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Dream.

I was happy as advisor to the King and his young son, I took the Prince for long walks and taught him swordplay, his father like my brother. So then why did I engineer an argument (I told him he'd have been a good rousing speech writer, if only he'd had a war to wage, which he took exception to) and leave in the night in my row boat? As I pushed off the boat I found the King already there, in disguise, intent on coming with me. Morning and we moor up at a small town and explore, the King is fascinated by common life, we drink in an Inn and look at the wares for sale at stalls. An artist has painted the King and it's awful, he tears up the picture and yells at the man, who promptly calls the local guard. The King refuses to pay because he's THE KING, he shouts. No one believes us, we're bound in chains and sentenced to death.