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[Location: Godfrey Estate - Godfrey Palace]
[Date: July 15, y. 485 of the Fourth Age]
"Cannonball!"
Zeke ran down the old wooden dock and jumped high into the air.
He tucked his knees tight against his chest, wrapped his arms around them, and grinned as he fell toward the lake. The splash was impressive, sending water shooting up several feet and scaring a pair of ducks that had been floating nearby.
He stayed underwater for a moment, feeling the coolness surround him. This lake had been his refuge since childhood. Where Artax had first taught him to swim.
His place when everyone else was busy with "important things," Zeke would slip away to swim.
He pushed deeper, looking for treasures on the lake bottom before his lungs started burning.
With a strong kick, he shot back to the surface.
Zeke shook the water from his hair and looked toward the shore where Madeline was watching. She wore a simple green dress that matched the surrounding trees, and she was laughing at his display.
"That was quite a splash!" she called, clapping her hands. "Though I think you scared half the wildlife in the area."
"That's the point!" Zeke replied, treading water. "Come on in! The water's perfect today."
"In my dress? I don't think so." Madeline gathered her skirts a bit higher from the damp grass. "Besides, I can't swim."
"You can't swim?" Zeke was genuinely surprised. "But you've lived near the river your whole life."
"My father forbade it after my cousin nearly drowned when we were children," she explained with a shrug. "Not everyone has a private lake to practice in."
"Well, that's something we need to fix," Zeke said. "Everyone should know how to swim."
"Not today, Lord Zeke," Madeline replied with a teasing smile.
"I'm not a lord," he corrected automatically. "Just the second son. Artax is the heir, the future lord and I wish him well with all that responsibility."
Madeline's expression softened, but before she could respond, Zeke ducked underwater again. He swam toward the deeper part of the lake, where he knew something that might impress her.
Zeke had discovered years ago that certain spots in the lake had freshwater clams.
Most were empty, but sometimes you could find pearls inside them. As he got older and started bringing more girls from the village to the lake, he'd made an arrangement with the village jeweler. For a small fee, would provide him with pearls that Zeke could "discover" in clams he'd prepared ahead of time.
But for Madeline, he wanted to find a real one.
He scanned the muddy bottom, fingers working through the silt with practiced ease. His lungs started to burn again, but just before he had to surface, his hand closed around what he was looking for. He grabbed the clam and kicked up, breaking through the water with a gasp.
Swimming back to shore, he saw Madeline watching him with concern.
"What happened? You were under for so long," she said as he waded out of the water.
"I was looking for something," Zeke replied, water dripping from his clothes. He hadn't bothered taking them off before jumping in, which would definitely annoy Sampson later. The thought made him smile.
"What did you find?" Madeline asked, curiosity replacing concern.
Zeke held out his hand, showing her the mud-covered clam. "A gift from Lake Godfrey."
"A... dirty shell?" She looked unimpressed.
"Not the shell," Zeke laughed. "What might be inside."
Understanding dawned on her face. "A pearl? Really?"
"Let's find out," he said, kneeling by the water to clean off the mud.
Once the shell was clean, he started working at the opening, applying pressure in just the right spot.
"Won't that kill it?" Madeline asked, kneeling beside him despite the risk to her dress.
The question surprised him. Most visitors never worried about a clam's fate. "Not if we're careful," he said, though he wasn't entirely sure. "We can put it back afterward."
She nodded and leaned closer to watch. Her shoulder touched his, and despite his wet clothes, he felt a warmth spread through him.
"Here," he said, his voice a little rough. "You try."
He guided her hands to the shell, showing her where to press. Her fingers were warm against his, strong yet gentle from years of working in her father's bakery.
"Gentle but firm," he instructed. "Like this."
Together they worked at the shell until, with a satisfying pop, it opened. Madeline let out a small gasp.
"There's really one in there!"
In the center of the clam lay a small, slightly uneven pearl. Unlike the perfect ones Zeke sometimes bought from the jeweler, this one was natural, a bit odd shaped and with an uneven surface. It wasn't large, but it had character.
"It's beautiful," Madeline said softly, touching it with a fingertip.
"It's yours," Zeke said, carefully taking the pearl and placing it in her palm. "A real treasure from the lake."
Her eyes met his, searching. "Real? You swear it?"
