among a cluster of battle-mages. He still looked like a living mountain encased in armor—a force of nature who could crush nearly anyone in this arena in single combat.
"Greetings," I nodded in return.
"Are you ready?" he asked. "They'll be voting on whether to grant you the title today."
"Ready enough," I replied casually. "And if they don't grant it, I'll just have to have a serious talk with a few other aristocrats."
"Heh," Oblan chuckled. "Yeah, I know how you talk. So honestly, I think that title's already in your pocket. How should I address you?"
That last question came in a more formal tone, in line with proper etiquette.
"By name when we speak privately," I waved a hand. "In public, follow protocol."
"Excellent," Oblan nodded with satisfaction. "Shall I escort you to your seat?"
"Please."
He led me through a winding network of narrow corridors and stone tunnels. The silence between us was weighty, but not uncomfortable. I sensed no danger from Oblan, so I saw no reason for concern. After several minutes, we reached a narrow passage that opened into the covered section of the Coliseum.
This was the area reserved for the Emperor's retinue. But with no official Emperor yet—and thus, no retinue—it stood empty. Even the seat coverings were plain and colorless, devoid of any House insignia or embellishment. That would change soon. I took the frontmost seat, hidden from the crowd by powerful concealment charms, and glanced over the viewing screens and dueling arenas, where wizards were currently testing their mettle.
My arrival did not go unnoticed.
The first to approach was the event coordinator, followed closely by the master of ceremonies. Both were older men, their appearances worn by age, but that didn't diminish their presence. Each was a Master in at least one field of magic, and their names commanded respect.
"Timothy Jody," the coordinator greeted me. "I see you've arrived safely."
"Should I not have?" I asked with a raised brow.
"From what I've heard," he replied calmly, "some opposition Houses arranged a trap for you on your way here."
"How charming," I said with a low chuckle. "Well, I'm here now—so I'll deal with them later."
"Excellent," he nodded. "The coronation will be held first. After that, we'll address several matters that concern all noble Houses."
"I see," I replied, absorbing the information. "Do you support me?"
"Yes," both men answered in unison. "Once everything is concluded, we—and the other Houses—will swear our loyalty to the new Emperor."
"Perfect," I smirked. "Anything I should be aware of?"
"Yes," the master of ceremonies stepped forward. "After the formal announcement is made—but before the coronation—any wizard of noble blood has the right to challenge you to a duel. And you may not refuse."
"And you think someone will dare?" I asked, mildly surprised.
"Whether they dare or not is one thing," the master exhaled, "but there are certainly some who will try to seize the moment."
"Understood. Thank you for the warning," I nodded. "And how may I address you?"
"Florian the Third of Westphalia," the coordinator introduced himself.
"Andun Lothar of Agronome," said the master of ceremonies.
"You already know my name, but allow me to formally introduce myself—Timothy Jody."
"My lord, future Emperor," Florian said respectfully, "would you like to summon your retinue?"
"Whom exactly?"
"The House of Sharmaken and the House of Mendoza," he replied. "They are the ones who called the Council and will formally nominate you for the title of Emperor."
"Summon them."
Honestly, I probably should've arranged that earlier. But no matter—I had a decent excuse: I ran out of time. I doubted they'd hold it against me.
And sure enough, after a short while, the Sharmakens and the Mendozas arrived. At the entrance, there was a brief moment of awkwardness—apparently, it was quite important to them who stepped through the doorway first. But since Mari had already been officially designated as my consort, and Lucia was still only a potential candidate, the Sharmakens entered first.
"My lord," Mari said with a graceful curtsy. "You look wonderful."
"Thank you," I nodded. "You look lovely too."
She truly did. Mari had dressed to impress, and the result was nothing short of seductive.
"Lucia, it's good to see you as well," I said, nodding to the Spaniard.
"My lord," she smiled, her voice warm. "I can't wait for the coronation."
"Neither can I," I replied smoothly.
