“Simon, really,” the old man wrung his hands as he hurried behind the Prince, large shoes slapping un ungainly pattern on the floor as he fought to keep up with the younger man. It was almost like watching a child- he’d run a few steps, then walk a few, then run again, almost as if his legs were too short to simply just take longer strides.

“I’ve heard enough, Alfred, as I’m sure you have. I don’t know why you’re even bothering to ask. You know my opinion on the subject.” The brown-haired youth glanced behind him, his stern mouth softening a bit as he slowed, allowing his poor tutor to catch up with him. His expression was unusual on him; normally he could be seen all about the palace with a laugh not far behind him, eyes twinkling merrily at some joke he’d either just heard or played on some good-natured resident of the castle.

“But Simon, Your Highness, your mother…and father…”

“Also know my opinion,” Simon growled in frustration, his stride speeding up again as they turned into a side corridor.

“But Simon, you’re almost 21!” The tutor stopped trying to keep up, and stood in the middle of the hallway, two big tears linking from his eyes and sliding out from under his glasses.

“Alfred,” Simon said with a sigh, handing the older man a handkerchief. “Do you want me to die?”

Alfred was horrified, “Of course not! I simply want you to inherit! It would be a great disappointment if I spent all my life teaching a young man to be a king, and his cousin took the throne instead.” He glared balefully at Simon, doing his best to make the lad feel guilty.

Simon snorted, “Jason won’t inherit the throne. He’s an idiot.”

“But he, unlike you, has fulfilled a quest,” Alfred said airily as he blew his nose on Simon’s handkerchief. He offered the handkerchief back, but Simon shook his head in distaste, allowing the instructor to keep it.

“I’m not going,” Simon said, turning and walking once again.

“But it doesn’t have to be hard, Simon,” the tutor said hopefully, “Doing something, such as rescuing a lost princess or whatnot counts just as much as being kidnapped, or spending seventeen years searching for the Golden Harp…” Alfred beamed fondly as he recalled the triumphant return of the current king, who had the record for years spent on a purposeful quest. Oh, his grandfather had been kidnapped as an infant and only managed to make his way back at the age of twenty, but that was entirely different.

“I have a perfectly fine betrothed princess, right here.” Simon said, smirking as he turned to look at Alfred, “Unless you think I should just jilt her?”

Alfred was shocked, “Highness! You can’t do that, that would be, simply…simply…it’s just…”

“Not done?” Simon laughed. “Well Alfred, you’re making this difficult. First you say I should quest for a princess, then you say I should still marry Adelaide. You can’t have both, you know.”

“If your father agrees to break the betrothal, does that mean you’ll go then? Alfred asked hopefully, excitement making his thin cheeks flush.

Simon grinned, “Not a chance. Adelaide and I are perfectly happy with each other.” He patted the older man’s shoulder as Alfred’s face drooped in disappointment, “Sorry.”

“Now if you’ll excuse me Alfred, I’ve an appointment to keep,” the heir said, stepping out into the bright sunshine of one of the inner courtyards.

“Long as you don’t forget about the one with your father later this afternoon!” Alfred called after him grouchily.

Poor man, Simon reflected, he really had done his best to raise the young prince right. Simon just didn’t care about the Quest. He thought it was idiotic nonsense. None of the other kingdoms had to go through it. Why did their’s have to be the one kingdom? And the magic didn’t help, either. It was said that one way or another, every rule of Eladon would go through the Quest. If a direct descendent wasn’t brought to the Quest, then a cousin or someone else would be. That’s just how things were. The last time someone tried to take over the throne without going through the proper procedures, he’d been struck down by the magic the moment the crown had touched his head. Takeovers had to be very carefully planned, so that the takeover was like a quest in itself, if you wanted it to be effective in Eladon. So, with chances like that, you could be sure that changes in power really didn’t happen that often.

