The little prince turned his steps toward the world of the great ones, where wealth and power gathered like moths around a flame. Word had reached him of a great banquet in one of the noble houses, and by one means or another he found his way within. Whether he was recognised as the son of the King or slipped in among the lesser guests mattered little. What mattered was the scene that met his eyes.
The hall was ablaze with light from a thousand candles. Tables groaned under the weight of roasted meats, rare fruits, and wines poured from golden vessels. Music played, sweet and languorous, while men and women in rich silks laughed too loudly and touched too freely. There a group drank deep, their faces flushed, boasting of conquests both in battle and in private intimate matters. The air was thick with the scent of perfume and roasted flesh, and beneath it all lay a deeper corruption that made the little prince's spirit recoil.
He moved among them with care, choosing his moments. When he found a cluster of lords and ladies who seemed less drunk than the rest, he spoke quietly, yet with the urgency of one who carries a burden too heavy for his years. He did not speak openly of angels at first. Instead he spoke of a warning that had come to him, of a great plague that God in His sorrow might send upon the land because of the hardness of men's hearts. "Selfishness devours us," he said. "Cruelty and unchecked pleasure blind us. There is yet mercy offered, if we will but receive it."
He drew forth the crystal vial at last, letting its pure light shine softly in the midst of their revelry. "Whoever drinks of this before the appointed day shall be spared. I have seen the messenger who brought it. The time is short."
For a moment some faces grew still. Then the mockery and the greed rose up as quickly as the laughter at a jest.
One portly lord, his cheeks red with wine, threw back his head and roared. "Ten years from now, you say? Who among us troubles himself with such distant clouds? Let the plague come when it will. Today we eat, we drink, we take our pleasure. The morrow can fend for itself!"
A lady with jewels flashing at her throat leaned forward, her eyes bright with calculation rather than faith. "Such a pretty trinket. Name your price, young prince. Gold, lands, even a title if you wish it. Surely this bottle can be bought and sold like any other treasure."
Another, sharper and more suspicious, narrowed his eyes. "This has the smell of some deeper game. Are you weaving plots for your father's throne, or has some enemy whispered these tales in your ear to sow fear among us? We are not easily deceived by children's stories."
All around them the feast continued unabated. A couple slipped away into the shadows of a curtained alcove, their laughter low and shameless. A singer raised his voice in a song that celebrated fleeting delights and mocked virtue as dullness. The little prince watched it all with a growing heaviness in his breast.
He had expected pride, perhaps, or careful questioning. What he found instead was a profound emptiness wrapped in silk and gold. These were the men and women who ruled the kingdom, who held the lives of thousands in their hands, yet their eyes saw nothing beyond the next cup of wine or the next caress. A wave of disgust rose in him, mingled with a deep and sorrowful pity. They only live for the present, he thought, yet they know not that the end draws near. How can men be so blind when the warning is given?
He tried once more, speaking with all the earnestness of his soul, but their laughter only grew louder. Some turned away as though he were a madman. Others offered him more wine, thinking to cure what they called his melancholy.
At last the little prince withdrew from the bright hall, his heart aching within him. The crystal vial felt heavier now, as though it carried not only the mercy of Heaven but the weight of man's refusal. Never had he seen the angel's words proved so clearly. The selfishness of the poor had been born of desperation. Here among the rich it was born of plenty, and that seemed far worse.
As he stepped out into the cold night air, a new thought came to him like a quiet voice in the darkness. There remained one place where men still spoke of higher things, where prayer and sacred words were not yet wholly forgotten. The great cathedral of the kingdom stood not far away, its towers pointing upward as though in perpetual appeal to Heaven.
"I will go there," he said softly to himself. "Perhaps among those who serve God daily I may find understanding and counsel. Surely the Church will know what to do with such a gift."
With weary steps but a heart that still refused to surrender, the little prince turned toward the house of prayer, seeking light where the halls of power had offered only shadow.
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