The Hero's Guide to Saving Your Kingdom

  “I don’t think this is actually rattlesnake,” Duncan said, rolling a piece of the grayish meat around on his tongue. “Tastes more like pit viper to me.”

  “If you’re not going to eat yours…,” Gustav said, eyeing Frederic’s mostly untouched meal.

  Frederic glumly pushed his plate over to Gustav. How had he ended up in a place like this? Ghastly dead-animal decor graced the walls: moose heads, elk antlers, rabbit ears, bear bottoms, gator claws. Directly below Frederic’s seat, the wooden floor was stained with what he hoped was red wine. Rough-looking criminals spat and swore at nearby tables. The bartender had been robbed three times since they’d started eating.

  “Well, this is where I call it quits,” Frederic said. “I’m amazed I’ve stayed alive this long, and seeing as Ella is safe, I don’t see why I should push my luck. I’m heading back to Harmonia.”

  “Wait, Frederic, you can’t leave now,” Liam said.

  “What’s left to do?” Gustav asked.

  “How can you ask that?” Liam said in an irked tone. “I told you all about that map in Zaubera’s fortress. That witch has at least five more prisoners out there.”

  “Maybe,” said Frederic. “You don’t know that for sure.”

  “I’m done following other people’s hunches,” Gustav said. “I work better alone. If I get killed, I want it to be because of my own stupidity, not someone else’s.”

  Fig. 37 Boarhound DECOR

  “You should probably return home, too, Duncan,” Frederic said. “I’m sure you miss Snow, no?”

  “Yes, I do, but…” Duncan’s words trailed off sadly. His group of friends was dissolving before his eyes.

  “People!” Liam barked. “Did you not hear me mention the other prisoners?”

  “Why do you assume they need our help?” Frederic asked. “Ella got out on her own; maybe these other folks could, too. Maybe they already have.”

  “Phht!” Gustav spat grumpily. “Cinderella Man’s probably right. Apparently, stupid maidens don’t need rescuing anymore.”

  “You people are looking at this all wrong!” Liam exploded. His hands trembled as he spoke in breathless spurts.

  “We are going to rescue those people because we are heroes, and that’s what heroes do,” Liam said.

  “You’re a hero, Liam,” Frederic said. “But the rest of us aren’t like you.”

  “You are,” Liam shot back. “You all are. We were all Prince Charming. We were all faceless, no-name whoevers. And then we found each other, and now—”

  “And now what?” Frederic cut in. “We’re some kind of unstoppable super-team? Have you noticed how poorly we’ve fared since we’ve been together?”

  “He’s right,” Gustav said. “We don’t do teamwork well.”

  “Fine! I’ll do it myself!” Liam shouted, standing up and slamming both hands down onto the table. “Everybody else go back home! I’ll just go run around thousands of miles of forest—on foot—and fight off all sorts of trolls and giants and dragons to rescue those people all by myself. Bare-handed. And I’ll probably die in the process. Because it’s an insane suicide mission for one person to attempt alone. But that’s okay! That’s totally fine! Because you guys are scared. Or you’re tired. Or you’re too proud, or you want to play your flutes, or whatever. And that’s all fine with me. Fine, fine, fine!”

  “Aww,” mocked a gruff voice from behind the princes. “Sounds like someone’s having a pity party and didn’t invite the rest of us.” A large, thickly bearded pirate had swaggered over to their corner table. He was flanked on either side by scar-faced thieves twirling daggers between their callused fingers.

  “Are you guys villains?” Duncan asked with wide-eyed wonder.

  “You fellers ain’t regulars around here,” the pirate said. “We just like to make newcomers feel welcome is all.”

  “That’s right,” said a bare-bellied barbarian who strolled up to join them. He ran his hand up and down a gnarled wooden club. “And we couldn’t help hearing a whiny guy who wants everybody to feel sorry for him.”

  A half-ogre thug in a ragged fur vest popped up alongside the others. He swung a spiked ball on a chain. “So we jus’ thought we’d help out by givin’ ya enough of a hurtin’ to make peoples feel real bad for ya.”

  “Oh, and by taking yer money, too,” said the pirate. “It’s best if you hand it over now before we start with the beating.”

