Falling Apart to Have time Part Three
Snob took his post at midnight as ordered. The castle was quiet, no sounds but the muffled footsteps of the guards as they changed shifts.
Snob was joined by a young man, barely more than a teenager, who was even more cheerful than Captain Finevoice. “Dude!” the kid said, a huge smile on his face as Snob joined him. “Guess we’re patrol partners!” He held out his hand. “My name’s 90s Kid.”
“What the fuck kind of name is that?” Snob asked.
90s Kid shrugged. “It’s just what everyone calls me,” he said.
Snob grunted. He was in no mood to be chattered at all night, so he simply took his post by the door.
90s Kid didn’t seem to notice his dour mood, though, because he kept talking. “So, did you just get hired too? Cause I just got put on the guard today, and so far it seems super awesome, but I dunno if standing up all night will be radical after the first few days.”
Snob grunted again, before realizing that being rude to his shift partner probably wouldn’t be a good start to this job. “Yeah, just got hired,” he said. “Though I was in the army for a while beforehand.” He glanced at 90s Kid. “And what are you, twelve? Do you even know how to use that gun?”
“Chaw,” 90s Kid said. “I’ve been using a musket for years, dude. And I know I’m young, but General A said I was good enough for this!”
Snob rolled his eyes. “Right. Whatever.” He glanced at the door to the hall where the young royals were supposed to be sleeping. “Better be quiet. Wouldn’t want to wake the Highnesses.”
“Oh, yeah.” 90s Kid lapsed into silence, though he was very fidgety. Snob had to work very hard not to hit him with his musket.
The thing was, night duty was about as boring as army life got. Snob had learned that during the war. But really, it was better than a lot of other jobs in the army.
And it was definitely better than sleeping. Snob could stand at attention forever if it meant he wouldn’t have to go back to his nightmares.
90s Kid, on the other hand, was clearly not cut out for this sort of work. As the hours ticked by, Snob observed how nervous the boy was, how energized. This was the sort of boy who should be put on the field, close to the front to charge the enemy head-on, screaming for glory and using his energy in a berserker rage. He was not the sort to stand perfectly still in a hallway for ten hours doing nothing.
“So have you met any of the royals?” 90s Kid asked about three hours into the shift.
Snob took a moment to be thankful that the boy had managed to stay quiet for that long before he answered. “One of the princes…Film Brain. Think he’s the youngest.”
“I haven’t gotten to see any of them,” 90s Kid said. “General A didn’t think it was important for me to know what they look like.”
“Well, you’ll see them if they get up before we get off,” Snob said. “But they probably won’t.”
90s Kid looked fairly disappointed. “How’re we supposed to guard people we never see?” he asked.
“You don’t need to see them,” Snob said. “You just make sure nothing goes in that isn’t supposed to. And if something tries, you kill it. Pretty simple.”
90s Kid nodded, but now that Snob had responded, he seemed to take it as an invitation to start a whispered monologue. He didn’t seem to expect any sort of response, so Snob tuned him out and let his mind wander, staring off into the darkness.
The torches flickered, the flames dancing their strange ballet before Snob’s eyes. His hands tightened on his musket.
The campfire flickered, the men oddly quiet. They had stopped late and were all weary as they sat there, wrapping their blistered feet in bandages, those on duty cooking a simple supper. Snob sat at the edge of them, talking quietly to Captain Finevoice, making sure that they were ready for tomorrow.
The muffled footsteps from the other patrols passed by. The guards nodded to Snob and 90s Kid.
Snob’s ears pricked up as he caught the sound of a twig snapping. He was on his feet in a second, gun in hand, not caring if it was an enemy or a deer that jumped out.
A shot rang out in the dark, followed by a lot of shouts, and Snob was moving, leaping between the coming enemy and Captain Finevoice, firing his musket toward the sounds. The other men were up, Captain Finevoice was calling a charge. There were more shots, the blasts flaring up in the forest like lightning bugs, and then there was pain in his leg, shooting through his knee and up his thigh, but he couldn’t fall, couldn’t stop. He only had one more shot, but he took it.
“Dude!”
Snob started, shaking himself. He blinked and found himself back in the castle, in the open hall outside the corridor. 90s Kid was looking at him in wide-eyed confusion. “Dude, are you okay? You were like, zoning out into space, and you looked like you were about to shoot something!”
“Sorry,” Snob said reflexively. “Just…remembering the war and all.”
“You were in the war?”
“Told you I was in the fucking army,” Snob muttered.
“Dude, that’s awesome! Did you, like, kill a lot of people?”
Snob took a breath and counted to ten. He was not going to knock out this kid, no matter how annoying he was. “Let’s get one thing clear,” he growled. “We don’t talk about the war, you don’t ask about my record, and I don’t punch you in the fucking face. Got it?”
90s Kid stared. “Dude, sorry,” he muttered.
They fell silent again, but now that it had been mentioned, Snob almost wished that 90s Kid would start chattering again. At least that would give him something else to focus on.
The pain was more intense as he tried to join the charge, tried to run into battle, but he couldn’t, he couldn’t move, but he couldn’t fall, no, no, he wouldn’t fall! Not here, not in the dark away from home…
“Sergeant, get up! Get up, you gotta move!”
