The Final Days of Springborough
Chapter 13: The Royal Brothers

It was with nine guards, knights dressed in full armor, that Thomas and Patrick, the royal princes of the Lishens’ of Springborough, ventured from their family’s grounds, and headed into the Forest of Fortis. The tenth member of the royal guards was the sword teacher himself, Corson, who insisted upon venturing with the young Princes if they were to wander from the safety of their castle. Although the Lishens’ had no enemies to speak of, one should always be cautious in the world. In every crowd, there are opportunists who would seek a chance for wealth and fame if it came easy to them. One of the easiest ways for both would be to abduct a royal child that found itself in the wrong place at the wrong time. Hence, the royal brothers went out in the world with armed guards, and hence why Thomas cursed his older sister for going out alone.

He could see Kyrstin now, rolling her eyes at him, telling him that she had taken his sword for her protection. As if she knew how to wield it. As if she would be able to fend off anybody with it. As Thomas scoffed at the imaginary conversation he held with her, Patrick grew increasingly nervous that something had befallen her. As Thomas rocked gently with the clopping of his horse, Patrick walked beside it, knowing his inner mass would break a horse’s back in half if he even attempted to get into its saddle.

“Why do you think Kyrstin had to see Grandma so bad?” Patrick asked, gently holding the reigns of his brother’s horse, making sure the horse didn’t suddenly buck his brother off, or turn its head suddenly into Patrick’s. The royal giant had the poise of a rock wall, if the horse rammed its head into him, the horse might just break its own skull.

“Who knows with our sister, Patrick. You know she likes to go see the former Queen to gossip about the going-on’s of the castle.”

The caravan rode in silence, listening to the clinking of the armored guards on their huffing horses behind them. Patrick scanned the forest for any sign of wild beast or daring criminal, seeing neither. He did take note of the changing of the winds, though. The air was getting crisper by the second. He couldn’t see much of the horizon through the thick trees, but he was sure that it was darkening. He was sure that storm was coming upon them. Patrick the Giant was absolutely sure he did not want to be in the forest, but he tried to be brave for his brother.

“How have you been, Patrick?” Thomas asked, looking down at the gentle giant, noticing his pupils darting to-and-fro with nervous energy.

“Fine. I’ve been fine. I can feel myself getting stronger. Wish I would grow, though. Feel like people look at me like just a strong child.”

“You are a strong child.”

“I know, but-“

“Patrick, you’re only nine. If you were a colossal, sky-high giant tomorrow, you’d still be only nine years of age. You’d still be a child. Enjoy it.”

“Kyrstin says royals can’t enjoy being children because we have to act like adults all the time…”

“I have never had a problem acting like a child,” Thomas said, smiling. For just the other week, he had cracked an egg under the mattress of one of the house maidens. Yesterday morning, when she was walking him to his studies, he could smell the rot coming off of her skin. When he asked where the stink came from, she said she didn’t know, but she had to plug her nose with a clothespin just to sleep in her room.

Pranks were child-like. Pranks helped keep Thomas feeling young. But, he’d get in a world of trouble if his parents found out he was doing them, so he kept his mouth shut, and didn’t even tell his brother.

“You live in a field. You don’t feel like a child?”

“I feel like a bum,” Patrick responded. “I’m always dirty. I always smell. My legs are always covered in bruises, cuts, and bug bites.”

Thomas laughed. “I hate to tell you, little brother, but you described being a child perfectly. You’re supposed to get bitten by bugs, get scrapes and bruises, get dirty, and smell until you have to take a bath.”

“Really?” Patrick asked, looking up at his brother, the ear-to-ear grin of Prince Patrick Lishens that was his trademark of winning over anyone that was cross with him. “But, you’re never smelly.”

“Ugh, count yourself lucky in that respect. In the castle, they make me bathe with flower petals.”

“Flower petals!” Patrick said, laughing at the thought of his bullish brother soaking in lillies.

“Whatever they replace. They smell, too, like flowers. They make me smell like a girl. Lavender are these purple ones that stick everywhere. Sometimes they throw in mint, making me feel like they are going to make me into a tea. A Prince Thomas tea bath. Sometimes it’s rose petals. That’s not so bad. Dandelion heads are the worst, because they bump up against your skin, and it feels like a large insect or something is bathing with you.”

Patrick, his chuckle becoming infectious with the rest of the troops, tried to contain his laughter but couldn’t. Soon, Thomas found himself laughing at his own “misfortune. “

“You do smell good,” Patrick managed to squeak out through chortles, continuing to laugh at his brother.

“It’s not funny. One time, I slipped in the bath, and my head went under water. I inhaled the water, I could feel Orange Blossoms get lodged in my throat. It was scary. I thought I was going to choke on flowers. I thought that was going to be my legacy- the Prince that choked on flowers. How awful would that have been?”

“Might have become your own funeral bouquet,” Corson interjected behind them, sending the other knights into fits of laughter.

“Yeah, yeah, have your joviality now, Guards,” Thomas said, ignoring their laughter for the sake of appearing a confident leader. “I hope none of you replace yourselves choking on the petals of flowers. You’re lucky I survived, or you’d have to explain to other kingdoms how you followed a man who had to fear weeds.”

