Pawnshop Princess
’ve been writing letters with an exiled princess for some time now, but this is my last one. We’ve been pen pals for years, but in all fairness, I might be the only person she can write to. I’ve only met her in person once, when she was fleeing from some power-hungry aunt or uncle. We were young back then, and neither of us really understood the situation.
My family runs a pawnshop on the westernmost edge of town. On a map, we are the closest human structure to the vast goblin swamps. This is on purpose. Goblins trade amazing and wild things. My father has a magical pair of elven boots that allows him to walk up walls, and he bought them off a goblin for two coins—one coin per boot!
Most people don’t like goblins, but some people change their mind real quick when they are on the run. Usually I mean criminals, but in this one case, I mean Princess Dorresa, or Esteedia.
I had heard about people who were on the run and went to live in the goblin nation. If a goblin tried to live in a town like ours, the townsfolk would run it out, but weirdly enough goblins never turn away any humans, elves, or anyone.
Although most of the goods in our pawnshop come from goblins, we do get these occasional travelers who are looking to leave their old life behind and start a new one outside of the human kingdoms. We’re their last chance to exchange items from their old life for something of value in goblin territory. Let’s just say we buy and sell a lot of horses this way.
I was running the shop with my mother when a girl my age came in. She stood in the doorway and looked at me as if she did not know how to speak. She wore a brown riding cape that was covered in dry mud. Her clothes underneath were not nearly as dirty though. She was wearing a dress with a floral pattern from one of the more eastern kingdoms. The trader in me immediately noticed her necklace tucked into her collar. As she stood there nervously, I noticed her pierced ears. No earrings. And there were bulges under her riding gloves. Likely rings.
She stood in the doorway for a while; she seemed to be waiting for someone. Then, a figure completely filled the doorframe behind her. The eclipse surprised me. The man was enormous. I wondered if this was someone from the giant nation, but as he stepped inside the store, I saw he was just a tall man with a well-groomed goatee. He wore a dark brown riding cloak that he kept closed around him. As he moved, I saw that he carried a sword at his side.
The man stood protectively near the girl who seemed eager to stay in his shadow. They approached my mother who worked the counter. She must have smelled money on them because she gave them the high-class treatment. She greeted them with “Hello, good sir, what a fine day. What rare goods might you be searching for?”
The man paused, and the girl did the same. He looked a bit embarrassed as he said, “We are but humble farmers looking to sell our horses.” These two did not look like farmers, and I suspect my mother was surprised by his response. She told the man that she needed to consult my father, which was a lie. I think she just wanted my father in the room in case there was trouble. She then sent me out to inspect the horses.
We sell a good number of horses, and outside the shop were two pristine riding horses. I remember thinking to myself, Oh, my mother is going to make a lot of money selling these beauties. The horses were well-shoed and their teeth were white as pearls. Those horses were cared for, and that’s when I knew something was off about those two. I was very curious.
I went back inside, and the man was at the counter with my father and mother. The man had items on the table, and I knew the haggling had begun. The girl had wandered away from the man and was slowly examining our stranger items on display: trinkets of unknown origin and carvings of various animals. I stepped closer until I was an arm’s length away.
I noticed she was looking at a bone carving of an animal. I put my hand to the glass and said, “That creature is an alligator. It’s like a dragon, but without wings.”
The girl looked at me with startled eyes. She looked at it again, then turned back and asked. “How big do they grow?”
With some excitement, I explained that alligators can grow very big, but this news seemed to upset her. I explained that she didn’t need to worry though—they only live deep in the goblin swamps. That was when her eyes began to water. She wiped her eyes and said, “That is where I’m going, but I don’t want to be eaten by one of these beasts.”
Now please keep in mind that I was only eight years old. I was not thinking of her situation right away and was very curious. I asked her, “Why are you going into the goblin swamps? Most people hate it there. It’s smelly and has a lot of bugs. Only wanted criminals go there. Are you a wanted criminal?”
I had not realized she was holding back so much emotion. Her face squeezed as tears leaked out of her eyes. She was using every face muscle she had to suppress any loud sobs.
I quickly apologized and tried to cheer her up while glancing back at her protector, but luckily, he was stuck in a sales routine my parents ran. The girl started to make a noise like when a kettle was ready for tea. I needed to calm her down.
“Oh, hey, it’s okay. My name’s Louix. I’ve been to the goblin swamps plenty of times. I even rode an alligator, but please don’t tell my parents.”
The girl sniffed and looked up at me. “You—you rode one of those things?”
It was a lie, but I had heard some of my goblin friends tell me that they had ridden alligators before. The most I had ever done was poke a dead alligator with a stick, but the girl was calming down, so I continued talking.
