The Brotherhood of Justice and the Christmas Lantern Patrol

Every year, on the longest night of winter, the kingdom of Stonebridge held its Christmas Market and Midwinter Feast.

There were hot chestnuts, apple pies and a goat in a knitted hat that nobody would admit was theirs.

This year, the Queen gave the Brotherhood of Justice a special job.

“Lantern Patrol,” she said. “Keep everyone safe. Try not to break anything.”

She looked at Merlo when she said the last part.

Merlo looked at his boots.

Sir Cedric stood up so straight his armor squeaked. “Your Majesty, we shall not fail you.”

“It’s just walking around with lanterns,” said Grumble Ironfoot. “I could do it in my sleep.”

“You did fall asleep at the last feast,” said Flare the Dragon. “In the gravy.”

“That was ONE time.”

The market was packed.

It smelled of cinnamon and wet wool.

Four steps in, Sir Cedric stopped.

“Halt.”

On the cake stall, a row of candles was burning right beside a dry, very crunchy-looking pine garland.

And the baker was nowhere to be seen.

“Hazard number one,” said Sir Cedric gravely.

Merlo lifted his staff. “Leave it to me! A small freezing spell...”

“NO SPELLS,” said everyone.

Flare slid the candles into the middle of the table, far from the garland, with one careful claw.

“Fire is my thing,” said Flare. “Candles need space. And somebody watching them.”

So Sir Cedric stood guard until the baker came back.

CLANK. Cedric shifted his feet. CLANK.

When she came back, she blew the candles out and gave each of them a gingerbread knight.

Sir Cedric ate his feet first.

Next came the bridge.

The old stone bridge was shining like a mirror.

“Ice,” said Merlo.

“ICE!” said Grumble, in a completely different voice.

He dropped his skateboard.

“Grumble, don’t...”

Too late.

WHEEEEEE... WHUMP.

Grumble spun twice, slid the whole bridge and landed in a snowbank, boots up.

“I meant to do that,” said the snowbank.

Flare pulled him out by his belt.

Grumble tucked the skateboard under his arm. “Fine. Wheels are for dry days.”

A little boy started to run across.

“Small steps!” called Sir Cedric. “Slow feet! Hold a grown-up’s hand!”

The boy grabbed his dad’s hand, his dad grabbed the wall, and they shuffled over like two careful penguins.

“I’ll warm it up,” said Flare.

HUFFFF.

Warm dragon breath rolled over the stones. The ice melted.

Into a puddle.

A big, sloshy puddle.

Which froze again at once, even shinier than before.

“Oh,” said Flare. “That’s worse, isn’t it?”

Grumble fetched a bucket of grit from the stables, and Sir Cedric scattered it over every shiny stone while Merlo held the lantern.

Flare kept every bit of breath inside.

Crunch, crunch. Safe.

Then there were the glow ropes.

Merlo had made them himself, ropes of twinkly magic lights strung around the square.

Except one end had come loose, and it lay across the path in loops.

And loops.

And more loops.

The goat walked into them and got so tangled he looked like a present.

“Hazard number... what number are we on?” asked Sir Cedric.

“Lots,” said Grumble.

Merlo waved his staff to untangle it. His beard got caught in the spell.

Now Merlo was tangled too. And glowing pink.

It took all four of them.

Flare held Merlo still. Grumble crawled under to free the goat. Sir Cedric hung the rope high on the lamp posts, where no feet could reach it.

Merlo stayed a little bit pink. He said it was festive.

Then the feast bell rang. BONG.

Everyone rushed for the tables.

In the crush, a girl in a red hood let go of her mother’s hand to follow the goat. Suddenly her mother was gone.

Her lip wobbled.

Grumble spotted her and rolled... no, walked... over.

“When it’s this busy, stay where your grown-up can see you,” he said. “And if you lose them, stand still and find a helper. Like us. We’ve got lanterns.”

Flare held a lantern up, as high as a dragon can reach.

“MARTHA!” shouted a voice, and her mother came running.

At the feast, the Queen asked for their report.

Sir Cedric unrolled the scroll. “Hazards found: six. Hazards fixed: six. Things broken: one.”

“One?”

“My gingerbread knight,” said Cedric. “No feet.”

Flare toasted marshmallows for the whole table with tiny, careful flames. Everybody kept their sleeves back.

And Grumble fell asleep before the pudding.

Not in the gravy this time.

In the pudding.

Which, everyone agreed, was progress.