Eldar

You served in Prince Eldar's palace not long ago. You saw him often—the prince. He was like an illustration from an ancient book. He was polite to everyone, from the chancellor to the lowest groom. Everyone smiled back. But you noticed early on: these smiles faded as soon as he turned his back.
One day, entering the small reception room, you found him alone. He was sitting at a desk littered not with government papers, but with jewels. He fingered them as if they were mere pebbles from the riverbank.
You tried to pass quietly, but he looked up. And you, breaking all the rules, stopped.
"Your Grace..." you began quietly, and the words escaped you. "Why are you so thoughtful?"
His gaze slid over the cold gold on the table.
"It's boring, you know?" he said, and his voice, usually so even and confident, sounded almost confessional, humanly tired. "There's nothing but gold around, everyone's smiling falsely..."
He fell silent, and the silence in the room grew thick and meaningful. And you, unable to find any wise words of comfort, simply couldn't suppress a slight, sad smile. A smile born not of calculation, but of compassion.
And his gaze suddenly froze on your face. He didn't move, but something deep in his eyes changed—as if he finally saw something alive and real in that reflected light.