The Hero's Guide to Saving Your Kingdom (12 page)

P
RINCE
C
HARMING
H
AS
N
O
S
ENSE OF
D
IRECTION

A
s the three princes made their way through the lively forests of Sylvaria, Liam treated the others to a thorough account of exactly how he defeated the evil fairy (“She swung to the left, I dodged to the right. She swiped high, I ducked low”). Frederic listened intently, awed by every detail. Liam was quickly becoming Frederic’s new idol—and Gustav didn’t like it.

“Killing fairies is no great feat,” Gustav said. “I probably step on four or five of them every time I hop off my horse. But I suppose that’s the biggest threat you get in a tea-and-crumpets land like Erinthia. Just wait until we get to Sturmhagen. Then you’ll know what real danger is like. Giants, ogres, dog-men. The
beavers
in Sturmhagen can smack you unconscious.”

“I’m not exactly looking forward to going back there,” Frederic said. He motioned toward the pleasant scenery that surrounded them. “This, on the other hand, is the kind of forest I could get used to.”

“You don’t like Sturmhagen because a fancy-man like you can’t handle a little action now and then,” Gustav said.

“No argument there,” Frederic agreed. “But honestly, wouldn’t you rather live someplace where you could have a picnic without worrying that a troll is going to steal your petits fours?”

“You’re joking, right?” Gustav replied.

“Look around, Gustav,” Frederic continued. “Wouldn’t you prefer these fuzzy little squirrels to ogres and goblins? I mean, I’m terrified of the very idea of ogres. The squirrels only make me mildly nervous.”

Gustav shook his head. “Stop talking.”

“Don’t be fooled by the beauty of this place,” said Liam. “This forest may hold more dangers than you might think. The woods of Erinthia can look just as serene, but one time, a few years back, I was ambushed there by bloodthirsty bandits. There were seven of them, and by all rights, I never should have made it out alive. But I noticed that the leader of these thugs had a strange twitch in his right eye—”

“Stop talking,” Gustav said.

“But I haven’t gotten to the best part,” Liam said.

“
Stop talking
, Cape-Man!” Gustav barked. “There’s someone in the bushes!”

At that moment, a man burst out from behind some nearby shrubbery. The three princes were all startled, as was the newcomer, who yelped and did a dancey little jump when he saw them. But as soon as he realized that the three men on horseback didn’t seem to be criminals or monsters, he calmed down and flashed them a smile. The stranger was a slight, shortish man. He wore a velvety blue tunic with puffed cap sleeves and a frilly white ruff around his neck. The tunic was belted at the waist, so that the bottom of the garment flared out like a skirt. He had a short, green half cape on his shoulders, and a feathered green cap partly covered his wavy black hair. On his legs, he wore striped tights. Vertically striped tights. Green and blue vertically striped tights.

“Oh, hello,” the man said. “I’m so happy to run into you fellows. You see, I was out for a nice walk in the woods and—heh-heh—I must have taken a wrong turn somewhere, because I got a little lost.”

“How do we know you’re not a bandit?” Frederic asked.

Gustav snorted. “No bandit would be caught dead dressed like that.”

“Oh, you don’t recognize me? You’re obviously not from around here, then,” the man said. “I’m Duncan, prince of this kingdom. At least I think it’s this kingdom. Are we still in Sylvaria? Anyway, it’s nice to meet you all.”

Fig. 16 Prince DUNCAN

Now, I know what you’re thinking: Really? Snow White’s prince just happened to wander through an enormous, miles-deep forest and bump right into the other three princes? That sounds unlikely.

But you see, unlikely things had been happening to Duncan for his entire life. When he was five, he went sledding down a large hill, veered off course, and just happened to land in a giant chest of gold coins that had been lost hundreds of years earlier. When he was eleven, he got up in the middle of the night for a glass of water, accidentally tripped down a flight of steps, and just happened to bowl over a thief who was in the process of stealing the crown jewels. And then one day, while out on his daily stroll, he just happened to stumble upon a beautiful princess who’d been put under a sleeping spell. A lifetime of astonishing coincidences like these had led Duncan to believe that he possessed some sort of mystical “good luck power.” He didn’t, of course. Coincidences can happen to anyone, and luck is a completely random phenomenon. But Duncan truly believed
his
luck was magical.

The other thing you need to understand about Duncan—and you might have already guessed this—is that he was odd. All the princes had their issues—Frederic was easily intimidated, Liam’s ego could stand to be reined in a bit, and Gustav could use some impulse control—but Duncan was flat-out strange. We all know somebody who’s a bit eccentric—the girl who talks to herself, maybe, or the boy who eats the erasers off his pencils like they’re gumdrops. They could be wonderful people, but thanks to their quirky behavior, they don’t have the easiest time making friends. This was true of Duncan as well.

If Duncan
were
to become your friend, he would bring a lot of positive energy to your day, he’d certainly make you laugh, and he’d prove himself to be perhaps the most loyal pal you would ever have. Nobody ever got close enough to Duncan to learn this, though. His questionable fashion choices and weird habits (such as trying to play his teeth like a piano) had a way of turning people off.

