There was a knock at the door. “Come in!”, shouted Wenzel shortly afterwards, having been interrupted from his concentrated work. The main door opened with a slight squeak and two figures entered. One of them was Ferenc, a man who needed no introduction. He still wore his typically full Kasharian hair long and still refused to trim his beard. He was accompanied by a man who, like him, wore a red and white uniform with a checked pattern, that of the Crown Guard. Almost as if he wanted to be the opposite of Ferenc, he had a bald head and an equally clean-shaven face. Balduin was his name and his expressive facial features and prominent cheekbones radiated strength, but also a certain emotionality. The emperor was not yet too familiar with him, which was why he had paired him up with Ferenc.
“Reporting back from conducting the survey, my lord. The results are in the report here,” Ferenc explained himself, holding out a folder to Wenzel. Said person accepted it, of course, and thanked him. Then, unexpectedly, he noted: “The report does have its proper purpose. However, for myself I will verify the information in a different way.” His old companion was now somewhat confused by the Chosen One’s words. However, this was soon to change, as Wenzel now asked his colleague, Balduin, to come closer to him. The man obeyed. The ruler then placed a hand on the top of his head and concentrated briefly.
Images of all kinds of people now flooded into his mind. He saw farmers, craftsmen, merchants, people of lower nobility. They all described their experiences in recent years. And they all, despite each of them of course having a different perspective, painted a very similar picture with their claims: Anyone who contradicted the dogmas of the Teleiotic Commune or who did not adhere to some pretty strict social and religious rules could expect draconian punishments. Prison sentences were rare here; instead, corporal punishment or even the death penalty was the rule, depending on the supposed severity of the crime. One ropemaker, for example, talked about the general suspicion of those who “didn’t show enough respect” for the statues of the saints, whatever that meant.
Wenzel finished reading his thoughts. He wasn’t happy. “Still nothing has changed,” he huffed openly. Ferenc's expression became a touch more serious, while Balduin continued to look at the emperor with a reverent gaze. The guardsman then spoke, “We know that things are not being handled as you would like, God’s Chosen. Just say the word and we will arrange things the way you wish!” In response, Balduin earned a contemptuous look from Wenzel, although he actually tried to not be mean and push him away. His body had simply reacted to what he had said of its own accord. The ruler then responded, “It's not that simple. Not even close! The army is eager to maintain this harshness towards the people. But they don't report directly to me. If I say something, they won't change anything. Believe me, I've been trying to do that for years. Apart from promises that they don't keep in the end, I never get anything!”
His two subordinates had to concur. Although Balduin always agreed with him on everything anyway, he now understood this, too. The man had been accepted into the Crown Guard precisely because he was honest and his loyalty to his Chosen One was unshakeable. In his eyes, Wenzel could see the blind obedience and fanatical faith that had been the reason for his acceptance into his bodyguard. It disgusted him! He knew that this mindset had been the driving force behind the Martyrs’ Brigades, that these monolithic beliefs had created the new empire, and were what had brought him here in the first place. And yet he could not understand these people. They just made themselves into puppets, whose strings could be pulled at will.
His Majesty walked along the wide corridors. There was a certain tension in the air. Perhaps it was only due to the fact, that the staff had just cleaned the place half an hour ago and it still smelled quite refreshing. Be that as it may, Wenzel had a very important meeting today with none other than the Imperial Chancellor. The emperor, who arrived on time, entered the meeting room, and found the person he had an appointment with already waiting for him. On one of the chairs in front of him, dressed in fine official robes, sat Peter, the Imperial Chancellor Peter Rubellio. As only the two of them were present, they immediately greeted each other in a friendly and highly informal manner.
