The Turn of an Era
January 1, 1500"Halt! We are under orders to let none inside the chambers," proclaimed a palace guard that stood before a set of heavy oaken doors.
Henrik's mother let go of his hand and stormed towards the man. "As your Empress, I command you to open the door!"
She looked at him with a fiery gaze. Out of respect he averted his eyes and looked down; nonetheless, he did not move to open the door. "Your command does not supersede his, Your Majesty."
What ensued was something of a standoff. The young prince thought he could faintly hear the words of his father and the war council drifting through the door.
"...a waste of resources, too much manpower already thrown away for those worthless lands...""It is too late to back down. If...refuse to send reinforcements...prolonged campaign will cost us even mor-""Enough! This talk has gone full circle; I will hear nothing more. Send another two regiments to the eastern front," boomed the familiar voice of the Imperator. Seemingly ever serious and contemplative, the stern Wladyslaw III was nonetheless not known to be a quiet man in those occasions that he did see fit to speak.
A few moments later there came a knock from inside. At once the guard stepped aside to stand at attention as the wooden door was pushed open. The ruler of the Commonwealth strode out of the room with a foul look upon his face, the High Command still gathering their things before they left.
When he encountered his wife and son waiting just on the other side of the door, his face softened ever so slightly. On another day he might have reminded them of their place and explained that the War Council was not for empresses and young princes, but now he was not in the mood for another confrontation.
It had already been quite the birthday for him. The day was not even half over and the celebrations had yet to begin, but already he felt weary from the burdens of leadership. But he was never one to complain or shirk from his duties; with every breath he strove to be a living reflection of Lindos' diligence.
So it was a welcome respite to walk down the grand halls alongside his family and enjoy what time he could spare for them. They gave him the pleasantries and wishes of a happy birthday, but then Henrik found himself distracted. Alongside one of the walls there was a line of great tapestries. The pictures seemed to come to life with a thousand colors, no small thing considering the rarity and cost of some dyes. Golden threads bordered them, and every weave was masterful. They told a story as one walked down the hall and looked at the pictures.
The prince gazed in wonder at the pictures just as he always had. "What does that one show?" Henrik asked for what might have been the tenth time.
A soft and small smile eased itself onto the Imperator's chiseled face. "It shows King Wladyslaw I, our ancestor whose name I share. He ruled our traditional lands, in the far north. His reign came before the Commonwealth came to be, back when we had only a kingdom...They say that he loved every tree, bird, and blade of grass in all his lands, and that he fought with all his strength to protect his people. That was why he was a great and beloved king."
Just next to the tapestry that showed the king as a smiling and gentle man, there was another depiction that cast him in a different light. He was armored and brandishing a sword, standing triumphantly on a bloody battlefield. Though he had started no wars, Wladyslaw I had never hesitated to conquer and utterly destroy those that threatened his realm. His small kingdom of Polesia had managed to expand its borders even under such a peaceful and kind ruler. Polesia had always expanded its borders, and the Commonwealth, as Polesia's successor state, had seemed to inherit that same tendency.
They walked on, at a pace slow enough for the Imperator to tell the short story of each picture to Henrik as they passed it by.
"...and here you see your great grandfather, a brilliant strategist and great man. The Holy Moravian Empire grew decadent and strayed from Lindos' teachings, so he toppled it. That next banner shows what came afterward: those princes and electors that took his side were allowed to keep their holdings and serfs, but those that had defied him were stripped of all titles and had their serfs freed," he explained to Henrik as the boy continued to look on in wonder.
Finally, he finished, "There is my father as a youth. He is accepting the surrender of the last Sultan of Al-Arabus..."
When his father finally finished, Henrik asked, "But what will your tapestry say when they add it to the end?"
The Imperator froze then, something that he was not wont to do. He was of middling age, and thus far his accomplishments had included little. Would the subjugation of those savage lands in the east be his greatest accomplishment? He didn't even lead the war effort, having entrusted that to his heir and oldest son; the triumph wouldn't even be his, and even if it were, what was grand about bringing civilization to some backwards and savage tribes in the burning veldtlands?
"That is not a kind question! He isn't going to die and have a tapestry added anytime soon. Come now, your tutor will be looking for you..." his mother began.
"I didn't mean that I thought he would die soon!" Henrik objected.
The Imperator regained his composure and looked towards them. His wife and son both stood still, and then he answered them, "They will say that I was a just king, and that my reign saw the Commonwealth expands its borders and reach greater heights than ever before."
He forced a small smile, and then left them to return to his war council before they all dispersed. Upon his mind was one thing: Albion.
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