Day One Hundred-Thirteen: Transcriptio

I could describe what happened today, diary, but I think a more or less straight transcript of the conversation I had with Grylock and his, uh, 'associate' will do.

Logan: I call this meeting to order. Here here!

Grylock: Unnecessary. This isn't the court, brat.

Me: Don't call him brat, he's the prince!

Logan: Brat's fine. I like this midget, he has spunk. We should fight some day. Dragomir can stand in for me.

Me: Hey!

Grylock: This is all beside the point. We're here to discuss revenge on the king. And put down that jug, brat, you're not old enough to drink.

Logan: Pfft, I drink all the time. My wife-to-be loves the stuff.

Me: WHAT! SHE'S NOT EVEN A YEAR OLD!

Grylock: Shut up, will you?! This is supposed to be a secret meeting. And we're off track, so deal with your issues somewhere else. I want to get back at that bastard you call a father.

Logan: But my grandparents are married.

Grylock: Not THAT kind of bastard. Anyway… how can I get to the king's room so I can stab 'im in his kidneys?

Me: YOU CAN'T DO THAT!

Logan: Agreed. I'd rather you not off my dad, even though he is an ass.

Grylock: What if I just removed one of his arms?

Me: That's still a capital offense! I'd have to try and stop you, and if I did you'd probably win, and then I'd die! I don't like that outcome, ambassador!

Logan: You're such a wuss, dad.

Me: Don't CALL me that. I'm not finished on the whole my-daughter-getting-married-to-you thing. How did-

Grylock: ENOUGH! I am tired of your BICKERING! Tell me, dear prince of the realm, how I can WOUND YOUR FATHER WITHOUT RISKING EXECUTION!

Logan: Well, considering the laws, you can't do much of anything to my dad without putting your head on the chopping block at the same time. And, yeah, I'd PREFER you not hurt him, either. That's my job, 'cause I won't be killed.

Grylock: Then what do YOU suggest? You're infamous for messing with people. That's one of the reasons I brought you in here tonight. That and your well-known dislike of the king.

Logan: I'm honoured. Well, there's always his hair.

Grylock: His hair?

Logan: Sure. Had the idea earlier, when I was watchin' the old man get his beard trimmed. If you can call that mess of face pubes a beard. He's always fussing over that thing, 'cause he thinks he has to one-up your King Gok. They've been at it for a long time.

Grylock: Yes… yes! My lordship always WAS most amused about your father's utter inability to grow proper facial hair.

Me: This is sounding illegal again.

Grylock: Quiet, you. So, young brat, you suggest we… what?

Logan: Duh. Shave the beard. It'll talk him months to regrow that much hair. We sneak into the tower, late at night - I know a secret way up the tower, so that's no problem - and snip him clean. He won't wanna come out of his room for weeks. Revenge enough for you, short stuff?

Grylock: I'd love to paddle his rear and leave him to endure the winter winds for a month or five, but yes, I think that will do.

Me: Well, then, I guess you don't need me, do you? I'll just be off-

Grylock: You're coming, or you're keeping one eye open when you sleep from now on. I wasn't always an ambassador, Dragomir.

I'll be meeting them tomorrow evening, shortly after the king's gone to bed and the castle's closed down, to join in Operation Beard-Be-Gone.

Drat,

Dragomir the Soon-To-Be-Imprisoned-Probably-Again