The sunshine was streaming in through the window and its warm rays directly fell onto Viktoria's face. She stirred and initially turned away. The dreams she had experienced tonight were being played back in front of her inner eye once more. She had been at the village pond. In the dream, however, it had been dark and there had been no ducks to feed. When she was little, she had often gone swimming in this place. She had also dreamed of a few of her neighbours' houses, all from Althain. And she had even seen the big mill again, which had always impressed her so much when she had been a child. It was a well-known landmark of the whole surrounding area, which stood in the neighbouring village of Zieslingen. In her dream, it had looked almost exactly as it had in her memories.
Then she finally opened her eyes and got up immediately afterwards. It had already cooled down considerably during the night, a sign that it had become late summer. She went over and opened both wings of the window. Then she looked down briefly at the meadow behind the house. Hardly anything had changed here in all these years. The ancient, huge chequer tree, whose leaves she could almost touch with an outstretched arm from here, still looked exactly as she remembered it. Completely blank, she stared at the flowery meadow and remembered her childhood, which now seemed so distant to her already. When they had played the stick game here and the other children had been dragged away by their parents because they considered Viktoria to be “cursed”.... It had hurt her. Only Isolde had never judged her and seen her as a friend despite everything. “Maybe I should pay her a visit after all,” she mused. After reminiscing about the past like this, she turned around and walked down the stairs.
As she had expected, her parents were already up. Hans was already in the middle of preparing for today's work. When he noticed Viktoria's presence, he momentarily stared at her out of his deep green eyes. He scrutinized her from top to bottom, only to turn away wordlessly and walk towards the door. On the way there, however, he stopped abruptly and said to his wife, “The carpets have become rather dirty by now. Maybe you should clean them again sometime.” His wife seemed very displeased by this and snapped at him. “Don't tell me what to do and what not to do! Better go and do your work! The house is my responsibility, the fields are yours!” A short grumble could be heard from him in response, then he disappeared out the front gate.
Gertrude immediately beckoned her child to the table. “Come on, eat something!” The girl complied and sat down at the small, old table, where her mother then served her a plate with a piece of bread and butter. “Thank you!”, the little girl said, still quite reservedly. “You're always so thoughtful, even though I'll only be with you for a few days.” - “Oh, come on! You're my daughter and you always will be, no matter what happens,” the lady gave back. She didn't realize how much she would hit Viktoria right in the heart with this. When she noticed her little one's reaction shortly afterwards, she fell silent for a moment. Then she changed the subject.
“All that rain has finally come to an end. Thank goodness. I was beginning to think we'd soon be going under here.” After a moment's thought, Viktoria replied, “That was all my fault. My emotions can cause such phenomena.” This seemed to surprise her mother a little. “If I had my emotions under better control, this wouldn't have happened. I'm sorry.” - “You don't have to apologize to me for that. I'm just glad you're feeling better now.” The woman then paused briefly and wondered whether she should ask the teenager what had happened. But then she decided against it. She figured that the girl would open up to her when she was ready.
So, she addressed another occurrence. “You know, it's really surprising.” - “What?” - “The rain only stopped last night, but that very night a fire broke out in Zieslingen.” This caught Viktoria's attention, and she wanted to know more about it. “Really? What has burnt down?” - “The old mill. Of all the things that could have gone up in flames, it had to be the landmark of the area. Well, what can you do.” This revelation now startled and confused the sorceress. She stopped eating for a moment and withdrew into her thoughts. “I dreamt about the mill last night. Could I have actually been there? In the past, it sometimes used to occur, that I would wander around somewhere in my sleep, as if I had been possessed. Could it have been me?” Denying the truth, the child shook her head letting her crimson hair fly back and forth while her mother looked at her with a little worry.
