Tuesday, August 9, 2011

Day Seven: Say what say what?

I’ve found out what Robert wanted, diary, and it’s not good. He wants me to help him hunt elephants.

I should mention that my brother is a crazy bastard.

I don’t like elephants. They’re big, nasty creatures that can ram down anything that gets in their way. I’ve heard a stampede of them can bring down a dragon. That’s a scary thought, diary. How am I supposed to kill an elephant? I can’t even kill goblins when they steal bread from the storehouses. That might have more to do with my disability than anything, but... well, how can I do any better against an elephant?!

Robert says it’s for a good cause. Robert’s tired of having the same three things over and over. He wants to make a dish for the king that will persuade him to open up the kitchen’s menu. I didn’t know the king had out-and-out mandated Robert to only make three things. I thought Robert was just lazy.

It’s a good idea, but... an elephant? Me? Kill? I can’t. Even the best guards aren’t supposed to do that. We’re told to avoid the elephant herds. And the other guards can pick up weapons! How can I fight one barehanded? I’m supposed to be a father in a few months!

Robert says he’s got a plan, though, a way to kill an elephant. He says one of the tusky fiends is more than enough. He needs me and another guard. He wants me to ask Philip the Guard tonight, and to tell him that Robert will give him the best hunks of rat meat for the rest of the year if he agrees.

I don’t get anything. “You’re family,” Robert said. “You should do it ‘cause I asked.” What a dink.

I don’t know what to do, diary. Robert’s right, he is family. And I would like something to eat besides rat stew, yak tarts and vegetable platters. I keep getting these weird, glowing blobby appearing in front of my eyes, and I bet that's 'cause I don't eat right.

But... what would Libby say?

I better not ask. She’ll hit me. Hard. In bad places. Possibly with planks of wood. The last time I said I was gonna do something stupid, she said she'd shove a side table up my butt. I take threats like that seriously.

I’ll think about it some more, diary, and get back to you tomorrow.


Dragomir the Guard

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