Falling Apart to Have Time Part One
In the middle of the capital city, not far from the castle, there was an inn. It was small and shabby, but friendly. The innkeeper was known as a generous man, especially to soldiers, and the serving girl was known as a humorous type, and the cook was known for her fairy cakes. There was always ale for a decently low price, and no one could complain.
And of course, it was known as the place where Harvey Finevoice, former royal Captain of the Guard, could be relied on to sit and tell stories to anyone who wanted to ask.
Today, it was a pretty young woman who had just come to the capital, intending to start her apprenticeship to a seamstress the next day. But for now, she was sitting in the bar, talking to Harvey.
“They say you tell stories, Captain Finevoice,” she said.
“Yeah,” Harvey said. “I do.” He smiled at her. “Like to hear one, Miss Eliza?”
“Oh, yes, please,” she said eagerly. “I’d love to know anything about the city…anything at all.”
Harvey took a puff off his cigarette. “Well,” he said musingly. “I’ve got one you should hear, a tale of romance and betrayal and pain, that begins in this very inn.”
Eliza leaned over eagerly and Harvey grinned. “Sarah, another drink for me and the lady while I tell her about the soldier and the prince.”
*
For the fiftieth day in a row, Cinema Snob started the day by sitting straight up in bed and grabbing a knife.
It took him a good minute to even his breathing and assess the situation. He was not in the war. He was not on the battlefield. He was in bed, in the inn where he had been staying since being discharged and released from the army hospital, and there was absolutely nothing coming to get him. He was safe.
Snob got up, taking a moment for the flare of pain in his leg to go down, and went to the wash basin. As usual, he was covered in cold sweat as a result of his nightmare, but a quick wash was enough to remove it. He dried off, debated a shave and decided against it. The goatee on his chin was a good reminder that the war was over, that he was no longer a soldier.
He limped to the dresser and got dressed, slow and stiff, but that was starting to get better. He had just finished when, right on schedule, there was a knock on the door and the maid came in with the breakfast tray.
“Good morning, Sergeant,” she said, setting the tray on the table.
“Morning, Sarah,” Snob said in turn, limping to the table and sitting down. “Usual fare?”
“Mostly,” she said. “Though Jillian was feeling generous this morning and made a few of those fairy cakes you like.”
Snob grunted. The innkeepers were very kind to him, and he knew they were undercharging him for his room and board. He felt a twinge of shame at accepting their charity, but his soldier’s pension wasn’t enough for him to live on without it, so he didn’t complain.
“Captain Finevoice was asking after you when he came down,” Sarah added. “Said he wants to see you again, if you’re up to it.”
Snob chewed his breakfast slowly, taking a moment to answer. “I’ll join him for lunch,” he said. “But tell him that if he’s wanting to relive the good old days or talk about his nephews for four hours, he can just forget it.”
Sarah nodded. “Very good, sir,” she said, and left the room.
*
For the seven hundredth day in a row, Film Brain started the day by soaking his sore feet in a basin of warm water.
He had thought that after so long, he would build up some sort of toughness to this, some callouses, but apparently he hadn’t. He sucked in a breath when he shifted his foot wrong and hit a blister.
He glanced across the room at his shoes, worn through. He wished the King would invest in more durable dancing shoes, but after ruining thousands of pairs, the King refused to buy any shoes but the least expensive. Today, it would be the same story, a new pair of cheap shoes waiting for him at breakfast, with stern orders not to wear them out in one night again, an order that would be ignored.
Film Brain choked back a sob as he stood up. The water had gone cold and he couldn’t delay any longer. He toweled his feet off and moved toward the wardrobe to get dressed, biting back screams at every step.
He managed to dress himself and find a pair of slippers that wouldn’t hurt too much as he limped down the stairs. The other princes and princesses of the kingdom were already at breakfast, all being much hardier to this than him. Or at least better at hiding it.
The King frowned at the slippers, but didn’t comment, only gestured for Film Brain to sit. As soon as he did, the King spoke. “Will any of you tell me what happened to your shoes?”
