41. Tour of Duty
Sure enough, at one of the dining hall's side tables close to a doorway that likely lead to the kitchen, a maid was inspecting a velvet-lined bin of flatware and buffing any whose luster didn't meet her satisfaction.
"Hooray!" the Irishman exclaimed happily. The maid looked up and then around the room in confusion to see what the guest was cheering about. "Sorry, ma'am. Don't mind me. I was told there would be cookies."
The maid smiled knowingly and pointed toward the tables nearest to the hearth. There were plates of cookies set out, along with pots of hot beverages, a large tureen with a ladle in it, mugs, teaspoons, small pitchers of cream or milk, a bowl of sugar cubes, a jar of honey, a dish of lemon wedges, and napkins. The Irishman rubbed his hands together in anticipation, and the other customers admired the ample spread.
"Welcome to the main dining hall," Stefanie grinned.
Anna took the initiative, since a few in the tour group might feel bound by etiquette to wait until she took the first bite. It was one of those weird royal protocols for which she didn't see a good reason, but some people persisted in keeping. And breakfast had been a while ago, by her stomach's standards.
"The pots on this table are filled with coffee, and the ones on that table are tea. And the stuff in the tureen is soft apple cider that's been simmered with fresh apple and orange slices, cinnamon, cloves, ginger, and a little food-grade and medicine-grade boreal saffron," Anna described, savoring the bouquet of the mulled libation. She grabbed a mug, and filled it halfway with the cider, topped off the remainder with tea, added two sugar cubes, and stirred. She raised her mug in a salute to the tour's participants and personnel, and took a drink. She picked up a plate of cookies, and tucked in, dunking a sweet, crisp, buttery tip in the invigorating brew.
The Irishman stepped forward and helped himself to the coffee and cream, and carried his cookies over to a nearby empty table and settled down to enjoy the snack. Everyone else, including the guide and the guards, queued up to create his or her own pick-me-up.
"It tastes a little bit like how freshly mown grass smells," the Irishman commented after a bite of the cookie.
"That's the flavor of boreal saffron," Stefanie explained.
"This is a rich treat, in more ways than one," Newark assessed as he sat down with the baked goods and cider with tea. "The medicine-grade variety is the most expensive commodity in the world: more costly per kilogram than gold, diamonds, vanilla, or regular saffron."
The Irishman nearly choked on his coffee. All of the visitors who had chosen the cider or made a blend with it stared at the contents of their mugs.
"Don't worry, it's included with the tour," Anna assured them. "Besides, it's not like we have to buy it."
"I suppose something that can make the difference between life and death would be expensive," the Dutch mother reasoned.
"It's not so much its properties that make the price so high, ma'am. We would sell it for less if we could. But around 150,000 crocus flowers are required to produce one kilogram of any type of saffron," Stefanie expounded.
The Irishman nearly choked on a bite of cookie. "Are you serious?" he rasped.
"Yes, sir. We know it sounds like an exaggeration, but obviously the stigmas and stamens of a single flower don't weigh very much. Furthermore, they must be dried," Stefanie pointed out. "In addition: The plant blooms for only a few weeks each year; the crop requires some replanting and land management for optimum yields; the medicine-grade crocus grows only in a select area; it's somewhat involved for the workforce to get to the uplands that the medicine-grade variety prefers; the flowers must be picked before they open, and it's not easy work, as you saw in the painting; removing, drying, and packing the threads must be done in a very clean environment; and they must be stored away from air, light, and dampness to preserve the quality. We genuinely don't overcharge, especially considering supply and demand."
"Thank goodness a little goes a long way," John stated. "It takes about the equivalent of only two pinches' worth administered over the course of two weeks to clear up a case of consumption, and five pinches' worth to beat back the plague. I have no idea just how many lives an entire kilogram could save, depending on what kind of infection needs to be cured or prevented, but it's a bargain when you do the per capita math. Gold and diamonds are the overpriced baubles in comparison."
Newark raised his mug in a toast. "To health," the Myrcian proposed. The tour group wholeheartedly echoed his words, and the hall resounded with their voices.
"Oh, I can imagine this place when there's a full house and the drinking songs start," the Irishman marveled. Everyone chuckled.
"I bet it can get pretty rollicking," Debora agreed. "You must be able to fit at least three hundred people in here."
"If we cram the tables together, five hundred people can be seated, give or take, although that limit has only been reached once, in the aftermath of the Great Fire of 1597, when the lower levels of town burned to the ground, leaving most of the survivors homeless and without any possessions, not even a blanket or change of clothes," Stefanie conveyed.
"Nothing like a crisis to bring people together," Papadopoulos noted dryly.
"Yeah, King Brage and Queen Christina really packed 'em in here until they could arrange for some people to be temporarily boarded in other towns while things were rebuilt," Anna supplied, gesturing to a portrait on the wall featuring the aforementioned couple. "They even had several families bunking with them in the master royal suite for a few nights."
