Day Thirty-Three: Midnight on the firing line

The captain found me in the rat farms today, diary. He beat me up and told me to watch from the walls during lulls in the siege. It’s hard to watch with my eyes all puffy, but I’m trying my best.

The attack continues. The goblins are quiet right now. I think they ran outta rocks, but I’ve seen their trolls wandering the plains way in the distance, so it’s only a matter of time before they get more. I wish we lived in an area with less rocks. Like the arctic, or... something.

But then I guess they'd throw ice. And giant snowballs. The snowballs would be more fun than this, at least. Maybe wars would be less violent if they turned into snowball fights? Something to think about.

Everyone’s contributing to the defense of the castle. Robert's working double shifts at the mess hall - he’s calling it the Beefiary, now, since he doesn’t really have anything on hand but beef - and Libby’s been churning out arrows at lightning speed to replace the ones we lose over the wall. (I didn’t even know she was a fletcher, but there you go.) Even Philip the Ghost’s been helping out, wandering around the goblin camps and tossing globs of mud at ‘em. Good show, Philip.

Everyone but me. I haven’t been doing much of anything, other than watching over the walls. I yell ‘Heads up!’ whenever a boulder’s coming, which I guess is valuable, but now that everyone knows to look for the things there’s about a dozen other people doin’ the same job. Why bother?

So, yeah, I’ve been sneakin’ off. As usual. I’m no good at my job, so I might as well do something else - which, in my case, is taking care of Eve. With Libby busy someone needs to watch the baby. Eve hasn’t tried to get out of her special bassinet yet, so all I need to do is feed her and change her every now and then. Lucky me, she’s pretty calm about all this.

Just have to keep her away from weapons...

We’re in the rat farms right now, diary. Eve is watching the rats, they’re watching her back, and I’m writing in you, listening to the patter of rain in the entrance tunnel.

I wish I was back home, diary, back before I got this stupid guard job. Castle FiddleDeeDee isn’t nearly as nice as the farm. Even if the farm is where my folks live. I'd rather have dad screaming at me than goblins firing boulders at my face.

Yellow dust is gross,

Dragomir the Guard