The return of the fallen king

Chapter 7: Arriving at Prague

<<''Don't depend too much on anyone in this world because even your own shadow leaves you when you are in darkness.''>>

-– Taq? ad-D?n A?mad ibn Taymiyyah

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The sun's early rays cast a gentle warmth over the camp as Conradin stirred from his restless slumber. The previous night had offered him little reprieve, as his worries and uncertainties had kept him awake. With a heavy sigh, he reluctantly pushed himself out of his makeshift bed, his fingers rubbing away the traces of sleep that clung to his eyes and nose.

As Conradin rose, he navigated his way to the entrance of his tent, flipping aside the fabric to step outside. Nature greeted him with its serene beauty — a verdant canopy of lush trees and the melodious symphony of birds just beginning their morning chorus. It was a sight that bestowed a moment of tranquility upon him, a brief respite from the tumultuous challenges that lay ahead.

Drawing comfort from the tranquil scene, Conradin observed his soldiers who were already bustling with activity in preparation for the day's march. Foremost on their minds was the readiness of their horses and equipment. Squires tended to the horses, ensuring they were well-fed and meticulously checking saddles and gear for any signs of wear or disrepair. Supplies were methodically organized, and provisions were meticulously accounted for to guarantee the troops had an ample supply of food and drink for the demanding journey that lay ahead. It was only when everything was confirmed to be in order that the soldiers would be ready to embark on their march.

Among those attending to their duties, Corrado was the first to approach the king. Conradin returned his greeting, and the two engaged in conversation. The exchange marked the beginning of what promised to be a challenging day, but the serenity of the morning, with the sun's gentle rise and the birds' harmonious song, offered a fleeting sense of peace.

Corrado, ever the diligent retainer, swiftly reassured Conradin of the army's preparedness. He had assumed command just moments ago, ensuring that all supply-related matters were in order. Conradin nodded in approval, appreciating Corrado's efficient management.

"Excellent," Conradin responded with a determined expression. "We have a long road ahead of us, and our preparedness is paramount. I trust that you will keep a vigilant eye on our situation, and should any issues arise, do not hesitate to inform me promptly. We cannot afford any distractions on our path forward. Now, let us resume our march, onward!"

With their liege's command, the knights mounted their horses, forming a disciplined line that awaited the signal to advance. The sun, ascending higher in the sky, bathed the scene in its golden radiance as the army took its positions. It was a magnificent sight to behold, a unified force moving as one, their polished armor gleaming in the sunlight. Above them, the banners bearing the emblem of Conradin's House proudly unfurled, billowing in the wind like a symbol of hope.

As the rhythmic sound of hooves filled the air, the army set forth on its journey, leaving behind the serenity of their campsite.

After eight days of arduous marching, Conradin and his army finally caught sight of the formidable Prague Wall on the distant horizon. As the great city drew nearer, his heart quickened its pace within his chest. The anticipation and gravity of what lay ahead filled him with both determination and trepidation.

Conradin knew that he had to maintain an air of composure, even as the pulsating blood in his veins surged with excitement and anxiety. The destiny of his kingdom rested heavily on the success of the upcoming negotiations, and he was prepared to stake everything in this pivotal moment.

Before embarking on this journey, Conradin had taken the precaution of sending a letter to Ottokar II, the King of Bohemia, formally requesting a meeting and recognition of his noble titles, including that of King of Sicily. The anticipation of Ottokar's response had weighed heavily on his mind.

As they approached the gates of Prague, a courier rode out from the city walls, hastening toward Conradin's troops.

"Ave, my liege, Ottokar II K?nigreich B?hmen, Duke of Moravia, Austria, and Carinthia, prince-elector of Imperator Romanorum, Margrave of Carniola, March of Windic, hereby invites your majesty, Conradin K?nigreich of Jerusalem and Duke of Swabia, into his court," the courier conveyed, "offering every treatment reserved for a good guest."

Conradin's keen eye detected the omission of his title as King of Sicily, a matter that Manfredi Maletta, was poised to address. However, Conradin intervened with a gesture of his hand.

"Please, envoy, convey my gratitude to your king and inform him that I graciously accept his generous offer of hospitality."

With this response, the envoy bowed once more and made his way back inside the city, followed by Conradin's escort.

As Conradin passed through the gates of Prague, he couldn't help but survey the city's surroundings. Although he had anticipated a sprawling metropolis, he was taken aback by the sight of houses and structures scattered throughout.

Shaking off these thoughts, Conradin followed the envoy through the city's streets, eventually arriving at the grand royal palace. Inside, he was met by Ottokar II, who had risen from his throne to offer a warm and welcoming greeting.

King Ottokar II was a interesting figure, his commanding presence accentuated by his regal attire. His long, flowing beard cascaded down his chest, a rich black hue that contrasted sharply with his fair complexion. His piercing eyes, framed by bushy eyebrows, held a shrewd intelligence within them, and they surveyed his surroundings with a keen and discerning gaze.

A prominent feature of King Ottokar's face was his crooked nose, which bore a slight imperfection from a past injury. This imperfection only added character to his visage, serving as a testament to his resilience and strength. Despite the crookedness, his nose remained distinguished, as if it were a mark of his kingly stature.

The lines on his face told the story of a ruler who had seen his fair share of trials and tribulations, yet his countenance radiated a regal air that inspired respect and admiration.

"Welcome to my court, King Conradin,I hope your travel was smooth and dangerless" Ottokar extended his hand in friendship, a genial smile gracing his features.

"I appreciate your gracious welcome, King Ottokar," Conradin replied with a faint chuckle, his youthful visage contrasting with Ottokar's seasoned appearance. "The journey has been smooth, but alas, my posterior is somewhat aching from all the riding."

Ottokar, perceptive to Conradin's unspoken desire for rest and the seriousness of the discussions that lay ahead, understood the hint. He decided not to press the matter further.

"I am sorry to hear about your discomfort," Ottokar responded with empathy, his crooked nose giving him an air of approachability. "You must be fatigued from your lengthy journey. Allow me to show you to your guest chamber, where you may rest. Tomorrow, we shall hold a grand banquet in honor of your arrival."

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