"There's a joke about strange bedfellows in there somewhere," the Irishman quipped.
"Couldn't have been as unpleasant as having a lizard crawl across your face at dark-o'clock in the morning," Anna bantered and polished off her drink.
Vollan paused with his mug almost to his lips, making an educated guess as to why the Princess would say such a thing. "Your Highness, I deeply apologize for-" the lieutenant began.
Anna's giggles cut him off. "Don't worry about it, sir. Now that I know what it was and how it got in here, it's kinda funny. It's like something I would have done," Anna merrily conceded.
"It's like something you did do, Princess. Remember the caterpillars in the kitchen?" Grimsen prompted.
"Oh, yeah! I wanted to watch them turn into butterflies, so I brought them in and gave them some fruits and vegetables," Anna reminisced proudly.
"And then you wandered off to ask someone how long you would have to wait, got distracted-" Grimsen narrated.
"Minor details," Anna interjected breezily.
"-and they ended up finding caterpillars all over the kitchen for the next two days," Grimsen continued. The tour group laughed.
"Live and learn," Anna said sheepishly.
"Did you ever get to see a butterfly emerge from its chrysalis, Your Highness?" Homberg queried.
"Yes, my parents and I watched one break free in the garden. It was wonderful ... but what I really wanted to see was how the caterpillar turned into a butterfly. All the stuff that's going on inside the cocoon," Anna disclosed.
"I'll tell you sometime ... when we haven't just eaten or aren't about to eat," Homberg said with a slight grimace.
"So it's gross?" the little Dutch boy asked, clearly fascinated.
"Finish your cider, please," the Dutch father recommended and gave his son a stern look. Chastened, the boy did as he was bidden. Almost all the guests were close to doing the same, or already had.
The Irishman rose, sauntered back over to the cider tureen, and spooned out a sample from what little remained of the liquid. He sipped it tentatively at first, but quickly swigged it after a taste. "Put some whiskey, rum, or brandy in that, and it would definitely cure anything that ails you," he judged. "Thanks for the nibble and the tonic, my good hosts!" The other tourists expressed their gratitude as well.
"You're quite welcome," Stefanie said graciously and stood up. "This concludes our tour. If you would, please follow me to the exit."
They filed out, and down another hall to a room that had a door that lead out to the courtyard, a door that probably lead to a cloakroom or small armory, three desks, a table for six, storage cabinets, and an assortment of souvenirs on shelves. Grimsen pulled out his desk chair, and set up to convert currencies and make change, as the guests examined the merchandise.
"There is a bigger selection at the Royal Gift Shop, but a few items are sold here exclusively," Stefanie informed everyone as they browsed.
Newark, Eliasz, Waclaw, Sinibaldo, and Papadopoulos, along with a few other tourists, quickly snagged Disnee translation and original Greek editions of the works by Archimedes and Ctesibius. However, a volume on the general history of Arendelle was the most popular choice, with every individual or family unit taking a copy. There were ice sculptures of various subjects, some small enough and intended to be worn as necklace pendants, ranging up to an arm-filling replica of the castle.
"This sculpture is broken," the little Dutch boy noticed, pointing to another shelf with a facsimile of the Ice Palace that was missing its peak and balcony and whose base was surrounded by many small translucent pieces.
"Actually, that's not a sculpture; that's a work in progress," Anna said with a smile and walked over to give a demonstration. The other natives covered their smirks with their hands and got ready for the customers' reactions.
Anna picked up a small translucent brick-shaped piece with two regular rows of three shallow pegs on the top, and showed the children that the bottom had two regular rows of three shallow indentations. Then she snapped the brick almost seamlessly into place on top of one that was already in position on the model of the Ice Palace.
"Oooh!" the children chorused, all eyes wide.
The adult guests stared helplessly in silence, as though under a spell. Holt and Vollan struggled to keep from laughing.
"So you build up the main structure like that, and then there are these special pieces that make the corners, the outer stairs, the doorways, the balcony, and the rooflines," Anna explained. "It's like a puzzle. There are instructions, but it's fun to figure it out for yourself."
"Wow!" the children chorused, and immediately started sorting through the pieces and attaching them to the display.
The adult guests stared helplessly in silence, as though under a spell. Stefanie gave Anna a thumbs-up.
"We also have models of this castle, the clock tower, an ordinary town house, a windmill, a ship, a sleigh with figurines of Olaf and Sven, and freeform sets," Anna said, motioning to the colorful, partially assembled examples on other shelves. The Princess gave the windmill's rigid sails a spin to illustrate their functionality. "We'll have some for sale at a booth at the Harvest Festival, too."
