TO RISE WHERE ONE HAS FALLEN

[GMRO 5245]

Spoiler

 

 

TO RISE WHERE ONE HAS FALLEN

 

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Splish… Splish.. Splish…

 

The shallow water of Lake Voron quietly shivered as flat stones bounced along its surface before enveloping them beneath cold, slow waves. A Prince stood alone at the shore, eyes surveying out over the rows of mountains crowned with ice. The behemoths of nature which stood watch over their natural kingdom of the Attenlund. They stood vigil over the man, an insignificant visitor in their rocky kingdom that would last a thousand years more. Despite the Haeseni spring thawing the blankets of snow that covered the kings of stone, they persisted. Here was a good place of respite to think under the watchful gaze of giants.

 

The king was dead. Long live the King. 

 

Those words which echoed through the breeze that had proved to be ones of equal jubilation and melancholy. His father, Sigismund III, was dead. It was no surprise. The man had always known to hear the words one day, and he had known those days were fast approaching as he saw his father wilt day by day through coughing fits and weakening strength. It was still surreal, nevertheless. It was sad, he had to feel sad. He was supposed to feel heartbroken, and yet he was not. He could not force himself to feel anything overtly so. The king was dead, but his father, for all the attempts of the king to play him, was long gone. Mostly, anyway. 

 

You must be ready to bear the weight of the Crown.

 

You can not make a mistake. It can cost you everything.

 

The lessons had come fast for Karl as a boy from when he could walk all the way through to his teenage years. It was a necessity for his father, he understood. Everything had almost been lost before his father due to overindulgence, excess and cruelty. The lessons were necessary to prevent calamity and loss. In response to the dangers of the past, Sigismund III was created and fashioned against the rot to revive the kingdom. He had done so, the kingdom was thriving. Was it now a necessity for Karl Sigmar to similarly be destroyed, and Karl III constructed? 

 

Are you afraid, Karl? Or merely insisting you are not?

 

The words of his bedridden father hours before followed him. Was he afraid? He had said no at the time, but now as he did truly stand upon the precipice: he was. Did he really have to kill the previous man he was, and be remade into something else? Did all who similarly stood upon the cliff-face think the same? The need to expunge all weakness from oneself? Did he truly want that? The whole thing sounded rather difficult.

 

Splish… Splish.. Plop.

 

Know I will be watching, and niet as a king. I will niet look for your strength, or your glory. I will look for your happiness, that which I could never have in life.

 

There was another way. It was elusive to his father, and so he had deconstructed himself yet now upon his deathbed, he had seen his father return from a long hiatus. The way forward to have a kingship and life worth living was not to attribute such weight to the crown, because it would inevitably crush you. It was to search for happiness within it. His father had been stained with duty that overburdened him to straining, but there was more to life than simply that. It had only taken his father’s life to impart the lesson properly.

 

When you lie on your deathbed, wherever it may be, it is not the glory of Eastfleet I think of, or the strength of the nation. It is not vanquished enemies or land. Not a proud army, or Knights. It is your mother and your siblings. Those I called friends, those whose lives I helped change, and they returned in kind.

 

Karl had been afraid not because of necessarily the responsibility of the crown, but in comparing himself to those that came before. He understood his father a tough act to follow, and the worry had briefly consumed him before the realization of the truth offered by his father. Happiness did not come from the achievements made, the battles won, but the friends aided and the family created.

 

His senses returned to him as he found himself once more by the lake, a billow of wind rolling over the lake to meet him. He tugged at the furs laid upon his shoulders to avoid the cold. Those same mountains had seen all, their faces of stone and snow ever so slightly contorting as the sun ebbed out of the sky to call forward the cold once more. 

 

The man knew then his position, and what he sought. To be worthy of his position, but have a little fun. He would not forget his duties, for they were a necessity. Yet he would also not forget how to smile, nor how to live. He gave a final glance to the mountains of old and grinned, whistling a tune as he returned to begin his reign.

 

Spoiler

 

 

[Herod 802]

Kaustantin eyes the Young King afar from his farm near Lake Voron, after rubbing his chin for a good minute, the elderly man smiled.

”No matter how hard the destiny is to accept, the people you spend it with makes it all the better.” He spoke to himself, but hoped the young King would hear his words too, he prayed he did.

[tcs_tonsils_ 2829]

Iulius Vernhart waited and watched. The young man who he had tutored all those years ago was finally to take his place as the king. Deep down he wondered if any of his lessons were worth the hours of lesson planning and scheduling. He waited and watched. 

[Tulan 443]

"There better be a coronation soon." Sigmar Baruch smiled briefly before signing the cross in memory of the late King.

[ThanksChris 589]

Matyas mourned two men that day. He mourned his Koeng, the only he had ever known. And he mourned his friend Karl Sigmar, who he worried he would never truly see again.

 

The Hauchprinzen with whom Matyas had carried out his oath hunt all those years ago would never emerge from the red brick of the Nikirala which towered over the square. In his place would be Karl III. A friend still, and a just and capable leader he was certain. Something would be lost however under all the weight of expectation, all the burden of duty. It is he that truly requires our prayers now.

Edited May 21, 2022 by Chris (Acaele)

[Dyl 1564]

R

[Capt_Chief26 1205]

Ser Reinhardt kneels to his new liege lord, still saddened by the passing of his old friend

[Buffsanta 960]

Hieran dips his head with new respect for the appointed King of Haense. It had been a while since he'd been at a monarchs crowning,

[xMuted 2459]

Sebastian Bishop saluted the new king as he left a smile upon the last. "Du better give me some enemies to slay Koeng, ich am looking forward to it." He grinned upon his comment.