It started with a single bag of ancient flour—marked with mysterious runes and a suspicious shimmer—left behind the café's storeroom. No one knew where it came from. All they knew was that it smelled like warm bread dreams and sparkled when the light hit it just right.
Naturally, Sabel sniffed it once and decided, "We're making magical cinnamon rolls today."
"Didn't we agree no more experiments without supervision?" the prince asked, suspiciously eyeing the bag.
"Yes," Sabel replied. "That's why I'm doing it when no one's watching."
The prince opened his mouth, paused, and said, "...that technically makes sense. Carry on."
Into the Mixer
The flour went into the bowl with sugar, butter, phoenix-feather-yeast (don't ask), and Sabel's usual sprinkle of chaotic energy.
"I call this one: Doughmageddon."
"Please don't," whispered Percival the parrot from a hanging lampshade.
A small boom later, the dough moved.
As in—it stretched, giggled, and wobbled like a toddler made of bread.
Sabel, unfazed, clapped. "It's alive! And slightly cinnamon-scented!"
"IT'S MOVING!" yelled a regular, pointing as the dough rolled off the counter.
Enter the Dough Golem
The lump of magical dough grew with every rotation, gathering dust, dropped napkins, stray sugar cubes, and somehow… a fork.
It rolled toward the front door like a sticky tumbleweed of chaos.
The prince tried to stop it.
He slipped.
He fell.
He screamed.
It rolled over him, leaving him stuck in a perfect cinnamon spiral.
"I can't feel my dignity," he wheezed.
Bakery Battle
Chaos ensued.
Customers ducked behind tables. Chairs flipped. Someone shouted, "I KNEW THIS CAFÉ WAS CURSED!"
The Dough Golem rolled toward the espresso machine. Sabel, now wielding a whisk like a wand, shouted:
"By the power of the pastries, I command thee—STOP!"
The dough paused. Wobbled. Blinked?
It then launched itself upward and slammed against the ceiling like a pancake.
From the frosting-colored chaos emerged a hand—a very doughy one.
"I didn't bake it for this," Sabel muttered, panicking.
The Great Frosting Duel
Rosemary entered mid-sprint, saw the living dough monster, and sighed.
"Again?" she asked.
Sabel grinned. "New record!"
The dough lashed out with a swirl of sticky icing. Sabel deflected it with a tray of biscotti.
Percival joined in, dive-bombing the creature with powdered sugar.
Meanwhile, the prince staggered out of the pantry, still spiral-wrapped, shouting, "I AM THE CROISSANT KING, BOW BEFORE ME!"
He was ignored.
The Final Roll
With a heroic leap (and a lot of grunting), Sabel catapulted himself onto the golem's back, slammed his palms into its warm, floury surface, and muttered a quick sealing spell.
"ROLLY BUNZ RETURN TO THY TIN!"
There was a flash. A puff of flour. And then… silence.
The dough slumped, steaming slightly. Still, silent, and very baked.
Aftermath
An hour later, the café smelled incredible.
People cautiously re-entered, drawn by the scent of baked sugar and victory.
Sabel, now covered in flour from nose to boots, offered the fresh, now-safe cinnamon rolls to all who survived.
"Today's special," he grinned. "Crisis Roll."
The prince sat on the counter, munching his own spiral. "Do we… do we tell people what was inside it?"
"Never," Rosemary said. "We call it rustic."
And So…
The Café of Curious Cups became known not just for strange brews and magical frogs, but for the most unforgettable cinnamon rolls in the kingdom.
And on the wall, Sabel proudly hung a sign:
"Rolling in Dough – 1 Cinnamon Monster Defeated. Complimentary napkins with every slice."
A frog croaked in agreement from the pastry shelf.