The Hero’s Guide to Saving Your Kingdom

Gustav walked to the base of the tower, looked to the window above, and yelled, “Cinderella, let down your hair!”

Ella looked perplexed. “But it only comes to my shoulders!”

Gustav walked back to Frederic and shrugged. “That’s all I’ve got. I’m out of ideas.”

Frederic was befuddled. “Well, there must be some way up there. I mean, she got up there.” He called up to Ella, “How did you get up there?”

Ella glimpsed something out of the corner of her eye. “Run! She’s coming!”

Frederic and Gustav darted under the cover of the nearby trees. They saw a tall, thin woman draped in red and gray rags emerge into the clearing. Her pale skin was creased and lined, and tufts of white hair shot from her head in random directions.

“Zaubera?” Frederic asked.

Gustav nodded. “Let’s watch and see how she gets up there.”

With a voice like broken bagpipes, the witch yelled up to Ella in the tower. “I could have sworn I heard you talking to someone, dearie. When I get up there, I had better find you alone.” Then she turned toward the woods and called out, “Reese!”

Soon there was a loud rumble. Branches shook and leaves fell as a man taller than the tower itself muscled his way through the trees and stomped into the clearing. The giant reached Zaubera in one enormous step, then knelt and placed his hand on the ground, palm up, for the witch to climb onto. He easily lifted the old woman up to the tower window, and she stepped inside.

“Well,” said Frederic. “We can’t get in that way.”

That was when Gustav went berserk. He whipped out his big, double-bladed ax and ran into the clearing with a long, thundering shout of “Stuuuuuuuurm-haaaaaay-gennnnnnn!” The giant, dumbfounded, simply stood and stared. So did Frederic.

Gustav slammed his ax into Reese’s humongous shin. With a bellow of pain, the giant grabbed his injured right leg and began hopping up and down on his left foot. The ground trembled with every hop, causing Gustav to tumble over himself. He dropped his weapon as he fell, and the heavy ax blade plunked down into the loamy soil. From the trees, Frederic watched in horror as his companion crawled to retrieve the weapon, unaware that he was directly in the shadow of the giant’s enormous right foot. Gustav was about to be squashed like a bug.

Think! Frederic told himself. What would Sir Bertram the Dainty do? The answer came to him. In The Case of the Ill-Mannered Milkmaid, Sir Bertram had to get the attention of a governess who was about to use the wrong kind of wineglass. Frederic could use the same tactic here. Eight years of yodeling lessons were about to pay off. Frederic cupped his hands to his mouth and let out a long: “Yodel-odel-odel-odel-ay-hee-hooooooo!”

It worked. Nothing annoyed Gustav more than yodeling. As soon as he heard the trilly alpine melody, he glanced angrily at Frederic—who was frantically gesturing upward. Gustav dove out of the way just as the giant’s big bare foot smashed down—and landed directly on the lost battle-ax.

“Yow!” Reese bellowed, hop-ping in pain once again. Only this time, he couldn’t keep his balance. The giant staggered backward and collapsed into the stone tower.

“Uh-oh,” Reese moaned. The entire structure wobbled, and huge chunks of stone began to shower down.

“Oh, no,” said Gustav as the tower collapsed into a pile of stone and clouds of dust. Another failure. And this time there would be a song about how he not only didn’t rescue the girl, but actually killed her by accident.

“Ella!” Frederic screamed. This is my fault, he thought. Ella is gone, all because I tried to be something I’m not. I should have listened to my father.

But as the giant sat up and brushed away the loose bricks and stones that littered the clearing, he revealed an astonishing sight. Inside a shimmering green bubble of energy, the witch stood completely unharmed. And Ella was draped over her bony shoulder, alive and kicking hard.

“A magic shield,” Gustav said. Frederic nearly fainted with relief.

“Reese, you big oaf! Look what you did!” Zaubera hissed.

Reese pointed a huge finger at the princes. “It was their fault.”

The witch turned to see whom Reese was talking about, but Frederic had already hustled Gustav back into the trees. Hiding under a gorse bush, the two princes listened to Zaubera.

“Don’t tell me you’re blaming the bunnies, Reese,” the witch said.

“No, ma’am,” the giant said. “It was a couple of men. They were trying to get the girl.”

