42. That One May Smile, And Smile, And Be A Villain
Grimsen pulled one of the sheets of paper off the wall and glowered at the likeness on the small poster. With the exception of a moustache, the face on the page was a spot-on match of one that had left the castle just a few minutes ago. The chin, lower lip, cheeks, eyes, and lower forehead were undeniable; the hair and eye color were right, and the nose was a perfectly faithful rendering of physical reality, which was to be expected since Princess Rapunzel herself had drawn and tinted the portrait on the flyer. The only differences were the hair style and lack of the moustache.
The captain of the guard inwardly cursed himself. They had had the brazen devil inside the castle, and they let him get away! If only he had trusted his gut feelings more and insisted on frisking the slick joker before they left the front- Grimsen clenched his jaw and forced his mind back in the here-and-now. Second-guessing needed to wait because the dangerous fugitive was still on the loose in Arendelle. He dashed from the strongroom with the paper in hand, instantly gaining the full attention of his subordinates.
"To arms, men!" Grimsen called out. "Maybe we can still catch that killer!"
"Yes, sir!" Vollan and Holt barked. They didn't yet know what this was about, but they could tell this was not a drill or a prank. All three guards ran into the strongroom. Each slung a short sword on a baldric over his shoulder and tucked a pistol into his belt; Holt seized a light throwing javelin; Vollan gripped a stouter pike; Grimsen took a crossbow and a quiver of bolts. They stopped back at one of the cabinets in the guardroom to claim ponchos, doffing their tall hats and slipping the ice-fabric raincoats over their heads.
The trio rushed out the door to the courtyard, startling the sentry keeping watch on the veranda. He squared his shoulders and prepared to join the fray upon seeing his comrades geared up for battle.
"This is serious, Pettersen," Grimsen told him. "We have a man wanted for murder, assault, armed robbery, burglary, and fraud on the loose." The captain held out the poster for the others to see. "Did you see which way this lowlife -minus the moustache- went?"
"He went toward the gates with the other tourists, sir," Pettersen answered.
"All right, signal a 'high alert,' " Grimsen ordered. "In case he's still lingering within the castle perimeter, consider him armed and dangerous: He has killed two people in France, severely wounded someone in Corona, and is implicated in the deaths, suspicious disappearances, or grievous injuries of at least four more people in Andalasia, Spain, and Portugal. There should be another copy of this notice in the west guardroom. Go get it, take it to Queen Elsa, and tell her that Michael Luch -if that is his real name- better known as Mickey the Mouse, also known as Lucky Luch, has been positively sighted in Arendelle, and that we need more copies to distribute. Her Majesty will instruct you further. Tell her that we're in pursuit, and will report back as soon as we've caught him, exhausted all immediate leads, or are recalled."
"Yes, sir!" Pettersen said and sprinted down the length of the portico while Grimsen, Vollan, and Holt pulled their ponchos' hoods up and charged off through the light rain toward the causeway gate.
"You were right, sir," Vollan acknowledged. "We should have-"
"Save it!" Grimsen interrupted. "We have to concentrate on the present! This piece of trash will take advantage of any opening or distraction, and has no qualms about slitting a throat or putting an eye out to get his loot or escape capture."
"And to think we gave him cookies," Holt growled.
They reached the guard booth built into the castle's outer defenses. The sentinels at the station had already observed their fellows hurrying towards the bridge and were waiting to hear the bad news.
"Ivarrssen, did this man -minus the moustache- leave the castle grounds?" Grimsen asked, thrusting forth the poster.
"Yes, sir. Just a few minutes ago, sir," Ivarrssen replied. "I assume he's dangerous game."
"Correct. If he tries to come back through while we're out searching for him, let him in, and then shut the gates and subdue him by any means necessary - but be careful," Grimsen directed. "Her Majesty will be informed shortly, and will likely send reinforcements and be ready to assist you herself, if need be - but don't let her underestimate him."
"Yes, sir! Good hunting, sir!" Ivarrssen saluted.
Grimsen nodded grimly, tucked the poster in one of his poncho's inner pockets, and the search party tore off over the causeway to the waterfront plaza. The tour group must have beaten a hasty retreat indoors due to the dismal weather; only a few locals could be seen shopping or running other errands in the cold rain. The lack of a trail brought the guards to a halt at the flower market.
"You don't exactly look like you've come to buy a posy, sir," Charlotte quipped. She and the other workers at the gazebo were having a slow day, but the guards clearly had more business than usual. The spears and crossbow in their hands were a dead giveaway ... and, quite frankly, a little disconcerting. It was very abnormal to see Arendelle's law enforcement officers openly carrying weapons, so she knew they were not chasing a mere pickpocket or shoplifter.
"Not at the moment, ma'am," Grimsen said mildly and pulled out the flyer. "We're looking for this man - minus the moustache. I doubt he's the type to buy flowers, but he might have been among the crowd that must have passed by here not that long ago. Did they mostly stick together or go their separate ways?"