He was trying…he had to move, the captain was ordering him…
There was a figure over him, dark and faceless, raising a bayonet over him, ready to bring it down…
“Dude!”
Snob flinched. “Goddammit,” he muttered. His hands were shaking and he slowly put his gun down.
90s Kid was looking very alarmed now. “Does that, like, happen a lot?” he asked.
“More than I’d like,” Snob said. “It stays with you…you never forget about it.” He took several deep breaths and then resumed attention. “Go back to talking…anything you like, just not that.”
90s Kid looked a bit confused, but then resumed his monologue, babbling about a boy in his home village who he liked. Snob focused on the words, on the presence beside him, and was at least able to stand through the rest of the night.
As the sun began to break through the windows, Snob began to hear movement beyond the door. Soft footsteps, slow and hesitant, but a lot of them, as though all twelve of the young royals were all up and moving. He frowned, remembering that Captain Finevoice said that they tended to sleep late. After a few minutes, though, everything quieted.
At least for a moment before Snob picked up another sound, a distant, muffled sobbing, as though someone were crying in pain a few doors away.
He glanced at the door. He had been told to go in if he heard anything suspicious, but he couldn’t say if hearing sobbing was suspicious.
He focused, trying to hone in on the sound, though it was difficult with 90s Kid still chattering away. Snob held up his hand for quiet.
One person, male, young. Snob hesitated, then took out the key he had been given and unlocked the door. “Stand guard,” he told 90s Kid.
“Dude, what are you doing?”
“Investigating.” Snob hesitated a moment, then left his musket by the wall. He didn’t want to frighten any of the young royals, after all.
He opened the door and stepped into the corridor, listening intently. The sobbing was coming from the first door in the hall. Snob hesitated, then knocked on the door.
There was silence for a moment before Film Brain’s voice shakily called out, “Who’s there?”
“Sergeant Snob,” Snob called. “Are you all right, Your Highness?”
There was a pause. “Yes,” Film Brain called. “I just…stubbed my toe on the bedpost…getting up.”
No one cried that much from a stubbed toe. “Did you break it?” Snob reached for the door handle. “Should I fetch a doctor?”
“No!” Film Brain called. “No, I’ll be fine, I’m just…”
“With all due respect, Your Highness, I’m coming in.” Snob pushed the door open and stepped into the room, but stopped immediately upon seeing Film Brain.
The prince was sitting on the edge of the bed. There was a basin of water warming over the fire, but Snob’s attention was drawn to Film Brain’s feet. They were swollen and red, caked with blood and blisters, with corns and growths here and there. His toes were bent, the nails dark with bruises, and his ankles were swelling almost as badly. The prince’s face was streaked with tears, his entire body shaking from pain and exhaustion.
“Jesus Christ!” Snob said. He hurried to the bed and knelt down. His bad knee protested, but he ignored it. “The hell happened to you?”
Film Brain took several shuddering breaths. “I…it’s nothing,” he said.
“I’ve seen nicer looking feet on soldiers after a full day of marching,” Snob snapped, dropping into his old army sergeant voice, the type he only pulled out when someone needed to really listen to him. “This isn’t nothing.” He turned and fetched the basin of water, deeming it warm enough. He set it on the floor and lifted the prince’s feet into it.
Film Brain settled, breathing deeply as the warm water helped soothe the sores. Snob glanced at him to make sure he was would relax before he pulled himself up, groaning a bit at the flare of pain in his knee.
“Don’t you dare get up,” he snapped. “Is there a bell for a servant somewhere?”
“On the wall,” Film Brain muttered. “But I don’t want…”
Snob ignored him and went to press the bell. It took a few minutes before a maid came in, looking rather alarmed. Snob greeted her at the door and gave her a list of herbs to fetch in a quick snap. “And some bandages,” he added as the girl turned to go.
Film Brain stared at him, his mouth half-open. “I could have your head off for coming in here without permission,” he finally said.
Snob raised his eyebrow. “Then do it,” he said. “But I could see you were in pain yesterday, and I can see it clearer now. And maybe you don’t want to tell me what the fuck is going on, and that’s your fucking right, but my job is to protect you, and if that means I spend the day on the floor, that’s what I fucking do.”
Film Brain looked even more shocked, but he didn’t object further. Snob waited by the door until the maid returned with the requested items, which he took from her. He added the herbs to the warm water. “Stay there until the water goes cold and then let me know.”
Film Brain nodded. “Are you a doctor?” he asked.
“No,” Snob said. “But I was in the army for two years and I learned how to treat blisters.” He looked at Film Brain’s face, but the prince looked studiously down. “And I do know that no prince should ever have feet like this.” His face, on the other hand, was quite pleasant. Cute, small. Attractive, if Snob was interested.
Film Brain didn’t answer, only stared at the ground and wiping the tears off his face. Snob waited patiently, but no explanation was forthcoming. Finally, Film Brain moved, slowly lifting his feet out of the water. “It’s gone cold,” he muttered.
Snob nodded and knelt down again stiffly. He grabbed the bandages the maid had brought and took one of Film Brain’s feet to start wrapping. Film Brain watched him, not moving other than to whimper occasionally when Snob accidentally hit one of the more tender wounds.
