Chapter 207: Reunion
Simon lingered beneath a tree at the rear, watching the scene unfold.
"Your Highness?"
"Halt!"
Two voices rang out abruptly, the first vaguely familiar, the second belonging unmistakably to Thomas and William.
Turning, Simon saw a graceful young man in a blue, round-collared robe. A mole between his eyebrows triggered a name in Simon’s memory.
"Maxwell!"
The young man laughed brightly. "Your Highness! Five years apart, and I almost didn’t recognise you!"
Simon quickly recalled Maxwell’s background and his father, Gareth, a target for alliance on his list.
"Thomas, William, stand down. This is the eldest son of the Court of Imperial Sacrifices’ director, Gareth Bale.
"Your Highness, it’s me, Maxwell!"
Maxwell beamed with delight, sauntering toward Maxwell with a paper fan in hand, the picture of an old friend reunited.
Back when Simon had roamed Eldora’s streets, he’d had a tight-knit circle of pleasure-seeking young nobles, Maxwell among them. Five years apart hadn’t changed Maxwell one bit. He still looked like a man hollowed out by wine and women, though the dark circles under his eyes had deepened.
Clearly, some habits died hard.
As Maxwell approached, Simon gave him a once-over. "What a coincidence, running into you here."
"Coincidence? Your Highness, this is fate!" Maxwell chuckled before sighing theatrically. "Though now, as Prince Simon, your victory at Dunmere has made you renowned across the land. Compared to you, I’m but a fading shadow."
"Nonsense," Simon said. "Back then, I told you all that no matter where I went, I’d remember our bonds. Why bring up Dunmere? Between us, there’s no need for such formality."
The words warmed Maxwell’s heart. "With that from you, Your Highness, all those times we braved life and death together, scaling mountains of blades, crossing seas of fire, were worth it. Now that you’ve returned, we’ll still follow your lead." Maxwell had a silver tongue. Their so-called ’life-and-death’ adventures had amounted to little more than carousing and bullying commoners.
But Simon couldn’t very well bring up those unsavoury memories now. Maxwell’s phrasing deftly honoured their friendship without provoking ire.
As they chatted, reminiscing, Maxwell gradually slipped back into the easy camaraderie of their youth.
"Your Highness, every year at this time, we’d accompany you to the Autumn Festival by the lake. Who’d have thought that upon your return to Eldora, we’d meet here again, as if our hearts beat as one? This time, we must revel to our hearts’ content before leaving."
One of Simon’s goals in returning to Eldora was to reconnect with his old circle.
Though these men had been the worst of wastrels, street thugs in silk robes, there was no denying the depth of bonds forged at thirteen or fourteen.
As the saying went: There are no closer ties than those between men who’ve served together or whored together. They’d done plenty of the latter.
More importantly, these ne’er-do-wells all came from influential families. Only those with powerful backing dared run amok in Eldora.
For Simon, reviving these connections was a safer move than tangling with the old foxes of the court.
Besides, many of these nobles now held minor posts. Maxwell, for instance, worked under his father, Gareth, Director of the Court of Imperial Sacrifices, overseeing the empire’s handicrafts: small-scale weaving, spinning, papermaking, and more.
For Simon, handicrafts were the next step in Brambleford’s economic revival. Sooner or later, he’d need to deal with the Court of Imperial Sacrifices, and Gareth’s archives held records of nearly every workshop in the empire: their types, locations, and output.
Such intelligence was invaluable. Understanding the Eldorian Empire’s current handicraft landscape would let him tailor Brambleford’s development strategically.
"Of course. The poetry contest is the liveliest spot at Swan Lake now. It’s about time, let’s head in." Simon said.
Maxwell grinned. "One moment, Your Highness. I’ve two others with me, Reece and Daniel. You haven’t forgotten them, have you?"
"They’re here too?"
Simon’s heart leapt. The four troublemakers of Eldora were reuniting.
"Naturally. After you left for Brambleford, the three of us still..." Maxwell trailed off with a leer. Simon smirked in understanding.
"Perfect. Bring them over.*
As Maxwell scurried off, Simon rifled through his memories of Reece and Daniel.
Five years was a very long time, and his memories had become blurred; he had to get things straightened out before the two arrived to join him. Quickly using his system.
Reece’s father was the Censor-in-Chief, overseeing officials, managing imperial archives, and drafting edicts.
Daniel’s father commanded the Imperial Guard, responsible for the castle’s security and deeply trusted by Emperor Alaric.
One controlled the censors, the empire’s watchdogs, akin to modern anti-corruption bureaus. The other held the keys to the castle’s safety.
Controlling the latter meant holding the lives of everyone in the palace.
No wonder the princes had been vying for Daniel’s favour. Yet the man remained cautiously neutral.
Simon couldn’t help but marvel; this might be the one decent thing his predecessor had done, even if unintentionally.
Of course, friendship with the sons didn’t guarantee influence over their fathers. But it was a foothold.
Maxwell soon returned with two men, one tall and gaunt, the other short and rotund. The former was Reece; the latter, Daniel.
"Your Highness, we’ve missed you terribly!" They exclaimed in unison.
Birds of a feather, their personalities mirrored Maxwell’s, brash and unrestrained.
"Reece, Daniel." Simon clasped his hands, addressing them by their courtesy names.
"Your Highness!" They bowed before straightening, and the four burst into laughter as if no time had passed.
Reece, like Maxwell, fanned himself with exaggerated refinement. "Daniel and I were just saying we ought to visit you. To meet here is fate! With the four terrors of Eldora reunited, the city had better brace for stormy weather."
"Reece speaks truth." Daniel chimed in. "Since you left, those pretentious scholars have humiliated us time and again. But now, with your poetry famed across Eldora, Your Highness must help us settle scores!"
Simon clasped his hands behind his back. "Nothing simpler, nothing harder. Tonight, we crash this poetry contest."