The Hero’s Guide to Storming the Castle

For Noelle

Title Page

Dedication

Map of the Thirteen Kingdoms

Prologue: Things You Don’t Know About Heroes

PART I: CRASHING THE WEDDING

1. A Hero Has Narrow Feet

2. A Hero Is a Carnivore

3. A Hero Doesn’t Remember What He Did That Was So Special

4. A Hero Doesn’t Appreciate Good Comedy

5. A Hero Cries at Weddings

6. A Hero Has a Fancy Closet

PART II: UNCOVERING THE PLOT

7. A Hero Has No Idea What’s Going On

8. The Villain Redecorates

9. A Hero Makes It Up as He Goes Along

10. A Hero Takes No for an Answer

11. A Hero Is Grossed Out by Sticky Floors

12. A Hero Has No Sense of Direction

13. The Villain Feeds the Fish

14. A Hero Starts New Traditions

15. A Hero Has a Ball

16. A Hero Forgets the Lyrics

17. The Villain Just Wants to Have Fun

18. A Hero Has Friends in High Places

PART III: STORMING THE CASTLE

19. The Villain Pulls the Strings

20. A Hero Acts Like a Clown

21. A Hero Gets Dumped

22. A Hero Hates Seafood

23. A Hero Knows How to Count

24. A Hero Smells a Rat

25. The Villain Gives Two Thumbs-Down

26. A Hero Tells It Like It Is

27. A Hero Invites the Villain to Drop In

28. The Villain Wins

29. A Hero Doesn’t Know Where to Go Next

29 1/2. The Villain Sheds a Tear

Acknowledgments

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Copyright

About the Publisher

A true hero always carries an eyebrow comb.

A true hero smells faintly of melon.

Are any of these things true? It depends on the hero you’re talking about, of course. But you can find all these definitions of “hero”—and many more—in the how-to-be-a-hero instruction manual being written by one Prince Duncan of the kingdom of Sylvaria. Duncan’s original title for his book had been The Hero’s Guide to Saving Your Kingdom, but he decided that was too specific. So he changed it to The Hero’s Guide to Everything in the Whole World. But that had kind of the opposite problem. He eventually settled on The Hero’s Guide to Being a Hero.

Now, you may be asking yourself, Who is this Prince Duncan, and what makes him such an expert on heroes? To which I will respond by saying that perhaps you may have skipped a book on your way to this one. You should probably check on that.

But even if you know who Prince Duncan is, you may still be asking yourself, What makes him such an expert on heroes? And that is a very good question. Duncan is a former Prince Charming, sure; but he is barely more than five feet tall, gets distracted by squirrels, and has a tendency to walk into walls. Does that say “hero” to you? Not that any of Duncan’s colleagues in the League of Princes would necessarily fit your definition of “hero” either: Prince Gustav has anger management issues; Prince Liam gets easily flustered by bratty princesses; Prince Frederic collects fancy spoons and considers “dirt” his archenemy. And yet the League of Princes did manage to save not one but five kingdoms from the diabolical plans of an evil witch. Does that make all of them heroes? Duncan certainly thinks so, as evidenced by the introduction to his book.

Fig. 1 DUNCAN, author

Hello! I’m Prince Duncan of Sylvaria. You may remember me from bard songs such as “The Tale of Snow White” or “Cinderella and the League of Princes.” Although that first one never mentions my name and the second is full of factual inaccuracies. For instance, I did not escape the Bandit King by donning a magical “ring of flight” as the song suggests; I simply fell off his roof.

But at least it gets one thing right: I’m a hero. But did you know there was a time when I didn’t even realize I was a hero? It’s true. In fact, I thought I was kind of a loser. That’s what everyone always told me, anyway. But then I joined the League of Princes, and along with my good friends Liam (the one from “Sleeping Beauty”), Frederic (the one from “Cinderella”), and Gustav (the one from “Rapunzel”), I outwitted the trolls, vanquished the giant, tamed the dragon, and destroyed the evil old witch, What’s-her-name, without even breaking a sweat. Because sweat is gross.

