The Place Beside Him

Ottokar reached the council chamber as the clerk read that the Emperor had shown a small improvement.

Wierach stood beside the table, one hand resting on the carved back of a chair. The clerk had a clean copy of Master Fleck’s report before him. A dozen men listened. At the far end, Archbishop Hartwig of Ammerau sat with his hands folded over a silver-headed cane.

“His Majesty slept through the night,” the clerk read. “His strength remains weak, but his appetite has improved.”

Ottokar knew how much salt lay beneath the chapel. He had counted the sacks in his mind until the number stopped meaning anything. He also knew Fleck had written those words because Wierach ordered him to.

Wierach looked across the room. “Highness. Stand with me.”

Ottokar took the place beside him. The clerk continued. He read about the Emperor’s pulse and the broth he had taken, then folded the report and waited.

“Send copies to the elector courts,” Wierach said. “The Emperor’s condition is improving. There is no cause for haste.”

Hartwig shifted his cane between his knees. “There is always cause for haste when seven men must choose one.”

“Not while His Majesty lives.”

“His Majesty has not received me.”

“He is resting.”

“I was told that yesterday.” Hartwig’s voice was mild, but he had come to Selbrun expecting to be heard. “And the day before.”

Wierach’s hand stayed on the chair. “The Emperor’s physicians will decide when he can receive visitors.”

Hartwig glanced at the report. “Then I will wait for the physicians.”

The room held its quiet. Ottokar watched a clerk turn the report so its seal faced outward. The wax bore the privy mark. It made the page official. It did not make it true.

Wierach addressed the assembled men. “Until His Majesty recovers, matters of state will proceed through the Arch-Steward’s office. The treasury will meet its obligations. The roads will be kept. No one is to gather troops without leave from the Crown.”

A lord near the window asked whether that order applied to the western companies. Wierach said it applied to everyone. The lord did not ask who would enforce it.

Hartwig leaned forward. “And the succession?”

“The Emperor’s heir is Prince Ottokar.”

“I thought the Emperor’s son was Prince Lambert.”

Ottokar kept his hands at his sides. He had heard the names spoken in lessons, but not like this, as if each boy were a claim laid on the table.