The Boy and The Man - Offer R (fiction book recommendations .txt) 📗

off the largest, most savage leopard in the forest' became an icon of bravery and spirit. Not a day went by in the courthouse or at the marketplace in which his story wasn't told and retold and his courage adulated. Everyone spoke of him, but only a handful of people knew who he really was. Then, when it seemed nothing could lift him even higher, he received a personal invitation to meet Prince Conan. Prince Conan, royal blood, and the second most powerful person in the kingdom, sent for him!

Needless to say, it was unprecedented for anyone humble enough to live to the south of the forest to ever have met a member of the royal family. Never had a man or woman from the south set foot on the gold-laden marble floor of the royal palace. The palace towered high over the kingdom at its northernmost point, and was rarely required to deal with anything or anyone south of the forest. The king and the royal family had more important things to deal with than the petty troubles of the people down south. But this would all change when The Boy met the young prince and make his mother the proudest woman in the whole kingdom. Oh, one who didn't see her in the week that separated between the Prince's invitation and the actual meeting knows not the meaning of a mother's pride! She couldn't think of anything during daytime or dream of anything at night but of The Boy being knighted and winning the adoration of the whole kingdom. If there was anyone in the kingdom more excited than The Boy at that time, it was his mother.

It was only on the day that preceded the intended meeting that a messenger was sent across the forest to inform The Boy's family of the prince's intentions. The messenger was a lanky young man, perhaps ten years The Boy's senior, and he was exhausted by the journey. He had not only traversed the entire kingdom from north to south, but had done so carrying a long, narrow wooden case decorated with the royal emblem.

"The Boy will take part in a public exhibition that will be held at the royal arena", the young man said in a very formal manner.

"An exhibition?" The Boy's mother said with a dreamy glow in her eyes.

"Yes. A friendly duel between him and His Highness the prince", the messenger explained expressionlessly.

The Boy's eyes popped out and his lungs became reluctant to keep breathing. "A duel?" He barely managed to mumble.

"A duel. As you know, Prince Conan is something of a prodigy in the art of swordsmanship. He has heard, of course, of The Boy's skills and wishes to put them to the test against his own. For demonstrative purposes only, of course", continued the messenger, who was still gaining his breath.

"But- I don't even have…" The Boy stuttered.

"A sword", the messenger interrupted him, offering the beautiful wooden case to The Boy. The Boy took it with shaking arms and opened it gently to find a beautiful sword nestled inside like a piece of jewelry.

"Courtesy of His Highness", the messenger added. "You will use it in the duel. The Prince assures it is nothing inferior to his own personal sword, therefore you should not feel at a disadvantage."

"But I am! I wouldn't know the first thing about swordsmanship!" The Boy cried, to the great entertainment of the messenger. "You must tell the prince that I won't be able to take part in this duel."

The messenger laughed, for he couldn't believe that any man, let alone a poor boy of the south, would dare reject an offer extended by Prince Conan himself. The Boy's mom was quick to endorse the messenger's assumption by saying:

"Don't be silly, darling. We will be most honored to accept the prince's invitation. And please, if it is possible, convey to him our deep gratitude for his consideration." By this she meant the delivery of the wonderful sword.

"But mother-" The Boy tried, but wasn't allowed to object.

"Everything is fine, darling. Everything is just fine", she insisted. The Boy looked up at his mother with a terrible scowl. It didn't make any sense to allow him to engage in a sword fight with anyone, let alone the prodigious prince. He would be humiliated, if not killed! But her mother had been so carried away in conveying her version of the story to others that she'd forgotten it didn't quite represent the truth.

"Certainly, ma'am. Be sure to arrive at the palace's main courtyard no later than tomorrow at noon. I will escort you from there to the guests' quarters. At his convenience the prince will meet you in person, and then the two boys will make their way to the arena", the messenger instructed.

"It is planned to be a public event, you say?" The Boy's mother asked.

"Indeed. I've heard half the kingdom will try to squeeze into the stands to observe the spectacle. I will tell you in secret, but you must not let it leave this room: even the royal family is bursting with anticipation. Win or lose, my dear boy, it will be a true celebration, I'm sure of it."

"We can't wait. It's strange, though, that we haven't heard of this earlier. None of our neighbors knew about it, either", The Boy's mother said.

"But of course. Entrance will be permitted only to those who live north of the forest. Oh, I almost forgot- you are allowed to bring escorts with you. Up to ten will be allowed entry", the messenger replied. Though he was never the architect of any ordnance or design undertaken by the royal family, he followed them all with heart and soul.

"Well then, you can expect a convoy of ten to accompany our fine boy", The Boy's mother said, and with much grace the messenger was shown the door.

