Heavy is the Head that Wears the Solemn Crown

Three - The Duality of a Life

Wilbur

He doesn't remember much from his childhood. It wasn't like he had issues with his memories, but it was more like all of those moments had occurred a lifetime ago. He remembered running down the hallways of the castle, his personal maid chasing after him with her skirt bunched up in her fists to keep from tripping. He remembered sitting in his father's lap as they sat on the balcony, wrapped up in a thick blanket as they watched the stars twinkle far above them. One of the few memories he had of his mother was her sitting at the bench of a grand piano, her voice rising into the large room as she told the tale of a brave hero's adventuring. He also remembered seeing a jealous sorceress curse his mother, and he had been the one to watch her turn into solid ice that could never melt. He had watched as his father agonized over finding a cure to the point that he drove himself mad, throwing himself off the balcony that he once sat with his son on. He remembered watching the maid that had cared for him his entire life retire, leaving him alone with the other servants who respected him but could never like him. His clearest memory from his youth was the one where it all ended. He had sat before all the nobility in the kingdom, wearing his finest suit with a heavy red coat hanging off one shoulder. He held a golden scepter in one hand and a silver medallion of his kingdom's emblem in the other. A crown had been placed upon his head as he swore a solemn oath to protect his kingdom and follow their unified ideals until the day that he passed that right onto his heir. He had been fifteen when he made that promise. He is twenty-one years old now.

It came as no surprise that there would be resistance. The imperialists would support him to the best of their ability, but even they had doubts about giving the power of the kingdom to a child. The noble faction would frequently challenge his authority. He had done a good job of keeping them at bay. His policies had improved the kingdom, and he had led the people through six years that steadily got better. The commoners were prospering, and the nobleman didn't have a good reason to complain. The problem came with the duke of the Schlatt bloodline. Jay was his given name, but he went by his noble family name as a power move. No matter what the man did, the King and the duke were constantly at odds with one another. Schlatt wanted power. He wanted to be king, and he had enough flattering words to become at the top of the anti-imperialists. They rallied around Schlatt becoming the king. Even as the sworn king gave his people every reason to follow him instead of the corrupted politician, he wasn't able to reach the hearts of everyone. He lost many good men as they sided with Schlatt. In the end, the king was nearly cast out from his nation, and he was forced to exile Schlatt under the pretense of treason. This further strengthened Schlatt's claim to the throne. Before the real king could react, his land had been split along the middle between the loyalists and separatists... Pogtopia against Manberg.

He gathered every one of the people that still followed him under the banner of their old nation. They made a fortress in the canyons, using the landscape as a natural fortress to protect them. He did his best to keep spirits high as they prepared for each battle. He worked alongside his soldiers. He may not have been the best with weaponry, but he had a gift from the gods themselves. His voice was stolen from a siren, crafted from the elements, and given dominion over the mind. With a few words, reality would bend to follow his commands. He didn't have the best control over it. He was never allowed to test his limits, and with what happened with his mother, he had developed rhabdophobia. He pushed away all his fears in order to use his voice to inspire his troops, heal the people that he could, and invoke panic in the enemy. It wasn't easy, but he did his best. Unlike the megalomaniac Schlatt, Wilbur tried to act on behalf of the citizens he swore to govern with his dying breath. He would not let someone of the likes of the former duke to become the supreme leader over L'Manberg.

It was around this time that his trump card arrived onto the scene. As much as it pained him to recall, his mother had been part of his life a long time ago. She had many friends, some from other kingdoms, who would visit the castle to tell her about all that she was missing because she settled down. She had laughed at them, her eyes twinkling as she did. She had held her son in her lap as she sipped tea, talking about people and places he could almost see with how his mother talked about them. He remembered one of her friends. He looked like a middle aged man with dirty blonde hair and eyes that radiated the color of the sky. He had brilliant, raven colored wings that folded against his back as he spoke with his old friend. This was one of the few people who was more genuine with his mother, instead of being vaguely flirty or telling her off for the life she chose. The two still joked, but it was much more lighthearted. His mother had told him to see the man should he ever find himself in a spot of trouble. The man found him, instead, once he heard of the plot against the throne. He offered condolences, and pledged his services as the angel of death to the side of Pogtopia. He welcomed his mother's old friend warmly, finding a semblance of comfort in the man's reassuring presence.

He wrote many letters before the first battle even began. He spent the whole night by candlelight in his tent to craft the perfect sentences on paper. He needed to give the other countries a reason to support him instead of Schlatt. Manberg had already gathered the sympathy of Greater and the Badlands. With the three country's alliance, Pogtopia stood no chance by itself. He was going to need all the help he could get, and he knew that those countries wouldn't risk their skins unless they truly believed he was the right person to lead his kingdom. He sent a letter to the empire in the north, who prospered in a barren tundra under a theocracy praising the Blood gods. He sent a letter to the collection of villages in the south that banded together under oppression to gain their freedom. He contacted the seafarers who braved the raging ocean. He even asked the Kinoko Kingdom, and the small kingdom of Bear to aid in his struggle. He had sent the letters out right before he rode onto the battlefield with a lyre in his hands that amplified his ability to change the tide of war. When he returned to his tent, he was met with rejection letters. The reasons he was denied assistance were fair, but it made the situation hopeless as he imagined braving the three kingdom alliance on his own.

One of his servants ran in with a letter in hand. The one country that hadn't responded was the Antarctic Empire. He feared that they would deny him, as well, but he was told that the army was mobilizing to march towards him. They would send their strongest to the frontline, and keep the rest to attack Greater from the side, hopefully conquering some lands for themselves as they went across the mountains. With the empire dividing Greater's forces between them and Pogtopia, the war started to look like it might end without a shattered nation. The Badlands would continue to be a problem, especially without the aid of Business Bay or Oceania, but they would survive against the magic users of the south. He was beginning to have hope for the future...

Until he was sent a letter that Oceania was mobilizing to join forces with Manberg. He realized that they would try to conquer Business Bay as they went. If Business Bay couldn't defend against the oceanic kingdom, Pogtopia would be suffering a grave defeat.