Princess's Struggle for Survival-Chapter 460: Empress

In late June, two major pieces of news were broadcast across the entire Valeria Empire via the Empire Weekly.

The first was the public debut of the magical cannon developed by Professor Charlotte and installed within the Liya Tower Fortress.

With just a single shot, the main forces of the Church’s Knight Order gathered before the secondary fortress were eliminated. Ice melted under searing heat, and blood mingled with ash, leaving behind a vast blackened ocean of scorched earth before the castle walls.

Faced with such a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, Duke Charles immediately issued orders, appointed Baroness Lyra, personally granted Holy Knight by the Emperor and renowned for her outstanding achievements in battle, as the vanguard.

Her mission was to eliminate all enemy combat forces stationed at the frontlines, striving to crush the opposing nation’s forces in one decisive strike.

As for the second piece of news, it was naturally the announcement by Emperor Hibbort that Princess Amalia Valeria, the fourth imperial daughter, will be officially recognized as Crown Princess.

He formally acknowledged her status, previously that of a bastard child, before all nobles as the next Emperor, and declared that her coronation ceremony would be held in the Imperial capital on June 24th.

It has been decades since the last imperial coronation. Even among the nobility who possessed innate bloodline advantages, only a few had managed to reach the Arcanist mage level, breaking their natural lifespan limits through magical mastery.

An event destined to be recorded in history, such a spectacle might only be witnessed once or twice in a noble’s lifetime.

Precisely because of this, after news of Amalia’s impending ascension spread, many nobles from distant regions rushed to the capital, eager to catch a glimpse of the future Emperor. The surge in travelers made the task of screening traffic routes increasingly difficult for the Imperial Guards.

Even before the ceremony began, the Imperial capital was already packed with people. Hotels and inns were completely full, and visitors moved through the streets like sardines crammed into a can.

June 24th, Year 1733 of the Common Calendar. The imperial capital of the Valeria Empire basked under a clear sky, cloudless and with exceptional visibility. From the city gates, one can clearly see the grassy waves swaying in the wind on the suburbs and the gently trembling fields of flowers.

In the Third Princess’s residence, warm rays of sunlight streamed through the window, falling upon a head of soft, silky golden hair. Astrid ran her fingers through the tresses, carefully styling the little girl before her.

In the mirror, a golden-haired girl sat composed and dignified. Her blue eyes, resembling fresh sprouts, were partially shadowed by long, delicate lashes, radiating a faint air of authority. Her skin was snow-white, her nose petite, and her pink lips gently pressed together.

Feeling Amalia’s shoulders tense and her waist held rigidly straight, like a fully drawn bowstring, Astrid placed her hand on the girl’s shoulder and gently squeezed.

"There’s no need to be nervous, Amalia..."

"I’ll be with you throughout the entire coronation ceremony."

Yesterday, they had declined all social invitations from nobles, going nowhere, focusing entirely on rehearsal for the coronation.

They had practiced the general flow several times, memorized the specific movements, the parade route, and the speech to be delivered on stage.

The only drawback is that Emperor Hibbort’s deteriorating health prevented him from participating in the full day of rehearsals. In the later sessions, His Majesty was completely absent.

Feeling the meticulous touch of Astrid’s fingertips, Amalia softly exhaled, her gaze fixed on a strand of silver hair resting near her shoulder. Her voice was low and tender.

"I’m fine, Sister."

Rather than nervousness, what she felt was more of an overwhelming excitement.

This day had finally arrived. After tonight, half of the promise she’d made with her sister would be fulfilled.

"It’s just... an indescribable emotion."

Amalia slightly swung her legs tucked beside the chair.

"Time has passed so quickly... it feels like a dream."

Four years of companionship, and in the blink of an eye, it was over.

Hearing Amalia’s words, Astrid, having experienced much herself, smiled gently, her pink lips parting slightly.

"I understand exactly how you feel."

It was like the moment after finishing high school and entering university, realizing that the most intense and unforgettable Chapter of life had officially ended. It always gave one a surreal sensation.

Now Amalia was about to ascend, becoming the highest ruler overseeing the entire empire. She was formally bidding farewell to her childhood and stepping into the next phase of her life.

Thus, some confusion was only natural.

Her fingers gently gliding through the smooth strands, skillfully weaving and twisting, Astrid picked up a silver ribbon from the side and carefully tied Amalia’s golden hair on both sides.

"From today onward, my little princess will enter a new era of her life."

No longer worried about her identity being exposed, no longer needing to hide herself as she once did, no longer imprisoned by her so-called father in a dark, windowless castle.

This was a brand-new beginning.

Suddenly recalling something, Astrid curved her lips into a smile and spoke again.

"I almost forgot. From now on, Amalia is no longer ’little princess,’ but..."