“Is everything okay, Viktoria?” she enquired. “Yes, everything's fine,” the little girl replied. Then she continued, “I'll be going back up to my room. Thank you for your loving care for me. But I just need time alone. That's all.” The lady replied, “That's okay. You know that we love you.” The small smile on her lips, that followed, slightly softened the girl's heart. She ate the rest of her breakfast and then slipped back into her room on the upper floor.
A messenger bird arrived from the imperial city. Balduin had just finished his morning prayer when he got a knock at the door. Facing the sun in prayer, he made the Signum, meaning he patted his heart three times, and then stood up from his kneeling position. One of his subordinates delivered to him a written message addressed to His Holiness. The commander of the guard wasted no time. As quickly as he could, he slipped into his boots and gathered everything up. Then he hurried over to His Majesty as fast as possible. It was still relatively early, but he was sure that his master was already on his feet.
He descended the long staircase to the parlour, where he assumed Their Majesties were still having breakfast. Her Highness, the Empress, was known to often take a long time to eat. As he headed towards his destination, Balduin, through the glass pane of the wide parlour doors, could see two finely dressed ladies talking, while sitting at a small table. Moving a little closer, he could finally make out that it was the emperor's wife and one of her friends.
“I'm sorry, I really don't know Irnfrid that well. At least not nearly as well as you know her,” said a pretty woman with long blonde hair who seemed to be of a similar age to Amalie’s. “I already know that, Emma. But I still need someone to be able to talk to about this,” Amalie responded. “And I definitely can't ask my husband about this. A male simply has no idea what makes us women tick. He would probably just suggest that I comfort her gently and maybe give her some flowers to express my condolences. That's definitely not going to work!” - “Yes, it definitely won't,” Emma confirmed her. Then she suggested, “But showing her that you feel remorse about what happened to her husband in some way certainly is important.” - “Yes, that's exactly why.” But then she stopped talking. From the residential wing, she saw a tall, bald man enter the dining hall. It was Balduin, the commander of the Imperial Guard.
He approached the two elegant ladies without hesitation. When he came to a halt in front of them, they almost felt a little intimidated by his size and imposing presence. Emma even seemed to recoil a little from him. “Forgive the intrusion, Your Majesty. I am looking for my lord.” While Emma seemed to be taken in by the warrior's muscular physique, Amalie paid no heed to it. She looked him straight in the eye and replied, “My husband is at the back on the terrace. All you have to do is turn the corner back there on the left.” She spoke in a dismissive tone, obviously displeased at the interruption to her conversation with her friend. Balduin thanked her and left immediately. Following her simple directions, he promptly reached the emperor.
As he approached, he could already hear the sound of swords clashing against each other. Outside on the terrace, Wenzel and his bodyguard Brahm were engaged in a duel. As always, it was a friendly match between the two. Behind them stretched the fine lawns of the extensive park of this old palace, where they were now temporarily staying. Balduin did not know it, but this scene carried a touch of nostalgia for the Chosen One. After the victory in the Battle of Greifenburg, he and Brahm had practised one-on-one combat against each other in this exact place. This situation took Wenzel back to another time, to a moment he fondly remembered. Brahm lunged out to strike at lightning speed as he leapt at his opponent. The iron swung down from the upper left. But Wenzel skilfully parried his blow and then put some distance between himself and his attacker with a backwards sidestep.
Then Balduin stepped out into the fresh morning air, stopped a few cubits away from the duelists and bowed deeply. “Sire, we have received pressing news from Meglarsbruck. The Imperial Chancellor has personally written an urgent letter to you.” He rose again from his lowered pose and held the letter out to him with an extended arm. Only now did he notice how unkempt His Highness's beard was, which from the looks of it had not been shaved or trimmed for at least a week. On top of that, he had dark rings under his eyes. Wenzel immediately paused his activity, put his sword aside and picked up the message. “Thank you, commander!”, he briefly told him. “Always at your service,” the man addressed gave back.
