Sorry for the delay. Real-life stuff happened, such as me being scammed and being sad about that. But hey, at least it wasn't much. I hope you like this one.
Did you know that, depending on the culture, a last name may mean something different? It's one of the many things that make Amphibia's multispecies society so wonderful!
Starting with the toads, a last name means very little to their kind. Toads are not the kind to write down their ancestry, so anything beyond their 3rd or 4th generation back is not important to them. Most toads would only keep track up to their grandparents or even their great-grandparents, but rarely any before that. However, when a toad achieves a middling status, this changes. Using the toad-worshipped Toadcules as an example, a rather impossible number of toads claim to be a descendant of the great warrior, yet are so willing to marry each other in some distant incestuous relationship. All they cared is being related to Toadcules. Simply barbaric.
Moving on to the frogs, it highly depends. Frogs are much more diverse in terms of their culture than other races, possibly attributing to their more adventurous and colonial nature. But focusing on the more extreme example, frog families maintain highly detailed records of their genealogy. There are frog families that have records from as far as the 2nd Century, and tends to branch out similar to that of a shrub. It is theorised that frogs tend to stay within a specific practice such as agriculture due to their family history discouraging them from branching out to other pastures, thus dooming them to a life of mediocrity. Even maintaining a family record is not common, possibly due to disinterest and illiteracy. Most likely, both.
Finally, the glorious and prestigious newts. The cream of the crop, the creme de la creme. While toads don't see the importance of familial history with their brutish personalities and the frogs are too mentally incapable to bother, the newts take great care of their lineage, so much so that the political landscape in Newtopia and other selected parts of Amphibia are determined by it. Some positions, whether administrative, military, cultural or business, are only open to those who hold the correct family name. The use of family connection and the importance of a newt's lineage cannot be underestimated; in extreme situations, it could be the difference between life or death.
Imagine that every family line is the shape of a plant; For frogs, it'd be a shrub and for toads? Nothing more than blades of grass. Then comes the newt's family structure – a very well-maintained conical topiary. Topiaries need to be trimmed to maintain its shape and quality, and that's exactly what happens in newt culture. Dissidents and rowdy branches aren't provided support. Instead, they may get cut off from the family, removing any connection to the main central branch. Some are even refused the right to use their last name. This ensures that the family heritage and image are secured. But the pieces that were trimmed? Well, they either start new families from scratch or are simply forgotten in the depths of history as if they never existed.
— Professor Amby S. Latte, head of Newtopia's Ancestry Records, excerpt from "Caring For a Newtling: Preventing Rebellious Behaviour"
"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"
Hark! Was that the voice of a distressed lady in need I hear?
One could only wonder what happenings were occurring to bring such a cry. Was it an attack from a rival tribe that wiped our fair lady's village? Maybe a betrayal by her beloved who, being the scummy man he hypothetically was, decided to go for a younger and hotter woman? Nay, it was neither. It was actually much less interesting.
In the outskirts of nowhere, an old frog by the name of Hop Pop crossed his arms, his brows furled in displeasure. "Sasha, please be reasonable."
"I DON'T WANNA!"
In front of him, a young blonde girl – the lady in question – cried with exaggerated tears. Within her arms was a massive chimera-like creature, an unholy union of scorpion and lion. It had a more common name but Sasha, the girl, chose differently.
"Dwayne Johnson—"
"Dwayne 'The Rock' Johnson."
"Dwayne 'The Rock' Johnson is, and I'm being very clear about this, a ginormous wild animal." Hop Pop stressed. "Not just any wild animal at that! He's a Scorpileo! He eats people!"
"Aww, come on, Hop Pop! Lighten up! I mean, sure, this monster tried to pop me in his teeth like a strawberry but it's a good boy now." Next to him, a little pollywog with a pretty bow – known as Polly – chimed.
She then proceeded to scratch the creature's paw, only to be stopped by the elderly with his age superiority. "It is not a 'good boy' and neither of you two get a word in this. This is between me, Sasha and the Scorpileo."
Another frog – a young lad, Sprig – gasped. "But I thought we were family!"
"This isn't a family issue! This is a survival issue! We are not bringing him to town!" Hop Pop spat, his arms raised in exclamation.
Although he had some very logical and convincing arguments, debating with a 14-year-old was never going to be easy. Sasha hugged the Scorpileo tighter, sinking into its fur. "B-b-but grandfather, my lord, oh honourable and generous grandfather… Please, I beseech thee; look inside your warm and kind heart and allow this poor lady her wish granted. For I..."
Her lips quivered and her eyes enlarged with pupils dilating into what could be described as the world's most kicked puppy.
"I love him."
Hop Pop breathed in sharply.
"YOU ONLY KNEW HIM FOR A DAY!"
"I CAN LOVE THINGS IN A DAY!"
Could you? Was it truly possible to fall in love with a wild and dangerous creature in a day? Especially one that tried to devour you like a gourmand about to devour a McDonald's double cheeseburger? Alas, Hop Pop did not think so.
Despite the girl's protests, even she was hopeless against the might of a parent figure's authoritative Stare. It was a terrible power that all parents would inherit once their wards reach an age of defiance, and not one to be used lightly. Though not having any kids himself, Hop Pop knew a thing or two about dealing with children and thus, earned the Stare anyway.
Eventually, despite her anarchist spunk, Sasha faltered and crumbled like a biscuit in milk. The Stare had no equal.
Later that day, Sasha glared at Hop Pop, her arms crossed and her brows furrowed so deeply, it made her forehead twice its size. She huffed, kicking her legs annoyedly. "You're a heartless monster, Hop Pop! Heartless, I tell ya!"
Behind them, Sprig joined in. "Ya, Hop Pop! Cold-hearted!"
"Heart like a stinky egg!" Polly added.
"STINKY!"
"Quit it!" Hop Pop barked back. "We all knew that was never gonna work. We could've gotten arrested, or worse. At least you got to say goodbye before we re-enter society."
Sasha crossed her arms and leaned back with a huff. She blew a loose lock of her hair from her face, clearly unsatisfied. "Society sucks."
"That's society for ya." Hop Pop replied with a nod.
It may not have been perfect but at least society worked, unlike the wilderness where it was a frog-eat-frog world. Hop Pop quite liked the safety and comfort of society, even when it didn't work out so well for him or when he believed he was treated unfairly.
He also wished he never had to pay taxes but he'd never say that out loud. The statement alone was a ground for treason against the crown and he was not ready to lose it all over a portion of his income. That's just how society worked.
Since leaving the forest, the rest of the trip had been quiet and uneventful, just the way he liked it. But just as he had to imagine a better today and tomorrow, the Plantars faced their greatest obstacle yet – a rather steep hill.
"Oh wow, would you look at that! That's one steep hill. It sure would've been useful if we had, say, a giant scorpion-lion hybrid to help. That would've been super convenient." Sasha drawled with venom on her tongue.
Hop Pop frowned and tightened his grip. "Bessie can handle this herself. Ain't that right, girl?"
"Preeeeee!"
And off they went, giddy-uping over.
Now, Hop Pop was a frog of the path. He liked being on the path; the path was safe and predictable. It was maintained and most importantly, it was reliable. Going off the path has always led to mischief but staying on the path was mischief-free.
However, he was having second thoughts. This was a particular steep hill – one they shouldn't have even built a path on. Yet, he carried on, whipping Bessie's reins occasionally for support.
"Tell us, Sprig. What's our next stop?" He asked, focused on the road.
The boy rolled open the map and checked. "Hmm, looks like a town named Ribbitvale." He said. He then took a whiff of the town's icon and smiled. "Hmph, it smells nice."
"Wha—Ribbitvale?! Change of plans, kids! We're skipping that one." Hop Pop exclaimed.
Sasha raised a brow. "Why? What's in Ribbitvale?"
Hop Pop scoffed. "Bah! Just the 'fanciest' place in Amphibia. At least, that's what they themselves claim. It's just a bunch of pretentious, hoity-toity gibberish."
"Fanciest, huh? That explains why it's written in cursive." Sprig remarked, before then sniffing it again. "It also smells like caviar, gold shavings and a hint of Lady Lavender No. 2."
Sitting next to him, Polly took a whiff herself. "Are you crazy, bro? That's clearly Lady Lavender No. 3."
"Nuh-uh! Lady Lavender No. 3 has a hint of oranges. This is clearly mandarin."
Sasha stared at the siblings. "I have no idea what you two are talking about."