There was silence from the table as all twelve of the princes and princesses shifted. Film Brain cast an appealing look to the oldest, Critic, who merely shook his head. “We’ve told you before, and we’ll tell you again. Our shoes and our feet are our business.”
The King glared, but no one else spoke. Film Brain looked down at his plate, fighting the tears in his eyes and wishing he could just scream out what was happening. But he couldn’t. The terms of the curse were very clear, and he could not say a word about it.
*
“Sergeant!” Captain Finevoice was disgustingly cheerful as usual. It was all Snob could do to plaster a smile on his face and go over.
“Captain Finevoice,” he said.
Captain Finevoice smiled at him. “Good to see you again,” he said. “Especially down here among the living.”
“Sorry,” Snob said. “Hard to go up and down stairs on this leg.” He took the seat across from Captain Finevoice and signaled Sarah to bring them lunch. “What did you want to see me about?”
Captain Finevoice chuckled. “Always straight to business with you,” he said. “Why do you think I wanted to see you about something and not just a friendly chat?”
Snob gave him a hard look. “You wouldn’t have asked me to come downstairs if you just wanted a friendly chat,” he said. “You know where my room is and that you can come up whenever you’d like.”
Captain Finevoice laughed some more. “All right, you got me,” he said before he sobered. “I wanted you down here where you could escape, because I don’t want to cause offense.”
“That’s not a promising start,” Snob commented.
“No,” Captain Finevoice agreed. “It’s not.” He paused for a moment as Sarah brought the tray with their food and ale over. As soon as she was gone, he continued. “I wanted to know what you’re planning to do with yourself.”
Snob sighed. That was the question, wasn’t it? Discharged and out of the army hospital for two months, and he was just hanging around an inn spending his pension. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “I don’t have any home to go back to, and I don’t have any trade beyond being a soldier. I know I have to do something, but…I don’t know what.”
Captain Finevoice nodded. “Well, as it happens, I was talking to a friend of mine at the castle,” he said. “And he told me something very interesting.”
“Oh?” Snob said, not liking where this conversation was going.
“Well, the first thing he mentioned was that the King just fired all the guards who are in charge of the princes and princesses, so they have a lot of openings right now,” Captain Finevoice said. “That might be a good job for you…not a lot of fighting, good pay, room and board included. Lot of standing, but I’m sure you could manage.”
Snob grunted. “Not too fond of royalty,” he said. “Tend to be a bit stuck-up.”
Captain Finevoice shrugged. “Still, it’s a job,” he said. “At least until you can find something else.”
“Thanks,” Snob said. “I’ll think about it.”
“Or else you could take the Challenge,” Captain Finevoice added.
“What challenge?” Snob asked. “Not that I’m interested, mind. You just obviously want to tell me.”
“The King issued it a year ago,” Captain Finevoice said. “Every morning for the last two years, the princes and princesses have come down to breakfast with their feet bleeding and their shoes ruined. They won’t tell him how it happens, but it seems like they’ve been dancing all night.”
“So?” Snob asked. “If they want to wear themselves out, what do I care?”
“Well, the King’s tired of buying new shoes every day,” Captain Finevoice continued. “So he issued the Challenge. Anyone who wants to can spend a week following the princes and princesses, and if they can figure out how they wear out their shoes, they can marry any of them that they want and get half of the kingdom.”
Snob took a sip of ale. “And you’re telling me this because?”
“Well, a bride of your own and half a kingdom sounds like a good deal to me,” Captain Finevoice said. “Or would you rather just stay in an inn forever?”
Snob ate his lunch, thinking. Finally, he looked up. “Where can I apply for a guard position?” he asked.
Captain Finevoice chuckled. “Not interested in half a kingdom?” he asked.
“Sounds like a pain in the ass,” Snob said. “But you’re right…I can’t stay here forever. And I’m a soldier. I’d like an honest soldier’s life with an honest soldier’s pay.”
Captain Finevoice nodded. “I’ll take you over,” he said. “And put in a good word with the general.”
*
The King sighed and rubbed his eyes. It was maddening, watching the princes and princesses come in with bleeding feet and ruined shoes and not get a word of explanation. But no matter what he tried, none of them ever gave any signs of wanting to tell him what was happening.
