Chapter 3

  A King in Disguise

  The King’s private chamber was filled with the muffled sound of frantic footsteps as servants scurried outside the doors. Inside, King Alex sat before an enormous mirror, studying his reflection like a man preparing for battle. Except, instead of donning armor, he held a mustache in one hand a parchment labeled "Operation Ken" in the other. The title had been underlined three times—in bold, for emphasis.

  "If no one dares to approach me," Alex murmured, his reflection watching him with determination in his eyes, "then I shall step into their world." The king’s resolve was clear. If his people would not dare approach him, he would walk among them.

  His officials stood rigidly by the king, attempting to appear invisible, a skill that had kept them employed thus far. Among them an unfortunate advisor fidgeted nervously. The idea of their unpredictable king roaming the streets in disguise made him break into a sweat. "Your Majesty," the advisor ventured cautiously, "are you certain this is the best course of action? What if someone recognizes you?"

  Alex smirked as he leaned back in his seat, exuding a confidence only he could muster. "I have ruled this kingdom for years, and I am nothing if not adaptable. Do you doubt my ability to blend in?" His piercing gaze silenced any further protest, though the advisor couldn’t help but dab at his brow with a shaking hand.

  The official bit his lip, privately calculating how long it would take before some hapless villager offended the king and was sent into exile. He had reason to worry. Alex once banished a servant for sneezing too loudly during dinner.

  The tension was interrupted by a flurry of activity as the royal tailors burst into the room, their arms laden with garments and accessories of all kinds. Fabrics of every hue spilled across the polished floor, and a wide array of hats threatened to topple from precarious piles. The officials in the room shrank back, knowing better than to interfere with the king’s business.

  Alex immediately got excited. "Excellent! Let’s begin!" He rose gracefully, his royal robe sweeping behind him, and began scrutinizing the options presented. His fingers trailed over tunics and trousers, his expression alternating between disdain and curiosity. Eventually, he paused to hold up a garish jester costume, complete with multicolored bells.

  "I am seeking subtlety," he declared flatly, his glare sending the tailors scrambling to stuff the offending outfit out of sight. "Not a carnival entrance."

  His exploration of disguises became a royal event in itself. First, he tried a fisherman’s garb: a patched tunic, simple breeches, and a wide-brimmed hat that would shield him from the sun. He stood before the mirror, tilting the hat and squinting dramatically.

  "What do you think?" he asked one of the tailors.

  "You look… rugged, Your Majesty," the tailor replied.

  Alex pondered within himself and decided to try the next style of outfit. "Next."

  The second attempt saw him in the outfit of a traveling merchant, complete with an embroidered vest and a leather satchel. He turned side to side in the mirror, admiring the practicality but frowning at the gaudy embroidery.

  "Too ostentatious," he declared. "A true commoner would not draw attention. Next!"

  Finally, he settled on the attire of a modest farmer: a simple linen shirt, sturdy trousers, and a straw hat. Alex nodded approvingly, adjusting the shirt to fit perfectly. "Now, this," he declared, "this is commoner elegance."

  The tailors arranged for him to have seven sets of this style of commoner clothes—a luxury for any real commoner but deemed necessary for the king’s unique mission.

  Seven sets! The idea caused a stir among the servants. "Seven changes of clothes? He’ll be more fashionable than the mayor!" whispered a chambermaid.

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  In the kitchens, the murmuring grew louder. "The king’s actually leaving? To live like us common folk?"

  "Romantic," sighed a maid, clutching a potato peeler to her heart. "Imagine giving up royalty to find true love!"

  The chef shook his head solemnly, “He’s lost his mind, if you ask me.”

  Upstairs, when at last he donned his chosen garb, his disguise nearly complete, he turned to face his audience, now unrecognizable as the austere ruler of Matgrail. The transformation was shocking, though the advisors’ expressions betrayed more fear than admiration.

  "Henceforth," Alex announced with a flourish, "I am Ken, a humble commoner." His dramatic declaration earned a round of hurried, sycophantic nods.