"Hop Pop's favourite perfume brand." Polly replied.
Instantly, Sasha burst into a fit of laughter. "Bwahahaha! Hop Pop, you use perfume and it's called Lady Lavender?!" She asked, nudging the old frog playfully with her elbow and wiping tears from her eyes.
"Hey, it's a really good and affordable brand of perfume. Perfect for someone of my generation." He insisted. "Also, back on topic! And I say we are not visiting Ribbitvale for any reason! Not even if the frog gods say so!"
Up in the theological heavens of frogkind, the three frog gods that watch over their creations – the humble frog – glared at the farmer. Responding to his alleged heresy, they snapped their fingers just as they reached the hilltop.
SNAP!
"PREEEEEEE!"
"Bessie! BESSIIIIEEEEEE!"
Suddenly and without warning, Bessie's reins broke like twigs in an autumn playground. Shocked by the noise, Bessie ran into a panicked frenzy and the Plantars, now without their means of steering, were dragged by their carriage, no mercy attending.
Bessie and consequently, the Plantars, swerved left and right in a snake-like pattern, the fwagon's wheels leaving marks in the dirt. Hop Pop tried his best to regain control, grabbing the remains of the reins, but they had fallen loose and Bessie barely acknowledged it.
In the end, mercy was granted to them. To their luck, a herd of sheep-flies were roaming in the open pastures. Bessie, distracted by their appearance, gradually slowed down. Curious, she approached one of them, just mindlessly eating grass, and stared.
She then rubbed her head on the sheep's fleece, purring loudly. "Prrruuuuu~"
Hop Pop wiped his brow with a sigh of relief. That could've ended badly.
Sasha, now recovered, pursed her lips. "Looks like we're visiting Ribbitvale after all. And to think this could've all been avoided, had we kept Dwayne 'The Rock' Johnson."
"WILL YOU CUT THAT OUT?!"
Did you know that Hop Pop was once a wagoneer? Now, what is a wagoneer, you may ask? Well, it's essentially an old-timey version of a Grab driver or more precisely, a taxi. Wagoneers would travel from town to town, delivering passengers to their desired destinations. It was his first ever job after graduating from acting school.
Being a wagoneer had its perks. He learned a lot about travelling and visited many unique locations. The pay was abysmal and the upfront costs were horrendous, but it was honest and enlightening work for a frog with very little experience.
One of the areas that he visited happened to be Ribbitvale. The passengers paid good tips, more so than anywhere else. The time and work was worth its weight in gold.
The attitudes, however, was not.
With the whole family pitching in, they pushed the wayward snail the entire way and eventually arrived at the town. Bessie was unbothered, munching a mushroom snack the whole way.
Hop Pop huffed, cracking his backside. "Welp, here we are, unfortunately." He said, disgruntled. "Welcome to Ribbitvale."
When Hop Pop called it the 'self-proclaimed fanciest place in Amphibia', Sasha thought he was just pulling her leg. She shouldn't have doubted the (self-proclaimed) most honest frog in Amphibia.
Ribbitvale was unlike anywhere she'd ever been to. Nicknamed 'The Town of Wealth', the city was by far the most luxurious and high-society of all Amphibia locales. Its buildings were painted with a palette of shining gold and rose pink, topped by quality grey-blue roof tiles. Each building was designed with an artistic and liberal flair, and installed with high-end and very expensive glasswork.
Unlike Wartwood's cheaply-cut stone, Ribbitvale's structures were made out of industry-grade brickwork, manufactured and shaped from factories built nearby. This gave it more freedom in its architecture while allowing better and more orderly city planning, in comparison to the peasant town's more natural growth yet haphazard building design. Even its roads were paved to a smooth finish, whereas Wartwood suffered from potholes and underground insect nests.
Sasha couldn't help but feel envious.
"Hey Hop Pop, can we just live here from now on?" She asked. Instead of a response, all she got was a spritz in the face. "ACK!"
"Don't fall prey to the fancy! It's all hogwash." Hop Pop warned, the spray bottle in hand. He then turned to the other children, spraying them as well.
"AAAH! GRANDFATHER, WHY?!" Polly screamed.
"You were thinking it." He replied. "This is exactly why I'm against bringing you here."
"It can't be helped! I mean, look at this place!" Sprig exclaimed, then pointing at various fancy things in view. "A ten-tiered fountain! A solid-gold snail carriage?! And that lobster is literally made of gold!"
SNIP! SNIP! The lobster replied.
"Amazing."
Hop Pop rolled his eyes. This was, much to his dismay, already off to a bad start. He should've packed some spare reins from back in Plantar farm but he trusted Sprig and Polly's packing so much that he didn't bother to do a thorough check. They even forgot to pack the Road Rules book that he wrote from all his years of travel.
Actually, did they even know that book existed? They never left the valley before, so he never needed to show it to them. Curse his love and protectiveness for his grandchildren!
"Alright, from here on out, we'll be splitting to two: Polly and I will go get ourselves some new reins, and you two watch over Bessie till we get back." Hop Pop ordered. "Make sure she's comfortable. She gets nervous around rich people, y'know, due to her history."
Sasha raised a brow. "I honestly don't believe that and I've read Bessie's book."
Sprig waved his worries away. "It's fine, Hop Pop! We'll just be right here, admiring the fancy."
"I specifically told you not to do that." He said, followed by a heavy sigh.
"Eh, I think it's overrated." Sasha commented with a shrug.
"You literally just said that you wanted to move here."
"I-I mean, yeah, but that doesn't stop it from being superficial." She stammered. "Appearing fancy is just one part of the shtick. You gotta act fancy too, otherwise it all breaks apart."
To prove her point, she scanned the surrounding areas, searching for a suitable target. There, outside the shops, she spotted two historically well-dressed individuals, admiring a product through its windows. She pointed at the shorter one, his hair curled to resemble the armrests of a sofa chair.
"Look at that guy, for example. Look at his stupid curled hair and funny clothes. He looks like a German Disney's Pinocchio who won a golden ticket to a furniture factory. Ugh, and that eye! Like, at least cover it with an eye patch or something." She then gagged. "Disgusting."
Sprig chuckled. "Heh, he kinda looks like Wally."
"Pfft, yeah, right. As if Wally would wear anything so demeaning. I like Wally and that loser is not Wally." Sasha dismissed.
"Now wait a sec, I kinda see Sprig's point." Polly chimed in.
"No. There is no way that's Wally."
"But what if?"
"But none! Na-da!"
"I'm on Sasha's side for this one. Like, why would Wally be in the fanciest place on Amphibia? That just doesn't fit him." Hop Pop voiced.
"We could just ask, y'know." Sprig suggested. Cupping his hands, he then shouted at the passers-by's direction. "HEY, YOU! FUNNY OUTFIT GUY!"
"Huh?" The frog in question turned.
"Hah! He turned!" Sasha laughed.
Sprig ignored her and continued. "Are you Wally?"
The frog blinked and for a moment, he just stood there, his expression complicated to describe and without a word leaving his lips. He was like in a forced catatonic state, trying his best to keep calm but failing to withhold his unease. For several long seconds, he didn't say a word.
"... No."
Sasha's eyes widened. "Oh frog, it is Wally."
Immediately, the entire Plantar family (minus Bessie) rushed to the familiar frog. They even crossed the road between them without looking left and right, which was not something you should do.
Before the fancily-dressed frog could say anything, Sasha got in first, slapping his shoulder with a buddy-buddy smile. "Wally, my good ol' chum! Nice to see you again, you little skank. It's only been a few weeks but it feels like over a year. Nice clothes, by the way. Totally suits you. You look like a French supermodel. Very 'le beau'."
"A-a-ah…"
Just as the exchanges were about to commence, the frog accompanying him joined, slightly adjusting his monocle. Unlike Wally, this man was far more maturely dressed, wearing an impeccable two-piece suit and silver top hat, adorned with decorative flowers. Interestingly, both Wally and the older gentleman had ribbons tied around their necks.
"Hmm? Walliam, are you perhaps familiar with these commoners and their tall pet?" The older frog asked. He then examined Sasha, scratching his chin. "Hmm, and what an exotic pet at that."
Though stuttered, 'Walliam' quickly answered. "U-uh, y-yes, Father. These were the locals who guided me during my business travels."
"Hi there! I'm Sprig!" He greeted.
Walliam's father tipped his hat back. "A pleasure to meet you, Sprig. Tell me—" He then pointed at the teenager with his cane. "—how much for the beast?"