“How's the family?”, his old school friend inquired. “Very well! Viktoria is a real whirlwind. Amalie coddles her far too much.” - “And are you sure you aren’t doing the same?”, Peter jokingly jibed at him. His old friend recognized this, of course, and replied, “Guilty!” They both laughed at this. Unprompted, Peter told him about his family, “Unfortunately, things aren't all sunshine and roses for me. My father still isn’t doing better, and my dear wife is at home with my parents to help them out with the situation.” Wenzel just nodded, signalling understanding. Once the mood had dampened again, they both took a seat in their chairs.
His Majesty tapped his finger on the documents lying on the table in front of them. “I assume you have read the report of mine.” - “I have.” - “Then you'll understand why I'm not in a good mood,” Wenzel noted dryly. The Imperial Chancellor glanced at him and then looked at his notes again. He made an equally dissatisfied but also slightly resigned impression. Then he said, “There is also good news. The expansion of the imperial highways is progressing well. Many other major projects are also already underway. The work that has already been completed has contributed to the economic upturn. They are one of the reasons for the significant increase in prosperity in Ordania. And this can be felt by the population. People are slowly getting better and there have been no famines for a long time.”
However, this did not calm Wenzel's anger and he replied, “And what use is all this to us! I wanted the people to have a better future. Yes, of course, that also has to do with trade, the economy and the general standard of living. But what's the point, if only some of my ideas are implemented? The people are still enslaved and forced to slave for their masters!” - “But we were finally able to enforce the ban on slavery last year,” Peter interjected. “And? Serfdom still exists. What is it but slavery with a few small advantages? Being tied to your land, having to do socage, and so on and so forth!” His old friend visibly took a step back from him. The images Wenzel had seen in his courier’s memories were not so different from those he had seen at the time of the revolution. The half-starved people in rags he had seen in Soldach back then still lived on in his consciousness.
Imperial Chancellor Peter had to collect himself for a moment, then he answered, “I understand your frustration, Wenzel, I really do. But the Imperial Council blocks every one of my laws in this direction. With all the conservative Old Believer... er, Teleiotic deputies, I have no chance of getting anything like this passed.” The Sovereign tried to calm down again. He knew this wasn't Peter's fault. He was his ally. Wenzel then explained, “They are all either former Martyrs, meaning ideologues, or they are servile lackeys. The former don't want to oppose the dogmas out of conviction, the latter don't dare to go against the will of the army.”
Peter soberly agreed with him and then added, “The only realistic way is through the army. In my earlier meetings with him, however, the Supreme Marshal did not show the slightest interest in coming to a compromise in any way. The Emperor let out a long sigh. Then he said, “So many years and nothing has changed. ..... I will talk to Theodor personally.” With that, the meeting already ended.
When the Supreme Marshal entered the large audience hall, it was already clear to him that something important was at stake. The very location of the meeting had symbolically communicated this. Theodor entered and met a Wenzel with his back turned to him, looking out of the window. The leaden sky outside also brought a gloom the heart. The man closed the door. Then he walked over to the table, on which a few documents were neatly laid out, and sat down. The emperor seemed to be looking out of the window, still lost in thought. So, the head of the army cleared his throat and raised his voice, “Good afternoon, Wenzel! I have arrived.” The addressee turned to him with an intent stare. You could see how much Theodor had aged. He had gotten a number of wrinkles and his hair had already started to turn gray. As always, the “Hero of the Revolution” wore his highly polished armour, proudly displaying the sun emblem of the empire.
Wenzel now replied, “Why the informality? Is that the way to speak to the sovereign?” Theodor, with a stern and emotionless look, responded, “We have always spoken to each other like this, Wenzel. There has been no reason to change that so far, and besides, I do observe the necessary formalities when we are in public.” That was not a good start to their conversation. The emperor's facial expression distorted a little and he did not continue the discussion that he had begun. He sat down next to the Marshal and pushed the top document over to him. It was a summary of the report that Ferenc and Balduin had given him. Wenzel knew that his counterpart would at least think about his old friend Ferenc's assessment.
