Ten years had passed since that stormy night when Wolfram came screaming into the world. In the decade that followed, the castle had been filled with the sound of his laughter, his shouts, and, more often than not, the exasperated sighs of the servants tasked with watching over him. Wolfram was no ordinary child. He was restless, filled with an unquenchable energy that kept him constantly on the move. Whether he was climbing trees in the courtyard, sneaking off to the stables to ride horses unsupervised, or exploring hidden passages within the castle walls, Wolfram never seemed to sit still.
His wild nature wasn't just physical; it extended to his mind as well. From an early age, Wolfram showed an unusual intelligence that caught the attention of everyone around him. While most children his age were still mastering basic reading and writing, Wolfram was devouring books on history, military strategy, and ancient philosophy. He could recall dates and events with startling accuracy, and his mind was constantly at work, piecing together the knowledge he absorbed like a puzzle.
This intelligence was both a blessing and a curse. Wolfram's tutors marveled at his ability to grasp complex ideas and solve problems far beyond his years, but they also struggled to contain his curiosity. He had a tendency to question everything, never satisfied with simple answers. His grandfather, the Holy Roman Emperor, saw this trait as both a sign of brilliance and a potential problem. Yet, deep down, the Emperor took great pride in Wolfram's sharp mind.
One evening, as the sun set and cast a golden light over the castle, the Emperor summoned Wolfram to his chambers. The room was filled with relics from a lifetime of conquest—ancient maps, swords from fallen enemies, and tapestries that told stories of the empire's victories. Wolfram entered with his usual boundless energy, but something in his grandfather's eyes made him pause. The old man motioned for him to sit beside him at the large wooden table in the center of the room.
"You've been causing quite the stir among your tutors," the Emperor began, his voice calm but tinged with amusement.
Wolfram looked up, his eyes wide with curiosity. "I didn't mean to cause trouble, Grandfather. It's just that...they never give me the answers I'm looking for."
The Emperor chuckled, the sound deep and rich. "And what answers do you seek, my boy?"
Wolfram hesitated, unsure of how to put his thoughts into words. "I want to know why we do the things we do. Why do we fight wars? Why do kingdoms rise and fall? I read about battles and treaties, but they all seem so...pointless sometimes. Why do we never learn from the mistakes of the past?"
The Emperor studied Wolfram's face, his gaze sharp but filled with a rare tenderness. He had raised many children, but none quite like Wolfram. This boy, with his wild nature and insatiable curiosity, was unlike anyone he had ever known. And yet, in Wolfram, the Emperor saw a reflection of his own younger self—a mind hungry for knowledge, unafraid to challenge the world.
"You're asking questions that many grown men never dare to ask," the Emperor said slowly. "And that's what makes you different. Most people are content to follow the path laid before them, to accept the way things are without question. But you—" he smiled, pride swelling in his chest "—you see the world differently. You see the possibilities, the flaws in our systems, the endless questions that no one else thinks to ask. That is your greatest strength."
Wolfram sat quietly, absorbing his grandfather's words. The Emperor rarely spoke like this, and it was clear that this conversation was meant to teach him something important.
"You remind me of your mother," the Emperor continued, his voice softening as he mentioned his late daughter. "She was wild too, never satisfied with the ordinary. But where she had fire, you have...something else. A sharpness. A mind that could shape the future, if you learn to harness it."
Wolfram looked down at the table, the weight of his grandfather's expectations pressing down on him. "But I don't know if I want to shape the future," he admitted. "Sometimes I just want to understand it."
The Emperor nodded, his expression thoughtful. "Understanding the world is the first step to changing it, my boy. Never forget that. Your mind is your greatest weapon, and it will serve you well in the years to come. But remember—strength of mind must be tempered with discipline. A wild mind, like a wild horse, is useless if it cannot be controlled."
Wolfram met his grandfather's gaze, feeling both reassured and challenged by his words. He understood now that his grandfather saw something in him, something that went beyond his status as the Emperor's grandson. His grandfather believed in his potential, but it was up to Wolfram to decide how to use it.
As Wolfram left the chamber that evening, the weight of his legacy seemed to settle more heavily on his shoulders. He wasn't just a wild child, running through the castle with reckless abandon. He was something more—something greater. And deep down, he knew that his journey was only just beginning.