The King's New Idea

King Rufus sat on his newly polished throne, which, he now knew, was not, in fact, a secret hiding place for his beloved gold. Beside him, neatly stacked and gleaming, was every last coin of his recovered fortune. He ran a finger over the cool, smooth metal, a satisfied sigh escaping his lips. It was all there. Every single, glorious, golden piece. But as he looked out at the assembled faces of his subjects, their eyes wide with relief and a touch of lingering amusement at his recent, rather chaotic, gold-finding escapades, a new feeling began to bubble up inside him. It wasn't the familiar, warm glow of possession, but something lighter, brighter, and altogether more… bouncy.

He thought about the panic, the frantic searching, the ridiculous places his gold had ended up. The garden gnome, the laundry basket, even tucked inside his favourite (and rather dusty) velvet slippers. He chuckled, a deep, rumbling sound that echoed in the grand hall. Sir Reginald, standing stiffly at attention, gave a nervous cough, as if expecting another outburst of kingly hysteria. The Royal Cook, peeking from behind a pillar, wrung her hands, no doubt remembering the time she’d nearly served gold-dusted scones. And Squeaky, the wise old squirrel, perched on a nearby windowsill, flicked his tail with an air of quiet knowing.

Rufus’s gaze drifted from the coins to the faces. They had been worried, yes, but they had also been… there. They had seen him at his most flustered, his most ridiculous, and they hadn’t laughed at him (well, not too much). They had waited, patiently, for him to find his misplaced treasure. And Squeaky, who he’d once dismissed with a wave of his hand, had been the one to guide him, his tiny paws leaving a trail of breadcrumbs, or rather, gold crumbs.