"...Your Majesty, the Empress."

Her hands paused. The girl’s dazzling golden hair was neatly tied on both sides with fine silver ribbons. Gold and silver, both bright colors, perfectly complemented the empire’s symbol, the honeysuckle flower, everything appearing noble and natural.

Hearing Astrid’s words, Amalia lifted her chin and gently touched the ribbon.

"But no matter what title I hold, I will always be your sister."

Status and position were mere titles. What Amalia valued most was Astrid’s love.

Hearing this, Astrid fluttered her lashes, glanced at the wall clock, then placed a hand on Amalia’s waist.

"It’s time to head to Elizabeth Academy of Magic."

That was the first stop of the coronation ceremony, and also the most attended public event of the day.

Amalia nodded, bent down obediently to put on her shoes, and took Astrid’s hand.

"Let’s go, Sister."

Together, they will witness the reversal of the past four years.

Looking at her own reflection in Amalia’s eyes, Astrid gave a slight nod, her voice gentle.

"Mhm."

............

Elizabeth Academy of Magic.

An open-air venue prepared for the nobility to observe. Sunlight filtered through the dome, casting shadows on the stone-paved ground. The morning breeze carried faint floral scents, brushing over neatly arranged seats and the second-floor balconies and windows.

At the focal point of light, an ornate throne, embedded with gems and thick velvet, sat quietly, its layered marble steps bowing beneath it. A magnificent red carpet covered the stone stairs, dotted with scattered patches of sunlight.

Countless nobles had already taken their seats, their eyes eager, awaiting the arrival of today’s protagonist, to witness history’s gears turning once more.

Standing behind the curtain, Hibbort gazed at the semi-circular seating arrangement outside the venue, his expression weary. Even the sunlight refracting onto the throne made the old man’s eyes slightly dizzy.

Feeling his body gradually failing, helplessly watching his health slip away, this pale sense of powerlessness was especially painful.

Waiting for death was agony, but he couldn’t collapse just yet.

He swallowed the-prepared magic potion. Once his vision cleared again, Hibbort stepped out from behind the curtain and, under the gaze of the crowd, slowly ascended the platform and seated himself upon the majestic throne.

In the past, the Emperor of the Valeria Empire, Hibbort Valeria, adorned in luxurious robes, would undoubtedly be the center of attention, the figure everyone watched closely. But today, the true focus of attention lies elsewhere.

Somewhere, ceremonial fireworks scattered into the air. mental-infused winds carried petals, drifting and swirling through the spacious venue like tides.

Nearby, the Imperial Guards stood in orderly formation, their expressions solemn and dignified beneath their helmets. Their cold armor reflected sunlight, shining so brightly it almost hurt to look at.

In the audience, Elise sat upright with her legs pressed together, dressed in black-and-white maid attire. Next to her sat the chief illustrator of the Empire Weekly, Mary, holding pen and paper ready for quick sketches.

This coronation ceremony will be faithfully recorded in the next issue of the Empire Weekly, available for all nobles who couldn’t attend the capital to witness the new Emperor’s ascension.

Amidst the murmuring voices, Elise turned her gaze across the venue. Aside from Duke Charles, who was stationed at the border, the other three Grand Dukes were already seated. The Emperor’s close aides, the four Cabinet Ministers, were also present in formal attire.

The last time such a grand gathering occurred was likely during that international magic exchange competition. Yet even during that event’s final match, the number and stature of guests present were far less than today’s.

One could probably toss a wooden pole randomly in any direction and hit a dozen counts or wealthy merchants.

After a brief murmur, a clear cough echoed throughout the venue.

Seated upon the throne, Hibbort clenched one hand into a fist, bringing it to his mouth as a gesture of decorum. His blue eyes slowly swept across the assembled nobles as he spoke in a low tone.

"The ceremony is about to begin. I ask that everyone maintain silence."

When the Emperor issued an order, no one dared disobey. The noisy chatter instantly disappeared, receding like a tide.

Then came Hibbort’s personal speech.

He spoke of the empire’s foreign enemies and the border conflicts, then transitioned to land, food, livelihood, and taxation, summarizing his briefly.

He didn’t need notes; he had long memorized the speech.

"Though I still wish to lead the empire through the challenges of war, the toll of years of governance on my body forces me to step down, passing this responsibility to the next generation."

"Fourth Princess Amalia Valeria, with her outstanding character, is the most suitable successor."

"She inherits the governing philosophy of past emperors, possesses exceptional talent, understands both ancient and modern wisdom, and is determined to lead the empire to the peak of history."

Succession required proper formalities, and Hibbort elaborates on the new Emperor’s remarkable achievements and foresight, lavishing praise without restraint, adorning her with every conceivable compliment.

