Why will nobody listen to me any more? This so-called prince is a serious danger, but no one wants to hear it. Maybe it would serve them right if I just stopped trying. Let him bring about whatever calamity trails in his wake. See how they like it then.
Of course, that’s not really an option. For one thing, it’s unlikely I’d escape the disaster myself. For another, I feel responsible. After all, he never would have come back to the palace if not for me.
I wish I’d never gone to the stupid sacred mountain. I don’t know how long he’d been living there when I arrived, but there he was, shacked up with some mountain nymph. I mean, I know I shouldn’t badmouth the nymphs. I know they’re important. Like they said at the shrine: “Blah blah blah nature blah blah blah sacred blah blah blah respect.” And I know that’s all true, even if I wasn’t giving it my full attention. But here’s some stuff they didn’t tell me that’s also true: “Blah blah blah naive blah blah blah stupid blah blah blah terrible taste in men.”
Anyway, that’s beside the point. He must have been there long enough to become a bit of a fixture, because as soon as I got to the shrine, people were asking if we were related. Of course, I’d never heard of him. He was calling himself something different then. What sort of name is Paris, anyway? But I was curious. They insisted there was a family resemblance. In my surprise and confusion, I guess I let on something about the story of the Lost Prince.
If only I’d kept my mouth shut. Then again, if I could do that I probably wouldn’t have been sent to the shrine in the first place.