Pierce the heart with the sword of gold! Set it ablaze and sear the wound with the blade! Kill the dragon, Francisco! Kill the dragon before it gets you again, before it consumes you. Step into the main chamber and impale the chest of the vile creature, your muscles still remember how to wield the weapon, trust them. Kill the dragon! End it for both of us! Kill the dragon at once!
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Seeing the above affront against my diary, I showed it to The Lady. She laughed, how beautiful it was that she laughed. To make the Lady Happy is my reason to be. She caressed my hair and told me to worry not.
“Dragons drive their challengers mad, but fear not, my pawn: they cannot enter our palace. Their malice has no place in my realm, my abode. You may never see a living dragon running through the halls, my magic will keep them out. No need to search their lairs, no need to stain the steel with their blood, no need to leave this, our Haven,” She said, and then, embraced me from behind, threatening my ribs.
“Thanks, my Lady.” I made a bow before her and retreated back to the writing table.
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Today I need to clean the dog kennels. The fingers dare not point at the dogs, and one needs to crawl to get through the small door that leads to their room. They look at me puzzled every time I enter their territory, as if I were a barely tolerated presence. Distrust, the animals stare at me full of it and wariness. The soft carpet is always wet and reeks of their characteristic sour stench. My feelings toward the pups aren’t foul, however, as they are only animals and it is wise to be wary of tall men.
Sometimes, I pet one of them because I like dogs because dogs are good because dogs are loyal. They stand the petting because they like petting like being pet like being pets. Their kennels, holed into the walls, have to be emptied of the foreign objects they carry into them: balls, twigs, platters, dice. By the hour I have generally finished collecting all of those and piling them outside the room. Most of them roll down the entry slope without presenting a single issue. Once that is done, I check on the dog’s tongues, as there should be more tongues than dogs. About four times more, to be exact. Sometimes the, in their hurry to serve and please, bite off one and leave it lying around. When that’s the case, I take them to The Lady so she can fix them up with her healing magic.
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It’s funny how my breathings echo in the kennel room, for the dogs remain ever so silent. They don’t bark, snarl or whimper. They only glare, always glare, and I can see them doing so, from the corner of my eyes. They glare while I gather the stolen items, while I scrub the floor, while I count the tongues. While I crawl back up the slope. Again, don’t misunderstand, they are good dogs, they behave and even know some tricks. I tried teaching them new ones but most of them are too old to learn. A few learned to give me a paw. Others have learned to lick their peers on their own, eventually grooming the fur of the whole pack. The Lady never needed to teach them tricks, for if she says “Jump”, they jump. And if she orders them to attack, they attack. And if she commands them to die, they die. Of course, this is merely an illustrative example, as Our Lady is far too nice, exceedingly compassionate to ever give that order to a healthy dog.
I also need to mop the halls, they are all wet. I hate moping, as it seems you never end doing it. The mop absorbs less water than it should, the bucket fills earlier than you guessed it would, the day goes by faster than you know. The floor is irregular and the water pools in the depressions left behind by broken tiles. The fingers mock from above, so from below. It’s their fault. It’s their sweat, or the cries of the water birds that hold them, that wets the whole floor.
Furthermore, the water is cold. I tremble as I wield the cleaning implement, like a turkey moping the inside of a fridge. Sometimes I carry my sword, Lady’s sword, with me, on its sheath, hanging by my waist. It’s reassuring to have it, to feel the weight of the Lady’s trust and love on my person. The weather is cold but the sword irradiates warm, so much it seems to be about to burn my skin now and then. A very passionate sword, no doubt.
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I miss home, Francisco, don’t you? I miss mom and her pancakes, I miss dad and his jokes. I miss the parks, the birds without health bars, the lack of dragons. Please, Francisco, go search for the dragon, slay it, and free us. Serve not The Lady, but your family. We have a duty to end it all, a duty to return, to find Abeline wherever she is. We have a duty, and that includes you.
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The son of a bitch keeps on vandalizing the diary! He must have done it while I moped! Catching him is a pressing matter now. Ink is valuable. Paper too. For all of Lady Scarlet’s fortune, it is disrespectful to be so wasteful.
She is sleeping now; I cannot wake her up. I will grab the sword and search for the vandal myself, stab him if necessary. Report back if I survive.