Please Welcome These Giants Into Your Library

Meet The Giants: 7 Big Reasons to Welcome Newcomers

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LAUREL DECHER

“Life in the Seven Kingdoms is never dull . . .” –Jen McConnel, School Library Journal

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About GIANT TROUBLE: The Mystery of the Magic Beans

book cover for fairy tale for ages 9 to 12 Giant Trouble 560 width

A Magical Warm Welcome!

When the beloved Mr. Giant keels over in the Royal Marigold Restaurant, it’s a recipe for trouble for eleven-year-old Prince William of Marigold!
 

Find the cure for Mr. Giant’s mysterious sleeping sickness and cook up a plan to prevent a War on Giants? Phew!

Years ago, his family was warmly welcomed by the Seven Kingdoms.
Suddenly, it’s William’s job to remind everyone how to make friends!?

comic strip Mr. Giant's funeral
The comic that started all the trouble . . .

For ages 9 to 12

For fans of funny giant stories, like Jack: The True Story of Jack and the Beanstalk by Liesl Shurtliff. Readers of Home Sweet Motel by Chris Grabenstein and New From Here by Kelly Yang will enjoy this tale about welcoming newcomers.

Fee, Fie, Foe, FUN!

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Laurel Decher

Laurel Decher author as a kid

Reading Age:
9 to 12

A Seven Kingdoms Fairy Tale: Book 1

book recommendations for 10 year olds Seven Kingdoms book covers

Print length:

344 pages

Publication date:

March 26, 2024

Paperback, hardcover, ebook

Language: English

All the ingredients for a full-scale fairy tale fiasco!

Title graphic
meet the giants graphic with speech bubbles
the Seven Kingdoms guesses why the giants are here
William could help out with a comic and explain the whole thing

Why read Seven Kingdoms Fairy Tales?

“Life in the Seven Kingdoms is never dull . . .” –Jen McConnel, School Library Journal

If you’re looking for kids books that ignite curiosity, you’ve come to the right place! These exciting children’s books are about exploring life’s possibilities and finding the magic hidden inside each of us.

In the Seven Kingdoms Fairy Tales, royal kids take on magical challenges that are difficult but worthwhile. When you’re on an extraordinary adventure, it’s funny how an ordinary thing can help. These smart and friendly heroes and heroines speak up, (and hatch dragons), take tests, (and defeat the Blackfly queen), deal with less than perfect scores, (and cupids), find their way around, (and get lost), stay friends even when they disagree, (and struggle with fairy godparents) and find a way to belong in a new place.

For ages 9 to 12. Read the books in any order.

Whether it’s speaking up at a feast, reading a compass or taking a test in a strange kingdom, these Tales are all about discovering the magic in your life!

What Readers Say:

“Kids will love every quirky thing about it!”
–Kristi Wientge
author, KARMA KHULLAR’S MUSTACHE​
“I love the premise of hiding in plain sight. The concept that a kid could go through childhood – and life – without feeling they are being heard or seen is such an important topic . . . I know a lot of kids will be drawn to this!”
–Halli Gomez
contributing author, BRAVE NEW GIRLS: TALES OF HEROINES WHO HACK
“Emotionally engaging. I feel much sympathy for [the nameless princess], yet at the same time her parents and all their inadequacies are so endearing.”
–Michelle Leonard
contributing author, BRAVE NEW GIRLS: STORIES OF GIRLS WHO SCIENCE AND SCHEME, Young Adult (Sci-Fi Anthology for ages 12+)

You're Invited to the Party!

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From the AI narrated audiobook. Produced with GooglePlay technology and edited by the author.

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Chapter 1: A Delayed Party

Deepen the Learning, Add to the Fun!

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Get into the spirit of fun!

When the going gets tough, the tough turn to comics??! You’ll never forget this battle to welcome everyone!

Get a Quiz For Your School or Library!

Get quizzes for each of the Seven Kingdoms Fairy Tales, formatted as a ready-to-upload teacher quiz for AR.

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Giant Trouble: The Mystery of the Magic Beans is available in hardcover with jacket, ebook, and paperback.

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Giant Trouble: The Mystery of the Magic Beans

Giant Trouble: The Mystery of the Magic Beans is available in hardcover with jacket, ebook, and paperback.

Copyright © 2022 Laurel Decher

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise without permission in writing from the publisher, except by reviewers, who may quote brief passages in a review. Thank you for respecting this author’s hard work.

ISBN 978-3-949220-00-5 (Hardcover Edition)

ISBN 978-3-949220-01-2 (Paperback Edition)

ISBN 978-3-949220-02-9 (ebook Edition)

ISBN 978-3-949220-12-8 (AI audiobook Edition)

Cover illustrations and interior ornaments by Ira Olenina, Dusan Pavlic, Asmati Chibalashvili (Creative icon styles), and Olya Kamieshkova. Licensed from Shutterstock.com. Jordyn Alison Designs (Love Struck Font).

In memory of Susan X. Graham

CONTENTS

  1. The Oath 1

  2. M.E.R.C.Y. For Magellan 8

  3. A Long Week 15

  4. Hunting For Magellan 26

  5. The Pet Parent 42

  6. Vlad’s Fairy Godmother 52

  7. In Twyla’s Workshop 62

  8. A Visit from the Thursdays For Thinking 72

  9. The Fairy Double Cross 81

  10. Vlad, the Ultimate Ruler 91

  11. Fairy Court 101

  12. Your Membership Has Expired 112

  13. Former Friends 123

  14. Zetta, Master Builder 132

  15. Fairy House Vacation 142

  16. Ice Cream On Tour 153

  17. Unwelcome News 164

  18. The High Court 171

  19. Express Delivery 183

  20. Starry Night 189

CHAPTER ONE

The Oath

scene separator RULE

NOW THAT THE royal Saffron twins didn’t have their dragon anymore, eleven-year-old Crown Prince Vlad of the Magenta Kingdom didn’t see them much. They had gotten to know each other a little better, because of the dragon. But now the twins couldn’t fly over for the afternoon, or they were busy with serious preparations for their future life

It wasn’t that Vlad had nothing to do. Or that he didn’t have any friends.