"They broke mainly into two groups. One went toward the new part of town, and the other seemed to be headed to the big inn. There were also five or six stragglers who turned off down the bank's street," Charlotte let them know.
"Should we split up, sir?" Vollan queried.
"We only have one copy of his picture right now," Grimsen pointed out.
"I know what he looks like, sir," Holt declared menacingly.
"Kid, you won't know what hit you when he creeps up behind you and bashes your head with a frying pan or wine bottle," Grimsen countered.
"Um, should we close up shop until you have this little issue taken care of, sir?" Charlotte asked nervously.
"Don't worry, ma'am. Just stay alert and stick together, and you'll be fine, folks. He's an opportunist who would rather sneak around, and really doesn't want a confrontation, especially not with a group. And our backup should be arriving soon," Grimsen allayed. "Let's go down the bank's street, men, since he'd prefer to prey on a lone person with cash in his or her pockets. And the constabulary headquarters are down that way, too. Maybe they still have one of these wanted posters. And we can stop in at the bank and visitor information center to give them a heads-up." They nodded solemnly to the flower merchants and moved off.
They only needed to go past a few storefronts down the bank's street before they spotted a poncho-wearing constable making his rounds. Upon seeing the physique of the man, Grimsen knew it was the chief constable himself: Johan Johanssen VI had been a longshoreman at the port town's docks before the Queen rewarded his heroism during the Eternal Winter with a job offer, and his shoulders were even broader and more muscular than Ice Master Bjorgman's. He was definitely the kind of person that you wanted on your team during a crisis, and the guards felt less tense knowing that he was on patrol. They broke into a jog toward the police chief, and Johanssen in turn briskly trotted to meet them.
"Good morning, gents. Trouble afoot?" Johanssen deduced.
"We have an unwelcome visitor in town for the Harvest Festival, Chief. Do you still have the wanted poster for Mickey the Mouse?" Grimsen asked, showing the flyer as they all automatically marched swiftly toward the constables' center of operations. "He's clean-shaven now, but I don't think that he's cleaned up his act one bit."
"We should, Captain. I understand the Coronans handed these out when they came for Her Majesty's coronation, so that was before my tenure, but we don't use wanted posters for dart boards or other target practice until we hear the subjects been brought to justice," Johanssen stated.
"Good. We can start canvassing the inns, and you can do the-" Grimsen began.
"Sirs!" a voice shouted from behind them. They turned to see a group of poncho-wearing guards and castle footmen approaching with messenger bags made of ice-fabric. The reinforcements had arrived.
"What does Her Majesty command, Olsen?" Grimsen inquired.
"You are to return to the castle to brief the Queen, sir, and the chief constable is also to stop by," Olsen conveyed. "We have squads checking all the inns, boarding houses, registered rooms-for-let, and taverns in town, sir; and inspection points being set up on all the roads leading from town; and clerks combing through the travel permits, ships' passenger manifests, and border crossing records; and couriers delivering these to every residence, place of business, and government office in every community in the entire country, and putting them up in most highly trafficked areas, sir."
Olsen reached into his messenger bag and withdrew a stiff, colorful, glossy page that had an exact reproduction of the portrait from the Coronan poster, plus data in the Disnee language about the outlaw's height, weight, current lack of facial hair, a description of a distinctive tattoo on Luch's right forearm, his modus operandi, a concise list of his worst attributed crimes, what preemptive safety measures to take, and what procedures to follow if Luch was sighted.
The guard pulled up a tab from the back of the flyer and pressed it against the corner of the visitor information center, somehow affixing the ice-paper to the wood via a magical technique. Olsen nodded to the senior officers, and went inside the visitor information center to explain the state of affairs and circulate posters. The other members of his squad were doing the same at all the buildings on the bank's street. There was no doubt that every entryway in Arendelle -from the ornately painted double doors of the richest entrepreneurs and land owners to the flaps of the humble tents of the Sami nomads- would be visited and warned well before the Harvest Festival began.
"Queen Elsa is nothing if not thorough," Johanssen laughed as the quartet hastened back to the castle.
"She plays to win," Grimsen concurred. "That smiling villain doesn't stand a chance now that our forces are mobilized."
They made the turn back out on to the waterfront promenade - and from beneath a front porch landing, a pair of mirthless eyes peered between the step risers, and watched the high-ranking security personnel depart. The mirthless eyes also sized up the underlings as they worked rearward, attaching posters at every intersection and on every prominent building, and speaking with the natives. Since his impromptu hiding place was across the street and cater-cornered from the visitor information center and the bank, the Irishman hadn't been close enough to hear the conversation, but he could easily guess the gist of it, and he was far from happy. Michael Luch's trip to Arendelle was already not going as he had envisioned, and this turn of events complicated matters.