—from THE HERO’S GUIDE TO BEING A HERO by Prince Duncan of Sylvaria, aka Prince Charming (the one from “Snow White”)

Admittedly, Duncan’s description of events skims over quite a few details. But at least his account is more accurate than the version of the story told in the popular bard song about that episode with the witch (referenced by Duncan above) that initially earned the League its fame:

Listen, dear hearts, to a tale most alarming,

’Bout a gathering of princes, all formerly charming.

’Twas fair Cinderella who bade them unite

For help with a powerful witch she need fight.

The nameless old crone held us bards as her captives

And threatened to silence our melodious octaves.

A world without music! That was her aim.

But Cind’rella would stop her at her wicked game.

She knew for this mission the allies she must have:

Prince Liam, Prince Frederic, Prince Duncan and Gustav.

Not one was a coward who shudders or winces.

These were the men of the bold League of Princes.

With the maid as their leader, the heroes set off

Into the dark woods with a grin and a laugh.

—from “CINDERELLA AND THE LEAGUE OF PRINCES” by Pennyfeather the Mellifluous, royal bard of Harmonia

Hardly any of that is correct.

Not that it matters. While Pennyfeather did indeed turn the former Princes Charming into household-name heroes with that particular bit of verse, he very quickly went on to embarrass them all with his next story-song, aptly titled “The Embarrassment of the League of Princes.”

The celebration for these mighty warriors

Ended abruptly—and they couldn’t be sorrier.

For the Bandit King (who deserves forty whacks)

Had pilfered the League’s statue from behind their backs.

The Bandit had played with these princes like toys—

Appropriate, since he’s a ten-year-old boy.

—from “THE EMBARRASSMENT OF THE LEAGUE OF PRINCES” by Pennyfeather the Mellifluous

That one’s basically true. While the princes were busy touting their victory over the witch, Deeb Rauber, the young Bandit King, humiliated the team by brazenly stealing their victory monument.

The League of Princes dropped out of sight after that. They never officially disbanded, but they all thought it best to stay out of the public eye for a while. Gustav decided to tough it out in Sturmhagen, even while his brothers continued to get credit for his heroic deeds. Duncan nestled back into his woodland estate in Sylvaria to work on his book (a choice his wife, Snow White, was quite pleased with). And Liam, still on the run from his wedding-hungry fiancée, Briar Rose, returned to Harmonia, home of his friend Frederic—and Frederic’s fiancée, Ella (aka Cinderella).

But don’t worry. It wouldn’t be long before the princes reunited and put the fate of the entire world in peril. That’s just sort of what they do.

It all begins in Harmonia, where one prince’s moment of distraction starts a chain of events that will force the whole League to tackle a perilous quest—a quest during which both lives and pants will be lost. And if you’re really worried about whether our heroes will succeed on this mission, you may not want to look at the title of Chapter 28.

Fig. 2 STATUE, pilfered

The path to hero-hood will be fraught with danger, risk, and adversity. But it will all be worth it in the end when someone writes a factually incorrect song about you.

—THE HERO’S GUIDE TO BEING A HERO

“You can’t run forever,” his pursuer called out. “I can hear you panting already.”

“I’m aware of that,” Frederic wheezed. The pale, slender prince ducked into a corner, squatted behind a large ceramic flowerpot, and poked the tip of his sword out from behind a lush, green philodendron.

“Aha!” he shouted, peeking between the feathery leaves. “I win.”

Prince Liam stopped right before the big ornamental planter, lowered his sword, and shook his head. His long, burgundy cape fluttered down behind him. “Frederic,” he said. “You know that if this were a real fight, I could easily cut through that shrub and get to you. It’s a bush, not an iron shield.”

