The Boy and The Man by Offer R (love story novels in english .txt) 📖

senior advisors. This countered the air of power and dignity possessed by The Boy's uniform of the Guard.

"On the face of it yes, sir. But one mustn't forget that I've spent many years, and indeed my most important ones, in the midst of royalty. Look at me today, speak with me, even duel with me; send the king himself to assess my manners, and you will see not a boy from the south but a man of rank and dignity. For Heaven's Sake, the king has charged his own security in my hands along with those of his own son." The Boy spoke with passion and pride that would put to shame the finest lawyers pleading for the release of an innocent prisoner. But Mr. Parthons was no amateur in matters of oratory, and was a strong, bendy branch in the face of the fiercest of winds.

"I'm well aware of your many accomplishments, young man. And yet one can do nothing to change one's origins. Not even an official decree from the king himself would alter the fact that you have come from south of the woods, and your blood is forever southern blood."

This ruffed The Boy's pride and fired great wrath inside him. He was about to lash out at Mr. Parthon's for his bigotry but caught himself just in time to realize that so doing, while noble and just, would be detrimental to his cause. So here's how he responded instead:

"Again we see eye to eye, sir. You may put a crown on the head of a fool, but he won't become a king. I don't deny my birthplace. But bear in mind these two things: first, that my father is perhaps the finest carpenter in the kingdom. You've perhaps heard his name before, and know that it is no typical southern blood that runs through his veins."

"Yes, of course", Mr. Parthons mumbled thoughtfully. The Boy finally felt that he was making headway with the stubborn man, and in order to strike the iron while it's hot peppered his next argument with a pinch of fiction. (It's widely known that a pinch of fiction tends to greatly enhance a dull point of truth).

"Secondly, technically speaking I wasn't born in the south. I was born in the forest, sir. In the northern part of the woods, actually."

"Is that so?"

"Very much so, sir. My father was escorting mother back from the doctor's when… oh, but a man of your status hasn't time for my petty tales. But you see, sir, since it's long been established that an infant's birthplace carries great weight with regards to his destiny, it's certainly a very vague determination to consider me a southerner. But of course there was no way for you to know these things until now, so you were in the right to make your determination at the time."

"Hmm. You raise an interesting point, young man. And yet one thing you'll not be able to account for."

"What's that sir? I can think of no such thing."

"Ah, but there are many things that transcend a boy's range of insight", Mr. Parthons declared smugly. You are a puerile fellow in the field of romance, and you are several years my daughter's junior. It's unbecoming for a young woman of her status to be taken by an inexperienced boy."

'So it appears it's not my origin that troubles you', The Boy thought. 'You're just shooting in the dark for a reason to deny me. You're not the honest man you lead people to believe, sir. But slyness is a great friend of mine, and trying to team up with her against me will only lead to your defeat.' And with this he became doubly determined to outwit the king's knavish advisor.

"Am I to understand that what suits the king isn't sufficient for you?"

"Oh no, most certainly not", Mr. Parthons blurted out, suddenly flustered by the grave implication.

"I'll have you know, sir, that I'm not as young as you think. I'm hardly younger than your daughter, actually. And as for my romantic experience, well, you are under the misconception that I lack it only because a gentleman never tells. The right conclusion isn't that I lack experience, but that I'm a gentleman that doesn't make his experiences known."

"That is a most fitting conduct", Mr. Parthons mumbled under his breath. Having run out of ammunition, he accepted his debacle and resultantly declared to his rival and his daughter's lover that he would lift his prohibition on their relations and send his daughter to meet him the next day. A more jubilant victor has never left a battleground, verbal or otherwise, than The Boy making his way back to the palace. He advanced at a trot, eager to share the sweetness of victory with the prince. For victory isn't half as sweet when it's tasted alone.

But The Boy's thorough rapture was curbed when faced with the prince's reaction to his glorious success. One must bear in mind the suffering borne by the prince every time he was told his assistance had furthered The Boy's pursuit for Aphrodite's heart. Therefore even his pure intentions and great forbearance weren't impervious to failure, and it was inevitable that his pain would be betrayed even to the preoccupied and unsuspecting Boy.

"What's the matter, my friend? Are you ill?" The Boy cried, feeling as much sympathy for the prince as he did for himself. After all, it's no small sacrifice to have to extinguish the fire of excitement in one's heart when its flames are at their tallest.

The prince shook his head glumly.

"But you've heard my news. What could possibly be so terrible as to supersede your happiness for my success?"