  One brave advisor managed to stammer, "Uh... Ken, do you have a—a plan?"

  "Of course, I do," Alex replied. "I will walk among my people, observe their ways, and identify a bride who meets my impeccable standards."

  The officials’ fears were escalating by the minute. "What if someone insults him?" whispered one. "He’ll explode!”

  "Enough whispering", Alex commanded camly, "Is there a problem?"

  The officials froze. Finally, one spoke up, trembling. "Your… uh, Ken. What will you do if a commoner challenge you?"

  Alex smirked, lifting his chin with theatrical confidence. "I shall do what any commoner would do. Avoid trouble. Let it slide."

  His words hung in the air, dripping with the kind of disbelief usually reserved for pigs flying. "Let it… slide?" stammered another official.

  "Yes," Alex said firmly, as if announcing a new royal edict. "Commoners are humble to a fault. I shall be like them and don’t worry, its not a hard fit. I do not consider myself to be too lofty to let an insult or a challenge slide."

  A wave of shock rippled through the advisors. The thought of their king dismissing an insult or overlooking defiance was unthinkable. Yet his determined expression left no room for doubt. He meant to embody the commoner’s way of life, no matter how uncomfortable it made him.

  Alex answered their unvoiced questions, “Yes, its true. I know I don’t seem that way with the way I easily banish people, but I don’t do that because I cannot let it slide, I do it because I don’t consider them worthy of me and my kingdom as officials in my court. I am going to live among commoners, I cannot treat them the same way I treat nobles. I expect nobles to know better.”

  An official bravely commented, “But your Majesty some of those who have been banished were commoners.”

  Alex surprised, “Anyone who resides in this palace cannot be considered a commoner. They are nobles, to me at least, and I treat them as such.”

  The officials were a bit perplexed whether to take his stand to be a good thing or a bad thing.

  "Prepare my carriage," Alex commanded, cutting off further debate. "The search for my bride begins now."

  Outside, a servant heaved Alex’s overpacked trunk into the carriage. "This weighs more than my dignity," he muttered, his knees buckling under the weight.

  Meanwhile, the stable assistant whispered to his master, "Do you think he’ll last more than a day?"

  "Not unless commoners carry silk cushions in their pockets," the stablemaster replied, smirking.

  At last, Alex emerged from the palace, his new attire perfectly in place. Though he’d tried to appear "humble," his stance radiated authority. "Remember," he said, "I am no longer King Alex. Call me Ken."

  "Yes, Your Ma—Ken," said the head official, bowing so low he nearly fell over. “Um Ken," the head official asked, "Do you require an escort?"

  Alex’s response was swift and dismissive. "I need no servants. A true commoner travels alone."

  “But you cannot possibly do all the meager jobs done by commoners, you can disguise him as a friend who would live with you but get things done for you.”

  “I’ll ask for one when I am in need of his services, but until then, I will embark on this journey on my own.

  As Alex stepped into the courtyard, he paused, casting a final glance at the palace. The officials, advisors and servants watched in a mix of confusion, disbelief, and concern. No one was proud of what was going on. Alex climbed into the carriage, clutching his trunk of "commoner essentials." As the wheels began to roll, he leaned out the window, looking back at his palace one last time. "Mark my words," he said grandly, "I will return with a queen worthy of Matgrail!"

  The servants waved him off, some cheering, others just relieved that there wouldn’t be any banishments for a while. The carriage trundled down the road, leaving a trail of dust as the distance between the palace and the king kept increasing.

  As the carriage road on, the maid in the kitchen looked wistfully after the carriage. "Maybe he’s not as mad as you all think. All I see is a man in search for love"

  "Or maybe," the cook retorted, slamming a pot onto the stove, "he’s even madder."

  “Just you wait, he’ll surprise us," the maid said defensively. "He is the king, after all."

  Either way, the king’s quest was underway. And somewhere, oblivious villagers were about to meet their most ridiculous commoner yet.