“Here. Read it. We'll talk about it afterwards.” And so Theodor did. When he had finished, Wenzel began to introduce the topic, “It has been more than ten years since we failed to keep the great promises we made. The end of serfdom, in other words the achievement of a new freedom for the people, was one of them. This idea seems to be repugnant to you all. But what is even worse is the continued oppression of the people! Wasn't the revolution born out of rebellion against tyranny? So, what was it good for? What will be its legacy? To have replaced one tyranny with another? Tell me!”
As always, it was impossible to tell what Theodor was thinking. The military man stroked his graying beard and gave the mage a serious look as he always did by default. The tension was palpable. Then the Supreme Marshal spoke, “And to everyone he gave his place. So that the fisherman may fish, the shepherd may tend his animals and the ruler may reign.” Wenzel tried to keep his anger in check. It was predictable, of course, that Theodor would be quoting the Holy Testament to him here, and yet his interlocutor had not foreseen it. When the emperor did not say anything in response, the chief of the army continued:
“For the most part, the people accept their role in this country. Except for those who deny the sanctity of the Chosen One. How can it be that YOU, who are the freest here, the one at the head of the state, are the most concerned about freedom?” - “The freest? I can't even end this cruel oppression. If I were to sign decrees contrary to the Imperial Diet or the army, you would simply ignore them or override them with sophistry! I am free..... free from doing anything!” Wenzel was literally fuming, but his counterpart added, “It's just as I've always said. Everyone has their God-given place in the world, whether they like it or not. Freedom is just an illusion. Everyone will always be limited in what they can do. That's what reality dictates.”
“You think you have to treat me like a child, that you know what's good for me or my country better than I do! I'm no devout enough for you, am I?” Theodor remained silent and his eyes gave away no information, no emotion. The wizard was about to continue, but then noticed that the Supreme Marshal wanted to say something. He let him go first. “There is still great hatred of the ‘new demon emperor’ in some parts of the country. The blame for this lies in the propaganda of the previous usurpers and their heretical hatred of all that is holy! I and the army only want to protect you from them and drive this hatred out of the people. But that will take a long time.”
“Excuses! I am well aware of the way some people think. They are not the majority and will never be the majority. You think you have to protect me from my self-inflicted immaturity. Isn't that true?” Theodor remained silent, but for the first time he briefly turned his gaze away from Wenzel. The emperor now reacted to this in a completely exaggerated manner. He began to shout loudly, “I knew it! You're not taking me seriously! I have read the Testament. I have read it in its entirety! I know very well what you are talking about and what you believe. I order you to lessen the draconian punishments in the country! If the army supports this, it will pass the Imperial Diet and the Imperial Chamber Court.”
The old revolutionary leader rose from his chair. He was still a giant and clearly towered over Wenzel. The black bear radiated his well-known dominance. He now looked down at the Chosen One with a serious but not an angry gaze, looking him straight in the eye. “No,” was all he said. Then he pushed past the emperor, said goodbye and left the meeting of his own accord. Furious, Wenzel kicked his chair over. But with all the mental fortitude he could muster, he immediately tried to keep his temper under control again. Under no circumstances was he to explode here. The man, who was metaphorically left standing in the rain, leaned against the table, deeply breathing in and out, in and out. The realization of what had just happened slowly seeped in. He had failed. Achieving his goals now seemed hopeless.
Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation.
A fly was sitting on top of the wall on the orange wallpaper. With its compound eyes, it looked down at the imperial couple, who were walking from room to room and discussing. The mage had just informed his wife about the incident with Theodor. “And he just took off like that?” - “Yes, he did.” - “That's because you never earned yourself respect. And now it’s too late for that.” Bringing the matter up again, Wenzel's latent anger immediately came back to life. He turned away from Amalie briefly so as not to give her the feeling that he was angry with her. After all, it wasn’t her fault. The emperor nervously paced back and forth between the divan and the closet. He stopped and realized:
“You're right. I never had the respect of the other Martyrs.” She was indeed right, as was so often the case. But this did not help the fact that this realization annoyed and upset him. His wife said, “That's partly because you weren't with the revolutionaries from the start, but also because you were always too weak and cowardly to take any influence on any decision at all. They're just used to bypassing you.” - “Weak!”, Wenzel repeated her words indignantly. “Yes, weak! You've always been a weak emperor. We all know that.”
