The return of the fallen king

Chapter 18: Arriving at home

<<''He who wishes to be obeyed must know how to command.''>>

– Niccolo Machiavelli

The tranquility of the morning was interrupted by the cheerful chorus of birds, their melodic chirps filling the air as the sun's golden rays gradually bathed the forest in warm light. It was a natural alarm clock, signaling to all creatures that it was time to embrace the new day. Conradin, the lord of these lands, slowly emerged from the embrace of slumber. He let out a long, satisfying yawn, his muscles sore from the rigors of travel and the tension of the previous day's march.

As Conradin stirred, he became acutely aware of the work he had to accomplish . The day promised to be a significant one, with little room for leisure. He knew he needed to make the most of every moment, and so he roused himself from his makeshift bed and began his morning routine. His attendants, ever vigilant, stood ready to assist him as he washed his face and donned his regal attire.

Once properly attired, Conradin turned his attention to the matters at hand. He beckoned his trusted attendants to summon his retainers for a morning repast. The scent of freshly prepared breakfast wafted through the air as Conradin exited his tent, the forest's beauty serving as a reminder of the majesty he ruled over.

Within a mere ten minutes, his retainers had gathered, forming a semicircle around the grand table where their liege lord took his seat. Conradin settled into the head of the table, his gaze serene as he continued sipping the wine provided by his attentive attendants. His retainers, each with their own distinct roles and responsibilities, engaged in animated conversations, discussing a myriad of topics that piqued their interests.

Despite the camaraderie and casual banter, Conradin knew that there were pressing matters to address before they could all embark on their day's endeavors. He cleared his throat, drawing the attention of those gathered, and began to speak in his authoritative yet approachable manner.

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Conradin's voice resonated with authority as he laid out the tasks for his retainers, each assignment bearing its own weight of importance. His first directive was directed toward Maletta and Galvano, who were to oversee a critical shipment, a responsibility that was not to be taken lightly.

"Today you, together with Galvano, will be assigned to supervise the shipment," he declared, his tone firm but not without a hint of expectation. "I don't think I need to emphasize the significance of Ottokar's loan to us."

Maletta, a capable and diligent retainer, wasted no time in reaffirming her commitment. "Of course, my lord," she responded, her voice unwavering. "I'll make sure nothing is lost or damaged in transportation. We have been entrusted with immense responsibility, which I will take very seriously. You may feel assured that everything will be fine."

In contrast, Galvano, a man of few words, offered a succinct acknowledgment of his duty. "Yes, your majesty," he replied, his loyalty evident in his concise response.

Conradin acknowledged their responses with a satisfied glance, recognizing the dedication that flowed through their veins. His gaze then shifted to Corrado, the final member of his trusted council.

"Now for you, Corrado," Conradin continued, his attention unwavering. "I want you to fill up a report on our supplies and make sure that every man is well nourished. After all, we have another five days of marching ahead of us."

Corrado nodded, fully comprehending the importance of his task. "Understood, my lord," he replied, his expression reflecting the determination to fulfill his duty.

With his orders conveyed and understood, Conradin turned his attention to his own needs. He dug into his meal with a voracious appetite, aware that nourishment was vital for the challenging journey ahead. Every bite seemed to infuse him with renewed energy, dispelling the fatigue that had gripped him earlier.

As the last morsel was consumed, Conradin rose from his seat, his voice ringing out with unwavering resolve. "All right, men, get ready; we're going to march again."

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After five days of marching, Conradin and his loyal retainers returned to their castle, their spirits lifted by the 500,000 gold coins they had successfully acquired. These precious coins represented a substantial financial injection for their upcoming campaign in Italy. The days of being an impoverished king without a kingdom were now a distant memory. What remained was to reclaim his blood's birthright and, of course, to assemble a larger army.

As the city and castle came into view, Conradin couldn't help but feel a sense of accomplishment wash over him. The path ahead, once daunting, now appeared more inviting. Pride and optimism surged within him as he contemplated what he would fight for and who he would be fighting alongside.

Before diving into the preparations for the upcoming campaign, Conradin was relieved to see his butler, Gerwin, waiting for him at the castle's entrance. Without delay, he made his way inside, where Gerwin greeted him with a warm smile.

"Welcome home, your highness," Gerwin said, his voice filled with genuine relief. "Nice to see you back. Does it mean the mission was a success?"

Conradin replied with a smile and a nod, his eyes reflecting the satisfaction of a mission accomplished. "Yes, we obtained everything we desired and more; it was a resounding success. Now all that remains is to launch the campaign and pray that God is with us."

Turning his attention to matters within the castle, Conradin inquired, "Now, Gerwin, tell me, did anything noteworthy happen while I was gone?"

Gerwin's expression turned thoughtful as he began to recount the recent developments. "Well, your Highness, if you had returned three days ago, I would have said that nothing of importance had occurred. However, two days ago, an envoy arrived, seeking an audience with you."

Conradin was taken aback, his experience in matters of diplomacy being rather limited. He hesitated to engage with foreign governments without proper guidance.

It was important to him to remember that the discussions from the previous week were meticulously planned, and he knew precisely which cards and chips he could and should play.

"Very well," Conradin responded thoughtfully, "but first, could you please tell me which man this envoy represents, and did you manage to learn anything about the nature of the issue he wishes to discuss?"

Gerwin nodded, his expression reflecting his awareness of the situation. "Yes, your Highness," he replied, offering a knowing glance. "He is a representative of the Genoese Republic, and he has come to discuss the matter of the Sicilian throne. He is currently in residence and awaits an audience with you. I've taken the liberty of ensuring his security in our guest quarters. May I assume that I should permit him entry and treat him as befits a visitor?"

Conradin considered the information, weighing the implications of this unexpected diplomatic encounter. "No," he decided, "send one of our servants to him. Offer the envoy the comfort of our hospitality for the night, and inform him that he will have the opportunity to meet with me tomorrow morning."

"Very well, your majesty," Gerwin acknowledged before promptly departing the hall, ready to carry out his king's instructions and prepare for the forthcoming meeting with the Genoese envoy.