Gustav popped up out of the bush. “Put Cinderella down, old lady!”

Frederic leapt up onto Gustav’s back and yanked him back down into the shrubbery.

“See?” Reese said, feeling vindicated. “Should I smash them?”

“Never mind those buffoons, Reese,” Zaubera said as her thin, colorless lips curled into a smile. “Did you hear what they just called our prisoner here?” The witch grabbed a handful of Ella’s hair and looked her in the eyes. “Well, look at this,” Zaubera chuckled. “Forget the singing ransom-grams, Reese. I’ve got a genuine celebrity for a hostage. Cinderella. This is going to require a much more spectacular announcement. Ooh, this is going to be fun.”

Ella glared back at her, unwilling to show the witch any fear.

“But what if the heroes follow us, ma’am?” Reese asked.

“Hero, singular,” Zaubera replied. “One of them is a complete coward. And yes, the hero will follow us. That’s what heroes do. We’ll just be ready for him. When we catch him and his sidekick, you can grind their bones into bread. Now come.”

“Yes, ma’am,” the giant intoned in his booming voice. “But bread made from bones sounds awful, you know.”

“I didn’t hire you to be a meal planner, Reese,” grated the witch. “Start walking.”

“All right,” the giant rumbled. “Have you ever tried it? Bone bread, I mean. I can’t imagine it tastes good. And you’d still need flour, no?”

“Shut up, Reese.”

“My foot hurts.”

“Try wearing shoes, imbecile.”

After a couple of minutes, their voices and Reese’s thundering footsteps could no longer be heard. The princes crawled from under the gorse bush. Out of habit, Frederic tried to dust off his soiled and torn suit but quickly realized it was a lost cause.

“Okay, let’s go,” Gustav said.

“Go where?” Frederic asked.

“You want your woman back, right?” Gustav said. “We’re following them.”

“No,” said Frederic. “We’re not. I am not going anywhere with you. You nearly got Ella killed. You would have died yourself, if I hadn’t done something.”

“You yodeled,” Gustav snarled with contempt.

“At least I did something,” Frederic returned. “How could you not have noticed those horribly callused toes looming above you?”

Gustav brought his face very near Frederic’s, close enough for Frederic to feel his breath. “Are you telling me I’m not a good enough hero for you?”

Frederic tried very hard not to blink.

“Are you saying that I can’t do this?” Gustav hissed. “That I can’t rescue someone? That you—Mr. Silky White Pants and Fancy Golden Dingle-Dangles—are better than me?” His forehead touched Frederic’s.

“No,” Frederic muttered. He was only slightly less afraid of Gustav than he was of the giant. “I’m not saying that at all. Of course I need your help.”

Gustav inched back.

“You did find Ella, after all,” Frederic went on. “I’m sorry I underestimated you there. But this isn’t just about finding a missing person anymore; this is a rescue mission. And a dangerous one, considering there’s a witch and a giant involved. So maybe the two of us aren’t enough. Maybe we could use a little extra help. Another set of hands, maybe. That’s all.”

Gustav thought about this for a moment. “I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to have another swordsman at my side,” he said.

“Someone with a little more experience in rescuing people from witches and monsters, perhaps?” Frederic offered.

“Ha!” Gustav laughed. “Who are you going to get? That guy from ‘Sleeping Beauty’?”

Liam never doubted that he was a hero. If anything, he was a little too sure of it. You can’t really blame him, though; people had been treating him like a demigod ever since he was a young child. The adulation began shortly after the birth of Princess Briar Rose, the daughter of the king and queen of Avondell. In a rare instance of international communication, they announced that they were looking for a suitable prince to whom she could be engaged. When the princess came of age, she would marry this prince, forever joining her kingdom with his.

As it so happened, the kingdom of Avondell sat upon a seemingly endless chain of gold mines. Whichever nation managed to hook up with Avondell would become super rich. Gareth, the king of Erinthia, which sat just across the border (and therefore just out of reach of Avondell’s gold), wanted in on that. The treasure-hungry King Gareth suggested his then three-year-old son, Liam, as a worthy future husband for Princess Briar. Unfortunately, lots of other countries were itching for a shot at Avondell’s gold as well, and the competition for Briar Rose’s tiny hand was fierce. Little princes from around the world lined up to present themselves before the royal couple of Avondell—and each seemed to have a special skill. There was a tap-dancing toddler from Valerium and a baby from Svenlandia whose parents claimed he could “speak dolphin.” A four-year-old from Jangleheim absolutely rocked on the flügelhorn. And a five-year-old prince from Sturmhagen (one of Gustav’s brothers) demonstrated his ability to kick a chicken forty yards.

