Day One-Ninety-Seven: Serving the common man

I'm surprised. Logan didn't write anything in my diary last night, but he DID show up this morning. Looked a little pale, too. Wonder if he's coming down with something.

…

I SWEAR I've been nowhere near the rat farms. SWEAR. Not a damned speck of foulfungus shite on my clothes. I DIDN'T INFECT THE PRINCE, SWEEEEEEAR

Pale or not, Logan was eager and ready to work. I was surprised the prince of the realm would be willing to accept a job from a lowly guard like myself, but I got over it. Must be a future-father-son-thing. Assuming I'm ever allowed to consider Logan a son, since he's gonna be the king and all. How does that work with stepfathers?

Yeesh. Wedding. I'd almost forgotten about that whole thing. I've never had the chance to ask Eve what she thinks about getting married. From what I hear they're gonna tie the knot in July, I think? Early August? Something like that. My darling daughter doesn't have much time to prepare.

She's STILL not one year old. This whole thing is bloody twisted, diary, lemme tell you.

Aaaaaand I've gone totally off topic. PRINCE LOGAN. RIGHT. He's important.

After yesterday's meeting with Robert, I spent the evening feeling uneasy. His schemes never end well. Go looking for an elephant? Philip dies. Invite parents to stay here? Father mocks me for more than a week straight. Hunt polar bears? Nearly get eviscerated. He has a bad track record, diary. And did I mention that he abandoned me to the polar bear's jaws in that last example? No? Thought not. Point is made.

I wanted advance warning. Not a sudden 'Surprise! I'm gonna wave my butt at a passing flock of vampire bats and see what happens!' sorta thing. (That would be funny, though. How could it go badly for me? Couldn't. Kinda hope that happens now.) Who better to ask for a favour than Prince Logan, the sneakiest little bastard in the whole kingdom? Who better to spy on my brother?

And he did. Gladly. Happily. With his kangaroo gone, Logan seems a bit lost. He doesn't even look right, now that poor Antonia is locked in the dungeons. He's supposed to have a big, furry galoot at his side, and I mean other than The Baron. Giving him a temporary sense of purpose probably lifted his spirits.

When he came back at the end of the day, Logan confirmed one of my suspicions: Robert is asking a lot of people the same questions he asked me yesterday. And, if Logan's correct, everybody he talked to is a labourer of some kind. Didn't talk to a single noble. Robert also didn't mention any concrete plans, so that's frustrating.

Logan and I chatted about his results for a little while, sitting in my living room (EEEEE I HAVE A LIVING ROOM), and we both came to the same conclusion: Robert's gonna petition for new food in the Beefiary. He's probably looking for support from other people, kinda like a poll.

And ya know what? If he does a poll, I will sign it. I will gladly tell him what I want to eat. I'm tired of King Jeffrey's consumptive tyranny. He shouldn't be able to control what Robert makes in the Beefiary! Why does he even care, anyway?! It's not FAIR!

Woof. Small tantrum there. Sorry, I'm still pissed that Jeffrey destroyed my short story. Really wish I could remember what the damn thing was about.

All this is just speculation, o'course. Don't know what Robert has planned. I think I might follow him personally tomorrow, 'n see if I can catch him saying something he shouldn't. Captain Cedric's got me guarding that freaking cupboard for the second week in a row, so it's not like I have something better to do.

Also: more cockroaches. I've given up cleaning the cup. There's no point. I won't start caring until I find live bugs in the thing. Until then, it's a tiny insect graveyard, and I'm gonna respect that.

Sincerely,

Dragomir the Guard