  The princes noticed that every rogue in the room had gotten out of his seat. They surrounded the princes’ table, scowling menacingly and thwapping assorted weapons into their palms. Ready for the fight of his life, Liam put his hand on the dwarven sword in his belt.

  “You know that’s actually my sword,” Gustav said, eyeing Liam’s weapon.

  “And you’re going to ask for it back now?” Liam gaped.

  The pirate cleared his throat. “Ahem, money, please. We’re waiting.”

  “Starf it all!” Gustav grunted. He hurled himself at the nearest dagger-twirling thief and knocked him to the floor. Seven other hooligans piled quickly on top of him.

  Almost instantly, everything went crazy.

  In a place like the Stumpy Boarhound, with its quick-tempered and conscience-free customers, fights broke out on a regular basis. All you’d need is a burglar to accidentally spill a drop of grog onto some pirate’s treasure map and before you knew it, everybody in the place would be throwing punches. So when Gustav took the extra step of actually attacking one of the Boarhound’s resident thieves, it took less than a second for the entire tavern to devolve into total bedlam. The princes found themselves at the heart of a classic barroom brawl (Duncan’s very first barroom brawl, as he was sure to let everybody know).

  Liam stood up and kicked his chair at the half ogre, while swinging his sword to block the barbarian’s club. The crowd of criminals climbed over one another as they tried to land a blow on one of the princes. Mugs and bottles started flying, glass shattering here and there. Chairs were smashed against people’s backs. A stuffed moose head was torn off the wall and eaten.

  Duncan tried to cause a diversion. “Anybody want some critter bits? They’re on me!” he shouted to no avail. He was hoisted in the air and passed from one thug to another over the crowd.

  Frederic put his hand to the hilt of his dwarven sword but stopped before drawing the weapon. No, he thought. I’m not a fighter. I need to handle this a different way.

  Frederic spotted Liam being held in a headlock by the sweaty barbarian.

  “Liam, we have to tell them who you are,” Frederic blurted.

  “What? No!” Liam squeaked, the barbarian’s arm wrapped around his throat. “That’s a terrible idea! Do you remember what just happ—”

  Frederic ignored Liam, climbed on top of the table, and shouted, “EVERYBODY STOP!”

  Amazingly, everybody did stop. In mid-punch, in some cases.

  “Do any of you people know who you’re attacking?” Frederic asked.

  “No, do tell,” the bearded pirate called to him, amused. “Whom exactly are we kickin’ the tar out of?”

  Frederic gestured to Liam. “This man is Prince Liam of Erinthia,” he said. There was a murmur of recognition from a few among the crowd. “Yes, that’s right,” Frederic went on. “He’s the guy who dumped Sleeping Beauty.”

  Liam closed his eyes, incredulous that Frederic could have somehow managed to make this dreadful situation even worse.

  “Hey, I heard about that guy. He spit in the princess’s milk,” shouted one of the thugs.

  A roar of laughter rose from the mob.

  “That’s right,” another criminal called out. “And he threw rotten eggs at the royal family’s prize poodles. And wiped his dirty feet on the Avondellian flag!”

  “Someone told me he sprinkled hot red pepper flakes into Sleeping Beauty’s goldfish bowl,” another thug cried.

  “Ooh! That’s wicked!” someone shouted.

  “I heard this guy drew a mustache on the queen’s
portrait!” the bearded pirate said.

  “No,” Frederic corrected, “he actually drew it on the queen!”

  “Classic!” somebody yelled.

  By now the entire mob had given up on fighting. The barbarian released his grip on Liam.

  “Didya really do all that?” the pirate asked.

  Liam had to admit Frederic’s plan was pretty ingenious. “If you can’t believe a random rumor, what can you believe?” he said coyly.

  “Oh, Liam’s just being modest,” Frederic said. “Did you hear that after he tore down the flag of Avondell and wiped his feet on it, he ran a pair of Sleeping Beauty’s bloomers up the flagpole?”

  More laughter sounded throughout the tavern.

  “Oh, yes,” Frederic continued. “My friend Liam here may not be a regular at your establishment, but believe me, he’s quite at home in a place like this. And he’s not the only one.” Frederic scanned the room for Duncan and spotted him stretched across the bar with a funnel in his mouth (and a grinning burglar about to pour a jar labeled PICKLED TENTACLES into it).

