The Final Days of Springborough

Kyrstin was fourteen years old when she had to become an adult. All of her life, she knew that the day would arrive when she had to do the inevitable; when she had to learn the things nobody else her age would have to learn and do the things nobody else her age would have to do. She hated this fact about her life. She hated being special. She would rather be like the children she sees in the town’s streets made of dirt, playing games with little balls and sticks. They looked happy. They looked like children.

She, on the other hand, felt like a prisoner locked in her family’s castle. A strong and sturdy, emotionless gray, big-blocked fortress tucked away in the center of the high walls of the town of Springborough, which her family built generations ago. The castle rose above the village, five times as high as the next highest of buildings in the town. The town was mostly adobe, establishments built out of mud and sticks, and housed families of four. Kyrstin knew that she was fortunate, because she was constantly reminded of that fact by her grandma, Queen Grace who, upon giving up her crown, retired deep into the forest where nobody could find her. For her grandma, like Kyrstin, was not what one called “a people person.” She liked people fine, but a life of royalty to the elder woman felt like a life of servitude.

Kyrstin’s grandma, the ex-queen of Springborough, made Kyrstin’s mother the current queen of Springborough, making Kyrstin a Princess of Springborough. The princess, in fact, for she is the only female offspring of the Lishens’. The other two children are boys, and therefore, more unruly than her. Her brother Thomas was a boy of twelve years of age and a knight in training, while her younger brother, Patrick, was taken away at a young age for reasons Kyrstin didn’t want to think about now.

“Princess Kyrstin, are you ready?” said one of the several servants the castle contained, employed solely to ensure “Princess Kyrstin” got to her studies on time, bathed, and brushed her hair like “a Princess should.”

Kyrstin’s favorite servant, Vicks-Anne, had gone with her parents to a social engagement far, far away. Vicks-Anne was less like an employee to the Princess, and more like a friend. When they would return, Kyrstin hadn’t a clue. Vicks-Anne and her parents left a couple weeks ago, saying they would be “at least a month”, and to “mind the housemaids, and guards, and servants like good royal princes and princesses”.

Kyrstin waited to be asked again by the servant, for she never wanted to seem too eager to speak.

“Kyrstin? Your Highness, you have to get ready for your studies.”

“I’ll be on my way in a moment,” she responded, hoping that the servant couldn’t hear her rolling her eyes.

What the fairy tales and children’s stories don’t tell you about becoming a princess is that you take three times the courses that regular children do. People expected their rulers to be the smartest people in the kingdom, whether or not they really were. In the village of Springborough, a child was out of school by the time they were twelve, sent to work on the farms, or with the Smiths, or the carpenters. And while those kids were using their hands, building things, talking with each other during a work day and making money or goods they could trade for other goods, Kyrstin was stuck in a classroom, by herself, with a teacher. One on one, Princess Kyrstin and her tutor tackled the studies no other child had to take. There was nowhere to hide one’s boredom or lack of interest in the subject.

Rarely, did her brother Thomas show for his coursework. He did not mind the ire of their father, King Daniel.

What the servant didn’t know was that Kyrstin had other plans for the day. She had no intention of going to class. Her outfit of a long dress with slacks underneath, her hair down on her neck, and flats for shoes meant that the young girl had plans of going out, not being stuck being lectured all day. She was going to visit with her grandma, Queen Grace. Kyrstin was starved of conversation, and who better to talk with than a woman who always seemed to know her frustrations?

So, with the servants thinking that she was just gathering her books (A History of the World, The Three Kingdoms of Consequence, Expert Arithmetic, War Practices for Peaceful Times, and The Science Behind Everything) she was really gathering a wicker basket (that she weaved herself two years ago) putting in some unleavened bread and berries (which she cooked herself two days ago,) and covering it up with a green handkerchief that bore her family’s royal seal, an eagle with olive branches clasped tightly in its talons.