“I think the philodendron might technically be a tree, but I concede your point,” Frederic said, standing, hiking up the waistband of his gold-trimmed slacks, and straightening out the collar of his baby-blue velvet jacket (his “workout suit”). “However, this is not a real fight. And in this particular situation, the philodendron is a perfectly safe place to hide. So I’d say I outwitted you.”

“No, you didn’t,” Liam retorted. “You won because you changed the rules. You knew I wouldn’t attack the plant because I don’t want to hear your father lecturing me again about ‘defacing his royal foliage.’ But in these training exercises, I’m not me; I’m playing a bad guy. A bad guy who wants to hurt you. How will you learn to defend yourself if you don’t treat these bouts like real fights?”

“He’s right, Frederic,” said Ella, Prince Frederic’s fiancée and Prince Liam’s other sword-fighting pupil, who had raced down the hall to witness the climax of Liam and Frederic’s “duel.” She shook her head. “You weren’t even supposed to leave the training room.”

“But there’s nowhere to hide in the training room,” Frederic said.

“That’s the point,” Liam and Ella said in unison. They smiled at each other and laughed.

“Watch,” Ella said to Frederic. “This is what you can learn when you apply yourself.” She quickly drew the rapier that hung at her side and leapt at Liam.

“Whoa,” Liam sputtered. He was taken off guard but raised his sword in time to parry Ella’s stroke. “Nice speed,” he said as he slashed back at her.

“Thanks,” Ella replied, deftly blocking his strike. Swords clanged as she and Liam traded blows. But Liam was faster; he started to back Ella down the corridor.

“Watch that lamp!” Frederic yelled. “My great-grandmother made that! Well, bought it. Had a servant buy it, actually. . . .” His voice trailed off.

Ella was up against the wall. But as Liam swung his sword, she dove under it, sliding across the polished marble floor on her knees and hopping back onto her feet several yards away.

“Nice move,” Liam said with a raised eyebrow. “I don’t think I could get that much distance from a single slide.”

“Thank the pants,” Ella said, gesturing toward her billowy satin trousers. “I made them myself.” She cartwheeled toward Liam, her braid of brown hair whipping through the air. Liam leapt up and grabbed onto a chandelier to swing over Ella and avoid her assault.

“That’s real crystal!” Frederic yelled.

Liam dropped down behind Ella. “Boo,” he said.

Ella kicked her leg backward into his gut and sent him stumbling against the opposite wall.

“Careful with that tapestry,” Frederic called out. “It depicts my great-grandmother’s servant buying the lamp.”

“Sorry,” Ella said to Liam. “Did I hurt you?”

“Ha,” Liam said with a wincing smile. “Good reflexes, though. You’ve come a long way.”

Ella straightened the tapestry, plucked a piece of lint from it, and then charged at Liam with a quick barrage of blows—all of which he parried with ease. “A long way, perhaps” he said. “But not all the way.”

As Ella’s energy began to flag, Liam decided it was time for a little showboating. He performed an agile spinning maneuver, his cape flowing out behind him. Ella grabbed his cape as it fluttered past her and yanked him off balance. He fell to his knees, and Ella, grinning, touched the tip of her sword to his chest.

“Looks like I finally beat you,” she said.

“No fair,” Frederic interjected. “Didn’t we just establish that he’s not Prince Liam right now? He’s playing a bad guy. You can’t use his cape against him.”

“A villain can wear a cape,” Ella said.

“Of course,” Liam added. “Plenty of them do.”

“Who? Nobody we’ve ever faced,” Frederic said. “Are you also going to tell me that villains regularly compliment you the entire time they’re trying to kill you? And that they show off with fancy pirouettes in the middle of battle? You cannot honestly say you were taking that fight seriously just now, Liam. I don’t think you’re judging me and Ella equally.”

Ella walked over to Frederic and put her muscular arm around his bony shoulders. “Come on, Frederic,” she said playfully. “Don’t be jealous.”