"Mother! How could you allow-" The Boy began to protest again, and once more wasn't allowed to finish.

"Just a moment, darling. I must hurry and tell our neighbors the thrilling news", his mother said, at which point she started making basic calculations: "ten minus the three of us leaves seven. Then there's Joana, Marla Daphne…" It was fairly easy to reach the cap number, and The Boy's mother wished they were given extra seats. But the people of the south- they were used to make do with what little they had.

The Boy, disheartened to the point of tears, spent the rest of the day practicing his grip and awkward swing of the sword. It was so heavy- he could barely hold it up with one hand at first! But he practiced until dinner was served, and then until he was required to get to sleep. By the dawn of the next morning he felt at least some measure of comfort with his new sword, and with it a sliver of hope that the day wouldn't end in a disaster.

Chapter 4

 

The march to the kingdom was a long one. The procession from the south, numbering 10, set out shortly after daybreak. Not one of the family's neighbors had refused the invitation, of course, and they were all clad in their finest uniforms. The Boy's mother looked the most regal, wearing her finest black dress which she hadn't taken out of the closet in years. The Boy, too, was dressed for the occasion. Having been forced to take a break from his training the previous afternoon, he'd been rushed across the forest to a tailor who was versed with the esoteric task of preparing a commoner to meet a member of royalty. The tailor was still in a debt of gratitude to The Boy's father, who had built his tailor shop several years earlier, and so the work was offered free of charge. It wasn't the most comfortable suit he'd worn, but The Boy looked distinguished, which was the most important thing that day.

Though there had been time to spare, the procession completed the long journey without stopping to rest or eat. The Boy's mother insisted that no detours be made and no delays be allowed so as not to risk missing the appointed time. Indeed, the group of ten simple southerners reached the palace courtyard well ahead of time, and well out of breath.

But once they laid eyes on the opulence of the courtyard, the magnificent garden surrounding it, the grand stairway and finally the palace, their tribulations were at once forgotten. People of rank strutted about, their only concern in the world to outlook the others. Indeed, their extravagant uniforms put those of the procession to shame. The stones paving the courtyard were of a white so pure one should feel guilty for stepping on them. The white marble of the grand stairs was even purer. Hundreds of flowers blossomed in perfect order in the surrounding gardens, and even the grass was so clean in color and neatly trimmed that it had a royal air about it. The area of the garden alone was larger than that of all the houses of all the members of the procession.

Then, at the very top of the upward slope, stood the crown of the kingdom: the royal palace. It was a masterpiece of stone, marble, glass, gold, and diamond. Word will surely fall short of describing its glamour, therefore anyone who hasn't seen it should close their eyes for a moment and imagine the most exquisite palace that could ever be built. That is just the image that towered high over the courtyard and the guests from the south.

There were dozens of people walking leisurely along the spacious courtyard, occupied only by the need to impress one another. Greetings were exchanged and light conversation was made. New connections and impressions were formed, and most of all idle time was passed with some measure of pleasure. It was fortunate that our visitors from the south had been meticulous about their apparel, otherwise they should expect to be ogled at and ridiculed by the distinguished crowd. But no, in their current condition the visitors derived much pleasure from the occasion. They were no different, really, from the ladies with the funny hats and puffy dresses, or from the men with the fine cloaks. At least they didn't let the differences show, which is all that counts.

At least an hour of admiring the previously unknown environment went by, and not a single one of the visitors from the south had had enough. But appointments should be kept anywhere, and if nowhere else than certainly in royal circles. Therefore the messenger, donning a far more glittery costume than he had the previous day, descended to meet the visitors only seconds before the bell in the tower at the east of the courtyard struck noon. The Boy's mother recognized him while he was pacing down the stairs, and advanced to meet him at the very center of the courtyard.

"Madam", he greeted with a slight bow forward.

"Sir."

"You've had a tedious journey, I expect."

"Oh, nonsense. It is nothing but an honor for us to be here." But words can't disguise the symptoms of the body, and her state of exhaustion and near dehydration were evident to the kind messenger.

"The Prince has offered to accommodate you and your escorts with a royal meal in the palace's guests' dining hall. No- he has requested it. Even urged it, one might say. But we'd better be light on our feet, as The Prince wishes to meet the boy privately before the clock strikes one." Such an opportunity couldn't be waived, of course, and the visitors enjoyed a more sumptuous meal than most people even dare dream about.

At several minutes to the appointed time of one after noon The Boy was requested to take leave of the table and accompany the messenger to the Prince's quarters. Overwhelmed by the culinary wealth, he'd managed to set aside his deep nervousness and apprehension from what was to come, but now it all fell back upon him at once. Even