It didn’t take too long for Snob to bandage Film Brain’s feet completely. He stood up, trying not to make it obvious that his leg was throbbing more than ever. “You stay the fuck off those,” he ordered. “I don’t want to see you walking again for the next fucking week.”
“I can’t just stay here,” Film Brain muttered. “I’m expected to be at meals, and at court…”
Snob glared, not caring how many rules he was breaking right now. “I think the King will understand once I tell him exactly how fucked up your feet are right now. And I don’t even want to think about what your knees look like.”
“No!” Film Brain looked up, his eyes suddenly wide with fear. “Please don’t tell him…you’ll get in trouble for coming in here.”
Snob snorted. “If I cared about that, I wouldn’t have called a maid in,” he said.
“Calluna’s not going to tell on you,” Film Brain said. “Please…I can handle this.”
“You’re going to lose your feet,” Snob said.
Film Brain’s jaw tightened. “As your prince, I am ordering you not to tell the King about this.”
They glared at each other for a minute before Snob finally snapped a salute. “Yes, Your Highness,” he said. He was a soldier. Rank mattered to him. “I’ll just be back in tomorrow to do this all again.”
“You don’t have to…”
Snob didn’t answer, simply turned and left the room, returning to his post. As he picked up his musket, 90s Kid looked at him curiously. “Dude, what was all that about?”
“His Highness required assistance,” Snob said. “And he will require it again tomorrow. I think you can handle guarding a fucking door on your own for half an hour.”
*
Snob returned to the barracks after his shift and did not leave again for the rest of the day. He did not sleep, memories of the war still overwhelming him, but they were now mixed with worries about the young prince. Captain Finevoice had said that the young royals had been ruining their shoes, but Snob hadn’t thought it would be this bad.
He did think about going to the King to tell him what the prince was apparently going through, but decided against it. He had been ordered not to, and Film Brain was right-admitting that he had burst into the room of a prince without permission would be enough to get his head taken off.
He was still musing over it when he took his post that night, tired and rather grumpier than usual. 90s Kid seemed to notice because he didn’t start babbling right away, for which Snob was grateful. At least he didn’t have to worry about being annoyed tonight.
The shift passed in silence and boredom, with Snob focusing on his breathing rather than the pain in his leg or the memories in his mind. In, out…in, out…minute after minute, breath after breath, heartbeats filling his ears. Not the war. Not the pain. Not the blood. Just breath, just life.
Hours later, the sun rose. Snob turned to the door and unlocked it, leaving 90s Kid without a word and heading toward Film Brain’s room. He listened carefully and once again caught the sounds of sharp breaths and quick sobs. Snob knocked on the door. “Your Highness?”
There was a moment of silence before Film Brain called, “Come in.”
Snob opened the door and headed inside. He didn’t say a word as he grabbed the basin and added the herbs he’d picked up earlier to it. Film Brain didn’t speak either as Snob took the basin over and helped the prince put his ruined feet in the water.
They sat in silence for a few moments before Film Brain spoke. “Captain Finevoice used to do this for us,” he said.
Snob looked up. He had remained kneeling on the floor since getting up would only make it more difficult to get back down later. “What?”
“Before the war,” Film Brain said. “He’d come in and do this every morning…not just for me, but for the others as well…they hide it better, but they hurt just as much. And Captain Finevoice always took care of us…though I think you bandage a bit better than he does.”
“Did it help, yesterday?” Snob asked.
“Yes,” Film Brain said. “At least…enough.” He seemed to hesitate. “I know it’s a lot to ask, and you’re not really supposed to leave your post to begin with, but…I don’t want the rest of them hurting and…”
Snob sighed. He should have suspected that once he started helping one of the young royals, he’d be expected to look after all of them. “Not really what I signed up for,” he said.
“I know,” Film Brain said. “Sorry, just…”
“But I’ll see what I can do,” Snob added. The boy’s eyes were too big to say no to. “If they consent to letting me.”
“I’m sure they will,” Film Brain said. “I’ll talk to them…just…help us. Please.”
Snob nodded and reached for the bandages. “I’ll do what I can,” he promised. “But you’d better not get me fired!”
*
Once his shift was over, Snob retreated to the library, hoping that there would be some escape from the insanity that seemed to hang around the corridor he guarded. Unfortunately, it was not to be. He had just found a quiet, out-of-the-way corner where he could read without being bothered when a shadow fell over him.
Snob looked up to see a young man in fine clothing. “Can I help you?” he asked coolly.
The young man blinked, as though he was unused to being spoken to in such a way. “Um…I’m Critic,” he said. “The eldest prince?”
Snob blinked. “Oh.” He got up slowly and bowed. “Sorry…no one really told me.”
“It’s all right,” Critic said. “You’re Sergeant Snob, right?”
“Yes,” Snob said. “How can I help you, Your Highness?”
Critic looked a bit embarrassed. “Well…Film Brain was telling me about what you did for him,” he said. “And…and that you might be willing to help the rest of us.”
“I see.” Snob reminded himself that being rude to a prince was enough to get him banished. “And you’re here to ask me personally?”
