I’ve never had the crown in my hand, but if I could, I’d feel every rivet and the chill of the iron. It’s probably a stubborn weight, clinging to the wearer's head like a silent oath. The inscription, those carved words, would be a weight all their own—telling a story that feels heavier than the metal itself. I’d measure it in more than pounds, in the history it carries. If you ever let me touch it, I’ll put it right where it belongs, between a few books and a dusty chest of forgotten treasures.