Kris Kringle
Chapter Fourteen: Long Live The King

“Good, I was hoping you would be here,” Jack said in an out-of-breath voice. He had just arrived at the Shepherds’ stable in the Green Pasture, running most of the two miles to get there. All of the Shepherds from the previous meeting he had attended were there, except Kris.

“You saw his picture in the marketplace?” Jack asked the group, holding up a portrait drawing that resembled Kris’ face. The caption read, “Wanted—By Order of the Royal Family.”

The Shepherds were somber and quiet. Rudy took a moment before he answered.

“Jack, you cannot pick and choose when you want to be a part of this and when you do not,” came the stern reply, “You were never technically invited to join us in the first place, and I now fear our allowing you and Kris to be here at all was a serious mistake.”

Jack removed the top hat from his head and gave Rudy an intense stare. “You call this a brotherhood, and yet the moment one of your ‘brothers’ is in danger, you cut the ties that bind you to him!”

Rudy stood up from where he was seated in the circle.

“Kris Kringle may have just ruined everything that we have worked to create!” Rudy shot back, matching the volume and passion of Jack’s voice, “What he did today betrayed our trust. It put himself, the princess, and everyone in danger—and I don’t just mean every Shepherd. Every person in Silverbell will suffer if Kris in any way revealed the purpose and plan of the Shepherds! I welcomed him into the fold because I thought he was a young man with wisdom and strength beyond his years. Today he showed me he is just like so many other young men: rash and foolish.”

Paul, who had been sitting there quietly, spoke up. “Did you help him get into the castle, Jack?” he asked.

“No,” Jack answered with an angry frown on his face, “But if he had asked me, I likely would have.”

Rudy sighed. “We don’t know how he got into the castle, but according to Paul, Lord Renier is furious and will not rest until Kris’ head is before him. If Kris is still alive, I fear he will not be for long. And if he does turn up, we have no choice but to turn him in.”

Jack opened his mouth to protest but Paul interjected.

“You cannot argue this, Jack. Renier is a madman and would execute us all if we were found to be protecting Kris in any way. When Renier takes full power, we are the only hope that Silverbell has, and we cannot risk that all on Kris. His actions today were his own. He must now accept the consequences.”

Ian looked up at Jack from where he was seated.

“His actions were not just his own,” Ian said aloud, “I helped him get into the castle.”

The thick tension that was already felt inside the dark stable was now shifted toward Ian.

“I will not bother explaining why I did, for everyone’s mind is already made up on the matter,” Ian continued, “But Kris and I both agreed that action needed to be taken. As Shepherds, we have allowed our fear of doing the wrong thing to paralyze us from doing the right thing. You may banish me from this brotherhood for acting without your consent. You are certainly justified in doing so. But if Kris’ life is lost, it will be the first of many in the war that is sure to come. And when the battle drums sound, I hope you will finally be ready to act.”

The Shepherds were quiet once again, the frigid words of Ian hanging in the cold air.

“What was Kris hoping to accomplish today?” one of the Shepherds chimed in.

“He wanted to speak face-to-face with the princess,” Ian answered, “He was hoping to get more information on the note she had written as well as any updates on the king’s whereabouts and well-being.”

A small smile appeared on Paul’s face. “Well, maybe the darn fool was successful after all,” he admitted, “Word throughout the castle says the intruder escaped from off the balcony of the princess’ chamber and ran into the woods.”

“What does it matter?” Rudy responded immediately, “Renier will waste no effort finding him, and when he does, it will all be for nothing.”

Jack replaced his top hat and shook his head. “Maybe that should be the motto of the Shepherds, instead of your ‘Peace and goodwill’,” he snorted, “It will all be for nothing.”

And with that, Jack turned and left the stable.

The night was cold and dark, especially among the lush brush and foliage of the South Forest. Kris’ body was exhausted, and he did not know how much further he could keep moving. Indeed, he had not stopped pushing his way deeper into the forest from the moment he escaped from the castle. For all he knew, the royal guards were not far behind, and he could not bring himself to rest for fear of capture. But he could not go on much longer. The moonlight breaking through the canopy of trees provided some light by which to navigate, but his eyesight was growing dim for want of sleep. The pain from his injured foot continued to bark at him with every step he took. He had to rest, if only for a moment.

He collapsed next to a large tree and let out a deep breath, the pain in his foot causing him to wince as he did so. He had no idea where he was or how far he had traveled. He had no concept of where the forest road might be in relation to him, but he was not necessarily looking for it either. There was sure to be activity from the castle on that road, and so Kris could not afford to be anywhere near it. Still, he did not know how long he could survive in the forest by himself with no supplies or food.

But right now he was not concerned about hunger. He wanted nothing more than to sleep. He could hear nothing but the sound of crickets, and so he convinced himself it would be okay to rest his eyes for a time. But just as he was about to fall into sleep, his eyes shot back open.

Someone, or something, had just poked him.

Kris leapt up from his resting place and searched around him but could see no one. Had something actually poked him or was this simply the imaginings of an exhausted mind? As he questioned his own sanity, he heard a soft, high-pitched voice.

“You’re alive,” the voice stated simply.

Kris looked down from where the voice came from but could still see no one.

“Who are you?” Kris asked desperately, “Show yourself!”

His command was obeyed, and before Kris appeared a small elf, removing the invisible shroud that had covered him. Kris was dumbfounded and again thought that perhaps his mind was playing tricks on him.

“What are you?” he asked the small creature, whose impish face and green clothing were now perfectly visible in the ray of moonlight he was standing in.

“Are you a friend of Santa Claus?” the elf asked, brushing aside Kris’ query.

Kris looked at him confusedly. “Who?” he asked with a tired voice.

“Santa Claus,” the elf repeated, “There is another human like you that I also found in the forest. Grinkers says he had a dream about him and says his name is Santa Claus. Do you know him?”

Kris shook his head. “I guess I don’t,” he replied honestly, the perplexed look on his face remaining, “But I would like very much to see him. Can you bring me to your village? I am tired and have no place to stay.” Sᴇaʀch Thᴇ Find_Nøvel.ɴet website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

The elf looked up at Kris with a serious face. “You are running from someone, aren’t you?”

Kris nodded.

“The one who chases you—he is a bad man?”

“He thinks I am,” Kris replied.

The elf continued to look deeply into Kris’ eyes. “But you are a good man,” he observed, “I can tell. Follow me.”

The elf led Kris past another thick cluster of trees, eventually bringing him to a small decline, at the bottom of which, Kris saw a beautiful little village, the open windows of its small cottages revealing the warm glow of a fire inside. Kris followed the elf down into the village and was brought to a small structure that looked as though it had been recently built. It was much larger than the elfish homes, and as Kris’ guide brought him inside, he saw a familiar figure sleeping on a bed inside.

“My name is Felix,” the elf finally introduced himself, “And this is the man we call Santa Claus. He has not woken since we brought him here.”

Kris reverently approached the sleeping man.

“My name is Kris,” he replied, examining the ripped red robe and bandages on the injured man, “And this is not the man whose name you say. This is the king of Silverbell. My king.”

He smiled as he realized the significance of the fact that the rightful ruler of Silverbell was before him, still alive.

“This is good King Wenceslas.”

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