“Make an offer, really,” Critic said. “I know it’s not really in your job description to spend two hours on a floor every morning, but you are better at dealing with this…issue than we are, so…so I was going to offer you double salary if you come in every morning and…and don’t tell anyone else.”
Snob considered it for a moment. On the one hand, he did not relish the idea of taking care of twelve pairs of feet every morning, and just the idea of kneeling on floors for two hours made his knee hurt more than ever.
But on the other hand, double salary was not something he could really say no to, especially if he wanted to get more information out of Captain Finevoice.
“All right,” Snob said. “I’ll start tomorrow.”
Critic smiled at him. “Thank you,” he said. “Would you like to meet the rest of the princes and princesses now?”
Snob shrugged. “Guess I’d better,” he said. “Lead the way, Your Highness.”
Critic turned and Snob followed him out of the library, noticing how much the prince was limping. They headed back to the royal wing of the palace, to the corridor that Snob was sick of looking at already. Critic headed down the hall to the very last bedroom, which also seemed to be the largest.
Inside, the rest of the princes and princesses had gathered, sitting on the bed and what chairs there were, though they all rose when Critic and Snob entered. They bowed and curtsied politely, all grimacing. Critic waved them all down. “Everyone, this is Sergeant Snob. Harvey sent him in to help us.”
The young royals all smiled at him. Snob blinked. “Actually, he just recommended me for the guard,” he muttered.
“Trust me,” Film Brain said. “He sent you for a reason.”
A few of the princesses giggled and glanced at Film Brain, who seemed to ignore them. Critic rolled his eyes. “Sergeant, the princes and princesses: Chick, Spoony, Marzgurl, Elisa, Roses, Grace, Tamara, Lupa, Oancitizen, Vira, and you know Film Brain.” Each of the young royals nodded as they were introduced and Snob bowed to each, even though he didn’t really care what their names were.
“Captain Finevoice had a roster when he was here,” Chick said. “I’ve still got it, if you want to stick with it.”
“A roster?” Snob repeated.
“So we don’t fight over who goes first,” Chick explained. “Rotates every day.”
“Right,” Snob said. “Sure, I’ll take that.” He glanced at Critic. “I can get the medicine for tomorrow, but after that someone will have to pay for it if you want this to stay a secret.”
“We know,” Spoony said. “I’ll send a message to Captain Finevoice, he should be able to hook you up when you see him.”
“I’ll see him tomorrow,” Snob promised. “And you said you’d pay me for this?”
“What do you make per week?” Marzgurl asked.
“Twenty gold,” Snob said.
The young royals glanced at each other, but then Marzgurl nodded. “I’ll give you your first fee tomorrow morning,” she said. “But you have to promise two things: you tell no one you’re doing this, and you don’t ask us any questions.”
Snob shrugged. “Sure,” he said. “If that’s what you really want.” He bowed once more. “But I really should be going back to the barracks now.”
The young royals all nodded and Snob left, his mind reeling.
*
He stood shift that night with a different guard, one who didn’t even introduce himself, let alone chatter as much as 90s Kid. Snob was grateful for that-he had enough to think about.
As ordered, at sunrise Snob excused himself and slipped into the corridor. The other guard frowned at him, but didn’t object. He headed down the hall to Critic’s room and knocked on the door.
Critic called him in immediately. Snob entered the room to see the prince collapsed on the bed, fully dressed except for his shoes, which had been thrown into a corner. Predictably, they were ruined. Snob shook his head and headed over to fetch the water basin.
“Soak your feet for thirty minutes,” he ordered. “I’m going to distribute medicine to the others and I’ll be back to bandage them.”
“Thanks,” Critic said. “Marzgurl has your money…fourth door, when you get there.”
“And that roster?”
“Chick, across the hall...she’s second on it anyway.”
Snob nodded and headed out, stopping at every door and giving each of the young royals the same instructions. Every one of them was exactly the same, party clothes and ruined shoes, looking wrecked and exhausted. None even spoke to him except Spoony, who told him that a message had been sent to Captain Finevoice to meet Snob later that day, and Marzgurl, who gave Snob his pay.
Not that he minded. He simply went about his duty, returning to Critic’s room after he had taken the others their medicine and bandaging the prince’s feet before heading back down the hall to do the same for the others. They all thanked him politely before each lay down to sleep.
Film Brain was last on the roster. He watched Snob closely as he worked.
“You’re hurting as well,” Film Brain said as Snob pulled himself up with a slight groan.
“War wound,” Snob said. “Bullet in my knee.”
Film Brain looked concerned. “Should you be kneeling on floors like this?” he asked.
“Should you be walking?” Snob shot back.
Film Brain looked down and Snob softened. “Look,” Snob said. “We made an agreement before…so let’s add to it. I don’t ask you questions, you don’t ask me any. Deal?”
Film Brain nodded. “I’m sorry,” he said. “Is there a more comfortable way for you to do this?”
Snob shrugged. “Probably, but it would involve sitting on your bed, and that would probably be far outside the realm of propriety, Your Highness.” He turned to the door, thinking that just a few years ago, he would have happily jumped into the prince’s bed, and not just for the novelty of fucking royalty. Damn, the boy had pretty eyes. “Now get to sleep and I’ll see you again tomorrow.”