The prince lifted his eyes from the floor and leveled them timidly at The Boy's. His expression was steeped with apology, and suddenly the bitter truth dawned on The Boy. He gasped sharply and said emphatically:

"It's Aphrodite, isn't it? Either you don't think her worthy of my efforts- but no, that's impossible. Only a fool would think it, and you are no fool. Then it has to be… is it true? You desire her?"

"I'm deeply sorry, brother, but it's true. I've tried to keep it to myself, but you see, now that you've caught onto it I can't lie to you." The Boy was utterly stunned by this confession, as though there hadn't been the slightest insinuation to indicate it before.

"What have you to be sorry for? No; it's I who should apologize. To think that her charm could possibly have evaded you-ha! It's preposterous, I realize it now. But tell me, what you feel for her- is it true love? Or just a random attraction, the kind young men are bound to feel for magnificent girls such as her? Don't hide anything from me, I beg of you."

The guilt in the prince's eyes deepened. "If what I feel for her isn't love then there must exist only hatred in this world. I wish it weren't so, but again I can't lie to you. I've loved her for years. It must've been before I'd ever met you that my heart first wandered off in pursuit of hers."

"Have you ever told her how you felt? Have you ever attempted to determine her state of mind, or rather state of heart, in the matter?"

The prince shook his head, his lips as thin and as narrow as though they were mere cracks on his face, serving no purpose of their own.

"But why?" The Boy wondered as though he found no sense in it. But the answer to his question was in fact as simple as can be: it was one of those many curious things in the world that had no answer. They happened without being explained, and had done so ever since people were cursed with such scourges as pride and hesitation.

"If only I'd known", The Boy muttered, realizing now more than ever how fortunate he'd been to have had such intimate contact with her the first time they met. It must've been orchestrated by the gods!

"But not all is lost for you, my friend", he continued. "I will investigate Aphrodite's feelings toward you and report them to you. I will be subtle and not expose your secret, don't worry. And if the beat of her heart matches yours, I won't stand in the way of a prince and a princess. She will be yours."

"You will do no such thing!" The prince protested halfheartedly. How dearly he wanted The Boy to do it! And yet it wasn't the right path to take, and he was obliged to object to it. "You will love her with all your heart, and if she returns your love- how could she not?- then your spirits will unite and my broken heart will heal through the knowledge of your endless happiness. It's now your right and your duty to do so, do you hear me brother?"

But the die was cast and The Boy was going to leave no stone no question unresolved and no foggy patches in the sweet land of love that three were now craving but only two could enter. "You've been too kind to me, and I wouldn't dream of trading your misery for my happiness. The other way around, perhaps. I will find the truth and finally relieve your regrets about her", he declared decisively. By now he'd forgotten of his recent grand triumph, and its place in his mind was filled by the conviction that his fairness toward the prince wouldn't entail as great a risk as it'd seemed. The prince had no firsthand knowledge of The Boy's relationship with Aphrodite, and therefore it was excusable that in the throes of a lost love he'd nurtured the wistful naiveté required to believe that she might choose him over The Boy whom she already loved dearly. He would settle the matter the next day and have Aphrodite's heart, as well as the prince's sincere support, in his hands.

Chapter 7

 

Many events of consequence were crowded in a short span of time in those days. In keep with this trend, the next significant occurrence took place even before The Boy's meeting with Aphrodite, which was now anticipated not by two but by three hopeful souls. It was a late morning hour and the members of the Guard were rehearsing their symbolic role in the queen's upcoming birthday party. Peaceful that the kingdom was, it was rare that the Guard was required to engage in combative action or even attend the kingdom's borders and its principal day to day role was merely symbolic. But of course one can't count solely on statistics and likelihood in matters of life and death, and therefore scouts were always on the watch around the borders.

On the day in question, an urgent message passed on by the scout posted at the northwest border was relayed to the Captain of the Guard with haste in the middle of a procession rehearsal. The prince hearkened the message with extra attention, this being the first such message since his installment. Even before he processed the information, he beckoned his Lieutenant and asked the messenger to repeat the message.

An outsider would say that the messenger was only a boy, but in fact he was at least two years older than The Boy. He was scrawny, tanned, and very light on his feet, which was a perfect combination for a long distance runner. He was still gasping for breath, and to produce any kind of vocalization required an inhuman effort of him. He mumbled something that The Boy couldn't comprehend.

"What did he say? Speak up!" The Boy ordered, and the poor messenger was forced to hold off his breath for another anguishing few moments. "Capitals forces have been sighted moving along the western valley, numbering at least two hundred strong", the exhausted messenger blurted out just coherently enough to be made out.

"Direction?" The prince asked importantly.

"Southbound."

"They're going for the terraces", the prince muttered thoughtfully. "I assume they're riding?"

"Of course, sir."

"We have