Zeke felt his face grow warm. Did she know about his pearl tricks? Did the village girls talk about him?
"I swear it," he said firmly. "I didn't know for sure there would be one. It was luck."
She studied him for a moment, then closed her fingers around the pearl. "Thank you, Zeke. I'll keep it safe."
He gently returned the clam to the water. "May you make many more," he said to the sinking shell.
"Do you do this often?" Madeline asked as they walked away from the shore. "Find pearls to impress girls from the village?"
Zeke nearly tripped over a root. "What makes you think—"
"Brigid showed me hers last month," Madeline said with a knowing smile. "Perfect and round as a dewdrop, she said. Amazing how you found it 'just by chance' that day."
Caught, Zeke sighed dramatically and pressed a hand to his chest. "You wound me deeply. Are you saying I'm not the luckiest pearl-finder in all the kingdoms?"
"I'm saying," she replied, tucking her pearl into a small pocket in her dress, "that this one means more because it wasn't planned."
Before Zeke could respond, a servant appeared with a picnic basket. Zeke nodded to him, pointing to a clearing under a large oak tree. The servant went to set up their meal while Zeke guided Madeline that way.
"You planned this," she said, though she sounded pleased.
"I had hopes," he admitted. "Though I didn't expect to be exposed as a fake pearl-hunter."
The servant had spread a blanket under the tree and placed the basket in the center before quietly leaving. Zeke helped Madeline sit down, suddenly aware of how wet his clothes still were.
"Should you change?" she asked, noticing his dripping shirt and pants. "You'll catch cold."
"And miss a minute with you? Never," Zeke said, though he did wring out his sleeves. "Besides, it gives Sampson something new to lecture me about, and he loves his lectures."
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Zeke opened the basket with exaggerated flair. "Let's see what we have today." He pulled out a wrapped bottle. "Wine from the palace cellars. Year 437 of the Fourth Age."
"A special vintage?" Madeline asked with a hint of skepticism.
Zeke paused, remembering that someone in her family worked with the village winemaker. Instead of his usual exaggeration, he examined the bottle honestly.
"Actually, it's pretty ordinary," he admitted. "But good company makes even simple wine taste better, don't you think?"
Her smile grew at his honesty. "I think you're right."
He uncorked the bottle and poured two glasses, then raised his in a toast. "To real treasures and unexpected finds."
"To second sons who occasionally tell the truth," she countered, tapping her glass against his.
The wine was as ordinary as he admitted, a bit tart with hints of berries, but Zeke didn't mind. They ate the cheese, fruit, and bread from the basket while talking easily. Madeline told him about her father's bakery, the early mornings, and the satisfaction of creating something people needed. Zeke shared stories about growing up in the palace, carefully avoiding topics like his father or his brother's achievements.
They were comfortably silent when a sharp crack came from the nearby trees. Zeke turned quickly toward the sound.
"What was that?" Madeline asked, setting down her wine.
Zeke stood up, scanning the forest edge. The estate had walls around it, but parts had crumbled over the years. Wild animals sometimes got in—usually harmless ones, but occasionally something dangerous.
"Stay here," he said, taking a step toward the trees.
Before he could investigate, a large wild turkey strutted out from the bushes. Its tail feathers were spread wide in an impressive fan, and several smaller turkeys followed behind it.
"Oh!" Madeline relaxed and smiled. "Look at him, he's like a king with his court!"
"Or Queen," Zeke agreed, watching the bird's confident walk.
Something about the turkey's commanding presence bothered him. The way the other birds followed it, the unquestioned authority—it reminded him too much of Artax. His brother moved through the world with that same confidence, commanding respect without even trying. Even the servants always looked to Artax first.
His brother was, for all things, a hero.
"He's magnificent," Madeline said, not noticing Zeke's darkening mood. "We rarely see them so close to the village."
"They're smart birds," Zeke said, trying to sound casual. "Too smart to go where they might end up on a dinner table."
The turkeys moved on, disappearing into the trees as quietly as they'd appeared. Zeke and Madeline returned to their picnic, but the easy feeling was gone, at least for Zeke. As Madeline ate a peach, she watched him carefully.
"Tell me about your brother," she said. "The stories in the village make him sound like a legend."