Afraid that little Liam wouldn’t stand out in the crowd, his father resorted to trickery. Just as Liam toddled out in front of the king and queen of Avondell, two masked assassins burst into the throne room. They were actually actors hired by Gareth, and each wore a cinnamon stick—young Liam’s favorite treat—tied around his boot. The two “assassins” positioned themselves between the preschool prince and the royal couple—and as soon as Liam excitedly grabbed at the cinnamon sticks on their legs, the actors proved how good they were at their craft. As the boy pulled and tugged at the sweets, the actors threw themselves around and howled in pain. They spun, flipped, and smashed into each other. To the rulers of Avondell it looked as if the three-year-old was beating the grown men senseless. When the royal guards reached the scene of the “fight,” little Liam was standing over two seemingly unconscious assassins, slurping happily on a cinnamon stick.

After that, there was no question as to which prince would be selected to wed Briar Rose. The king of Erinthia took his son home in triumph. The boy was treated to awards, parades, and festivals held in his honor. The two actors, by the way, were unable to prove their innocence and were locked away in an Avondellian dungeon for life, but King Gareth didn’t worry about that: He was going to be rich (well, richer—he was already a king).

Young Prince Liam thrived on all the attention, though he was unsure of exactly why he was getting it.

“Why does everybody love me so much?” he asked his father.

King Gareth didn’t want to tell his son the truth—that, for the most part, the people of Erinthia were as greedy as their king was, and they cherished Liam because they knew he would someday make their nation unbelievably wealthy by marrying into the Avondell fortune. Instead he told his son, “Because you’re a hero.”

That was all Liam needed to hear. From that point on, he devoted himself to being a one-man army, on call to rescue anyone in need. And he was really good at it. He had strength, courage, agility, and natural skill with a sword. He even looked the part: tall and lean, with caramel-toned skin, bright green eyes, and lustrous, black hair that appeared permanently windswept.

Here’s what a typical day for Liam might be like: Breakfast; foil a burglary; lunch; rescue lost children from ferocious wolves; serve as guest of honor at ribbon-cutting ceremony for new blacksmith shop; dinner; carry frail grandmother from burning building; healthy snack; bed.

Of course, Liam never realized it was all unnecessary, that he could have lolled about in a hammock all day, sipping juice from a coconut, and his people still would have idolized him—which was fortunate, because Liam’s reputation as a hero meant everything to him.

The one time Liam wasn’t around to stop a crime—when the legendary Sword of Erinthia, a priceless heirloom, was stolen from its display case in the royal museum—he prepared himself for the worst. He assumed the unending stream of praise and admiration would quickly dry up, so he gathered the citizenry to apologize to them all publicly. He was shocked to see that people arrived carrying signs that read, WE HEART LIAM. Somebody had even carved a butter sculpture of him. Seriously, they didn’t care about the heroics.

At least, they didn’t until the Sleeping Beauty incident. If Liam hadn’t come to the rescue there, the royal wedding would have been at risk. When an evil fairy put Princess Briar Rose—and all the people of Avondell—under a spell that would have kept them asleep for a hundred years, you’d better believe the people of Erinthia wanted Liam to head over there and save the day. Which he did, of course.

Liam tracked down the bad fairy, snuck up on her, and held her by the wings until she revealed that kissing Briar Rose would break the curse. Once he had the information he needed, Liam nobly released his foe. The fairy repaid this kindness by transforming herself into an enormous toothy demon and trying to bite Liam’s head off. After a long-drawn-out battle featuring backflips, body slams, karate chops, and even a few good horse kicks, he won the day by running the fairy-beast through with his sword.

One quick peck on the lips later, Briar Rose and her entire kingdom were eyes-open and celebrating.