  “That man back there,” Frederic announced, “is Duncan the Daring.”

  “Never heard of him,” someone called out.

  “Not yet, maybe. But you will,” Frederic said. “Duncan recently faced Deeb Rauber—the Bandit King—in a duel. And he won.”

  The burglar backed off.

  “Yer makin’ that up,” the half ogre growled.

  “No, he’s not,” said one of the thieves. “I think it’s true. My cousin works for the Bandit King, and he was just telling me that Rauber set up a duel with a prisoner of his, but that it didn’t go very well and the guy got away.” The thief pointed to Duncan. “Was that really you?”

  Duncan spit out the funnel, stood up on the bar, and took a bow. “Absolutely!” he exclaimed with delight. “Got out without a scratch on me! Ta-da!”

  “Oh, yeah?” the big barbarian challenged. “What about that big bump you got there?”

  “Oh, this?” Duncan said, touching the bruise on his forehead. “The Bandit King didn’t do that to me; that was from the battle with the giant and the dragon.”

  Gasps were heard from around the room.

  “It’s all true,” Frederic said. “And if I might introduce you to the next member of our formidable team… Gustav, where are you?”

  Gustav burst out from under a pile of brawny buccaneers. In his burned and battered armor, with his heaving, hulking muscles and scalded bald head, he looked downright terrifying.

  “What?” he growled.

  “This is Prince Gustav, from the royal family right here in Sturmhagen,” Frederic announced.

  “Wait a minute,” said an assassin. “He’s the Rapunzel guy, isn’t he? He didn’t do anything!”

  “Oh, didn’t he?” Frederic asked. “He got thrown out of a ninety-foot tower, got his eyes scratched out, and walked away from it all alive and well. If that’s not an impressive feat, I don’t know what is.”

  Some of the hooligans murmured softly as they considered this point.

  “When I first met Gustav,” Frederic continued, “he had just been thrown through a fence by a troll—and he was in good enough spirits to start insulting me the moment he saw me. I’ve seen this man get pummeled by bandits, pulled off the roof of a castle, whipped around by a raging giant, and magically sizzled by an evil witch. I watched him get hit full-on by a blast of dragon fire. Heck, you’ve all been beating on him for the past five minutes. And look at him! He’s just waiting for more. Gustav is unstoppable! Believe me, he’s not a man you want to mess with.”

  All the villains silently stepped away from Gustav, giving him plenty of space. He grinned at Frederic.

  “Maybe your friends aren’t so bad, after all,” said the bearded pirate. “But what about you? Who are you supposed to be?”

  “Me?” Frederic asked. It hadn’t been difficult to figure out how to spin each of his companions’ stories in a way that would appeal to this rough-and-tumble crowd, but how could he do that for himself? What about him—what trait of his—could he possibly use to impress this tavern full of ruthless criminals? He was stumped. He smiled at the villains to buy himself some time to think. A few of them grinned back, in spite of themselves.

  And suddenly he knew exactly what to say: “I’m Prince Charming. People like me.”

  21

  PRINCE CHARMING JOINS A GANG

  Frederic, you were brilliant,” Liam said.

  The four princes were once again sitting by themselves at the table in the corner of the Stumpy Boarhound. Once the tavern patrons realized they had celebrities in their midst, they oohed and aahed for a few minutes—the big barbarian asked Frederic to autograph his belly—and then they respectfully agreed to leave the famous quartet to their own business. The bartender, a jowly, stubble-faced man who went by the name of Boniface K. Ripsnard, even supplied the princes with a few rags and a basin of soapy water so they could clean up.

  “Yep, nice job, Harmonia,” Gustav chimed in.

  “Thanks,” Frederic said with aw-shucks boyishness.

  “I usually hate it when the dwarfs call me Duncan the Daring,” Duncan added. “But I liked when you said it. It sounded different.”

  “Because I meant it,” Frederic said. “You volunteered for a duel with the Bandit King, you stood up to a giant twenty times your size—of course you’re daring.”

