Day One-Fifty: NOOOOOoooooooo

Oh sweet gods of the universe, why do you forsake me? WHY DO YOU HATE POOR LITTLE DRAGOMIR? WHAT DID I DO TO YOU?! I WILL MURDER ROBERT WITHIN AN INCH OF HIS LIFE, I DON'T CARE IF THAT MAKES NO SENSE IT WILL BE DONE

Libby just hit me and told me to calm down, 'cause I wore a hole through this page of the diary. She also reminded me, as if I could forget, that we have GUESTS, hence the reason we're sleeping on the FLOOR tonight, and I need to keep quiet. GUESTS, DIARY. THAT WAS ROBERT'S BIG EFFING BIRTHDAY SURPRISE, GUESTS.

I'm huffing. If I'm not careful Libby will hit me again, and even worse… he… might… wake up… and do the same… and do it even harder…

Okay. Okay. Here we go. "What happened today, Dragomir?" I'll answer that question.

As you know, diary, last night I took Captain Cedric out to dinner, got him drunk, discovered his deep, dark insecurities, and then took on the job of watching over the ballot room for the vote. Remember the vote to see if a fortress would be built outside the castle walls? Yeah, that's finished now, and I did my duty.

This morning, I got up as early as I could, 'cause the vote was set to take place from 7 'til 10. Any male (or Eve) who tried to submit a ballot after that time would be ignored. A big polling station was set up in a tent outside the main castle, and everybody who could vote showed up and ticked off a 'yes' or a 'no' on a stone using a piece of chalk. (Castle doesn't want to waste that much parchment.) Then some of the castle's deliverymen would bring boxes of the stones back to the treasury for counting later in the day.

I, sadly, did not get to vote. I had to watch the treasury, making sure that ABSOLUTELY NO ONE went inside. Those were my strict orders from The Baron, who looked quite happy to see me standing guard. So I guess I'm not democratic yet. Some day, maybe…

All was going well up until the veeeeeeery end of the third hour. The majority of the votes were in the room, and only I had gone inside, mostly to shove the boxes back to make more space.

That's when I heard a voice, none other than Robert's, as he came around the corner. "Here you are, Dragomir! I've been looking all over for you. The hell are you doing?"

"I'm watching the ballot room, dummy." I rolled my eyes. "You do know there's a vote on today, right?"

"'course I do. Didn't think you were involved, though." Which means he has a terrible memory, 'cause he was IN THE BEEFIARY last night when Captain Cedric put me in charge. "Never mind that now! I've got your surpriiiiise!"

My heart leaped. Friday! Yes, it was Friday, and Friday was the day of the surprise. I'd completely forgotten, wrapped up as I was in responsibility! In my sudden glee I nearly ran off to hug Robert.

I managed to restrain myself, though, the murderous image of the captain suddenly clouding my enthusiasm, and I stayed where I was. "Seriously?! Now? Here? Awesome! C'mon, what is it? Show me, show me, show me."

"Not what," said Robert with a wink, "but who! SURPRISE!" And he stepped aside to let two people through.

Two people I knew. Two people I know. Two people who had raised me, and cared for me, and told me I would be a guard in the first place - two people who said writing was for utter fools, especially if those fools were meant to be guards.

Two people who were, and still are, and always will be, my parents.

I'm sure that, as soon as my dad came into view, the life in my eyes died. Just a little. No, hell, it probably died a LOT, 'cause the sight of that one-armed, farm-bred giant has always represented terror and disappointment in my life, ever since I first told him that I wanted to be a writer. "Dragomir," he'd said, "you’re gonna be a guard. That’s your damn name. Dragomir the Guard. We didn’t call you Dragomir the Fucking Poofy Writer Boy. Get your head out of your butt and beat your friends with a stick, you need to work on those flimsy biceps of yours."

Terror, diary.

Mom's okay. She brought cookies.

"Dragomir, my boy!" The old man scowled, towering over me even at a distance. "I see you're still a normal guard. After two goddamned years, you're still just a guard. Guess I shouldn't have expected anything else from such a mewling piss ant."

"Hello, dear!" My mother beamed, far more radiant than the bear standing at her side. "It's nice to see you're working. And as a guard, no less! Have you gotten my letters? I got a few from you, but they're so long in coming, and I hate waiting."

"Stop coddling the brat." My father smacked me, and down I went. "The hell is this? You're guarding a room full of rocks? Bloody twit. I think he went mad, Martha, he's guarding rocks."

"Well if he went mad then it's your fault, Oswald!" Mom hugged me. "You were always so rough on him, it's no wonder he's got a few screws loose in his poor noggin. That's a nice helmet, by the way, dear. A bit pointy."

"I'm not crazy!" I tried to pull away, but my mom is surprisingly strong for her age. "This is an election, and-"

"Don't be daft, people don't have elections outside the Imperium. Elections! What a twit. Why, when I was your age, democracy was downright illegal, and anybody who even TALKED-"

Aaaaand so it went. They jabbered on, my father beat me, my mother coddled me, Robert watched it all with a face that expressed his UTTER GLEE at the situation, and we got further… and further… and further away from the voting room. By the time I realized how far I'd gone from my post, I was halfway down the next hall over!

I managed to shove them away and told them I'd see them later, and Robert took them to meet Libby. I scurried back to my post -

- and, sure enough, The Baron was standing there. It felt like most of my innards had just seeped down into my breeches, 'cause I thought for sure that I'd be executed for such a huge foulup.

The Baron wasn't angry, though. He dusted some chalk off his hands and smiled at me. "Hello, Dragomir. It appears that your reputation as worst of the worst remains as constant as ever."

"B… B… B…" I stuttered, knees knocking off each other.

He laughed and patted my shoulder. "Don't you worry, Dragomir, you did fine. Your work here is finished, my friend; you can go spend time with your family. The counters will do the rest."

And he shooed me away, slipping two gold coins in my pocket.

So that went okay. And the vote went The Baron's way, so there won't be a fortress built outside the castle. He did admit that the queen SHOULD be under better guard, though, and I've heard he's recommending they look for a way to transplant her tree inside the castle grounds. I'd like that.

Bet Driscol the Count's right pissed at the development. Or lack of development. Take that, you wanker.

But that's not enough to please me, diary. Not near enough at all. 'cause now my parents are spending the night, in MY room, in MY bed, while Libby and I sleep on MY floor - though my father did offer to let her sleep with them. I'm glad she said no, I don't trust that old bastard.

My parents.

Here.

For three days.

Happy fucking birthday.

Life… just, why, life,

Dragomir the Son