𝕶ö𝖓𝖎𝖌 - 𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝕷𝖔𝖓𝖊𝖑𝖞 𝕽𝖚𝖑𝖊𝖗

The boundless realm lay writhing in agonies — it was corroded by inner strife, weakened by pestilence, starved by calamities, ravished by foe and betrayed by ally. Yet it was but land, and land was deathless, whilst its denizens suffered and perished. Upon König’s childish brow a crown was set in haste, straight after the funerary rites for the king slain by a traitor’s hand. Scarcely had König known a childhood, and after the ceremony it ended entirely. He toiled without respite in the study of tongues, the soldier’s craft, and the sciences, whilst the realm continued its ruin under the regent — König’s godfather.

König was offered as sacrifice, that he might be wrought into the perfect sovereign. The kingdom lay stretched from the salt-cold sea to the mountain chains beyond which the armies of hostile principalities gathered. The finest magical academy on the continent, countless peoples beneath the protection and rule of a ruthless army and an elite flotilla. Had König wished, he might long ago have yielded to the honeyed persuasions of his counsellors and donned the imperial diadem. Power corrupteth, and were he to grant himself leave to proclaim himself emperor, the righteous life would become an eternal agony. At least whilst the archmage loyal to the ruler kept death at bay from König.

The strangest thing about him was the lack of foul rumours. Courtly gossip found no soil in which its nastiness might take root. Yet the people did not despair — there was an abundance of other subjects for discourse and the most peculiar tales. The loudest of these at times reached the king himself, who watched from the summit of his authority the vanity of vanities, ever immersed in his Sisyphean labour.

König cared not for gifts and accepted none — all his decisions were rendered soberly and impartially. All — from foes to counsellors — were meant to witness it. That evening proved an exception.

The solitary sovereign sat upon his throne. The vast hall was the most fitting vessel in which to release all the dark thoughts in his vulnerable human mind. To let their voices slip outwards and behold them all at once. In the dim, almost cavernous light, the giant of a man in his red mantle felt secure. He seemed hidden, even though he sat upon a high throne. The scent of incense lingered solely because it soothed him. The crushing burden of millions of lives would leave little living within him ere long.

König had not wished to admit the odd fellow into his palace. Likely his head ached so fiercely that he failed to notice how his own lips commanded that the stranger be let in. The heavy doors swung wide. Little wheels, with an ominous drone, travelled along rails carved into the stone floorboards, framed with iron and well-greased with resin and tallow. The master-sorcerer was a small bearded elder with curly hair; he dragged a great wheeled cabinet with his thin hand. Yet even in this hall, which made any man feel a speck, that old man with the cunning grin seemed to König strangely vast. Perhaps König merely sensed it because of the elder’s uncanny magnetism. The sorcerer bowed; König bade him rise.

“My liege…”

“To the matter at once. What lies in thy cabinet?” The king was tormented by migraine and could not abide flattery nor needless invocations of his power.

Silently the elder opened the cabinet doors. Upon a wooden stand hung a body in an expensive gown, so doll-like and absurd that König inwardly gasped twice — first, was this truly a living person, and second, how could one be clad in such fashion? The master noticed the king’s discomposure at once.

“It doth resemble a living person, I comprehend. I found this body bereft of life. And forthwith I desired to bestow upon it a new one.” With these words he removed the glove from the doll’s hand and rolled up its sleeve, revealing joints in the arm, the wrist, and the finger-phalanges. Having given his explanation, he swiftly released the doll and unfolded a chair upon which he set its light form.

“No knowledge of magic is required of thee, Your Highness. Merely ring the little bell.”

The sorcerer swung a bell no larger than an apple. A pure chime, thin as the echo of a silver spoon upon crystal, pierced the air. The sound seized the rhythm of the doll’s heart and compelled it to beat. Thud thud thud.

“How much dost thou ask?”

“I would never demand coin from a child who cannot afford toys.”

A cacophony of metallic clamour filled the hall — how dared this madman call the king a child? Yet from the threat remained only an echo high beneath the vaults. The giant in the crown lowered his hand, and the guards obeyed.

“Then I shall name the price myself. Servants, bear the gift to the eastern chambers, and grant our guest a night’s lodging. At dawn present him with a potato sack filled with gold.”

And so it came to pass. The merchant hid his doll back into the wheeled cabinet — much like a hybrid of coffin and great trinket-box — and concealed the bell within the same painted chest.