The next morning, the castle was a hive of activity, the usual quiet routine of court life replaced by the hurried footsteps of messengers, soldiers, and servants. The news had come just as the sun began to rise over the horizon—a war had been declared. Trouble had been brewing in the East for some time, but now the tension had erupted into full-scale conflict. The Holy Roman Emperor's presence was required on the battlefield.
Wolfram had been eating breakfast when he overheard a group of courtiers speaking in hushed tones. His heart immediately sank, the food on his plate forgotten. He knew what this meant. His grandfather, the man who had raised him, the strongest person he knew, would have to leave. Wolfram wasn't naïve; he knew the risks of war, even for a man as powerful as the Emperor. He had read enough history to know that no amount of armor or soldiers could guarantee safety on a battlefield.
A lump formed in his throat as he rushed through the corridors of the castle, weaving between bustling servants and anxious nobles. He found his grandfather in the war room, standing over a massive map that covered most of the large oak table. Surrounding him were his generals and advisors, all speaking in low, serious tones. The Emperor's face was calm, but his eyes betrayed the weight of responsibility he carried. As Wolfram entered, the old man looked up and gave a small, reassuring smile.
"Wolfram, my boy," the Emperor greeted, motioning for him to come closer. "I see you've heard the news."
Wolfram swallowed hard, nodding as he stepped up to the table. The map was a maze of lines, symbols, and tiny figurines representing the Emperor's forces. His gaze flickered over the vast landscape of the empire, realizing how far his grandfather would have to ride and how uncertain his return would be.
"Is it true, Grandfather? You're going to war?" Wolfram's voice was uncharacteristically small, laced with fear and uncertainty.
The Emperor placed a heavy hand on Wolfram's shoulder, giving it a comforting squeeze. "Yes, it's true. Trouble in the East has escalated, and now we must deal with it. Our enemies have overstepped, and they must be reminded of the strength of the empire."
Wolfram's eyes widened. "But you're leaving… What if… What if something happens to you?"
The question hung in the air, heavy with the weight of a child's deepest fear. The Emperor looked down at his grandson, seeing the worry etched on his young face. Wolfram had always been brave, always inquisitive, but now, for the first time, the boy seemed vulnerable.
The Emperor knelt down, bringing himself eye level with Wolfram. His expression softened, the hardened warrior giving way to the gentle, loving grandfather beneath. "Wolfram," he said quietly, his voice steady and reassuring, "I have ridden into more battles than I can count. I have faced enemies far more dangerous than the ones we'll meet in the East. And I have always returned."
"But what if this time is different?" Wolfram whispered, his voice barely audible. "What if you don't come back?"
The Emperor smiled faintly and shook his head. "My boy, do you know what the greatest weapon a ruler can wield is?"
Wolfram hesitated. "Is it… strategy? Or maybe the army?"
His grandfather's smile widened. "No, Wolfram. It is confidence. Confidence in oneself, and confidence in one's people. You see, fear will eat away at a man's strength faster than any sword or arrow. And I, my boy, am not afraid. I have the greatest minds, the bravest soldiers, and you, the future of our family, waiting for me. That is enough to keep me safe."
Wolfram tried to absorb his grandfather's words, but the knot of fear in his stomach wouldn't loosen. He admired his grandfather more than anyone, but the idea of losing him was unbearable. "But... what if something happens to you on the battlefield?"
The Emperor sighed softly, pulling Wolfram into a gentle embrace. "I promise you, Wolfram, I will return. I have faced worse odds and survived. Besides, it is not my time yet." He pulled back slightly, holding Wolfram's gaze. "And when I return, I will have stories of bravery and victory to tell you. Stories you'll one day tell your own children. Do you understand?"
Wolfram nodded, though the fear still lingered. He didn't have the heart to argue further. His grandfather seemed so sure, so unshakable. Perhaps that's what made him the man he was, the Emperor, the leader of one of the greatest empires in history. Still, Wolfram couldn't shake the feeling that this war might be different—that this time, the risks were greater.
As the conversation ended, a servant entered the room, bowing deeply. "Your Majesty, the vassals have been summoned. The army is gathering as we speak."
The Emperor straightened, his hand still resting on Wolfram's shoulder. "Good," he said firmly. "It's time to remind the world of the strength of the empire."
Wolfram watched in silence as his grandfather issued orders, his voice carrying the weight of authority and experience. The boy stood a little taller, trying to summon the same confidence his grandfather exuded. But even as the preparations for war continued around him, Wolfram couldn't help but feel the heavy burden of fear pressing down on him. Would his grandfather truly return from this war? Or was this the beginning of something Wolfram was not yet ready to face?