Chapter 5 Eldredge Kneels Before His New Master
1192 Words
"I may not be Confucius or Mencius," Eldredge boasted, stroking his beard with smug satisfaction, "but I'm not far behind."
"Care to put your money where your mouth is?" Elvis challenged, arms crossed with a cocky grin.
"Pitting wits against a child?" Eldredge scoffed, nostrils flaring. "There's no glory in beating a mere boy." His glare screamed: Apologize now, or regret it.
"Is the mighty Eldredge... afraid?" Empress Vallier stepped beside Elvis, backing her son despite expecting his defeat.
"Merely stating the obvious—such a victory would be meaningless," Eldredge huffed.
"Win, and I'll be your model student," Elvis jabbed a finger forward. "But lose? You'll kneel and call me Master." He puffed his chest like a conquering hero.
"Hmph! What challenge does the Crown Prince propose?"
"Couplets—your specialty. That way, no excuses when you lose."
"Then let His Majesty and Her Majesty bear witness!" Eldredge groaned as he struggled upright, bowing stiffly to Denny.
"Agreed." "Certainly."
"Best of three. Your move, Your Highness." Eldredge pushed off the floor with a grunt, joints creaking.
"Don't mind if I do—" Elvis' lips curled—those poetry clubs in his past life paid off. "First line: *The endless Yangtze, spring-drenched in whispers of rain.*"
Eldredge frowned for half a minute before brightening. "*A millennium-old sword, winter's fury in crashing waves.*"
"Well played!" The old scholar conceded grudgingly. "You've studied deeper than I expected. That nearly bested me."
After pondering, Eldredge countered: "*Winding, coiling, the serpentine path.*"
Elvis fired back instantly: "*Pitted and hollowed, the cavernous mountain.*"
"Now for the masterstroke!" The prince's grin turned wolfish. "*Twisting, turning, to and fro, blooms and brooks, hills and nooks, hearts aflutter, eyes ever searching.*"
Eldredge's initial confidence melted. He clawed at his scalp as if the answer might be buried there, face contorting through disbelief and despair.
"Your Highness..." He exhaled in defeat. "I yield—this old man's mind is blank. Enlighten me."
"It's quite straightforward, really," Elvis said airily. "The matching line goes: 'Year after year, dusk after dawn, rain and phoenix, orioles and swallows, thoughts coming and going, forever verdant and crimson.'"
"Here's the deal," he continued with a playful glint. "I'll give you one final challenge. Match this couplet and our wager is void. The first line: 'A monk paints lotus flowers on canvas.'"
Eldredge pondered deeply but found no answer. This boy is truly a genius, he marveled. Learning from such talent would bring no disgrace.
"This old man admits defeat," Eldredge proclaimed, lowering himself painfully to his knees. "Master, please accept this disciple's humble bow."
"Master Eldredge, rise!" Denny hurried to assist him—though secretly pleased. Ever since Eldredge had proposed that ill-advised marriage alliance with Nerathis (as if it were his own daughter being offered!), Denny had wanted to put him in his place.
"Hold on! I can't possibly accept this!" Elvis protested with mock seriousness. "If we're doing this properly, shouldn't there be tea?"
Eldredge seized a teacup and knelt again. "Wisdom recognizes no seniority. Master, accept your student's reverence."
Elvis drained the cup in one gulp. "Very well. Since you show such sincerity, I'll accept you as a provisional disciple."
Denny and Seraphina exchanged silent glances. Elvis's couplets were masterpieces—any court scholar wishing to criticize him would need to match such brilliance first.
"Next time you want me memorizing texts, Father," Elvis called over his shoulder, "find a tutor who actually knows something!" With that, he strode out, hands clasped behind his back, Eldredge scrambling after him like a crab.
"Master! Wait for me—my back aches!"
"No lessons today. Go rest." Elvis swung onto his horse and rode off without a backward glance.
"Wait! Master!" Eldredge called desperately, legs churning despite his protesting joints. "That final couplet—what's the solution?"
"Three answers fit your riddle," the prince called over his shoulder. "First: 'Embroidered drapes sway in painted towers where curtains sway.' Second: 'Where sky kisses water's end, water mirrors sky without end.' Third: 'Han scripts inspire the scholar's hand that copies Han.'" With that, he dug his heels—hooves thundered—and his steed vanished in a whirl of dust.
"A master beyond compare! This defeat humbles me rightly!" Eldredge pressed his forehead to the ground three times, each strike shaking the earth with ceremonial weight.
Next morning found Prince Elvis still abed when the sun hung high. Outside, Eldredge hovered like a chastened ghost, not daring to cough.
"Well, old man," Elvis mumbled around a mouthful of porridge. "Pick your poison—I'm feeling charitable today."
"This unworthy disciple lives only to learn from Master's wisdom," Eldredge whispered, every muscle tensed in obedience.
"Tell me, disciple—ever heard of 'Mencius's Mother Moves Thrice'?"
Thud! Eldredge's knees hit the floor. "Master! No emperor of that name graces my poor studies—"
Crash! Elvis's chopsticks shattered against the tiles. "I asked about the mother who moved three times for her son's education, not some imaginary ruler!"
"But the Four Books and Five Classics never—"
"Three moves! To find proper teachers for Mencius!" The prince's voice cracked with disbelief. "You call yourself a scholar?"
Eldredge's face folded like crumpled parchment. "Master's brilliance illuminates even the dullest stone!" In this world where teachers held life-and-death power over pupils, his groveling came as naturally as breath.
"Enough! Help me up—we're off." The prince's hand jutted out like a royal scepter. Eldredge scrambled to offer his arm.
"Onward, Little Castrate!"
"Master!" Eldredge's whisper turned desperate. "That name sounds distressingly like..." His voice trailed off, cheeks burning.
"Are you defying your master?"
"I wouldn't dare! Master, where are we headed?"
"Heh, not far. You'll see soon enough." A wicked grin spread across Elvis's face.
Despite his age, Eldredge kept pace, and soon they reached the front courtyard where a dozen young eunuchs scurried like ants, hauling crates of charcoal inside.
Elvis strode to the center, crouched to fiddle with something, and carefully placed a cluster of bamboo tubes on the ground. With a jerk of his chin, he barked, "Ignite them, little turtle!" then bolted to safety with dramatic flourish.
"Master, please—spare me this lesson!" Eldredge's beard bristled with fear. Rumor said these devices caused the great fire at Aurelia Palace. At his age, a blast could shatter his old bones!
"'Knowledge untested by practice remains shallow; true mastery requires doing!'" Elvis intoned, striking a sage pose. "'Ten thousand miles walked teach more than ten thousand pages read!' What use is a scholar who only memorizes texts?"
Eldredge's eyes widened. Clasping his hands, he bowed deeply. "Your wisdom humbles this unworthy disciple." With the determination of a man walking to the gallows, he pulled out a flint striker and crept toward the firecrackers.
BANG-BANG-BANG-BANG!!
The explosions tore through the air. While the eunuchs barely flinched, Eldredge toppled onto his rear, blurting, "Bloody hell!" He immediately slapped his mouth—such vulgarity from a refined scholar!
"Fine work. These improved versions strike harder." Elvis dusted his hands. "Lesson's done, little turtle." He strolled off, leaving Eldredge shell-shocked and mumbling to himself amid the sulfurous haze.
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