Previous | Next
Snob was joined by a young man, barely more than a teenager, who was even more cheerful than Captain Finevoice. “Dude!” the kid said, a huge smile on his face as Snob joined him. “Guess we’re patrol partners!” He held out his hand. “My name’s 90s Kid.”
“What the fuck kind of name is that?” Snob asked.
90s Kid shrugged. “It’s just what everyone calls me,” he said.
Snob grunted. He was in no mood to be chattered at all night, so he simply took his post by the door.
90s Kid didn’t seem to notice his dour mood, though, because he kept talking. “So, did you just get hired too? Cause I just got put on the guard today, and so far it seems super awesome, but I dunno if standing up all night will be radical after the first few days.”
Snob grunted again, before realizing that being rude to his shift partner probably wouldn’t be a good start to this job. “Yeah, just got hired,” he said. “Though I was in the army for a while beforehand.” He glanced at 90s Kid. “And what are you, twelve? Do you even know how to use that gun?”
“Chaw,” 90s Kid said. “I’ve been using a musket for years, dude. And I know I’m young, but General A said I was good enough for this!”
Snob rolled his eyes. “Right. Whatever.” He glanced at the door to the hall where the young royals were supposed to be sleeping. “Better be quiet. Wouldn’t want to wake the Highnesses.”
“Oh, yeah.” 90s Kid lapsed into silence, though he was very fidgety. Snob had to work very hard not to hit him with his musket.
The thing was, night duty was about as boring as army life got. Snob had learned that during the war. But really, it was better than a lot of other jobs in the army.
And it was definitely better than sleeping. Snob could stand at attention forever if it meant he wouldn’t have to go back to his nightmares.
90s Kid, on the other hand, was clearly not cut out for this sort of work. As the hours ticked by, Snob observed how nervous the boy was, how energized. This was the sort of boy who should be put on the field, close to the front to charge the enemy head-on, screaming for glory and using his energy in a berserker rage. He was not the sort to stand perfectly still in a hallway for ten hours doing nothing.
“So have you met any of the royals?” 90s Kid asked about three hours into the shift.
Snob took a moment to be thankful that the boy had managed to stay quiet for that long before he answered. “One of the princes…Film Brain. Think he’s the youngest.”
“I haven’t gotten to see any of them,” 90s Kid said. “General A didn’t think it was important for me to know what they look like.”
“Well, you’ll see them if they get up before we get off,” Snob said. “But they probably won’t.”
90s Kid looked fairly disappointed. “How’re we supposed to guard people we never see?” he asked.
“You don’t need to see them,” Snob said. “You just make sure nothing goes in that isn’t supposed to. And if something tries, you kill it. Pretty simple.”
90s Kid nodded, but now that Snob had responded, he seemed to take it as an invitation to start a whispered monologue. He didn’t seem to expect any sort of response, so Snob tuned him out and let his mind wander, staring off into the darkness.
The torches flickered, the flames dancing their strange ballet before Snob’s eyes. His hands tightened on his musket.
The campfire flickered, the men oddly quiet. They had stopped late and were all weary as they sat there, wrapping their blistered feet in bandages, those on duty cooking a simple supper. Snob sat at the edge of them, talking quietly to Captain Finevoice, making sure that they were ready for tomorrow.
The muffled footsteps from the other patrols passed by. The guards nodded to Snob and 90s Kid.
Snob’s ears pricked up as he caught the sound of a twig snapping. He was on his feet in a second, gun in hand, not caring if it was an enemy or a deer that jumped out.
A shot rang out in the dark, followed by a lot of shouts, and Snob was moving, leaping between the coming enemy and Captain Finevoice, firing his musket toward the sounds. The other men were up, Captain Finevoice was calling a charge. There were more shots, the blasts flaring up in the forest like lightning bugs, and then there was pain in his leg, shooting through his knee and up his thigh, but he couldn’t fall, couldn’t stop. He only had one more shot, but he took it.
“Dude!”
Snob started, shaking himself. He blinked and found himself back in the castle, in the open hall outside the corridor. 90s Kid was looking at him in wide-eyed confusion. “Dude, are you okay? You were like, zoning out into space, and you looked like you were about to shoot something!”
“Sorry,” Snob said reflexively. “Just…remembering the war and all.”
“You were in the war?”
“Told you I was in the fucking army,” Snob muttered.
“Dude, that’s awesome! Did you, like, kill a lot of people?”
Snob took a breath and counted to ten. He was not going to knock out this kid, no matter how annoying he was. “Let’s get one thing clear,” he growled. “We don’t talk about the war, you don’t ask about my record, and I don’t punch you in the fucking face. Got it?”
90s Kid stared. “Dude, sorry,” he muttered.
They fell silent again, but now that it had been mentioned, Snob almost wished that 90s Kid would start chattering again. At least that would give him something else to focus on.
The pain was more intense as he tried to join the charge, tried to run into battle, but he couldn’t, he couldn’t move, but he couldn’t fall, no, no, he wouldn’t fall! Not here, not in the dark away from home…
“Sergeant, get up! Get up, you gotta move!”
