NO HORSE TOWN
Soon they hit the road, Recumbent rogues resting in the roof rack of the carriage. It didn’t take long for them to reach the fields surrounding Podunk. To say the town of Podunk was a one-horse town would be to vastly overstate their equine production. The town existed merely as a travel hub. In the fields, cloudsheep drifted peacefully about. (Cloudsheep were a unique breed of sheep that came about after a very drunk wizard decided to find out what happened when you mix a sheep and an elemental. They were Podunk’s primary trade good, mainly as nobody else but the locals could manage the shear difficulty of raising them. They required all kinds of special equipment, magic shears, a brush made of elemental hair, and most importantly of all, A LADDER.)
Lately though Podunk had gained a new attraction, they were building a temple, which they had decided would put their town on the map. (They also bribed several cartographers, you know? Just to be sure.) As the princess was driven into town, there were several welcoming cheers, followed by confused glances, as they could not help but wonder why the hell the princess had a dozen bandits strapped to the Roof Rack of her carriage. (They were aware that the upper crust had odd tastes and even stranger traditions. But this one was rather eccentric even by their standards.)
Soon the carriage came to a stop in front of a recumbent crowd. Mayor Pyncher (or Penny to those select few who could stand her miserly ways long enough to reach that level of informality with her, she wasn’t much of a one for friends, as friends borrowed things,) stood to greet them.
Mibbet peered down at a woman whose clothes were, to say the least, austere. (It was hard to say the most about the frumpy grey suit, which seemed as if it was made by a designer who was given the design brief “make sheer boring in fabric form.”) She had long blonde hair tied in a proper bun (thank you very much) and looked somewhat shocked, not surprising when you consider a royal visit was the most exciting thing to happen here since the town’s founding some 250 years before. (That, by the way, includes The Stupendous Frank and his amazing farting ducks. The great grocer selling short weights scandal of 42, and the plague of rat, Podunk having insufficient populace to support multiple rodents.)
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Penny was in shock, but she had a job to do. “Mayor Pyncher greets the Princess,” Elvira, of course, always finding amusement in the socially awkward chose that moment to step out. “es” added Penny smoothly, the assembled crowd would probably be willing to swear they saw smoke from the mayor’s ears and heard grinding gears as she adjusted to the new reality of not one but two Princesses showing up for a visit.
It took a few minutes for the Mayors mind to figure out this new reality, make a note of it, tear the note up, swear a little, cry and whimper, then get a carefully handwritten memo from survival instincts, suggesting that maybe losing your head during a royal visit might just lead to losing your head during a royal visit, and wait for the alarm bells to stop ringing before finally accepting this new reality was in fact real. During which time, all anybody could do was wait while the mayor reset herself while politely ignoring the hyperventilation.
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“Ah, it seems we have additional guests; I suppose I should make the arrangements for additional rooms at our hotel. Meanwhile, Mibbet, having already taken note of the small bungalow with the sign above reading ”The Fitryte Inn”, figured out a cover.
“No need.” she replied, “We set up our carriage specifically for travel; we wouldn’t want to trouble you.”
“Oh, it’s no trouble at all, Princess”, the mayor shot back, rattling Mibbet’s excuse full broadside.
But Mibbet wasn’t sunk just yet. “My apologies, but I must insist, the carriage was a gift from my father and my own design, These bandits along the way allowed us to test the carriages defences, but I must test the carriage for comfort.”
At the mention of her father, Penny’s points were well and truly holed below the waterline. She had hoped that the princess staying at the inn would raise the status somewhat.
“Of course”, Mibbet added at Rosalind’s prompting, “we would be happy to eat at your fine inn, sadly my transportation lacks food preparation facilities, and my guards are great at their job but are certainly no chefs.”
At that, the battle was lost, and the mayor was happy to grab the offered life raft. Preparing food for the Royals would only help the town to gain a reputation (hopefully the good kind, she had to make sure this meal went perfectly, though. Giving one Princess food poisoning would be bad. Poisoning two? Well, people would assume you made a habit of it, and people who made a habit of that sort of thing usually did not have any habits for long.)
“That can be arranged”, finished the mayor. Now would you like to view the Temple?”
Mibbet merely nodded and Gestured for Penny to lead the way.
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Apparently, looking at the Temple, the mayor had decided to go all out. Then applied for additional funding from the temples of the major gods and gone all out again with the new extended budget.
“She probably realised it would bring a lot of tourists,” Rosalind chipped in.
It had an impressive stone entryway fronted by great stone pillars. (It had to have those, some things are expected of a temple hereabouts, and one of them is big pillars and useless urns, angelic-looking statues and freaky winged babies are considered a bonus.) and a gargantuan statue of a frog, looking as godly as a frog can in the foyer. (It hadn’t started off that way, of course, but you know the drill by now, and it was in all fairness a magnificently sculpted frog.)
Mibbet looked at the large pond outside forlornly for a moment before she hopped onto the big stone pad in the middle. Then all hell broke loose.