Zeke held back a grimace. Even here, Artax's shadow found him. "What do you want to know?"
"Is it true he killed the Beast of Many-Fangs with just a wooden training sword?"
"It was a real sword," Zeke corrected, "and the 'beast' was just a large boar that was causing trouble in the southern villages." He picked at a loose thread on the blanket. "Still impressive, since he was only fifteen."
"And did he really save Duke Thalridge's daughter from bandits while disguised as a regular traveler?"
"That one's mostly true," Zeke admitted. "Though the 'bandits' were former soldiers, and he had two squires with him, not that anyone remembers their names."
Madeline tilted her head. "You don't like these stories."
It wasn't a question, and Zeke didn't treat it as one. Instead, he leaned back against the tree trunk, looking up at the branches above. "Did you know there's a statue of Artax in the main square in the capital? They made it when he was twenty-three, after he finished the 34 Trials faster than anyone before him. He stands twelve feet tall in bronze, next to statues of heroes twice his age."
"And there isn't one of you," Madeline said quietly.
"Why would there be?" Zeke shrugged. "What have I done worth making a statue of? I'm good at swimming, but I doubt that's enough for the royal sculptors."
"Not everyone needs to be a hero," she said simply.
"Absolutely, I'm content to drink my families wine with good company" Zeke took a breath, forcing his usual carefree smile. "But enough about my famous brother. Would you like to see something special? The statue garden is beautiful this time of year."
Madeline clearly saw through his attempt to change the subject, but she nodded anyway. "I'd like that."
They packed up the picnic, and Zeke led her toward the palace. The huge stone building stood at the center of the estate, surrounded by gardens that had once been the pride of the kingdom. Now, like most of the estate, they showed signs of neglect, still beautiful, but clearly fading.
They walked through a rusty gate into a flower garden full of blooms in every color. Ivy covered the walls, and bees moved busily among the flowers. Zeke picked a striking red and black flower, rare outside the royal gardens, and gave it to Madeline with an exaggerated bow.
"My lady," he said in his best court voice.
She took the flower with an equally theatrical curtsy. "My lord is too kind."
He guided her toward another archway almost hidden by hanging vines.
They came out into the statue garden, and Madeline stopped in her tracks, clearly amazed.
Dozens of marble and stone figures filled the large space, knights in battle poses, nobles standing formally, mythical creatures frozen in motion.
Many showed signs of age: a warrior missing an arm, a horse without a leg, and several so covered in moss and vines that you could barely tell what they were supposed to be. Still, the overall effect was impressive.
In the center was a small fountain fed by the same stream that supplied the lake. Its basin had cracks, letting small streams of water escape, but it still worked, with water spraying up from the stone fish at its center.
Zeke sat on the edge of the fountain, running his fingers through the water. "What do you think?"
"It's amazing," Madeline said, walking slowly around a stone griffin. "Like stepping into an old story."
"Or ruins," Zeke added, watching her.
"Not ruins, history," she corrected, stopping at a statue of a knight with a raised sword. "Each one has a story. What was this place like when these were new?"
Zeke shrugged, leaning back against the fountain. His tutors had tried to teach him House Godfrey's history, but he'd usually been planning ways to escape to the lake instead of listening.
"The basics are simple," he said, watching her trace the stone shield with her fingers. "A hundred years ago, during the barbarian wars, House Godfrey sent all their sons to battle. Only one came back alive."
"Just one?" Madeline's hand stopped moving.
"My great-grandfather," Zeke nodded. "And every Godfrey daughter had been married off to make alliances with other houses. Our family network fell apart."
"You lost all the aunts, uncles, and cousins that make up a noble house," Madeline said, showing a surprising understanding of how noble families worked.
"Exactly," he said, making patterns in the fountain water with his finger. "The surviving branches grew distant from the main line, and House Godfrey started its slow decline." He gestured at the crumbling statues around them. "My great-grandfather married a commoner, a choice many called cursed when she died after having just one son. My grandfather had only two children before his wife had a riding accident.
He paused. "And my mother died right after I was born."
"The curse of House Godfrey," Madeline said softly. "I've heard traders talk about it in the village." She hesitated. "And the 34 Trials? They say no Godfrey had completed them since the curse began."
