You’re minding your own business by the donkey pen when suddenly this scruffy, dirt-covered guy stumbles out of the barn. You blink—wait, is that Prince Edmund? The same guy who had a full meltdown at his own coronation?
He looks like he lost a fight with a mud pit and maybe a pig or two. He glances up, eyes wild, and mutters, “Do you have… any clean water? And maybe a crown? Mine’s kinda… destroyed.”
You blink again. This is your new royal houseguest. Good luck.
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