The Duke stood there, dressed in a long-sleeved smock and trousers that were once white, but had become gray with years of accumulated dust and filth.

Blinking, he covered his eyes from the light of my lantern. Seeing that the light was bothering him, and half-frightened myself I slowly lowered the lantern to the ground. In the light that it gave off, I was finally able to see his face for the first time when he lowered his hand from his face.

He was young, perhaps ten years my junior and extremely thin, downright emaciated that made his heads, hands and feet seem disproportionately large in comparison to the thinness of his neck, wrists, and ankles. His forehead was slightly stooped, what used to be called a Philosopher's brow, giving him an uncommon appearance. His skin was a pale hue, as though it had never seen the sun or he suffered from malnourishment – probably both. His cheeks were lean, mouth long and flexible. The muscles on his left arm were more developed than his left, giving his shoulders a tilted, crooked look.

But he did indeed look like his brother, the aquiline nose and firm jaw and blue eyes - watery that they were – the same shade as the king's, set deep in their sockets to give him a strange, staring expression. He had a thin, ragged beard, unshaven, not a noble brush of kingly curls as his brother wore now. I was not surprised that he was taller than me; most people that I encountered were, but he was quite taller than average, exceeding the height of his brother, though not as tall as the Chancellor.

I will say this about him. He was very unsightly, some would even call him ugly. But he was very far from the monster I had been expecting.

"Your highness," I said, and gave a short bow. Despite his appearance and apparent imprisonment, I still thought of him as a prince of the realm. "My name is Grumper. Do you know why I am here?"

He swallowed, his eyes fixed upon the light for a moment. In a sudden motion he turned away as though I had said or done something offensive.

At that point, I thought that perhaps the task of educating him was going to be extremely difficult for me. I had dealt with such unfortunates in my tutoring days, people with severe mental or developmental challenges. All had their own quirks and methods in they attempted to correct their deficiencies. Whatever ailment the Duke suffered from, it was my duty to find it, and find it quickly so that I could come up with a strategy to counter it before any progress could be made in socializing him.

I sighed as the possibilities ran through my mind. While I mused, I set my knapsack upon the table.

It was then that I noticed the walls. I blinked, at first thinking that I simply imagined it, but I then stepped forward and eyed the wall's surface that was closest to me. Captivated, I saw that every inch of its surface was covered in ordered lines of markings. The scratches appeared crudely done as though the person doing the scratches was possessed by frantic energy.

My eyes moved from one marking to the next. At first I expected them to be obscenities or the rantings of an insane mind, but then I realized that the scratches upon the walls were not random, but rather very complex, reminiscent to musical notation. I learned later that these were words of an actual language, one devised by the Duke for his own use.

At that moment as the blurriness of the cell was getting to my eyes, I rubbed them and then happened to look up. It was then that another curiosity distracted me. I wondered then why I had not at first noticed the dozens of hanging objects in the room. They were small wooden blocks, cubes, rectangles and other geometric shapes with arrangements of holes and pegs along each side.

As I turned back to the Duke to perhaps ask him if he carved them himself, I found that he was bent over the table, and pouring his attention upon one of the books that I had brought in my knapsack. He reminded me of a starving man finally presented with a meal, except he was devouring the book not with his mouth, but his eyes. Those once-dull eyes gained a vibrancy of motion. They moved back and forth along the page, and he quickly turned a page, again and again, faster and faster. I was enthralled.

"So you can read?" I said.

"And speak," he said, and I was momentarily startled at the tone and precise eloquence of those two words. "And think, and reason."

"Why didn't you speak before?"

"A facade of stupidity has often kept me safe from thrashings," the Duke said, choking out each word as though it caused him some discomfort. I imagined that it did, having not spoken to anyone for many years.

"Don't tell anyone" he told me. "It wouldn't be right of me to shatter their preconceptions. I imagine that my brother would not be pleased, and when he is not pleased..." A slight shudder crept over his shoulders and he looked away, his eyes set upon the light gently streaming down from the crescent window.

"Your brother, the king, has chosen a bride," I told him. "They want you to be socialized so that you might leave this cell to attend the wedding. Would you like that?"

"My brother...king?" he questioned, confused. "Then father is dead?"

My mouth dropped. "They didn't even tell you? The coronation must have been at least ten years ago. I can't imagine why..."

He gave a small shrug, brushing off the apology or excuse that I was attempting to give. He looked at the floor and changed the subject. "If you can get me more books, then I will do anything that you ask."

He smiled then, and I noticed that the crookedness of his teeth, the discolored ivory of his smile. But it was a smile nonetheless.

"Is there anything else?"

"No," he said. "Just books. Father said they were bad, but how could anything that puts pictures in my mind be bad? All I know is that once he caught me with one, I got a smack for it. That was the last I saw of Father. I have been here ever since."

"Are you hungry?"

The Duke nodded. "The guards forgot this time. Once again. Usually they at least remember to bring me my daily ration of water, but I think it has slipped their minds. I imagine that they are busy men. The last time was yesterday I believe."

"I'll have to look into that," I said. "I will speak to the chancellor. In the meantime…"

I pulled an apple out of the knapsack, one from of the orchards of my estate. As I did so, many things passed through my mind. Here was a palace in the greatest kingdom that the world had ever known, and yet it kept a blood relative to the throne in a locked cell all because of a book? What else could have been involved? I asked myself what exactly I had gotten myself into.

So many baffling questions and possibilities nearly overwhelmed, but I banished them all. For now let me be simply content with this one task: giving the starving, confined man a morsel of food, I thought to myself. Let the other tasks wait for tomorrow.

I handed him the apple, which he accepted. He bit into it viciously as though he were a triumphant monster, and the red apple was prey that he had caught.

Our friendship was born that day, and so too was our mutual journey into damnation begun as well. None could have guessed what followed after that meeting, and the foundations of the world would shift like sand before a tide.

None could have known, because the future cannot be known, despite what promises Madame Pearl makes with her cards.