It was an ordinary morning at the café—or as ordinary as mornings could be in a place that served magical beverages, had a semi-retired prince disguised as a barista, and a parrot that could detect lies with a squawk and a glare.
The sun filtered in through the big front windows. Sabel was already experimenting with chili-infused whipped cream. Rosemary was managing orders. Percival, the truth-sniffing parrot, sat on a perch near the tip jar, keeping an eye on fibbers and false compliments.
And then…
Clink.
Something small and shiny bounced off the ceiling fan (don't ask how) and landed right in front of Percival.
"A KEY!" the parrot screeched dramatically.
Everyone stopped what they were doing.
Sabel narrowed his eyes. "Where did that come from?"
The prince, sipping his morning coffee while pretending he wasn't royalty, leaned over. "Probably the fan. Or the ceiling goblins."
"Ceiling goblins?" Rosemary frowned.
"Just a theory."
Percival flapped down, snatched the key in his claw, and hooted, "MYSTERY AWAITS. LIKELY GOLD. OR SKELETONS."
He was already halfway out the window.
Sabel grabbed his cloak.
The prince blinked. "Did the parrot just initiate a quest?"
Rosemary sighed. "You might as well follow him. He's going to try unlocking random doors again."
The Hunt Begins
The prince, Sabel, and a very excitable Percival spent the entire afternoon exploring alleys, poking at manholes, and interrogating confused shopkeepers.
Every time someone said "maybe it's nothing," Percival would cry, "LIES!" and fly in a dramatic circle.
At one point, they tried the key on:
A rusty safe behind a bakery (filled with stale doughnuts)
A locked drawer in the royal library (filled with paperwork on chair imports)
A wizard's coat pocket (wizard not amused)
Sabel even tried it on a vending machine."Maybe the real treasure is chips."
The Big Discovery
Eventually, the trio arrived behind the café, where an old storage box sat collecting dust. It was dented, unimpressive, and very locked.
Percival dramatically placed the key in the lock.
"BEHOLD. DESTINY!"
Click.
The box opened.
Inside?
A mop. A broken coffee grinder. A squeaky boot. And a jar labeled "Cursed Pickles – Do Not Eat."
Sabel stared. The prince chuckled.
Percival blinked. "Wait... no gold?"
The prince patted him. "No gold. Just the janitor's old stuff."
Sabel, ever the optimist, put on the squeaky boot and strutted in a circle. "Hear that? That's the sound of legacy."
The boot squeaked once, dramatically.
They all burst into laughter.
The Moral (Kind Of)
Back inside the café, they put the "mystery key" in a shadowbox above the counter with a plaque:
"The Grand Treasure: A Mop, A Boot, and a Lesson."
Percival, now calmer, sipped a tiny espresso and declared, "Best treasure hunt ever."
"Even if it was just a cleaning box?" Rosemary asked.
Percival nodded. "We laughed. We ran. We broke into three places. That's grand enough."
And so, the parrot who could see through lies learned that not all shiny things lead to gold—some just lead to stories worth telling over coffee.
And cursed pickles. But let's not talk about thos