  Ripsnard the bartender approached their table and set down four big mugs. Each was filled with some sort of thick, foamy, yellow-brown liquid.

  “Compliments of the house,” Ripsnard said.

  “Thank you, sir,” Frederic said as the man walked away.

  “I’m not drinking that,” Liam said as soon as the bartender was out of earshot.

  Duncan sniffed the drink and shivered. “Eew! What is it?”

  “I have no idea,” said Frederic, grimacing as he watched bubbles rise to the surface of the drink. “Something’s swimming in mine.”

  Gustav grabbed his mug by its oversize handle and downed the entire beverage in one huge gulp. He slammed the empty mug back on the table and wiped his mouth on his sleeve.

  “That was awful,” he said, wincing.

  The other three laughed, and even Gustav himself smiled.

  “So tell us, Liam,” Frederic said. “What’s the new plan?”

  “Wait, wait! Don’t tell me,” Duncan said. “Can we take guesses first? I’m thinking it involves flying monkeys.”

  “Alas, Duncan, I don’t believe those exist, so we’ll have to make do without,” Liam said. “But I have been thinking about a new plan, if you men are really willing to hear it. It would include all four of us, so I need to know: Are you all with me?”

  “I am,” Frederic said. “Now that I know I can serve a purpose.”

  “I never wanted to leave to begin with,” Duncan said, beaming.

  “Gustav?” Liam asked.

  Gustav shrugged. “I know when I’m outnumbered.”

  “No, you don’t,” Frederic laughed. “Only ten minutes ago you threw yourself into a mob of about thirty people.”

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Gustav said dismissively. “I’m still here, all right?”

  “You know, Frederic’s got a point,” Liam said. “You don’t know when to hold back, Gustav. But that’s who you are. I should have taken that into account. You see, my biggest error was in not recognizing the individual strengths of everyone in this group. It took Frederic here to help me realize what those strengths are.

  “Gustav, you can take a ridiculous amount of punishment. We need to use that. Frederic, you’re a talker. You’re the diplomat of our group. And Duncan, well, you can always be counted on to do something utterly insane. And I mean that in the best possible way. You’re not risk-averse.”

  “No offense taken,” Duncan said.

  “So how do we use these, um, talents?” Frederic asked.

  “Okay, but please hear me out before you start complaining,” Li
am began. The others leaned in. “First thing we need to do is go back to Zaubera’s tower and get that map. Unless there’s some new bit of craziness thrown at us, we have three obstacles to deal with: The giant, the dragon, and the witch. Frederic, the giant is yours.”

  “The giant?” Frederic asked. He was feeling more game than ever, but the thought of facing the giant by himself seemed both terrifying and unwise.

  “Yes,” Liam said. “You need to keep him distracted. I don’t want you to fight him. I want you to talk to him. Play mind games with him; keep him listening to you. Just make sure he’s not paying attention to the rest of us.”

  “I’m supposed to walk up to the giant—the same giant that almost squashed me—and start up a conversation with him?” Frederic was skeptical. “You don’t think he’d find that suspicious?”

  “Of course he would,” Liam said. “We have to make sure it’s believable. That’s why I want you to let him capture you.”

  Frederic gulped.

  “I don’t like it,” said Gustav.

  “Frederic can handle this,” Liam said. “I trust him.”

  “If anything happens to him, I’ll pop your head like a tomato,” Gustav said.

  “Gustav, it’s okay,” Frederic said, putting a hand on Gustav’s shoulder to calm him. “I want to try. Besides, I’m sure you’ll have an important part in this plan yourself.”

  “Yes, Gustav, I want you to take care of the dragon,” Liam instructed.

  “Now you’re talking.” Gustav perked up.

  “The goal here is distraction,” Liam said. “Same general idea as with Frederic and the giant. The dragon is an animal; if it sees something it wants, it will chase it. Get it to go after you; then just keep moving. If it knocks you down, get back up. But don’t let it stop you, and don’t let it give up on you. Keep it busy.” And please try not to die, Liam thought. He knew Gustav’s portion of the plan was the riskiest, but Gustav was the only one of them cut out for it.

  “I don’t know,” Gustav said skeptically. “I usually run at stuff, not away from it.”