Many enticing rumors of the petty kingdom's affluence came with its rise to international fame, but once he arrived, he found the truth to be quite a letdown. To be sure, there was great wealth here, but most of it apparently went to things like a public education system; a public health care system; a public sanitation system; a public safety and defense system; public parks, nature preserves, and recreational facilities; and other public infrastructure. That was all well and good for the inhabitants, but it was completely useless from the perspective of someone looking for portable, unattended articles of value. The locals lived comfortably, but they did not seem to be an overly materialistic people: He had yet to see anyone in town who could be classified as indigent, but neither did he see any genuine opulence. Even the castle was small by other kingdom's standards, and its exterior was on the plain side. He also had yet to find anything that resembled a criminal underworld. Either the local thieves were so few in number and unorganized that they were not much of a factor, or they were such a competitive or exclusive bunch that uninvited newcomers had no place at the metaphorical table.
Luch's spirits had improved upon hearing that the interior of Arendelle's castle could be toured. He would exploit the renowned open gates, since the castle seemed to be his only prospect for a big heist. If the natives were going to be nice enough to allow him to scout the floorplan and the objectives, he wasn't going to rebuff their misguided friendliness.
But the Irishman's spirits sunk again when he saw how well-picketed the castle grounds were - and all the vantage points designed into the castle's outer defenses. He had no doubt that there were unseen security staff watching in all directions from the wall's upper walkways and turrets. These guards were annoyingly sharp-eyed and sharp-minded, which took him somewhat by surprise, since the various men-at-arms on the job during the Eternal Winter had been so slow-witted and passive that they would have let their country be usurped by that charming, cunning prince, and didn't notice that a substantial portion of the royal treasury's assets was being purloined by a local official.
Apparently, Arendelle had learned from its mistakes, and getting on the fortified island and slipping inside the castle without detection was going to be problematic. It would probably require a small rowboat and a big diversion. Something like a raging fire in town or a missing child -or snowman- that would draw enough of the kingdom's forces away from the castle.
As if that wouldn't be enough of a headache, Luch also realized once the tour began that the castle's interior was simply not laid out and furnished with skulking in mind. The hallways and lobbies were bright, with lots of junctions and doors that could open at any time, and there wasn't much cover to duck behind, other than a few velvet curtains - and Princess Anna had helpfully demonstrated that it was fairly easy to bring them loudly crashing down with a wrong step.
But the most disappointing feature of the tour were those protective cases made by that eerie Snow Queen. He should have anticipated something like that, given the barriers that he had seen in Arendelle's bank on Monday. It went without saying that the magic ice was completely tamperproof. Even when those four guards in that armory went home, even if those two guards flanking that door went home or dozed off, even if every royal employee and civil servant went on strike and every local reverted to a state of oblivious helplessness, those cases and walls of magic ice were always on duty. Unless there were unshielded crown jewels elsewhere in the castle, the Irishman's hopes of stealing another tiara or similar precious items were crushed. That chivalric collar with all the gold, emeralds, and amethysts would have been a perfect acquisition, since it could have been split into its components with very little effort and sold piecemeal all across Europe without arousing any suspicion about the provenance. And the Arendellians weren't even using it as a knightly award anymore, so it wasn't as though someone would be terribly hurt or inconvenienced if it just disappeared. But it was beyond his reach.
Therefore Luch decided he would have to settle for artwork, since the Polish woman and two junior guards had helpfully demonstrated that the paintings were hung on the wall by ordinary means and there was nothing magical to thwart him. The only difficulty, apart from getting in and out of the castle, was that many of the canvases and boards were positioned too high up or were too large for one person to abscond with, especially if escape entailed a small rowboat. However, that Chinese painting of the cat was manageable and would probably fetch a fine price. There were more than enough unscrupulous dealers and collectors who would be happy obtain an exotic masterpiece, with no questions asked.
If he supplemented that with enough "small jobs" and a few kilograms of boreal saffron, he could have an excellent haul from Arendelle. The Irishman hadn't known boreal saffron was so expensive before the tour, but he had immediately appreciated its potential. He could probably demand even more for it on the black market, since criminals, mercenaries, and other people who lived outside the law and wanted to keep a low public profile often couldn't turn to legitimate doctors when they incurred inevitable injuries or fell ill. Luch was certain that curmudgeon Grimsen wasn't bluffing when he had confirmed that no one could get near the crocus processing facilities, just as he was certain that eerie Snow Queen had installed more magical security devices there. Ditto for the public health clinics. But he knew there was some of the medicine in the castle, probably in the kitchen. And if all else failed, he could pass food-grade boreal saffron off as medicine. He would have to find out if there were obvious ways to differentiate between the varieties, but he doubted many laypeople would know them if he himself didn't. And besides that, a sick child or spouse often made people desperate enough to believe things that were too good to be true. He could sell it by the pinch all across Europe and be long gone before the dupes figured out it was ineffective. Actually, he had half a mind to gather the stigmas of any species of crocus and misrepresent it as the real thing to the gullible masses looking for a curative miracle. Tiny morsels eventually added up to a big meal.
