It turns out when Mibbet predicted that they would have a long night, she definitely didn’t guess wrong. It seemed that every time they thought that they’d successfully vanquished these creatures, a few more would show up as if to make a liar of her. In the end they took to sleeping in shifts, and alternating so everybody got a nap. Unfortunately for Mibbet it seemed that the Fluftens had a similar idea, and they had a much more plentiful supply of fresh fighters than Mibbet and the others.

The first to falter was Errol, he hadn’t really had as much training in sleep deprivation as the others. So he was quickly bundled into Trundles, as Mibbet tried to figure out a way to keep them all safe, which was rapidly becoming an impossible feat. Just how many of these bloody things were there?

Eventually they had to go with a tactic of last resort, quickly boarding Trundles,and blocking up any hole big enough to let anything bigger than a Sqwoomphette through. That done they poked pulled out several spears, and braced themselves, making the entire carriage resemble a wheeled hedgehog. This at least bought them the time to take turns napping properly, even if it was rather cramped quarters. (Everybody couldn’t help but feel envious of Addy who was rather less chomp-able than most of them. Built in a manner that was not conducive to muscle fatigue, and did not need to sleep.)

Unlike Mibbet who was rapidly approaching the point of being too tired for even Jitturbugs finest to be of a great deal of help. (Which was a real problem given that even some necromancers utilised his brew as part of their revival routine. True usually accompanied by a dark magic spell or too, but still.)

So the night wore on, then suddenly from Outside Mibbet heard the sound of fighting, and it wasn’t from people on her side. That could either be very good, or very bad. (Mibbet had a lot of enemies, she was aware of this fact, but sincerely hoped the numbers weren’t sufficient to be fighting each other. That would be a whole different type of trouble.)

She peered outside, and was surprised by what she was, several humanoid dragon people of some kind. (They had to have dragon in them, the way they were breathing flames at the Fluftens didn’t really leave many other possibilities.) They were clad in some kind of scaled armour, and were working together as a unit.

Several of these details were somewhat hard for Mibbet to process. First off as far as she was aware with the exception of Grark, she really hadn’t had many encounters with individuals of a draconian persuasion. Secondly, so far her experiences with the “proper authorities,” with the exception of her own personal guard had been far from sterling, hell they were barely even rusty tin. So guards fighting on her side? Something was kinda fishy there. Then there was the issue of them being far too sudden in their appearance. So far Mibbet had found that as a royal, her hidden guards were far too efficient at the “hidden” part, and kinda sucked at the guard bit. She knew that they existed, in theory, but was pretty sure this wasn’t them. That said they were here, and fighting on her behalf. That counted for some major Brownie points in Mibbet’s book, and maybe even a few gold stars in Rosalind’s.

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She quickly shook her slumbering companions awake (except Rascal, who had woken rather quickly at the sight of all that flame.) Then they began to prepare to push back. The Carriage Driver digging into his emergency supply of crossbow bolts, and Mibbet climbing onto Alba, as they poured out of the carriage. (Except Addy who just climbed down from the roof.) They had backup now, and it was time for a little payback.

Errol dove in, swinging Donk about like a man possessed, (rather than a man possessing far too little sleep, but hey when you’re that cranky sometimes it’s good to find something to take it out on, right?) Elvira following at his heels, jabbing around him, like the worlds gangliest fortified position. As it turns out Fluftens have something of an aversion to being stabbed. Slashing at them is of course, as we mentioned earlier, pointless though.

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Sir Leeroy, while very tired, made a good showing of himself. While his blade was rather useless, it turned out all those wrestling matches he loved watching whenever he had time off duty, finally paid off. He had a substantial number of different types of body slam that seemed rather effective. (Not sure if you call it splash damage when you land on an enemy hard enough, and over a wide enough area that their squidgy bits all go splash, but pretty sure it counts.) That and his tendency to, when bitten, bite back. (For the record biting a Fluften is widely considered a bad idea, not because of any kind of venom, toxin, acid blood, or anything of that sort. Rather because they taste more disgusting than hospital food reheated by school dinner ladies, and served according to nutrition guidelines cooked up by those people who think kale milkshakes are a good idea. Then strained through an old gym sock, with a hole in it so all the lumpy bits get through, then served by an army quartermaster, who hogs all the best bits for themselves, then gives you what’s left with a side of Biscuit browns.) Meant he did more than his share of damage.

Then came Addy, who seemed to have picked up a log about as wide across as Mibbet’s waist, and was swinging it as a club. It turned out their enemies were not as immune to splat as previously believed. (which was probably just as well as pretty much everybody was running on fumes.)

Then Mibbet remembered a detail that she very rarely recalled in battle, she had magic. Charging in on Alba and flinging a few ice javelins certainly helped.

Then suddenly one of the dragon kin turned to her with a polite bow.

“Princess Rosalind Von Harmsworth I presume?” He said with a smug grin.