Quite clumsily, he fumbled with the envelope, which bore the government seal, until he finally managed to open it. Then His Majesty quickly skimmed what had been written inside. He paused and, as was typical of him, pondered for a while without saying anything. Thus, Brahm approached him and asked, “What is it? Is there trouble in the capital?” Wenzel looked him in the face and replied, “You could say that. It seems that Vice Marshal Ulrich is trying to position himself as the new head of the army. Peter asks me to return as quickly as possible and appoint another man as the new Supreme Marshal.”
Brahm immediately understood the gravity of the situation. He saw the fatigue on the emperor's face and decided to ask him the most important question straight away, “And who would that be? Balduin is now the new Imperial Guard commander. So, he's out of the question.” - “What about you? Would you like to fill the role?” Wenzel suggested straightforwardly and bluntly. At this, his faithful friend shook his head in an almost exaggerated manner. “With all due respect, but I don't feel up to such a task. I would much rather stay here to protect you and your wife. That suits me, and besides, there's no one you could trust as much as me on this anyway.” Brahm's arguments made sense to His Highness. Unfortunately, he had to agree with him.
“Hmm,” Wenzel now contemplated intensely. “Perhaps there is a way to appoint Balduin as Supreme Marshal after all. I could name him as both Commander of the Imperial Guard and Supreme Marshal,” he speculated aloud to the two of them. However, Balduin interjected, “I am honoured by your trust in me, my lord, but I do not believe it would be possible for me to fulfil the full range of duties in both roles simultaneously.” The Chosen One cast a disappointed glance over at his subordinate. He knew that he was right.
“Surely a solution will be found. There are more people than just you in the military,” he then said. Still, it had to be someone he could trust one hundred percent. There really weren't that many of this kind around. “Let's go to the Imperial Chancellor first. He'll definitely know someone,” Wenzel then added. Following this, he turned to Balduin and said, “You and I, we will return to Meglarsbruck without delay.” Next, he looked at Brahm and stated, “In the meantime, you stay here with Amalie.” - “As my duty demands,” their bodyguard declared. After a quick consultation with Amalie and a notification of the servants, they already embarked on their journey.
Light brown dust mingled with the smells of the pungent herbs that grew here. This strange combination of scents now reached the nostrils of the journeying duo as their nags dragged lamely along the narrow path. Their spirits lifted when they finally heard the sounds from the secret encampment. A babble of voices from both men and women, knocking, hammering, grinding, sawing, whinnying, all this could be heard on arrival here. Petra and Lucius wasted no time and headed straight for the commander's tent in the sparse shade of the pine trees. Amoroso had been sent to inform Petra's partner, Fabio, of their departure for Camenia. Neither of those two would follow them to the southern climes. While Fabio was not really up for such perilous adventures anyway and preferred to wait for the return of his significant other, Fulco's cousin would return to attend to his business in the capital.
They tethered their mounts at the watering trough and walked over to Etzel's large ridge tent. As they entered, they saw him discussing with a group of two men and a woman. But when he spotted them in the middle of his war leader's tent, he quickly ended his conversation and turned his attention to the new arrivals. “You're back already? I'd be lying if I said I wasn't surprised.” - “Save your strange remarks!”, Lucius interjected rudely and continued, “Entirely new things have come to pass in Ordania since last time.” Petra intervened immediately and took over the rest of the explanations from her companion, fearing that his inappropriate manner could sow discord in their group.
While remaining standing, she brought the grey-haired man up to date on what had happened. He listened intently to her, his facial muscles beginning to twitch at some of the details. When she had finished her account, the man immediately turned around and sat down in his chair across. Now Petra commented, “I believe the time has come to lead our resistance fighters to Ordania to begin the fight against the regime there.” The dismissive look Etzel gave her in response was all she needed to know what he thought of her proposal.
