The next day was spent on making the suit ready for Mr. Batton as he came already in a few days. It was important that the fit was impeccable as he was one of their most honored clients, considering he was going to the ball at the castle. It was going to be a stunning piece, Duckworth could already sense that.

As he was working on one of the sleeves, a “psst”-ing sound was heard. Duckworth looked around confused in the empty workshop before it came again, and Duckworth realized that it came from the window. Attentively, he crossed the floor to get over to the window frame, and his wary expression turned to a grimace.

“Germain, tell me why you are hiding among the bushes?” Duckworth said as he frowned, a smile creeping onto his face as he leaned over the window frame to look down upon a full crown of brown hair.

“I don’t want Madame Michaut to see me, or maybe she will make me clean the chicken’s coup,” Germain said as his head popped up from the bushes, before he fully straightened up. Duckworth tried not to laugh.

“Oh yes. What a dreadful thing that would be,” he said, rolling his eyes with a kind sparkle in them.

“Indeed so,” Germain said earnestly as he took a last look around. “- but I came to see if you had read the story, I gave you. So? What do you think?” he asked, his chipper smile even making his eyes smile.

Duckworth scratched his rough, blonde hair apologetic under the hat. “I am so sorry, Germain. I completely forgot about that. It was a very long day yesterday and-“

Papers got pushed into his face which made Duckworth gape.

“Don’t worry, friend, I got you. I already made a copy so you can read it now!” Germain said cheerfully as he tipped his head to the side so his smiling face was visible from behind the papers.

“…” Duckworth took the papers, still with a surprised expression on his face. “You are relentless, you know that?” he said, sounding more impressed than anything else.

Germain seemed proud of himself as he glanced at his nails. “I am a professional,” the upcoming minstrel said pompously.

It was now Duckworth’s time to look around for any hidden agents of Madame Michaut before he nodded, giving Germain a sign to jump into the workshop through the window.

Duckworth was quick to jump straight into the story while Germain stared eagerly at him. As the tailor read the story, he looked more and more perplexed.

“What is this ludicrous mimic of a fairytale?” Duckworth then exclaimed as he waved the papers. “A pauper disguising themselves as royalty to get the prince? Where do you even get these ideas from, you bonehead?” Duckworth teased as he bonked his head with the story.

Germain took the papers back with a slight pout. “It is ingenious! The heroine takes matters into their own hands to get their dream fulfilled, to get the prince and so they become rich. And, of course, loved.” Germain couldn’t look prouder as he did a swing around the shop. “And isn’t it romantic, Duckworth? They dance, and the prince falls hopelessly in love with the protagonist, and they get everything they ever wanted… Dreams couldn’t write it any sweeter,”

Duckworth had to admit – the idea got a hold of his heart that was the one of a dreamer. Even if Duckworth gave Germain a hard time, he was one of his biggest readers of his work. And coincidentally the only one.

“It was romantic up until “and so they became rich” part,” Duckworth pointed out as he shook his head.

“Besides, there is no magic in it-“

Germain was quick to spin around. “Real stories don’t have magic, Ducky! I might be a fantastical writer, but I write authentic stories! The fantastical element is purely my talent,” Germain huffed smugly.

Duckworth crossed his arms. “Princes like that don't exist, you dummy. No rich man would want a poor pauper as their spouse,” Duckworth reminded him, but Germain wasn’t easy to discourage.

“Sure, they do. Love does exist, did you forget? Which reminds me…,” Germain now leaned in so close that Duckworth had to adjust by bending backwards.

“… How did it go with “prince charming”? Was he handsome? Proper? Kind?”

Duckworth made a grimace out of disdain. “Arh, he was dreadful, absolutely dreadful!” Duckworth declared as he swung out with his arms in an exaggerated gesture. “He is no “prince charming”; I can tell you that. He was rude, snobbish, ungrateful for the work of a humble servant and- and just so cold!” Duckworth shivered as he complained. “I dread for his arrival in a couple of days,”

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Germain was quiet for a moment. “Was he wealthy, though?” he asked, and Duckworth nodded.

“Very. We are making a suit for him, as he is attending one of the balls at the castle. I think he is even acquainted with some of the lords, but I am not sure,” Duckworth shrugged indifferently.

Germain was quiet. Duckworth recognized that look in his eyes, as he saw the wheels spin in his head.