Sasha blinked. "What?"
Sprig shook his head. "Oh no, she's not for sale."
"How about 15 gold pieces?"
"You can rent her for a day."
"Hey!" Sasha shouted, offended. "First off, I am not for sale or for rent! Second, I'm definitely worth more than 15 gold! I'm at least, like, 25 or something. 30 tops."
Hop Pop quickly butted in. "What she meant to say was that she's a member of the Plantar family. Eh, adopted."
Briefly, the frog was surprise but with a cough, he cleared his throat and recovered. "Ah, my apologies then. I didn't mean to offend you." He said, though it was hard to tell whether it was sincere or not. "Introductions are in order: I am Wigbert Ribbiton, the current head of the Ribbiton family, at your leisure."
It took a moment for Hop Pop to process that. "Wait, Ribbiton?! As in of Ribbiton Ribbons?!"
The frog, now revealed as Wigbert, smirked and puffed his chest proudly. "The one and only."
Hop Pop gasped in awe. "Oh my lord, we're in the presence of a celebrity! It's a pleasure to meet you, Sir Ribbiton."
"The pleasure's all mine, sir...?"
"Plantar. Hopadiah Plantar." He replied. Wigbert poised his hand out and Hop Pop gleefully grabbed it, shaking it with vigour. After letting go, he gestured at the others. "And these are my grandchildren. You've met Sprig, and this here's Polly, and she's Sasha."
Sasha nodded. "Waybright. Sasha Waybright."
"And Plantar too, when it's convenient." He added.
Just like before, Wigbert began examining Sasha, glancing up and down her entire physique. He had never seen such a creature before, to the point that he initially assumed her to be some kind of terrifying wild abomination of nature. Had she been anything less than sane or sapient, he would've loved to put her in his private conservatory. Shame that wasn't the case.
What's even more peculiar was the fact she had a last name. How odd...
Wigbert hummed. "Waybright? What a peculiar family name."
"It's not local."
"Really? But Walliam told me you were one—"
"Oh, she's not local like that, Father!" Wally interrupted. "She's from, uh… Germania!"
"Germania? I've never heard of such a place."
"It's a small territory. Most of them live underground. They lost two great wars and have an irrational fear of heavy rocks and any well-functioning bureaucracy." Wally explained, not that any of it was remotely true for the teenager. Hearing that, Sasha baulked at his explanation, almost offended even.
"My, is that so? Well, my apologies then. To come from such a difficult place explains the horrendous appearance. I will be more accommodating in the future."
"Y-yeah, sure…" Sasha growled, sending chills down Wally's flaccid spine.
If you're gonna make a lie, at least make it flattering.
It was then Wigbert noticed a snail sitting idly near the town's entrance. More precisely, he noticed the carriage attached behind it. Although not as grandiose or brilliant as his own, he could tell from a glance that this was no ordinary carriage. Despite the wear and tear on the surface, the carriage's general form and core strength remained unchanged, guaranteed from its quality materials and ensuring a comfortable and reliable ride for many years to come.
"Hmm, is that your wagon over there?" Wigbert asked. "My, what a simple yet perfected design. It must've been the work of a master craftsman."
Hop Pop turned to see where he was pointing, and nodded. "Oh, that? That there's our fwagon. The reins broke, so we're on our way to get new ones."
Wigbert raised a brow. "The reins, you say? Well, that won't do."
CLAP CLAP!
Hanging his cane over his arm, he clapped his free hands twice in a dignified and sophisticated manner, though not that Sasha would perceive. Suddenly, from frog gods know where, a small battalion of midget frogs appeared, each wearing red strongman leotards. They marched to Bessie and her fwagon, quickly surrounding her, and before the snail realised what was happening, they lifted the vehicles up and over their heads effortlessly.
"Hup, hup, hup, hup, hup—" The midgets chanted, marching off and disappearing with the two-piece combo.
"My mechanics will make her right as rain in no time." Wigbert assured, smiling boastfully. "It'll be just as good as when it was first bought, maybe even better."
Hop Pop was left agape. Facing the bourgeois, he beamed, blushing modestly. "Oh! Thank ya kindly, sir. You shouldn't have. It's just a pair of reins."
"Nonsense! It's the least I can do for accommodating Walliam here. Any friend of Walliam is a friend of mine." Wigbert replied, glancing briefly at his anxious son. "I know he can be a bit of a handful but he's a good boy."
Wally could only chuckle nervously.
Wigbert cleared his throat. "Ahem! Now, my mechanics should be repairing your fwagon at the mansion as we speak. I hope none of you mind coming in as guests."
Sprig gawked. "M-m-mansion?!"
"Yes, mansion. It's part of the Ribbiton estate. Though, don't let the name fool you. It's quite modest, really."
"It would be an honour!" Hop Pop excitedly said, unhesitatingly grabbing Wigbert's hand and shaking it briskly. The rich frog had to wiggle his hand a bit afterwards, feeling numb from the rough and tough of a farmer's working thumbs. It didn't bother him though; in fact, he quite liked the enthusiasm.
"Heh… Well then, let us be off. Our own wagon is just around the corner." Wigbert said, taking the lead. As he strolled up front, his son Walliam walked beside him, oddly more tense and jittery than usual. The Plantars – Sasha included – followed closely behind, much to their eagerness.
Still, a thought came to mind.
Wigbert turned around, looking at the Plantars. "Though, I must ask; what is a 'fwagon' actually?"
Hop Pop's eyebrows perked. "It's short for 'family-sized wagon'."
Sasha then rushed forward, pushing herself over the patriarch. "Thooouugh, I call it an RV which stands for 'recreational vehicle' which sounds way better and makes more sense."
"Nobody's gonna call it that!"
"Nobody's gonna call it a 'fwagon' either!"
Ignoring the bickering generation gap, Wigbert scratched his chin in thought. "Family-sized wagon…" He muttered, then laughed. "Ha-ha, indeed! 'Fwagon' sounds splendid!"
Hop Pop nudged Sasha with a braggart's smirk, much to her crossed-arms annoyance.
Wigbert f glanced at his son, grabbing his attention. "Walliam, make sure to guide your acquaintances. It's easy to get lost in Ribbitvale with how fancy it is."
Wally sighed. "Hah… Yes, Father…"
If you were to ask Sasha on whether or not she was rich, she'd vehemently deny it. In fact, if you were to ask almost anyone if they were rich, they'd always say 'No'. There were exceptions, of course, but the most common and likely reply would be a negative. They'd then add how they 'aspire for a more comfortable lifestyle' or how they 'can't afford certain luxuries' and whatnot. It was the best way to support their claim.
So when Wigbert said earlier about how the 'mansion' was a modest one, anyone could tell it was the exact opposite.
The Ribbiton estate, where the mansion was located, was a large plot of land, so expansive that it even had its own forest reserve. The estate's borders were lined with intricate golden fences, whereas the main gate – also golden – included elaborately designed carvings and frog figures at the top of its pillars.
The Ribbiton mansion, the centrepiece of the establishment, was made of pearly white bricks and decorated with shining golden trimmings. Its front door was led by a set of solid gold stairs, and surrounding the manor were numerous well-maintained and impressive topiaries. To top it all off, the mansion featured a giant frog statue, posed in a running motion, possibly to symbolise a businessman's everlasting chase for greater wealth and success.
The frog statue was also naked but nobody was bothered by that. No, they were more preoccupied by the giant peacocks and the frog dressed up in a peacock costume that's feeding them. The costume had visible stitches around the waist, oddly enough.
"Have you ever seen a frog grizzly get torn in half by a peacock?" Wigbert asked.
Sprig, thinking carefully, hesitated. "N-n-no…"
"Would you like to?"
It was eerily quiet from then on.
Eventually, they arrived to an empty bedroom. Despite being unused, the room was impeccably spotless and adorned, from wall to wall, with decorations and paintings. The bedroom's sole bed was so big, even Bessie could sleep in it.
"Here we are. Apologies for the size. We're having a family reunion at the moment and I could only afford to provide one of our, eh, smaller rooms." Wigbert waved. "Still, do enjoy. We'll be having a pre-dinner course in a few hours. Take your time to freshen up and I'll see you then."
Wigbert closed the door, leaving the Plantars and his son – who opted to stay and entertain the guests – in his wake. As the door shut completely with a click, Walliam or better yet, Wally, gave a sigh of relief, the situation settling down finally after a long day.
…
…
"Hah, haaah, HAAAAAAA-"
It didn't last.