This offended Wenzel, although he knew it was true. He hated this situation. There was nothing he could do to change the circumstances. The man slumped down on the divan, his fist still clenched. This raised a few doubts in Amalie's mind as to whether she had spoken too bluntly to her beloved and should perhaps have chosen softer words. She moved next to him and gave him a hug. “You're a good-natured person who has everyone's best interests at heart. That's a good thing. It's just that being kind is not an ideal quality for running a country.” After saying this, Amalie felt her husband's tense muscles relax a little. He replied:
“I have also always avoided any conflict with the others, including Theodor. I was never cut out to be a ruler. But August already knew that, too. It was the reason why he believed he could betray me back then and the reason why he had not given the emperor the right of veto in the Imperial Diet. Everyone knew that I was weak. And that I was. I was always shy. But I can't change that easily.” - “And you don't have to,” his wife tried to comfort him. “I love you just the way you are!”, Wenzel let out a long breath through his nose, then replied: “But that doesn't help me to create a better future for the people either.” There was nothing she could say in response.
The two then sat together quietly for a while, trying to let the melancholic emotions settle. Then they changed the subject. “Viktoria doesn't get on well with the other children. What could we do about this?”, the mother asked him. “Nothing, I guess. She needs to learn how to deal with others, even if that means, that we have to reprimand her every time she misbehaves,” her husband answered. He had no idea about parenting either and the fact that Viktoria had such a completely different personality to him or Amalie, was an additional obstacle. His sweetheart then commented, “I think you're right. But that's not all. Viktoria's magical abilities sometimes do wild things and I have no idea how to deal with them. Could you please help her with her magic?” - “To learn to control it? Sure, I can do that. Our little one needs to learn how to handle this responsibility too. I'll spend some time with her over the next few days.” - “Good,” was all his sweetheart said in reply.
A huge number of mounted fighters charged at a gallop towards enemy lines. The sun was beating down and it seemed to be a hot, dry day. This was also indicated by the huge clouds of dust, that got whirled up by the turmoil of battle. Shouting, bellowing, blood, sweat, metal clanging. One man's horse, on which he was riding, was killed under him and he dismounted from its body, which had fallen to the ground. “Belesar! Commander Belesar!”, someone shouted behind him. The man in a golden yellow uniform turned to the one who had called out to him, revealing a sun emblem on his back. It looked like a strangely distorted, alternative version of today's imperial coat of arms. Then the vision ended. Wenzel was aware that it was one as he slipped into the next dream.
In this one, he was now walking through the forest. A pure coniferous forest stretched out before him. It was cool and dusk was already falling. Nevertheless, the birdsong could be clearly heard. When he had passed a few trees, he suddenly saw a person in front of him. With his back turned to him, a man with long, brown hair stood there. Wenzel's breath got caught in his throat. For a moment, he didn't know what to do, so shocked was he. “August? Is that you, August?” There was no answer from him. He moved closer. Fear dominated him. Then, as he reached out to grab the shoulder of the person in front of him, he was abruptly jolted out of his sleep.
The jumpy awakening had also startled Amalie. “Is everything okay?”, she inquired. “Yes. I just had a nightmare, that's all,” replied her husband. She asked, “Another vision?” - “Yes. It was scenes of some battle, with people I've never seen before.” - “Do you want to...” - “Not necessary. It's no use anyway.” What did the emperor mean by that? Well, his spouse had just been about to suggest that he write down his prophetic visions in a dream journal. A few years ago, he had started writing down everything he saw in his “vivid” dreams. However, this note-taking did not achieve much, as the magician discovered. “Ninety-nine percent of what I see is just useless information, that I can't do anything with anyway. Even if it were useful to me, I can hardly ever make anything of it,” Wenzel had argued at the time.