Princess Kyrstin peeked out of her bedroom door, making sure the coast was clear and ventured down the castle hallway, lined with suits of armors to give the appearance that one was real. “Sometimes,” her father once said, “we put a guard in one of the coats of armor, just to make sure anybody who walks amongst our halls does not know whether they are being watched or not.” This always gave Kyrstin an uneasy feeling. It did not see to bother her brother Thomas. He never seemed to mind getting into trouble, as evidenced by the fact that one suit of armor, the one to the left of his bedroom door, had a charcoal mustache from a night of the young knight‘s debauchery.

None of the shells of knighthood seemed to mind her slinking away like a thief in the night, so she figured they were all empty as she walked up to Thomas’ bedroom door- the one door of the castle that always seemed to be shut and had a sign that read: “Keep Out” in child’s handwriting. It was a sign aged by years of hanging there, a memento of a tantrum Thomas threw in his youth when he was told he couldn’t keep a lion cub as a pet.

The beauty of being a part of the royal family is that the only people she really had to answer to were her parents, her teachers, and, when her parents weren’t around, her house maidens. This meant that if she could just get beyond the castle walls, it wouldn’t matter who saw her or recognized her from the village, because they couldn’t stop her. It was with a sigh of relief and with quiet feet (she practiced daily to not make any noise), that she descended the grand staircase into the even grander great hall that held her mother and father’s grand thrones, which are elaborately built chairs only the King and Queen could sit on. Down the hall, she went out another door to a waiting area where townspeople would sit and wait to talk with the King and Queen. This room was currently empty as the King and Queen were away.

Then, Kyrstin exited out the door to the outside.

The door to the castle was so heavy, made out of the trunk of several great oaks, that she could barely move it herself. A guard, stationed outside of the door, must have seen it quivering, or heard her straining, and helped her to open it.

Before she knew it, Kyrstin was outside, caught in the sunlight and the fresh air, where two guards immediately stopped chatting and snapped to attention as the Princess emerged out of her family‘s castle.

“Your Highness!” One said, loudly, scaring the creepers into Kyrstin.

“Shhh!” Kyrstin responded, a finger to her lips.

“Your Highness, where are you going?”

“Wherever I please, Guard.” Kyrstin felt horrible deep down being rude to someone who had less than her, but she also never asked to have more. So, the rude feeling was very deep down, probably past the envy she already felt for the man who got to spend all day outside, chatting with the other guards of the castle. “Do you have a problem with that, Guard?”

“No, your Highness. Would you like an escort?”

“No. I should be fine.”

She knew her parents would be furious with her to not accept an escort, but Kyrstin always required one when her parents were around. She was escorted around the castle by a house maiden. She was escorted around the grounds by two guards and a house maiden. Princesses come at a high value in the kingdom, and therefore she was hardly permitted to do any activity that could be considered dangerous, and that included walking anywhere alone. This was one of several things that bothered Princess Kyrstin on a regular basis. This was why today was the day she was going to break free, as her parents were away, and actually do something she wanted to do for once. Why couldn’t a fourteen year old girl just go for a walk alone?

To erase the feeling of prior rudeness, Kyrstin forced her brightest of smiles for the guards. “Thank you for your concern, Knight. I appreciate your commitment to bravery.”

The Knight, feeling better about the conversation, straightened up his posture, put the back of his heels against the castle wall, and gave the Princess enough room to pass. The other Knight, not as prone to conversation with royals, was already at attention when Kyrstin looked over to him, his sword’s tip resting into the dirt as he held the handle downward by his waist. Kyrstin’s family seal was etched into the plate of armor at the Knight’s chest. She eyed the eagle fondly as she strolled past.

All Kyrstin had to do now was get through the village unseen, which shouldn’t be hard as people rarely laid eyes on the royal children, tucked away in the castle. She would then venture through the kingdom walls (which should be open during the day to allow merchants and barters access to the marketplace,) and down the trail into the woods on her way to see her grandma. Within a couple hours she’d be quietly nestled into an overstuffed chair in the cottage in the woods, sipping mint tea and listening to her grandma moan about the frivolous responsibilities in becoming a royal.

Tucked away from view inside her clothes, Kyrstin readjusted a stolen sword, and ventured forth into the great unknown.