Day One-Eighty-Four: Nothing's sacred anymore

I feel very uncomfortable with myself today, diary. Very uncomfortable. I'm still working in the service of the realm, or whatever, but... like... I read somebody else's mail. That's harsh.

It's one thing to steal into your captain's room and root around in his junk, looking for a poem. Okay? That's totally different, and I feel bad about it, but I was trying to help him. Okay? Okay? Okay. So it's not as bad. We're settled. Done deal.

Reading this piece of mail… it didn't help the person. It didn't help me, either, even when I copied down the contents. It's just not RIGHT to steal glances at someone else's correspondence! OR copy stuff down! There's private stuff in letters! I mean, if I sent one to my mom, and it was about my weird dander phobia

Better explain. I'm starting with the end of the story. That's dumb. Most books don't work that way. And if they did I wouldn't wanna read 'em, 'cause I'd get all confused. Don't need a brain cramp as a memento of reading a backwards book.

After the investigation of the nobles' apartments yesterday - which, I should add, didn't turn up a DAMN THING about this stupid murderer, though maybe I'm just impatient - the majority of the castle's aristocracy wanted to lay low in their quarters. There was a hell of a lot less movement in the hallways, and not much got done.

Same couldn't be said of Driscol. He stayed in his apartment, sure, but he had people going in and out of his place all the time. Whenever he peeked out he looked more and more suspicious, and not in the I-don't-trust-him-sense, but the something-is-up-I-can-smell-it-in-the-air sense. He was on to something.

For a solid five hours he had nothing for me to do. I stood outside his quarters and slept. The paintings in the nobles' wing aren't so interesting that I could stare at 'em and NOT fall asleep, 'cept maybe some of the nudes. I got woken up, though, when Driscol came out and tapped me on the arm. (Good thing he did that before seein' me, too, otherwise I'd have gotten an earful.)

He handed me an envelope. "You. Take this letter to Lady Evangelina."

I turned it over. No seal. "What is it?"

"That's none of your damned business! Get on it!" Door slam. Didn't even give me a tip.

I'd seen plenty of Evangelina's front door by this point, so I wandered through the corridors for a couple minutes 'til I got there. Nobody in sight, not even a guard. Guess she's not important enough to be protected.

And that's when the idea hit me. The compulsion. The ugly, despicable suggestion that I… I… look in the envelope. Because that's what spies do, and by gods, diary, I am currently a spy. It's my job!

But...

But it's also so wrong.

But I did it anyway. 'cause, y'know, I didn't wanna disappoint The Baron, and I knew we had to find out what was up, and I was absolutely sure that this letter could be the key to unravelling Driscol's sinister plot. So I hid, and I made sure nobody was watchin', and by the gods I slid open the envelope and gave the letter a gander.

And what did it say…? Well, here's a little tidbit from the beginning:

'Gling Flobber,

Wakka wakka hey, the long shaft of flobberdeegoo is winging wong upon swing sets of yonder. Still walketh to shore of yalla poo poo, ting mouchi hoo blartz and a package of zing. Raid the cupboards all love, and the maze of ooooopraminium.'

It goes on like that for five paragraphs. It's signed 'Robertomoondeesquib' at the bottom, in a huge, dramatic flourish.

...

That's one hell of a code, I gotta tell ye, diary. One HELL of a code. I'm sure it means something, but what? Got me. Gave me the same headache as the jabbering from the day before, so I guess I'll never be a codebreaker. I figured The Baron might be able to decipher it, so I copied the whole thing down and stowed it in my pocket to give him.

When I handed the real letter over to Evangelina, she seemed much more polite than Driscol. Not, like, super polite or anything - still gave me that upturned aristocratic nose most nobles seem to have - but she actually said 'thank you'. No insults or nuthin'.

(Shame she's shacked up with that arse. Maybe she can teach 'im some manners. The proper kind, not useless stuff like the fork you need to use when there's a winged pig flying around the ceiling of the dining hall.}

Evangelina did seem a little surprised that it wasn't sealed. She even asked if the seal had just dropped off somewhere between here and Driscol's apartment. Maybe it made her suspicious, thinkin' that I'd opened it? Can't blame me, I certainly did NOT.

...

Not... not in the unsealing sense, anyway. And isn't that more important than opening an already open letter? I mean, doesn't the lack of seal, like, make it public property? That makes sense, doesn't it?

Yeah, keep bullshittin' yourself, ya guilty bastard. Sigh.

Anyway. I went back to Driscol's room to check on him again, but he refused to open his door to anyone. Eventually I gave up and took my stuff back to The Baron, and came home to sleep. No Libby. Really gotta confront her on this constantly absent stuff - I don't wanna sound sexist, but it would be NICE to at least see my wife when I got home late at night.

Blech. Secrets revealed, but I don't know what they are. All I got out of today was a lump of feelin' bad, diary. Maybe I should put a stop to all this…? I already know much more than I think I ever wanted to know about this castle.

War. War in the future. I don't wanna go to war. What the hell good would I be in a war? They might as well make me a general, 'cause I sure as hell won't be any use on the front lines.

Ugh. See? See the funk opening a letter that doesn't belong to me has brought?! This is why it shouldn't be done! Mail is sacred, diary!

Sincerely,

Dragomir the Filthy Correspondence Thief