“But why not?” she nagged him. “The right time is NOW. Are you just going to let this window of opportunity pass?” - “No,” he replied composedly, “The situation is somewhat different from what you are aware of.” This left both Petra and Lucius stumped. “We have also made contact with the Kashar Hordes, or what is left of them anyway. They also want to stage an uprising against the Holy Empire while they still can. In their messages to me, they have expressed a willingness to coordinate with us. Last time, the Hordes had no agreement with us, which allowed the Melgarists to deal with our forces and theirs separately. That was certainly to our disadvantage. If we joined forces this time, it would significantly increase our chances of success.”
“But can we really trust these barbarians?”, Mr. Cornel commented. The former Field Marshal responded as follows: “Their trustworthiness is of no relevance to us. They may be heathens, but they will not win the battle for their 'old Kasharovar'. Their pagan customs are dying out, anyone with eyes in their skull can see that clearly. They just refuse to acknowledge reality. However, we could care less about that. What matters is the benefit we can gain from them.” - “I like the way you think, old Sir,” Lucius had to admit to him after all. This man was as cunning as he was himself. Petra also liked this plan. Hence, she then asked,
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“So, we'll wait until we've come to an agreement with them to enter Ordania at the same time?” - “No!”, the former knight of the Confederacy brusquely denied her. “The barbarians want us and all our fighters to meet them in their homeland to discuss the matter face to face, so that we can then attack together.” This provoked indignation from the dark-haired lady. “What? Traveling such a long distance through Ordania at great risk just to meet up with the Kashars is crazy! If you're going to attempt such a suicidal venture, you might as well march straight into the empire and challenge them on the battlefield. That probably has a similar likelihood of success.”
“But we need their help. Unfortunately. We don't have the strength we need, and we won't have it any time soon.” Lucius stood by during all this, weighing up their arguments. Then Petra nudged him and spoke, “You're on my side, aren't you? Come on, tell him that such an approach is counterproductive.” For once, Mr. Cornel was silent for a short moment, until he raised his voice a little after, “The matter is difficult. Even you should know how mighty the Melgarist forces are. It will be impossible for us alone to defeat them, even if we chose the most underhanded tactics.” - “You see!”, Etzel now said in Petra's direction. The woman snorted angrily. “But Mrs. Vogt has a valid point here too,” Lucius tried to smooth things over a little.
At this point, however, the old warhorse in front of them made a most important remark: “We can't make a final decision yet anyway. The Baron isn't here yet and he definitely has a say in the matter. I suggest we wait for him to arrive and then discuss the matter with him again. Then we'll make a decision.” The two could not contradict him here. The decision had to be postponed until Di Alduino joined them.
Mid-morning, they crossed the city limits. It was a mixed day, with alternating clouds and sunshine. Almost resembling a small flock of birds, Wenzel, Balduin and a handful of guardsmen flew over the city walls of the old Imperial City. Out of habit, he initially headed for the Melgarion Palace, until the sight of it from afar reminded him that he was probably better off at the building of the Imperial Diet on the other side of the Duhn if he wanted to find Peter. The wizard immediately turned his thoughts into action, flew over the river that dissected the city and gently lowered himself and his escorts onto the square in front of the former headquarters of the Inquisition. Its architectural style was considerably simpler than that of the Imperial Palace. Less frippery on the walls and windows, fewer columns and no domes. This made the building in the Lafoglia style look less regal and a lot more functional.
His guards lined up behind and around His Majesty. Then they walked forward together to the main entrance of the institution. When the soldiers at the entrance saw the Chosen One and his entourage approaching in their red uniforms with white diamonds on them, they gave them a military salute and allowed them to pass through unhindered. The interior of the building, which Wenzel had only seen once before, was altogether plainer and above all more profane than the architecture from Melgar's time, although it still boasted many paintings on the walls. Walking along the well-lit corridor, they finally came across a person.
