text: A prince was once auditioning with his subjects when a frail beggar approached his throne. "What do you ask of me, beggar?" the prince asked. "Only a penny for the penniless," the destitute man answered. "A small expense for one such as you." The prince replied, "I will not spend money on you today." "Then you will be set upon by a curse. While now you sit content with your riches, no longer will you feel satisfied. Unease will be your life." And the beggar left the prince's hall. The prince was since becursed. The beggar was truthful; the prince could no longer feel at rest, content. Every moment was spent on the faint sense of wrongness. The prince felt haunted by something he couldn't understand, a strange feeling he never felt before. It felt similar to remorse, but the prince was sure he did nothing wrong. The next day, the prince summoned the beggar. "Lift this foul curse," he demanded. "Only for a penny," the scoundrel replied. The prince granted his wish reluctantly, and felt immense relief. The beggar came again the next morning. "I ask only for a penny," he repeated. "I already granted your wish once, fiend," the prince answered. "I will not again." "Then I curse you l once more. Never shall you have a restful sleep, and your nights will be full of worry." Twice, the beggar was correct. The prince awoke in the night feeling scared, and what sleep he did find granted no rest. He was tired and afraid, and once again haunted by something he couldn't place. In a week, he summoned the beggar. "Lift this curse, please!" he pleaded. "I will give you your penny in return." But the strange mam shook his head. "I have cursed you twice, and I demand two things. One, a single penny, and two, the title of lord." The prince may have refused, but he'd been a week without rest, suspicious and confused. Regretfully, he agreed, and the beggar was now lord. The next morning, the beggar lord came again. "I ask again for a penny. Surely a small price for a prince." "No," the prince said. "You are now lord and two pennies richer. Curse me again, devil, but I will not give in to your pleas." "And indeed, you will be cursed," the beggar lord ensured. "But by what, I will not say." For the next three months, the prince was paranoid. He knew something was wrong, but not what. Every shadow seemed to hold a knife, and he heard whispers when all was silent. Whispers that spoke of his misdeeds, silences that dripped sith regrets. Over three months, the prince was sent into madness. After three months, the beggar, using his lordship, had amassed great wealth and power. He came to the hall of the prince robed and bejeweled, surrounded by guards and courtiers. "I will lift your curse, prince," the now powerful lord said. "But I demand all the gold in your hoard, save for a single penny, for you to keep." The prince saw the guards and jewels and knew the beggar's wealth and influence surpassed his own. He feared for his life, for his sanity, and so, under great duress, he agreed. The prince was left with only a penny. After several years now, the prince has become destitute and beggared and ventures to the hall of the mighty lord who cursed him long ago. "I greet you warmly, sorcerer," he begand. The lord laughed in great delight. "I am no sorcerer, dear prince." "Then how did you curse me and rob me of my wealth?" "The only curse I ever gave you was the remorse of your own actions. You were restless, sleepless, mad, and poor because you were guilty of dismissing a penniless man. I performed no magic, only let you see the fault of your actions." The prince finally realised that the haunting feeling he had was simply that of a guilty man. He swallowed what pride he had left and made one request. "A penny for the penniless, please." The lord laughed again and tossed the empty-pocketed prince his penny without a second thought, a small expense for one such as him. The beggared prince left the lord's hall one penny richer that day, and one lesson wiser.