"Whoa!" the children chorused, and immediately began investigating the wares in the toy department. Anna, Stefanie, and Holt showed them special features and humorous details in some of the designs, such as the stowaway back seat in the toy sleigh.
The adult guests stared helplessly in silence, as though under a spell. Grimsen noiselessly opened the cash box on his desk.
Newark was the first one to find his voice, emitting a kind of strangled, moaning grunt. "Oh, that calculating ... underhanded ... plundering ... brilliant ... daughter of one hundred ... raiders..." Newark spat out, and nearly doubled over while he fought to keep his volume down. "I ... must ... have ... them all..."
"It's not fair," Irene said quietly. She knew her strategy to pass up the souvenirs had been for naught.
"Not fair at all," John confirmed. He knew his hopes of affording a fishing trip in the near future had been for naught.
"Just take my money," Waclaw repeated. He knew he was going to buy one of each of the freeform sets for himself.
"Right there with you," Zlata commiserated. She also knew she was going to buy one of each of the freeform sets for herself.
"We're going to need to buy more luggage for the voyage home," the Dutch mother said. She knew she was going to buy one of every set for her little boy.
"Where were these things for me when I was a child?" Eliasz wondered. He knew he was going to buy one of every set for himself.
"I suppose we can get by without eating for a few weeks," Debora rationalized. She knew she was going to buy several of every set to give to future grandchildren.
"What are these made from?" the little Dutch boy asked as he and Holt put the finishing touches on the windmill.
"Queen Elsa's magic ice," Holt replied.
"But ice isn't brown or red or green," the little Dutch boy said, and pointed to the rainbow of colors in all of the sets save for the Ice Palace.
"She can make ice and snow be any color she wants them to be," Anna elucidated as she, Adam, Beatrice, and two other children added more rows of nubby bricks to the hull and sails of the model ship.
"You and Queen Elsa must have made a lot of fantastic things with these when you were younger," the little Dutch boy gushed, much impressed.
Grimsen stiffened in his chair and glanced at Anna. John and Irene also surreptitiously checked for any downturn in the Princess' mood. But the young woman only smiled.
"To be honest, we didn't. She came up with this idea after the Great Thaw," Anna divulged. "But we certainly had a blast doing research and development. We built a cottage that was big enough for us and Olaf to sit in and have a real tea party."
Everyone grinned at the thought of a powerful, regal luminary not only making toys, but also still playing with them. Newark finally summoned the nerve to look at the price tags, fully expecting to find out that the Snow Queen's handiwork surpassed medicinal boreal saffron. "Oh, that's not so bad," the Myrcian realized. "Per each, at least. Adding all of them to the cart, however ..."
"You can pay in installments," Grimsen offered helpfully. "We ship to most addresses in Europe north of the Alps for usually between one to three talers per box or pail." The children all played intently with the toys, oblivious to the groans of defeat that escaped from the grown-ups.
"I really didn't mean those things I said about Queen Elsa, except the 'brilliant' part," Newark clarified as he gathered the boxes and lidded pails that contained the magical building brick sets, and stacked them and the books on Grimsen's desk. The piles far exceeded the seated guard's head. "It was just the heat of the moment. I ... underestimated Her Majesty's talents."
"No offense taken, sir," Grimsen chuckled as he entered the extensive order in a ledger book. "Most of us, especially those with young children or grandchildren, responded much the same way when Queen Elsa unveiled the collection. Sometimes, she's a little too good at parting people from their money."
"And you'll say much worse things if you unwittingly step barefoot on one of those bricks. The translucent ones from the Ice Palace set are especially tricky to see," Vollan warned. "It's better to put these together on a table, not the floor; and all pieces which haven't been attached yet should go back in the box or pail when playtime is over."
" 'It is costly wisdom that is bought by experience,' " Newark quoted again with a smile.
"And by the way, all of these except for three of the freeform sets are inappropriate for children younger than four, due to the choking risk. It's all there on the labels and in the instructions," Grimsen said as he began writing Newark's receipt. The other adult tourists paused their activities in sympathy and/or morbid curiosity as the captain totaled the bill. "The damage comes to ... 102 talers, sir. And we'll throw in ten talers and four skillings' worth of store credit toward ice sculptures. Big end-of-season blow out."
Newark didn't flinch amidst the polyphony of resigned sighs, low whistles, coughs, sputtering gasps, and soft yowls from the crowd. Eliasz, Debora, and the Dutch mother and father sat down at the table while they absorbed the shock. Zlata and Waclaw placed supportive hands on their elders' shoulders. The Irishman and Father Papadopoulos fanned air to the Dutch couple.
"Now I see why the tour itself was so cheap, and why the snacks were proffered just before bringing us here: It helps mitigate the ambush at the end," Newark remarked dryly.
