Day One-Forty-Nine: Confessions of the Pitch and Wasted

WOW. The captain is a damn liberal guy when he's drunk, diary, I kid you not. I learned more of interest tonight than I think I have at any other time in my life, and that includes the time I talked to the other-dimensional manifestation of Philip the Guard when I was visiting those ruins outside Goblinoster, during my epic journey to cure the castle of foulfungus.

Wait. I was trying not to think about all that nonsense. Hell, it's been so long that it hardly feels like that happened at all!

I wasn’t about to stupidly screw up with Captain Cedric, so I met him at 7 p.m. on the dot, in the Beefiary. He likes to sit on the edge of the eating area, so I knew exactly where to wait - and, true to form, he came in exactly on time. I greeted him, he grunted at me, and I shelled out some coin for fancier digs as Cedric ordered the best stuff they had. (I stuck with the cheap, free stuff.)

Thank the gods Robert's my brother and gives me discounts, 'cause Cedric ordered a lot. The dude's got quite an appetite when somebody else is paying, and he bought more servings of fresh, good-quality, imported vegetables (the home grown stuff sucks) than anybody I've ever seen in the Beefiary. And the way he ate! He's a monster.

The same can't be said of his drinking, though. I've never seen Cedric downing alcohol before, and at first he rebuffed Robert's offers of booze. (Robert was fascinated by this whole dinner thing as well.) Pretty soon Robert's golden tongue had a cup of ale in Cedric's meaty fist, though, and he was hiccupping like mad, talking away about his job. That was great to hear, 'cause when the evening started all he'd done was eat, eat, eat.

He was getting drunk WAY faster than I would've thought, though, and I quickly figured out why: Robert was lightly dipping the veggies in ale before he sent them out to Cedric, just lightly enough that Cedric didn't notice the change in taste. Hell, after one drink I guess he couldn't have tasted the difference anyway. Before I knew it he was singing and laughing, and everybody still in the Beefiary was watching our table.

It wasn't until about an hour after we'd started talking, however, that he got down to the juicy details.

"Dragomir," he said, licking one of his celery sticks like it was an ice cream cone, "you're married. Right? Got a… hick… got a nice filly with ya?"

"Yep, sure do, chief." I kept changing his title throughout the night to see if he would get mad. After a while, Cedric didn't care WHAT I called him.

"Good… good for you." He slapped his hand down on the table. "Love's IMPORTANT. It's a, a, a BIG DAMN DEAL. You know? Big effing deal. MORE BROCCOLI, YOU WHORESON!"

"On it, cap'n!" Robert called, clearly enjoying himself.

"Yeah. Where… where was I?"

"Love, I think, sport."

"Oh yeah. LOVE!" The captain roared the last word, throwing up his arms. "Love. Ever… ever since that… that FUCKIN'… kang… kang… that stupid… what the HELL are they called, Dragofuck?"

"Kangaroos."

"Yeah! That son of a BITCH!" Cedric grabbed a potato and flung it towards the ceiling. It veered far from the intended target and bopped a passing peasant on the head. "That, that, that bastard! He took… he took my thing, you know? That's so BAD! Bit it RIGHT OFF. Do you… do you wanna see the scar?"

"Nooooooo, that's okay, boss."

"Right." He hiked up his pants again. "Point is, I'm… I'm not… I'm not much of a fucking man anymore, Dragofuck. Not… I mean, I… and I… and the poetry, it's just… you know, I write poetry, right?"

Bit my lip. "Nooooope, didn't know, tiger."

"I do. I do. I… I should bring it here, show… you…" Belch. "I like po... poetry. It's my SOUL on PAPER, you know? Helps me… cope… with so much shit." He started to cry. "Never gonna have a woman, Dragofuck, never. Love ain't… no, never, Dragofuck, never!"

I've been a lot of weird places, diary, and done a lot of weird things. Grew up on a farm; got chased by a bull; got attacked by a bandit, which I shouldn't mention here; guarded a bridge that dices people into bloody chunks; went on a huge adventure to save my castle; nearly got bedded by a zombie princess; endured captivity by the goblins; ventured into some ruins and saw a ghostly vision of a former guard; TELEPORTED back to the castle; and, uh, other things have happened too. You're getting the point - I've led an odd life, especially in the last few months.

So when I say that watching Captain Cedric blubber over a plate of alcohol-dabbed vegetables was the weirdest thing I've ever had to do, you better know I'm being truthful.

"All I got is work!" The captain knocked his plate aside. "Work, 'n that… that fuckin' dog! And he hates my… my guts, you know? I mean, sure, I hit him a couple times a day, but he bites me back so we should be square, yeah?"

"Yeah, I guess so, champ." I shrugged. The hell am I supposed to say to something like that?

The captain belched again, then hunched his shoulders and stared gloomily into his mug of ale. "Ain't… never gonna have me a wife, Dragofuck. I'm just a big screwup. Hell, I gotta… the vote tomorrow, 'n… here I am, gettin' all liquored up… gonna lose my job 'cause I can't… can't watch over…"

"Can't watch over what, slugger?"

Cedric dipped his head into his vegetables for a moment, deep in drunken thought. Then he straightened and pointed at me, a measure of comprehension on his face. "But… but you! You could! Hey, DragoFuck, do me a favour, yeah? Will… burp… will ya?"

He was leaning in so close that I had no choice but to agree. Gods did he smell bad.

"Tomorrow… y'know the big vote tomorrow? Gonna… I was supposed to guard… watch the room with all the… the ballots, 'n shit… but I suck with booze, I guess… could… could you watch it for me? Make sure… make sure nobody sneaks in and fucks with th'votes?"

I slumped with relief. I was half expecting him to ask me to keep him company in bed that night or something. "Yeah, sure, of course. Killer."

Captain Cedric wiped his tears away, and for the first and possibly ONLY time, he smiled at me, an expression that I found much scarier than his normal scowl. Then he called over another guard - Morris, a nice fellow, if a bit stupid - and authenticated that he was giving me his shift before passing out. We had to drag him back to his room, and we passed the time by discussing how he seemed to be much harrier than usual.

So tomorrow, I guess I've got a rather important post: guard the ballot room, which I've discovered is not far from the treasury. That's quite a promotion! Good for me, diary!

… still. Poor Captain Cedric.

Sincerely,

Dragomir the Guard