This made everyone laugh, which as far as royal assignments go, was a sure sign the Lishens children were a different breed than royals before them, as they made sure life was filled with happiness and promise, instead of constant responsibilities and warnings of impending doom. A guardsman’s life was motionless most of the time, standing here or there, making sure to not move since the slightest deviance of attention could be the difference between protecting a member of the royal family, or letting an attacker get to them. Even during these excursions into the woods they were mainly to stay mute, watching the surroundings, giving the royal children strength in numbers, all the while appearing invisible to them otherwise. Thomas and Patrick talked with them all as if they were friends, and they reacted in kind as long as the King or Queen wasn’t around.

“So, how’d you survive? The suffocating orange blossoms?” Patrick asked.

“I leaned over the side of the bathtub, and dropped myself, my stomach, right on the side of it. This knocked the wind out of me. The wind, my lunch, and the orange blossoms. I could breathe again. Oh, I was shaky, but I could cough, and breathe, and-…”

“Did you cry?”

Yes, Thomas thought.

“No,” Thomas said, holding his head higher. “Princes don’t cry.”

“I cry sometimes,” Patrick confessed, holding the reigns, looking at the dirt marks, pretending like he could see footsteps that Kyrstin had left just a couple of hours earlier..

“Well, you’re more of a child. You’ll grow out of it,” Thomas replied.

“I’ll grow for sure.”

The wind was now rustling through the leaves and branches, making it almost impossible to hear anyone talking at a normal volume. The guards slightly shouted directions to one another, Thomas was practically shouting at his brother. Everyone had heard Patrick talk of the storm, and now they were realizing they were going to be stuck in it. None of the men feared the storm. They feared the colds they might get when once out of it.

“How much longer?” Patrick asked, his feet getting tired. He never did this much walking when he was in the field.

“Not too much farther,” Thomas replied.

A ride to their grandmother’s house was not a long journey. In fact, if Patrick could ride a horse, Thomas knew that they would have been there already. Thomas would have scooped up Kyrstin on the back of his horse, and he and Patrick would have bid their grandmother hello-and-adieu, kissed her on both cheeks, and been well on their way back to the castle by now. But, Patrick’s inner weight could not ride a horse, and not only did that terribly slow down their journey to the cottage, but it would also slow down their journey back.

He could already see Patrick getting tired, and he didn’t blame him. This was a long journey for a person of Patrick’s size, and Thomas had no idea just how it felt to be so much heavier than one’s frame suggested. He imagined it was like walking in a river, although to Patrick- that would feel normal, so he couldn’t ask. What one person feels might feel completely different to another.

Patrick was a trooper, though, and wouldn’t complain about being tired. He always looked up to his brother, and would carry on, even if his feet were blistered and bleeding. Once, Thomas had scheduled a day where he and Patrick would play in the field, simple games of tag, or stickball, or Old Man and the Creek, but Patrick woke up that morning feeling frightful. As not to discourage his brother, and always one for a fun day of field games, Patrick swallowed loads of water that day, and ventured out to play with Patrick, the older Prince being none the wiser. That night, when Queen Jenniffer came to check on Patrick, to bring him dinner, and make sure he was fed, clean, and ready for bed, she noticed he was especially flush. When she touched her hand to his forehead, she had commented she had never before felt hotter skin.

Patrick spent a week in bed with a fever.

The day with Thomas was one of his favorite memories.

It can’t be said often enough how the little giant loved his bigger siblings. He couldn’t wait to grow to protect them from anything in the world. And, since that was his plan, he allowed them to protect him whenever they could now. Thomas’ ways of protecting him was seemingly to get him tougher. They rough housed, Patrick usually winning, but Thomas usually instigating. This kept Patrick headstrong, not afraid of confrontation. Kyrstin would protect through the power of suggestion; she always told Patrick what he ought and ought not to do. She was more of the moral leader of the Lishens children.

Which was why it was so strange that she had run off on her own. It didn’t make sense to Patrick that she would run away just to talk to her grandmother. He felt there had to be a deeper reason than that. Unless she thought she could return before anybody would notice, but of course Thomas would notice his sword was missing. So, why have the kingdom go through all this trouble to send a search party out for her? Patrick wondered if there was ever a good reason for a bad deed.

Thomas simply sighed.

“I hope she’s sorry,” Thomas said, shifting his weight, and probably fearing the soreness of his thighs from not riding a saddle in so long.

That’s when they heard the bear roar. It seemed far enough away from them where they didn’t have to worry. But, it came in the direction they were heading; which was worrisome.

“Can you run, Patrick?” Thomas asked.

“Yes,” Patrick stammered out, hoping his answer was true.

“Company! With me!” Thomas hollered, at the same time snapping his reigns out of Patrick’s grasp, and kicking his heels into his horse.

Patrick ran as fast as he could, but within moments, all the horses carrying riders were disappearing in the distance, and Patrick’s legs were already so sore from the walking, that he could barely jog. He had to slow down his pace to barely a stroll.

Hoping his sister was okay, Patrick went forth down the path in the woods, alone.