The Hero's Guide to Saving Your Kingdom (6 page)

“Shovel Lady no hit Troll,” it mumbled as it stood up. “Troll make no trouble. Troll go.”

Enter Prince Gustav. Clad in clanking, fur-trimmed armor and wielding a large, shining battle-ax, he charged at the troll on horseback.

“Not so fast, beast!” Gustav shouted as he approached, his long blond hair flowing behind him. Without stopping his horse, he leapt from the saddle, turning himself into a human missile, and knocked the troll flat onto its back. The prince and the troll rolled through the garden in one clanking, grunting mass, smashing down freshly sprouted beet plants, until the creature finally got back to its feet and tossed Gustav off. The prince crashed through the wooden planks of the farmer’s fence but nimbly picked himself back up, ready to charge the monster again. That was when Gustav spotted the bright red beet juice around the troll’s mouth.

“Child eater!” he screamed. All the children were, of course, perfectly fine—and had actually filed back out into the yard to watch the fight—but Gustav was too focused on the monster to notice. The prince swung his ax. The troll caught the weapon in its large, clawed hands, yanked it away from Gustav, and tossed it off into a corner of the farmyard, where it shattered several barrels of pickled beets with a crunch and a splat.

“Starf it all,” Gustav cursed (which prompted some of the older children to cover the ears of the younger ones).

Now unarmed, the prince stood face-to-face with the troll. The monster was nearly three feet taller than him, but Gustav showed no hint of fear. Gustav didn’t really do “fear.” Annoyance, consternation, occasionally embarrassment: Those were emotions Gustav was familiar with. But not fear.

“Why Angry Man do that?” the troll asked. Gustav charged at the creature, but it grabbed him in mid-run and lifted him into the air. The troll spun the prince upside down and rammed him headfirst into the ground with a pile-driver-like maneuver. Dazed, Gustav tried to crawl away, but the troll, still holding him by the feet, swung him to the left, smashing him through a stack of wooden crates. The monster then swung him back to the right, wrapping him around a fence post. Gustav swung his fist at the troll, but his punch didn’t even land. The creature hoisted him overhead and was ready to chuck him up onto the farmhouse roof, when Rosilda stepped up behind the troll and smacked it in the back of the head with her shovel.

“Ow!” The troll dropped Gustav in the dirt and rubbed the sore spot on its skull. “Shovel Lady said Shovel Lady would not hit Troll.”

“That was before you started beating up on that poor man,” Rosilda snapped. “Now get out of here.”

“But Angry Man hit Troll first.”

“I don’t care. You get out.” She raised the shovel again.

“No more, no more. Troll go.” And the huge creature shuffled off toward the forest. The children burst into cheers and danced around the garden.

Rosilda held her hand out to Gustav, who still lay on the ground. He angrily waved the woman’s hand away and stood up by himself. “I had it under control,” he scolded. “You shouldn’t have put yourself in harm’s way.”

“You know, the troll was about to leave when you jumped on him,” Rosilda said. “Everything was fine. And now look—you’ve wrecked our garden.”

Gustav surveyed the yard. There were broken fences, smashed barrels, squashed beets, and row after row of flattened plants. “You care about a few vegetables? The monster ate your children!” he shouted.

“It did no such thing,” the woman scoffed.

“It had blood on its mouth.”

“Beet juice.”

“Are you sure?” Gustav asked, looking around at the giddy, dancing children. “It must have eaten at least one kid. Have you counted them?”

“Now look here, my knight in shining armor,” Rosilda said as she handed Gustav the beet-stained ax he’d lost. “I know how many wee ones I’ve got, and none of them are in the belly of a troll. Perhaps if you’d taken a second to stop and think before you—”

Rosilda paused and stepped closer to Gustav. “Wait a minute,” she said with a grin. “I know who you are. You’re the prince from that Rapunzel story.”

At that point, the children swarmed around Gustav, oohing and ahhing. He said nothing.

“Yeah, I’m sure it’s you,” Rosilda said. “Prince Charming himself.”

“My name is Gustav.”

“I’ve been to the royal castle, you know,” she said. “I’ve
seen
you there.”

