The Exiled Gem

That Lady with Golden Eyes

'Ariston. Nobody has any idea who his parents are, where he's from, where he goes, what he does. For all I can say, he is a mystic. Or was, at least. Through his wanderings, he came to Idgard. And after a lot of persuasion, agreed to teach me. Philosophy, perhaps, because that was what he did. So when I was fourteen - on a leafless September day - I was finally shut in a study with him. But by that time, I had ideas of my own. Point blank, I refused to learn from him. I told him that I went by my own intelligence. That I formed my own philosophies. And in response, I was ready to hear demeaning words, reproach and chastising - as any other philosopher would have meted out. But he only laughed. And a laugh that would make your hair stand on end. It was utterly humorless. But, Ariston ... I will never forget that name. His haggard beard and oily forehead - small eyes and a crooked nose. When he laughed - perfect, shining teeth. "That is right, young prince," he agreed, "you seem to know a thing or two." And I knew he was provoking me. Mystics are always like that: scary, instigating and complicated. But when I did not react, he just nodded approvingly. All the more approvingly. 

'He got up and walked around that room, his hands behind his back. He knew my eyes were following him, and so he stopped in front of the window. Right behind him shone the sun, such that I had no choice but to lower my gaze. That gave him some pleasure. But it didn't satisfy him - and so, he began showing his omniscience. "Let me guess," he started, rather amicably, much like the calm before the storm. "You are uncommonly skilled. A natural talent? Yes, why not. You were pretty useless to this country till the age of ... five, yes. It was five. And the only way the ministers spared you a thought, was when they speculated you committing fratricide for the throne. Then, the first time you showed your worth, or showed your wrath - let's say, it ended with your elder brother's murder. And what do I see - you still carry that trauma! Understandable - that I can digest. Ah, you've just got better at hiding it. And then ... why do you hide those scars? Wear them up your sleeves, Prince - come on, the fact that you were abused, is not your fault. Is it? Or maybe you think it is mortifying - and if so, I don't blame you. And I see quite many untold stories ache within you. Now, don't fret. You are destined for a confidant - and she will show you what love is. But that is a long way - a long, long way. You might not even remember my words till then. As for now ... you enjoy dueling, don't you? How many heads have you shaven? Thirty? Oh, you didn't count. Not to worry, I shall tell you - no less than three hundred sixty one heads, in truth. Master Liam, I see." And you must know how utterly aghast I was to hear all that. How could he know? Was there true omniscience in him - a short, unkempt man? I had no idea - and Alexandra, unless he was making wild guesses - he mentioned you. And that is what is happening here, that is what we are doing right now. But then, it was a nightmare - one by one he counted off incidents. Ones that even I had forgotten. At the end of it, when he abandoned the window - I saw the glint in his eyes. No, not malice. Not contempt. Just pure superiority. And then, he decided he had played enough - oh yes, it was play to him. He did teach, a lot in a single line. He said that he knew I would do this and that great things, but that in the end, I must always remember there is somebody better than me. I see it everyday before me: a thousand things I should be proud of and should pat my back on - but why?! There is somebody better out there, and for all I know, I should improve myself.'

'So that is how you are Mr. Perfect!' Alexandra exclaimed, and then forgot to close her mouth. The uncouth was worth it - who in the world did not know that there was somebody better than them? Of course, everybody did. But did everybody work on as much improvement? In the remotest corners of their lives, in the smallest aspect of their routines? Did everybody show as much willpower?

Perhaps that, was the difference. The reason the world was not such a good place, after all.

'That is what I am telling you, Miss Confidant,' he replied, putting a hand to knee, 'I am not Mr. Perfect. I never have been, and never will be. I am the stupid, albeit likeable Liam you said I was. And nobody has ever described me so perfectly in just two words.'