Chapter 208: Boys Being Boys
By noon, Swan Lake had grown even more crowded.
The autumn sun cast a gentle glow, its warmth tinged with a crisp coolness. High above, pristine white clouds drifted across an endless blue sky, a breathtakingly pure scene that lifted the spirits.
Beneath the tree, Simon’s promise delighted the three men. But Maxwell hesitated. "Your Highness, this poetry contest is hosted by the princess. The rules state entry is by verse alone. Frankly, for the past five years, we’ve been turned away at the door and mocked relentlessly. But now, with Your Highness’s peerless talent, surely we can share both fortune and misfortune?"
"Exactly! If we could tour the lake with Her Highness, I’d die happy tonight!" Reece’s eyes glazed over with longing.
Daniel elbowed him sharply. Reece snapped back to reality, suddenly remembering that the princess was Simon’s aunt. His words bordered on disrespect.
"My apologies, Your Highness! That was nonsense, utter nonsense!"
Simon had always sensed something dangerous about his aunt. Beneath her harmless facade lay formidable influence; why else would Prince Gerad go out of his way to indulge her?
"No matter. Better you three get the privilege than some pretentious scholar." Simon grinned, utterly irreverent. To him, Princess Lisa was no cherished relative.
The trio gaped, then nearly wept with gratitude. Maxwell clasped his hands. "Your Highness, five years apart, and you’re still the same! For this kindness today, whatever you need in the future, we won’t refuse!"
"Won’t refuse!" Reece and Daniel echoed fervently. In their eyes, Prince Simon remained the same legend, always coming through for his friends.
Simon smiled faintly.
A lakeside excursion with the princess was harmless, just a photo op with a celebrity, in modern terms. While he found it tedious, for these three, it would be bragging rights for a year.
"Shall we head in, then?"
Outside the silk drapes, rejected scholars trudged away dejectedly while selected nobles swaggered inside. The crowd thinned.
"Then we’ll trouble Your Highness!" The trio practically vibrated with anticipation.
"Listen closely."
Simon sifted through the poetry database in his mind, selecting three works.
To Maxwell, he recited:
"The Roads We Scroll"
Two paths glowed as I walked tonight,
One safe, one wild with moonlight.
I took the one that scared me most,
heart racing, thumbs hovering, ghost of every ’what if’ in my throat.
No yellow woods, just blue replies,
Likes are fading as the real world dies.
But forward, bare feet on unknown code,
I built a garden where the wild things grow.
The road less travelled isn’t paved,
It’s recited early in the morning; I’m unafraid.
"Brilliant!" The three clapped in awe.
Reece’s eyes lit up. "Your Highness’s genius astounds! A casual poem about longing, perfectly suited for this occasion! Maxwell, give it to me, I’ll go first!"
"Piss off!" Maxwell snarled. "His Highness gave this to me!"
"Try stopping me, and I’ll tell my father you visited a brothel last week. One impeachment memorial later..." Reece smirked.
"You snake!" Maxwell and Daniel spat in unison.
Reece shrugged. "For the princess, I’ll be shameless. Your Highness, I’m off!"
Chanting the poem, he strutted toward the drapes.
Maxwell turned tearfully to Simon. "Your Highness, you must uphold justice! Reece’s treachery knows no bounds!"
Simon sighed. Some things never changed.
"Relax. I’ve more where that came from." He cleared his throat.
"Off-Key for You"
Golden strings on a sleek black frame,
Her manicured fingers dance the same.
She knows every note, every perfect run,
But tonight she slips, just slightly off-key,
A trembling chord, a deliberate mistake.
She watches him lean in from across the room,
That spark in his eyes when she’s less than flawless.
Because perfect is easy.
Vulnerable? That’s the hook.
Sometimes the sweetest melody is the one that says
"I’m human... And I chose you."
"Exquisite! Your Highness’s talent leaves us in awe!" Maxwell’s outrage vanished instantly.
Daniel shoved him aside. "Your Highness! My turn!"
Simon eyed him. "Daniel, as a general’s son, love poems don’t suit you. Try this,
"The Labyrinth of Stones"
Three crowns hung on a single blade,
His cunning turned the tide of war.
He raised a fortress from the river stones,
a maze of rock no army could outflank.
Like Merlin’s hand or Caesar’s ghost,
He wove the current into walls of war.
The stones stood firm where the waters roared,
And proud invaders broke upon his art.
Yet one missed chance still haunts the hall:
The western fleet that never reached the shore.
The river flows, the ramparts stand,
But kingdoms fall on what-ifs evermore.
Daniel scratched his ears, beaming. Like Simon’s former self, these three had never bothered with studies. Why would they, when official posts were inherited?
With poems in hand, they approached the drapes.
Reece had already submitted his verse. A golden-armoured guard carried it inside, presumably to the princess.
"Your Highness, after you?"
At the entrance, Reece offered paper and a brush. Maxwell and Daniel glared daggers at each other.
After hasty promises of compensatory feasts, peace was restored.
"You go first." Simon lingered, letting the other two rush ahead.
Soon, the guard returned. "This gentleman may enter."
"Your Highness, my deepest thanks! I’ll await you inside, and rely on your further assistance!" Reece bowed deeply before strutting in.
Maxwell and Daniel followed, their entries also accepted.
Alone now, Simon pondered before writing:
"Golden Rebellion"
Wait for the Double Ninth, when autumn bites,
I’ll rise alone, the boldest bloom in sight.
While others fade in frost’s cruel embrace,
My petals burn, a crown of fire and grace.
My scent will storm the skies of old Eldora,
Drowning the city in a sea of gold.
No fragile rose, no trembling orchid’s plea,
I wear my armour bright for all to see.
Let kings and seasons bow before my throne:
The chrysanthemum claims the field alone."
The guard delivered his poem.
---
Princess Lisa reclined on a mahogany chair draped in sable furs. Before her, rows of tables seated Eldora’s most celebrated beauties, a garden of blossoms in silk and perfume.
"Your Highness, this year’s talents surpass all expectations," remarked a woman in crimson gauze, her porcelain skin accentuated by a vermilion forehead dot. "The Roads We Scroll then, Off-Key For You, Labyrinth Of Stones, such works are rare even in past contests."
Princess Lisa smiled. "Princess Elowen speaks true. I thought this year was mediocre, but these final pieces are extraordinary. Yet prepared verses prove little. Let us test their improvisation next."
Her gaze shifted to a veiled figure on her right. "Elin, this is your first poetry gathering. What do you think?"