Vlad saw Crown Princess Saffy at the Thursdays for Thinking meetings once a month. All the future crowns of the Seven Kingdoms—Prince Vlad, Prince Nero, Prince Indy, Prince Harold, Prince William, and Princess Saffy—met together to strengthen the friendships between the kingdoms spread out along the Rhine and Mosel Rivers. It was a kind of friendship, but the meetings usually ended up being more work than fun. Saffy came up with most of it. She had some top-secret connection with the Fairy Kingdom, so maybe that had something to do with it.

Thursdays for Thinking was okay. Sometimes they needed to know about a law or a rule in the Seven Kingdoms and Vlad would fill them in. He was glad to help with stuff like that. His fairy godparent gift made it easy.

Saffy’s twin brother, Prince Magellan, came over to the Magenta Kingdom almost every day, but he went straight to the Mapmakers Guild, only waving to Vlad if they ran across each other on the parade grounds. Magellan had his future mapped out.

Vlad was supposed to follow in his father’s footsteps one day. One of these years, he would get some practice in the king’s High Court. Whenever he asked King Pink about it, the king said, “That time will come soon enough.” Vlad had stopped asking, but he hadn’t stopped wondering.

“I feel like my life is on hold,” he told his sister, Princess Tacey.

“That’s because everything comes easy to you,” she said.

It was true that his fairy godparent gift made it easy to put all the laws of the Seven Kingdoms into his head. That didn’t mean it was easy to get the right law out when he needed it. It meant lots of mental filing. In a way, it was worse than cleaning his room, because he didn’t know where things should go, which laws belonged together. King Pink said that only experience could teach him that. But Tacey wasn’t wrong.

Memorizing all those laws in the normal way would have kept Vlad from boredom. He wouldn’t have had time to be lonely.

scene separator RULE

 On the first day of March, King Pink unlocked a door that Prince Vlad had never noticed before. An unnoticed door wasn’t surprising. The Magenta Fortress was star-shaped. Its sweeping wings covered the whole flat top of the cliff overlooking the city of Koblenz. The royal Magenta family had a lifetime of castle to explore.

“What’s in there?” Vlad asked his father.

King Pink pushed the door open and waved Vlad inside. “See for yourself.”

The room was too dim to see much. Vlad promptly clocked his shin on a low bench. “Ouch.”

The king lit a candle and pushed it onto a wall sconce, then went to the far wall and opened the shutters. Three rows of long low benches faced a carved judge’s bench in front of the windows.

Vlad felt his way to the side aisle and went up to inspect it. He ran his fingers over the carved letters in the seal. M.E.R.C.Y. “What is this place?”

“The Magenta Educational Royal Court for Youth,” King Pink said, from behind the carved bench. “A judge can never start too early, learning to be fair.” His voice was muffled and there were sounds of rummaging.

Vlad went around to see what he was doing. The back side of the judge’s bench was full of cubbies of all different sizes. The first row were full of quills, an old ping pong ball, a deck of cards, and the familiar Magenta Kingdom Book of Law. Vlad had spent many hours reading his father’s copy. His heart picked up. A court for youth. A law book. That felt like a chance to be a judge for real. He glanced around at the dusty benches and wondered if anyone would come into court if he was the judge.

“There it is.” King Pink stood up and unrolled a scroll on the bench. “Read it.”

Vlad held the scroll down and read the thick black heading aloud:

Judge’s Oath

“Go on,” King Pink said, smiling. “You have to take the oath before you can start.”

Vlad didn’t see how this could be real, but he didn’t ask. If this was a game or a joke, he was willing to let the king laugh. It was worth the risk.

“I, Vlad, Crown Prince of the Magenta Kingdom, and Judge of the Magenta Educational Royal Court for Youth, do solemnly swear . . .

to uphold the laws of the Seven Kingdoms and the Magenta Kingdom

to listen carefully and thoughtfully to all who come before my bench

to show mercy, and, as much as it is in my power,

to give justice for all.”

By the end of the oath, Vlad was sweating. Every line pressed down on his shoulders. He couldn’t do this.

King Pink rummaged in the cubbies again and brought out a bottle of ink and a quill. “Here, add your name.”

Then Vlad noticed the handwriting of all the others who had signed before him. Their handwriting wasn’t any better than his. “Were you eleven when you signed?”

“Sure was. That’s the rule.” King Pink smiled again and got down on one knee to reach into a cubby on the other side.

A rule. Taking a deep breath, Vlad added his own name with a shaking hand. His jitters were ridiculous, because the dusty courtroom was empty and had been for a very long time. He might never get a case to hear. “So how does anyone come into this court if no one knows about it?”

“Once the court is open, we’ll put an announcement in the Proclamation. Some people show up unannounced, and other people send carrier pigeons asking for a court date.” King Pink pushed an armful of black cloth at Vlad. “Here.”

Stunned by the thought of an announcement in the Proclamation, Vlad took the cloth without looking. “What’s this?”

“It’s your robe,” King Pink said. “Put it on for size. You might want to check the buttons.”

Vlad stuck his arms through the huge sleeves. “Why isn’t it Magenta?”

“Magenta is for the High Court.” King Pink tugged the robe straight and clapped Vlad on the shoulder. “Perfect fit.”

The sleeves covered Vlad’s fingers. He shook them back, so he could use his hands. He would have shortened the sleeves and named the court F.A.I.R. It could stand for “For All 1 Rule”. It was peppy. All for One and One for all, isn’t that what the Three Musketeers said? The number instead of the word made it cooler for the math-loving Magenta family. Actually, keeping this for the family could be fun.

It was the thought of people coming from all over the Seven Kingdoms that made Vlad’s mouth go dry. He sat down on the chair behind the bench. The chair arms came around him like a cage. Maybe that kept the judge from falling out of the chair.

King Pink wasn’t finished. He handed Vlad a pair of dark goggles. “You’ll need these. Try them on and I’ll adjust them for you.”

Vlad was so nervous, he actually giggled. It was embarrassing. This had to be a joke. It wasn’t April, so it wasn’t April Fool’s Day, but King Pink was definitely up to something silly. Goggles were for the pilots in the Royal Aeronautical Academy. The Magenta Fortress housed the Academy. Maybe King Pink had picked up an extra pair. Vlad pulled the goggles over his head and let King Pink adjust the strap.