Just like how the "small jobs" sustained him until he could set up a "magnum opus." Luch had spent much of the past three days reconnoitering the port town and surrounding cliffs, and while the pickings were unimpressive in terms of public displays of wealth, there were many nice places, like this crawl space beneath the porch and some deep crevices in the rocks, to stash his swag, temporarily dump the tools of his trade, or cache water and nonperishable food in the event that he encountered "complications." Now that his "mouse holes" were established, he could commence with making his living.
Relieving Miss Rask of her gratuities would be his first order of business. It had been very easy to bait the other tourists into making a nice pot of gold for him. All Luch needed to do now was discreetly tail Miss Rask back to her home, wait until she left for her one o'clock class, sneak in as quietly as a mouse, and burglarize the bejabers out of the place. If she still lived with her parents, all the better. The cartwrights were probably one of the more well-heeled Arendellian families, so there could be some decent jewelry, a bigger reserve of cash, and possibly some tableware made from real silver. It would be past lunch time. The menfolk were very likely hard at work in their woodshop; the older children were at school; the young adults were also either gainfully employed or continuing their education, like good, upstanding citizens; if the matriarch were home, she could be counted on to be busy cooking, cleaning, mending, or tending to the small children, and if Luch were patient, the opportune moments would arise. And Miss Rask's tidy sum of money would be jingling in his jacket's pockets on his way up to a cleft by the royal burial ground, where he would safely store it until he wanted to retrieve it.
He had made sure to leave the castle's campus at a more leisurely pace than the other tourists, briefly stopping to feign studying the royal chapel's facade, nodding respectfully to the Greek priest when he went in to chat with the Bishop. He ignored the rain and took his time crossing the causeway. He lingered as inconspicuously as possible in front of a few windows that showcased the consumer goods within the stores that lined the waterfront plaza, and waited for Miss Rask to transit the causeway and set off for her residence. When she hurried by and turned down a lane, Luch nonchalantly followed, keeping a careful distance. His good-humored smile metamorphosed into a cruel smirk, and the genial, curious look in eyes transformed into a rapacious gleam. Now that he was locked onto his quarry, and no one else was watching, there was no need for pretense.
With the prize so close to his grasp, it was all he could do to keep from howling in frustration when Miss Rask entered the bank.
People carrying tidy sums of money went inside banks for only one reason: to deposit most, if not all, of their tidy sums of money. Luch glared malevolently at the building. He resolved to still stalk Miss Rask back to her house and help himself to anything of value that wasn't nailed down - and maybe a few that were nailed down, if nobody was home: he carried his reliable pry bar with him at almost all times. He lurked in the shadows between two shop frontages, waiting for Miss Rask to reappear.
When she did, he paused a few moments to give her a head start, and then cautiously peeked around the corner to make sure all was clear. He swallowed a crude oath and withdrew back to the shadows when he saw a constable coming up the street on his beat, and stopping to exchange a pleasantry with Miss Rask. Naturally, the main office for the town's police would be on the same street as the bank and many of the most alluring tourist traps.
This specific constable looked like he had even odds of successfully wrestling and pinning a bear, or punching its lights out. Nor was he merely strolling along with his thoughts elsewhere. He was checking for anything out of place, looking down all the narrow easements between buildings. Luch quickly reached for his reliable pry bar, which he kept looped inside the left breast of his jacket, deftly levered a wooden lattice panel off the side of the porch landing, scrambled behind the steps, and stood the loose lattice panel back in position, taking shelter until the constable passed. The Irishman was forced to concede the contest ... at least for the time being.
This was just a fleeting setback. Arendelle's Harvest Festival would be full of engrossed residents and tourists, wandering from one attraction to the next, and overwhelmed vendors trying to keep up with the customers' demands. There would be plenty of pockets to pick, tills and tip jars to filch from, and unoccupied houses and hotel rooms to ransack. He was also positive a helpful, naive local would point out the Rask domicile to him, if he asked innocently enough. He wanted at least the two talers that he had tipped her back, in some form or another.
Luch wasted no time in mapping out his next angle of attack: Seeking out the Dutch family, and striking up a sham friendship with them. He knew one of the Dutch parents would return to the castle to buy more toys, which conveniently narrowed his search area and gave him an amicable conversation topic. Presumably, they were staying at Arendelle's biggest inn. And, with a little luck, so was the rich Myrcian. Under the guise of camaraderie, and, with a little more luck, the Irishman would be able to enter the inn without arousing the hotel staff's suspicions, which would allow him to quietly raid the rich Myrcian's room when the opportune moment arrived. Then, under the guise of familiarity and trust, he would kidnap the little Dutch boy during the Harvest Festival, and give Arendelle a "missing person" drama to pull everyone's focus away from the castle. Luch also might be able to squeeze a ransom payment out of the scheme, depending on how quickly he needed to flee Arendelle and how much he could steal from the castle.