He was trying…he had to move, the captain was ordering him…
There was a figure over him, dark and faceless, raising a bayonet over him, ready to bring it down…
“Dude!”
Snob flinched. “Goddammit,” he muttered. His hands were shaking and he slowly put his gun down.
90s Kid was looking very alarmed now. “Does that, like, happen a lot?” he asked.
“More than I’d like,” Snob said. “It stays with you…you never forget about it.” He took several deep breaths and then resumed attention. “Go back to talking…anything you like, just not that.”
90s Kid looked a bit confused, but then resumed his monologue, babbling about a boy in his home village who he liked. Snob focused on the words, on the presence beside him, and was at least able to stand through the rest of the night.
As the sun began to break through the windows, Snob began to hear movement beyond the door. Soft footsteps, slow and hesitant, but a lot of them, as though all twelve of the young royals were all up and moving. He frowned, remembering that Captain Finevoice said that they tended to sleep late. After a few minutes, though, everything quieted.
At least for a moment before Snob picked up another sound, a distant, muffled sobbing, as though someone were crying in pain a few doors away.
He glanced at the door. He had been told to go in if he heard anything suspicious, but he couldn’t say if hearing sobbing was suspicious.
He focused, trying to hone in on the sound, though it was difficult with 90s Kid still chattering away. Snob held up his hand for quiet.
One person, male, young. Snob hesitated, then took out the key he had been given and unlocked the door. “Stand guard,” he told 90s Kid.
“Dude, what are you doing?”
“Investigating.” Snob hesitated a moment, then left his musket by the wall. He didn’t want to frighten any of the young royals, after all.
He opened the door and stepped into the corridor, listening intently. The sobbing was coming from the first door in the hall. Snob hesitated, then knocked on the door.
There was silence for a moment before Film Brain’s voice shakily called out, “Who’s there?”
“Sergeant Snob,” Snob called. “Are you all right, Your Highness?”
There was a pause. “Yes,” Film Brain called. “I just…stubbed my toe on the bedpost…getting up.”
No one cried that much from a stubbed toe. “Did you break it?” Snob reached for the door handle. “Should I fetch a doctor?”
“No!” Film Brain called. “No, I’ll be fine, I’m just…”
“With all due respect, Your Highness, I’m coming in.” Snob pushed the door open and stepped into the room, but stopped immediately upon seeing Film Brain.
The prince was sitting on the edge of the bed. There was a basin of water warming over the fire, but Snob’s attention was drawn to Film Brain’s feet. They were swollen and red, caked with blood and blisters, with corns and growths here and there. His toes were bent, the nails dark with bruises, and his ankles were swelling almost as badly. The prince’s face was streaked with tears, his entire body shaking from pain and exhaustion.
“Jesus Christ!” Snob said. He hurried to the bed and knelt down. His bad knee protested, but he ignored it. “The hell happened to you?”
Film Brain took several shuddering breaths. “I…it’s nothing,” he said.
“I’ve seen nicer looking feet on soldiers after a full day of marching,” Snob snapped, dropping into his old army sergeant voice, the type he only pulled out when someone needed to really listen to him. “This isn’t nothing.” He turned and fetched the basin of water, deeming it warm enough. He set it on the floor and lifted the prince’s feet into it.
Film Brain settled, breathing deeply as the warm water helped soothe the sores. Snob glanced at him to make sure he was would relax before he pulled himself up, groaning a bit at the flare of pain in his knee.
“Don’t you dare get up,” he snapped. “Is there a bell for a servant somewhere?”
“On the wall,” Film Brain muttered. “But I don’t want…”
Snob ignored him and went to press the bell. It took a few minutes before a maid came in, looking rather alarmed. Snob greeted her at the door and gave her a list of herbs to fetch in a quick snap. “And some bandages,” he added as the girl turned to go.
Film Brain stared at him, his mouth half-open. “I could have your head off for coming in here without permission,” he finally said.
Snob raised his eyebrow. “Then do it,” he said. “But I could see you were in pain yesterday, and I can see it clearer now. And maybe you don’t want to tell me what the fuck is going on, and that’s your fucking right, but my job is to protect you, and if that means I spend the day on the floor, that’s what I fucking do.”
Film Brain looked even more shocked, but he didn’t object further. Snob waited by the door until the maid returned with the requested items, which he took from her. He added the herbs to the warm water. “Stay there until the water goes cold and then let me know.”
Film Brain nodded. “Are you a doctor?” he asked.
“No,” Snob said. “But I was in the army for two years and I learned how to treat blisters.” He looked at Film Brain’s face, but the prince looked studiously down. “And I do know that no prince should ever have feet like this.” His face, on the other hand, was quite pleasant. Cute, small. Attractive, if Snob was interested.
Film Brain didn’t answer, only stared at the ground and wiping the tears off his face. Snob waited patiently, but no explanation was forthcoming. Finally, Film Brain moved, slowly lifting his feet out of the water. “It’s gone cold,” he muttered.
Snob nodded and knelt down again stiffly. He grabbed the bandages the maid had brought and took one of Film Brain’s feet to start wrapping. Film Brain watched him, not moving other than to whimper occasionally when Snob accidentally hit one of the more tender wounds.
