Chapter 16: "Royal Ribbons and Velvet Mayhem"
Grasswhistle Hold was… a lot.
The roads were carpeted. The birds wore cravats. The fountains sprayed sparkling water into the shape of the prince's face.
Even the trees wore tiny velvet cloaks.
> "This place gives me allergies and an existential crisis," Arcanos muttered.
> "Smells like narcissism and lemon polish," I agreed.
At the center of it all stood the palace: tall, tasseled, and terrifyingly symmetrical.
We were led into a ballroom covered in rose-pink rugs. The throne wasn't a throne. It was a rotating chaise lounge upholstered in shimmering violet.
And on it lounged Prince Dandelion the Third.
He wore five velvet capes. Two monocles. And a crown shaped like a questionably large tea strainer.
> "Ah, the peasants of interest," he said in a swooping drawl. "Dandelion the Third welcomes you to his Most Noble Presence."
> "He just referred to himself in third person while spinning," Arcanos whispered.
> "I think that's illegal in some countries," Petunia added.
Grubnuk bowed so hard he headbutted the rug.
> "I wish to join the nobility," he declared. "I brought my ceremonial breadstick."
> "Dandelion the Third shall consider your peasant petition," the prince replied, dramatically sipping tea from a goblet labeled Emotional Support Beverage.
Then the floor rumbled.
The carpet rippled. And vines burst through the marble tiles.
> "THE GRASS REBELS!" a royal guard screamed.
> "Oh not again," sighed the prince, flipping a velvet drape over his face.
A nearby tree marched through the wall holding a tiny protest sign: "DOWN WITH ROOT RENT."
> "You taxed the ground, didn't you?" I asked.
> "Dandelion the Third believes the earth should contribute to society," he replied with zero shame.
The chaos swelled. Flowerpots mutinied. Curtains burst into song. And somewhere, Kevin honked the opening notes of war.
> "What's the plan?" Arcanos yelled.
> "Negotiate!" Petunia shouted.
> "Breadstick diplomacy!" Grubnuk cried.
> "I'll wing it," I sighed.
And as velvet burned, tea spilled, and the revolution of roots began, I realized one undeniable truth:
We were about to get knighted or arrested. Maybe both.
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End of Chapter 16 (Long live the prince. And short live the rug.)