"All of the proceeds go to charities," Grimsen reminded. He peered up at Newark between the mounds of boxes and pails, mutely and tactfully inquiring if the customer wanted to remove any articles from the purchase or needed to make use of the layaway option.
Newark retrieved some coins from his pocket and placed them on the desk. "It seems I have been ... outmaneuvered. I obviously didn't bring that much money with me, but I'll be back shortly," he promised.
Grimsen counted the down payment, and tallied the balance on the invoice and in the ledger book, and had Newark initial it. "If we're not here when you return, just show the guard outside the door this bill of sale, and he'll handle the rest of the transaction. You can take the books and ... let's see ... the large freeform and town house sets with you now, if you want to get a head start," Grimsen suggested.
Vollan carefully bagged the books and the box, and set them by the big dark blue pail. He appraised the remainder of the order. "This looks like a job for a handcart," the lieutenant said. "We'll have a footman help you carry all of it home."
"We have the last of the big spenders here. Aren't you too old to play with toys?" the Irishman teased Newark.
"They're for my children," Newark insisted.
"You keep telling yourself that, pal," the Irishman jibed.
"Well, it's my duty as a parent to make sure all the pieces are there," Newark said with feigned haughtiness.
"Now that's a dedicated, hands-on father," John winked.
"I do my best to provide for them and tend to their needs; if I can have a little honest fun in the process after stints of changing diapers and cleaning up sloppy burps, I'll take it. All hail Queen Elsa for making a toy that's also entertaining for adults," Newark acclaimed good-humoredly.
Newark's declaration spurred many of the other tourists to indulge themselves. Homberg and Papadopoulos locked eyes, grinned, and reached for the model sleigh sets. The Prussian also took a medium freeform set. "It can get a little dull on board a ship or out in the field at night," the naturalist justified.
"It's never too late to have a happy childhood," Papadopoulos blithely philosophized.
The Dutch parents got up to check on their son's current endeavor with a freeform set. Holt was helping the boy make a caterpillar and butterfly, both somewhat boxy but undeniably recognizable, and they proudly showed off the fruits of their labor.
"So they allow for a great deal of creativity," the Dutch father observed.
"Very much so," Holt substantiated. "The posts, pegs, gears, disks, rings, half-disks, half-rings, triangles, pentagons, hexagons, and leaf shapes really let you use your imagination. I've seen people make a working water wheel, and invent their own crazy board games."
Eliasz cast a yearning glance at all the youngsters hard at play. "What are the terms for the installment plan?" the Pole hazarded.
"You just pay however much you want, whenever you want, until you've paid in full," Grimsen said simply. "If you change your mind at any time, we give you back whatever you've paid in."
"What's the interest rate?" Debora asked warily.
"There's no interest rate," Grimsen assuaged. "It's not a loan, because you don't take possession of your item until you've paid for it." Debora and Eliasz slouched back in their chairs in relief.
"Does Her Majesty take requests?" Sinibaldo asked.
"She does," Anna answered. "You just need to show her a picture, or give her a good description. But I have no clue what she charges."
Sinibaldo pondered that, and grabbed a large freeform set pail. "Eh, these buckets alone are probably worth more than her asking price," the Lombard reckoned.
"Until your children discover that they make incredible drums when they're empty," Vollan said in a soft aside.
"I'm buying for myself, so no problems for me, although my wife might end up with an earache," Sinibaldo chortled.
The adults waited until children had arrived at good stopping points in their projects. The little Dutch boy smiled in satisfaction at the finished caterpillar and butterfly, and staged a mock fight between the two toys, vocalizing a few low growls and snarls for good measure.
"I knew we should have made dragons instead," Holt wisecracked.
The Dutch father tenderly patted his son's shoulder. "You can play back at the inn," he said. "We'll get the big pail and the windmill right now, and I can come back to get the others later on this afternoon."
Adam and Beatrice looked up at their parents, hoping to see a signal that they had approval to bring home a set. Lunch at a restaurant was much less appealing than these amazing toys - and they were feeling quite full from the cookies and cider, anyway. John and Irene could all but read their offspring's thoughts.
"Well played, Queen Elsa, well played," John said under his breath, and prepared to capitulate.
"Here," Anna suddenly broke in, and handed a large freeform pail to Adam and a box with the model of Arendelle castle to Beatrice. The top of the little girl's head could barely be seen over the box. "I did just about clobber you and scare you to death, so consider these a gift."
"Your Highness, it's not necess-" Irene started to object.
"I have it covered," Anna persevered. "I have an expense account, and even if I didn't, I have the inside track with the manufacturer."
Seeing their children's countenances light up with elation and gratitude was enough to convince the doctor and the midwife to accept the Princess' present ... especially since they had the sneaking suspicion that they would be back soon enough to buy the rest of the collection, and that the Snow Queen would debut new models every year.
