In a small thatched cottage in the Gildor countryside, a man of adventure and a beautiful ex-princess; who had been brought together, split apart, and brought back together again by true love; were sitting down to for the evening meal. The former princess of Florin had easily fit back into the rural lifestyle. In truth, she could have fit easily into any lifestyle as long as it involved her husband. A plump roast goose slid from her stove. She carried it with thickly mittened hands to the oak table where her man sat, oozing anticipation. Even after these few years of living together, they still smiled when they caught each other’s eye. The husband picked up the sharp carving knife and set to his work, slicing the goose breast into neat layers on a plate. From the corner of the room, a mewling arose. A little wooden cradle lay heaped with blankets, the baby inside newly awakened. Both rose as one to go to the child. They peered into the cradle, the wife reaching for the girl infant. She fell silent as soon as she felt the security of mother’s hands. In an instant, a sharp crack rent the door to splinters, pieces of lumber tumbled to the floor. Suddenly, soldiers were in the doorway. Steel helmed, swords drawn, they stormed into the room. The husband sprang to the hearth before the last splinter of the door landed and drew a deadly rapier from it’s scabbard before the soldiers could locate the occupants of the house. The husband drew his wife behind him and held the blade out toward the door. “I think you have the wrong house,” he smirked at the men in thickly padded armor. “You want the bandit’s lair three farms over.” The men looked confused for a moment, almost as if they might leave. Then he came in. Hair as black as raven’s wing, dressed in pompous finery and carrying a most arrogant bearing. Unmistakably... Humperdink. “Westley...” Buttercup whispered. “Fear not, my love. This vomit bag cannot harm us. He has the courage of a beaten dog, remember.” Despite his assurances, Buttercup clutched her daughter closer. “I’m afraid you are mistaken,” said Humperdink, uttering each word as though it were a grand speech to a crowd of hundreds. “I can harm you, assuming I was the one referred to as vomit bag, and I intend to.” Five soldiers in the room already, three more came through the door. All three armed with crossbows.