Day One-Thirty-Six: Shiny

Back to the grind, as they say, diary. I am guard, hear me snore.

I gotta say, though, I have a different perspective on my position. Not because it's changed - how can you change standing around? - but because the captain has changed. The captain is a writer. He writes. I am also a writer, and I also write! That is a coincidence I could use to my advantage, diary.

I asked Robert about it last week, and he said that the captain often comes into the library after his shifts (unlike me - I usually go in DURING my shifts) to read. He doesn't talk with Robert much, and he's even worse than me about sharing what he's written, though Robert says he goes into the library almost every day without fail, scribbling away in a little pad of parchment.

I'm so damn curious, diary. I want to know what he writes. Is it a diary, like me? Or is it a novel? Maybe some non-fiction thing? Or could the captain be a sweet poetry-lovin' kinda dude? Robert couldn't say.

So I went to the source. Figured that the captain would open up to a fellow writer, if no one else, and be honest about his work. I was soooooo wrong.

"Listen to me, you little piece of snot," he started, after hefting me into the air - he's a buff guy, diary, "I don't know how you found out. I also don't care. Well," and he paused, "actually I guess I do. How the hell'd you find out?"

"Robert. Can you let me down, please, cap'n?"

"Shut up." He rubbed his chin. "Which Robert? The candle guy?"

"No, the librarian."

"Yeah, that makes sense." He spat. "Never shoulda showed him that… well, nevermind. You!" He tightened his grip, and I'm fairly sure my face went blue. "You just shut the hell up about writing. As far as you know, I don't write squat. Got it?!"

"Y… y…"

"Good enough." He tossed me on the ground. "Stop wasting time. You're on escort duty this week. The weather's shit 'n the queen needs more cover. You're gonna take the builders out with Bernard, make sure they don't get eaten on the way. Not that you could do a hell of a lot, you useless wimp. Go it?"

I got it. He left, and after I caught my breath, so did I - we'd been standing in the middle of a corridor, and my pride was pretty damn wounded after being stripped down in front of a couple dozen people. (You'd think the captain would wanna be secretive about his writing, maybe take me off somewhere to talk. Go fig.)

So that's that. Starting tomorrow, I'm gonna be helping shuttle supplies from the castle to the queen's tree. That's fine - I like visiting the queen. And my birthday's coming up, with the big surprise, so maybe this week won't be bad at all!

… still wonder about the captain's writing, though. What's he got that's so important he needs to write it down? Hmmmm.

Sincerely,

Dragomir the Guard