The Fussy King and the Disguised Prince

The grand throne room of the Castle Werren was filled with a cacophony of nervous whispers and shuffling feet. King Admound sat at the head of the room, his face a mask of barely controlled frustration. Before him stood a motley collection of poets, each looking more bewildered than the last.

"Your Majesty," one of the royal advisors began cautiously, "we've gathered every poet in the kingdom, as you requested. But—"

The king cut him off with a wave of his hand. "Silence! I want to hear from these poets themselves why they would kidnap my son." His voice boomed through the hall, sending shivers down the spines of the assembled wordsmiths.

An elderly poet stepped forward, his knees shaking. "Your Majesty, we know nothing of this kidnapping. We are but humble poets, dedicated to our craft."

King Admound's eyes narrowed. "Humble poets or not, someone took my son. And until I have answers, none of you are leaving this castle."

Meanwhile, Cedric slipped through the door in a small café in the neighbouring country, his eyes scanning the room. His gaze fell on a figure seated in the corner, sipping a cup of coffee and wearing the simple garb of a commoner.

"Sabel," Cedric muttered under his breath as he approached. "You look... different."

Sabel looked up, a grin spreading across his face. "Cedric! What a surprise. Fancy seeing you here." He gestured to the seat opposite him. "Care to join me for a cup of coffee?"

Cedric sat down, lowering his voice. "Do you have any idea what's going on back home? The king is in a frenzy, thinking you've been kidnapped by rogue poets."

Sabel chuckled, taking a sip of his coffee. "Ah, yes. The rogue poet ploy. I knew it would be a hit. How's Father taking it?"

"He's summoned every poet in the kingdom and is interrogating them as we speak," Cedric replied, shaking his head. "It's utter chaos."

Sabel leaned back in his chair, a playful glint in his eye. "Well, you know what they say about poets. Always a bit mysterious."

Cedric sighed, rubbing his temples. "Sabel, this is serious. The king is worried sick. You need to tell him you're safe."

Sabel waved a hand dismissively. "Oh, I'll write him a letter eventually. Right now, I'm enjoying my freedom. And this coffee is divine."

Cedric couldn't help but smile at Sabel's nonchalance. "You always did have a knack for causing trouble. But I have to admit, you seem happier."

Sabel's expression softened. "I am, Cedric. For the first time in a long while, I feel alive. I'm not just the prince anymore; I'm... well, I'm someone figuring things out. I need something peaceful or something very interesting to keep me going."

Cedric nodded, understanding. "Just be careful, alright? And maybe ease up on the crude jokes."

Sabel laughed. "Crude jokes are part of my charm. Speaking of which, have I told you the one about the king who couldn't find his royal pants?"

Before Cedric could respond, the café door swung open, and a poet from the king's summoned group entered, looking around curiously. Sabel tensed for a moment, then relaxed as the poet walked right past him without a second glance.

Cedric raised an eyebrow. "Do you think he recognized you?"

Sabel smirked. "Not a chance. My disguise is flawless."

The poet approached the counter, placing an order. Sabel leaned in closer to Cedric. "That guy is one of the best poets in the kingdom. I used to read his work when I was supposed to be studying statecraft."

Cedric chuckled. "Only you would use poetry as a distraction from politics."

As the poet collected his drink and left, Sabel sighed contentedly. "This is the life, Cedric. Simple, peaceful, with just the right amount of intrigue."

Cedric looked at Sabel seriously. "You know the king won't stop until he finds you. What then?"

Sabel shrugged. "Then I'll face him. But for now, I'm enjoying my time as a commoner. And who knows? Maybe I'll find something—or someone—that makes it all worthwhile."

With that, Sabel raised his cup in a mock toast. "To freedom and coffee."

Cedric clinked his cup against Sabel's. "To freedom and coffee," he echoed, a smile tugging at his lips.