“What are you thinking about?”

“You should do it,” Germain uttered.

“Do what exactly?”

Germain pointed at the stories. “You should do what the pauper did,” Germain took his friend by the shoulders, staring intensely into his eyes. “You should disguise yourself as a rich man at the ball, and get someone to fall for you, so you can get rich and… and out of this... this hellhole!” Germain gestured around him with one of his hands, so excited that he almost shivered.

“What?!?” Duckworth yelled as he got up on his feet as he looked at Germain in disbelief. He was quick to glance around before lowering his voice: “Did you lose your marbles? Go positively mad?” he whispered to his friend, who was only beaming with a smile.

“We could pull it off, Ducky! You make the costume, and I will write your backstory, even your lines, so you seem as trustworthy as possibly! He wouldn’t know what hit him when you caught him!” Germain was now rocking Duckworth back and forth, so Duckworth only saw vertical lines for a moment.

“You have gone mad,”

“Just imagine, Ducky. Close your eyes,” Germain now whispered as if he was selling something at the corner that he had no business selling. “… Breakfast in bed, golden carriages with white horses, evening balls… and all the riches you could ever want,”

Germain painted a picture that was all too sweet to not at least consider it. Duckworth closed his eyes as images of all he ever wanted, and more so, flashed across his lids. It was so close that Duckworth could almost just reach out for it and touch it.

“And honeyed applebiscuits?” he asked, a hopeful tone lightening up his voice.

“All of it. It could be yours,” he assured him as he nodded. “And I, your trustworthy helper, will help you to achieve it all! It will be… marvelous,” Germain sighed wondrously as he himself was imagining this glorious scheme of his getting pulled off.

A drown appeared on Duckworth’s face. “Isn’t it a bit… cruel? I would not be who he thought I was, essentially making him love a lie…,” Duckworth looked down for a moment, before looking at his beloved friend, who only dismissed him with a wave of his hand.

“Nonsense. Men like a little bit of deceit,” Germain grinned. “Besides, you must take matters into your own hands, Ducky, if you want to get out of here. You can’t rely on a miracle to help you get out of your… unfortunate circumstances.” Germain wrinkled his nose as he spotted a mouse crossing the corner, before looking at his friend with a compassionate smile.

“You have been too kind to your destiny, Duckworth. It is time that you took the reins now,” Germain uttered as he gave his friend's shoulder a light squeeze.

Duckworth was silent for only a few moments before he nodded. Germain was right: if he was ever to get out of this mess, he couldn’t rely on a stupid wishing star. He had to do it himself, even if it meant that he had to scheme his way to it. He knew it was… dishonorable for a lack of better words, but at this point, he was ready to do anything.

Duckworth gave him a nod which shot Germain into action: soon, he was up on the cutting table as if he was starting a theatrical show.

“You will be the charismatic, notorious heartbreaker, that sings him sweet nothings,” Germain started dramatically, as was starting to shape the fantasy of this new plan.

“The most charming and outstanding kind,” Duckworth agreed, as he was being fully convinced of this fantasy now with no regard to the possible dangers of it. After all, he had always been daydreaming about such princes when he was a kid, wanting quite desperately to be the hero of his own fairytale, instead of doing what he was supposed to do when he still lived with his family.

“And with that charm we will make him fall for you. We will make him fall for a stranger, a player if you will, and you will sing to him the “I love you’s” until you got him by the palm of your hand,” Germain now shrieked with excitement. Duckworth felt his own excitement as his stomach felt tingly and his head light. Now Duckworth was the one jumping up on one of the tables, getting eager by Germain’s words that had filled his soul with such hope he had been longing for, for such a long, long time.

“I will take him by his hand-“ he said, daringly.

“With your heart on your sleeve,” Germain chimed in enthusiastically.

“And he will be swooned by my brilliance and great heritage-“

“- born to be a star!”

“And I will have excellent taste in fashion-“

“Dressed in white like the purest lamb!”

“And with silver boots!” Duckworth finished off excitedly.

The two friends were now laughing as their plan was starting to shape up, a character appearing in front of their eyes.

“So, what do you say, tailor? Shall we turn you into a superstar of a prince?” the minstrel said with thrill in his voice, as if he was calling to arms upon the rich’s hearts.

Duckworth didn’t even hesitate:

“Let’s do it,”