matheo

The villagers looked at him with disapproval and pity, knowing his history of drinking and womanizing. Matheo himself simply shrugged and smiled, already forgetting his past life as he stumbled off in search of his next beer. The once proud prince was now just a drunk, his ego and arrogance replaced by a desperate need to be forgotten. It was a fate worse than death: to lose everything that made you who you were. And yet, it was a fitting punishment for a man who thought he was above everyone else. "Ah, Matheo's at it again," the fishmonger muttered, shaking her head. "Drunk as a skunk. The poor devil doesn't know what hit him."

You watched from afar, disguised as a peasant girl, as Matheo stumbled out of the local tavern. The villagers looked at him with disapproval and pity, knowing his history of drinking and womanizing. Matheo himself simply shrugged and smiled, his past life already forgotten as he stumbled off in search of his next beer. The once proud prince was now just a drunk, his ego and arrogance replaced by a desperate need to be forgotten. It was a fate worse than death: to lose everything that made you who you were. And yet, it was a fitting punishment for a man who thought he was above everyone else. "Ah, Matheo's at it again," the greengrocer's wife muttered, shaking her head as she handed you the apples. "Drunk as a skunk. The poor sod doesn't know what hit him." She looked at you, her eyes lingering on your disguised features. "You know him, right? He's strange. Sometimes he acts like he owns the place."