Nowhere to be found. He’s not with the dogs, not in the garden, not in the ball pit. Not in the workshop, not in the baths, not in the halls. He cannot be in the brewery, It’s far too vast, way too dark, and the barrels snort and moan and groan when they release the gases from the drink, scaring visitors. He won’t hide in the brewery tonight, no, he’d risk getting lost and attacked by the things that lurk in the far end of it. Maybe they scared away the deer. That only lets the dining room, The Lady’s chamber, and the guest rooms, one of which is mine. I would have noticed, I would have noticed if he had crossed this, the throne room, the golden lizard room, to go there or run away from those places. He’s trapped now, unless he moves when I do so, which would imply we are playing a game of cat and mouse I don’t feel comfortable with. Mice, I don’t like mice. Cats, however, do.

I need to check the chamber of The Lady, lest he does something to her! Bye, diary, write you later!

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She screamed at me! What is the meaning of this? She screamed at me. It was the unsheathed sword, it was me waking her up with the sword unsheathed, she thought I would attack her, she thought, because of the unsheathed sword she thought I would attack her. I am so sorry, diary, I have angered her. So sorry.

I wanted to keep my Lady safe, so I entered her chamber ready to dispatch the invader, the clown, the vandal, the rascal, the moron, the sinner. But he was nowhere to be found, and my carelessness woke the lady up. Eyes open wide, she inquired: “What is the meaning of this”.

I began mumbling away my excuses, but then I realized, the sword, unsheathed, in Lady Scarlet’s chamber. A despicable offense, by me, not by him, by me. By a servant.

“Pawn, what is the meaning of this. Speak now!” she ordered, elevating from her bed, spurring the curtains, filling the atmosphere with their purple scent.

I trembled. Couldn’t explain, couldn’t explain. The Lady’s ire is unbearable. Dragons fear her rage, The Gator Prince once told me so. I ran for the palace entrance, past the blacksmith workshop, but the Sentinel caught me and snarled. “Get it back together, scum,” he must’ve meant.

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Then I hid in the brewery, hugging my sword, and among the barrels I fell asleep. I dreamed with the place of gray and neon, with its cathedrals and pigeons, with its green plazas and black-and-yellow taxis. A place the intruder knows; a place he talks about in his notes. Home, I used to call it home before the azure mirrors appeared. There’s no way back, I must forget.

Minutes or hours later, she found me, whole body aching, her hands pulling me up my chest without the slightest effort.

“My dear pawn, why were you stalking me while holding a lethal weapon?” she asked with a calm, sweet voice.

“intruder, searching for … intruder,” I whimpered.

She let go and I fell over one of the barrels, breaking its solid structure, spreading tepid wine all over the floor. The air reeked of metal.

“Fine. You scared me. Pray be more careful next time you go hunting trespassers.”

“You doubt my loyalty, Lady Scarlet?” I asked, with my heart wrenched, and the eyes wetting.

She grunted and gracefully walked away.

“Do that no more, Pawn, and we will remain on good footing. You know your lady is not loved by all. By most, I’d even say.”

With difficulty, I managed to crawl in all four, looking at her from my pathetic, small man position. “But they are wrong, my Lady.”

“Men are amongst the creatures that weren’t born to be right, pawn. That’s a privilege reserved to gods and mighty , divine beings.” She offered me her hand so I could stand back up.

“Even dragons?” I asked, and her eyes became a thin line.

“Some of them, perhaps. Some of them. None that I have met.”

“Have you met many dragons, you Highness?”

She didn’t answer, just went for the door out of the brewery. I insisted, following her like a curious plague.

“Some, pawn, some. Already told you about them, I believe,” she finally said, and dismissed me with a gesture. I realized, then, that I had angered her again, and came here to write about it. I need to remain out of her sight for a while, let the flames of her ire calm down. The Brewery needs cleaning, and I, drenched in wine, a bath. I’ll take it now, the bathing pools should be empty, save for The Fish. In other words, available, because The Fish is a constant, always there, always there.