A few days later plans started to be made for The Princess, in her official capacities as a Saintess, High Priestess, and a Princess to begin a national tour, and after much begging and pleading it was agreed Elvira would be joining them on the tour, for the official reason “cause I said so, you wanna argue?” So the servants were dashing all over the place preparing.

Mibbet meanwhile had her own plans, and had ordered a board that fit the gap between the seats, and a massive pile of cushions, including one giant cushion to make the carriage ride bearable. There was no way she was sitting down when she could lie down, and no way she was travelling halfway across the bloody kingdom with a carriage driver who seemed to consider hitting every pothole along the way at the best speed he could reach as a point of pride.

She also issued a command to the local carriage maker that translated into something along the lines of “get rid of this fancy crap and make it comfy as hell, my royal butt has suffered quite enough just because the snobs have a stick up theirs,” in posheese.

Then in the true manner of those completely detached from reality she threw money at the problems that arose until they ceased to be problems.

The end result of this was a cushioned carriage that got rid of the dead weight of gilding, and replaced it with fold down tables, a bed, and some kind of complex spring mechanism that suspended the problem of potholes in a manner that was shocking. The entire setup was of course beautifully painted but looked so unlike the traditional nobles carriage it caused a fair few murmurs amongst the assembled gawkers.

Strangely some of them were talking about how humble it looked, and how it must be a manifestation of the humble nature of the Saintess.

“Humble nature my froggy butt” Mibbet grumbled to herself under her breath. “I just think the more useless fancy stuff they add to the bloody things the more they bounce about, and the more I suffer for their bloody vanity. Bugger that for a game of soldiers.”

Meanwhile thanks to the money thrown at Wayne Wright, the wonky wagon fixer and carriage maker extraordinaire under the orders “don’t put useless shiny crud on it, don’t make it big and heavy, make it comfy,” He had taken the opportunity to as they say in the trade, go nuts. This thing had heat gems under the seating, slime glass windows which would help in case of arrows. The sides were padded in iron grizzly hide, which (well clue’s in the name,) was somewhat resistant to attack. It had shocks, and the drivers area even had a little cover (since every bandit knows to aim for the guy at the reins first, as do the guys who make a living holding the reins, which is why good carriage drivers are hard to find.)

Because he had been given free rein in making it he had slapped on every useful gimmick he could come up with that customers normally refused in favour of more shiny shit. It seemed that all nobles carriages tried to out perform each other on that front. So poor innocent carriages were gilty by association.

************************************************************************

Meanwhile Red Robe was at it again, since Bach had failed his mission so spectacularly he had gone to the assassins of the dark guild specifically, and hired one Edward Unter. (Ed to his friends, or at least he would be if he hadn’t killed them all off years ago, then for some reason he couldn’t fathom, had great difficulty making new ones.)

Looking at Ed he didn’t seem like much, he looked like a retired office worker you could bump into in the local shops. He even had a perfectly ordinary looking pocketbook, if you ignored the tally pattern on the cover, or the lettering on the spine which simply read vol VI.

“I understand you are the best in the business.” Red Robe said nervously, pouring Ed a drink.

Ed of course ignored the drink, the same lesson that is taught to toddlers is also the basic rule for any assassin who wishes to remain a live assassin for long. Don’t take treats from people. Of course in the assassins case the additional rule applies, swipe a sample, and if it turns out to be poison kill the bastard.

“Some people would say that, some people didn’t, now what’s the job.”

“The Saintess will soon be heading towards the town of Podunk in her official capacities. It would be most unfortunate if she was to meet with highwaymen would it not?”

Ed winced, highwaymen meant outsourcing. Course he could recoup the cost by killing them all later and reclaim what he paid, it didn’t pay to leave witnesses anyway. That way things got all prophetic, and he didn’t hold much truck with such things. “Yes indeed it would be unfortunate if such an expensive accident were to transpire.” He replied barely getting the words out before a fairly substantial bag of coin landed on the table, he remained silent until the first bag’s sibling joined the party.

“Understood” Ed said before unfurling a document “Just sign here and here, and here.”

Red robe recoiled as if bitten by a snake, there is nothing shady organisations hate more than a paper trail.

“Don’t worry, the paperwork incinerates as soon as it’s completed, no copies are made, customer confidentiality is important to us.”

“so why have the paperwork at all?”

“We are no amateurs” Replied Ed, each word colder than the one before. Red Robe may be an evil cult leader who deals with demons regularly, but this guy really gave him the creeps. “We follow proper procedure, where would we be if people went round killing each other unsanctioned? That way lies chaos. So you can sign the document, or go find yourself some amateurs."

After a moments hesitation Red Robe signed. Just getting his fingers out of the way before spontaneous documentary combustion.