Friday, November 23, 2012

Day Three-Thirty-Five: Call to Arms

The pub collapsed again today, this time bringing the second floor down with the first. Most of the other buildings have been ruined in one way or another. The hunters and watchers I set up during the night to catch the animals in the act have proven useless. Animals are on the loose, happy to roam free when not guided by the rats. I've heard some complains that Philip is tormenting people with his ghostly antics, levitating debris and scratching obscene images into the ground.

Pubton is falling apart. King Gok was right. Gods damn everything, King Gok was right. And I hate to say it, but my dad has the best solution for the problem.

"I SAY WE CONQUER THE STUBBORN FUCK!" he bellowed, eclipsing every voice at today's emergency meeting 'round the golden tree. "We take his fucking manor and MAKE IT OUR OWN! THAT'LL TEACH THE SELF-RIGHTEOUS SNOB!"

Many hands rose in a loud cheer. A few others, mostly belonging to nobles with a healthy understanding and fear of the law, rose instead in protest. They were shushed and drowned out.

"NO!" I shouted from my makeshift podium, a pile of wood from the pub. "We can't go 'round beating people up, dad! This's a democracy, and we gotta be civil!"

Oswald laughed. "Civil? Since fuckin' when? Grow some balls like your old man. Ya TAKE what ya want in this world, 'n to hell with the consequences! How do ya expect to live WITHOUT takin' the old fuck out, eh? Your diplomacy didn't work for shit! FOR SHIT, DRAGOMIR!"

Arguments. Some agreed with my dad, others told him to lay off me but still agreed, yet others disagreed. Pandemonium. The meeting was eventually broken up by Barrel, stomping out of the forest and demanding silence with a terrible roar. Guess we woke him from a nap. I was relieved, to be honest…

… though disconcerted to see people milling around my father, and the lot of them walking off to discuss something. Robert included. Damned daddy's boy. How much you wanna bet they're plotting to invade Pagan's manor in his sleep? I wish I could stop 'em, but today's fraught with continuing problems, and I'm too busy trying to solve them to step in. As if I could prevent my father from attacking Pagan anyway.

And why should I? Two things could happen if dad goes after the knight:

- He succeeds, and Pagan isn't an issue anymore
- He fails, and Pagan offs my dad - not as bad as it sounds, even though Oswald's services as a reeve are quite useful

That also doesn't take into account the possibility that a successful farmer assault might end in a rebellion against me. I really, REALLY don't want this job anymore, so that'd be peachy, but my dad's not the guy to lead these people. Not at all.

… is he?

I dunno. Don't want to think about it right now, bunked under a half-ruined shed with Libby and Grayson. It's cold, I'm tired, and there's something else I wanna discuss first: a new letter from my pen pal. Bora gave it to me while I was tending to some fences.

'Dear Dragomir,

I want to start by thanking your for your advice. I don't know if a picnic will thaw the heart of my problem girl, but kindness as an overarching guide to my efforts may be the key. Amazing how politics eliminates simple human caring as an option to resolve problems…

I received your letter from Tuesday before writing this, and I am astounded by your problem. Animals are ruining your town at the behest of this knight? What an odd phenomenon. We admittedly live in a strange world, but… still…

Nevertheless, my advice remains steady. Offer the man something of value. If he wants nothing of material goods, you may have to provide him with a service - and there is no service more needed in this world than protection from malevolent forces. Aid him in a time of need and you may find the knight more receptive to your request for land.

I pray for a timely resolution of your problem. Thank you again for your assistance! And please, the next time you write, pepper your correspondence with happier details. Perhaps tell me about your baby boy? You've mentioned him, but I know nothing save his name.

Until next time!

Lord B.T.'

What a nice guy. Wish I knew more about him.


Dragomir the Mayor


  1. Oswald the Farmer. Another master of diplomacy. If at first you don't succeed, hit it harder.

    1. I much prefer the tactic of setting fire to everything...helps reduce the amount of rubble ya have to sift through.

    2. Oswald can't set fire to things on his own, though. You need one arm to hold the matchbook and the other to strike the match. Poor guy has no choice but to hit things.

    3. Unless ya gave him the magic match!

    4. Pfft. Real men don't use magic. With the sole exception of Muscle Wizards. In which case the only spell they may cast is FIST.

    5. PSSSSH, Muscle Wizards. They ain't got nothing on Dual-Wielding Shields! Or Badger Knights (Badger in a suit of armor, wielding another Badger as a weapon...totally awesome).