The early light of dawn had hardly kissed the horizon when Sharath Virayan Darsha started summoning. Throughout the realms, summons were sent out, magically sealed and warded to prevent interception: master minds, engineers with unorthodox but undeniable genius, and discreetly chosen ex-nobles had to report at once. Attendance was not optional; refusal would be penalized.
Sharath's mind was already doing the math: the empire was no longer a matter of land and troops—it was the aggregate of intellect, loyalty, and accuracy. Every scholar, engineer, and former-noble who showed up would be more than a worker; they would be a tool of domination. And yet, every tool was a risk for discord, subversion, or treachery.
As the first batch gathered inside the main hall of the Grimbleton estate—its frivolity removed, its walls charred and scabbed—they were greeted not with greetings, but with a measured survey. Sharath moved amongst them, eyes narrowed, aura softly imbued with the faint glow of evaluation magic. This spell, soft but potent, followed the intent and aspiration of each person. Ancient allegiances, concealed loyalties, and crushed ambitions manifested in faint magical auras that danced in front of Sharath's eyes.
"Ah, loyalty measured," 🐧NeuroBoop whispered in his thoughts, "the aesthetic of empire distilled into figures and purpose. Interesting… and practical."
Sharath tuned out the voice and continued his examination. Every arrival received a profile identification: full name, area of expertise, magical ability, previous political or noble allegiances, and a loyalty score generated by his spell. Anyone showing less than fifty percent loyalty was quietly marked. These persons would not be openly revealed, but there were surveillance precautions—magical protections, enchanted mirrors, and unobtrusive guard assignments—to see they could not move against the empire undetected.
By mid-morning, the hall hummed with tense, disciplined energy. The scholars, knowing they were in the presence of a new emperor with powerful magical skill, kept decorum on guard. Some mouthed things to each other in low voices, but their speech was guarded, measured. Sharath, though, pierced masks. A faint twitch, a micro-expression, the subtle aura of dishonesty or uncertainty—it all told him what he needed to know.
Basanna, his most personal assistant, was assigned the duty of coordinating the empire's magical transmissions and printing facilities. This involved magical typewriters, spell-printing presses, and scroll assembly lines with instant, empire-wide transmission capability. Early testing showed defects: misprinted edicts, magical scrolls going awry, magical ink disappearing or repeating words in infinite loop. Sharath tolerated these initial errors as controlled trials; every mistake was at once a chance to streamline efficiency and a veiled challenge to his scholars' ability.
"Controlled chaos with magical variables," 🐧NeuroBoop observed. "Watching problem-solving under duress—perfect for measuring true loyalty and ability."
Sharath walked purposefully among his students, observing their responses to subtle disruptions he subtly manipulated. A scroll of magical parchment fell from a beginner's grasp and whooshed through the room. Students rushed to intercept it, stumbling over magical wards that subtly changed underfoot. Sharath watched in silence, marking ability, decisiveness, and, more crucially, hesitation or panic that could signal untrustworthiness.
"Aye, the scramble is enlightening," said 🐧NeuroBoop. "Fear, indecision, or lack of attention—tell-tale signs of probable sabotage."
Every researcher was given a workstation to sit at. Basanna managed the magical printing presses, and others set up magical typewriters for proclamation creation and data copying. Every activity was overseen: spell-tainted typewriters couldn't be tampered with without instant discovery, and enchanted scrolls bore signature wards that sensed tampering. Sharath personally adjusted these machines so that no part of the empire's communications network could be hacked.
In the meantime, Sharath assessed each participant's loyalty readings. Participants marked as below fifty percent were given roles of restricted access but maximized visibility. Guards were stationed close by, frequently invisible or merging with surroundings, and magical sigils enabled Sharath to monitor every action. Any show of defiance, willful mistake, or implication to sabotage the empire's structure would result in instant neutralization.
"Efficacy through monitoring," 🐧NeuroBoop noted, "and death as penalty. Neat, isn't it?"
Throughout the day, proposals for reconstruction were made. Engineers proposed ways to repair magical infrastructure, some proposing reinforcement wards on damaged buildings, others proposing enchantments to boost productivity of available resources. Former nobles proposed methods of administration, inventory systems, and supply chain configurations. Each proposal was cross-checked against magical profiles and readings of loyalty. Proposals that conflicted with the interests of the empire, or suggested personal enrichment at the expense of public order, were flagged.
