POV: Senior Historian Instructor Gregor Blackwood – Imperial Academy Sector 12
The classroom walls were obsidian black, etched with golden timelines of the Blackwood Empire's rise. Not painted—etched, with lasers, by decree of The Dictator herself.
At the front stood Gregor Blackwood, tall, gray-bearded, and sharp-eyed. He didn't speak with energy. He didn't pace or shout. He didn't need to.
His presence alone made the air heavy.
"Open your imperial textbooks," he said calmly, his voice slicing through the room like a blade. "Page 777. Chapter: The Cleansing."
A rustle of pages.
He turned and tapped the wall behind him. A 3D hologram activated, showing a panoramic view of the First Royal Purge. Bodies kneeling. Soldiers of the Black Axe Men raising weapons. The Empire's seal burning above them in the sky.
"Who can tell me what led to the Purge?" Gregor asked.
A student raised his hand.
"Yes, 09-B."
"Sir, it was the disobedience and treachery of over a hundred royal families. They refused to bear the Blackwood name, withheld tribute, and allowed non-Blackwood contact. The Emperor Chris Blackwood executed justice on the first day of the Royal Tribunal."
Gregor nodded. "Correct. And the significance?"
Another student: "The Purge was a reminder that bloodline doesn't guarantee loyalty. Only obedience to the Empire does."
"Yes," Gregor said. "A nation's strength is not in its nobles—it's in its ruler."
He turned back to the class.
"Now… someone tell me about the Law of Naming. Who remembers the phrasing of the official decree?"
A girl stood, posture perfect. "Every citizen of the Empire shall bear the surname Blackwood, regardless of former lineage. Any deviation is treason. All legal documents shall reflect this change or face nullification."
Gregor gave a subtle nod.
"The importance of this law?"
She answered quickly, "It unified the people. It erased division. It branded loyalty onto every soul."
Gregor approached the center of the class, hands behind his back.
"This is not just history, students. This is your origin. You carry that name not for identity, but for accountability."
He pointed to the hologram. "Every drop of blood spilled… every cry for mercy… every fire lit that day… built the foundation you now sit on."
Silence.
"You are not learning about the empire," he said with quiet power. "You are the empire."
He turned back to the board and tapped again. A map of the world unfolded, marked in red and black.
"This is where we are now," he said. "After the Reclamation Wars. After the Lockdown. After the Year of Silence."
Then he looked over his shoulder. "Next week, we cover the Blackwood Expansion into Non-Blackwood lands. Prepare. You will be quizzed—not just on dates, but on loyalty logic and decision patterns."
He tapped once more.
Class dismissed.
Students rose slowly. No chatting. No backpacks swinging. They moved like trained warriors.
Because here, history wasn't a subject.
It was sacred doctrine.
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