All worries for the future were forgotten as Bubbles destroyed several courses during a welcome banquet in her honour. She belched even louder than the king himself at the end of the third course which brought titters of amusement from the ladies hidden behind fans and applause from the monocled gentlemen sat elsewhere at the large table once they saw their monarch had approved the thing.
One tall uniformed individual even stood, raised his glass above a frighteningly scarred visage that was his very own badge of bravery and toasted the redhead in resoundingly complimentary words.
"Sit you down, Vonrigg, sit you down, you old fool," the king said indulgently. He rapped the table with a spoon once the other had resumed his seat, which broke, the spoon that is not the seat, so the king used a fork to continue rapping until everyone fell silent and looked at him expectantly.
Bubbles had gone purple by this time for another belch was brewing and she really wanted to let it loose. Rappy tickled her wickedly so that just when the ruler of a mighty land was about to make an important speech he was interrupted by a sudden expulsion of air and nasal fluid all at once.
"I like cake," Bubbles said firmly in the confused silence which followed, wiping her nose and nodding at everyone as if all problems in the universe had been solved just then and the right thing to do now was to forgive a poor girl her sins.
"Ho, Bubbles of House Bannatyne," the king said and the girl stood, thinking she had to when addressed directly by a monarch. "Sit you down, girl, sit you down. I was merely calling you names," he corrected her forthwith. "We," he finally began his intended speech in earnest, "that is me-"
"I," the queen corrected the royal grammar.
"You?"
"No, you. Carry on with your speech, Exalted One, lest you be mistaken for a Slow Person," the queen suggested archly and the man muttered and grumbled and shook his plump self a moment before resuming as requested.
"In light of this visit from a respected member of one of the great houses of Frangea, is that the place?" he leaned to a pointy-bearded individual on his left who blinked frog-like eyes when addressed.
"Indeed it is Exalted One. They have beaches there and beach balls," he said to show his knowledge of distant lands to which he had never travelled nor intended to. "Of course they cannot compare with the balls we have."
"Well, hum, where was I?" Zolid the Third resumed, fat fingers toying with a left over trifle a moment so that he was obliged to keep everyone waiting again as he licked each pudgy digit clean. "Ah yes. In honour of this strange girl's visit I have decided to come out of retirement and have one last wild fling before I die. There. Said it."
This pronouncement created uproar in the hall where the banquet was being held. Ladies swooned, men saluted their monarch and threw gloves about and Bubbles wolfed down a slice of chocolate cake some distracted courtier had foolishly neglected. She belched a third time without being noticed and in all the confusion was made a member of the royal guard by a general and two majors. They even triple signed a commission to prove it.
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What all this boiled down to was the fact King Zolid the Third rather enjoyed the little trip to the rugged east lands of his realm to greet his daughter's return. He had forgotten in all the days he had remained cooped up in the royal palace in the capital of Xenia, furiously knitting the remainder of his life away on doctor's orders, just how beautiful the land was. The Cake Lounge next to the most tilted flitter port in the world, was a grand location for making the announcment of his intention to pursue one last royal progress, show himself to the people, and see if he could avoid being assassinated. Thus he charged his head of security, the sinister Baron Vonrigg, master of the death spiders, purveyor of random executions and celebrated collector of fluffy eagle trophies, to draw up an outrageous itinerary.
"Make sure you leave in all the interesting bits," the king had insisted in council. "If we have to cut our way through renegade tribes, fleece poor widows of their summer fare and flood populous valleys so the royal progress can take to the water now and again so be it. Death spiders, Vonrigg, death spiders. Guaranteed to get the job done."
His daughter however seemed less excited by the prospect of her father suddenly deciding on travelling again.
"We must do our very best to see he gets through the ordeal safely," she said to her mother with loving concern.
"Do not expect me to try and talk him out of it," the queen confessed. "It is an opportunity of a lifetime for the wardrobe mistress to dispose of all those wonky socks littering the palace in Crysiar. One even had nine toes. However did he manage to knit that?" she sighed, shaking her head.
Of course Bubbles could only watch on as various officials scurried about making plans and arrangements for the intended progress. Arry the spider watched too from her shoulder and every now and then jumped off to chase a harried maid along a corridor if she wandered too close to his mistress. Guards saluted her in passing or presented arms with a shudder of limbs and then appear not a little alarmed when a small dark thing scurried after her as she explored the Cake Lounge's other rooms and hallways.
House Saxotiern was in a meeting on how best to get the head of the family to the first location in Vonrigg's itinerary, the Frozen Folly, while Bubbles wandered about. The princess soon found her targeting certain court officials with snowballs from various ramparts as they passed in the courtyards below for the Cake Lounge was of course as much a baronial castle as a lounging spot for the rich and idle.
"I see you are settling into the spirit of Xenia," Rappy said pleasantly as Bubbles tagged the frog-eyed man from a concealed vantage point while he was out stretching his legs so she could enjoy his perplexity to the fullest. "That is the High Chancellor," she added, "the most powerful leader of the Lords in Council and chief adviser to the king my father."
"He's rubbish at dodging projectiles," Bubbles said, unmoved by her victim's distinguished position. She was no respecter of rank or gender, for she next launched a snowball at the elaborate headdress of a bustling woman known as the Mother of the Maids, a court matron of sorts. This one screamed and Bubbles laughed before sneezing as one of her furry protectors shifted its position by crawling across her face.
"I am to show you to our rooms, for the royal progress will start tomorrow morning at break of day," the princess said.
"Our rooms?"
"Of course, we shall share just like at school, bringing Dorm Flare in part to Xenia," and she led the way along the rampart towards a great round tower to the sound of salutes from a row of guards by the wall who moments before had been secretly watching the effects of Bubbles's attacks down below with barely concealed mirth behind their military whiskers.