Three. Could I run for it? What would that do?
Ben was still evaluating option number three when Grumpy spoke up. “If I may interrupt,” Grumpy said, looking the exact opposite of, well, Merry, who sat next to him. “As you know, for twenty years we dwarfs have worked the mines, gathering jewels and diamonds for the kingdom’s crowns and scepters, for many a prince and princess in need of wedding gifts or coronation attire.” Ben turned even redder, looking at the polished gold buttons on his own shirt. Grumpy glared at him pointedly, then continued. “And for twenty years we have been paid zilch for our efforts.”
“Now, now, Mr. Grumpy,” said Ben. “Sir.”
“It’s just Grumpy,” huffed Grumpy.
Ben looked at the mice. “May I?”
“Be my guest,” said Gus, hopping down.
Ben pulled the Auradon law book free from beneath the mice, sending a few rodents rolling. He turned to a chart in the appendices at the back of the thick book. “Okay, then, Grumpy, as a citizen of Auradon, it looks like you and the rest of the dwarfs have been granted two-month vacations…twenty holidays…and unlimited sick days.” He looked up. “Does that sound right?”
“More or less,” Doc said. Grumpy folded his arms with another glare.
Ben looked relieved, closing the book. “So you can’t say you’ve been working for exactly twenty years, can you?”
“The math is beside the point, young man—or should I call you, young beast?” Grumpy shouted from behind Doc, who was doing his best to shove his own stocking cap into Grumpy’s mouth.
“Prince Ben will do,” Ben said, with a thin smile. No wonder the dwarf was called Grumpy; Ben had never met such a cantankerous person!
“If I can interject, and I don’t mean to offend, but we’re a bit tired of being without a voice and without a contract.” Bashful spoke up. At least, Ben thought that was his name, if only from how red he turned as he spoke.
“You’re here now, aren’t you? I don’t believe you can call that being ‘without a voice,’ can you?” Ben smiled again. Two for two. Boom. Maybe I’m better at this king stuff than I thought.
“But what will happen to our families when we retire?” Bashful asked, not looking convinced.
“I’m sure my father has a plan to take care of everyone,” Ben said, hoping it was true.
A voice squeaked up from the table. Ben leaned forward to listen. “And has anyone noticed that we sidekicks do all the work in this kingdom? Since the Fairy Godmother frowns on magic, we mice make all the dresses!” Mary said indignantly. The little mouse had climbed back up on the law book to make herself heard. “By paw!”
“That’s very—” Ben began, but he was cut off. He was no longer in charge of the room. That much was clear.
“Not to mention the woodland creatures who do all the housekeeping for Snow White,” added Jaq. “They aren’t too happy about it, either.”
Mary nodded. “Plus, Snow White needs a whole new wardrobe as she’s reporting on the Coronation soon! Your coronation, I might add!”
Ben searched desperately through the papers in front of him. “Every citizen has the right to file—to file a—”
“I still collect everything for Ariel,” burbled Flounder. “Her treasures have grown, but what do I have to show for any of it?”
Ben tried again. “You have the knowledge that what you do is a very much appreciated—”
Flounder kept going. “And the mermaids give undersea tours all year round without taking a penny. Even in the busy season!”
Ariel’s sisters nodded indignantly, their shimmering tails splashing water all over the table from the bathtub. Cogsworth slapped a hand over his eyes, while Lumiere squeezed his arm in support.
Ben nodded. “Well, that is certainly something worth further consid—”
“And if I might add, living without magic has taken a toll on our nerves,” sighed Merryweather. “Flora can’t sew, Fauna can’t bake, and I can’t clean without our wands. You’ll find our petition at the end there, dear boy.” Flora shoved it into Prince Ben’s face, and he sat back in his chair, surprised.
Fauna chimed in. “While we appreciate all that the Fairy Godmother has done, we can’t see why just a little magic might not be useful?”
“But is there really any such thing as a little—” Ben began.
Pongo sat up. “And not to sound weary, but Perdy and I are a bit fatigued after caring for one hundred and one Dalmatians,” said Pongo in that rich, elegant voice of his.
“If only there were one hundred and one hours in the day.” Perdy yawned. “I could at least sleep for five of them. Imagine that.”
Mary the mouse nodded sympathetically, patting Perdy’s paw with her own.
A blur of blue appeared in Ben’s face. “To put it bluntly, Prince Ben, this blows,” said Genie, who blew him a mocking kiss.