The weeks that followed were among the happiest of Liam’s life. He was treated to parties and processions in both kingdoms, and a seemingly endless stream of awards and gifts. The only sore spot came when minstrels began spreading “The Tale of the Sleeping Beauty” far and wide. Liam had never been much of a fan of Erinthia’s royal songsmith, Tyrese the Tuneful—the man seemed too obsessed with singing about bad guys (“The Ballad of the Bandit King,” “The Giant Goes A-Smashing,” “The Bandit King Rides Again,” etc.) to bother writing songs about any of Liam’s heroic exploits. And now that he finally had, he managed to leave Liam’s name out of the story entirely. The prince was seriously irked but took solace in all the adoration he got from his hometown crowd.

After the hullabaloo finally died down, it occurred to Liam that he had never really spoken to Briar Rose other than to say, “Good morning. You can consider yourself rescued.” He was curious to know more about her. So he did something extremely rare: He sent her a note. Even more shocking, he suggested they meet. In person. Two people from different kingdoms—who are engaged to be married—seeing and talking to each other. Crazy, I know.

Liam sent a message suggesting that he and Briar meet in the Avondellian royal gardens and spend some getting-to-know-you time together. He was surprised when the princess’s reply came back reading, “What’s to learn? I know your name. I know where you live. Just be there on the wedding day.”

Liam decided to try again. His messenger returned to Avondell with a new note in which Liam eloquently and passionately explained why it was so important for him and Briar to truly know and understand each other before they got married. This time the response was slightly more positive: “Whatever.”

And so they met. Back when Liam had first seen the sleeping Briar Rose, he thought she was, indeed, a beauty (which made the whole kissing part somewhat easier). With pale white cheeks and thick, auburn curls that surrounded her head like an enormous, poufy halo, the princess had appeared soft and sweet, almost angelic. But as Liam walked into the rose garden that day and saw Briar standing with her hands on her hips, her brows arched, and her lips twisted into a tight knot, he was taken aback. Something seemed much harsher about her. Liam tried to overlook it and approached her with a gentlemanly bow.

“Thanks for meeting with me,” he said. “With the wedding only a few days away, I’m looking forward to getting to know the real you.”

Catching him completely off guard, Briar put both hands against his chest and pushed him down onto a nearby bench. “Listen up, hero,” she barked. “Don’t think that just because you offed some witch, you can take charge here.”

“She was a fairy, not a witch,” he said, stunned by Briar’s forcefulness. “And I’m not sure what you’re upset about.”

“I know you’ve got a pretty high opinion of yourself,” Briar said. “But that’s not going to fly with me. My parents raised me to be a proper princess. That means I get what I want, when I want it. In this marriage, you work for me.”

Liam was flabbergasted. “I work for the people,” he said. “I offer my services wherever I’m needed.”

“The people! Ha!” Briar snorted, whipping her impressive mane of curly hair. “The people are here to shine my tiaras and cook my puddings. I had to spend my entire childhood in hiding because of that stupid witch—”

“Fairy.”

“— and now that I’m finally in my rightful place, I’m going to start living like the princess I was meant to be. If I want entertainment, someone will dance for me. If I am thirsty, someone will give me their jug of water. If I want a cake, someone will use their last ounce of flour to bake me one. Watch this.”

Briar reached down and messily yanked handfuls of rare orchids up out of their flower beds. She crumpled the priceless blooms between her fingers and threw the broken stems and petals down onto the cobblestone path. “You know who’s going to travel to the farthest reaches of Kom-Pai and fight off venomous snakes in order to find new orchids for me?” she asked with a wicked grin. “The people.”

Briar strolled up to Liam and flicked a loose flower petal into his face. “What’s the matter, hubby? Speechless?”

“Don’t call me hubby,” Liam said, with a note of disgust. Even with all the monster battles he’d fought and death traps he’d escaped, this conversation was the single most unnerving experience he’d ever had. “You know, I’m not sure I want to marry you,” he said.

“Why not?”

“Because you’re mean.”

“Wah, wah,” she fake-cried. “Get a backbone, hero.”

“Please tell me this is some sort of joke.”

“You wanted the real me, you got it. Briar Rose doesn’t censor herself for anyone.”

“Then there’s no point to any of this,” Liam said sadly. “I can never love someone like you.”