That's why he had stopped keeping such a journal. The prophecies could show absolutely anything, which is why they were mostly useless. What exactly they showed was quite correct, but as with a large jigsaw puzzle of which you only had a single piece, it was difficult to make out what would happen and what you had to do to forestall it. But he could prevent the visions from happening. He had already proven this.
He lay down again and asked his sweetheart to do the same. Though, he couldn't quite get the dream out of his head. Not the one about August, a ghost that would probably haunt him for a long time to come, but the one about the foreign warriors. “They looked like they were from a different era, with different insignia and armour. But I believe that this scene was in Camenia,” the Chosen One now thought to himself. Could it have been a vision from the past? Probably, because he had frequently been seeing events from the distant past in his dreams in recent years. He didn't know why exactly. Some people would think that there was no point in questioning the supernatural, but for Wenzel it was different. He wanted to find out about magic and how it worked. He just couldn't see any system behind it. It all seemed completely random to him. Images of the past AND the future. How and why?
In a recently refurbished, newly furnished room, two people sat on a fine carpet in the middle of the room. The place was brightly lit by two large windows. The cream-colored walls, still quite freshly painted, were in part lined with a wardrobe, a shelf and a desk. There were blankets and pillows with pink covers on the bed. They were girly colours, that had been chosen for her new daughter. There was also an unreasonable amount of stuffed animals. All of this was Amalie's doing, as Wenzel did not interfere.
The aforementioned wizard was now sitting on the floor with his child. The girl, who was wearing a very fine dress, now took the floor, “Can I have some more sweets, Sir?” - “No, not right now. We're going to do something important first. When we've finished, you can have some as a reward.” - “But I want some now!”, the little girl grumbled. Wenzel rolled his eyes and said, “Viktoria! Business before pleasure. That's how the world works. Do you understand me?” The girl pouted and played coy. But a few seconds later she replied, “Yes, Sir.”
He could live with that. Amalie coddled the child far too much. Wenzel would have to talk to his wife about the matter of the sweets. It couldn't be that Viktoria only ate boilded sweets and other sweet stuff all the time. She had to learn moderation, just as she had to learn the right behaviour. There was so much for her to learn. She would have to catch up on all the things she hadn't come to know or hadn’t needed in her simple country life. But today they were here for something else.
“You and I are going to practice using magic a little today, okay?” When the girl heard that, her mood immediately did a 180-degree turn. “Great! No silly etiquette stuff!” Her father didn't comment on that further, but simply enjoyed her interest in wizardry. He explained to her, “Like everything else in the world, magic is something you have to learn slowly, step by step, and practise over and over again to get good at it. We’ll start with the basics and only later do we move on to the more complicated things.” - “Mhm,” the little girl simply responded, her gaze eagerly fixed on him.
Viktoria seemed to be paying attention but was already drumming her feet nervously. Her magic teacher continued, “Your magical power is tied to your emotions. That means, that if you get angry, all sorts of bad things can happen. Do you understand that?” - ‘Yes,’ she replied without further ado. “That's why we have to learn to control our emotions and keep them in check so that we don't do anything bad.” His pupil stood up again. Folding her arms in front of her, she asked directly, “And how am I supposed to do that? I just feel the way I feel! If somebody makes me mad, then they deserve what happens next!” - “No, no, Viktoria. We hold ourselves back, no matter how hard it is. Just remember: the wiser head gives in,” Wenzel intervened immediately and tried to appeal to her reason.
“That sounds stupid!”, the little one snapped back. “Viktoria! We restrain ourselves. Are we doing this?” - “Yes, Sir,” the girl grumbled and then sat down next to her adoptive father, who had indicated that she should come to him. Then he said, “Concentrate on yourself first. Close your eyes and look deep inside yourself. Can you feel the flow of magic?” - “Yes, I can.” - “Very good. Now try not to let it leak out.” The child strained. Her aura diminished but did not disappear completely. “Well done. You're on the right track,” Wenzel praised her and added, “Block out all your emotions. Concentrate only on the one fixed pole of calm within you. If you practise it long enough, you'll soon be able to do it.” Her aura decreased a little more.
