The Emperor’s New Robes
Through might and magic, the Kingdom of Lothar had stood firm against orcish invasions for countless generations. But now they were losing.
Orc raiding parties ravaged Lothar’s subjects, mutilating their flesh and bending their bones into unspeakable altars of terror. The fell creatures’ presence cursed the soil. Hundreds of acres of once verdant farmland had been corrupted into brown, cracked ash incapable of growing food. King Uther had beaten the plows into swords and pressed countless civilians into service, and his Kingdom abandoned many once prosperous villages and retreated to motte and bailey castles. Every growing season, more land fell, food grew scarcer, and the orcs grew more numerous.
And so, the King personally led a small contingent of his most impressive warriors through the Fanged Peaks and into the neighboring Kingdom of Larion. Hopefully, their leader, Emperor Magnus, would grant him an audience and ultimately aid.
Larion capital city bustled with energy. Uther felt uncomfortable being in a city where safety could be taken for granted. Its citizens walked briskly with professionally contained joy. After explaining his situation to the guards, Uther was instructed to wait in a small dining hall. The King was not used to taking instructions, but he reminded himself that he was here to beg for a favor, so he remained patient.
The hall was built to impress. Elaborate tapestries told stories of conflict and conquest. The size of the room was elongated through trickery. The wall on the far side was made of polished metal. Uther stared his reflection in the eyes. His traveling tunic was complemented by an ornate breastplate the King seldom removed. Uther saw an image crafted to appear more confident than he truly felt. When he was young, Uther’s grandfather had spoken of fighting orcs like it was a chore, a duty as inevitable and unremarkable as a farmer removing weeds from his fields. Uther had fallen short.
He was proud of the scars he had earned fighting for his people’s safety, but he feared that his efforts were in vain. In his reflection, Uther saw glimpses of the shame he felt at failing his ancestors and subjects.
With remarkably little fanfare, Emperor Magnus appeared over his reflection’s shoulder. Uther turned around to see Larion’s leader proudly striding into the room. The emperor was clad in naught but his underlinens.
“King Uther! It is a pleasure to finally meet you. Although our realms neighbor, I know very little of your land or its leader.”
Unsure if he should be offended, King Uther tried to maintain his composure.
“Your majesty…” King Uther’s speech faltered. “Your robes.”
“Majestic, aren’t they!”
Uther turned to look at his assistants, who were just as confused and shocked as he.
“I recently acquired them from a traveling pair of arcane tailors. The robes have been enchanted so that only the truly wise can see them. To all others, they appear invisible.”
Emperor Magnus proudly raised his arms and rotated in place, exposing his bare, hairy back to the dining hall.
“I am told you come seeking an alliance. I would not wish to ally myself with one who couldn’t see my new robes.”
Squire Gareth, the youngest of Uther’s entourage spoke calmly. “But he hasn’t got anything on!”
A chill hush swept through the room. Uther fiercely turned his gaze upon the young boy, his eyes commanding the young lad to remain silent.
“Please forgive my young squire, your Grace. He is tired from our long travels and clearly lacks the wisdom to hold his tongue.”
Rather than looking ashamed, Gareth cocked his head in confusion.
“Of course!” Emperor Magnus gushed. “I often cannot see the robes myself after I do without a good night’s sleep. My attendants shall escort you to your chambers, and we can resume our meeting in the morning.”
That evening, King Uther summoned his closest advisors, plus Squire Gareth, to his expansive guest chambers. Lord Edwin moved to uncork a bottle of wine, but King Uther stopped him with a raised hand.
“We have much to discuss.”
Lord Edwin shrugged. “There’s not much to discuss, my Liege. Emperor Magnus is insane.”
Uther stroked his beard. “That is certainly one possibility.”
Lord Edwin barreled ahead with the same confidence he displayed on the battlefield. “He was born into a kingdom of peace and his brain has gone stale, like an uncorked bottle of wine.” Edwin punctuated the statement by flicking the cork out of the bottle and beginning to pour glasses. Uther didn’t stop him this time. Even a King can only be so commanding with a Lord who had repeatedly ridden into battle at his side.
Uther turned to his other advisors. “Any other theories?”
Duke Frederick measured the silence carefully. When no one else spoke, he tentatively raised his hand. “Perhaps we should go around the room and find out who did and didn’t see the Robes.”
The nervous Duke’s brain moved faster than his tongue. Barely. He covered his retreat.
“Well, perhaps we all saw the robes and are wise. Perhaps none of us saw the robes and are not wise. I wouldn’t mean to presume that I am wiser than you, my Liege, if you did not see it. I am simply stating that we are not certain who did or didn’t see the robes or if the robes truly only appear to the wise.”
Uther lacked the patience for this. He pinched the bridge of his nose and commanded the room. “Raise your hand if you saw Emperor Magnus’s robes.” When he looked up, the entire room was looking around. Duke Frederick lowered a tentative, non-committal hand.
Squire Gareth again spoke up. “We were all there. He hasn’t got anything on.”
Uther spoke slowly. “That is how it appeared to me. If anyone did see anything, I will not be angry if they say so.”
The room was silent, save for the sound of Lord Edwin’s chugging.