It was pitch dark.

“Can’t see a thing.” Vlad reached to pull the goggles off, but King Pink stopped him.

“Blind Justice takes some getting used to,” King Pink said, taking his hands away. “Just sit here a while.” The king’s shoes tapped a dignified rhythm on the stone floor, then fell silent on the thick carpet. The heavy door scraped shut. Vlad listened to the silence.

This was definitely some kind of surprise. At any moment, his little brother, Hectare, would burst in and announce it. His sisters, Tacey, Milli, and Zetta, might even bring a birthday cake. Except it wasn’t Vlad’s birthday.

PROCLAMATION

Magenta Educational Royal Court for Youth now open!

Crown Prince Vlad of the Magenta Kingdom has been sworn in as judge for the Magenta Educational Royal Court for Youth (M.E.R.C.Y.) M.E.R.C.Y. trains young Magenta royals for their future responsibilities and allows young royals and subjects of the Seven Kingdoms to be tried by their peers. The Court has been closed since King Pink graduated to the Seven Kingdoms High Court.

The M.E.R.C.Y. is looking for good listeners to serve on the jury with seven non-royal members.

To schedule an appointment for Judge Vlad to hear your case, or to apply for jury duty, please send a carrier pigeon to the Magenta Kingdom. Attention: M.E.R.C.Y. All defendants, prosecutors, and jury members must be under the age of 12.

CHAPTER TWO

M.E.R.C.Y. for Magellan

scene separator RULE

TO: PRINCE VLAD of the Magenta Kingdom, Judge of the M.E.R.C.Y.

FROM: Captain, The Pirate Queen

I would like to file an official complaint against Prince Magellan of the Saffron Kingdom. He was smuggling baby dragons into the Seven Kingdoms on my barge. I don’t know where he’s getting them from, but we’re not waiting until they grow up. The last one ate way too much coal, then burned it off by throwing flames everywhere. I’ve sent a message to the Association of Barge Captains and we’re on the watch. You’ve been warned.

scene separator RULE

The day after the Proclamation came out, eleven-year-old “Judge” Vlad took his place behind the wooden judge’s bench in the newly re-opened court.

His first case.

Prince Magellan of the Saffron Kingdom seemed to be taking the court seriously. He stood at attention in his full Saffron Kingdom regalia. Sketchbook and pencils weren’t visible. He actually bowed to Vlad even though they’d both been in the same classroom last year. In return, Vlad saluted with his trademark silver ruler.

The only off thing about Magellan’s appearance was the bright green and illegal baby dragon perched on his shoulder. Vlad couldn’t believe it. He had expected the usual kinds of cases for kids. Pin-the-tail-on-the-dragon, archery, butter churning, rubber ducky races . . . whatever the Seven Kingdoms came up with that needed a contest judge, Vlad had done them all. He’d memorized so many rules and laws that his friends called him “the ultimate ruler”.

While he waited for Magellan’s explanation, he counted up rules Magellan might have broken.

  1. Hatching a magical creature in the Seven Kingdoms. There was a treaty with the Fairy Kingdom that didn’t allow that.

  2. Crossing the top-secret Border into the Fairy Kingdom to steal a dragon egg. That broke at least one more treaty between the Seven Kingdoms and the Fairy Kingdom, maybe two. The Border location was secret, and no one from the Seven Kingdoms was supposed to cross over into the Fairy Kingdom. Not to mention that stealing from the fairies was just plain dumb. They were fairies! Who knew what they might do? Vlad really hoped Magellan had found this baby dragon somewhere else.

  3. Even ignoring the Fairy Kingdom treaty, Magellan was in trouble. The Seven Kingdoms had passed a new law last year because of Magellan’s last dragon. No dragons in the Seven Kingdoms. The law was supposed to protect barge captains and their cargo from dragon attack on the Rhine and Mosel Rivers.

Aside from the laws, rules, and treaties, how had Magellan gotten away with this? His twin sister, the Crown Princess of Saffron Kingdom, had some top-secret connection to the Fairy Kingdom. She would never have let him get away with this.

“How did this happen?” Vlad drew a question mark in the air with his silver ruler.

“We got a speeding ticket?” Magellan suggested.

Vlad withered Magellan with a look. That dragon was way too small for Magellan to fly; dragons didn’t get speeding tickets; and the M.E.R.C.Y. didn’t handle speeding tickets, because kids under twelve didn’t drive, fly, or captain anything that could speed. Three strikes. Vlad switched to the basics. “Where did you get that baby dragon?”

“He’s been following me ever since he hatched.” Magellan’s hand stroked the bright orange comb that ran down the dragon’s back.

Vlad’s eyes narrowed. “Where did he hatch?”

Magellan’s mouth moved, but nothing came out. He wiped his mouth on his sleeve. “I can’t say.”

“Does it eat coal?” Vlad figured he knew the answer to that, but it was worth asking.

“He, not it. I don’t know,” Magellan said.

“What does he eat?” Vlad asked.

“I don’t know.”

Magellan was playing dumb or lying. Vlad gave him a chance to come clean. “What have you been giving it to eat?”

“Nothing,” Magellan said. “Nothing at all.”

That was enough for Vlad. He whacked his ruler on the bench. “Bailiff, take the dragon into custody.”

Vlad’s littlest sister, the five-year-old Princess Zetta, was serving as court bailiff. None of Vlad’s other siblings had wanted the job. Zetta walked up to Magellan and called the baby creature, “Come on, little one!”

The green and orange dragon hopped off Magellan’s shoulder into Princess Zetta’s waiting hands.

“Hey!” Magellan said. “You can’t take Crk.”

Zetta ran the rest of the way to the bench and hid behind Vlad.

Magellan glowered. “You think you’re so smart, because you know all the rules. But Crk belongs to me. No rule can change that. Come here, Crk!”

The baby dragon struggled in Zetta’s arms, but she held it fast.

“Crk! Crk!” the dragon called.

Magellan ran up and scooped the baby dragon back out of her arms, then jogged backwards to the door. The baby dragon climbed up onto Magellan’s shoulder and stretched its small wings.

