After all that fuss, and Errol’s spectacular tantrum they were finally passing through the miles and miles of fields surrounding the village of Woodglen. Of course there hadn’t actually been much of a woods there for many years owing to the need to have a tree free area to farm in. However due to local beliefs every field held a grove, and every grove was linked by a forested path, it wouldn’t do to piss off mother nature too much after all.

Errol was looking around excitedly, pointing out such landmarks as “Oh that’s where Billy farted so loud he spooked the whole flock” or “we used to catch newts there.” You know? Sites of local interest, before finally pointing to a house in the distance (it had to be a house, it was far too big for a cabin, and much too shack like for a mansion, despite putting in a valiant effort on that front on scale, and quite likely age.)

“Every kid added on their own room when they got big enough, and our family have been around a while. But we never could afford a proper builder,” Errol explained.

“But some bits of that house have 6 or seven rooms,”

“what can I say, we’re a big family.”

Mibbet politely refrained from pointing out that probably the lack of activity all the way out here was a contributing factor on that front, she was finally starting to get the hang of what not to say and when not to say it.

They got a bit closer to the bouse when suddenly Errol was ambushed by a tiny blue be- ribboned blur.

“Frightface,” the newcomer shouted, in a voice at a pitch that would give many dogs nightmares.

“Gremlin” Errol laughed, picking up the figure, that now she was no longer moving at velocities normally associated with crossbow bolts was clearly a little girl.

“Drill curls, greets Errol enthusiastically, your little sister Mary I presume?” Rosalind asked.

“Wait you call your little sister a GREMLIN?” Elvira asked a little confused.

“What else do you call a little saboteur?” Errol asked with a chortle, “She once managed to get Ike using red and green food colouring in the shower, he wouldn’t go in again for weeks. Swore up and down that the bathroom was haunted.”

Elvira promptly pulled out a notebook and wrote that one down, Mary meanwhile pulled her to one side and started to suggest ratios for a proper blood colour, Mibbet did not like the look of that. The last thing either of them needed was more ideas.

Rascal of course after a disapproving grumble about the high pitched squeaky thing he had a feeling he would be told off if he tried to eat settled back down to resume his nap uninterrupted. Mary looked to be plotting something for a few moments until Errol pointed out that a regular cat had a temper, and this one could light stuff on fire. Mary backed off, you don’t prank the ones capable of that level of mayhem, it just makes it harder to recruit them to your side later.

As they approached it was hard not to notice the woman hauling half a tree behind her, while clutching an axe in the other hand. True that by itself tended to catch the eye, but it was safe to say that Errol’s mother was a stout woman. (You would not wish to use less flattering words because 1. that would be mean, 2. Stout fit the bill completely, and any other words would seem inadequate in comparison, and 3. if Errol’s mum heard you using less flattering words she had an axe, and judging by the massive trunk laying on the ground that she was pulling along she definitely knew how to use it, and 4. she was hot. A fact Rosalind vowed to never state in earshot of Errol on the grounds that traumatising your guards via normal means was much kinder than doing it by pointing out their parent was a major hottie, oh and of course the evidence of a rather large family heavily implied she was inclined towards the male of the species. Then of course there was Mibbet who was rapidly trying to purge all of Rosalind’s thought processes on the sexiness of a human being as quickly as possible on the grounds that as a frog they were just creepy.)

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Amelia had just finished a long day logging, and was dragging the firewood home when an unfamiliar carriage came along the way, that was strange, they didn’t usually get the types of people who rode carriages round here, and the winged horses were definitely outside of the norm in a village where an ox cart was the height of luxury.

Then she recognised the armour, (it would have been a challenge to recognise the son within said armour owing to the fact he barely showed up around it,) but that was definitely Errol. She took off at a run, grabbing him in a hug that made the metal creak, then realised what was going on. Errol was a royal guard, royal guard plus carriage could only mean a few things, and somehow she doubted that her sun had eloped with a Princess. Which meant that he had dragged an entire royal convoy here, just wait till she got him... oh that’s right she HAD got him home, she quickly tucked him under one arm and sprinted off.

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From the cottage came a scream, and the sound of profuse apologies, Mibbet blinked, what the hopping puddles had just happened?

“Ummm do we just wait here? Go over and introduce ourselves? Find a place to park the wagon or what?” Mibbet asked. Royal etiquette classes were sorely lacking on the subject of what to do when your guard is kidnapped by their parental unit and being held hostage under threat of embarrassing stories.

“What we do for now” said Mary with her best villainess grin (she was rather good at those) is let him squirm, and see if we can hear any blackmail material for later.