“Jeal— um, what? Jealous?” Frederic stuttered. “Why would you say that? Jealous of whom?” For months now, Frederic had been trying to ignore the fact that Liam and Ella seemed like an ideal match for each other. They shared all the same interests (monsters, swords, monsters with swords). They shared all the same hobbies (rescuing people, climbing things, doing spontaneous push-ups). They had the same bold and daring spirit. But Ella was supposed to be Frederic’s fiancée. She was the Cinderella made beloved by the bards’ songs and stories, and Frederic was the Prince Charming who had swept her off her feet at that famous ball. But he was also the man whose life was so dull that Ella had left him in search of some real action.

It had been Frederic’s quest to reunite with Ella that brought the League of Princes together in the first place. He’d wanted to impress Ella with his heroics—and he succeeded. But on that adventure he also introduced her to his good friend Liam. And now both she and Liam lived in the Harmonian royal palace with him, neither of them sharing Frederic’s interests (artists, crumpets, artists who paint crumpets) or Frederic’s hobbies (fancy spoons, poetry, spontaneous embroidery). Still, Frederic wanted Ella to notice him. Of all the women he’d ever met—and there had been dozens lining up to dance with him at the royal ball every year—none but Ella had ever made a real impression. No woman he’d met anywhere had. Well, actually, there was one other . . . but Frederic didn’t know if he’d ever see her again.

“I’m just saying you don’t need to be jealous of my sword-fighting skills,” Ella explained. “I’ve taken to it quickly. But you’ll get better, too. I’m sure of it.”

“I’m not so sure,” Frederic said. “Look, I may never become a good duelist. But that’s okay. I’ve been telling you two for months: I’m not a sword guy. But that doesn’t mean I can’t be useful. Wit is my weapon. Words are my ammunition. You yourself helped me to realize that, Liam.”

“You’re absolutely right,” Liam said. “No one is better than you at talking his way out of a fight. But if an enemy doesn’t provide you with the opportunity for chitchat, you need to be able to defend yourself.”

“That’s when you let your steel do the talking,” Ella said through clenched teeth.

Both Frederic and Liam gaped at her.

“And to think I was worried when she went out into the woods alone,” Frederic said.

Liam gave Frederic a pat on the arm. “Come on, let’s give it another try,” he said. “Look, we’ve been living like hermits here for almost a year. I’m sure that ‘Embarrassment of the League’ song is a distant memory for most people.”

“Cook was singing it at breakfast this morning,” Frederic said.

“I said most people,” Liam said. “My point is that it’s about time we went out there and started redeeming ourselves. And if you’re going to come adventuring with me again, I need to know you can handle yourself in a fight. Swords up.”

Liam took a fencing stance and waited for Frederic to do the same.

“We should at least go back to the training room,” Frederic said. “I think this hallway has probably seen enough action for one day.” (This was, without doubt, the most excitement ever experienced in that particular corridor. Previously, the most suspenseful thing to have happened there was when two footmen hunted down a lost cuff link. It took them forty-seven seconds to find it.)

“You worry too much, Frederic,” Liam said.

Frederic sighed and lifted his blade. “All right, but I want to state for the record that—eek!”

Liam took several quick swipes at Frederic, and—much to everyone’s delight—Frederic managed to block them all. He had a giddy smile on his face as he whipped his sword back and forth to knock away each of his friend’s attacks. And then his father showed up.

“What on earth is going on here?” King Wilberforce barked as he strode down the hallway.

The sound of that deep baritone voice completely broke Frederic’s concentration. “Father,” he blurted, and turned his head at just the wrong moment. The tip of Liam’s blade sliced across Frederic’s cheek. Frederic yelped, dropped his weapon, and brought his hand up to cover the wound.

“I’m so sorry!” Liam gasped.

“Are you okay?” Ella called, running to her fiancé.

The king marched up to them in a fury, dozens of medals jingling on his chest with every stomping footstep. “What have you done to my son?”

“It was an accident,” Liam sputtered.