Wally began hyperventilating. "Doh, this is a nightmare! What are you guys doing in Ribbitvale?!"
"... Broken reins. Dude, you were there when we said that." Sasha remarked.
"I KNOW! I'M FREAKING OUT!" He shrieked, his heartbeat racing. Like a madman, he lunged towards Sasha and grabbed her by her collar, pulling them face-to-face. "SASHA, SLAP M—!"
SLAP!
"Sasha!" Hop Pop yelled.
"He was in my face! What was I supposed to do?!"
Thankfully, she at least held back, seeing that he was still alive at the moment. Wally whimpered and hissed from the pain, but no longer panicked. He rubbed his poor cheek, its surface bright red over his predominant blue skin. "Mmgh... Thank you… That's gonna be sore till the morning..."
Sasha crossed her arms. "Alright, enough slapstick. Wally, my dude, what's with the secret identity?"
"I guess it's time to reveal the full truth." Wally said with a sigh. He knew this day would come. "My birth name is Walliam Ribbiton, son of Wigbert Ribbiton and the future heir to the Ribbiton Ribbons empire. As the name implies, we have ribbons as our first and main export, though we also sell products such as web crusty floss for your feet and refreshing toothpaste which come in a variety of flavours—"
SLAP!
"SASHA!"
"He was gonna go on a spiel about his family business!"
Wally rubbed his cheek. "S-sorry, sorry. That kinda happens whenever I get into character." He said, gently holding his puffed face. "Anyway, as for the secret identity and why I live like a bum, it's because… I love living like a bum! Life here might seem glamorous but it's so stressful and restrictive! There's just so many rules!"
"So what? You ran away just like that?" Sasha asked.
"Not at the start. I wasn't lying about going on business travels." Wally iterated. "It's just that a few years ago, I stumbled upon Wartwood when my carriage broke down. I had to hike to town and ruined me clothes, making me look like a bum."
He turned away with a nostalgic smile, reminiscing of that time. "The locals treated me uncaringly, looking at me with disgust. It was as if I was a homeless weirdo." He said. "And like every homeless weirdo, they just ignored me, outside of the occasional glances. But for the most part, I was by my lonesome."
"For the first time in my life, I was a nobody. Nobody cared for me but at the same time, nobody had any expectations of me either. I gained a newfound freedom beyond anything I could ever imagine!" Wally cheered, his jubilant smile stretching from cheek to cheek. Like the morning sunshine after a foggy night, it instantly blinded the room. "That's when I decided to make Wartwood my home and became 'One-Eyed Wally', Wartwood's premiere vagrant."
Sasha tilted her head, confused. "'Premiere'? What, are there other vagrants?"
Wally nodded a reply. "There were. It was stiff competition but eventually, I reigned supreme. You're currently number 2 on the vagrant's list."
"Wha—If anything, I'm NUMBER ONE!"
Polly stared at the girl. "Girl…"
"Right, right! Forget what I just said." Sasha hissed, pinching between the eyes. "Okay, so you chose to live like a funny hobo. And I'm guessing you didn't tell you parents about this because—" She waved her hand around. "—family honour or whatever."
Wally sighed. "Pretty much. I mean, I love my dad but if he ever found out, well… He'd definitely bar me from visiting Fiddle Leaf."
"… Who the heck Fiddle Leaf?"
Ah, the stables – a staple in a rich person's residence.
It made sense economically; a personal form of transportation was seen as a luxury for most of history. After all, not everyone can afford the astronomical costs of one. Amphibian transportation required a large amount of resources and specialised equipment, as well as their own place of rest. You'd also need the skills in managing and maintaining one, making sure it's always in the pink of health.
Take Bessie, for example. Since the beginning of their domesticated history, snails like her were primarily used for work: moving items across long distances or as extra muscle when ploughing fields. And while she's beloved, she's not a pet. She's first a Plantar, and second a work animal. She serves an important function in the Plantars' farming business. Instead of stables as her bed, she slept in the barn, alongside farming equipment and harvested goods.
Stables were for special animals, either for sport or personal use. Although gastropods, arachnids and beetles are more common nowadays, they will always be a pricey investment.
In the Ribbiton stables, Wally opened a wooden gate. "Meet Fiddle Leaf, me beloved ladybug. I've been riding her since I was a wee little lad."
Now, having been to Amphibia, Sasha had seen a number of giant insects, most of which wanted to try and eat her one way or another. So she wasn't at all surprised about Fiddle Leaf being a giant ladybug. In fact, the ladybug was smaller than she expected.
And also blue. That surprised her the most.
"She's very… blue." Sasha noted, stunned. "Huh."
Wally raised a brow. "Why? What's wrong with her being blue?"
"I don't know; aren't ladybugs supposed to be red?"
"Ladybugs can be blue too! Why should they just be red?" Wally argued. He then laid himself onto her, lovingly caressing his pet's carapace. "She's beautiful, just the way she is."
Sasha rolled her eyes. "You know what, forget I asked."
And forgot, he did. "Fiddle Leaf was a gift from my mother before she passed. It's the last memento I have of her. I don't really remember her much but I do remember she was a wonderful lady." Wally narrated. "Both me and my dad love this ladybug. We'd go on rides and just cruise around the estate. But if he ever finds out, he'll definitely prevent me from seeing her. Probably would think I'm tarnishing my mother's name."
Wally sighed. "And maybe I did, and am. It's all so… difficult, y'know?"
Sprig and Sasha eyed one another, visibly apprehensive all of the sudden. The 'family honour' issue turned out to be a 'mutual departed' issue and well… Let's just say they have different perspectives.
Between the two, Sprig was the first to respond, taking a deep breath to calm his nerves. "Hah… Okay, I get it. I really do. But..." He drawled. "You can't keep this a secret forever. He's going to find it out anyway. Plus, Mr Wigbert is your dad and a really nice person. I'm sure he'll understand."
Wally didn't seem to like Sprig's idea but then again, it was perfectly reasonable. He sighed, conceding. "Hah… Maybe you're right, Sprig. I'll think about it."
Sprig smiled. He was absolutely sure he's right. After all, with how accommodating Wigbert Ribbiton was, there's no way he was a bad parent. He was a ridiculously rich frog who had no problems interacting with common-folk like himself – a perfect example of his understanding nature.
Unfortunately for him, no everyone agreed.
"Counterpoint! I'm proposing a counterpoint." Sasha butted in, a finger raised. "What if – and here me out over this – we don't tell your dad?"
With wide eyes, Sprig slowly rotated towards her.
"I mean, think about it. You're afraid to tell your dad. That means there's a very definite possibility that he's gonna react very badly. Like, he could just disown you, saying stuff like 'I have no son' or whatever? Worse, he might even hate you." She sharply stressed. "Well, screw that! If your dad's gonna act like a jerk, then it's only fair you act like a jerk first! Strike him before he strikes you! Pre-emptive action! Anarchy!"
Wally was horrified. "Wha—but he's my dad!"
A weak argument, which Sasha only scoffed. "So what? Screw the old man. You are a strong, independent, weird-eyed creepy hobo! You don't need your parents telling you what you can or can't do! They weren't there for you anyway, so it's only fair."
Fair is fair.
Wally, however, did not look so good. "Oh no! Now I'm receiving conflicting opinions! I'll need to use my brain to process this!" He shrieked, clutching his head in pain. Before anyone could say anything else, Wally ran off and out of the stables. "I'll be right back!" He shouted.
Sasha didn't bat an eye; it was just Wally being Wally. Just as she was checking on her nails – they desperately needed a manicure – she noticed her little bro looking at her with an expression that could only be described as 'about to commit a Brutus'. And guess who's the Caesar in this?
She continued checking her nails. "What? Why are you staring at me like that?"
Bearing a fierce glare, he then exploded.
"WHAT WAS THAT?!"
Sasha flinched but then shot back. "What was what?" She said, looking away and crossing her arms. "Wally wanted advice and I gave him a solid. That's what friends do."
"Well, it was horrible! You shouldn't keep big secrets from your parents like that!"
Sasha's eyebrows bent slightly. "Why not?"
"Because they're your parents!" Sprig said firmly. "They've nurtured you, and sacrificed for you, a-a-and have cared for you since you were a tadpole. There's no way they'd reject you; that's impossible!"
"Impossible? Pfft, yeah, right. Parents are forced to take care of you. They have to, because it's the law. They don't have a choice on that matter. So they just tolerate you, pushing you to the other parent just so they don't have to deal with you. As for the kid? She's essentially the beanbag in a game of hot potato."