Zetta’s lip quivered and she held out her hand to Vlad. A deep red scratch was on her arm. Vlad couldn’t stand it. What made Magellan think he was above the rules? And to treat Zetta like that! She was only five years old and thought Magellan was the moon.

Magellan didn’t even know how to feed the baby dragon. The Fairy Kingdom would never go along with letting a magical creature starve. The Council for the Protection of Magical Creatures would be here in a heartbeat.

“It looks okay, Zetta,” Vlad said. “Magellan, if you don’t want me to charge you with attacking my bailiff, you’d better apologize.”

“Did you get scratched, Zetta?” Magellan asked, with an aside to Vlad. “It’s your fault if she did.”

Zetta shook her head without turning to look at Magellan.

Vlad gave Magellan his sternest look. “You can’t keep Crk. We just took care of the last dragon you couldn’t feed. The barge captains will picket the Seven Kingdoms and we’ll be flooded with ambassadors from the surrounding countries.”

“You don’t understand,” Magellan said. “I have to keep Crk. There has to be something you can feed a dragon if you start young enough.”

Vlad thought Magellan said something like “I can’t let Crk get hatched again” but that made no sense. Vlad must have misheard him. He wished Magellan would be reasonable. “Send Crk back to the Fairy Kingdom. They know exactly what to do with a dragon chick.”

Magellan shuddered. “I know exactly what to do with a dragon chick.”

Vlad was losing respect for him. Magellan had battled with multiplication and won. He wasn’t stupid. Why was he being stubborn? “You know how many letters the Seven Kingdoms got from barge captains. I was there when the Saffron—”

“Don’t say it,” Magellan was almost growling now. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Vlad sighed. “What would you say if I asked you to make a map with North pointing the wrong way?”

“Why would you want a map that was wrong?” Magellan said, momentarily distracted.

“I can’t bend the rules for you.” Vlad held up his inflexible silver ruler. “We have treaties between the Seven Kingdoms and the countries where the barge captains come from. The treaties keep the Seven Kingdoms safe. Trying to bend a law tied to a treaty is like forcing a compass to point the wrong way.”

“Oh.” Magellan cupped his hands around the baby dragon.

Vlad put on the Blind Justice goggles to give his decision. This time, the goggles weren’t black. Vlad clearly saw the baby dragon. It had wrapped its tail around and covered its head. It seemed to be smiling in its sleep. And healthy. Maybe Vlad could give Magellan a little time to think this over.

“I’ll make a deal with you,” Vlad said. “How long can a baby dragon survive without food? 24 hours? 48 hours?”

“A week? I don’t know.” Magellan sounded worried, then his face appeared in Vlad’s goggles. Magellan’s growling expression was gone, and his eyes were glued onto the baby dragon.

“Does Saffy know?” Vlad asked. Magellan’s twin sister cured every kind of creature. She must know.

“Maybe?” Magellan still hadn’t looked up from his baby dragon.

The dragon looked pretty perky for a creature who hadn’t been eating. Vlad figured Magellan had to be feeding Crk coal and wasn’t willing to face facts. On the other hand, a tiny dragon like that couldn’t eat enough coal for a barge captain to notice. Vlad rummaged in the cubbies and pulled out a scale. “Let’s weigh Crk.”

“Huh?” Magellan held the dragon to his chest.

“Set Crk in the pan and we’ll see what he weighs.” Vlad held the pan steady and Magellan set the dragon in it, holding his hands around the dragon without touching the scale. Vlad dropped small metal weights in opposite pan 10 grams at a time until the scale balanced. “10, 20, 30, 40, 60, 70, 80, 90, 100, 110, 120, 130, 140, 150. 150 grams.”

Magellan snatched the dragon back out of the scale.

Vlad held back a sigh. “I’m not kidnapping your dragon. How about this? You weigh the dragon every day. If Crk drops below 150 grams, show up here right away. If not, you can have until Friday to show up with a way to feed Crk—without coal.”

Magellan’s face was grim. “I guess I don’t have a choice.”

Vlad was glad he’d finally figured that out. “You have a scale, right?”

Magellan grunted.

“The court is adjourned.” Vlad smacked his ruler on the bench. He, his bailiff Zetta, and Magellan—still holding the baby dragon—went out of the courtroom.

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Giant Trouble: The Mystery of the Magic Beans

Giant Trouble: The Mystery of the Magic Beans is available in hardcover with jacket, ebook, and paperback.

Copyright © 2024 Laurel Decher

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise without permission in writing from the publisher, except by reviewers, who may quote brief passages in a review. Thank you for respecting this author’s hard work.

ISBN 978-3-949220-16-6 (Hardcover Edition)

ISBN 978-3-949220-17-3 (Paperback Edition)

ISBN 978-3-949220-18-0 (ebook Edition)

Cover illustration by Yuliyanna Isayeva.

Interior illustrations by the author.

To all those who welcome strangers!

Your hospitality makes the world a better place.

CONTENTS

  1. Comics to the Death? 1

  2. Giant Earthquake 11

  3. Ace Reporter Bridget On Duty 22

  4. The Law On Giants 32

  5. Family Meeting 41

  6. Jack the Giant Killer 50

  7. Pigeon Family 58

  8. Out-Of-Town Visitors 65

  9. Cooking Demo 73

  10. The Giants Decide to Help 81

  11. The Ultimate Friendship Food 91

  12. Construction Plans 101

  13. Giant Discrimination 106

  14. Emergency Bell 115

  15. Quality Time Without Socks 123

  16. Food is Running Out 129

  17. Don’t Let Them Make a Nest 140

  18. Ambassador or Spy? 149

  19. The Harp That Sings 155

  20. Giant Misunderstanding 162

  21. Eclairs for Lunch 168

  22. Dungeon Visitors 176

  23. I’ll Be Right Here 183

  24. You’re Not an Outsider 189

  25. You Have to Make Comics 199

  26. Wanted: Jack the Giant Killer 210

  27. Unpopular Opinions 216

  28. Mr. Giant Doesn’t Spill the Beans 226

  29. All That Jazz 234

  30. Giant Kidnapping 242

  31. Giant Fashion 248

  32. Terrible Bean Puns 258

  33. Operation Chapati 266

  34. Trouble at the Compost Pile 275

  35. Stop, Thief! 284

  36. Battle of the Beanstalk 291

  37. Timber! 299

  38. Giant Grief 306

Epilogue 318

CHAPTER ONE

Comics to the Death?

