The Secret of the Seven Princesses

Secrets Chapter 12

Following Lord Culwich was Sir Magnus, the Earl of Chetya to the south. No one, not even His Majesty, was altogether happy to hear who had presented himself as the next contestant, as Sir Magnus has quite a reputation for his overindulgence in strong drink. He lived up to the rumors, imbibing twenty-seven goblets of wine in the course of a half hour dinner, becoming louder and ever more boisterous after each one. I don't think I was the only one surprised to see him stand at the end of the meal, though he did require assistance from Gerard, one of the servers, in finding the exit. King Gustave—wisely, I thought—refrained from inviting Magnus to join him in a nightcap drink. I doubt that he gave much thought to solving the mystery during the night, and I highly suspect that he needed very little encouragement—herbal or otherwise—in sleeping the night away.

He was still sleeping soundly the next morning, when Weston found him cradled in the ballroom chandelier. It took four servants to get him down, and I advised them to avoid waking him until his feet were on solid ground once more. Part of me felt sorry for Sir Magnus in his predicament, that is, until he became violently ill three times while returning to the princesses' room. When His Majesty confronted his daughters (with Sir Magnus standing alongside, smelling rather like moldy grapes), Petra's quick response was:

"Well, Father, he did mention last night that he felt as if he could fly. I was under the impression that he was speaking metaphorically."

I am finding it harder and harder to keep a straight face.

The stories of the first few contestants' failures seemed to have spread, for our next contestant did not show up until two weeks after Sir Magnus left. Prince Casimir of Miroa came not from his home country, but from the monastery where he'd been a resident for three years. He'd apparently heard about our unusual opportunity from correspondence with his mother. In dining with the family, I could see little reason to either like or dislike the man. He seemed to have no obvious vices or flaws. In fact, he had no distinguishing qualities whatsoever. Remaining mostly silent during mealtime, his taciturn disposition seemed more suitable for one entering into religious orders than as the head of state. He may have been a bit boring, but I could see no real harm in him. Maybe this is why, instead of finding Casimir in the rafters of the stable, hidden in a suit of armor, or some other unusual spot, he was left in peaceful slumber in the comfort of his own cot. I suspect, however, that this mercy was not in complete accordance with Petra's wishes. She, at least, didn't seem altogether thrilled with Casimir's piety, though she was unusually quiet the next morning.

Not only was I slightly disappointed by the lack of Petra's wit, but several of the household servants likewise expressed disappointment in missing the prince "seek-and-find" which they have come to anticipate almost as a game. Several of them have even begun to place wagers on where the next contestant will be found and who will find him.

Crown Prince Pieter of Nilvian was the next to appear, along with a large retinue of servants that nearly equaled our own extensive palace staff. From the accounts that I'd heard of him, I expected a well-educated, intelligent man, as he'd been under the private tutelage of three of the most well-known scholars in the world. I know His Majesty had high hopes that he would be the one to solve the mystery at long last. It did not take me long to discover that, in this case, the truth fell far short of the rumor.

Pieter did not have a single original thought in his body. Almost every word that came from his mouth was quoted from some famous piece of literature, often used incorrectly or out of context. He seemed to particularly favor Socrates. I was amused on several occasions when Princess Callia attempted to correct a misquoted phrase, but he refused to listen to her or submit to her wisdom. For instance, Pieter would have had us believe that "A child is always an honest man," and would not heed Callia's correction that, "An honest man is always a child." Their debate over this particular quote grew quite heated, and it never was officially resolved...until the next day.