"Wha—ugk?!"
Before things could escalate, Wally returned just in the nick of time. "Okay, I'm back and I've processed it. And I've decided to keep it all bottled in me until I die. Thanks, Sasha!"
Sasha gave a thumbs up, much to Sprig's horror. "No problem, dude. I'm just being a really good friend. But hey, if you ever want to return the favour, I know a non-profit organization where you can give that sweet, sweet money of yours in promoting a noble cause – me. The Sasha-Is-Always-Right Foundation is constantly asking for donations."
"Is that… Is that real?"
"It should be if those actors did their jobs right."
DING! DING! DING!
Wally perked. "Oops, that's the eating bell. Looks like it's time for dinner. We should head to the dining room as soon as possible. Don't want to keep the family waiting."
Choosing not to wait, Wally went out first, leaving the two step-siblings with one another. While that may usually be a normal thing, there's a sharp tension lingering in the air. It wasn't hard for Sasha to notice it, yet she chose to ignore it. Her BFF, on the other hand, wasn't as apathetic.
Sprig glared at Sasha and with two fingers, he pointed to his eyes, then aggressively at the teenager. "We are not done here."
Sasha blew a raspberry. "Pfft, whatever." She replied dismissively. It was then she realised something off. She began counting. "Wait a minute… One, two… Where's Hop Pop and Polly?"
Meanwhile, in some part of the mansion, an elderly frog and his granddaughter polliwog stared across a really, really long hallway. There were no windows – only closed, identical doors and walls lined from top to bottom with various priceless portraits and paintings. The carpet rolled through the hallway was quite possibly the longest carpet in history, considering the lack of visible seams.
Every 5 doors had either a bust made of marble or a suit of decorative metal armour standing next to it, and every 7 doors was pink for some reason. Every room was occupied and carried a distinct noise unshared by any other room. Yet, the hallway itself was deathly quiet to the point that they could hear their own blood pumping.
Polly smacked her lips. "Welp, we're lost. Probably gonna be stuck here forever. It was nice knowing ya, Hop Pop."
"It's nice knowing you too, Polly."
"Where the heck have you two been?"
Polly waved her flipper. "Oh, you know, places."
Dinner, also known as the best meal of the day. Now, why would dinner be the best, you ask? Well, it's simple; breakfast was never filling – it couldn't be because otherwise, you'd be drowsy – and lunch was just to give you a break from half a day's worth of work. But dinner? Dinner was the one time you're allowed to eat anything and without the rush of needing to go to work or school.
This wasn't a contest. Dinner is factually the best. Anyone who disagreed is wrong.
The best place to eat dinner was in the perfectly-named dining hall. Just like the rest of the mansion, this room was just as extravagant and luxurious as the last, with splashy wallpaper and lots of gold, white and pink. At least there weren't any portraits here, possibly to avoid food being spilled on them.
The table was seated with an assortment of colourful frogs, all of which part of the grander Ribbiton family. They all wore fancy clothing, most tailor-made for their unique body type and preference. One of them was literally just Kermit the Frog except wearing a top hat and a two-piece suit. Sasha was curious about that but she realised nobody here knew who the popular green frog was, so she just sat and stared.
At the main end of the dining table, Wigbert stood and tapped his glass with a silver spoon.
TING TING! "Attention, everybody. Attention." He said, the chattering slowly dying out. "First off, I would like to give my thanks to all of you for being able to come and participate in our annual Ribbiton family gathering. I know it must've been hard to find time in your busy schedules but I personally believe that meeting with our loved ones in such a joyous occasion is one of great importance."
He raised his filled glass – vintage Château de Grenouilles – for a toast. "Here, here!"
"HERE, HERE!" The rest of the table shouted, raising their own glasses.
Wigbert took a sip and cleared his throat. "A-hem! Now, for my second agenda; I wish to congratulate my son for his successful business travels. Expansions of our business in Frog Valley has been going swimmingly." He said with high praise. "Son, if you may stand."
Wally stood up from his chair, though unsure why. From a distance, Wigbert moved his spoon from one of Wally's shoulder to the other, as if he was being knighted. But because it was without touching and with a spoon instead of a sword, it looked a bit funny.
"Walliam Ribbiton, by the power vested in me, given to me with the approval of the Ribbiton sub-heads, I hereby name you as the new head of the Ribbiton family!"
Wally's eyes bulged. "W-w-whaaaat?!"
"Surprise!" Wigbert cheered. Waving his spoon to the side, a small orchestra began playing some tasteful classical music. Everyone immediately began eating, minus Wally who was still frozen in shock.
With a tensed tick, Wally stepped out from his seating and briskly walked to his father's side. "F-f-father, what is this about?!" He whispered harshly.
Wigbert laughed. "Hah! I knew you'd be so shocked in glee! This was worth it." He exclaimed with a smile. "As I said, you are now, from this day forward, the head of the Ribbitons. This also means you're the new president of Ribbiton Ribbons."
Wally could feel his heart rate rising. "B-b-but I'm not ready! This is all so sudden! Shouldn't this be something we'd discuss behind closed doors?"
"What's there to discuss? We both knew you were going to inherit the family business. It was just a matter of 'when'." Wigbert replied, cutting into his dinner – a prime cut of bug, cooked like a steak. "Now, I know this might be a tad surprising and you're feeling woefully unprepared, but don't worry. I'll be with you every step of the way, acting as your advisor. In a year or two, this will be a piece of cake."
"But... But..."
"No buts! If you wish to discuss more, we'll do it later. Now eat your mid-evening dinner before it gets cold." Wigbert hushed, taking a bite of his steak. It was medium well – just the way he liked it.
Sulkily, Wally walked back to his seat and slumped. He stared at his meal, his appetite rapidly deteriorating by the second. He felt awful, wanting to hide himself away in a blanket somewhere. All he could then, however, was pull his hat down, hiding his face.
"Two disasters in one day... What an absolute nightmare..." He muttered under his breath.
Next to him, Sasha was enjoying her meal. Usually, she'd hate the idea of eating bugs but upon witnessing a nice juicy steak, her American blood called out to her. No matter the universe, no one can resist a good steak. She took a small bite, the meat so tender that it melted in her mouth.
"This is, like, the best thing I've ever eaten since I got here. Dang, I'm kinda jealous." Sasha chirped gleefully. Though, when seeing Wally's distress, she quickly swallowed and nudge him with her elbow. "Cheer up, dude. You can still make it work. All you have to do is go on one more business trip, but you line your carriage with those blue mushrooms and BOOM! You faked your death. Now, you can be a hobo for the rest of your life."
Next to Sasha, Sprig stopped eating and glared. "Ooooor we can be honest and tell your dad the truth. I'm sure he'll understand, and you won't even need to hide your identity anymore."
"Being honest is stupid. You don't have to tell your dad anything. Fake. Your. Death. Give that man a heart attack!"
"Don't do that! Being honest is the Plantar way, 'Plantar'." Sprig enunciated.
"Sticking it up to the man is the Sasha way, which just so happens to be my first name." Sasha replied stressfully.
"What does that even mean?!"
Sasha and Sprig continued to stare daggers at one another, neither of the two letting up. At the end of it all, Wally sighed, hiding deeper in his hat. His prospects were, sadly, not looking so fresh.
Remember that whole spiel about rich people having stables? Well, this was where the investment gets paid back in full.
Beast Polo was an interesting game; two teams challenge one another in a match. Every member rode a beast of their choice – usually beetles – and carried a polo stick. The goal was to hit a ball into the other team's, well, goal. So it was pretty simple and easy to understood.
However, it was exclusively a rich man's game. The ball, stick and field might not cost much but the mount was the ultimate money drain. Most people couldn't afford a beetle exclusively used in sports and it was difficult to control one that you're not used to; this was a live animal, after all. If you can't drive your mount, then you'd lose.
Yep, a rich man's game.
THWACK! "GOOOOOAAAAAL!"
In the stands, the crowd went wild. It was a game of Beast Polo between the Northern Tops and the Southern Bottoms. They weren't official teams; simply made up for a game amongst family members.
Even Wigbert was enjoying himself, watching the game with a pair of binoculars. "Oh, did you see that, Walliam? Judith just hit the goal from half the field! Good show, Judith!"
Wally cheered weakly. "Right... Good s-show, indeed..."
