Day One Hundred-Fourteen: Scandalous

Well, the shit certainly hit the windmill today, diary. As I write there's a contingent of soldiers patrolling the castle - I'm, ah, technically one of them, though what's the point when I KNOW where the perpetrators are? - and the king is… is…

Well. You probably think he's dead. He's not. But he IS really, really, REALLY pissed. Pissed enough that just about everyone in Castle IWillMurderYouAll heard him screaming.

I met Prince Logan and Grylock as planned, just after the last of the servants shuffled off to their beds for the night and the guards set about their rounds, and we set out for the king's tower. I've been that way plenty of times, diary, but tonight was different, 'cause I knew we were doing something illegal, and that's enough to make every little shadow seem more menacing.

After we passed through the nobles' district and edged our way past a few patrolling royal guards - those Omega Corps bastards never seem to take a break, so thank the gods for Prince Logan and his hidden passages - we found the secret entrance to the tower, a wall with a torch set in it, not unguarded as we'd expected. No, it was just our luck that a freaking guard was stooped in front of it.

Captain Cedric. His armour removed, scratching himself. Damn but he's a hairy man.

He wasn't about to stop us, so Prince Logan shimmied his way across the… ceiling… and dropped a potted plant on the captain's head. Knocked him out in an instant. I pushed him a few feet away - couldn't take him back to his quarters, that damn dog of his would have me for lunch - and we went up, up, up a series of rickety old stairs I never would knew existed otherwise, Grylock's torch our only source of light, Logan laughing all the way about how funny his dad would look without a beard.

But then we saw the king, after bypassing two more royal guards and the door to the royal chambers. And he was with a woman, snoozing in her arms.

I've mentioned Queen Daena lots of times, diary. She's a real nice lady, and a great queen, considering she's stuck in a tree. So I'd be the first person to say that she doesn't deserve to be slighted, especially not by her husband, and ESPECIALLY not in secret. (Dunno what the king would do alone in bed with a woman anyway, but I DO know it's a BIG DEAL.)

I wasn't the really upset person, though. That was Logan. As soon as he saw the king nestled up with some blonde-haired dame, his little cocksure smile vanished, and his eyes, even in the dark, became almost murderous.

He didn't kill his father. He didn't hurt his father. But in the following seconds, seconds in which Grylock and I more or less didn't participate, Logan zipped across the room, hair clippers in hand, and darted around the king in a whirlwind frenzy that I couldn't hope to follow. That kid's level of dexterity is damn near inhuman, I tell you, and I swear that he managed to knock the king's flailing body into the air at least three times.

And when he'd finished? King Jeffrey, proud bearer of stubble most regal, was completely and utterly hairless. His son had somehow managed to remove every hair from the king's body, be it owned by head or brow or belly. I don't know how low Logan went, and some things should probably remain a mystery.

We fled. The alarm went up. Grylock ran back to his room to 'sleep', Prince Logan vanished, and I… I'm hiding in a storeroom, surrounded by old candles, writing in you, diary. I'm a wanted man, though the king apparently didn't see any of us, so I think I'm safe.

Huh. I guess you count as evidence now, diary.

…

Dragomir the Fugitive