Sharath permitted subtle disruptions at these sessions: a magical projection of a model city malfunctioned, momentarily setting part of a chalkboard on fire. The response of the scholars was indicative—some rushed to help, others held back, calculating risk to themselves. These behaviors were noted in silence. Those whose delay indicated self-interest or treachery were kept under discreet scrutiny.
"Ah, nothing like a controlled trial to test character," 🐧NeuroBoop pondered. "Some fail with poise, others fail with desperation. Either one, neatly categorized."
By mid-afternoon, the system of empire-wide data was coming together. Magical scrolls were charmed to report location, magical disruption, and movement of sensitive data. Sharath deployed students and junior scribes to distribute and test the network. A few scrolls, predictably, broke from the intended course, drifting through the hall and setting off a wild chase. Sharath observed quietly, observing which people responded well, which panicked, and which profited at others' expense from the chaos.
By this point, the loyalty audit was well advanced. Students with readings in excess of seventy percent were put in charge of key functions—running of printing operations, management of magical artifacts, and supervision of data integrity. Those below fifty percent were moved to low-risk, surveillance postings or discreetly cautioned about possible repercussions. One wrong move by these individuals would mean elimination—quiet, swift, and irreversible.
Basanna was able to create the first operational magical typewriter network. Messages were copied throughout the empire with close to perfect accuracy, but small magical mistakes still needed monitoring. Sharath instituted checks on these himself: any errant proclamation might be sabotage, deliberate or otherwise. His wards logged mistakes, and any repetition of errors prompted a direct investigation.
By the late afternoon, strategic plans were developed for reconstruction and enforcement. The intellectual foundation of the empire would administer infrastructure, resources, and communication, while a smaller group of elite enforcers and guards would provide assurances of compliance. Surveillance was integrated into all workflows: magical sigils inscribed on scrolls, wards placed on exits and entrances, and enchanted devices monitoring the slightest deviation in movement or purpose.
"Control by intellect and magic," 🐧NeuroBoop considered, "with a touch of… permanent persuasion if necessary."
As evening began, Sharath inspected the gathered profiles. Unloyal scholars had been found, repositioned, and put under watch. Important advisors had been screened and given assignments that balanced utility and security. All artifacts, spells, and magical devices were located, and the system for empire-wide communication was operational, if still incomplete.
Sharath walked onto the balcony that overlooked the Grimbleton estate, now still in the waning light. The scholars circulated in their designated spaces, students and scribes going about their work in obedience, and guards stationed in silent watch. Each magical signature, each careful variation in intent, was being watched. The empire's intellectual and magical backbone was forming—not just a tool of administration, but an instrument of control.
"The initial step fulfilled," said 🐧NeuroBoop, "loyalty quantified, intelligence tapped, opposition eliminated. Order out of disorder, effectiveness out of terror. Wonderful."
Sharath permitted himself a flicker of satisfaction. The academics were no longer merely contributors—now they were tools of power, screened and managed. Those who had shown themselves disloyal or inept had been removed, their capacity for turmoil eliminated. The empire would expand not merely in land and riches, but in discipline, in accuracy, and in watchfulness.
As the sun set, magical wards glimmered softly across the estate, their gentle light a warning: all was watched, all was examined, all was proved. The empire was more than it had ever been, a dominion of land and soldiery; it was an interwoven tapestry of wit, spellcraft, and relentless power.
Sharath stepped from the balcony and spoke to Basanna, softly but insistent:"Make the data system perfect by dawn. Any bugs tomorrow will be interpreted as sabotage. And double-check the loyalty readings for all the scholars once again. I require absolute surety before we proceed to the next step."
🐧NeuroBoop's last reflection of the day continued to haunt Sharath:"Empires are not founded on ambition. They are sustained by foresight, by discipline, and by the occasional. permanent adjustment. Sweet, methodical inevitability."
Sharath nodded in silence. The foundation had been set. Those who would be loyal to the empire were now tools of advancement. Those who would stand against it were already known—or would soon be eradicated. Amidst the hushed buzz of magical wards and enchanted typewriters, the true might of the empire was becoming apparent.
And on that, the first day of rebuilding and imposing loyalty came to a close—accurate, unyielding, and absolute.