A noble, long coat in yellow with a stand-up collar and dozens upon dozens of golden buttons, as well as the coat of arms of his noble house on it, underneath a fine linen shirt, dyed red and on his head a matching, large, equally yellow chaperon. This was the attire the man they happened to meet here displayed. It was the kind of clothing in which one was recognized as a member of the Imperial Diet. The gentleman froze for a moment, but then immediately bowed to duly pay his respects to His Highness. “Greetings, Your Most Serene Highness! Eugen von Rauttenstein is my name; in my capacity I act as Speaker of the Imperial Council.” - “God's blessing upon you!”, replied Wenzel. He was delighted to have met a bigwig at the first attempt. But the feeling was not mutual. No matter how hard he tried, the Lord Speaker's dislike of the Emperor was clear to see. The reason for this was not evident. This was the first time the two were meeting.
“His Serene Highness ....” - “Duke, my lord!”- “Ah, I see. His Most Serene Highness the Duke, would you perhaps know where His Excellency the Chancellor could be found?”, Wenzel inquired. “I'm afraid I do not have the exact details. However, I can confirm that His Excellency is currently frequenting this complex, having temporary accommodation here as well. You would probably be better advised to ask a servant about this.” Apparently, the high-ranking nobleman could not help him. But that was all right. How was everyone supposed to be in the know about everything? Just as four more men in the same robes as the speaker were strutting up from behind, His Majesty thanked the respondent and immediately bade him farewell. The gentlemen, who had intended to introduce themselves properly to the emperor, looked after him in confusion as the sovereign and his bodyguards quickly left. They could still be heard mumbling amongst themselves from a distance. The echo of the spacious building carried their distorted whispers to the ears of the departing visitors.
On he went. He was bound to find someone who could tell him the way to his first ever friend. Around a corner further back, however, he encountered someone completely different. She was dressed in all black, mourning colours and had a gugel pulled up to over her eyes, which caused her to almost overlook the men. But then she stopped abruptly and raised her head, so that the Chosen One could see her face. “Irnfrid! I'm glad to see you here. How do...” He interrupted himself as he remembered what had happened to her husband, and that he probably came across as a little irreverent. The pallor on her face was a clear sign of her weariness.
“Once again, my most sincere condolences, dearest!” That was all he said. The widow just looked at him, seemingly waiting for Wenzel to make further comments. But nothing came, and she just gave him a barely perceptible nod. Now the commander of the Imperial Guard approached from the side and asked, “Do you know where we can find Chancellor Peter?” Irnfrid just stared, transfixed, but a maid accompanying her answered him. “His Excellency is quartered in the south wing. Room 452.” - “Thank you! That's a great help to us,” replied the military man. Thereupon, His Holiness already bade them farewell, “Well then, I wish you....” - “Don't you have anything else to tell me, Wenzel?”, his old friend interrupted him in a disrespectful tone.
He stopped dead in his tracks. He didn't know what to say. Therefore, the lady eventually raised her voice, “You're probably only in town to do some necessary business. Then you'll presumably go away again, away from here, because the court has no alternative accommodation in Meglarsbruck. You'll probably just want to get away from here again as quickly as possible, just like the day my husband died! How could his death have affected you at all, if you left immediately afterwards without even attending his funeral?” She took a short breath for what she was about to say. “Be honest with me. His death was convenient for you! He was a thorn in your side for a long time because he was the hero of the revolution, and you were just the little boy who always stood in his shadow!”
This statement made the veins on Balduin's forehead pop out. Full of rage, he stepped forward and snapped sharply at Irnfrid, “How dare you speak to His Majesty like that, woman! If it...” He was about to give her a lecture with a raised finger when his master intervened. He thrust his hand in front of the commander and pushed him backwards with his palm. “That's enough, Balduin!”, he said in a calm and collected tone. “Nothing else is to be expected from the Diamonds. Your whole life you've only had your brains scrambled!”, the woman then doubled down.
The emperor did not respond. He saw her expressions of sorrow and anguish. And he understood them. He himself was still affected by the things that had happened. In person, he had tried to save Theodor. He had even prioritized his life over putting out the blaze. Perhaps he could have been able to contain the spread of the fire, if he hadn't done so, but instead he had preferred trying to save the man who had sacrificed so much for the country. But Irnfrid knew that. So why did she speak such malicious, untruthful words now?