Wisdom, benevolence, justice, compassion, lofty ambition, concern for the common people, abilities far surpassing ordinary individuals, she was the most fitting heir.

"After careful consideration, I have decided to pass the throne of the Valeria Empire to my daughter, the current Fourth Princess, Amalia Valeria."

"She shall be the next Emperor of the empire."

As the man’s voice faded, the scattered ceremonial flowers instantly blanketed the red carpet. Amidst the fluttering petals and morning light, a golden-haired girl with a serene expression stepped out from behind the curtain.

Today, Amalia wore a pure white, off-shoulder gown. Her smooth, delicate shoulders were exposed to the air, sunlight cascading over them, highlighting her skin as soft and white as snow.

Her golden, wheat-like hair flowed freely over her shoulders, with slender silver ribbons tied on both sides into bows that swayed gently with the morning breeze and the strands of hair.

Below that is the elegant neckline revealing slender collarbones and a straight-cut white bodice.

The soft fabric wrapped perfectly around the girl’s petite frame. Her hands, clad in white lace cuffs, lightly grasped the lotus-leaf-shaped hem of her dress. A slender silver chain hangs at her waist, harmonizing beautifully with the honeysuckle-shaped embroidery on the skirt, adding folds that enhance the regal aura.

Her gaze lowered to reveal two legs like tender lotus roots, wrapped in milky-white stockings. The fabric was embroidered with the same gold-and-silver patterns.

Between the knees and calves, an additional elongated cross design, absent in ordinary white stockings, makes her legs appear even more slender and captivating.

On her feet were silver high-heeled sandals with crisscross straps, elevating her height while further refining her leg lines. Her soft, smooth white-stockinged feet peeked out slightly, blending nobility with a touch of sweetness befitting her age.

Compared to the somewhat cumbersome high heels, Amalia actually preferred softer-soled leather shoes.

But today was the coronation of a new Emperor, she needed to appear as dignified and formal as possible. A slightly higher heel would soften her petite stature, lending her a bit more imperial authority.

Approaching the throne, Amalia gazed up at the golden-haired man towering above her. She bent her knees, lifted her legs, and stepped forward, ascending the stone stairs one by one in her silver heels.

"Tap... tap..."

Each click of her heels against the stone echoed clearly in her ears, as if the entire world had fallen silent, leaving only this single sound. Amalia stared at the throne drawing ever closer, her heartbeat hurriedly.

When only two steps remained, Hibbort slowly rose to his feet. The gem atop the Imperial Scepter shimmered, and a slender silver needle appeared between the man’s fingers.

Amalia straightened her legs, her blue eyes fixed on her remarkable aged biological father. She calmly accepted the needle, her delicate features composed and expressionless.

"Take it, my daughter."

Hibbort’s voice was low and hoarse, his eyes flickering with fatigue, and a hint of indiscernible relief.

"May you always remember this moment, the weight held within the span of your palm."

By transferring both imperial power and responsibility, he had fulfilled the expectations his own father had once placed upon him, and discharged his duty as the empire’s highest ruler.

Amalia grasped the Imperial Scepter. The cool metallic sensation surfaced in her palm. She paused for half a second, then gently pricked the tip of her finger with the needle’s point.

A burning sensation surged. Several drops of crimson liquid welled from the wound, staining the skin’s texture. Amalia pressed her injured fingertip against the scepter’s gem.

The next instant, azure magical ripples blossomed at the junction of blood and gemstone, rapidly spreading into the air and forming a dazzling ripple.

Hibbort didn’t turn to look. Instead, he traced the same steps Amalia had taken, feeling the connection between himself and the Imperial Scepter weakened. As he passed by the white-gowned Empress, he slowly descended the stone stairs.

Before the throne, Amalia’s mental energy quality, now soul-bound to the Imperial Scepter, surged instantly, hinting at breaking through boundaries and ascending to the legendary mage rank.

Closing her eyes, she quietly stood, feeling the turbulence this connection stirred within her consciousness, until the footsteps faded.

Then, she tightly gripped the scepter once more, lifted her eyelids, and her-blue pupils faintly shimmered with light, entering a combat-ready state of magical release.

But this change lasted only a second. The next moment, Amalia calmed her gaze, slightly lifted her skirt, and took the final step toward the throne.

Under the gaze of everyone present, she sat upon that supreme seat, back facing the sun, holding the Imperial Scepter.

Then, she gently crossed her white-stockinged legs, her authoritative eyes sweeping across the ministers like a god surveying the lives he had created.

"My name is Amalia Valeria, the current Emperor of the Valeria Empire."

Having spoken, Amalia paused. Warm sunlight fell upon the girl’s fair face, illuminating the smooth, delicate back of her foot, the part not covered by the high heels.

"And I shall be the supreme ruler who leads the empire out of the quagmire of war."