Gustav looked stern. “No, you’re thinking of my brother. He’s Charming. I’m Prince Gustav. Gustav the Mighty.”

At that, a small boy and a small girl each started climbing up one of Gustav’s arms.

“Okay, Your Highness,” Rosilda said. “Why don’t you open up your royal wallet and pay us for the damage you’ve done to our farm?”

“I carry no gold with me,” Gustav said, with a child sitting on each shoulder pulling at his hair. “But I’ll tell the royal treasurer to send you some money.”

He tried to walk away before the woman pried any further into his least favorite topic, but was slowed down by two more children, one sitting on each of his feet, hugging his heavy, fur-lined boots.

“Tell me one thing, Your Highness,” Rosilda called to him. “Why didn’t you get a ladder?”

That question
again
? It was more than Gustav could bear. He shook off the children, who all dropped, giggling, into the dirt. “Pah!” was all he offered in response.

“When you get back to your castle, why don’t you tell that Lyrical Leif that he needs to write some new material?” Rosilda said with a smirk. “It’s been months now, and I’m gettin’ tired of hearing about how that sweet girl saved your life.”

“For your information, that weaselly song-spitter hasn’t shown his face around Castle Sturmhagen in weeks,” Gustav snarled. “And I say, good riddance!”

He abruptly turned his back on Rosilda and hopped onto his dark brown warhorse. He planned to speed off and kick up a cloud of dust at this annoying woman, but before he could spur the horse on, a newcomer approached the farm. This fellow was also on horseback, riding a light tan mare. He was hunched awkwardly in the saddle and moving very slowly. The rider stopped and looked up when he reached the farmyard gate. Gustav, Rosilda, and the children all stared at the stranger’s very odd attire: a dusty white suit, decked with gold trim and tassels.

“Hello,” the man said with a weary smile. “This might sound a bit strange, but are any of you familiar with the tale of Rapunzel? She’s a girl with really long hair, and—”

The delighted children bounced around and pointed at Gustav. “Oh,” said the stranger. “You know the story?”

Rosilda chuckled. “He
is
the story. That’s Prince Charming, right there.”

The stranger’s eyes widened, and he sat upright. “Really? You’re joking. No? Oh, that’s wonderful. You don’t know how terrible this last week has been. I came all the way from Harmonia. I’ve been riding all over, not getting nearly enough sleep, stopping at every village and farm I could find. I’m practically starving—you wouldn’t believe the things that pass for scones in some of these places. I have had to sleep at inns where they obviously don’t change sheets between guests; I have washed my face in the same water that fish
do things
in. I’m sorry; I’m rambling. The point is: I’ve gone through all of this in hopes of finding someone who could point me in Rapunzel’s direction. And now I’ve run into
you
. You, of all people. And it’s even more amazing than you think, because
I’m
Prince Charming, too!”

Gustav narrowed his eyes. “You’re a crazy man.”

“No, I’m sorry, I’m just a little excited. You see, my name is Frederic. But I’m also a Prince Charming. I’m from the Cinderella story.” He flashed a broad smile and offered his hand to Gustav. Gustav didn’t take it; he had no idea what this lunatic was talking about, and he certainly didn’t trust him. The children, on the other hand, applauded wildly at the mention of Cinderella’s name. Frederic gave them a quick salute.

“Okay, let me start over,” Frederic said to Gustav. “I’m looking for my fiancée, Ella—that’s her real name. She left Harmonia about a week ago. All I know is that she was going to Sturmhagen to find Rapunzel. So, if you could be so kind as to lead me to Rapunzel…”

“Follow me,” Gustav said, and started his horse off into the field.

“Oh, fantastic. So how far away is she?”

“I’m not taking you to Rapunzel,” Gustav said. “I want to speak to you out of earshot of this rabble.” And with that, he was off.

“Oh,” said Frederic. “Um, good-bye, children!” He waved to the farmer and her family, and then accidentally walked his horse in a circle three times before getting the animal to follow Gustav down the road.

“Humph,” Rosilda grumbled. “And these are the guys everybody wants to marry? I don’t get it.”