It wouldn’t have been so bad if it hadn’t gone on for so long. They were running the royal treasury into the ground, needing new shoes every day! The King was about ready to tell them he wouldn’t buy any more shoes for them and if they insisted on dancing all night, they could do it barefoot, but he couldn’t quite bring himself to do it. He had seen how much their feet bled already and he couldn’t stand the thought of them hurting more, even if they brought it on themselves.
The King sat at his desk for a long time, thinking about it, before there was a knock on the door to his office and the Lord Chamberlain came in.
“Your Majesty,” the Lord Chamberlain said with a bow and a smile.
“What is it, Ask That Guy?” the King asked. He really was not in the mood to deal with any other problems this morning.
Ask That Guy kept smiling. “Why, nothing in particular,” he said. “I just wanted to inquire as to the state of the princes and princesses. Another two dozen shoes ruined?”
“Yes,” the King sighed. “I don’t know how they do it. I lock their door, I bar the windows, I post guards, and yet they still come downstairs with ruined shoes! How do they get anywhere with enough space to dance?”
Ask That Guy hummed. “Perhaps they simply dance around their hall. It is large enough if they’re careful.”
“But every night?” the King asked. “Why would they? I can see that they’re hurting…why would they keep doing it? And how is it that none of the people who take the challenge can ever find out what they’re doing?”
“They’re a slippery bunch,” Ask That Guy said. “Perhaps they have some sorcery at work.”
The King snorted. “Can’t see any of them getting involved in magic,” he said. “They’re all too sensible for that.” He started looking over the papers on his desk. “Anything else?”
“We have gotten a few applicants to be new guards,” Ask That Guy said. “General Anesthetic is interviewing them.”
“Anything promising?” the King asked.
Ask That Guy shrugged. “Nothing of note, but that’s normal. Old Captain Finevoice brought in a few, but you know how he is with those royals. Wishes he was still in charge of them.”
The King chuckled. “Can’t blame him for that,” he said. “I’d hire him back if he was a bit younger. But whoever he recommends is good enough for me.”
Ask That Guy smiled, though he looked less happy. “I’ll let General Anesthetic know to keep that in mind,” he said, and was off.
Next
And of course, it was known as the place where Harvey Finevoice, former royal Captain of the Guard, could be relied on to sit and tell stories to anyone who wanted to ask.
Today, it was a pretty young woman who had just come to the capital, intending to start her apprenticeship to a seamstress the next day. But for now, she was sitting in the bar, talking to Harvey.
“They say you tell stories, Captain Finevoice,” she said.
“Yeah,” Harvey said. “I do.” He smiled at her. “Like to hear one, Miss Eliza?”
“Oh, yes, please,” she said eagerly. “I’d love to know anything about the city…anything at all.”
Harvey took a puff off his cigarette. “Well,” he said musingly. “I’ve got one you should hear, a tale of romance and betrayal and pain, that begins in this very inn.”
Eliza leaned over eagerly and Harvey grinned. “Sarah, another drink for me and the lady while I tell her about the soldier and the prince.”
*
For the fiftieth day in a row, Cinema Snob started the day by sitting straight up in bed and grabbing a knife.
It took him a good minute to even his breathing and assess the situation. He was not in the war. He was not on the battlefield. He was in bed, in the inn where he had been staying since being discharged and released from the army hospital, and there was absolutely nothing coming to get him. He was safe.
Snob got up, taking a moment for the flare of pain in his leg to go down, and went to the wash basin. As usual, he was covered in cold sweat as a result of his nightmare, but a quick wash was enough to remove it. He dried off, debated a shave and decided against it. The goatee on his chin was a good reminder that the war was over, that he was no longer a soldier.
He limped to the dresser and got dressed, slow and stiff, but that was starting to get better. He had just finished when, right on schedule, there was a knock on the door and the maid came in with the breakfast tray.
“Good morning, Sergeant,” she said, setting the tray on the table.
“Morning, Sarah,” Snob said in turn, limping to the table and sitting down. “Usual fare?”