Mari took the seat to my right, and Lucia sat to my left. Their respective House representatives entered behind them, exchanging glances and low whispers as they studied me. I paid it no mind. Their judgment didn't concern me—I was simply waiting for the event to begin.
Down below, a few wizards cleared the field. Then, a small platform was rolled out. Atop it stood a grand throne—ornate, gilded, and embedded with inlaid gems. But more than that, it was clear this throne wasn't just ceremonial. It was a magical artifact, and a powerful one at that. I couldn't yet discern its full purpose, but I suspected I'd find out soon enough—by sitting in it.
Along the walls of the Coliseum, white flags began to appear. These were placeholders—soon to be replaced by my colors. After that, every banner across the continent tied to the Emperor would bear my symbol. A pity I hadn't designed one yet. I really should've thought of that beforehand.
Next, a large orchestra entered the field. The musicians took their places and began tuning their instruments. Moments later, the conductor strode out, gave a polite bow in my direction, and returned to his position. A hush fell over the crowd as the first violin drew out the opening melody.
"What do you think?" Mari asked.
"I like it," I said thoughtfully.
"That's Shostakovich," Lucia added from the other side. "Though I prefer Rimsky-Korsakov. Especially his Scheherazade."
For a moment, I felt like a complete uncultured boar. I didn't recognize a single piece—not Shostakovich, not Rimsky-Korsakov, and definitely not Scheherazade.
"Can't argue with that," Mari sighed. "Rimsky-Korsakov's Capriccio Espagnol is also wonderful."
"Opus 34?" Lucia clarified.
"That's the one."
"I agree. But I'd still love to dance to Shostakovich's Second Waltz," Lucia said dreamily.
"I've always liked Strauss," I offered, reaching for any classical reference I could recall. "Especially his Voices of Spring waltz."
"Ah, Strauss," Mari nodded approvingly. Lucia smiled in agreement.
"The Emperor Waltz absolutely has to be played at your future balls," she said.
"Is that really necessary?" I asked, raising a brow.
"Well, not exactly," Mari said, drawing out her words with a teasing lilt. "But balls are such a lovely place for noble Houses to mingle. Why do away with tradition?"
"Alright," I sighed. "We'll see how things go."
About an hour later, the orchestra concluded their performance, and enthusiastic applause erupted from the aristocrats in the stands. Someone even tossed flowers onto the field in appreciation. I clapped as well—they had played beautifully. I made a mental note: I really ought to learn something about music one of these days.
This time, Florian appeared on stage. He stood tall and calm, scanning the crowd while he waited for the applause to fade.
"Greetings, friends," he called out clearly. "I hope your journeys here were swift and uneventful. As you can see, the weather today is beautiful—just right for the decisions we're about to make."
His tone shifted—lighter warmth gave way to solemnity. The air itself seemed to still. Everyone present understood: this was no longer the time for pleasantries.
Every magical aristocrat in attendance knew they stood at the edge of a new era. And none could yet say what that era would look like. To most of them, I was still an unknown—no, worse. I was the dark dragon from the old tales, dangerous and unpredictable. Something to be respected, feared, and—if possible—tamed.
"We've all been summoned to this Council," Florian continued, "to address a number of matters that have recently reached a critical point." He paused briefly. "And the first matter we must discuss and resolve… is the selection of our new Emperor."
The emotional wave that passed through the crowd was palpable. Every noble present had heard of my activities—the rumors, the purges, the rise in power. Some stared at me with eyes wide in barely restrained terror. Others watched with keen interest, intrigued by the opportunities I might bring. And then there was a third group—those who wanted me gone.
Observing the emotional shifts was genuinely amusing. These people were so fickle, so easily manipulated. With the right pressure, the right illusion, even former critics could be swept away by the tide of the crowd's convulsions.
"As you already know, the candidate is more than worthy," Florian continued, his voice carrying through the hushed air. "And I, personally, believe he will make an excellent leader for us. But I also understand that we must all choose to follow him—willingly. That is why we are here today. So… what you say?"