The Hero's Guide to Saving Your Kingdom (27 page)

“Hey, everybody! They’re friends with a mud-man!”

Liam looked to the other princes. “Let’s go, shall we?”

The four of them fought their way through the mob of people and ran as fast as they could, farther into town.

“Well, I always wanted people to connect the real me to the Prince Charming in the story,” Liam huffed as they ran.

The princes zigzagged around corners, scrambled behind houses, and darted down narrow alleyways, until they were sure they’d lost the mob.

“Wasn’t it daytime just a minute ago?” Frederic asked.

The princes surveyed their surroundings. They stood in a part of town that bore no resemblance whatsoever to the quaint and colorful Flargstagg they’d just seen. The buildings on this side of the village were dark, with boarded-up windows. The cobblestone streets ran thick with slimy green sewage. Rats skittered along the gutters. Even the sunlight had vanished.

“I can’t even manage to get us a little rest without something going wrong,” Liam muttered.

“Look up ahead.” Duncan pointed toward a rather sketchy-looking tavern at the dead end of a dead-end street. The princes approached.

“Hmm, the Stumpy Boarhound,” read Duncan. “Not a great name for an eating establishment. What is a boarhound, anyway? Some kind of pig? Some kind of dog?”

“Either way, it sounds ugly,” Frederic said, peering in through a smudgy window. “I don’t like the looks of the customers. They seem a bit rough around the edges.”

“Where else are we going to go?” Liam asked. He opened the door and entered the Stumpy Boarhound. Which you knew he would do. Because you read the prologue.

Fig. 36 The STUMPY BOARHOUND

20

P
RINCE
C
HARMING
W
ALKS INTO A
B
AR

A
t a small table in the back corner of the sticky-floored, body-odor-scented dining room of the Stumpy Boarhound, the four princes quietly picked at the rattlesnake kebabs that they’d purchased with a few coins Duncan found stuck to the bottom of his boot.

“I’ve never eaten snake before … and apparently, I haven’t been missing much,” Frederic said, squinching up his face in disgust.

“Well, it was either this or something called ‘critter-bit casserole,’” Liam said. “At least with this, we know what
kind
of animal we’re eating.”

“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?”