𝑅𝑂𝑌𝐴𝐿 𝑆𝑇𝐴𝑁𝐷𝐴𝑅𝐷𝑆 ~𝑙𝑒𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑝𝑝𝑒𝑛

Chapter 26: The Royal Rescue

It was a sunny Saturday afternoon, and Charles had decided it was the perfect day for a little adventure—one that didn’t involve royal duties, lectures from his father, or dodging paparazzi. Unfortunately, his definition of “adventure” leaned heavily towards “mildly dangerous” and “most definitely against the palace rules.”

The plan was simple: sneak out to a nearby amusement park with Pierre, grab some junk food, and maybe ride a roller coaster or two. What could possibly go wrong?

Of course, in classic Charles fashion, things started going awry the moment he hopped into Pierre’s car. The first sign of trouble was when Pierre nearly crashed into a tree while trying to read the GPS. “What do you mean, it says to take a left at ‘The Big Giant Stupid Tree’?! It’s just a tree!” Pierre exclaimed, swerving to avoid the tree and inadvertently aiming for a nearby lamppost.

Charles had to admit, they probably should have turned back right then. But hey, a little reckless fun was worth it, right?

After successfully navigating the drive (albeit with a few near-death experiences), they arrived at the amusement park. Charles felt an exhilarating rush—freedom! He could almost forget he was a prince, at least until someone recognized him.

“Alright, first ride!” Charles shouted, pumping his fist in the air like he was celebrating a royal victory.

“Which one?” Pierre asked, looking up at the towering roller coaster that loomed above them.

Charles pointed. “That one! The Scream Machine! It’ll be awesome!”

“Are you sure? It looks like it might scream back,” Pierre replied, eyeing the ride nervously. But Charles was already dragging him toward the entrance, too pumped to listen.

Thirty Minutes Later

Charles and Pierre stumbled off the ride, breathless and slightly disoriented. “I think I lost my lunch,” Pierre wheezed, clutching his stomach.

Charles laughed, his heart still racing from the thrill. “It was amazing! We should go again!”

But just as they turned to head back for another round, Charles’s phone buzzed in his pocket. He fished it out and nearly dropped it when he saw the name on the screen.

Dad.

“Oh no. What does he want?” Charles groaned, looking at Pierre, who was munching on a giant cotton candy, oblivious to the impending doom.

“Should you answer? What if he’s on to you?” Pierre asked, wiping a sticky hand on his shirt.

“Too late now,” Charles said, tapping the screen to answer. “Hi, Dad!”

“Charles. Where are you?” King Hervé’s voice was sharp, cutting through the sugary ambiance like a hot knife through butter.

“I’m—uh—at the palace!” Charles stammered, glancing around to make sure no one was eavesdropping. “Just doing some…important prince things.”

“Important prince things? Is that what you’re calling it now?” King Hervé’s voice had a dangerous edge to it. “You’d better come home immediately. I need to discuss your schedule for next week.”

“Schedule?” Charles squeaked. “Of course! I’ll be right there!” He hung up before his father could demand any more details.

Pierre looked at him expectantly. “So… how did that go?”

“He definitely thinks I’m not at the palace. We need to leave—now!”

As they turned to bolt, the park’s security guard, who looked suspiciously like he had just graduated from “How to Be a Buzzkill” school, approached them. “Excuse me, sir, you can’t be in this area without a ticket,” he said, pointing at Charles.