At the sight of the young woman seated on a bench in the shade of a Magnolia tree though, Simon temporarily forgot his annoyance. Adelaide wasn’t exactly what you’d call beautiful- she’d always been the sensible, studious type who preferred a good book and conversation to dancing and tea parties. But they’d been best friends since they were little, even before they knew they were betrothed. They were a perfect pair, she keeping Simon out of the worst of his mischievousness with her logic, and he keeping her from becoming too bookwormish or closeted in her own little world.

“Addy,” he tugged one of her straight, dirty-blonde locks and she looked up from her book to smile at him. “Hello Simon,” she said, taking off her glasses to reveal her gray-green eyes. Misty eyes, he’d always called them. They were the color of the courtyards in early morning, when the sun was just starting to peer through the fog with a twinkle here and there.

“I heard you talking to Alfred,” she said, pulling her legs up so that she was sitting cross-legged on the bench, facing him. Entirely improper for a princess, but he didn’t care. When she visited Eladon, she always took advantage of her freedom from her parents, instructing her maids to keep only within hearing distance, but not within Addy’s sight, and only keeping one body guard close to her. She knew that she was very safe here; they weren’t having the peasant problems that her parents were. And though it probably wasn’t nice to think it, Simon was sometimes glad that her parents were having such difficulties. It meant that Addy stayed with them more often. For her safety, of course.

Simon grinned teasingly, “Alfred wants me to jilt you and go on a quest for a princess.”

Addy burst into laughter at the thought of Alfred suggesting anything so preposterous. “Oh really?” She pinched Simon’s arm, “Did you tell him that I’d chop your head off if you did that?”

“Maybe that would make him happy though,” Simon said, “Then I could go on a quest for a witch who would put my head back on.”

“And how would you walk without a head?” Addy asked.

“Oh, I’d hold it in front of me like this,” he demonstrated, circling his arms in front of him so that it looked like had had something huge and heavy in them, “And then I’d be able to see perfectly well.”

“So you don’t think you’d die like normal people?”

“Of course not. The quest would protect me, if it wanted me to be the heir.”

Addy shook her head in amusement, “That Quest is so ridiculous. What is the purpose of it?”

“To protect the throne and make sure the heir is worthy,” Simon stated robotically, citing the lesson he’d learned since birth.

Addy frowned, “You had some strange ancestors Simon. Just because Quaxerlus thought his Quest made a man of him didn’t mean he had to impose it on all his descendants.”

“That’s what I say, but no one believes me,” he looked at Addy, “Because I’m not officially the heir yet.”

“Pssh,” Addy waived her hand in dismissalnows it will be you.”

“What if I don’t go?” he asked Addy curiously. He’d never really suggested that to her before. She knew he didn’t want to go, but he suspected that like everyone else, she figured he’d go eventually, or else the Quest will find him.

Addy shrugged, “I don’t care one way or the other. Personally, Simon, I’d go before it found you. But if its not meant to, then I suppose it wont. And then we’ll just rule my kingdom, you’re your cousin shall rule yours.”

“And your father would approve?’ Simon raised an eyebrow.

Addy smiled serenely, “Not exactly. But he won’t want to risk your father’s enmity either.”

“Politics,” Simon said with a sigh, leaning against the back of the bench they were sitting on.

Addy nodded in agreement. “Politics, Simon. All part of being a king.”

“Joy.”

“I know, it just thrills you, doesn’t it?” Addy smiled down at him.

“Let’s not talk about it anymore,” Simon suggested. He’d have to meet with his father about ti soon enough. The King was very concerned that Simon’s 21st birthday was approaching, and Simon had a feeling he’d have to do a lot of talking that afternoon. “Let’s just talk about nonsense, like old times.”

“Hmm, like the philosophies of Gregorias, self-proclaimed redeemer of wrongs?”

“Exactly,” Simon replied cheerfully. They sent the rest of the morning happily in debate over the merits of righting wrongs that some people didn’t consider wrong at all. That was the sort of thing Simon liked- philosophical debate. He sometimes thought it’d be nice if one day he was known as the Philosopher King. That is, if he ever was king.