Plus, if worst truly came to worst, and he was caught trying to breach the castle's defenses, he could use the little Dutch boy's whereabouts as a bargaining chip. Or, if Luch had to run from the petty kingdom with the law breathing down his neck, he could use the little Dutch boy as a hostage to demand safe passage. If he was satisfied with his takings in Arendelle, he would, of course, let the little Dutch boy go, eventually. If his harvest was paltry, however, he could sell the little Dutch boy at his next port of call. There was almost always a ship with an unprincipled crew or an aristocrat with depraved appetites.
It would be too bad for the little Dutch boy, but the Irishman was in dire need of funds. And he wasn't about to stoop to doing so-called honest work. He had tried that once when he was a youth, and it simply wasn't the path for him. He was his own master, not a wage slave. Nor was he some inept, indolent thief who was afraid to go after a big treasure. No one who showed-up that defector Eugene Fitzherbert, formerly known as Flynn Rider, and stole the Queen of Corona's tiara could be called incompetent, lazy, or timid. It was just that "complications" were bound to happen at some time in the course of a career such as his, and, unfortunately, a series of "complications" had ensued in France starting in June, and much of Luch's summer had been wasted sitting in prison, escaping from prison, and trying to stay one step ahead of authorities who were rather irate while hotfooting it from Paris to Antwerp.
It was too bad for those two French prison guards, but when given the choice between their lives and his, Luch didn't need to think twice. He knew his sentence would have been either death or spending the rest of his days doing forced labor in the French and/or Coronan penal systems - which was even worse than death. Killing the guards in order to escape had been nothing personal; it was solely an act of self-preservation. But as a consequence, he needed to avoid France, at least for the near future, which in turn meant that the Irishman had run out of his favored territories, just as he had run out of gemstones from the Queen of Corona's tiara.
Luch's initial plan to extort a ransom for the tiara ran into some "complications" when he was spotted by a Coronan palace guard, who needed to be silenced before he could raise an alarm. After the sequence of events that transpired, he knew that giving the Coronans any hints about his location and movements would be incredibly stupid, as would be trying to sell the tiara in its intact, famous form. He was not about to press his luck further, since he was amazingly fortunate that Princess Rapunzel's aim when she threw the frying pan was slightly off, and that she stopped to administer medical aid to the downed guard instead of giving chase.
The heir to the Coronan throne definitely had a fierce side, her kind, friendly, helpful nature notwithstanding. Early in his sojourn in Corona, Luch had contemplated kidnapping Princess Rapunzel: Even though her healing powers were gone, she was still the beloved daughter of very rich parents who had already tasted the bitterness of losing her once, and the wife of a turncoat who needed to be reminded that "going straight" had repercussions. But he quickly scrapped the idea when he realized how formidable she was, which seemed to be a common trait among these real-life fairy tale characters. On the voyage from Antwerp to Arendelle, Luch had also entertained the notion of abducting Arendelle's magical monarch and either extracting a huge ransom from the petty kingdom or, better yet, forcing her to serve him -her powers were astonishingly useful and she was very pleasing to the eye- but he purged the thought from his mind after seeing her destroy steel and concrete so easily at the waterfront on Monday. Anyone foolish enough to try to take that eerie Snow Queen prisoner would quickly come to understand the magnitude or his or her error. Similarly, he had briefly considered targeting Princess Anna once she made her entrance, but she had far too much martial training for his liking, and besides that, she could probably unintentionally knock him out or otherwise wreck his plot just by being her cheerful, happy-go-lucky Princess self.
It was undoubtedly better to stick to abducting weak, fearful, submissive women and children, and as soon as the policeman went a little farther away, Luch could crawl out of the woodwork and scurry off to lie in wait by the castle for a member of the Dutch family. He slunk back out to once again warily survey the street, and swallowed a cruder oath and rushed back under the stairs. He crouched in the darkest part of the shadows, his heart hammering in his chest.
Three very familiar royal guards carrying weapons were talking gravely with the constable. This was not a good sign. To make matters worse, more royal guards and castle staff soon appeared on the scene and began posting notices. This was definitely not a good sign, especially since he immediately comprehended that the process was happening on every street in the port town and would be happening throughout the rest of the country before long. Luch watched the guards depart, and sourly wondered how that curmudgeon Grimsen had identified him and how Arendelle's authorities could produce such a great quantity of wanted posters in such a short amount of time. The tour had ended about only thirty minutes prior, and no printer's shop worked that fast.
The street finally seemed clear; at least the rain was keeping the civilian passers-by to a minimum. The Irishman flitted over to one of the posters, snatched it off the wall, and ducked back under cover to examine it. His lips curled into a snarl.
