Legends II – The Silent Throne

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Whoever fears the Harvest Emperor has not yet seen the Silent Throne. It appears not like a rider, not like an army, not like a messenger of fire – but like a monument that forgot to stand still. No running footstep announces it, no alarm clock strikes its entry into the world. One evening the field is empty, and in the morning it stands there. Always where people have spoken too many words. Four massive limbs of iron bones support the structure, at its center a seat upon which rests a figure wrapped in deep green cloth. No flesh peeks out from beneath the hood, only the dull gleam of a golden skull, its teeth set in a rigid grin. No spark of life in its sockets, and yet many believe they have been scrutinized by them. The throne itself moves, not the enthroner. When his feet lift, the sound is not of metal, but of distant bells ringing underwater. Each note extinguishes another. Wherever he steps, crickets and frogs fall silent, even the wind buckles as if caught. They say the Silent Throne is not judge, not king, but a mirror. It does not decide who is punished – they decide for themselves by speaking. Many tested his anger, believing they could banish it with sword or spell. But the throne does not resist. It listens. It listens not to the words, but to the intention behind them. An innkeeper is said to have once cursed him, loudly and with foaming mouth. In the morning, he was found awake in his bed, unable to make a sound again. His throat was unharmed, but every attempt to speak produced only silence. Others, however, were spared – those who kept quiet, not out of fear, but out of humility. A shepherd, it is said, sat down one morning in a neighboring field, just a few steps from the throne, and began to eat his bread in peace without a word. The throne remained for an hour – then moved on. Since then, the shepherd has lived a secluded life, with eyes that hear more than see.Even more sinister, however, is the second figure, the one behind the hooded figure. A bony creature, smaller, hunched over, without a robe. Some believe it is the previous lord of the throne, some believe it is the future one. Perhaps the two are the same. On rare nights, when fog drifts over the fields, the rear body is said to tremble as if trying to rise – but always the main figure places a hand on its shoulder, and silence returns. No one knows whether this is mercy or punishment. Scholars write in their chronicles that the Silent Throne always appears where there has been too much talk and too little thought. In some villages, people no longer dare to argue, believing every unnecessary word is a shout. In others, however, they sit together in silence, sharing bread, glances, breath—and are happier than before. Some whisper that the Silent Throne is the answer to a world tired of noise.