It didn’t take too long for Snob to bandage Film Brain’s feet completely. He stood up, trying not to make it obvious that his leg was throbbing more than ever. “You stay the fuck off those,” he ordered. “I don’t want to see you walking again for the next fucking week.”
“I can’t just stay here,” Film Brain muttered. “I’m expected to be at meals, and at court…”
Snob glared, not caring how many rules he was breaking right now. “I think the King will understand once I tell him exactly how fucked up your feet are right now. And I don’t even want to think about what your knees look like.”
“No!” Film Brain looked up, his eyes suddenly wide with fear. “Please don’t tell him…you’ll get in trouble for coming in here.”
Snob snorted. “If I cared about that, I wouldn’t have called a maid in,” he said.
“Calluna’s not going to tell on you,” Film Brain said. “Please…I can handle this.”
“You’re going to lose your feet,” Snob said.
Film Brain’s jaw tightened. “As your prince, I am ordering you not to tell the King about this.”
They glared at each other for a minute before Snob finally snapped a salute. “Yes, Your Highness,” he said. He was a soldier. Rank mattered to him. “I’ll just be back in tomorrow to do this all again.”
“You don’t have to…”
Snob didn’t answer, simply turned and left the room, returning to his post. As he picked up his musket, 90s Kid looked at him curiously. “Dude, what was all that about?”
“His Highness required assistance,” Snob said. “And he will require it again tomorrow. I think you can handle guarding a fucking door on your own for half an hour.”
*
Snob returned to the barracks after his shift and did not leave again for the rest of the day. He did not sleep, memories of the war still overwhelming him, but they were now mixed with worries about the young prince. Captain Finevoice had said that the young royals had been ruining their shoes, but Snob hadn’t thought it would be this bad.
He did think about going to the King to tell him what the prince was apparently going through, but decided against it. He had been ordered not to, and Film Brain was right-admitting that he had burst into the room of a prince without permission would be enough to get his head taken off.
He was still musing over it when he took his post that night, tired and rather grumpier than usual. 90s Kid seemed to notice because he didn’t start babbling right away, for which Snob was grateful. At least he didn’t have to worry about being annoyed tonight.
The shift passed in silence and boredom, with Snob focusing on his breathing rather than the pain in his leg or the memories in his mind. In, out…in, out…minute after minute, breath after breath, heartbeats filling his ears. Not the war. Not the pain. Not the blood. Just breath, just life.
Hours later, the sun rose. Snob turned to the door and unlocked it, leaving 90s Kid without a word and heading toward Film Brain’s room. He listened carefully and once again caught the sounds of sharp breaths and quick sobs. Snob knocked on the door. “Your Highness?”
There was a moment of silence before Film Brain called, “Come in.”
Snob opened the door and headed inside. He didn’t say a word as he grabbed the basin and added the herbs he’d picked up earlier to it. Film Brain didn’t speak either as Snob took the basin over and helped the prince put his ruined feet in the water.
They sat in silence for a few moments before Film Brain spoke. “Captain Finevoice used to do this for us,” he said.
Snob looked up. He had remained kneeling on the floor since getting up would only make it more difficult to get back down later. “What?”
“Before the war,” Film Brain said. “He’d come in and do this every morning…not just for me, but for the others as well…they hide it better, but they hurt just as much. And Captain Finevoice always took care of us…though I think you bandage a bit better than he does.”
“Did it help, yesterday?” Snob asked.
“Yes,” Film Brain said. “At least…enough.” He seemed to hesitate. “I know it’s a lot to ask, and you’re not really supposed to leave your post to begin with, but…I don’t want the rest of them hurting and…”
Snob sighed. He should have suspected that once he started helping one of the young royals, he’d be expected to look after all of them. “Not really what I signed up for,” he said.
“I know,” Film Brain said. “Sorry, just…”
“But I’ll see what I can do,” Snob added. The boy’s eyes were too big to say no to. “If they consent to letting me.”
“I’m sure they will,” Film Brain said. “I’ll talk to them…just…help us. Please.”
Snob nodded and reached for the bandages. “I’ll do what I can,” he promised. “But you’d better not get me fired!”
*
Once his shift was over, Snob retreated to the library, hoping that there would be some escape from the insanity that seemed to hang around the corridor he guarded. Unfortunately, it was not to be. He had just found a quiet, out-of-the-way corner where he could read without being bothered when a shadow fell over him.
Snob looked up to see a young man in fine clothing. “Can I help you?” he asked coolly.
The young man blinked, as though he was unused to being spoken to in such a way. “Um…I’m Critic,” he said. “The eldest prince?”
Snob blinked. “Oh.” He got up slowly and bowed. “Sorry…no one really told me.”
“It’s all right,” Critic said. “You’re Sergeant Snob, right?”
“Yes,” Snob said. “How can I help you, Your Highness?”
Critic looked a bit embarrassed. “Well…Film Brain was telling me about what you did for him,” he said. “And…and that you might be willing to help the rest of us.”
“I see.” Snob reminded himself that being rude to a prince was enough to get him banished. “And you’re here to ask me personally?”