*WILLIAM*

EARLY ONE MORNING, eleven-year-old Prince William of Marigold was chopping onions for the royal family’s restaurant. The patio next to the kitchen building was the best place for so many onions, and today he had company.

Mr. G, technically Mr. Giant, always introduced himself as “the biggest parsnip farmer in the Seven Kingdoms,” followed by a laugh like a summer thunderstorm rolling in.

While William chopped, Mr. G heaved tree trunks into place for a new pergola over the patio, to make shade for the outdoor diners. The queen was going to plant tropical vines and hang kerosene lamps on the new pavilion.

“I want it to be exotic,” she’d said. For her, sticking out was fun. She’d been born in the Seven Kingdoms. “Like a trip to India . . .”

William didn’t want to be exotic. Normally, Mr. G worked at his big farm in Cochem Kingdom, where he produced vegetables for most of the Seven Kingdoms. He usually came by once a week to deliver vegetables for the Royal Marigold Restaurant. The building project was a favor.

The onions were fresh from Mr. G’s vegetable farm.

Cooked, they were tasty, but raw?

“These could make an army weep.” William wiped his eyes on his sleeve.

“The stronger they are, the sweeter they are,” Mr. G said, slamming another post neatly into the ground. “Just like me.” He chuckled again.

Mr. G grunted and heaved a huge tree trunk into a deep hole. The giant’s shovelful of dirt flew over his shoulder and landed on the other side of the Elf Brook.

How did it feel to be that strong?

William didn’t ask. It was too much like how-does-it-feel-to-be-a-giant. Too much like how-does-it-feel-to-be-from-India.

Instead, William asked, “You know something? I wish we had ‘Speech or Die’ here.”

“Why the death wish?” Mr. G heaved another post into the new hole. “Onions getting to you?”

“Speech or Die” was Cochem Kingdom’s secret weapon for winning the InterKingdom Speech Tournament. Mr. G had told William about the funny speeches people gave. The Marigold Kingdom didn’t have anything like it.

William spoke his thought aloud, “What if we did ‘Speech or Die’ with comics?”

“Comics to the Death!” Mr. G said, in his deepest, mountain-shaking voice, then ruined it with a belly-shaking chuckle. Swinging a massive mallet, he pounded the tree trunk into the ground. In a high, squeaky voice, he said, “I’m dying for a new comic.” His deep chuckle rumbled again.

“You’re the only one who thinks they’re worth dying for,” William blinked his watery eyes. The breeze on the patio was no match for this pile of stinky onions. “But seriously, my family’s not from here. Nobody here gets my jokes. Look at this—” William wiped his hands, dug a carrier pigeon message from the Seven Kingdoms Proclamation out of his pocket, and handed it to the giant.

Mr. G squinted at the message. “How’s a giant supposed to read such tiny print? A pelican would be much better than a shrimpy carrier pigeon. Now there’s a roomy beak.”

William snorted and made a mental note to add a pelican delivery bird to a comic strip. He wiped his hands on his clean apron, took the message from Mr. G, and read aloud:

FROM: Editor-in-chief, Proclamation Office

TO: Jack, Somewhere in the Marigold Kingdom

Dear Jack,

Please stop sending your comic strips. We don’t pay you for advertising. You pay us.

Also, your comic strips are boring. People sit around eating, and nothing ever happens! We’re also wondering how you are getting your hands on royal pigeons from the Marigold Kingdom. Is your name really “Jack”? We don’t know anyone by that name in the Marigold royal family.

Editor-in-Chief

Seven Kingdoms Proclamation

P.S. If you have to send us stuff, please include a self-addressed carrier pigeon. Our office is getting full.

“First of all, I like your comic strips. Second of all, I’m a Proclamation reader. And third of all, that’s just plain nasty,” Mr. G said. “Is that why you didn’t give them your real name?”

William shrugged. “I didn’t want them to take the comic strips because I’m a Crown Prince.”

“Oh.” Mr. G nodded. “You want to do it the hard way.”

William frowned. He was thinking about how to get some carrier pigeons from another dovecote.

“What did you send them?” Mr. G asked.

“How to Make Friends With Chapati.”

“But I like that one!” Mr. G was indignant.

Actually, William had sent two, but Mr. G didn’t need to see the other one.

“What’s wrong with the Proclamation?” Mr. G pounded a tree trunk into the ground. “Haven’t they ever had chapati?”

“Nope.” Because chapati aren’t from here. That was why William’s comics were never going to catch on in the Seven Kingdoms. Mr. G got them, but he wasn’t from here either.

“I have to see that one again.” Mr. G picked up William’s sketchbook. “Do you mind?”

“One sec—” William did mind, but his hands were full of onions.

“Got some secrets in here, William?” Mr. G chuckled. “I won’t tell anybody.”

By the time William had wiped his hands on a clean kitchen towel, Mr. G had found the page with the chapati comic. “Every time I look at this, I get hungry.”

comic strip about chapati with friends from Giant Trouble

Then, before William could stop him, he flipped the page and gave a shout of laughter. “Did you send this one too?”

comic strip Mr. Giant's funeral

“I was kinda mad.” William’s face flamed. That was the comic Mr. G wasn’t supposed to see.

“I guess.” Mr. G’s big nose quivered, and he tip-toed to William’s other side, ridiculous in his giant boots. “I’ll try to stay on the cook’s good side.”

William’s mouth twisted. “Not funny.” The Royal Marigold Restaurant didn’t joke about food poisoning.

Mr. G snorted. “You’re the one who put my funeral in a comic strip.” He dug another hole for the pavilion, then put down his shovel. “They rejected that one too?”

William shrugged. “No answer means no.”

“What more do they want? I mean, I died in that one.” Mr. G dropped a tree trunk into the new hole. “When did you send it?”

“A couple months ago,” William said.

“Been wanting to bump me off for so long,” Mr. G mused, shaking his head in mock sadness. The shaking spread to his huge torso, then his low chuckles built up to a bright crack of laughter.

That was the laugh that kept William drawing comic strips, even on the darkest three-rejections-from-the-Proclamation days.