“It’s just a scratch, Father,” Frederic said. He checked his fingertips, relieved to see only the slightest dot of red. If there had been any more blood, he would likely have lost his composure—which he did not want to do in his father’s presence. “And frankly, it would never have happened if you hadn’t yelled and distracted me.”

“What did I do to deserve such disrespect?” King Wilberforce said, sounding appalled. “I, ruler of this realm, see my only son being assaulted by some hooligan and demand that the violence come to a stop. For this I deserve scorn?”

“Some hooligan, Father?” Frederic asked. “Liam’s been living with us for almost a year.”

“I know who he is,” the king said with disdain. “A supposed Prince Charming in exile from his own people, hated the world over because of the horrid manner in which he treated his Sleeping Beauty. A man to whom I have—against my best instincts—offered nothing but hospitality. And a hooligan who repays my kindness by fileting my son.”

“Your Highness,” Liam said. “I appreciate all the kindness you have offered me. And as I’ve tried to explain before, the rumors about me and Briar Rose are untrue. She spread those lies to get back at me because I refused to marry her. And surely you know I never meant to hurt Frederic. I was merely—”

“Oh, I know you probably didn’t intend to hurt him,” Wilberforce said. “But that’s the problem with you. You think Frederic can do things that he simply can’t. Putting my son in harm’s way appears to be a hobby for you. Are you going to deny that you almost got Frederic killed in that whole unfortunate witch fiasco?”

Liam said nothing. Nor did Frederic, who, if he were a turtle, would have slipped happily into his shell at that moment.

Fig. 3 King WILBERFORCE

The king looked down his nose at the three friends. “There will be no more swordplay within these walls,” he stated. “Or anywhere on palace grounds, for that matter.”

“But, Father,” Frederic began.

“Sir,” Liam stepped in. “Frederic is getting quite . . .” He couldn’t bring himself to say “good.” “Well, he’s improving. With more training, he could—”

“There will be no more training!” Wilberforce snapped. His perfectly groomed mustache quivered as he spoke, and a fleck of saliva hit a purple silk ribbon on his chest, leaving a tiny wet spot the likes of which no one had ever before seen on any king of Harmonia. “Push me too far, Erinthian, and I won’t hesitate to revoke the invitation I have so graciously extended to you. If I see you—any of the three of you—with a weapon in your hand, I will have you forcibly removed. Not just from my palace, but from the entire kingdom of Harmonia.” Wilberforce spun on his heels and marched down the hall. “Frederic, get to the nurse immediately,” he added as he left. “Make sure that horrible gash doesn’t scar.”

Frederic slumped down and sat on the edge of the philodendron pot. “I’m sorry,” he said.

“You have nothing to apologize for,” Ella said, sitting next to him. She put her arm around him and gave a tight squeeze. “You did nothing wrong. And, hey, any time you need me to jump in and help out against Old King Grumpy-pants, just say the word.”

“Thanks, Ella,” Frederic said, resting his head on her shoulder. “You’re very sweet.”

Liam looked away. Sensing his discomfort, Frederic stood up.

“I’m just embarrassed by the whole thing,” he said. “I’m going to bed early. You two have fun.” He hurried down the hall, leaving Ella and Liam alone.

Liam opened a pair of glass doors and strolled out onto an ornate marble balcony. “I shouldn’t be here,” he sighed, watching the quickly setting sun. “I’ve outstayed my welcome.”

“But you can’t go back to Erinthia,” Ella said, joining him outside. She looked at Liam in the warm glow of the lanterns that were being lit all along the palace grounds below. He was almost ridiculously perfect as the image of a hero: mocha-tan complexion, piercing green eyes, chiseled cheekbones, a fashionable cape and lustrous black hair, both billowing behind him in the late-spring breeze. He was standing, as he often did, with his hands on his hips and his head turned to one side, as if he were waiting for some invisible sculptor to carve a statue of him. It was the kind of thing Ella usually enjoyed teasing him about, but she was too concerned to joke around.