Mibbet was immensely confused (a sensation she had grown increasingly familiar with since the whole transformation rigmarole had begun. Seriously how the hell did any human survive to adulthood without being eaten, blown up, transformed, cursed, or otherwise placed in an untenable situation? Then again maybe they didn’t it didn’t strike her that humans were the most stable of species, by now they probably just viewed everything that happened, no matter how bizarre, with an eye-roll and a muttered: “must be Tuesday.”)

She thought hard on the situation, and so far get humans into debt, summon devils, humans disappear, PROFIT, it struck her that maybe a few sections were missing from the equation, and it was up to her to fill in the gaps, as it was painfully obvious Dave could not, as counting to ten would probably require them removing their shoes and socks.

“So what do we do now?” She muttered, thinking that maybe getting into debt with the infernally connected bank just to see what happened wasn’t the best plan. Especially not if the hard way ended up being first-hand.

“well I could try borrowing, but me mum said to never do that, and I don’t want to get her mad at you.” Errol proposed, in his view of social hierarchy went, mum, his sisters, gods, and royals, (though those two were starting to get a bit muddled for him by recent experiences.) Sir Leeroy/Sir Humphrey, nobles, then everybody else. He did not wish to pit his mother against gods or royals, nothing good lay down that road, and somehow he just knew it would end with him getting a thick lug from somebody, (he thought, on reflection, maybe a clip round the ear from a god would be the worst, they could, according to all the legends get almighty smitey.)

“That might not be too bad a plan, with a few modifications” Elvira agreed.

“Unless those modifications involve not sacrificing our loyal soldiers I’m not interested” Rosalind snapped. “As obnoxious as Errol is he is still one of us, and I would rather not explain to his family what happened, so mind telling me what you had in mind?”

“Follow somebody who leaves the bank in raggy clothes, see what happens, they’ll definitely be borrowing right? So we’ll be able to find where they get taken.”

“OK, that sounds like a plan to me” Mibbet chimed in, she hated the idea of watching to see what happened, but it wasn’t like they could just strut up to the bank and ask “hey, it looks like you’re setting up an evil conspiracy, wanna talk about it?” People go so secretive when they were destroying society for some reason. It truly did baffle her. Frog society usually consisted of finding a pond to lay spawn in then nicking off and leaving the next generation to it. (Well unless you got hungry, then you might find some froggy else's spawn spot, set up camp, and grab a snack when they were gone. Spawn camping was a time-honored froggy tradition.)Oh, there was also ducking predators, so much ducking predators, maybe being in a human chassis wasn’t so bad after all, though she really missed the flies.

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It had taken quite a while for Nick and the gang to figure out where The Princess was, partially because there was no shiny stuff tacked to their carriage. Didn’t nobles usually obsessively collect that junk? Every job he’d had that involved nobles he’d managed to scrape some expensive gold from the fixtures completely gilt-free. This time there’d not be anything to skim, cursing under his breath Nick was just glad the initial payment had been so high. (Almost suspiciously so, it’s a Princess, he was pretty sure she’d die if she broke a nail. Why was the pay so good for such a simple job? Oh well asking questions wasn’t going to get him anywhere, he signalled to the others, who perched on nearby rooftops (Belinda tottering slightly, yet somehow, by some quiet almost tap-dance style movements managing to wedge her heels in a crevice in the tiles, Nick really did wish to talk to her about appropriate attire for an assassin, but there was no way to convince her to give up pink, leopard spots, or heels, so instead he had settled for paying a cobbler, and a blacksmith to collaborate on adding a real stiletto to those heels, you did not dance with Belinda if you liked having toes.) Then waited for The Princess to emerge. If he was lucky he could sort this in a single shot.

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Sir Leeroy, of course, had figured she was being targeted, one did not get a high rank in the royal guard by being insensitive to people plotting to harm your wards. He gestured to the other guards, (well guard, and construct, but close enough,) and they started to take up positions.

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Milton did not have a guard's natural instinct, but what he did have was over two decades of surviving as a nerd in a society that valued strength. He quickly took cover in the area around the door-well, surprised to find that Dave was already in there.

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“It seems that we have company” Mibbet muttered.

Elvira did not respond to this news in a manner typical of Princess, but in all fairness, she was clearly not a damsel in distress type, she was much more likely the cause OF distress. She readied Spikey The Motivational Pike to give her targets a thoroughly DE-motivational treatment to their would-be assassins, kidnappers, demonic cultists, possessed potatoes, or whatever the hell other weirdness the universe decided to throw at them today. It was time to have some fun.

That done Mibbet grabbed Choppy, braced herself for a moment, and then stepped outside, at that moment all hell broke loose.

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Nick had something of a specialisation, and this job was perfect for him, while he waited for The Princess to emerge, he pulled a tatty-looking sack from his back, assembling a crossbow, it had cost him a lot to get a glassmaker to rig the lenses for this. Then, as The Princess emerged from the carriage, he lined up a single shot, right at her head, and fired.