Day Six: Is that yak I smell?

Hello again, diary! I hope you had a lovely weekend. I know I did. I don’t remember why I had a lovely weekend, of course, and I never do. I think the whole castle just goes into a coma for two days. That’s fine, since I don’t have to guard anything when I’m in a coma.

I do wonder if King Jeffrey should at least post a few guards on the weekends, though. It’s elephant season. They’re dangerous beasts. If we came back on Monday and the guards were dead, then we'd know to be more careful, right? It's good logic.

Anyway. Since I couldn’t not write in you last week, I figured I’d just keep writing this week. I can have a diary and still be a responsible father, I figure. It doesn’t take that long to jot down notes – just a couple minutes each night. I can put up with yellow dust and coughing if it means writing. I look forward to this moment every day, now.

I’ve been assigned to the mess hall this week. The captain caught me watching kids play kick ball in the bailey when I should have been watching for elephant herds from the battlements. He said if I wanted to watch maggots, he’d give me maggots. He must not think much of my brother’s food.

That’s a shame, too. My brother’s the best cook in Castle Hammerknocker. True, he only makes three different meals, but they’re all really good. So good that I hear the king always comes down to eat in the mess hall rather than having his food delivered. I’ve also heard that the king likes everything as fast as he can get it, so maybe I’m making Robert’s cooking out to be more than it is. Our king is weird.

Robert dragged me aside today and told me that he’s got something special planned, and he’s gonna need me to help him. I’m not sure if I trust him when he says ‘special’. Robert was always a prankster when we were growing up. Hell, he told me he was Robert the Duke for almost five years when we were young. I thought he was just a really poor nobleman who knew how to cook. Guess he got me there.

Talk to you later, diary. The rats are hissing at me. I think they can smell dead rodent on my clothes. It’s always wafting out of Robert’s kitchen. Would be like me walking into a store covered in human ears, or something.

Sincerely,

Dragomir the Guard