“Mostly,” she said. “Though Jillian was feeling generous this morning and made a few of those fairy cakes you like.”
Snob grunted. The innkeepers were very kind to him, and he knew they were undercharging him for his room and board. He felt a twinge of shame at accepting their charity, but his soldier’s pension wasn’t enough for him to live on without it, so he didn’t complain.
“Captain Finevoice was asking after you when he came down,” Sarah added. “Said he wants to see you again, if you’re up to it.”
Snob chewed his breakfast slowly, taking a moment to answer. “I’ll join him for lunch,” he said. “But tell him that if he’s wanting to relive the good old days or talk about his nephews for four hours, he can just forget it.”
Sarah nodded. “Very good, sir,” she said, and left the room.
*
For the seven hundredth day in a row, Film Brain started the day by soaking his sore feet in a basin of warm water.
He had thought that after so long, he would build up some sort of toughness to this, some callouses, but apparently he hadn’t. He sucked in a breath when he shifted his foot wrong and hit a blister.
He glanced across the room at his shoes, worn through. He wished the King would invest in more durable dancing shoes, but after ruining thousands of pairs, the King refused to buy any shoes but the least expensive. Today, it would be the same story, a new pair of cheap shoes waiting for him at breakfast, with stern orders not to wear them out in one night again, an order that would be ignored.
Film Brain choked back a sob as he stood up. The water had gone cold and he couldn’t delay any longer. He toweled his feet off and moved toward the wardrobe to get dressed, biting back screams at every step.
He managed to dress himself and find a pair of slippers that wouldn’t hurt too much as he limped down the stairs. The other princes and princesses of the kingdom were already at breakfast, all being much hardier to this than him. Or at least better at hiding it.
The King frowned at the slippers, but didn’t comment, only gestured for Film Brain to sit. As soon as he did, the King spoke. “Will any of you tell me what happened to your shoes?”
There was silence from the table as all twelve of the princes and princesses shifted. Film Brain cast an appealing look to the oldest, Critic, who merely shook his head. “We’ve told you before, and we’ll tell you again. Our shoes and our feet are our business.”
The King glared, but no one else spoke. Film Brain looked down at his plate, fighting the tears in his eyes and wishing he could just scream out what was happening. But he couldn’t. The terms of the curse were very clear, and he could not say a word about it.
*
“Sergeant!” Captain Finevoice was disgustingly cheerful as usual. It was all Snob could do to plaster a smile on his face and go over.
“Captain Finevoice,” he said.
Captain Finevoice smiled at him. “Good to see you again,” he said. “Especially down here among the living.”
“Sorry,” Snob said. “Hard to go up and down stairs on this leg.” He took the seat across from Captain Finevoice and signaled Sarah to bring them lunch. “What did you want to see me about?”
Captain Finevoice chuckled. “Always straight to business with you,” he said. “Why do you think I wanted to see you about something and not just a friendly chat?”
Snob gave him a hard look. “You wouldn’t have asked me to come downstairs if you just wanted a friendly chat,” he said. “You know where my room is and that you can come up whenever you’d like.”
Captain Finevoice laughed some more. “All right, you got me,” he said before he sobered. “I wanted you down here where you could escape, because I don’t want to cause offense.”
“That’s not a promising start,” Snob commented.
“No,” Captain Finevoice agreed. “It’s not.” He paused for a moment as Sarah brought the tray with their food and ale over. As soon as she was gone, he continued. “I wanted to know what you’re planning to do with yourself.”
Snob sighed. That was the question, wasn’t it? Discharged and out of the army hospital for two months, and he was just hanging around an inn spending his pension. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “I don’t have any home to go back to, and I don’t have any trade beyond being a soldier. I know I have to do something, but…I don’t know what.”
Captain Finevoice nodded. “Well, as it happens, I was talking to a friend of mine at the castle,” he said. “And he told me something very interesting.”
“Oh?” Snob said, not liking where this conversation was going.
“Well, the first thing he mentioned was that the King just fired all the guards who are in charge of the princes and princesses, so they have a lot of openings right now,” Captain Finevoice said. “That might be a good job for you…not a lot of fighting, good pay, room and board included. Lot of standing, but I’m sure you could manage.”