Then they took a break from it by moving on to doing the opposite. This time, they practiced emitting as much magical power as possible. When the emperor said this to his daughter, she started immediately. Victoria's aura shot upwards like a jet of flame. At that moment, Wenzel could not hide his amazement at its strength. Viktoria had much more magical power than he did. When she saw his reaction, a cheeky grin crossed her lips. Immediately afterwards, Ylva, who had been standing guard outside, threw the door open. “Is everything all right?” - “Don't worry about it. I've got everything under control,” he reassured her. Even the bodyguard had felt the sheer pressure emanating from the girl’s aura. This only made the ruler all the more aware of how important it was to train the child properly.
Day of Blessing, 24.10.453 M.G.
It was damp and dark, and the icy cold had crept deep into his bones. The prisoner leaned against the stone wall of his cell like a sack of potatoes. His long, unkempt hair and much shorter but no less scruffy beard hung down to the floor. He had been here too long to have any sense of time at all. If he had been told that he had been here for sixty years, he would have believed it. Suddenly, however, a metallic clanging sound could be heard. The heavy gate to the dungeon opened and the guard stepped inside. It was probably dinnertime again.
Or was it? No, it wasn't the usual prison guard who came in, and it wasn't one person, but several. Between his long, matted villi, the prisoner glanced out through the bars and at the new arrivals. They wore garments with a red and white check pattern and a sun on their tunics. A deep, masculine voice now thundered loudly through this hellhole, “Congratulations, miscreants! On the occasion of the Day of Blessing, His Majesty has issued a general amnesty. You are all free!” There was no reaction from any of the convicts. It was such bizarre news that none of them could ever have imagined hearing it. Many of them probably thought they were dreaming, while others, like our guy, simply took a while to actually realize what they had just been told.
“Free? Isn't this too cruel a joke here?”, thought Lucius, who had finally awoken from his dreamlike state and sat up. But it was no joke. The guards began unlocking the cells one by one and leading the prisoners out one after the other. The boy, who had not yet realized, that he had already become a man over the years, could not believe it. While he waited his turn, two of the Crown Guards, who were keeping watch down here for safety's sake, were conversing:
“His Highness is far too generous. These bastards deserve no mercy!” - “Fool! Haven't you heard that there's been a dispute between His Holiness and the Supreme Marshal? Apparently, it has something to do with the prison sentences, but the Supreme Marshal is putting his foot down.” The other then said, “And what does that have to do with......Oh, that’s what you mean! You think he's releasing the prisoners in protest against him.” - “Exactly.” Lucius still didn't want to believe it. All those years in chains.....
Then it was his turn. The guards unshackled him and led him out of the dark dungeon. When he reached the surface, he was overwhelmed by the blinding light of the sun. The man held his hands in front of his eyes. It took a while for them to adjust to the brightness. “You only have His Highness's magnanimity to thank for that. Be grateful, scum!”, the two guardsmen jeered at him. The young man said nothing and literally let himself be thrown out at the palace gates. After the stairs, they gave him a shove so that Lucius immediately fell onto the dirty street. He stood up, looked around and then back at the guards. They were already on their way to get the next one out of the dungeons.
“Grateful? Ha!”, the man gasped in a weak and raspy voice. “For what? For the death of my mother? Or for all the years in this hellhole? Let him go to hell, this demon! One day, I'll pay you back, if it's the last thing I do!” They were brave words for such a weak, destitute man. Dressed only in rags, he slipped away into the streets of Meglarsbruck. With no idea what to do or where to go, he would be left with nothing but a beggar's existence for the time being. But the bitterness had eaten deep into his heart. His childhood was over.