Heavy Lies The Head

When Friedrich saw himself in that mirror, he was not sure what he was looking at. The clean reflection entrapped in that gilded, jewel studded frame his father had left him. He was not sure what everyone had been seeing in him to cheer for him at the ceremony yesterday. He bore the emperor’s crown, yes, but anyone can wear a crown given a fine amount of divine right. Though it was his head that cradled it, it did not feel fit for him, or perhaps he did not feel fit for it.

Sitting himself down properly in the comfort of the decorated chair behind him, he continued with his observation just as he had all morning for some kind of answer, as if his reflection was about to speak to him and answer all of his questions. Naturally, the answers would not come and truth be told, he was not sure why he had been questioning himself in the first place. More times than he could remember, he was granted praise by his mother and family for his growth, and his teachers for how much he had learned. The people of the land themselves had something to be proud of again. Seven long years had passed following the death of his father, the great Emperor Keril. In that time, Friedrich had been pushed physically and mentally through tutors, family, and himself in preparation for his reign so that he may continue to carry the torch his father had left for him

Where once stood a weak, restless, and stubborn boy now stood a robust, cunning, and patient young man. The people were happy to have a true Emperor again after nearly a decade under the regency of his mother. There was a banquet, a tourney, even retellings of his ancestors’ past glories. There should have been no reason for him to feel this uneasy, especially when he had the support and prayers of so many. It was that fact that got under his skin more than the doubt itself.

As the sunlight beamed through his stained glass window, Friedrich began to notice a strange glow coming from the central jewel of the mirror’s ornate frame. A large sapphire, the jewel of the land. When he looked back at himself he began to notice a similar glow coming from another sapphire, this one residing in the center of his crown. It seemed to illuminate in unison with the one in the frame. The more he looked into the glow, the more he felt a sort of spectral presence, as if a hand had been resting on his shoulder. It was then that a subtle knock at his chamber door broke him free of his secluded, almost trance-like state.

“Come in,” said Friedrich, almost relieved by the interruption. A small creaking of the door unveiled his cousin checking in on him. His arrival brought a welcomed smirk to his face. When he shot his eyes back his reflection he noticed that the glow, and with it that feeling had vanished. “Martin, since when have you been a fan of knocking?”

Just then the rest of the door flung open as his cousin strutted in Friedrich’s chamber now assured of his allowance. “I’m not, nor do I plan to be,” he proclaimed loudly whilst he flapped the blue fabric of his cloak from his shoulder. “But I do know the meaning of a closed door after such a night. After all, how can I, a mere mortal, be sure his Imperial Majesty hasn't been cooped up in his chamber all morning because of those fine ladies he courted at the banquet?”

The young emperor’s face reddened as he tried to keep his smile. “I wasn’t courting them. We were just talking,” he explained as he puffed his chest and adjusted his posture in a defensive manner. “Besides...I hardly even know any of them.”

Martin just titled his head. “Oh I’m sure,” he uttered both deeply and sarcastically. He sighed as he leaned against the patterned wall. “And I’m not the greatest sword in the capital...if the tourney is anything to go by.”

That made Friedrich rise from his seat. “Ah yes, it must’ve been quite the challenge dueling those drunken knights,” he fired back.

“There was an advantage. I exploited it.”

“You’ll have none in the ring with me,” Friedrich remarked.

“Can you guarantee that, coz?” Martin asked, staring dead in his eyes as Friedrich returned the favor. Both of their eyes widened intensely and unblinking until Fred pinched his lips together and cocked his eyebrow, causing them both to break into a short burst of laughter. “I was worried that the crown would weigh down your sense of humor. Clearly I have been mistaken.”

Still caught in his laugh, Friedrich pointed his finger. “You are a fool to underestimate the power of your liege!” he exclaimed in a comically deep tone as if to impersonate someone. “For that I shall have you whipped through the streets! Mark my words!” he continued, trying to keep himself from laughing.

Together they left Fred’s chamber and clumsily bumped into the Imperial Sorcerer Volthazar as he passed, causing him to drop all the scrolls and books he had sheltered in his arm. The two immediately stopped in their tracks as he just stood in place over the fallen texts. He glared over at the two, who even from a few feet away with his anger concealed by the passive expression on his gilded mask, could feel his blood coming to a boil.

