After much debate, a little discussion, a lot of humming and hawing, and more Honourable Ladies and Right Honourable gentlemen (Nobody explained to Mibbet, no matter how much she asked why ladies couldn’t be right honourable, but instead had to settle for plain old honourable.) The decision was reached to convene a council immediately after. (At the thought of yet more meetings Mibbet eyed the window longingly, with the same desperation as a wolf with its leg in a trap, but DIY amputation of the toothy variety really wouldn’t work here.) “Besides” Rosalind commented drily, “they’d just wheel you back in and you’d be less able to run from the next one.”

That made sense to Mibbet, who resigned herself to her fate (because she wasn’t allowed to resign to escape it mostly.)

As the half zombified members of parliament (given the age of the average MP it would not surprise her in the least if that description was completely accurate,) shambled out of the hall King Ethelred pulled Prime Minister Strike to one side.

“Told you, now pay up”.

With a groan the prime minister dug deep into his personal coffers (not to be confused with the parliamentary coffers no matter what certain members of parliament may tell you.) Reluctantly handing over the winnings. (Extremely reluctantly, it was a running joke in the kingdom that copper wire was first invented by him and the finance minister fighting over a penny.) But a bet was a bet, and he had lost fair and square. He really hated to lose too, far too little practice.

So in a supreme act of pettiness he turned to Ethelred. “Your daughter showed real skill in there, she should sit in on the council too.” He was stuck sitting in on this meeting, and out of pocket to boot. He sure as hell wasn’t going to suffer alone.

Despite her misfortune Mibbet was happy to attend this meeting (especially when the word coffee was mentioned, that particular perk really perked her up.) She took a seat as close to the door as possible, she wanted the option to flee even if there was no way she could possibly take it without more drama. Just then a maid quickly poured her a cup of the divine brew, and the meeting began.

Once long ago humans had decided they needed a way to do not a lot by seeming to do lots. They had had a meeting to discuss it, and then when that meeting stalled they called in more people and did it all over again. By the time the fourth such meeting had passed. Which consisted mostly of people grumbling about how nothing useful at all had happened in the previous three.) Somebody finally thought of those beautiful billable hours, and the devil himself grinned in glee, as the ultimate evil, the committee, was born.

Somehow despite this council convening years after that ill fated meeting , and in defiance of all logistics, this meeting was proving to be the grand daddy of all committee meets.

So far they had agreed the type of ginger snaps to bring to the next meeting (a highly controversial issue apparently, leading to 20 minutes of debate on the alternative options, with each member determined their particular brand of biscuit, cookie, macaroon, and even *gasp* meringue, was a hill they were ready, willing, able, and even determined to die on. Before a brave soul dared suggest the ultimate solution, to the shock of all assembled, a selection tin.)Then they decided that the previous meetings recorder had not kept accurate records, and nominated multiple candidates, and held an election for the new recorder. After some heated discussion on the fact that at least one member wasn’t there, so it wasn’t a real and binding vote, they’d have to come back to it later.

Mibbet meanwhile was considering the gnawability of her limbs, and eyeing the exit with a deep longing usually reserved for lead characters in romance novels to cast at the biggest jerk in the room. She desperately swigged her coffee, only to taste the greatest betrayal mankind had ever devised. “decaf” Rosalind grumbled, as somewhere deep inside Mibbets froggy brain something went SNAP.

“That hopping does it” she roared. “How many different ways can you think of to do nothing about a DROUGHT? You have a literal emergency, and here you are dithering over the flavour of biscuits, and who writes what down? So let’s make this simple, I’m chairing this meeting, want to argue? Fine, first puddle-spawner to try to debate it will need surgery to remove said chair from a place I’m fairly sure you’ve all been polishing benches with for the past few decades.”

Mrs Beaton of course rose to object, only to be met with a full powered glare of froggy fury that would make librarians reconsider their tactics, and heavily suggested she knew their full name (yes even the middle one) and would not hesitate to use it. So for the first time in her life Mrs Beaton found herself.... defeated, and sat down with Nary a grumble.

Next came Mr Mustard, a retired Colonel who had quite a thing for Mrs Beaton (and definitely for her cooking, and to be fair Mrs Beatons cream puffs were magnificent.) He rose to his feet, summoning all the harrumph, hmph, and all round blowhardery he was able to invoke, and prepared his best attack.

“Now see here my good woman.”

Mibbet didn’t even need to tackle that one, instead she unleashed the full power of a weaponized Rosalind.

“Oh begging your pardon sir, I was quite aware I was a good woman, but last time I checked I was not yours, was not betrothed or bonded to you, and most importantly was not and never will be the property of any man no matter what he may have to say to the contrary. Now sit down and be silent unless you are lending your particular expertise to the field of civic engineering, architecture, irrigation, hell even offering sacrifices to the great rain god Wannashowa would be more productive than what you just wasted hours of my life doing, and given that I just made him up that’s saying something. now SOMEBODY GET SOME REAL GODSDAMNED COFFEE IN HERE, OFFER ME DECAF AGAIN AND I’LL PUT YOU 6 FEET IN THE GROUNDS.”

After that silence had fallen, and could not get up. Rosalind took a deep breath and passed the reins back to Mibbet. It was time to see what she could do.