“The goblin swamps really aren’t so bad. I just didn’t think a girl would like them. The bugs can actually be very fun, and some of them glow at night all year round.” She seemed strangely interested in bugs. She explained that she used to keep butterflies at her castle. She described how the caterpillars tickled her when they crawled on her arm, and how on her birthday the whole kingdom would release butterflies. She had always liked butterflies, because she was born with marks on her back that looked like little butterfly wings.
For a moment, she seemed to have slipped back into her old life as she talked about the butterflies. She then paused, and I could see in her face that she was re-realizing her present. The salesman-trainee in me kicked in.
“What’s your name?” I asked. She seemed surprised and glanced at her protector nervously. Seeing that he was distracted, a look of resolve came across her face. She draped her hand forward and curtseyed.
“I’m Dorresa. Pleased to meet you, Louix.” Looking back, I think I was supposed to kiss her hand or something, but instead I touched her hand as if to shake it. I had no idea what to do. This gave her a smile, and she brought her hand back to wipe her cheeks.
She asked me more about the goblin swamps. I tried to keep it positive. She asked if there were any other people in the swamps, but I suggested that she avoid any humans she might meet in the swamps and instead try to find elves. The friendliest elves have black marks on their faces, and they’re much more trustworthy than any people or goblins. Then I had an idea, and I asked her if she could read. She seemed a little offended by the question but said, “Yes.”
I ducked behind the counter and found a thin book. It wasn’t for sale. It was actually an old birthday present of mine. The book was called A Guide to Waif Towns. She had a look of confusion as I showed her the book.
“A waif town is a town in the goblin swamps run by humans or elves who cannot return to their homes.” I explained this while flipping through the pages to find a map. “Some are ruled by ruthless bandits who want to avoid capture; you’ll want to avoid those places.” I found the map and handed the open book to her. “This one, Knotwood. This is where you want to go. They’re the only town with a sheriff. My grandfafer made this map, so it’s better than most.”
Dorresa leaned into the pages. Then, she flipped to the very front page of the book and read the inscription: “To Louix. Don’t be afraid of the greenies. If you’re ever in trouble, they will always take you in. Come visit me sometime. Love, Grandfafer.” She looked up at me and asked, “Does your grandpa live in the swamps?”
I looked back at my parents. They were closing up the deal and it looked like her protector didn’t do so well. “He does live out there, but my parents won’t say where.” Then I had an idea, but I wasn’t sure how to ask. “Maybe…if you bump into my grandfafer, you could write to me and tell me about him?”
Dorresa gave a serious nod and tucked the book into a satchel. She asked, “Can we really send letters from the goblin swamps?”
I scratched my head and said, “Well, you can write to us. A lot of goblins know about us. Oh, be careful what you write in the letter, because they will definitely read it.”
Suddenly, I could feel the shadow of her protector over me. He extended his hand to escort her out. She looked at me and said, “Thank you.” She took his hand and left.
That evening, my aunt came over for dinner and my father revealed to her, with great exaggeration, how he managed to trade garbage for royal treasures. How he not only got the two most beautiful horses he had ever seen, but also an array of jewels. My mother laughed about how a knight pretended to be a farmer, and how his desperation made it so easy to talk him down. She speculated that it might have even been the famous knight, Sir Rodrigo the Southsword, because he was left-handed. It was that evening that I realized I had spoken to royalty.
Days later, knights from the distant kingdom of Esteedia came to our shop, but my parents had already sold the horses and hid the jewels. The knights might have suspected something, but my parents knew what to say to make them leave.
It was months later when I received a letter. It was a thank you letter. She had found safety in the place I had suggested. Regretfully, she had not seen my grandfafer but asked me for more details about him so she could ask around. She said the book saved their lives and she wanted to repay me.
We exchanged letters every few months. My parents knew about it and joked that one day I would be a king. As a precaution, I arranged to receive the letters without my parents knowing. Let’s just say that the letters grew more personal.
Yesterday, my mother asked me directly if I was still exchanging “love letters” with the princess. I lied, but she could tell. My mother called my father, and they spoke to me seriously. They wanted me to write to the princess again. They told me that she was the only living heir to the throne of Esteedia and that her people were willing to pay a lot of money to have her back. If we were the ones to find her, they would pay us handsomely.
I eagerly reached for my parchment and quill, and wrote in big letters, It’s safe. Your people want you back! Your people will once again release seagulls for your birthday! Come back and we will escort you to Esteedia.
My parents happily proofread the letter and then promised me a carriage as a reward. I addressed the letter, and let my parents send it out. Later that night, I wrote a second letter:
To Ms. Butterfly,
You are the last of your family. People want you dead. Trust no one, including me.
This time, I put the correct address on the letter and gave it to a goblin friend. I knew my parents had lied to me. They had that look of business in their eyes. There was money on the line—a lot of money. Royal blood money.