Tales of Gandamyr
Gorack's Journal8 - Lessons of a Father
Gorack’s Journal 8: Lessons of a Father
What is the saying about being a king? Heavy is the head that wears the crown. Perhaps I will one day feel that way. There is no doubt that the saying rings with truth, however an ironic calm has come over me ever since I claimed the crown for my own. It is odd that I find myself happy and content as the king of the marches. Even as my late father’s crown rolled down the mountain to rest at my feet I did not want to take the throne.
I was fully opposed to what my father had done and the means in which he had taken the crown. His lust for power had corrupted him completely, and yet he was still my father and I loved him. I loved him because he was my father, but more for all the lessons he taught me. For instance, everyone has an agenda, secrets and the capability to do horrendous things. Or that the line that separates right from wrong gets dangerously thin the closer to power one gets, and crossing that line gets easier when the ends justify the means. The biggest lesson he taught me though was the way I did not want to rule. I do not intend to be a backstabbing, war mongering, conquering king. I hope that since I have seen firsthand what that looks like, I will be able to recognize if I start to cross that thin line.
The love I had for my father was still not enough to make me weep when he was brutally killed by the dragon he had magically taken control of. In fact in that last instant of his life, he taught me one more valuable lesson, those you control by force are never really loyal. Loyalty is only truly earned with respect, and respect goes both ways. So as I watched the dragon turn on his master, the father I loved, I had no sadness in my heart. Nor did I have any joy as the man I also hated was torn apart. There was only quiet numbness.
Then the crown started slowly rolling down the hill. Every rock changing its trajectory in random and unpredictable ways. Time slowed to a crawl for me as I watched it carom down the mountain. Dread started to come over me. I was no king. I did not want to rule. I never wanted power. I was always content leading a simple life with my wife and son. The crown kept rolling. I started to hope one of the rocks would drastically knock it of its current course and end up near someone else, anyone else. But as if by some divine intervention the crown rolled and stopped right at my feet.
All the sudden the dread that had just overtaken me disappeared just as quick as it had consumed me. It started with a simple question. Who else? Who else could take the crown. Who else had the conviction I have to return the marches to peace and prosperity? Who else had the interest of the people’s wellbeing above his own? Who else do I trust to do it? At that moment I knew it had to be me. A confidence grew inside me in an instant, and as soon as the crown sat upon my brow, I knew I had made the first wise decision as King. The lessons I learned from my father assured it would not be the last. At least for now this crown does not seem so heavy.