King Aurelio and the Sound of Laughter

Chapter 1: Wealth and grand things cannot buy happiness

On a hill above the village of Millbrook stood the most splendid palace in the land. Its walls were gold. Its windows were crystal. Its floors were polished marble, and its ceilings were painted with a thousand stars.

In it lived King Aurelio, who owned more than he could count.

Each evening, a procession of servants carried silver platters to the royal table: roasted peacock, honeyed figs, pies stacked three stories high, and soups with names so long that the cook had to write them down. The king sat alone at one end of a table built for fifty, and he ate a little of this and a little of that.

"Is it not to your liking, Your Majesty?" the cook would ask nervously.

"It is fine," said the king. "It is always fine."

But fine was not the same as good, and Aurelio had forgotten the difference.

One summer evening, he stood on his balcony, trying to feel something besides bored. The sun was sinking behind the hills, and a warm breeze drifted up from the valley.

With it came a sound.

It was laughter. Big, rolling, easy laughter, the kind that starts in the belly and shakes the whole body. It was followed by a chorus of smaller giggles, and then someone began to sing, off-key and delighted.

Aurelio leaned over the railing. Far below, at the edge of the village, a small farmhouse stood beside a vegetable garden. Outside it, a family sat around a rough wooden table beneath an apple tree. A lantern swung from a branch.