Luch recognized the portrait as Princess Rapunzel's handiwork. He knew she had gotten a good look at him when he was "dealing with" the Coronan palace guard, and he should have thrown his dagger and skewered that royal brat's forehead when he had had the chance. This portrait was the reason he was captured in France, and might very well be his downfall here. Obviously, Arendelle was no longer an isolated backwater that was barely on most people's maps, literally or figuratively, and crime alerts reached even these rocky northern coasts.
Angrily, the Irishman tried to ball up the poster ... and found that it utterly resisted his repeated best efforts. He tried to tear the poster into pieces ... and found that it utterly resisted his repeated best efforts. He tried to soak it in the rain to soften it ... and found that it utterly resisted water. He tried to besmear it with mud ... and found that it utterly resisted staining. He tried to stab it with his dagger ... and while the blade did pass through when enough force was applied, the puncture repaired itself as soon as the knife was removed. He just knew that he could try to burn it ... and it would utterly resist the flames. This could only be the creation of that eerie Snow Queen. Luch shivered, and not just from the cold and the dampness. He quickly dropped the ice-paper, in case it might also be some kind of magical spying device that allowed that eerie Snow Queen to gaze upon whatever was in front of it.
His thoughts shifted to immediate escape. He weighed his options. He could steal a horse and cross into Norway at some unguarded place on the border. However, that would require going "off road," and in Arendelle that meant traversing steep mountains and thick forests -in a storm, no less, if he started out now- which was not something Luch wanted to take on with a strange horse of dubious temperament. Furthermore, the residents of the port town had only a few horses, and most of those were strong and sure-footed but plodding pack and draft animals. The best mounts he had seen thus far were in the royal stables, which brought him back to the original problem of accessing the castle. Even if he somehow pulled it off, that eerie Snow Queen's eerily marvelous steed and that smelly reindeer were probably impossible to sneak past, especially if they too were warned about him. There was also the problem of getting through the causeway gate with a horse. Fleeing over land was impracticable.
There were plenty of boats in town, but any craft small enough to manage single-handed would be doomed in this approaching storm, especially since the Irishman had only basic seamanship skills and didn't know much about the local tides, currents, and navigational hazards. He could try to stow away on a larger vessel, but Luch was sure all ships would be closely watched while in the harbor and thoroughly searched before setting sail. And he wouldn't be able to gather information in advance about the ship's destination or how long the trip would take; he would have to guess, and right now, uncertainties were wholly unappealing to him. Finding out that he had been taken right back to France, or Spain, or Portugal, or Andalasia, or Corona -although it was tempting to think of paying a little visit to Princess Rapunzel and Prince Eugene when they were sleeping- would be disastrous.
The only thing to do was hunker down in his "mouse holes" until the storm passed. Once the sea was calm and the winds had abated, he could steal an appropriately sized boat that had good resale value and skirt the shoreline until he came to an appropriately bustling community, like Christiania or Stockholm. Luch would let his beard grow in the meantime, not that he would have a chance to shave anyway while he stealthily moved from hideout to hideout. The coming days would be lean times indeed, with just his emergency rations to sustain him in the tight, out-of-the-way places while the gale blew in from the northwest. At least the storm would work to the Irishman's benefit, somewhat: It would keep most of the regular people indoors, and that meant fewer eyes to get a glimpse of him.
Luch decided to risk making a break for his primary lair. During his explorations of Arendelle on Monday, he had stumbled upon a rope merchant's warehouse. The tall, sturdy racks for the large spools of various gauges of line were great makeshift ladders for climbing up to the open-beamed ceiling, where he made a nice nest for himself high in the shadows. Unless a light were shone directly on him, or he made noise, no one would notice him tucked in the low corner of the roofline on the joists. The Irishman would take refuge there for most of the storm, and then move to the niches and crannies in the cliffs when the rain was subsiding. He wanted to be away from all of the Harvest Festival goings-on and have a good lookout in case all of the Harvest Festival goings-on provided him with the opportune moment to escape from Arendelle ... and maybe swipe a few goodies as he left.
After checking again to make sure no one was on the street, he rushed across to another dim, narrow alley between buildings on the other side. By staying off the main roads as much as possible, Luch worked his way on a vaguely diagonal route to the rope warehouse. There were a few tense minutes when he saw guards and constables working the neighborhood and needed to stop to hide under more porch stairs and once in a garbage bin, and he made a few wrong turns due to Arendelle's irregular layout, but the Irishman kept his composure and finally arrived at his provisional den. Once more, he looked both ways before crossing the street to sidle into the gap between the rope warehouse and another commercial building, and his heart nearly stopped beating.
