Soon enough it was time to move along, and Mibbet had to admit that she would be glad to be on the road again. Frogs are not typically speaking a migratory species, but nor was Mibbet technically speaking all frog. She had grown to love the open road, and was more than happy to hit it again.

Errol meanwhile was a unique combination of excited and terrified, the next leg of the journey would bring them to his hometown. A place he had promised his mum he would stay for a few days if he ever got the chance, he really wasn’t sure she meant even if it involved dragging a royal along, but he couldn’t take that chance.

He broke out in a cold sweat over the terror he would soon unleash upon the world in that case. There was no way Mary would miss a chance to prank A Princess, and he was bringing two along. This is what experts call a target rich environment. But by the same token if Mary tried to prank The Princess? There was no way in hell The Princess would not counter, and this folks is what they call a disaster in the making.

So now he had a dilemma, keeping his promise to his mum, or avoiding a full on prank war on a scale unimagined by mortal minds. Then of course there was the other perspective, the mischievous side of Errol really wanted to see what would actually happen, and as such egged him on. Survival instinct and common sense on the other hand screamed at him that that particular idea was about as good a plan as poking Alba with a stick, or waking Rosalind up while wearing a clown mask and a hat covered in rubber spiders.

The war waged on for quite a time, but in the end filial piety won out, and with a sigh Errol realised he was doomed either way, and would really rather not have his mum of all people mad at him. The worst The Princess could do was execute him, his mum on the other hand, well she had the ancient weapon of mothers everywhere. The look followed by a disappointed sigh.

As every kid who has ever had a parent (or guardian for that matter) knows the sigh is a weapon of social control on a scale that had it not come from a mother would have been banned by several international treaties. Legend had it that the cannibal killer Dean Tawny had once been subjected to the sigh, and had instantly burst into tears and surrendered himself without a fight. It may have surprised Errol to know that an attempt had once been made to ban it via treaty, and it had failed mainly because every signatory had a mum whether biological or adoptive too, and they were as susceptible to it as everybody else.

Suddenly the carriage jerked to a stop at a fallen log, and atop it stood several masked individuals who did not look like they had Errol’s, or anybodies but their own best interests at heart. Errol meanwhile was relieved, a chance to de stress.

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Richard Turnip was a fairly well known bandit around these parts, in part because of his thieving ways, in part because of his tendency to avoid the gentleman thief routine like the plague. Not that he didn’t hit on the people he robbed of course, but because he had once attended a seminar on something called “negative attention” which he was completely convinced was the way to a woman’s heart.

He met up with a bunch of others who shared his theories in his travels, and soon had a small gathering of terrible, TERRIBLE human beings at his beck and call.

“Well well well, this looks like it could be rich pickings boys, and look at that brat there, he’s still wet behind the ears.”

Apparently though Richard still had some kind of a semblance of a brain in there somewhere, as he noticed the veteran guard and the construct took a step back. That and the little brat in all fitting armour was smiling.

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Sir Leeroy had noticed a little while ago that Errol did not seem to be quite himself today. He seemed less cheery than usual, as if something was weighing on him.

Of course there wasn’t a lot he could do about it on the road, as he didn’t think travel chess would do the trick. Errol, while smart was not the kind who liked to let on that he was, in fact he was the kind to believe himself rather dense despite all evidence to the contrary, and accompany anything that disproved his personal assessment with cognitive dissonance on an unprecedented scale, he needed to blow off some steam. Then at last an opportunity came.

Sir Leeroy had of course spotted the ambush coming a bit back, but had refrained from doing the usual routine of running on ahead to clean up the impending mess. Instead he’d deliberately blundered into it, and unleashed his young apprentice while Addy went ahead and removed the impromptu barricade.

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Richard had still been figuring out what was going on when the brat BLURRED,suddenly reappearing in the midst of the group swinging what looked like a human tibia dunked in metal, what the hell was even going on here?

He tried to rally his men, but the sudden introduction of a maniacal murderous munchkin into the group had kind of caused chaos, Richard watched on in horror as the battle (if you could call a one sided beat-down a battle,) continued. He winced at the creative placement of several kicks, this guy was a guard? Weren’t guards supposed to be all chivalrous and stuff? Apparently not, and Richard was pretty sure that Nicks arm wasn’t supposed to bend that way. In the absence of any other plan Richard started to tiptoe off, only to be stopped by a hand on his shoulder. He turned back to be greeted by an eerie grin, then DONK.