Snob grunted. “Not too fond of royalty,” he said. “Tend to be a bit stuck-up.”
Captain Finevoice shrugged. “Still, it’s a job,” he said. “At least until you can find something else.”
“Thanks,” Snob said. “I’ll think about it.”
“Or else you could take the Challenge,” Captain Finevoice added.
“What challenge?” Snob asked. “Not that I’m interested, mind. You just obviously want to tell me.”
“The King issued it a year ago,” Captain Finevoice said. “Every morning for the last two years, the princes and princesses have come down to breakfast with their feet bleeding and their shoes ruined. They won’t tell him how it happens, but it seems like they’ve been dancing all night.”
“So?” Snob asked. “If they want to wear themselves out, what do I care?”
“Well, the King’s tired of buying new shoes every day,” Captain Finevoice continued. “So he issued the Challenge. Anyone who wants to can spend a week following the princes and princesses, and if they can figure out how they wear out their shoes, they can marry any of them that they want and get half of the kingdom.”
Snob took a sip of ale. “And you’re telling me this because?”
“Well, a bride of your own and half a kingdom sounds like a good deal to me,” Captain Finevoice said. “Or would you rather just stay in an inn forever?”
Snob ate his lunch, thinking. Finally, he looked up. “Where can I apply for a guard position?” he asked.
Captain Finevoice chuckled. “Not interested in half a kingdom?” he asked.
“Sounds like a pain in the ass,” Snob said. “But you’re right…I can’t stay here forever. And I’m a soldier. I’d like an honest soldier’s life with an honest soldier’s pay.”
Captain Finevoice nodded. “I’ll take you over,” he said. “And put in a good word with the general.”
*
The King sighed and rubbed his eyes. It was maddening, watching the princes and princesses come in with bleeding feet and ruined shoes and not get a word of explanation. But no matter what he tried, none of them ever gave any signs of wanting to tell him what was happening.
It wouldn’t have been so bad if it hadn’t gone on for so long. They were running the royal treasury into the ground, needing new shoes every day! The King was about ready to tell them he wouldn’t buy any more shoes for them and if they insisted on dancing all night, they could do it barefoot, but he couldn’t quite bring himself to do it. He had seen how much their feet bled already and he couldn’t stand the thought of them hurting more, even if they brought it on themselves.
The King sat at his desk for a long time, thinking about it, before there was a knock on the door to his office and the Lord Chamberlain came in.
“Your Majesty,” the Lord Chamberlain said with a bow and a smile.
“What is it, Ask That Guy?” the King asked. He really was not in the mood to deal with any other problems this morning.
Ask That Guy kept smiling. “Why, nothing in particular,” he said. “I just wanted to inquire as to the state of the princes and princesses. Another two dozen shoes ruined?”
“Yes,” the King sighed. “I don’t know how they do it. I lock their door, I bar the windows, I post guards, and yet they still come downstairs with ruined shoes! How do they get anywhere with enough space to dance?”
Ask That Guy hummed. “Perhaps they simply dance around their hall. It is large enough if they’re careful.”
“But every night?” the King asked. “Why would they? I can see that they’re hurting…why would they keep doing it? And how is it that none of the people who take the challenge can ever find out what they’re doing?”
“They’re a slippery bunch,” Ask That Guy said. “Perhaps they have some sorcery at work.”
The King snorted. “Can’t see any of them getting involved in magic,” he said. “They’re all too sensible for that.” He started looking over the papers on his desk. “Anything else?”
“We have gotten a few applicants to be new guards,” Ask That Guy said. “General Anesthetic is interviewing them.”
“Anything promising?” the King asked.
Ask That Guy shrugged. “Nothing of note, but that’s normal. Old Captain Finevoice brought in a few, but you know how he is with those royals. Wishes he was still in charge of them.”
The King chuckled. “Can’t blame him for that,” he said. “I’d hire him back if he was a bit younger. But whoever he recommends is good enough for me.”
Ask That Guy smiled, though he looked less happy. “I’ll let General Anesthetic know to keep that in mind,” he said, and was off.
Next