Day Two-Fifty-Three: One Robert Down

The strike's over.

Everyone's leaving.

In a sense, Robert capitulated. He gave in to King Jeffrey's freakish demands, screamed at the crowd from the king's tower. The deal, I've heard, was this:

"EITHER YOU GET BACK TO WORK OR YOU GET THE HELL OUT! THOSE ARE YOUR TWO OPTIONS!"

Jeffrey underestimated the drawing power of the second option, because it took only a few minutes of debate for every rowdy protestor in the main thoroughfare to decide, yeah, that's not such a bad idea. Half an hour later, most people were tromping out of the secret entrance to the castle, watched over by a tearful Queen Daena.

Who, I should mention, is also leaving. Celine dropped by the house this morning and told Libby and I that Daena's decided to divorce King Jeffrey. He's gone too far for her to bear. (Don't know if you CAN divorce a king, but I'm positive that not a single lawyer in the country will argue with a giant, rolling death machine.) Once Logan and Eve are married - Daena thinks it's a HORRIBLE matchup, speaking of which, though she kept quiet before - the queen's taking the Matriarch out of this crappy castle.

And… so are we.

Libby's refusing to leave Daena without a capable mechanic, and, secretly, I'm sure she wants to stick with her friend. They've stuck together through quite a bit, 'n I can't see that changing any time soon. I can't bear to leave Eve behind in this crumbling mausoleum of a kingdom, but… she doesn't need me… and Libby does.

Well. Not really. She needs me more than Eve, at least, and that counts for something. Right? Sure. Hell, Daena eventually wants to get Logan BACK, so… maybe I'll see my little girl again…?

That revelation wasn't even the heaviest one of the day. All that stuff is happening the future. This next one? Already happened. Done and gone and finished.

Because all of the workers are leaving, Robert, too, is taking off. Not the librarian, of course - he's stayin' here for good or for ill - but my bro. The kingdom's premiere chef, and former caterer for Logan's wedding. He stopped by the house to say goodbye to Libby and I, surrounded by a mob of supporters. (Including his kitchen staff, of course.)

"Heya, bro." He leaned on the doorjamb and gave me his usual, sarcastic grin. "'m headin' out. You gonna come with?"

I shook my head. Libby and I had already made our decision. "We're stickin' around for the wedding. After that… who knows."

"Yeah. Who knows." He took of his chef's cap, stowed it in his pocket, and came forward for a hug. "This ain't the chef in your house, now. This is plain 'ol Robert, and plain 'ol Robert wants to give you a bit of advice. If you don't mind."

I accepted the hug. We don't normally have fraternal moments, but this seemed appropriate. "Sure, go nuts."

He pulled me in close, nice and tight, and whispered in my ear. "Don't stay for the wedding. Get the hell outta here, Drago. Right now. With us. I've got a nose for lousy deals, 'n this one reeks of ill favour."

"Don't I know it." I pushed him away with a light punch to the chest. "We'll be fine. Our little girl's a fighter, remember? She won't let us get all buggered up."

Robert frowned, obviously unconvinced. He's always had a little soft spot for Eve, but… she's Eve, y'know?

"Don't suppose you have some crazy scheme for getting' us all outta this mess, do ya?" I smirked and drew an imaginary line across my neck. Poor Philip.

Robert bellowed laughter. "Ha! Oh, oh, that poor bastard. Heh… heh. Cripes, almost forgot about that. Thanks for makin' me feel guilty, y'bastard."

"Any time, y'bastard." We hugged again.

Robert reached into his pocket and pulled out a piece of wood. He handed it to me. "'ere. I got this a while back. S'a magic match, or something. Remember? I used it to spook you durin' the first strike. I want you to have it."

I remembered. I took the match and ran a hand over the head. It sparked to life and glowed faintly in the sunlight. "Yeah. Thanks, but… why? Cook like you must run through a dozen matches in a day."

"Sure." He shrugged. "'n it's saved me a couple copper, here 'n there. I can't help ya, though, so… figure you should have it. Probably come in handy, somewhere down the line. Just… be careful how ya take it outta your pocket."

I set it on the table near the door, thanked him, and waved Robert goodbye. He told me he'd be back in our hometown, setting up his own restaurant, if I ever wanted to look him up. Not sure if I wanna see my dad any time soon, but I'll keep it in mind.

Libby stayed in bed all day, rebuffin' any attempts to get her up, so I wandered up to the ramparts and watched everyone leave. The royal guards only tried to stop Robert, and he had so many people surrounding him that they had no choice but to yield and let him through.

It normally would've been a poetic hour, watching them all go as the sun faded in the west behind a bank of puffy clouds. I might have actually enjoyed the artful transition…

…were it not for King Jeffrey, screaming his guts out from his tower, cursing everybody through his bullhorn as they abandoned his kingdom forever. Most of his rants were just that… rants… but one comment, repeated several times, stuck hard in my head:

"IT'S TOO LATE! YOU BASTARDS! I'VE GOT ALL I NEEDED OUTTA YOU ANYWAY! IT'S ALREADY DUG! YOU HEAR ME!? I FOUND WHAT I WANTED, AND THE NEXT TIME I SEE YOU, YOU'LL BE AT THE WRONG END OF A SWORD!"

Sincerely,

Dragomir the Guard