Hence, he simply replied, “If you really want to believe what you said about me, then we have nothing to say to each other!” And with these words, they went their separate ways.
Volmar von Kosen, Konrad zu Niederstett, Hartmann von Herchtenau. They were all respected warriors, young and, most importantly, from the circles of those who had been instrumental in the Holy Revolution. Not a single one of them was known to the sovereign. He sat opposite Chancellor Peter at a huge, elaborately crafted office table perusing through the documents which Peter had compiled for him. His old school friend was nervously tapping his fingers on the tabletop, eagerly awaiting Wenzel's answer.
“I don't know, if I can agree with any of these suggestions,” he finally announced. “I've never even heard of any of these men. Only one of them I know the father of, but even that one only in passing. I'm really not sure about these people, and I have to be ABSOLUTELY sure about the appointment to such a quintessential post.” At this the head of government made a serious face. “I have picked out the most trustworthy, capable men who come into question. At such short notice, I may not have been able to make them appear here in person, but you can believe me when I say that they are not the sort who would betray us,” he replied, justifying his narrow selection. In response, the emperor said, “How much time have you really spent with these people for you to vouch for them in front of me with these kinds of guarantees? Do you know how they behave in private when no one is looking?”
The chancellor decided it was best not to answer here. That was all Wenzel needed to see his doubts confirmed. As a result, however, his counterpart urgently pleaded with him to change his mind. “What else are we supposed to do? We need a new Supreme Marshal, and it definitely can't be Ulrich! You can't always put people you are intimately acquainted with in important positions. Sometimes you just have to take the word of others and rely on their honour and integrity.” His interlocutor snorted in exasperation and then uttered, “No.” After that, Peter lowered his face into his hands and closed his eyes, disheartened. “What am I supposed to do with you?”, he said.
A little behind them, Balduin sat and listened to the two in total silence. He had nothing to contribute to all this, but also felt that it was not in keeping with his status to interject anything here. But then it happened. There was a knock on the door. It wasn't a normal knock, but a mighty thump. The Chosen One was immediately startled, because he knew this sound. He turned around and invited the person in. As he had already guessed correctly, the ex-commander of the Imperial Guard now entered the room. “Ferenc! What are you doing back here? Haven't you returned to your homeland?”
Without hesitation, the guy with the long, scraggly beard replied, “When I heard what happened to the palace, I thought to myself, ‘Kasharovar can wait.’ I can't leave the empire in a state like this. My conscience would never allow me to do that.” There is no doubt that Wenzel's and Peter's mood instantly brightened. They now saw a solution to their dilemma before them. “You're a lifesaver, you know that, you old hound!”. the emperor joked in a visibly more cheerful manner. “Why is that?”, he naturally had to ask. The Imperial Chancellor answered for his friend, “We are looking for someone who can become the next Supreme Marshal. Unfortunately, Theodor Kuhn passed away from us that unfortunate night.”
Ferenc patted his heart three times. He looked Peter and then Wenzel in the eye. He knew exactly what they were thinking. “If you want me to take on the role, I'd be willing. For the time being.” - “Thank you! The realm still needs someone to give it stability. You are certainly such a person. I will see to it that you do not have to perform this duty for too long. I know what you actually wanted to do,” said Wenzel with relief. “A long-time companion and close friend of Theodor's and someone who is highly respected by the troops. You are certainly beyond reproach as the new Supreme Marshal. No one will have a problem with you,” Peter plainly stated. “Thank you very much! I'll do my best,” the Kashar warrior gave as his reply. So, it was decided. As fate would have it, a perfect solution to His Majesty's problem had been found.