"Thank you, thank you, thank you!" Adam and Beatrice burbled.
"Now, we don't ever want to hear you two complain that you're bored and have nothing to play with," Irene cautioned.
"Of course not, mama!" Beatrice pledged.
"These are the best toys ever!" Adam opined. "I can't wait to build something!"
"And we also don't want you making a mess or being irresponsible with them, or fighting over them. Or neglecting your studies, physical playtime, and chores because of them," John commanded firmly. "Remember that we're having our friends over for supper tonight, and so you need to help get everything ready."
"Of course, papa!" Beatrice complied.
"We understand, sir!" Adam said with a smart nod.
The siblings exchanged excited, almost overwhelmed looks. They had been in Arendelle for not quite four days, and already their new home made Anglia seem monotonous, dingy, and inferior. Whatever anxieties they had about leaving their extended family, schoolmates, neighbors, and familiar places behind were quickly forgotten in the swirl of exhilarating experiences. It was like something out of a fairy tale, except it felt far more real than their old, ordinary existence without exceptionally clean streets; castles that welcomed common people and harbored fugitive lizards; princesses who slid down banisters and sang and danced for the fun of it; reindeer who understood human language perfectly; living snowmen and snow-horses; medicine that tasted good; magical queens who broke steel chains and made toys and playground equipment and telescopes and superlative snow for snowball fights; and dinner parties with interesting people from far-off lands. Their minds could hardly keep up with it all, but they could not envision any other life right now.
"All right then!" Anna laughed. "Let's get you all checked out. It'll go quicker if we have multiple lines."
The Princess walked over to one of the cabinets and withdrew two ledger books and two receipt pads, and she and Stefanie sat down on one side of the table to help write up the customers' orders. Vollan and Holt bagged the goods or set them aside for forthcoming pick-up and ferried coins to and from the cash box while keeping a covert watch for shoplifting. Everyone who purchased at least five talers' worth of merchandise received a proportional store credit toward ice sculptures, which prolonged everything as people went back to choose their promotional freebies.
The Irishman was the last in Grimsen's line. He placed only the book on Arendelle's history and a small snowflake pendant on the desk. "You're getting off lightly," the captain joshed.
"Oh, I'm just starting small. I hope to get a bigger souvenir during the Harvest Festival," the Irishman smiled as he paid. "And I want to have enough left in my pocket to give our superb guide a little extra something, if she'll take it." He passed Stefanie a two taler tip.
"Thank you, sir," Stefanie said in surprise.
Numerous tourists, including all of the researchers, followed the Irishman's lead and bestowed the guide with monetary tokens of appreciation. Stefanie stared in astonishment as the bonus accumulated. Holt pumped his fist with comical intensity.
"Sco-o-ore!" Anna intoned musically.
"I really would give you a little extra something, too, Your Highness, but you princesses are a proud, fierce lot," the Irishman pronounced light-heartedly.
"Save it for the performers at the Harvest Festival," Anna urged as he and the other guests waved their farewells and funneled out the door. "I hope to see you all there!"
When the last tourist had finally departed, Vollan regarded the overflowing cash box on Grimsen's desk and the substantial pile of coins on the table in front of Stefanie. "Cha-ching!" he exclaimed.
"How come we guards never get tips?" Holt pouted facetiously.
"I would gladly explain why royal guards shouldn't take money from visitors, but I have to get ready for classes, so I'll leave that to Captain Grimsen," Stefanie riposted as she gathered her windfall.
"What about lunch?" Anna asked.
"I'll grab a quick bite at home. I really need to double-check a few assignments and review today's topics," Stefanie asserted as she walked back through the door that lead to the castle corridor. "Gentlemen, as always, thank you so much for your assistance. And thank you for tagging along, Your Highness."
"You'll ace everything, young lady," Grimsen encouraged.
"See you next Tuesday, sir," Stefanie called back over her shoulder as she disappeared from view.
Anna sighed. She sincerely admired her friend's self-discipline and industriousness. Going to school while working took a lot of dedication, and she often wondered how people managed it, but right now she felt inspired by Stefanie's studiousness. She too had some subject matter that she should brush up on, and then thoughts and questions that she should organize, before chatting with the Bishop. And the guards would probably want to have their lunch break and get things prepared for the one o'clock showing. And she wanted to ask Mr. Larsen, the gallery's curator, about the painting on the back of "The Haywain." And she needed to drop off some vendor invoices at Minister Nilsson's office. And she needed to return Kristoff's sweater, now that she could put on a properly-fitting jacket.
"It looks like my work here is finished," Anna jested. "I'll get out of your hair now, and I promise not to crash any more tours."
"Please feel free to join us any time, Your Highness, as long as you don't literally crash a tour," Grimsen ribbed.