Pumping one huge fist in the air, Mr. G shouted, “Comic or die!”

William was never going to hear the end of this.

A few moments later, when Mr. G had finally recovered from his laugh attack, he leaned on his shovel. “Maybe Bridget knows what’s going on with your Proclamation problem.”

“Ace Reporter Bridget?” William asked. He’d seen her around Cochem Castle. She was about his age, but she didn’t go to school with the royal family. “You know her?”

“Of course,” Mr. G said. “She’s in the Vintner’s Ventriloquism League with me. I’ll tell her to bring all those Proclamation people over to ‘Speech or Die’. That’ll straighten them out.” His deep rumble rattled the restaurant windows.

“Speech or Die” seemed like a bloodthirsty place to learn manners, but William let it go. Good thing Mr. G had a different sense of humor. Not everyone could laugh about their own funeral. William let out a breath he’d forgotten about.

Then he had another depressing thought. If Bridget was the one telling the Proclamation to turn down his comic strips, he was sunk. Bridget knew what people liked here. A few years ago, she’d given the winning speech at the InterKingdom Speech Tournament.

Her speech was awesome.

The crowd had thrown flowers and stomped their feet until the ground shook.

If Bridget thought people wouldn’t like William’s comics, they wouldn’t. He groaned.

After a moment, Mr. G gestured at the onions with his elbow. “Why so many?”

“Dry eye therapy,” William quipped.

“You can stop with the crying now.” Mr. G heaved a tree trunk into a vertical position. “I’m not dead.”

“Glad to hear it.” William blinked his watery eyes against the overpowering scent and scraped the onions off the chopping board into a huge bowl. “I’m covering the restaurant today.”

Mr. G dropped the post in the hole, dusted his hands, and gave William a mock salute. “The Marigold Kingdom needs their Crown Prince to do his duty.”

William returned a half-hearted salute and went on chopping vegetables for the soup. His family had other ideas about his duty. The truth was, he needed more time to work on his comics without a lot of people around. His friends and family knew he drew comics, but—until a moment ago—his “Jack” comics had been a secret. They were going to be big: epic adventures with oversized heroes. Everywhere William went, he’d see strangers reading them.

“Where are the king and queen today?” Mr. G asked.

William was glad to switch to a safer subject. “They went over to the Welcome Café. Again.”

“Didn’t feel like welcoming anyone today?” Mr. G said, too lightly.

“Welcome to the Royal Marigold,” William said, in his best head-waiter manner. “Where would you like to sit?”

“Thanks very much,” Mr. G said with a dainty head bow, falling into the game right away. “I’d like to try your best table by the window for once.”

For once?

William’s head snapped back. The restaurant’s dining room hadn’t ever felt like a touchy subject before.

Still in waiter mode, William tried to pass it off. “So sorry, sir, that table isn’t available.”

With an airy wave of his huge hand, Mr. G said, “I’ll stay out here then.” He turned his back and dug a hole for the next post. It was silly, but William felt like he’d shut the giant out of the restaurant.

Mr. G didn’t need to be welcomed. He’d lived in the Seven Kingdoms forever, much longer than William’s family, and everybody loved the giant.

Unlike William, he hadn’t had to bribe kids with fresh chapati to be his friends. Mr. G sold people vegetables. Vegetables were definitely not a bribe.

Here, cry over these onions and be my friend. Burn your eyes with these hot peppers and we’ll be blood brothers.

Right.

“You know,” Mr. G said, “I’ll take you to ‘Speech or Die’ any time you want. Just say the word.”

Touched, William said, “When they start doing comics, I’ll be right over.”

“Draw a comic in six minutes or die?” Mr. G said. “That sounds terrifying. If that ever happens, you’re on my team. Don’t forget.” He jabbed a finger at William and stomped around the post, leaving deep boot prints in the mud.

A perfect comic strip frame popped into William’s head. Whenever Mr. G was around, William got new ideas. Probably because the giant’s actions were superhero-sized. Today was no different. William suddenly saw the pavilion as it would be when it was finished, but his mind kept on drawing.

A woman in a silk sari carries a tray of fresh chapati out into the jungle. Up above, a jaguar lies in wait . . . Can the giant save her? Or the chapati?

The was jungle vivid in his mind. William wiped his eyes on his sleeve, pivoted the chopping board, and let his knife fly through the chopped onions again. Rat-a-tat-a-rat-a-tat-a-tat. Done.

As soon as William figured out how, he would set up a table for Mr. G next to the biggest restaurant window.

William laid down his knife and picked up the board full of onions. “Got to get the soup started. Want anything else? Chapati?”

Mr. G said, “Only if there’s an extra. I don’t really need one.”

William grinned. No one could resist the restaurant’s chapati. The round flatbreads puffed up like a balloon on the griddle when they were almost ready, and the warm, slightly smoky scent was irresistible—the ultimate friendship-making food. How could the Proclamation resist his comic strips about them?

After his family had moved to the Seven Kingdoms, William hadn’t known anyone in his new school. The other kingdoms had their own schools, but King Monsoon had sent William to school in Cochem Kingdom. “I don’t want you to be outsiders.”

William hadn’t seen the point, but his father was the king, and William was a Crown Prince. End of story.

The huge Cochem royal family was overwhelming. All fifteen of the royal Cochem children stared at his lunch and his bright orange clothes and said nothing.

After weeks of awkwardness, William had offered a fresh chapati to the youngest princess, the one they used to call “Fifteenth”. She’d shared it with one of her fifteen siblings and suddenly William had friends.

Chapati magic.

These days, he had friends all around the Seven Kingdoms. But remembering those first days still made the hair on his arms stand up.

CHAPTER TWO

Giant Earthquake

*WILLIAM*

LATER THAT SAME day, when the lunch rush had slowed, Mr. G ordered a bowl of soup and another basket of chapati. He’d made himself a place to eat on top of a pavilion post. All eight posts were in place now—sawn off at roof height. When Queen Studentenblume came home, she could start planting her jungle.

William brought out a sunflower in a vase, a small tablecloth, folded like a napkin, and the large serving spoon that Mr. G got whenever he visited the restaurant.

“Can I hand this up to you?” William held the tray above his head.

