The Imperial Throne Room gleamed with ceremonial splendor. Gilded formu patterns traced the walls, mathematically perfect in their geometry, capturing and reflecting the morning light that streamed through towering crystal windows. Nobles, officials, and guild representatives filled the chamber to capacity, their murmurs creating a wave of anticipation.

  Emperor Lucian Veritum sat upon the Formu Throne, the weight of his new responsibilities settling over him like the heavy imperial regalia he wore. The coronation had been one week prior, and today would mark his first official act as Emperor. His gaze swept across the assembled crowd, recognizing allies and opponents alike.

  Duke Marcus Veridian stood in a position of honor, his weathered face showing quiet satisfaction. Nearby, Magistra Illumina's stern countenance softened with pride as she observed her former student. The newly reformed Archmage Novus, who had repced Septimus after the assassination conspiracy was revealed, maintained a carefully neutral expression.

  Behind these prominent figures stood representatives from the general popuce—craftsmen, merchants, farmers, and borers. Their presence was unprecedented at such an imperial decration, but Lucian had insisted on their attendance.

  Silvius stood to the right of the throne, officially installed as Imperial Advisor. His silver eyes caught the light strangely, seeming almost to glow from within as he surveyed the crowd with ancient patience.

  "Let the Imperial Decration be read," Lucian commanded, his voice carrying effortlessly through the chamber.

  Royal Scribe Tacitus stepped forward, unrolling an eborate parchment covered in precise formu script. The elderly man's voice was surprisingly strong as he began to read.

  "By decree of His Imperial Majesty, Emperor Lucian Veritum, First of His Name, Protector of the Formu Realm, and Guardian of Knowledge: Henceforth, formu instruction shall be avaible to all citizens who demonstrate aptitude, regardless of birth, station, or origin."

  A ripple of reactions spread through the crowd—gasps from conservatives, nods from reformists, whispers among the common representatives.

  Tacitus continued reading. "The Universal Education Edict hereby establishes the Imperial Formu Academy system throughout all provinces. Each district shall maintain at least one Formu School open to qualified students of all backgrounds. Instructors shall be appointed based on skill and teaching ability rather than lineage. Curriculum shall be standardized across all schools to ensure quality."

  The scribe paused, adjusting his spectacles before proceeding to the section that would prove most controversial.

  "Furthermore, the Crown establishes the Common Formu Grant to provide resources for students of limited means. No person of talent shall be denied education due to financial constraints. Provincial governors shall allocate no less than one-eighth of annual tax revenue toward educational establishments."

  Several noble faces darkened at this pronouncement. Resources that had once been directed primarily toward aristocratic interests would now support commoners. The mathematically precise fraction—one-eighth—had been calcuted by Lucian himself to provide adequate funding without overburdening provincial treasuries.

  Livia, now a promising student at the Imperial Formu Academy, stood with the other selected students. Though still young, she carried herself with unusual dignity, her eyes shining with fierce pride as the decration continued.

  "Innovation and adaptation of formu knowledge shall be encouraged rather than restricted. Regional Formu Councils shall be established with representatives from all csses to review new applications and techniques."

  Tacitus lowered the scroll slightly, his voice taking on added gravity for the final section.

  "The crime of knowledge suppression is hereby established. Any person who deliberately prevents another from accessing wful formu education shall face imperial justice. Knowledge belongs not to the few, but to all who can responsibly wield it."

  The scribe rolled the parchment closed with ceremonial precision, bowing to the Emperor before stepping back.

  Lucian rose from the throne, his gaze sweeping the assembled crowd. "This decree does not destroy tradition; it fulfills its true purpose. The Grand Architect's design encompasses all minds capable of perceiving mathematical truth, not merely those of fortunate birth."

  He descended the three steps from the throne dais, moving closer to the assembled representatives—an unprecedented gesture of accessibility for an Emperor.

  "I have seen what becomes possible when minds are freed to reach their potential," he continued. "Our empire will grow stronger, not weaker, when talent is cultivated wherever it appears."

  Noble Lord Cassius, a vocal opponent of reform, stepped forward with practiced deference that barely masked his displeasure. "Your Majesty, such wholesale change risks destabilizing the very foundations of formu practice. Centuries of tradition—"

  "Centuries of selective memory," Lucian interrupted calmly. "The Formu Genesis Scrolls clearly show that early practitioners were selected by ability, not bloodline. We are not destroying tradition, Lord Cassius. We are returning to its original intent."

  "The financial burden on the provinces—" began another noble.

  "Will be offset by increased prosperity," Lucian finished. "Duke Veridian's province has already demonstrated this truth. His region's productivity has increased by nearly one-third since implementing educational reforms three years ago."