"Believe me, I will never slide down the railing during business hours again," Anna vowed and also walked back through the door that lead to the castle corridor. "Good day, guys, if I don't run into you again - figuratively speaking!"
"That was quite a ride," Holt said with genuine glee once the Princess was out of sight.
"And you got the bumpy part of it, Lieutenant. Are you sure you're all right?" Grimsen posed.
"Just fine, sir. Not a bruise or a scratch. I landed partially on Olaf's legs, so I had a little bit of a cushion," Vollan said.
"Well, if anything feels sore later on, Magnus, go see the doctor," Grimsen advised.
"Certainly, sir. Though all in all, it was kind of interesting to have a taste of the Her Highness' heyday," Vollan laughed.
"Fortunately, she weighed a lot less back then; it was much easier to withstand the impact," Grimsen admitted light-heartedly. "More seriously, gents, this morning's tour exposed a few flaws in our best practices. Let's take a few moments to discuss what we need to adjust."
"Yes, sir," Vollan and Holt said, and immediately sat down at their desks, readying their pens to log their commander's directives, so that they could disseminate the changes to the rest of the security personnel and castle staff.
"First off, as valiant as your attempt to get Olaf out of the way was, Lieutenant, it would be more prudent in the future not to worry about him in similar scenarios. We have to remember that he's an incredibly sturdy little fellow - it probably isn't an overstatement to say he's nigh invulnerable. He has easily survived having his head kicked off on several occasions, being thrown off a mountain, melted by a sauna, mauled by wolves, and flattened by that runaway sledge loaded with ice," Grimsen recounted. "And even if he were to come across something that could damage him, I feel certain that Her Majesty could fix him without any difficulty. And likewise, I feel certain that Her Majesty would be ... distressed if someone were to be needlessly injured for one of her snow-creature's sake. I know it runs counter to our instincts as protectors, but with magic in the mix, we have to know when to stand back."
Holt nodded slowly as he wrote. "So, it's just like the 'Don't come between Queen Elsa and potential trouble' rule," the sergeant concluded.
"Exactly. You've seen that as long as Her Majesty is conscious and thinking clearly, she can defend herself and others far better than we can. We probably have even less to worry about with Olaf and his snow-siblings because they don't have flesh or blood. Or bones. Focus on the ordinary people and animals first in dangerous situations, and let the magicals handle things their own way," Grimsen emphasized. "Which ties in with our second point: We need to put a 'Quiet, Please - Do Not Disturb' sign on Sleipnir's stall door."
"Totally agreed, sir," Vollan very quickly corroborated.
"Absolutely agreed, sir," Holt very quickly concurred.
"I don't think he's going to hurt anybody, mind you, but I also don't think goading him is particularly wise," Grimsen hedged. "The courtyard is more or less open access during the day, and unfortunately, as word of his existence gets around, the guests are going to want to see him, or at least ask about him, and the simple fact that he's not one of the tour exhibits will only add to the allure. Minister Haugen projects that almost twice as many tourists will come to Arendelle next summer. And I project that some of those visitors are going to be a lot more presumptuous or injudicious, so the stablehands and courtyard guards will need to be extremely vigilant."
"We could just let Sleipnir kick the head off of the first person who trespasses in his stall, sir; it would be covered by the liability waiver, and I bet that it would get the message across," Holt said, tongue in cheek.
"Tempting, but no," Grimsen said dryly.
"We could ask Queen Elsa to move Sleipnir's accommodations somewhere more off the beaten path, sir," Vollan advocated.
"The problem with that is, he does like Sven and Olaf, and they really do like him. And Her Majesty likes to check in on him at least once a day, and it's best if she can conveniently do so without using that ... teleportation technique," Grimsen pointed out. "I shudder to think what the clamor will be like once the general public knows he can ... materialize out of thin air."
"Sir, he almost always stays inside his stall when the tours stop at the stable, and no one has ever noticed or cared about it until today. I think that if Her Highness hadn't brought the carrots, and that Myrcian gentleman hadn't made the 'unicorn' comment, there wouldn't have been an issue," Holt posited. "Maybe all we need is a strict 'No Treats' policy for the stable stopover and a 'Quiet, Please' sign, and have Her Majesty explain the deal to Sleipnir."
"I suppose we can do that first," Grimsen acquiesced, "and try more extreme measures if it doesn't work."
"You would think the threat of being kicked into the middle of next week would be more than enough deterrent," Holt said drolly.
"Sergeant, the fact that some people lack common sense is what gives us job security," Grimsen smirked. "And that brings up my last point: We'll have to make sure all the guests are appropriately attired for the outdoor segment. I know hauling out and packing away all the foul weather gear is a nuisance, but we've entered the time of year when a sweater or light jacket is sufficient at dawn, yet an overcoat is needed by noon. I don't think we'll have that many more foreign tourists coming through until next spring, but Princess Anna won't be the last person who doesn't check the weather forecast before getting dressed."