The street's orientation afforded him an unobstructed view of the cliffs that backed the port town, and a huge version of the wanted poster had suddenly materialized on the rockface. Luch actually squeaked in terror and raised his arms in surrender, expecting to be swarmed by constables, guards, and maybe even that eerie Snow Queen and an army of savage snow-golems. But no one stirred; the only sounds were light rain pattering and the wind blowing. After realizing that law enforcement was not closing in and his shock wore off, the Irishman stared mesmerized at his own enormous image, looming over Arendelle like a powerful god or giant from the old legends. It was the most splendid thing he had ever seen. He longingly, tenderly stretched out a hand toward his visage.
He recoiled in fright when the picture began to change. The face's moustache was slowly erased from the upper lip, yielding an incredibly accurate estimation of what his hairless philtrum looked like. This was becoming much less of an ego boost. Luch unconsciously clasped a hand over the lower part of his face.
The poster altered itself again, this time growing a light beard. The extrapolation was a disturbingly realistic approximation of what he looked like with full facial hair. Luch stroked his currently naked chin, and sensed that Christiania and Stockholm might be too close to Arendelle for comfort. Revised copies of Princess Rapunzel's artwork would probably be circulating throughout the Scandinavian peninsula before he could even get out of Arendelle's fjord. Perhaps he should have been quiet and unobtrusive during the tour ... but he could rarely pass up a chance to make guards and police look like the fools they usually were.
The poster reverted to its clean-shaven state, but then further modified itself. First, the head was adorned by a hat with a wide, floppy brim that partially obscured the image's eyes. Next, the hat flickered away, and the hair on the portrait's head grew longer, with slightly curly tresses falling over the shoulders. A modest, snug-fitting woman's bonnet was added to the crown, only to be replaced by a much more frilly and feminine one. Heavy make-up was applied to the image's eyes, cheeks, and lips, but no amount of cosmetics could turn the Irishman's physiognomy into a comely lady, and the invisible beautician seemingly gave up on the endeavor. Instead, the bonnet disappeared, and a bright pink powder foundation was suddenly plastered all over the face, from the top of the forehead to the bottom of the neck, even some dabbed on the ears. The hair shortened into an unkempt mop of wavy locks dyed a garish orange. Then large patches of white were splotched around the eyes, brows, and mouth of the clown, followed by bold, black outlines, creating a puzzled, forlorn expression. Finally, a red disk -expertly shaded to look like a three-dimensional bulb- was placed over the nose.
Luch was not amused by the derisive tone of the variations; he hated being the target of jokes, and his "business associates" had quickly learned that he would not tolerate being ridiculed or scorned. But he was much more troubled by the unsubtle message behind them: Trying to disguise himself would be futile. Anyone with a painted face or wearing clothing that partially shrouded his or her head would no doubt be under scrutiny. He hadn't even thought of using a costume to "work" at the Harvest Festival as a fake street performer or leave the country incognito, but that eerie Snow Queen had obviously thought or been advised that he might have. Which meant that she had probably thought or been advised of the other courses of action that he might take.
The Irishman felt his throat tighten, a psychosomatic symptom of the awareness that this was the most difficult "complication" he had ever been embroiled in. As if on cue, a noose formed around the collar of the clown rendition of himself up on the cliff. He pursed his lips. From here on, he couldn't trust anything to be what it seemed. If the circumstances looked too perfect -the right kind of boat in the right place at the right time, for example- it was more than likely a trap.
The clown make-up and wig abruptly vanished from the wanted poster, leaving behind the normal, clean-shaven portrait. And now two black disks -stylized mouse ears- were attached to the top of the image's head. The eyes became larger, darker, and beadier. The nose and mouth were stretched out to form an elongated snout. The invisible cartoonist embellished the muzzle with whiskers and protruding front teeth. For good measure, a piece of cheese held within a noose's knot dangled tantalizingly to the side of the mouse-like caricature of Luch.
The Irishman barely stifled a furious roar as that ice-witch mocked him and his totem. Luch's chosen logo was as important to him as a family coat of arms was to a pompous, inbred nobleman or a national emblem was to some patriotic saphead. He took the trite snowflake pendant out of his pocket, hurled it on the ground, and violently stomped on it to crush it ... but naturally, the magic ice utterly resisted his repeated best efforts. There wasn't even a scratch or scuff to be seen. As if on cue, the ice-witch's colossal snowflake sigil, identical in detail to the small ornament in Luch's hand, supplanted the mouse-human amalgam on the cliff. The insignia on the rockface shone with an intense blue-white light that overpowered the gloom of the clouds and rivaled the brightness of the sun itself on a clear day. The snowflake pendant sparkled like a diamond in the dazzling display before the radiant symbol dispersed in a glittering spray of fine particles.