  Marcus Veridian nodded confirmation, his presence serving as living proof of the Emperor's cims.

  The crowd's attention shifted as a young girl in simple clothing stepped forward from among the common representatives. A hush fell over the assembly as she addressed the Emperor directly—something that would have been unthinkable mere months ago.

  "Your Majesty," she said, voice steady despite her youth, "what happens when those in power refuse to obey this decree?"

  Several nobles bristled at the implication, but Lucian smiled at the child's directness.

  "An excellent question, young one. The Imperial Inspectorate will have offices in each provincial capital to ensure compliance. Citizens may bring concerns directly to these representatives, bypassing local authorities if necessary."

  The girl nodded, satisfied, and stepped back into the crowd.

  Education Minister Helena moved forward on Lucian's signal. "Implementation begins immediately in the capital, with provincial expansion to follow within six months. Training of new instructors is already underway, and curriculum standards have been developed."

  As she detailed the practical aspects of the decree, Lucian returned to the throne, exchanging a brief gnce with Silvius. His advisor's expression remained composed, but his silver eyes held a depth of satisfaction that spoke of goals long pursued finally coming to fruition.

  When Helena finished, Lucian addressed the assembly once more. "This decree is but the first step toward a stronger empire. When knowledge flows freely, innovation follows. When opportunity expands, loyalty deepens. When justice applies equally, society stabilizes."

  He gestured to the People's Representative Council standing together at one side of the chamber. "These individuals will serve as the inaugural members of the Imperial Advisory Board, ensuring that voices from all parts of our society contribute to governance."

  The announcement sent another shock wave through the traditional nobility. Not only was formu knowledge being democratized, but imperial advisement itself was opening to common influence.

  "Your Majesty," protested Lord Ptinum of the Banking Guild, "such radical changes, implemented so quickly—"

  "Are long overdue," Lucian finished firmly. "The empire has stagnated while potential withers. I have spent years carefully studying these issues as Duke of Novaris before implementing them there. The results speak for themselves—increased prosperity, reduced unrest, strengthened loyalty."

  He stood, signaling the formal conclusion of the decration. "The decree is sealed with imperial authority. Let it be recorded and distributed throughout the realm."

  As the assembly began to disperse, Lucian noticed an urgent messenger slip into the chamber and approach Silvius. His advisor listened intently, expression darkening slightly, before moving to Lucian's side.

  "Your Majesty," Silvius murmured quietly, "there appears to be an incident at the Eastern Academy. Perhaps we should discuss this privately."

  Lucian nodded, maintaining his composed expression as he made his way from the throne room. Celebration would be brief; opposition would be immediate. He had known this from the start.

  In his private study, away from public eyes, Lucian examined the report Silvius had handed him. An armed mob had surrounded the Eastern Academy, threatening the instructors and students within.

  "They didn't waste any time," Lucian observed grimly.

  "Reform never comes without resistance," Silvius replied, his voice carrying centuries of observation in its tone. "This is merely the first wave."

  Lucian studied the map of the capital, quickly formuting a response. "Deploy the Imperial Guards—Captain Diana's unit specifically. They've shown commitment to the reforms."

  As he gave further instructions, Lucian felt the weight of the imperial seal on his finger. The heavy gold band with its precise mathematical engravings represented power he had never sought, yet now wielded with clear purpose.

  When the orders had been dispatched, Lucian turned to find Silvius examining the obsidian sculpture on his desk—a small piece of the Demon Realm that had accompanied him through his years in the Human Empire.

  "Two realms transformed," Silvius mused, running a finger along the volcanic gss. "First Novaris province, and now the empire itself. Impressive for one who once struggled to lift a training sword."

  Lucian smiled slightly at the reference to his early failures in demon combat training. "Different kinds of strength serve different purposes. The empire needed this kind of strength, just as Novaris did."

  "And what of the strength that carries you through the long nights of worry that lie ahead?" Silvius asked, his tone gentler.

  Lucian gnced toward the window where the first stars were becoming visible in the evening sky. "For that, I have trusted companions." His eyes met Silvius's briefly before returning to the reports on his desk. "And the knowledge that what we build will outst whatever resistance rises against it."

  Silvius nodded, moving to light the study mps as darkness descended. "The foundations are id. Now comes the harder work of building upon them."

  "One day at a time," Lucian agreed, reaching for the next report. The celebration of his first imperial decree had sted mere hours. The work of implementing it would take years, perhaps decades.

  Outside the pace windows, town criers could be heard announcing the Universal Education Edict throughout the capital streets. By morning, the news would be spreading across the nearest provinces. Within weeks, it would reach the farthest corners of the empire.

  Knowledge, once carefully controlled, had been set free to flow where talent called it. The consequences would reshape the Human Empire forever—exactly as Lucian intended.