The two men trotted along the meadow-lined dirt road in silence for a while, until Frederic finally spoke. “Soooo… You mentioned something back there about
not
taking me to Rapunzel.”

“That’s right,” said Gustav. “I’m not taking you to Rapunzel.”

“And why is that?”

Feeling they were far enough from the farm, Gustav brought his horse to a stop. “Look,” he said seriously, “are you really the prince from that other story?”

“Yes,” said Frederic as he struggled to line his horse up beside Gustav’s. “Are you really Rapunzel’s prince?”

Gustav huffed. “I’m not
her
prince, but yes, I am the one from that dumb song. I can’t take you to Rapunzel, because she ran off somewhere.”

“Oh.” Frederic looked crestfallen. “So we have something else in common.”

“I didn’t want that farmer woman and her little imps to hear that Rapunzel was gone,” Gustav said. He glared at Frederic. “And if
you
tell anyone, Fancy Man, you’ll regret it.”

“I won’t,” Frederic replied. “But if it’s such a big secret, I’m curious as to why you decided to tell me at all.”

Gustav honestly wasn’t sure why he’d chosen to confide in this ridiculous stranger. Maybe he figured that if there was anyone in the world who could possibly understand him, it would be another of the poor fools cursed to be Prince Charming. But could this guy really even be a prince? He looked like a deranged doorman.
My brothers would eat this guy for lunch
, Gustav thought.
But then again, if my brothers would hate him, maybe he’s not so bad
.

“What happened to your woman?” Gustav asked.

“Ella left because she thought I was boring,” Frederic said. “But you don’t look boring at all. So I’m guessing that wasn’t
your
problem.”

“Boring? Ha! No, it’s far worse than that. Rapunzel is off
helping
people,” Gustav spat. (He simply could not entertain the possibility that his behavior had something to do with Rapunzel’s departure.)

“I don’t understand,” Frederic said. “Helping people is bad?”

“You know the story, right?”

Frederic nodded.

“So you know about the bit with the briar patch?”

“Was it really her tears that restored your sight?” Frederic asked.

“Who knows?” Gustav mumbled. “But
she’s
convinced she saved me. And once that song started going around, it got worse. She was the brave heroine with magical tears. And what was I? I was the jerk who got beaten by an old lady and rescued by a girl. Anyway, she believes she can heal people, so she went off to spread goodness around the world or some nonsense like that. And I’m left here with a reputation to fix....”

“I’m really sorry to hear—”

“Hold your words,” Gustav cut him off. It suddenly hit him that this bizarre man in the silly suit might be offering exactly what he needed—the opportunity for a heroic deed. “This Cinderella person you’re looking for—she’s in some kind of danger? She needs help?”

“Well, not that I know of,” Frederic replied.

“She’s in danger,” Gustav stated matter-of-factly. He saw Frederic flinch at the word “danger”; it should be easy enough to convince him that his girlfriend needed rescuing.

“Sturmhagen is no place for amateur adventurers,” he went on. “There are monsters at every turn.”

“Tigers?” Frederic asked in a barely audible whisper.

“Sure, why not? We’ve got everything else,” Gustav answered. “You know, I saved that farm family from a troll right before you showed up.”

“Are you serious?” Frederic asked, biting his thumbnail.

“Deadly serious,” Gustav said. “Was the girl armed?”

Frederic shook his head.

Gustav tried to stifle his excitement.

“I never step foot outside without my ax,” he said, motioning to the huge weapon that was now strapped to his back. Frederic got a glimpse of the big blade—still dripping with red—and nearly fell off his horse.

“No one’s safe in these woods without a weapon,” Gustav said. “What was she wearing?”

“A blue dress, I think.”

“A dress?” Gustav scoffed. “Look at me.
This
is how you prepare for Sturmhagen.” Gleaming armor plates covered his shoulders. Strapped to his upper arms, wrists, and legs were more metal guards, all lined with heavy fur trim. His torso was draped with a fur-lined tunic. Underneath that, more armor. And his tall iron boots looked strong enough to kick their way through a solid wall.