“Make an offer, really,” Critic said. “I know it’s not really in your job description to spend two hours on a floor every morning, but you are better at dealing with this…issue than we are, so…so I was going to offer you double salary if you come in every morning and…and don’t tell anyone else.”
Snob considered it for a moment. On the one hand, he did not relish the idea of taking care of twelve pairs of feet every morning, and just the idea of kneeling on floors for two hours made his knee hurt more than ever.
But on the other hand, double salary was not something he could really say no to, especially if he wanted to get more information out of Captain Finevoice.
“All right,” Snob said. “I’ll start tomorrow.”
Critic smiled at him. “Thank you,” he said. “Would you like to meet the rest of the princes and princesses now?”
Snob shrugged. “Guess I’d better,” he said. “Lead the way, Your Highness.”
Critic turned and Snob followed him out of the library, noticing how much the prince was limping. They headed back to the royal wing of the palace, to the corridor that Snob was sick of looking at already. Critic headed down the hall to the very last bedroom, which also seemed to be the largest.
Inside, the rest of the princes and princesses had gathered, sitting on the bed and what chairs there were, though they all rose when Critic and Snob entered. They bowed and curtsied politely, all grimacing. Critic waved them all down. “Everyone, this is Sergeant Snob. Harvey sent him in to help us.”
The young royals all smiled at him. Snob blinked. “Actually, he just recommended me for the guard,” he muttered.
“Trust me,” Film Brain said. “He sent you for a reason.”
A few of the princesses giggled and glanced at Film Brain, who seemed to ignore them. Critic rolled his eyes. “Sergeant, the princes and princesses: Chick, Spoony, Marzgurl, Elisa, Roses, Grace, Tamara, Lupa, Oancitizen, Vira, and you know Film Brain.” Each of the young royals nodded as they were introduced and Snob bowed to each, even though he didn’t really care what their names were.
“Captain Finevoice had a roster when he was here,” Chick said. “I’ve still got it, if you want to stick with it.”
“A roster?” Snob repeated.
“So we don’t fight over who goes first,” Chick explained. “Rotates every day.”
“Right,” Snob said. “Sure, I’ll take that.” He glanced at Critic. “I can get the medicine for tomorrow, but after that someone will have to pay for it if you want this to stay a secret.”
“We know,” Spoony said. “I’ll send a message to Captain Finevoice, he should be able to hook you up when you see him.”
“I’ll see him tomorrow,” Snob promised. “And you said you’d pay me for this?”
“What do you make per week?” Marzgurl asked.
“Twenty gold,” Snob said.
The young royals glanced at each other, but then Marzgurl nodded. “I’ll give you your first fee tomorrow morning,” she said. “But you have to promise two things: you tell no one you’re doing this, and you don’t ask us any questions.”
Snob shrugged. “Sure,” he said. “If that’s what you really want.” He bowed once more. “But I really should be going back to the barracks now.”
The young royals all nodded and Snob left, his mind reeling.
*
He stood shift that night with a different guard, one who didn’t even introduce himself, let alone chatter as much as 90s Kid. Snob was grateful for that-he had enough to think about.
As ordered, at sunrise Snob excused himself and slipped into the corridor. The other guard frowned at him, but didn’t object. He headed down the hall to Critic’s room and knocked on the door.
Critic called him in immediately. Snob entered the room to see the prince collapsed on the bed, fully dressed except for his shoes, which had been thrown into a corner. Predictably, they were ruined. Snob shook his head and headed over to fetch the water basin.
“Soak your feet for thirty minutes,” he ordered. “I’m going to distribute medicine to the others and I’ll be back to bandage them.”
“Thanks,” Critic said. “Marzgurl has your money…fourth door, when you get there.”
“And that roster?”
“Chick, across the hall...she’s second on it anyway.”
Snob nodded and headed out, stopping at every door and giving each of the young royals the same instructions. Every one of them was exactly the same, party clothes and ruined shoes, looking wrecked and exhausted. None even spoke to him except Spoony, who told him that a message had been sent to Captain Finevoice to meet Snob later that day, and Marzgurl, who gave Snob his pay.
Not that he minded. He simply went about his duty, returning to Critic’s room after he had taken the others their medicine and bandaging the prince’s feet before heading back down the hall to do the same for the others. They all thanked him politely before each lay down to sleep.
Film Brain was last on the roster. He watched Snob closely as he worked.
“You’re hurting as well,” Film Brain said as Snob pulled himself up with a slight groan.
“War wound,” Snob said. “Bullet in my knee.”
Film Brain looked concerned. “Should you be kneeling on floors like this?” he asked.
“Should you be walking?” Snob shot back.
Film Brain looked down and Snob softened. “Look,” Snob said. “We made an agreement before…so let’s add to it. I don’t ask you questions, you don’t ask me any. Deal?”
Film Brain nodded. “I’m sorry,” he said. “Is there a more comfortable way for you to do this?”
Snob shrugged. “Probably, but it would involve sitting on your bed, and that would probably be far outside the realm of propriety, Your Highness.” He turned to the door, thinking that just a few years ago, he would have happily jumped into the prince’s bed, and not just for the novelty of fucking royalty. Damn, the boy had pretty eyes. “Now get to sleep and I’ll see you again tomorrow.”
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