Anyone who’s had children knows that they can be pure evil incarnate. But the flip side is, they can also embody an innocence so pure that it is blinding. What they don’t have, in either case, is any common sense whatsoever. That’s why they do stuff like happily approach hordes of evil monsters, even when the monsters are bristling with weaponry and carrying banners depicting skulls (and sometimes just carrying piles of actual skulls). Then the wee ones ask, in polite twee voices (with, perhaps, just a bit of a lisp), whether the monsters would like to play?
Whether the Childrens’ intentions are good or ill, the result is the same: few can resist the Childrens’ devastatingly winsome charms. In an astoundingly short time and using atrocious but adorably mangled grammar, the Children often convince not a few of their foes to join them. And once they do, these former foes are ferocious in their defense of the cute widdle childwen. It’s quite nauseating.
The Small Children are the sort of problem which evil lords are ill-equipped to deal with. Too small to take notice of on their own, the Small Children can rapidly snowball into a colossal headache for a Duke as legions of evil troops are swayed to the side of the munchkins. More than one evil Duke has seen powerful armies turned against themselves by the Children, to wither like grass in the sun in internecine slaughter, and all because some neglectful parents couldn’t keep their eyes on their damn brats for five minutes. Five minutes! Is that too much to ask? We’re having a war, here, people! Keep your kids out of the way!