In a different stand where the lower caste of family members and visitors sat, Sprig and Sasha were not looking at each other. Their arms were crossed and they purposely looked at the other direction, their nose stuck up and their faces clenched in a deep frown.
Polly raised a brow. "What's your problem?"
Sasha harrumphed, then smarmily answered. "Sprig and I are just having a disagreement, that's all."
Sprig turned and gasped. "Sasha's trying to ruin Wally and his dad's relationship!"
Sasha held her hand over her heart. "Bah! Sprig, I'm offended. I would never do something like that."
"You literally just told Wally to fake his own death!"
"If faking his death is enough to end their relationship, then it wasn't a very good relationship. In fact, I'd say it's better that he just cut ties right then and there. Obviously, the old man doesn't care about Wally's feelings." Sasha contended.
"You don't know that!"
"You don't know that he cares either!"
This was starting to escalate. Let's have a change of scenery and return to the main characters: the Ribbitons. Back at the other viewing stand, Wigbert was enjoying himself. But in his enjoyment, he noticed his son wasn't as positive as he was. Something was off.
"Walliam, are you alright?" Wigbert asked, voicing concern.
Walliam stiffened but ultimately relaxed. "I'm fine, father. Truly am! It's just... I'm nervous, that's all."
"You sure? I'm... sorry for putting this on your plate. I genuinely believed you were ready to take my place." He said, placing a hand on Walliam's shoulder. "Regardless, no matter what, I'll be there with you. If your mother was still here, she's would've been very proud of you."
Walliam smiled. "Thank you, father."
For a brief moment, all of his worries were lifted, a weight off his back. Wally had been so worried of his father's reaction that he forgot the man that stood before him – his father, his sole living parent whom he loved dearly. They might not see eye-to-eye sometimes but this was still his father and, well, Wally was always the sentimental type.
He took he a deep breath. Here goes nothing. "Father…"
"Hmm? Yes, Walliam?"
"There's something I have to tell you..."
Unfortunately, before he could go any further, a minor ruckus in the distance took Wigbert's attention instead. And it seemed to be happening in a nearby viewing stand. "What is going on over there?" Wigbert questioned out loud, grabbing his cane. He quickly strutted to the commotion and Wally soon followed.
Remember that escalation we promptly ignored? Well, we shouldn't have ignored it. Wigbert and Wally hurried to the scene of the event and once arrived, they came to witness something they didn't expect; it was actually just a mild and somewhat silly slap fight between siblings. And by siblings, they were referring to Sasha and Sprig.
SLAPSLAPSLAPSLAPSLA—
"SASHA! SPRIG! STOP THAT!" Hop Pop shouted, putting himself between the two physically and pushing the other away.
Sprig climbed over Hop Pop's arm and yelled. "SHE STARTED IT!"
"YOU'RE THE ONE WHO STARTED IT, DOOFUS!" Sasha yelled back.
They then continued their fairly harmless slap fight. Keep in mind this wasn't violent or anything; it was weak, effeminate and kinda pathetic from a third person's perspective. At most, all they did was annoy Hop Pop even further, being stuck right between the two. They were barely even looking at one another as they traded slaps.
Polly, the bystander, pursed her lips. "Whoa, I've never seen Sasha and Sprig fight before."
"Not helping, Polly!" He hastily replied. Using his old man hidden strength, Hop Pop pushed them away even further, their flimsy hands finally unable to reach each other. "Now, the both of you, SIT DOWN! We are guests here and you two are acting shameful!"
"Is something a matter, Plantars?" Wigbert asked.
His calm yet firm voice was enough to quell the fires, as both Sasha's and Sprig's eyes widened in shock. Instantly, they stopped and turned to the lord's direction, straightening themselves and shuffling their hands to behind their backs. You know, like children caught stealing from a cookie jar.
Guilty, guilty, guilty.
Hop Pop bowed apologetically. "Sir Wigbert! Sorry for the commotion. It's just that my grandchildren have got some issues they need to sort out amongst themselves." He explained, feeling embarrassed himself. "We'll just leave..."
Sasha scowled. "No."
Straightaway, she stole the limelight and stepped forward. She glanced at Wally, then at Sprig, and finally, she stared at Lord Wigbert Ribbiton. "How about we settle this, right here and right now? Let's see how much of a 'great father' moustachio over here is." She said, pointing with her thumb.
Wigbert was taken aback. "M-m-me?"
Presenting the metaphorical microphone, all eyes fell towards the young one-eyed heir. Wally gulped and nervous sweat slipped from his forehead as suddenly, he was thrust into the centre of attention.
Wigbert looked at his son with concern. "Walliam?"
It was now or never.
"Dad..." he stepped forward. "Those business trips I've been telling you about? I... wasn't telling the full truth. Thing is..."
He took a breath and steeled himself. "There was no business trip. I wasn't expanding my connections with the locals in Frog Valley for business reasons; I was living as a vagrant. I wore poor clothing, ate poor people's food and gambled away my shoes like an idiot."
"And I loved it. The freedom and the anonymity – it was wonderful! The townsfolk call me 'One-Eyed Wally' and I became their go-to frog for whenever they wanted some tall tale or grand myth to tell. It became my passion!"
"That's... why I've been nervous about this whole inheritance and my friends and everything. I knew that someday, I had to come back. It's just... I wasn't ready to give it up just yet." Walliam—no, Wally sighed. "I'm sorry, dad."
Slowly, everyone turned towards Wigbert Ribbiton, bystanders and participants alike. It was hard to tell what he was thinking at the moment but there were minor changes in his expression. As the story continued, his eyes widened and pupils dilated. His cheeks would tighten ever so slightly, and one could see his jaws clenching by its tense muscles.
Wigbert was utterly quiet. Instead, he turned around and as silent as a Himalayan monk, left without a word.
"... Huh, I thought he'd explode or something."
Wally and for some reason, the Plantars, followed Wigbert. He didn't tell them to follow him or anything but with the deathly silence he was emanating, it seemed a given.
At least, that was the case for Wally. It was unsure why the Plantars were there; this was entirely a family issue and the Plantars were guests, not close relatives of the Ribbitons. It felt weird for them to join in but for the sake of the story, let's just ignore that.
After a few minutes of brisk walking, ignoring any and all guests and housekeepers on the way, the group eventually arrived to Wigbert's personal office – Wally's future office. It was everything you'd expect from an office of a rich frog; a large decadent desk in front of expansive windows, filled bookshelves lining the nearby walls and covering all manner of topics, sofas and other seating in the centre with a coffee table, cabinets and counters, and of course, the most important part: a collection of pricey wines and spirits, in case anyone wanted a de-stressing drink.
There was also a big half-body portrait of a modestly-dressed and surprisingly well-endowed frog lady, hung on one of its walls. Sasha may have awakened something in her but let's not get into that.
Entering the room, Wigbert grabbed a bottle – 150-year-old West-Amphibian cognac La Goutte D'or De Léonie – and poured himself a glass. He swirled the glass in his hands all sophisticated-like, inhaling the sweet, smooth and bitter aromas. Meanwhile, everyone else – that's Wally, Sasha, Sprig, Polly and Hop Pop – watched without a peep.
Wigbert watched the swirling motion of the amber drink, gradually as it slowed to that of a gentle wave. Afterwards, he placed the untouched glass back on the counter.
He then, in a single stroke, drank straight from the bottle.
"D-DAD!" Wally shrieked.
He rushed to his father and reached for the bottle, but Wigbert wasn't was no quitter. He was a prominent businessfrog, after all. He downed the bottle as quickly as he could, keeping his son from arm's reach with his leg. Wally pushed forward in an attempt to wrestle the bottle from his hands.
Meanwhile, the bystanders stood by and watched. Polly looked around, concerned. "Uh, should we do something?"
She didn't get a answer, instead seeing Hop Pop and Sprig's horrified faces and Sasha's bright-eyed gleeful one. Ooo, she didn't like that.
"Glug-glug-glug... Mmm, bah!" SMASH!
As the bottle finally emptied, he threw the container through the window, shattering and leaving a bottle-shaped hole in the glass.
"WOOOOOO! MY SON!" He jovially called, slinging his arm around him and pulling him to a hug. He then began caressing Wally's face. "My looovely, beeeaautiful s-s-sssson! I love you, soooo-SOOOO MUCH!"
"U-u-uh—"
"But my son… IS A VAGRANT!" Wigbert screamed, pushing Wally away without warning. "A VAGRANT! SLINGING MUD TO PASSERS-BY AND EATING FIGS FROM THE NEIGHBOUR'S TREES! SUCH HORRID BEHAVIOUR!"