“What are you two doing ramming into me like that?” he howled, fuming as he scrambled to collect the books and scrolls. “These texts are far, far older than your entire family line! I would expect such aimless behavior from children!” His echoed voice dripped with disappointment in the two young men.

Friedrich then stepped forward to take the blame as he helped him recover the works. “I...I’m sorry, your Grace.”

Once all the texts had been gathered again, Volthazar took a gander to the Emperor’s crown as the central jewel began to illuminate as it did before. He moved his eyes back to meet his after a second of analysis. “You still have much to learn,” he said. “Your father was the same way. No understanding of the arcane and its importance. That was all left to me.”

“At least he didn’t rob you of your job…” Martin remarked before immediately bowing his head after receiving a kind of death glare from the Sorcerer, who then turned back to Fred.

“You’ll learn of it yet, child. Now be off.”

The pair of nobles politely walked away without another glance or remark while Volthazar watched, veering his attention to the Emperor’s chamber as he noticed a strange glow.

Once the distance between them was far enough, Friedrich repeated those last words as his eyes dotted toward the floor, half to himself and half to his cousin. “You’ll learn of it yet, child…” Martin looked over and lightly jabbed Fred’s side with his elbow.

“Don’t let him get to you. As old as he is, everyone else is a child.” His remark made him smile for a moment before he reverted back to looking at the ground.

“No, Martin, he’s right. I’m still just a child. No crown will change that,” he replied, crestfallen. “You should be Emperor instead.”

Martin shook his head as their conversation guided them to the training grounds just down the elegant stairway. “Me? No, no. I could do without the political babble, thank you. Besides, it’s not my crown to wear.”

“Then whose is it?” Friedrich asked, spanning his arms out, ready to embrace an answer like he would a loved one. “It just doesn’t fit me.”

“That sounds like a job for a blacksmith then. Have you thought about getting it refitted?”

Another laugh broke free from Friedrich as they finished the stairway to the courtyard. “You know what I mean.” The warm breeze of the courtyard pressed against their clothes and the fabric of their cloaks drifted along with it. The feeling refreshed them as the sun beamed down on the Imperial Castle.

“Oh I know you know. Just sounds to me like I’ll have to beat some sense into you in the ring then,” Martin said as he struck Fred’s arm. They approached the weapon rack where a dozen or so wooden replicas of swords, shields, axes, maces, and halberds stood, organized neatly in rows and ready for use. Friedrich readied his unspoken favorite: a wooden longsword with several knicks and dents from his constant use. The smoothness of the hickory told a story of fine carpentry, years of experience, and years of love as he twirled it around. Martin almost grabbed a longsword himself before pulling his hand back and resting it on the one wrapped around his belt. “You know, maybe we should try using real steel this time.”

Friedrich shot him a puzzled look. “You sure that’s a good idea?”

The crying of steel rang from his scabbard as Martin pulled out his blade. “But of course. The bruises and splinters from practice swords are great and all but they don’t provide quite as much incentive to not get hit than real steel.”

The Emperor looked down at the sparring sword; a toy in comparison. He looked back at his cousin and gave an accepting smile followed by a nod. “Alright, just be sure not to kill me.”

“Trust me. If I wanna stay out of politics, the last thing I’d do is to smite you.” The tip of his blade pointed directly at Fred’s nose as his arm extended forward in a flamboyant manner.

The wooden weapon was put back in favor of Imperial steel as it too hissed from its scabbard. The two then unfastened their cloaks and placed them on the rack and rushed over the fence toward opposite ends of the sparring ring. After a moment of taking their stances their duel had sparked into action.

Steel met steel as they each evaded one another’s strikes. The sunlight made the steel glimmer in the midst of parries and thrusts. For every thrust and slash Martin prepped, Friedrich always had the appropriate counter on standby. For every counter, Martin always was ready to step out of range before configuring another attack. It was an endless cycle of defense and offense and it flowed like water down a stream. It was as if they had rehearsed this for years the way they each stood deadlocked with the other. Like they had always ended up, their duel became not one of skill, but of attrition. The only difference was the tension of the steel which caused a domino effect. Friedrich noticed his reflexes were quicker, his form was sharper, and his awareness was heightened.

It would take several minutes for an opening to appear and when Martin saw one in his cousin, he delivered a harsh kick to his shins, crumbling his form and with little effort, was knocked to the ground. He extended his hand outward to help his cousin to his feet which Friedrich accepted as if instinctively.