One time, when Duncan was eight years old, he entered an art contest with a scribbly drawing of two stick figures kissing potatoes. Before a winner could be chosen, a freak wind blew over a candle in the royal art studio. The ensuing fire burned up every contest entry except Duncan’s. And so his sketch, “Spud Love,” was awarded the top prize by default. Now, Duncan realized that the other contestants might have been upset about the way things turned out, and he thought he could make them all feel better by including them in a new art project. Not a terrible idea. But Duncan—overly excitable and endlessly enthusiastic Duncan—had a knack for saying things in exactly the wrong way. He marched out of the award ceremony, holding his potato sketch over his head, and singing, “Huzzah! I am King Crayon! Follow me for more fantastic flights of artistic fancy!” Nobody followed him. Nobody invited him to any birthday parties after that, either. And with him being a prince and all, that’s pretty bad.

It certainly didn’t help matters that Duncan’s family was just as “different” as he was. Duncan’s parents, the king and queen of Sylvaria, were one of the least popular couples in their own kingdom. Their tendency to serve nothing but asparagus and kidney beans ensured that no one accepted their dinner invitations. Their court jester even quit, because the king always interrupted his acts—like spinning plates or juggling eggs—with shouts of “Ooh! Let me try that!” (and the king’s attempts inevitably resulted in a throne room littered with broken dishes and splattered yolks). Duncan’s sisters, Mavis and Marvella, spent most of their time painting each other’s toes—not
toenails
, but toes. No exaggeration, they were a weird family.

By his early teen years, Duncan resigned himself to loneliness. Friends were something other people had, not him. He led a solitary existence for a very long time. Until the day he found Snow White in the woods. There she was, a beautiful woman lying in a glass coffin, surrounded by weeping dwarfs. Duncan startled the mourners when he appeared.

“Yikes! It’s a dead girl,” he blurted. “Did she eat some of those polka-dot berries my dad always warns me about?”

At first the dwarfs cursed at him for interrupting their grieving, but just as Duncan was about to go, one of them, struck with an idea, called out to him, “Wait, you’re a human. We could use you.”

“That’s right, I
am
a human,” Duncan responded with a cheery smile. “You guys are so smart.” He was trying to compliment the dwarfs, in hopes of befriending them, but his innocent comment ended up sounding sarcastic.

“Gee, thanks, jerkface,” the dwarf sneered. The dwarf
was
trying to be sarcastic, but Duncan didn’t pick up on that.

“You’re welcome,” he said. “But my name is
Duncan
.”

“Quit yapping, human,” the dwarf barked. “Are you going to help us or not?”

“Help how?” Duncan asked. “Do you need help lifting the coffin? Because I’m not very strong. If you need some funeral music, however, I do have my flute with me.”

“She’s not dead, dunderhead,” the dwarf said. “She’s under a witch’s spell.”

“Then why’d you put her in a coffin?” Duncan asked. “That’s pretty final, don’t you think?”

One of the dwarfs raised his fist, ready to give Duncan a solid punch, but a few of the others held him back.

“The spell can be broken,” said one of the more civil dwarfs.

“Okay,” said Duncan. “That sounds promising. So, how do we do it?”

“Kiss her,” commanded a dwarf. “We’ve heard about these slumber spells. They can be broken by a kiss.”

“So why haven’t any of you kissed her?” Duncan asked.

The dwarfs wrinkled their noses in disgust, spat, and made “yick!” noises. “No way,” said one. “She’s like our sister. It would be gross.”

“Anyway, it wouldn’t work,” said the dwarf who appeared to be the leader. “It’s common knowledge—not that you have any—that an evil spell can only be broken by
true love’s
kiss.”

“Well,
I
can’t be her true love; she and I have never even met,” Duncan said.

“Technicalities,” the dwarf replied.

“Are you afraid? What’s the matter, never kissed a girl before?” another dwarf taunted.

“Ha-ha! Oh, no, no, no. That’s not it at all. How ridiculous,” Duncan fake-laughed. “It’s just that kissing a girl while she’s asleep feels, you know, a little wrong. But hey, it’s to save a life, right? And she
is
kind of cute.”

“Do it!” shouted several dwarfs together.

Duncan leaned over the apple-cheeked girl, put his lips to hers, and watched her eyes flutter open. “That was awesome,” he giggled.

Duncan lucked out once again: Snow White fell in love with him. As it turned out, the two had a lot in common. They were both short. They both liked bird-watching, lanyards, and lengthy flute solos. They got married right away.

Snow White was a princess, and she was marrying a prince, so you’d imagine the royal wedding was a huge, mega-popular event, right? But barely anybody showed up. On one side of the chapel, the only guests were Duncan’s parents, his sisters, and the few royal courtiers they forced to attend. On the other side were Snow White’s wrinkly old father and seven stone-faced dwarfs. That’s because Snow White was odd, too. And kind of a loner. Most of her life had been spent in the forest, talking to animals rather than people. She was no more popular than Duncan. Or at least that was the case until the minstrels made her a legend with the latest song from Wallace Fitzwallace, royal bard of Sylvaria.

Fig. 17 Snow WHITE

Shortly after the wedding, “The Tale of Snow White” started making the rounds, and people from all over Sylvaria stopped by the castle, hoping to see the famous princess and her Prince Charming. Of course, as soon as they realized that the Prince Charming in question was Duncan, they voiced their disappointment: “You? This must be a prank. Do you realize that the word ‘charming’ is supposed to mean that people
like
you?”