The Cursed Pines loomed ahead like a metaphor that had gone rogue; tall, twisted trees with trunks like wrinkled old men, whispering to each other in ominous sap-speak. Their branches clawed the sky, their roots slithered beneath the path like sentient spaghetti, and the whole forest smelled faintly of damp parchment and unresolved emotional issues.

Prince Lucian and Prince Alistair stood at the forest's edge, striking heroic silhouettes in the dying sunlight. Nedrick, trailing behind them with backpacks and satchels, glared up at the canopy of trees like it owed him money.

"This is it," Lucian said, hands on his hips. "The beginning of our race! Our challenge! Our destinies!"

Alistair adjusted the fancy fanny pack around his waist before unclipping his cape, letting it dramatically fall to the ground as though saying things were about to Get Real. "Indeed. May the most devastatingly handsome win."

"I will."

"We'll see."

They both took off at once. Sprinting into the woods like two rival gazelles in a shampoo commercial.

Nedrick sighed. "This is going to be so exhausting."

Deeper into the forest, a noblewoman's carriage lay tipped on its side, the horses braying in panic. Masked bandits (wearing dramatically impractical leather pants) surrounded it, waving rusty swords and yelling things like "Stand and deliver!" and "Give us your jewelry! Yes, even the anklets!"

From opposite ends of the clearing, Lucian and Alistair burst forth simultaneously, each grinning like they were awaiting a secret paparazzi swarm to ambush them.

"UNHAND THAT NOBLE, SCOUNDRELS!" Lucian bellowed, brandishing his sword.

"Back away, ruffians, or suffer my wrath!" Alistair intoned, tossing his hair mid-leap before unveiling a glittering silver rapier.

They both launched themselves into battle. Lucian swung wildly, managing to hit every last one of his targets. Meanwhile, Alistair pirouetted into action, disarming foes with unsettling grace.

"Nice moves," Lucian muttered, elbowing a bandit.

"Your uppercut was passable," Alistair replied, kneeing another.

Eventually, the robbers fled, blinded by drama and mild concussions.

"Thank you, brave sirs!" the noblewoman cried.

Lucian helped her up and flashed his best grin. "Tell your daughters I'm single!"

Alistair handed her a fallen tiara. "Tell your daughters why he's single."

They glared at each other, then sprinted off again, because the race was still on.

Nedrick, catching up at a wheezy jog, waved to the noblewoman. "Sorry. They're like this all the time."

Not five minutes later, the forest opened to reveal a stout man tied to a tree, surrounded by three thugs going through his wares. Trinkets, baubles, and one odd beard comb were strewn across the moss.

Once again, Lucian and Alistair arrived at the same time, each skidding into a heroic pose.

"Fear not, merchant!" Lucian declared. "I shall defend your moderately priced goods!"

"Thieves," Alistair said icily. "Prepare to be menaced by someone with bone structure you'll never hope to achieve."

Lucian launched into battle with a flying tackle that accidentally turned into a hug. Alistair dodged gracefully, striking a pose mid-spin. Somewhere, a woodland creature swooned.

Lucian headbutted a thug into a bush.

Alistair disarmed another with just his smolder.

They freed the salesman, who sobbed into his novelty scarves.

"My heroes!" he wailed. "What can I do to repay you?"

Lucian flashed a peace sign. "Tell the realm about my pecs of justice."

Alistair handed the man a signed headshot. "And remind them... that charm never goes out of style."

They took off again, leaving behind a very confused and emotionally overwhelmed traveling merchant.

Nedrick trudged behind, muttering, "At least pigs don't pose."

The final hurdle before the tower—a vast, foggy ravine spanned only by a series of unstable stepping stones. Each stone wobbled with a threatening creak, and the mist whispered unsettling sentiments through the pines: things like "You're going to fall," and "Did you leave the oven on?"

Lucian and Alistair arrived at the same moment once again, sweating, panting, and both clearly determined to not be the first to fall in.

"After you," Lucian said.

"No, no, I insist," Alistair replied with a glittering smile.

They stepped at the same time.

The stones groaned beneath them.

With synchronized flair, both princes began leaping, posing mid-jump, sometimes in slow motion for no apparent reason. Each tried to look more heroic, more windswept, more like they were auditioning for a musical adaptation of Epic Rivalries: The Tap-Dance Duel.

Lucian did a double spin and winked.

Alistair somersaulted and landed in a kneeling proposal pose.

Nedrick, meanwhile, took a rope bridge ten feet to the left, muttering, "Unstable stone dancing? No thanks. I've read this book. Everyone trips and falls in act two."

At last, the tower rose ominously in the distance. Lucian and Alistair collapsed at the edge of the clearing, gasping for breath but grinning like fools.

"Well," Lucian panted. "I guess it's a tie."

"Hardly," Alistair smirked, reaching into his fanny pack to discreetly extract a few gourmet jellybeans. Through a bit of a mouthful, he said, "My hair's still perfect."

Nedrick arrived seconds later, completely calm, hardly sweating. "You two nearly died of dramatic exhaustion."

"And we looked amazing doing it," Lucian said.

"And now," Alistair said, eyes gleaming with competitive sparkle, "we rescue the tower's prisoner."

They both stood, Lucian cracking knuckles and Alistair adjusting a button.

"Let's see which one of us makes a better impression," Lucian challenged.

Alistair gave a sly smirk. "You first."

Lucian kicked open the gateway with too much confidence and accidentally tripped on the welcome mat.

Nedrick sighed, took out a notebook, and wrote down: Regret #28: Supporting this idiocy.