"In Princess Anna's defense, sir, I don't think she planned on joining the tour this morning," Vollan upheld.
"Nonetheless, she did join us, and she walked outside unprepared for the temperature. I was remiss for letting her do that," Grimsen acknowledged. "I didn't want to put the tour further behind schedule, but that was the wrong priority. I should have told her either to put on a cloak before we left or stay inside. Yes, Her Highness also should have known better, but it is our job to intervene when a castle resident or guest makes a misstep. Many of our visitors have no idea what to expect here, so we need to be on our toes even with something as commonplace as the weather."
Vollan bobbed his head. "We should evaluate them in the front foyer while we wait for the tour to start, sir, and maybe move at least some of the ponchos there so we can hand them out as needed at the beginning," he put forward.
"Can do," Grimsen consented. "All right, men, is there anything else you noticed or want to add?" Vollan rubbed his palm on the edge of his desk and shifted in his chair but remained silent; Grimsen smiled kindly. "You know that no one is truly angry about the lizard and crickets, Magnus."
"That's not it, sir," Vollan equivocated.
"You know that you have permission to speak freely," Grimsen prodded. "Because, as Mrs. Grimsen will testify, I'm not a mind reader."
"I think we need to work on our approach to the royal family's ancient genealogy if the guests ask about it," Vollan broached. "You were a little ... curt with the customer, sir. Surely, you understand that it's only natural for people to speculate when they hear the part about Snærr and Jökul and the others."
Grimsen stared at the overloaded cash box for a few moments. "That girl has called herself enough ugly names; she doesn't need the scientific community branding her inhuman, even if they try to whitewash it with 'superior' terms," he finally said softly.
Vollan and Holt were jarred by their commander's informal reference to the Queen and his intimation about her old life behind closed doors. They knew that Rune Grimsen had been one of King Agnarr's few confidants concerning his magical heir, and had sometimes even dandled their current sovereign upon his knee when she was a very young child, but he rarely let anecdotes or familiar forms of address slip when talking about the monarchs of Arendelle. The captain of the guard had obviously been privy to things that made him feel very strongly about nomenclature.
"Sir, perhaps we should remove Nórr's ski from the display case," Vollan politely suggested. "It would reduce the likelihood of the lineage coming up in conversation."
"Eh, the information is freely available to anyone who reads up on Arendelle's past, Lieutenant. It's mentioned in the history book that everyone always buys in here. It's mentioned in the sagas and annals, ours and Thelir's and some of the older Norwegian and Icelandic ones. The skalds mentioned it in their poems. Maybe the laity wouldn't give it a second thought, but the diplomats and scholars like the Myrcian gentleman certainly will - and do," Grimsen grumbled. "We will just try to keep the conjecturing to a minimum during tours, and grit our teeth when the so-called learned experts churn out dissertations about which ancient magical race Her Majesty is descended from."
"That's what I like about you, sir: You always see the good in everybody and keep a positive outlook," Holt deadpanned after a few beats.
"Kid, I have been called 'Grim-Face' since I was five-years-old," the captain boasted with no pique. "Queen Elsa bade me to return to active duty precisely because I'm a distrustful sourpuss. Her Majesty's powers attract more than just honest, innocent folk with honest, innocent curiosity."
"Very true, sir ... but we should be aware of ... cultural differences, to some extent," Vollan delicately maintained. "By some society's standards, being equated with the old gods, giants, or nature spirits is a high compliment, sir." Grimsen gave no indication of being moved from his stance. "And some of the tourists have very different customs and come from very different backgrounds than we're used to, sir. Our Irish guest this morning may have rubbed you the wrong way, sir, but possibly it's normal to be that outgoing and casual in his country. Sir."
Grimsen snorted a laugh. "He played up the funny, gregarious Irishman stereotype a little too much. I was half surprised he didn't try to pick any pockets during the tour, but he'll probably be caught thieving in some way during the Harvest Festival," he predicted with a smug grin. "Or maybe even sooner. He knows at least the Myrcian gentleman and the Dutch family have more funds to draw on, and he got a good look at how full or empty a few other money pouches were."
"Are we going to alert the constables, sir?" Vollan asked, genuinely concerned.
"They've already increased their patrols, added plainclothes officers, and the innkeepers and merchants have been instructed to take precautions and be on the lookout. Chief Constable Johanssen is ahead of the game," Grimsen commended. "Which reminds me, Lieutenant: Her Majesty is going to have tea at the Visby embassy at four o'clock today, and you and I are cordially invited to come along with the other high-muck-a-mucks."
"How come I never get to watch the fireworks?" Holt whined facetiously.
"Because the language could get too rough for your young, untainted ears, Sergeant," Grimsen joked.
"Besides, you might have a better view from farther away," Vollan chimed in.