"Until Artax," Zeke confirmed, standing up and moving to a moss-covered statue. He brushed away some of the green, revealing a stern face he couldn't name. "Artax, slayer of beasts, savior of maidens, and all-around perfect knight."
"You admire him?" She asked.
Zeke nodded. "Yes."
"Will you try the Trials?" she asked quietly.
Zeke laughed, though something inside him stirred at the question. "Not likely. My path was decided when I was born."
He spread his arms wide. "Artax becomes the head of the family, defender of the realm, restorer of Godfrey glory. I marry well and have lots of children, as many as possible, to keep the family line going. Not a bad life, really."
As soon as he said it, he knew he'd made a mistake.
Madeline went still, her expression cooling.
"I see," she said carefully. "So a baker's daughter wouldn't count as 'marrying well.'"
Zeke stepped toward her, suddenly panicked. "Madeline, that's not, I mean, my great-grandfather married a commoner, things are different now, but!"
She shook her head, cutting him off. "I should get back to the village before dark."
"Please," he said, reaching for her hand. "I didn't mean, I'm sorry."
"Didn't you?" She pulled her hand away, though she seemed more resigned than angry. "I'm not offended, Zeke. We both knew what this was. A nice afternoon. A pretty pearl. A memory."
She started walking toward the garden exit, and Zeke felt the moment slipping away. "Madeline, wait!"
"Strike out again, young master?"
Zeke turned to find Sampson stepping out from behind some vines, the old steward looking somewhere between disapproving and amused.
"Are you spying on me now?" Zeke responded with a groan.
"Just making sure the young master doesn't get into situations requiring, careful handling," Sampson replied, brushing leaves from his perfect uniform.
He glanced toward Madeline's retreating figure. "Shall I escort the young lady back to the village?"
"No," Zeke snapped. "She doesn't need an escort, and I don't need a keeper."
"Evidence suggests otherwise," Sampson said dryly. "Your reputation in the village grows with each girl you disappoint. The estate's position is already fragile, complications would be unwise."
"We're already dying out," Zeke said, gesturing at the crumbling statues around them. "Might as well enjoy the ride down."
"That is not for you to decide," Sampson replied, his tone firmer than usual. "Your brother returns tonight. Perhaps you should prepare yourself rather than chasing village girls."
Zeke felt like he'd been dunked back in the cold lake. "Artax is coming home? Today? Why didn't anyone tell me?"
"I'm telling you now," Sampson said simply. "Meet me on the western wall one hour after sunset. You'll have the best view of his approach from there."
He paused, looking Zeke up and down. "Unless you'd prefer to greet him soaking wet and smelling of lake water?"
"No, I don't, I'll get ready." Zeke replied
Sampson nodded and left the way he'd come, disappearing behind the vines.
Alone in the statue garden, surrounded by the worn remains of Godfrey glory, Zeke felt suddenly empty.
He walked to the tallest statue, a knight on horseback with sword raised high, and looked up at the worn face.
Time had erased the details, leaving only a suggestion of features. Was this how people would remember House Godfrey? Faceless figures slowly crumbling away?
Or would Artax's legend save them all, his brightness pulling their house out of its decline.
Zeke turned away, walking through the palace grounds with no real destination in mind. He thought about Madeline, about the real pearl in her pocket, about the moment between them.
Maybe that was his true talent, not swimming or finding pearls, but ruining the moment.
******
That evening, just before dusk, he found himself back at the lake.
On the small island with its old, broken gazebo, a bird stood watching, white against the growing darkness.
Zeke sat down at the edge of the dock, feet dangling in the cool water. Soon, Artax would ride through the gates, no doubt returning from some heroic mission that would add to his legend.
The palace would be full of excitement, the servants would rush around, and Father would come out of his study to welcome home his firstborn son.
And Zeke? He would stand in the background.
A flickering light caught his attention, not stars, but torches, coming up from the village road toward the estate. Banners fluttered from poles, though it was too dark and far away to see what was on them.
Only knights traveled like that at this hour—and House Godfrey had only one knight worth such an escort.
Artax was coming home.
Zeke stood up slowly, drying his feet on the dock before putting his boots back on. It was time to put on the mask he wore so well—the carefree second son, without ambition or jealousy, content to live in his brother's shadow.
After all, what was one more performance in a lifetime of playing a part he never chose?
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