“Nice flower”—Mr. G set the vase on the cut surface of the tree trunk—“And this table has the best view.” He laughed, but a twinge of guilt caught William in the neck. Usually, the royal family perched Mr. G’s dishes on some castle ledge, and the giant stood on the slope to eat. He’d never complained.

That was officially over. The giant still didn’t have a chair, but from now on, he would have a table.

“Careful, it’s hot!” William handed up the soup tureen that served as Mr. G’s bowl, and the picnic basket that held one giant-sized serving of chapati.

Mr. G took the basket of chapati, and his eyes lit up. “This is what I’ve been waiting for.”

William wished him “Guten Appetit!” and seated some new customers at the patio tables. William was in the restaurant kitchen, filling a people-sized basket with chapati, when an incredible thud shook the castle, like a thousand-year-old tree hitting the ground.

William dropped the chapati into his deep apron pocket and ran outside.

Knocking over dishes and chairs, the other customers fled the patio. They shouted, “Earthquake! It’s an earthquake!”

Abandoned soup, melting chocolate ice cream, and dark purple grape juice flowed over the edges of tables and onto the stone patio.

“I want a new ice cream,” wailed a little girl.

From underneath the aerial stone bridge that connected the Marigold Castle with the outside world, a customer snapped his fingers at William. “Waiter! Bring me my bill!”

“Me too!” said someone else. “I don’t want to wait around here all day.”

“I’ll be right there, sir,” William called over, then added a quiet “As soon as I find out what’s going on.” Breaking into a run, he dodged the debris on the patio.

Then stopped short. A pair of boots lay sideways on the ground, the deep, waffle-stomper tread facing the patio. Mr. G was no longer standing at his “table”. Had he taken off his boots and gone wading in the Elf Brook?

The soup tureen lay smashed in a puddle on the patio, surrounded by soggy chapati. The picnic basket teetered upside down, on its woven handle. Something was very wrong.

But when William reached the massive boots, Mr. G’s feet were still in them.

The giant lay full-length on his back as if he’d pushed himself over backwards. William hurried down the slope to Mr. G’s head. The Elf Brook was washing his hair with icy cold water, but Mr. G’s eyes were closed.

“Mr. G? Are you okay?” William tried the giant’s first name. “Reggie?”

No answer.

Kneeling at the giant’s head, William tried to figure out what had happened.

Had he burned himself on the hot soup?

His elbows, deeply wedged into the hillside, had kept him from sliding into the river. His legs stretched up to the patio, and his work pants were a terrible purple color at the knees.

Was that . . . blood?

Wait—purple! William gave Mr. G’s knees a second look. Grape juice! Don’t panic. Using Mr. G’s arm to help, William pulled himself up carefully and pressed his ear to the giant’s chest.

Thump. Thump.

A long pause, then thumpity, thump.

Another long pause.

Thump. Thump.

Mr. G wasn’t dead. But his heartbeat sounded like it might lose its place, or stop. William let out a shaky breath and mopped his sweaty hair out of his face. What now? His first aid course hadn’t covered giants. And they didn’t have a giant-sized Heart Starter.

He slid down Mr. G’s arm, then ran up the hill to the castle to sound the emergency bell.

Mr. G’s a regular. We should get a giant-sized Heart Starter for him. I’m going to tell the king and queen when they get home.

As William ran over the aerial bridge to the guardroom, he called down to the customers huddled below. “It’s not an earthquake, it’s Mr. G.”

A little girl’s voice floated up. “Do giants make earthquakes, mommy?”

“Yes, Samantha.”

“I don’t like giants,” Samantha said. “They ruin everything.”

The whole group started talking about how much trouble a giant could cause. Nobody said that Mr. G belonged here. It was weird.

William didn’t have time to set them straight. This couldn’t be happening. Mr. G had been perfectly healthy when he came into the restaurant. He’d laughed at William’s newest comic strip, like always. Half-way across the bridge, William’s face burned like fire, then went cold.

The last comic strip had been the one about Mr. G’s funeral.

Nooo. A comic strip is not a fortune cookie. This cannot happen to Mr. G.

William took off running, feverishly re-drawing a new ending to the comic strip in his head. He had to get Mr. G to the hospital before it was too late. Puffing with exertion, he pushed himself harder.

The Marigold Castle was built on the top of a steep hill, on top of a solid rock foundation. Double steepness. The Elf Brook looped around the hill, cutting it off from the forest. That was why the castle had an aerial bridge. But Mr. G was far below the bridge and the Elf was much too shallow to carry a boat big enough to carry him.

Eventually, the Elf joined the Mosel River, which was deep enough to carry barges. A barge on the Mosel River would be perfect. Once Mr. G was on a barge, they could get him to the Magenta Kingdom, where there was a hospital. They’d take care of Mr. G, and he would be okay. William hoped.

His job was ringing the emergency bell.

The medics would handle how to get Mr. G there.

At last, William got to the castle bell tower and leapt for the bell rope. With every pull on the rough rope, he went through the soup ingredients in his head, one by one.

Onions, garlic, celery, carrots, beans—the beans had come from Mr. Giant’s farm, so they couldn’t be the problem—potatoes, and all the spices they always put in. William had made it all fresh this morning. He’d made the spicy soup hundreds of times with his family.

Mr. G had never mentioned any allergies. Other customers sometimes asked for something to “put out the fire”. But Mr. G never did.

The whole thing was a mystery. The broken tureen, the flying chapati picnic basket, the sudden fall. What had happened?

At the rumbling of the medic wagon over castle’s stone bridge, William let go of the bell rope, and ran out of the castle.

“It’s Mr. G,” he called out to the medics. “He was eating some soup. I was in the restaurant kitchen, and there was a crash like an earthquake. When I came out, he’d fallen over.” A shiver ran down William’s back. He wrenched his body straight.

All those jokes about death and dying this morning! This was like a bad dream from his own comic strip. He wished he’d never drawn it, never shown it to Mr. G, never sent it to the Proclamation. William’s only comfort was that the Proclamation would never print it.

“Don’t panic, sir.” The wagon driver pulled up his oxen and jumped down. “We’re here to help!”