Surrounded by soldiers, workers were clearing away the rubble and other remains of the Melgarion Palace. Silke stood nearby and carefully inspected what they were unearthing. Every single scrap of writing that could somehow be salvaged counted. She had already gotten over her dismay over what had happened. But of course, it was still regrettable. “Be careful with this! I don't want you to ruin anything that might still be salvageable due to your rough handling!”, she cautioned the men, who had been assigned to her.
But then completely unexpectedly, her boss appeared. “Hello! What are you doing here, Your Highness?” Only when he had approached close enough, did she notice how tired and sallow he looked. His assistant knew that this was connected to the events concerning Viktoria. She was one of the few who had been informed about what had actually happened. Wenzel answered her, “I'm sorry that I have entrusted you with such an onerous task. I'm here for my artifacts. Have you recovered all of them yet?” - “Indeed, I have, my lord!”
He let his gaze roam over the ruins and remembered what a magnificent edifice had once stood here. It filled him with melancholy and regret. All the beautiful frescoes, the skywards reaching turrets, which crowned the domes, the breathtaking porticoes and the ornate mosaic floors, all were now destroyed or badly damaged. All the efforts that previous generations had made to create this masterpiece had been for nigh. But at least nothing else in the city had been lost to the flames. Together, they immediately made their way over to a small work shed where she was keeping the enchanted objects. “So, you want to take them back with you to Greifenburg, in order to keep them close at hand?” - “No, not quite,” the mage disputed her conjecture. “I will take them all with me, yes, but I'm actually here because I need the sceptre.” - “To track down your daughter?” - “ Precisely.”
Instantly, he grabbed the object he had just mentioned. He concentrated and pictured Victoria's face. But when he looked at the blue stone in the Holy Artifact, there was no glow. “Excuse me? What's going on here?”, he loudly professed his astonishment. He tried again. Once more, the imperial sceptre didn't seem to be doing anything at all. It didn't show him any direction, even after the third and fourth attempt. The emperor mulled over this peculiarity for a while. In the end, however, he could not figure out why the sceptre was unable to locate the girl.
With the item in his hand, he stepped outside the door. The wizard had come here to find his adoptive daughter. How could he do this despite this unexpected obstacle? The seeker already had an idea. He concentrated again and lo and behold, the jewel of the artifact began to gleam. “Good,” commented Wenzel with a little nervousness in his voice.
Then suddenly he was torn out of his mental isolation. A bunch of people now approached and began making a huge racket. Cries of “Long live the emperor!” and “Hail Melgar!” rang out from the crowd. They sounded joyful, even hopeful. The guardsmen who had accompanied him to this place immediately formed a circle around the Chosen One, so that they could protect him. It seemed as if a large mob would soon be gathering here. “My lord, it would be better if we moved away from here!”, one of his bodyguards advised him. He was right, of course, but the emperor stood still for a while, as if spellbound, and let the cheerful, eager welcome from his people wash over him. It made him happy to see that the people recognized and appreciated his efforts for their welfare. It was all the major construction projects he had ordered in his name in recent years, but also the visits to those who had experienced injustice and oppression, which the people had seen, and which they gave him such great credit for.
Ultimately, however, he wanted to fly off again with his men, as the crowds here seemed to be swelling ever more. Just as he was about to take off, a soldier galloped up on a jet-black stallion. It was a major general with a simple pot cut. “Praise the martyrs!”, he declared after coming to a halt in front of His Majesty. Wenzel briefly thought about what the scion of Theodor had been called, but then he promptly remembered. “Alexander, is it?” - “That's right, Your Highness,” the boy replied.
“I'm about to depart again. What do you need from me, lad?” - “Help you, that's what I want.” This made the ruler listen up. Theodor's son explained himself: “If there is any way I can help you fight the enemies of Ordania, please let me know. I want to avenge my father!” The wizard went up to him and patted him on the shoulder. He then replied to the young man, “You know, I have something you could help me with.” At this, one could see the zeal starting to show on Alexander's face.