"Well, if Queen Elsa does anything really spectacular, you have to tell me all about it, sirs," Holt demanded playfully.
"Of course, but most likely she'll only mete out some mind-numbing legalese," Grimsen bantered. "All right, boys, reset the toys for the next tour group, while I'll deposit this morning's revenue in the vault; then we'll break for lunch."
Vollan and Holt grinned and began partially disassembling the magical building brick sets, as Grimsen unlocked the side door. He carried the heavy cash box inside a strongroom that contained some weaponry, a safe that was obviously made by the Snow Queen, and several sheets of paper pinned to the wall. The captain set the till on top of the coffer and pulled out a key made of ice to unlock it ... and abrubtly apprehended why the Irishman had seemed so familiar.
Author's Notes - The part about just how many crocus flowers are needed to produce a kilogram of saffron is pretty much true - or at least something that you can read on the internet, which is just as good. I opted to make boreal saffron seemingly quite potent because most of our modern wonder drugs and even essential nutrients are effective in the milligram if not microgram range.
The magical building bricks are, of course, a shout-out to Legos™. Elsa's ice is even more amazing than plastic, and while in this chapter it's used to affectionately razz Disney for squeezing the last cent out of parents the world over, they are more like a "Chekov's Gun." They will be important (and funny) later on in the story in various ways, especially the special "inventor's/engineer's" freeform set that Elsa gives to the Mandelbaums. Hint: Arendelle gets hydroelectric power! A few of my other "minor details" will also be important later on in the story.
You will find that Grimsen is very much a family man, and views Elsa and especially Anna as almost his own daughters, since he spent so much time trying to keep or get little Anna out of trouble. Of course, the other guards have no idea how torn apart the royal family was when the gates were closed.
A slight word of warning about my author's notes: While I never lie in them, I do engage in some "misdirection," just as the story will feature some misdirection for both the characters and you the readers. Very meta, I know, but such things are fashionable these days. But I am not misdirecting you when I say I will not be doing shock value kill-offs or cheap-shot plot twists in the vein of "Game of Thrones/A Song of Fire and Ice." When characters die in "Force of Nature," it will be important to and logical/consistent with the plot. And while a conventional Disney happy ending is not in the cards, that does not mean the ending can't be unconventionally happy. Because this chapter has quite a bit of foreshadowing ("Nothing like a crisis to bring people together." - "Live and learn." - "It's never too late to have a happy childhood.") which hint at some uplifting moments.
Because there is a lot of wiggle room in a de-powered/separated/dead ending. Some points and possibilities to ponder:
Rapunzel was de-powered in "Tangled," and the ending was still happy; in fact, it was more believably happy than it ever could have been if she stayed powered, and people were constantly begging her to rejuvenate them, or constantly trying to kidnap her to force her to rejuvenate them. And while Elsa losing her powers as a result of a villainous scheme is certainly a downer, you might be "okay" with Elsa losing her powers because she understands that giving them up would Do Something Really, Really Important And Heroic, and she chooses to do so of her own free will. And then there's the possibility that there was a little mix-up at birth, and Elsa gives the ice-magic to its "rightful owner." There are a few other angles to a de-powered ending that aren't so unhappy, such as Elsa no longer has to worry about the "Woman of Absolute Zero (Or At Least Dry Ice), Significant Other of Mostly Water" effect or whether she would freeze her own baby to death while giving birth.
Likewise with separated. Because there's being able to come visit her family/friends whenever she wants, a la "Frozen II." And, while it has a tinge of sadness, there's being separated because her family/friends have naturally passed on while she remains; a number of fanfics have already gone in this direction, even long before the sequel. I will tease that some of my characters will wonder if Elsa could "preserve" living organisms as easily as she "preserves" Olaf's carrot nose and Duffin's shortbread, which opens up the possibility that Elsa might not be alone even if she turns out to be immortal-ish.
And there's C.S. Lewis' "The Last Battle" kind of dead: "Come further up, come further in!" Which would be especially uplifting because my version of Elsa is a smidgen worried about the whole soul and afterlife thing. And there's the possibility that Elsa's human form is only her larval stage; the caterpillar must die before the butterfly can take shape. Or there's the "become one with the Force" Jedi death, or a transcendental illumination which merely leaves the old physical body behind. Death need not be dark or a sundering.
I'm not saying that any of the above options will happen in "Force of Nature," just pointing out that there are plot developments that might seem initially/superficially gloomy, but they give you that "Anna made the right choice!" excitement and happiness before too long. Trust me, I'm not going to peck out an octillion words just to figuratively punch you in the gut. I myself always prefer positive endings. But there should be some tension, some credible doubt that they all don't live happily ever after, some element that makes you feel engaged, that there's "something at stake," otherwise you'll get bored and stop reading.