The professional criminal sneered at the exhibition of power. He also had power - the power to take away that which other people had worked long and hard for, that which other people cherished. He was going to make the ice-witch and her smug, contented subjects regret her childish jests. The old legends were filled with tales of daring, clever thieves who got the better of mighty magical beings. He would infiltrate the castle somehow. He probably wouldn't be able to steal anything worthwhile, but he would vandalize that lovely art collection. Luch would paint his trademark over every single canvas. Or, even better yet, he would set fire to the gallery ... and the library, too. All those books would be wonderful tinder. The Irishman wished he could burn down the entire castle, but he knew the ice-witch would douse the blaze before that could happen. However, destroying the gallery and the library was quite feasible. The ice-witch and her people could cry amidst the ashes. He would leave the royal family the snowflake pendant and the book on Arendelle's history (which a little note inside) as souvenirs of his visit.
Luch shoved the snowflake pendant back in his pocket, slithered over to a window on the concealed side of the rope warehouse, pried it open, and climbed inside to weather the storm, and bide his time. There would be an opportune moment.
Author's Notes - So, here's my first active villain. Not too nuanced, just a garden variety sociopath/psychopath. I tried to make him as much of an "unredeemable monster" as I could (thumbs up to the sequel for alluding to the cold, hard fact that real-life sociopaths/psychopaths do NOT change their ways - more on that later). I'm sure most of you figured out that the Irishman was up to no good, but you might not have been expecting him to be so despicable underneath the funny, gregarious act. Then again, that's how sociopaths/psychopaths operate. You probably weren't expecting Hans to turn out to be so malevolent, either. That's what makes them such effective predators in real life and in fiction. You should imagine the soundtrack for the part from "Many enticing rumors..." through the end of the chapter to be in the style of an orchestral version of "The Rains of Castamere" by Ramin Djawadi - an example of which can be found on Youtube uploaded by "supernova."
This type of character is not exactly fun to write, because they are realistically very one-note and staccato when they're no longer trying to be charming and winsome and you're giving the perspective of their genuine personality. But unfortunately, Elsa needs to start somewhere. Can't just wait until there's a multiple-faction battle to test what the Snow Queen can, or can't, do. The first thing that has to be established is if Elsa can "make the shot" under pressure, especially if she is already having a bad day. As in: "Lt. Vollan has a knife to his throat" kind of pressure. (The soundtrack for that will be in the style of the "low brass" cover of "The Rains of Castamere" uploaded on Youtube by "BoveAudio.") We know Elsa is prone to freezing up and/or panicking, but we also know that if Elsa is focused and/or angry, she is capable of "blasting it out of their hands" accuracy. And there are many possibilities in between accidentally shooting the person she's trying to save and god-mode precision. Makes for very good drama and character arcs.
Perhaps you can now see the method to my madness with all those details in the tour. Some of those details set up much of Mr. Luch's initial plans, and others are setting up more things to come. In fact, this chapter's discussion of how difficult it is to get inside Arendelle's castle sets up/foreshadows how difficult it is to get out of Arendelle's castle if the defenses are ever breached by an invading force and Elsa has been deposed. Same goes for the town. If I do this right, there will be many points when you will want to re-read some previous sections.
Elsa trolling Mr. Luch will be explained in the next chapter (it's a deliberate ploy), but at the same time Elsa is very much a wiseacre, based on "I don't dance ... But my sister does ... Sorry." And Olaf unconsciously, and gently, channeling Elsa's sarcasm when he totally ruins Anna's poignant hesitation in front of the Ice Palace's doors: "... Knock ... Just knock ... Why isn't she knocking? ... Do you think she knows how to knock?" And the song "We Know Better" from an early version of the original movie definitely played with concept of Elsa as a little trickster.
I justify someone being able to steal the Queen of Corona's tiara by inferring that whatever information Eugene/Flynn used would still be floating around in the criminal underworld. I justify Rapunzel's aim being a little off by the fact that she was definitely distraught and panicking when Eugene was mortally wounded, and she would probably be the same way with anyone she felt close enough to, especially if you throw in the added angst of knowing that her healing powers are gone. That Rapunzel would stop everything to give first aid or get someone to a doctor is a no-brainer. (Much, much later in the story, Elsa will have a similar choice, but that's not such a no-brainer, particularly since the person/thing she is pursuing is really, really, really dangerous.)
I know Andalasia is from a hand-animated universe, and magic seems to be common there in "Enchanted," but hey, all the old hand-animated Disney Princesses were ported over to CGI in "Ralph Breaks the Internet." And I cannot resist a chance for Elsa and "Queen Nancy" (another woman with a secret!) to briefly cross paths. Everyone remarks on how they sound quite a bit alike. Just being cutesy.
For the purposes of this story, Corona is located about where A Coruña province is in Spain, with some more of Galicia as a hinterland. Andalasia is roughly where Andorra is, but it extends to the Mediterranean Sea like a narrow cone between France and Spain. Otherwise, France, Spain, and Portugal are the same as real-life. As a teaser, Weselton is located where Wesel and part of the rest of the Wesel district are in real-life Germany. (Check out the city of Wesel's coat of arms on Wikipedia; not sure if some Frozen fan is just being a troll or not.)