"I-I didn't say anything about slinging mud, and I've never stolen any figs!" Wally pleaded, not that it did any good.
"But why, Wa-a-allaim?! Why have you chosen such a lifestyle?!" Wigbert cried, hiccuping between the tears. "W-was it me? Was I a bad father? A bad, dare I say it, entrepreneur?!"
As he wallowed in his tears, he crawled to the large portrait of the big-bosomed frog lady and there, ran his finger on the painting's surface. "Ohoho, Miriam! We're in for it now. Our son, I don't even recognise him anymore!"
He turned, his back lying on the portrait's wall, and looked to his son. "Walliam, why did you lie to me?!"
"Because—!" He prompted, followed by a defeated sigh. "Because I knew you wouldn't accept it. I knew you wouldn't accept the real me."
"Of course, I wouldn't! Who would?!" Wigbert argued. "You are the heir to the Ribbiton Ribbons empire, the next head of the family! You have an image to uphold, a name to maintain! You cannot afford to hang around with hoodlums and sycophants!"
He briefly turned to the guests. "No offence to you."
Hop Pop blinked. "Wait, what did he just call us?"
Wigbert ignored him and continued. "We are Ribbitons. We must live up to our family's legacy. We can't afford chasing dreams of wayward freedom and foolish nonsense."
"But being free is a part of me! I can't just throw it away." He insisted, almost pleading, his hands above his heart.
Wigbert stared and closed his eyes with a heavy sigh. Standing back up, his patted himself and straightened his clothes. "Then, it can't be help."
Wigbert walked up to Wally, standing perfectly vertical and looking at him dead in the eyes. Wally could smell the alcohol from his father's breath but his posture reflected none of it. It was as if he didn't drank him silly and had already recovered. Those Ribbitons and their superior magic kidneys.
"I'm giving you an ultimatum; accept your role as a Ribbiton. You'll be forbidden from leaving this town until I deem you proper, but you'll inherit the business and its privileges. Or—" He paused. "—continue your life as a vagrant. But you are not allowed to step even a single tongue's length into Ribbitvale."
Wally gasped. Exile or solitude, his choice. But before he could make that choice, he needed to know. "And what about Fiddle Leaf?"
Wigbert huffed. "Fiddle Leaf will stay with the estate. It's true that she was a gift from your mother but if you choose to run off, then you abdicate her from your possession."
"Noooo! You can't make me choose!"
"I am and you will." Wigbert slammed his cane like a bevel. "Decide, Walliam. What is more important to you?"
Wally was struck. He felt as if he was going to get a heart attack. He tried so hard to live both worlds and now, it was all crumbling down. But he knew he couldn't keep running. It was time to face the music.
Wally untied his ribbon and with teary eyes, threw it to the ground. That was his choice.
Wigbert was shocked, his eyes widened. Before he could say anything, Wally stormed out without looking back. He couldn't, otherwise he'd be second-guessing himself. He needed to stand with his decision, for better or worse.
SLAM! The door opened. Wigbert stared at the ribbon on his floor, unable to speak.
Did… Did he make a mistake?
While he contemplated on that, let's briefly return to the Plantars.
"WOOOOOOOO!" Sasha cheered, absolutely vindicated. "I knew it! I gosh-darn knew it! All parents are the same; the moment their kids acts out of their expectations, it's all downhill from there."
She turned to her in-universe best friend with an award-knowing smile. "See that, Sprig? I was right. Wally should've just lied to his dad. None of this would've happened if he just chose to lie. It was so simple!"
Sasha gloated, and gloated some more. It was like watching her old self come back to life, all because she was high off of being proven correct. However, she failed to notice what unfolded in front of her. Only when she calmed down, did it finally come to view.
In front of her, Sprig was crying.
"… Sprig?"
He didn't respond. Instead, he wiped his tears and before Sasha could reach out to him, he stormed out of the room, leaving the family behind. Sasha was left frozen in shock; she'd never seen Sprig cry like that before.
Nearby, Hop Pop glanced at the two, then at Polly, the only one uninvolved and in his arms. He coughed awkward. "We, uh, should be going." Hop Pop turned to Wigbert, who seemed sorrowful, and bowed slightly. "Thank you for the hospitality and, uh, sorry for the, well, everything."
Freeing a hand, he grabbed Sasha and rushed out of the office, leaving the businessman to ponder by his lonesome.
The next few minutes were strained. And that was an understatement.
After hurriedly retrieving Bessie and the fwagon from the Ribbiton's maintenance depot – yes, they had an entire building just for maintenance and repairs – the group of five headed straight to the front gate, no more dilly-dallying. With all that's occurred in this single day, none of them wanted to be here any longer than they should.
However, there was a minor change in their group dynamic. To be more precise, the group of five was now a group of six.
Sitting by the fwagon's window, Polly shouted. "Yo, Wally! Sorry about all of this. I mean, I wasn't involved but I kinda feel guilty."
Walking alongside the snail, Wally chuckled. "Heh, it's fine, little Polly. It was going to come out sooner or later. Nothing could've been done."
"What about your ladybug?"
"She'll be fine. I know my dad; he'll take care of her, no doubt." He said with confidence, though with a hint of sadness thinly layered on. "Anyway, thanks for letting me join you guys till we get to Newtopia. I'll make it up to you lot!"
Sitting in the driver's seat, Hop Pop waved him off. "It's off no issue, Wally. Think of it as an apology from us, considering we did get involved in your personal life." He said, though quieter on that last part. He then looked at the remaining two with a displeased frown. "I hope you two are happy with yourselves. 'Cause your behaviour was nothing short of shameful. I'm disappointed in you – in both of you."
Walking beside the snail, Sasha stared at the boy frog in front of her. Throughout the walk, he has been oddly quiet, uncharacteristic of his usual cheery self. Scratching her arm apprehensively, Sasha picked up her pace and strolled next to him, her hands now in her pockets. "S-Sprig! Yo, my bro! M-my best friend from another world! What's, uh, um... w-what's cracking-lacking?"
No reply.
Sasha coughed. "Um… Look, dude, I get that you're upset but this is just how it is, y'know? No need to fret about it."
"You were right."
Sasha blinked. "Huh?"
Sprig turned to her. Though his eyes were red from the crying, there were no more tears to shed. "You were right. Wally's dad didn't like Wally being the Wartwood weirdo. You were right. I just…" His lips pursed, looking downwards as he walked. "I just wished it was different. Aren't parent supposed to always support and care for their kid? That's part of being a parent, right? I always wanted to know what that was like but… I guess it's not as good as it sounds."
...
...
Well, fuck.
Sasha's face clenched, her veins popping and her teeth grinding to sparks. This will not end this way. She would never let it.
"DAAAAAAAGNABBIT!" Sasha roared with might and fury, spooking pretty much everyone in the nearby vicinity. With a wrathful growl, she spun towards Wally, her arms poised like the claws of a wild animal. The aforementioned frog's eyes widened and before he react, Sasha leapt at and grappled him, then began carrying him like a clutch.
"EEEEEEIIIII!" Wally shrieked daintily. "I'm being frognapped! Oh, the frogmanity!"
"SHUT UP, WALLY!" She barked.
"Okay."
She didn't bother to wait and explain. Immediately, she sprinted away with Wally in her arms, the frog flailing in the wind like a nation's flag. So taken by surprise, Hop Pop took a moment to react and pull Bessie's reins. He turned around and climbed over his chair; he could only watch as Sasha got further and further away.
"Sasha, where are you going?!"
Why answer? They'll figure it out soon enough. To Wally's surprise, she didn't go straight to the mansion as he thought. No, that would've been too obvious.
Instead, she headed straight to the peacocks.
"Wigbert, I've heard of the debacle with your son. I must ask; will this be affecting the recent announcement?" An aristocrat asked. He wasn't important enough to have a name but it'd be weird to not give him one, so let's call him Duke Franz Ferdinand.
Say hello to Franz.
"Hah..." Wigbert sighed. He was suppose to entertain guests in the ballroom but he didn't even bother to answer Franz. He just wasn't feeling it.
Thinking about it again, maybe a private discussion was better. Now he'd have to give a second announcement and that'd just be super awkward. His reputation would take a massive hit and this would undoubtedly plant seeds of doubt into the Ribbiton family but that's just expected in this line of business.
Yet, that's not what bothered him the most.