Duke Frederick reflected on his experience. “What if he knows the robes aren’t real, and he’s testing us?”
“Testing us for what?”
“Politeness? Loyalty to your Kingdom? Bravery to call out a lie?”
King Uther shook his head, considering how the possibilities crossed purposes. “A leader wouldn’t start a relationship in that manner.”
Lord Edwin set down his empty goblet with a satisfying clink. “As I said, the emperor is insane.”
King Uther took a deep breath. “Lady Amara, what is your opinion?”
The rest of the room startled and turned to find Lady Amara. As was often the case, the Royal Spymaster had listened from the conversation’s edges. The Royal Spymaster always listened yet rarely spoke unless compelled by duty.
The Spymaster smiled. “I concur with Squire Gareth. I didn’t see the robes either.”
“Lord Edwin may be right.” Lord Edwin raised the wine bottle in acknowledgment as he poured a second glass. “The Kingdom of Larion is rumored to be a land of mystery and madness. We know little of this place.
“I also concur with Squire Gareth,” Lady Amara said. “I did not see any robes either.” Unsurprised and unconcerned, the young squire did not react to the obvious statement.
“Although,” she continued. “I would caution against similar outbursts in the future. I have heard whispers of this land, and there’s another possibility: We may be too unwise to see the robes.”
The other royal advisors started to protest, but King Uther silenced them with an authoritatively raised finger. When the room was silent, he pointed the finger at Lady Amara, compelling her to speak further.
“I have heard strange whispers of this land. My spies tell of long-necked horses who eat leaves rather than grass and eight-legged boneless fish who scurry underwater with an alien intelligence and change their color and texture at will. The subjects of Larion understand magic we do not. They master deep arithmancy, and rumors say their artificers endeavor to teach sand to think. It is possible the robes are real.”
King Uther rose to his feet. His attendants sensed the air of finality and stood as well. Lord Edwin asked the question on everyone’s mind.
“What’s the plan, my Lord?”
“Tomorrow, I’ll tell Emperor Magnus that the orcish invasion will one day threaten both lands and should be confronted in unison.”
“And if he asks about his robes again?”
The King shook his head. “We’ll harvest what grows. We won’t get any further tonight.”
The next morning, King Uther awoke refreshed and resolute. His entourage was led into a conference room and was told the emperor would be joining them shortly. The massive table at the room’s center was carved in relief to map the territory surrounding Larion. Uther quickly located his own realm of Lothar. Beyond Larion were described mysterious realms of which even Lady Amara said she was ignorant.
Uther considered sitting near the depiction of his capital, but the high mountain range separating Lothar from Larion would have physically separated him from Emperor Magnus if the foreign ruler did the same, so Uther instead stood near the head of the table where he could overlook both Kingdoms.
Emperor Magnus arrived shortly thereafter wearing luxurious red robes befitting a ruler. Uther turned to smile at his advisors and share his relief, but Lord Edwin and Duke Fererick looked as characteristically impatient and nervous, respectively, as ever. King Uther instead addressed his host.
“Emperor Magnus, thank you again for your hospitality and for your counsel!”
The emperor walked directly to King Uther and clasped his hand in greeting.
“It is my honor! Now, tell me why you have come.”
The emperor listened patiently while Uther described the orc infestation. He gestured to the map to indicate lost cities. The tiny grains of wood hollowly represented battlefields on which Uther’s men had fought and failed to keep the darkness at bay.
The emperor asked peculiar questions. When Uther described the pattern of attacks, which had remained slow for decades but seemed to suddenly increase in number, Magnus asked if his guest was familiar with the word “exponential.”
“Is that a word for when something no longer has potential?”
“In Arithmancy…” Emperor considered digressing, but instead waved his hand and asked Uther to continue. “Tell me more about where the orcs come from.”
This was a mysterious topic. Uther had led his armies on campaigns to reconquer territory, but the orcs always seemed to rise again from any land where they had cursed the soil.
“And you said their skin was green? What if…” Emperor Magnus idly stroked the sleeves of his robes and quietly spoke a sentence under his breath. With greater confidence, his lips repeated the motion and he shared his thought aloud. “The orcs grow from the ground. They may have green skin for the same reason as plants. We can only reconquer Lothar if we retake the land and somehow prevent them from growing.”
For the first time in years, King Uther felt hope spreading through his chest like a growing campfire.
The emperor made eye contact with his neighboring King.
“Of course, we will help you in this enterprise. The orcs may one day grow to threaten us as well, and it would be unwise for me to not lend you aid. In payment, I simply ask that you teach my mages your magic spell that starts campfires.”
“Create Bonfire? It’s a simple cantrip. What would you plan to do with it?”
“We have lots of ideas about things to do with boiling water.”
Emperor Magnus continued fiddling with his sleeves as he continued to muse.
“We’ll have to find a way to prevent them from growing. Perhaps you could bring a sample here to study?” Emperor Magnus dropped his sleeves and shook his head. “No. We will study them in your lands.”
“Whatever it takes to defeat the orcs. I will salt my Kingdom if we have to!”
As he uttered the sentence, the emperor’s robes disappeared. Reading his reaction, Emperor Magnus smiled and pointed to his chest.
“No,” King Uther said. “That wouldn’t be very wise.”
