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Chapter 4 - The Weight of Responsibility

With his grandfather riding east to face war, the castle seemed emptier than ever before. Wolfram felt the absence deeply, as though the great weight of his grandfather's presence had been suddenly lifted, leaving behind a void that no one else could fill. The usual hum of court life continued, but for Wolfram, it all felt quieter, slower, less significant. His grandfather was at war, facing unknown dangers, and with him gone, Wolfram found himself in an unfamiliar position. He was still young, barely ten, but the absence of the Emperor made him realize just how much responsibility had fallen onto his own shoulders.

In the days that followed, Wolfram spent his time not in play, but in the council chambers, listening intently to the advisors and generals who remained behind. Though his age and inexperience excluded him from making decisions, no one could ignore his presence. After all, he was the Emperor's heir, the future of the dynasty, and everyone knew it. They spoke carefully in front of him, but Wolfram wasn't a fool. He could sense the tension in the air, the uncertainty about the war in the east. Every whispered conversation, every exchanged glance, told him that things weren't as certain as his grandfather had made them seem.

He took it upon himself to learn. If his grandfather could be away, leading armies and ensuring the stability of the empire, Wolfram reasoned that he, too, had a role to play. There were lessons to be learned here, in the very heart of power. He began to attend the council meetings, slipping in quietly and sitting at the edge of the room, where he could watch and listen. The men at the table were old and experienced, each one representing a different facet of the empire's power—military strategy, diplomacy, economics, and more.

At first, they paid him little mind. Wolfram was, after all, just a boy. But as the days passed, they began to realize that the young heir wasn't simply present for formality's sake. He listened, truly listened, his sharp mind absorbing everything. He didn't ask many questions, at least not at first. Instead, he watched how they debated, how they weighed different courses of action, how they juggled the needs of the empire with the harsh realities of war.

One of the key figures Wolfram observed was Lord Adelbert, a seasoned diplomat who had served the Emperor for many years. Adelbert's silver hair and stern demeanor made him seem distant, but Wolfram quickly learned that he was a master of subtlety. In the meetings, Adelbert rarely raised his voice. He would listen to the others argue and then, with a few well-chosen words, shift the conversation to his advantage. His command over language, his ability to sway others without them even realizing it, fascinated Wolfram.

"Lord Adelbert," Wolfram said one afternoon after a particularly heated council meeting, "how do you always seem to get your way without anyone noticing?"

Adelbert chuckled softly, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "It's not about getting my way, young prince. It's about making others believe that what I want is also what they want. Diplomacy, young Wolfram, is often about perception. If you can make others believe that your idea is their own, they will fight for it even harder than you will."

Wolfram nodded, filing the lesson away in his mind. He began to understand that power wasn't always about strength or brute force. Sometimes, it was about persuasion, about reading the room, about knowing when to push and when to pull back.

Then there was General Reinhard, an old warhorse of a man who had fought beside Wolfram's grandfather in countless campaigns. Reinhard's body bore the scars of many battles, and his voice had the gravelly rasp of someone who had shouted orders over the din of war for too many years. In council meetings, Reinhard was blunt, often speaking with the confidence of someone who believed that the sword was the answer to most problems.

Wolfram approached him one day after the council had dispersed. "General Reinhard, do you think war is the only way to solve our problems?"

The old general grunted, casting a sideways glance at the boy. "No, lad, but it's the most certain way. You can talk and talk, but when words fail, steel doesn't. Remember that."

Wolfram appreciated the simplicity of Reinhard's perspective, even if it contrasted sharply with Lord Adelbert's more nuanced view. He understood that both approaches had their place, and part of his education, he realized, was learning when to apply which strategy.

As the weeks passed and news from the eastern front trickled in, Wolfram began to feel the weight of responsibility more heavily. His grandfather had always shielded him from the full burden of rulership, but with the Emperor gone, Wolfram found himself thrust into a position where he needed to be more than just a boy. The empire didn't stop for his age or inexperience. The decisions being made in the council rooms were real, affecting thousands of lives across the realm.

Wolfram started spending his evenings in the castle's vast library, poring over old texts and manuscripts, studying the history of wars, treaties, and the rise and fall of empires. He found solace in the written word, seeking to understand the patterns that had shaped the world he was born into. His tutors had taught him well, but now it was his responsibility to teach himself. The more he read, the more he realized that the empire's future—and perhaps his own—was uncertain.

One night, as he sat in the dimly lit library, surrounded by books, Wolfram whispered to himself, "I must be ready. For when he returns… or if he doesn't." It was a sobering thought for a ten-year-old, but Wolfram knew that his childhood had ended the moment his grandfather rode to war. Now, he was more than just the Emperor's grandson. He was the heir to an empire, and it was time to start acting like one.