“That’s where you’re wrong, puppy. It’s common knowledge that I’m your true love.”

“According to whom?” Liam exclaimed. “The evil fairy who tried to kill us all? She’s the one who said ‘true love’s kiss’ would break the spell. But she also turned into a monster and tried to eat me. We’re supposed to take her word for it?”

“Blah, blah, blah, blah,” Briar mocked, opening and closing her hand like a puppet’s mouth. “You and I are still getting married. Our parents arranged this years ago. And you’re a real catch: You’re well liked, you come from a respected family, and you’re not too hard on the eyes. You’re just the kind of guy I want sitting on a throne next to me to make people feel safe and unthreatened before I turn their lives into nightmares.”

“I’ll never go along with this,” Liam insisted.

“It’s not like you have much of a choice in the matter. Face it, you’re stuck with me, Prince Charming.” Briar poked a finger into his chest with every syllable of Prince-Charm-ing, then sat down on a bench across from Liam and kicked her feet up onto a birdbath, knocking away a frightened wren as she did. “Now go peel me some kumquats.”

Liam walked away without a word, got on his horse, and headed back to Erinthia, where he gave word that he would be addressing the people that afternoon.

The citizens of Erinthia gathered by the thousands outside the royal palace, all eyes on the gold-trimmed marble balcony overhead, from which their prince would soon be addressing them. Applause broke out as a set of stained-glass doors opened wide and Liam strode out to greet the crowd. He wore a billowy blue tunic with black pants tucked into brown leather boots; there was a sword at his side, and a wine-colored cape fluttering behind him in the breeze. Before he spoke, Liam took a moment to gaze on the wildly enthusiastic audience below. Who needs a wife, he thought, when I’ve got all these devoted fans?

Liam’s mother and father, Queen Gertrude and King Gareth, stepped out onto the balcony behind him. They were followed by Liam’s twelve-year-old sister, Princess Lila, who ran up and gave Liam a quick smooch on the cheek before retreating to the back of the balcony. Lila, who wore her chestnut hair in loose, dangly ringlets and liked to roll up the sleeves on the elegant gowns her parents forced her to wear, might have been young, but she was Liam’s closest confidante—and the only person in Erinthia who appreciated Liam for his actual good deeds. Yet even she didn’t know why Liam had scheduled this appearance.

The king tapped Liam on the shoulder. “We are all eager to hear your big announcement,” Gareth said, hoping that Liam had decided to honeymoon in Valerium as he and the queen had suggested. The lobster rolls were so good there this time of year. “I wanted to have Tyrese here to record it all, but no one seems to know where he is at the moment.”

“Don’t worry about the bard, Father,” Liam said. “I’ll make this quick.”

He faced the crowd.

“People of Erinthia,” the prince said. The din of voices below hushed. “Thank you for coming out today. And thank you for all the kindness you have shown me and my family.” He gestured to his parents, and the crowd erupted into applause again. As soon as the noise died down, Liam continued.

“I’ve got some important news about the royal wedding.”

“Will there be cheesecake?” someone shouted.

“No, I’m sorry. No cheesecake. Actually—”

“Will you be taking your vows in a hot-air balloon?” another voice called out.

“No, of course not. Why would someone do that? So, about the wedding—”

“Will there be little sausages on toothpicks and a choice of dipping sauces?” yet another person yelled.

“No.”

“What about cheesecake?”

“I already said there’d be no cheesecake. Look, people, please let me—”

“Will you ride up the aisle on a unicorn?”

“There’s not going to be any wedding!” the prince blurted out. The entire crowd gasped in near unison, as did the king and queen. “I’m sorry. But that’s what I’ve called you all here to tell you. The wedding is off. Princess Briar Rose and I have discussed the matter, and we’ve decided that we’re better off just as friends.” No matter how much he disliked Briar, he didn’t want to bad-mouth her to his people.

As the citizenry murmured with agitation, the king skittered forward, next to his son, and addressed the crowd. “Ha-ha. Oh, that Liam. Your prince is just joshing with us all.”

“No, Father, I’m not,” said Liam. “I’m serious.”

“I told you’d he’d eventually ruin everything,” Queen Gertrude griped bitterly. “He was always too much of a Goody Two-shoes.”