Tuesday, October 16, 2012

Day Three-Hundred-Seven: Nighttime boobery

Gods. This workforce is impossible, I tell you what. IMPOSSIBLE.

I woke up this morning to find one of the buildings, or rather the framework of a building, in a shambles. The wood had been ripped apart and tossed haphazardly in many directions, some of the planks floating happily on the edge of the little river beside the town. I hauled the planks out of the water and inspected the building site. It was being watched over by Harold, his fingers knitted tightly together in a nervous arc.

"Harold," says I, patting him lightly on the back so I wouldn't freak him out too much, "what in the hell happened here?"

After screaming lightly, Harold composed himself, straightened his cap, and stared at the ground. "There was a fight last night."

"What kinda fight? Musta been a danged weird one, for the bones of a house to fall apart."

Harold picked up a board, brushed some dirt and wet leaves off the knotted surface, and set it down again. "It was… ah… kind of a dumb one, I suppose. Lonnie the Noble - you know Lonnie, right? I share a wagon with him - got up in the early morning, grumbling that he was tired of sleeping on a cot. I think he was half in the bag, if you know the expression."

"Not really. Was he stuck in a bag? Did that start the fight?"

"No, no, I mean he was half asleep."

"In the bag?"

"No! Forget…" He sighed, shook his head, and started over. "Lonnie was sleepwalking. Sounded like he was. He left the wagon, went over to a different wagon, one of the ones with the peasants, and ordered them to wake up and build him a house. Immediately."

"Aw, hell," I muttered. I picked a bit of earwax from its resting place and flung it into the air, hoping the sight of something headed skyward might improve my now sinking spirits. No go, joe. "What'd the peasants say? Who was it he bothered?"

Harold shrugged. He still doesn't know names outside his social class, aside from Libby 'n me. Maybe Edmund, as well. "I was almost fully asleep myself, so all I heard was a lot of yelling and ruckus. I think one of the low folk called Lonnie a yuppy. Any idea what that means?"

"Nope." I kicked the board at our feet. "How's asking for a house turn into a heap of wood, Harold?"

Harold looked at the ruined building. "By the time I'd fully woken up and peeked outside the wagon, the peasant was ripping the boards apart. Kept saying 'You want a house? You want a house, you greedy sumbitch? Sleep under this pile, then! Nice fuckin' roof! Nice fuckin' roof, you see!' And he was pointing and growling, and Lonnie kept hopping up and down, and eventually they both gave up and went back to their wagons. Lonnie was swearing in his sleep the rest of the night."

"Uh huh." I scratched the light stubble on my chin and breathed deep. "This's… this's a sucky setback. Gotta tell you that, Harold. Why didn't you wake me up last night?"

I knew why before Harold said anything: Grayson. That boy's a happy marvel, he is, but his happiness carries on throughout the night. Libby and I had a hell of a time putting him down the last couple nights, 'cause he wants to stay up and play. When we start to fall asleep, he patiently coos and burbles in our ears until we wake up. Adorable, but bloody irritating. Everybody knows we're up WAY past our normal bedtimes dealing with him, 'n they let us get sleep once he's out. Very nice of 'em.

But, yeeeeeah, not when something like this is happening.

I called a town meeting in the early afternoon, just after lunch. Lonnie maintained that he'd made no request in the night, and none of the peasants spoke up about the ruined house - though all of 'em were happy to trot out the ol' low class vs. high class debate. I called the meeting to an end when that nonsense started again, ordering everyone to put the building back the way it was as a first priority. Most grumbled, but with Libby's help they had the framework looking the way it was yesterday within an hour.

Yay. Small amounts of night time violence. Even if it's violence against a structure, this doesn't bode well.


Dragomir the Mayor

1 comment:

  1. RIOT AND ANARCHY!...I mean...*ahem*...that's terrible. Dragomir should really figure a way to get things sorted out, before it all comes crashing down on his head.