CH3. BERT AND ERN

Mibbet was very quickly learning her new body was very confusing indeed; she tried crawling towards town, but for some reason, her front legs were now a lot shorter than her back ones. Which made crawling slow, tiring, and extremely annoying. Then came the hopping. Because her front legs are so much shorter, every single leap pitched her forward, over her front legs, and face down into the mud.

Then there were the words in her head; they’d rapidly become very unamused sounding as time went on and were now screaming at her like a hungry screech owl in front of lunch.

“WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING YOU MINDLESS BUFFOON” it screeched. “I CAN’T BELIEVE MY BEAUTIFUL BODY IS BEING CONTROLLED BY A STUPID BLOODY AMPHIBIAN.” Soon though, like a rather low stamina hurricane, it started to wear itself out and settled for planting image after image of humans walking into her brain. Mibbet was somewhat confused by the relevance of walking like a two legs, though. She was a frog and had never really been of the bipedal persuasion.

Then again, she was at this point out of options, so she planted those 2 ridiculous, unwebbed feet on the ground, and with careful precision and a tremendous effort to ignore the passive-aggressive screechy voice sighing in her head, started to straighten up, taking her front leg....... oh apparently they were called arms, off the ground. Lasting a full twenty seconds before kissing dirt once again.

This rigmarole went on for several hours, as the green dress they were wearing turned muckier and muckier, before eventually, Mibbet managed to stand, and even with some practice walk with a grace and elegance, she was almost proud of. That done, and after a quick soak in the pond, which according to the voice was “to make you halfway presentable”, they looked towards the village in the distance and started to walk.

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Bert was a bandit, and a proud one at that, from a long line of pickpockets, vagabonds, rogues, and general ne'er-do-wells. Five generations, his family had plied their trade. As such, he considered himself reasonably skilled at the art of choosing a target. As a result, when he saw a very soggy looking noble heading up the path, with neither guard nor escort, his response was a no-brainer. (Which was fortunate, as Bert and his roommate Ernie were somewhat short in this department, though Bert considered himself a true Moriarty).

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

“Look lively, Ern”, he chuckled. "It seems we ‘ave ourselves a customer."

Ernie picked up a rusty sword, while Bert shouldered the trusty family hatchet. (Not his families, of course, but presumably somewhere down the line it had belonged to a family.)

“Are you sure, Bert?” Ernie replied, “They’re dressed like a noble, and nobles mean trouble."

“Are you stupid, Ern? Look at the state of em; they’re staggering about so much they’ve clearly ‘ad a few too many, no maids, no guards, no nothing. ‘Ow could any self-respecting bandit let such an easy mark go? Now come on, we’ve got work to do, and they ain’t gonna rob themselves now, are they?”

So in what was quite probably the worst move of their entire banditting career, Bert and Ernie sallied forth.

“Now now now, what ‘ave we ‘ere?” Bert gloated, getting in the way of the staggering noble, while Ernie cut round behind, to cut off escape, as if this one seemed to be in any state to run. “A pretty young noble out all alone, oh dearie me, as an upstanding citizen, I find myself duty-bound to ensure ‘er protection. For a fee, of course.” He leered.

“I fear for ‘er out all alone like this; who knows what could ‘appen.”

This was the moment when Bert and Ern LEARNED.

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The princess was livid. How dare these peasants? She was Princess Rosalind Van Harmsworth, and they had the nerve to actually threaten her? The world turned red in her eyes as she shoved her new companion to one side and took the reins.

Unlike Mibbet, however, she was very used to these legs. Years of compulsory ballet training left her with a kick like a whole herd of irate mules in steel-toed boots who had just heard somebody insulting their mothers. So she jumped forward, bringing her leg up with a Grand Battement that should have ceased at a 110-degree angle. Yet somehow slammed into the obstacle hard enough to reach 130 degrees.

Bert’s eyes crossed at the sudden and entirely unexpected intrusion into his pelvic regions; he made the SECOND-biggest mistake of his career. He let go of the hatchet.

Usually to lift a hatchet this size would require extensive training, but apparently in a pinch sheer fury would suffice. She picked up the hatchet and turned her full enraged gaze towards the bandits, who were now pondering a very rapid career change.

Thus, on this day, the first recorded case of a princess robbing bandits came to pass before the rage wore off, and Mibbet found herself back in control, watching the pair flee into the distance.

Many years later, the pair would look back on their bandit days with a smile. But no regrets, as apparently their crystal ball broadcasts turned out to be a far more profitable career.