But when the medic saw Mr. G, he climbed back into the wagon. “You called us for a giant? We’re not equipped for giants. False alarm, guys, let’s go!”

“You can’t leave—wait!” When the wagon started to move, William pulled a chapati out of his apron pocket and offered it to the nearest ox. It immediately planted its feet, and nibbled delicately at the chapati edges. The medic called to the oxen, but the wagon stayed put.

“It’s serious,” William said. “Mr. G has to get to the hospital right away.”

“Okay, let’s be realistic,” the medic said, with a long-suffering sigh. “You see the wagon”—he waved at his wagon—“and the giant”—he waved at Mr. G. “Now, what’s wrong with this picture?”

The medic looked William in the eyes. “Your giant is too big.”

“Actually, your wagon is too small,” William said.

The medic shrugged.

It’s the Heart Starter problem all over again.

William silently ran through his options. No dragon was available, the rowboat would be too small, and William’s parents and siblings were gone. They’d taken the royal coach to the Welcome Café, but it would have been too small too. This was comical and not at all funny.

“So how is a giant supposed to get to the hospital?” William asked.

The medic shrugged. “Try the hospital in the Giant Mountains. Try a carrier pigeon. I don’t know. It’s not my problem. And stop feeding my oxen.”

Yes, it is your problem, William thought, but how can I make you see it?

“Oh, sorry.” William acted like he hadn’t noticed the oxen nibbling and handed out more chapati to the medic’s team. “Would you like one, sir?”

The medic frowned, but he took one and bit into it. And pulled up his oxen again. “This is good.”

William offered him another one.

“You have these every day?” the medic asked.

“Yes, sir,” William said. That was beside the point. He wasn’t giving away chapati to advertise the Royal Marigold Restaurant. “Would you mind taking a look at Mr. G?”

The medic didn’t answer for a long moment, then exhaled long and loud, and hopped down from the wagon. “I’m here, anyway. Might as well.”

After the medic climbed up on Mr. G’s face, he lifted the giant’s eyelids and peered in. “Looks okay to me.”

He climbed down to Mr. G’s chest and used the wrong size stethoscope to listen to his heart, then climbed back down onto the ground.

“How is he?” William asked.

“He should go to the hospital,” the medic admitted. “But don’t look at me—I can’t take him.”

“I think I have an idea,” William said. He’d been thinking about barrels. “Let me grab my sketchbook from the kitchen—come in if you want more chapati—and I’ll show you.”

Even with bribes of more chapati, the medic didn’t want to go along with William’s plan to transport Mr. G. He’d gotten ten barrels up from the storeroom to use as giant rollers.

“But what do we do when he rolls off the end of the barrels?” the medic asked.

“Some of us will roll the barrels to the front again, under his feet,” William said, pointing to his diagram.

“That’s never going to work,” the medic said.

“We have to try,” William urged. Then he drew them discount coupons for the restaurant, offered them free chapati on their birthdays, and promised to help with the barrels.

Finally, they gave in. After that, everything was a blur of barrels, slipping around in the mud, and trying not to lose Mr. G off the end before the next barrel was in place to catch him.

When they actually got Mr. G down to the riverbank, the only barge captain who stopped didn’t want Mr. G to flatten his coal cargo.

That was the way it went, the whole afternoon. Everyone they met was having an off-day. William had to speak up for Mr. G for every little thing.

William was shivering by the time they got to the place called the Seam, where the brown waters of the Rhine River joined with the blue waters of the Mosel River. He asked the barge captain for blankets for Mr. G, but the barge captain gave him a few old burlap sacks instead.

“I don’t want to wash all the blankets afterwards,” the captain said. “We don’t have time for that mountain of laundry.”

After that remark, William didn’t feel the cold, because he was too steamed up. But he was even more worried about Mr. G.

The giant still hadn’t woken up. William pressed an ear to the giant’s side and the mighty heartbeat thumped unevenly, like a ball that forgot every third bounce.

In some fairy tales, giants fell asleep and turned into mountain ranges, only to wake up a hundred years later. William wouldn’t be around in a hundred years. Did that mean he’d never hear Mr. G laugh again? William’s jaw twitched, and he had to clear his throat.

At the Magenta Kingdom dock, William had another problem: getting Mr. G off the barge. The dock was at the base of a cliff and the Magenta Fortress—and the Royal Aeronautical Academy Hospital—were on top. By the time William ran up and down the hundreds of steps, the barge captain was counting the seconds.

“This isn’t a giant taxi service.” The captain drummed his fingers on the ship’s rail.

William drew up a coupon for a free dinner with dessert at the Royal Marigold Restaurant and offered it to the captain with a polite bow. “Thank you very much for your help. We couldn’t have gotten Mr. Giant here without you.”

“That’s something, anyway.” The captain took the coupon and ordered his crew to cast off.

Fortunately, the Royal Aeronautical Academy students thought that heaving a giant up the cliff in a net made of ropes was an excellent way to spend the afternoon. This was the Seven Kingdoms William knew and loved. People helped each other whenever they could.

But the hospital went back to the same old story.

“We don’t have that kind of room.” The hospital clerk at the front desk coughed behind her hand. “Try the one in the Giant Mountains. They’re set up for oversized patients.”

She thinks this is funny?

William tried again. “I can’t get him to the Giant Mountains. Besides, he lives in the Seven Kingdoms. Doesn’t the hospital get veggies from Mr. Giant’s farm?”

The admitting clerk shrugged. “The problem is he’s not a regular-sized patient. I told you already, we don’t have giant beds. The doctors can’t see him.”

“Can’t the doctors come outside?” William asked, taking out his sketchbook, so he could show her what he meant. “Look—Mr. G’s already lying on the parade grounds. He fits. He just needs warm blankets and some way to keep the rain off his face.” As William sketched, he thought of another idea. “I’m sure the Magenta royal family would loan their pavilion to the hospital for a few days.” William added it.

The hospital clerk’s eyebrows went up, and she folded her hands. “I’m not asking to borrow the royal pavilion for one stray giant.” She wouldn’t budge.

“Fine, I’ll go ask them,” William said. He couldn’t believe the hospital wouldn’t do this for Mr. G.

“And he’s not a stray giant!” William tossed the words over his shoulder on his way to the royal family’s apartments.

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