“What was that about me fighting drunken knights?” reminded Martin with that familiar grin plastered on his face. Friedrich never seemed to mind however as like he usually did, Martin opened right back up. “Still, you did manage to do better than any of those debauched fools.”

“You know, as Emperor, I should reward you with a title.”

Martin’s head titled again as his smile remained. “Oh is that so?”

“Of course! Henceforth, you shall be known as the King of back-handed compliments,” said Friedrich as he tapped both Martin’s shoulders with his index finger. Martin just laughed like he always did before patting his cousin on the back before noticing the blue glow coming from his crown. It managed to persist even in the bright day light enough for Martin to take note.

When he pointed it out, it was Fred’s turn to tilt his head. “So you noticed it too? I thought I was just imagining it.” He removed the jewel-encrusted circlet from his head to examine it with him. “What do you think it means?”

“I believe I can offer an elaboration to this enigma,” boomed a familiar voice, startling the young men. They looked over to see Volthazar standing before them tall and proud, the gold of his staff and mask glistening as they bathed in the sun’s rays. “And it involves that old mirror of yours, your majesty.”

“If you know what it means, Sir, then speak.”

“Gladly.” With a snap of his fingers, the three found themselves back in the Emperor’s chamber to be met with the glowing mirror yet again. “As you can see, the mirror and your crown are linked.”

“Next you’ll be telling me the sky is blue.”

Volthazar struck the back of his head. “I wasn’t finished,” he began. “The reason for this is due to them both being bonded by the same soul.”

Suddenly, that spectral spirit returned to Friedrich. “Soul?”

“Yes. There is a spirit bound to these objects. I have seen it many times before. It would seem that they are trying to grant a message of some sort.” He pointed his staff at the reflection. “Bind yourself to it.”

Friedrich heeded the Sage’s order and stepped towards himself. Each movement enriched that ghostly sensation, all culminating in the emergence of a spirit from the mirror. It dashed through the Emperor, disorienting him before revealing itself to be none other than Keril, his father. Volthazar immediately kneeled before the royal phantom as soon as he recognized it, followed by Martin while Friedrich simply stood there, dumbfounded at the sight.

“F-father?” he whispered, frozen in place.

“My son. There came a day before my passing where I visited a seer,” he began with a voice which rang like thunder. “Through her, I learned I would never see you grow into the man I imagined you’d become. For the next months, I pursued the arcane to trap my spirit in your eventual crown and my own mirror, so that I may see you grow every day you saw yourself. I was not disappointed. Every day was a blessing.” Fred’s eyes widened at his words. Those he had heard a hundred times before from others were beginning to resonate with him. They began to sink in further than they ever had. “But for every one of those days, I saw something eating at you like a parasite. You doubted yourself, yet you pushed through, and when Volthazar crowned you Emperor, I felt as if the torch had been passed. So much energy had been put into seeing you, and now that it has I can go freely.” His hands, though spectral, grasped his shoulders as they did when they were fleshbound.

His son’s amazement turned to sadness as he collapsed to his knees, tears running down his cheek. “Father...I can’t let you go. There is so much more for you to teach me...so much wisdom.”

Keril wiped the tears off his face. “You know I can’t stay. You may not realize it but I have nothing to teach you as I saw you learn it all yourself through your trials. Rule wisely and well, and I trust you can carry the torch yourself for your son and his son after him. Do it for everyone who has brought you here. Have pride in yourself, my boy. I love you.” With those words, Keril embraced him with open arms one last time.

There was more for Friedrich to say, but Keril’s spirit vanished before he could utter another word. With his father’s ghost, his doubt too faded away. The sapphires in both the crown and the mirror had shattered, allowing Keril’s spirit safe passage towards where he hoped he would find him yet again.

When he stood up, he stood taller, bolder, a weight lifted from his already heavy head. It was as if a part of his father’s spirit took refuge in him the way he suddenly changed. Martin and Volthazar rose to their feet, both of them curious as to what would happen next as they stood before from what they could. tell was a new emperor.

"What happens now, Lord Sorcerer?" Martin asked, hoping the master of the unorthodox would have a worthwhile answer. He would have began if not for Friedrich's interruption.

"Now, my reign begins," the Emperor answered with a bright and enlightened smile.