Wigbert stared at the swirling white wine – Ein Glas des Weißwein – in his hand. So much to do and so little time. He'll have to consider an heir soon but really, he couldn't think straight. Wally was all he had but what choice did he have now?
Maybe he could stage some sort of a hunger game...
CRASH! TWING! CRACK!
Loud noise suddenly appeared, snapping him out of his thoughts. Wigbert groaned. "Ugh, what is it now? I've already got a massive headache for the day and I don't need ano—"
PWOOMSH!
Suddenly, the wall to the ballroom smashed inwards. Expensive rubble and artisanal shards of glass flew all over, showering the guests with fear and priceless antiques. The noble frogs screamed and from the clouds of dust, a rather colourful shadow loomed.
"P-P-P-PEACOCK!"
It was chaos.
Just like Franz yelled, there was a peacock right in the doorstep of the mansion, its gigantic frame towering over everyone. The bird's lifeless eyes scanned the entire room, watching as all the frogs, rich and poor, ran around in a panic.
The peacock tilted its head, utterly expressionless. Despite the metaphorical fire in the opera, the bird did not react. No, it seemed as if it was examining the crowd and searching for something or someone. And to be fair, it was.
The peacock stepped forward, ignoring the frogs jumping out of the way of its sharp talons cracking the ceramic tiles. Not everyone was successful, unfortunately. Franz ended up becoming a piece of modern art.
Rest in peace, Franz. We hardly knew ya.
Reaching halfway across the room, it stopped just meters away from Wigbert, the rich frog on his back in abject fear. The bird bowed its head towards him, ready to peck him to gruel. Not only did he lose an heir but now, a peacock was about to rip him to shreds. Oh, could this day get any worse? At least he had health insurance.
It was then that he noticed, as it got lower, were two figures sitting on its back. His eyes widened. He knew that frog anywhere.
"Walliam?!" He called out, hastily getting back up. "What are you doing up there?!"
At the back of the peacock and holding its feathers tightly, Wally screamed back. "I'm not doing anything! I just got frognapped and now, I'm riding one of our prized peacocks!"
"Well, get off!"
"I would but Sasha's being really mean!"
Speaking of the devil, Sasha leapt off the peacock's back and landed right in front of Wigbert. Glaring at him with pink eyes, she growled.
"You."
Without a warning, Sasha grabbed Wigbert by his nouveau-rich collar and violently pulled him close.
"W-W-WAAAAH!" Wigbert screamed, looking away in terror. "Please, don't kill me! I have money!"
Sasha raised her hand.
SLAP!
On the bird, Wally gasped. Sasha just slapped his dad.
"Are you or are you not Wigbert Ribbiton of the Ribbiton family, owner of the Ribbiton Ribbons?!" She yelled, shaking him in her hands.
"I-I am!"
She then pointed at Wally. "And is that frog up there on the peacock not Walliam Ribbiton of the Ribbiton family, heir to the Ribbiton Ribbons, and also known as 'One-Eyed Wally' of Wartwood?!"
"I… I think so?"
SLAP!
"I m-mean, yes!"
"IS WALLIAM RIBBITON, ALSO KNOWN AS 'ONE-EYED WALLY', OF THE RIBBITON FAMILY, HEIR TO THE RIBBITON RIBBONS, OF YOUR FLESH AND BLOOD?!"
"H-HE IS!"
"AND YOU...!" Her voice raised but then, abruptly dropped. Wigbert watched as her expression changed from one filled with burning rage to one of melancholy. "… You're his dad, right?"
Slowly and gently, she put him down and kneeled to his height. "And he's your son – your one and only son."
Sasha glanced at Wally, his face mellowing as it calmed down. She chuckled at herself and turned back towards Wigbert with a smirk. "He's a bit weird and sometimes, borderline creepy. But for as long as I've been here, he was the one frog that didn't treat me like I'm some kind of a monster. Despite his shortcomings, he's… a good person."
On cue, Sprig, Hop Pop and Polly arrived on the scene, carefully climbing over the rubble and entering the destroyed ballroom. Sasha looked towards Plantars – towards Sprig – and sighed to herself.
"I… I don't have a good relationship with my parents. They always say they're too busy and when they're not, they just don't bother. And that's not even counting the yelling and the arguments and all that fake 'we love each other' / 'we weren't fighting' crud whenever they get caught."
She grabbed Wigbert's shoulder and squeezed. "But you? You're a good dad. Not the best dad by a long shot but compared to mine, you're a good dad. I know that you don't like Wally's choice and frankly, I also think him wanting to be a crazed hobo is stupid, but…" She paused and closed eyes for a second. "At the end of the day, he's still your son and he loves you a lot."
Did he? Wigbert looked towards his son and the way he looked back was enough of an answer. Sasha took a step back and patted the peacock on its legs. On command, the colourful bird lowered itself to a loaf and Wally jumped off. Just as he landed, Wigbert ran up and embraced him.
"Oof! A bit touchy there, dad." Wally said.
Wigbert didn't care. He hugged his son tightly and only after a while, did he let go. "Walliam—no, Wally, I..."
Wally shushed him. "It's okay, dad. A-and you can still call me Walliam. I still am, actually. It's just... I'm just as much as Wally as I am Walliam. And I wanted you to accept both of me and be able to be me, wherever I am."
The two shared a hug. No excess words were needed to describe it.
A minute later, Wally let go but then, pulled his father by the arm. "Come on, let's go get you an ice pack."
Wigbert nodded. "Yes, my cheek is a tad sore." He said, rubbing his poor and abused face.
"Hey, if it makes you feel better, you can hit me back." Nearby, Sasha offered with a smirk.
An attractive offer, yet Wigbert refused, raising his palm. "Oh, I could never—"
"But I could!"
SMACK!
As instincts rose with reckless abandon, Wally punched Sasha in her undefended and squishy stomach. Despite being the one to offer, Sasha was completely unprepared for the assault and as a result, she jerked forward with a pained expression and instantly, fell to the ground, clutching her poor digestive system.
TWACK! "GAHK!"
Wally then kicked her while she was down. You know, as a treat.
"THE FIRST ONE WAS FOR SLAPPING MY DAD, AND THE SECOND WAS FOR FROGNAPPING ME!"
To top it off, he finished with a loving kiss her on the forehead.
"And that's for everything else." Wally coo'ed.
Somehow, that last one was the worst.
Wally and Wigbert, son and father, walked away. They stood side-by-side, their arms locked in a hook and their skips full of merry. Sasha squirmed from the pain on her body and the wetness on her forehead. Ugh, why was it so wet?
Thankfully, she wasn't alone. Sprig rushed to her side, falling to his knees. "Sasha, are you alright?! Say something!"
"I see... a light..."
"DON'T GO TO IT!"
Thankfully, she didn't. Recovering quickly, she rubbed her pained stomach. It hurt but she was mostly overreacting. After a few seconds of breathing, Sasha turned towards Sprig.
"Hey, Sprig? I'm sorry." She said guiltily. "This whole time, I may have projected a bit with my own folks. The truth is: you were right. Not everyone's parents suck and I know yours... were good."
She chuckled, though cringing in pain. "I mean, they did make a squirt like you." She playfully mocked.
Not that it worked. Sprig saw right through it and wrapped his arms around her. "Thanks, Sasha."
It was a scene enough to make a grown man cry, and it did for some nerd living in South East Asia. But as heart-warming as the two reconciled, it seemed unfair to ignore the other members of this entourage, equally vital in the development of today's events. Let's go check up on them and see how they're faring.
Hop Pop looked at his granddaughter and raised both brows. "Polly, are you crying?"
"NO! I'M SWEATING THROUGH MY EYES!"
Wonderful.
Alas, as funny and charming as they were, these farmers and their rabid teenage girl were not the main characters of this tale. The father-son duo of the Ribbitons held that title, at least for now. Although their conflicts have been resolved, there's still a lot more left in their future. It'll be a long journey but as with all roads, it's best taken one step at a time.
"Son... tell me more about your business travels."
"Well, I currently live in the small town of Wartwood – nice place, by the way. Love the people. – and from to time, I'd play music at the eateries with my accordion."
"You have an accordion?"
"Never leave home without it."
"Haha! You know, I used to play the jug myself. In fact, I woo'ed your mother with my jug-blowing skills. I'd say I'm a pretty good blower."
"No way."
"I did! In fact, why don't I play you a song? All I need is a jug. I think I have a few stashed in here somewhere."
One step at a time.