Christopher Healy - The Hero’s Guide to Saving Your Kingdom

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.

“I don’t even think I could walk in all that,” Frederic said.

“If that girl’s been out here by herself for a week already, we’d better move fast. Her life is probably being threatened as we speak.”

“Oh, my,” Frederic said. “Well, um, will you, um, will you—”

“Yes, I will save your woman,” Gustav declared. “Come! We’re off!”

And with that, Gustav galloped down the road toward the dark, dense forest.

“Please don’t go so fast!” Frederic called as he followed in a sloppy zigzag. “This saddle really chafes!”

Over the years, Frederic had met his fair share of other princes. None of them were anything like this prince of Sturmhagen. Gustav was so gruff. He had no patience, no manners, and ridiculously poor communication skills. Frederic could only presume the man’s flamenco dancing was just as awkward. He wasn’t at all surprised that Gustav hadn’t been able to hold on to his relationship with Rapunzel. But considering his own fiancée had run off, who was he to judge?

As the two princes rode across the countryside in search of Ella, Frederic began to grow frustrated with Gustav. For one thing, the big man always insisted they camp outside. Anytime Frederic suggested they look for an inn, Gustav would respond with, “Bah!” Or sometimes, “Pah!” Or even, “Pffft!”

Every night, Gustav would contentedly sprawl out on bare grass, and then mock Frederic for attempting to curl up on a trio of spread-out handkerchiefs.

“Cleanliness, Gustav,” Frederic would say defensively. “I’m doing what I can in the name of cleanliness.” Dirt, of course, ranked fourth on King Wilberforce’s list of “Enemies of the Nobleman,” just below nose hair, but above hiccups.

As the days rolled by, Frederic also began to doubt Gustav’s skills as a tracker. He watched Gustav sniff the air, cup his hand to his ear to “listen to the wind,” and occasionally dismount from his horse to nibble the edge of a leaf. He couldn’t imagine how any of that would help them locate Ella.

And in reality, none of it would. Gustav had no idea what he was doing.

Eventually, Gustav took them off-road, into the thickest stretches of Sturmhagen’s pine forests, where the trees were so tall they blocked almost all sunlight. Every flutter of a bird or skitter of a mouse made Frederic flinch and drop his reins. The path was nearly nonexistent, and he and Gustav had to squeeze their horses between trees to get by. More than once, Gustav pushed aside a large branch and let it snap back into Frederic’s face.

Hours later, they finally spotted shafts of daylight ahead. “Aha,” Gustav said. He stopped his horse and hopped down. “Now I know where we are.”

“Now?” Frederic asked. “You mean we’ve been lost all this time?”

“Look there,” Gustav said, pointing out into a small clearing beyond the trees, where they could see a solitary stone structure. “Zaubera’s tower.”

“Zaubera? Is that the witch?”

“No, she’s some other old lady who has a tower in the woods,” Gustav quipped sarcastically as he rolled his eyes.

“This is where you led me?” Frederic asked in disbelief. “To one of the most dangerous places in Sturmhagen? And the one place Ella is guaranteed not to be? This is the tower Rapunzel escaped from. Why in the world would Ella come here to look for her?”

Gustav ignored his protests. “Let’s check it out,” he said, and stepped out into the clearing.

Frederic grabbed the bigger man’s arm and yanked him back into the trees. “What if the witch is there?” Frederic asked.

“Witch, are you there?” Gustav called out. He paused for a second, listening for a response. “She’s not there. Let’s go.” He stepped into the clearing, and Frederic pulled him back once more.

“Wait,” Frederic said. “This witch—Zaubera—she’s pretty powerful, right?”

“She’s an old lady,” Gustav tossed off. “I’m not afraid of old ladies. Are you?”

“Ones who can pick me up and throw me, yes.”

“Look,” Gustav said. “Here’s all you need to know about Zaubera.”

Zaubera was possibly the most powerful witch in the world. She hadn’t always been, though. There was a time when she wasn’t even evil. Zaubera was just a farmer woman living by herself in the small town of Jorgsborg. She was a dabbler in the magical arts, just as every member of her family had been for generations. But she never used her talents to do anything more than grow the tastiest turnips the world had ever seen. Still, the magic freaked out her neighbors. Despite her many attempts to befriend her fellow Jorgsborgians, Zaubera was always ignored—or worse, mocked. One particular group of local children used to stand at the edge of her property and call her names like “worm lips” and “hedgehog hair.” Discouraged, Zaubera gave up and retreated to her cottage to live the life of a hermit.