To Katherine, From Robin
The turn of March, and a gift for you! A place to jot down your thoughts and to reflect. I figured that with all the recordkeeping you do for the kingdom, you’d like to keep track of your own life as well. If not, have some papers to burn.
Your beloved, most amazing, most dashing friend,
1 March 1546 - The Royal Archives
I have not gone outside of the castle ever since the middle of April came around. There is too much rain, and it feels dirty to walk outside. Humidity has gone up, and I fear wood rot would once again become the bane of my existence. It is made worst when I spend half my life in the library, organizing and filing texts and tomes. I spend the other half in my room, surrounded by books and paperwork. The things I do for the crown, I need a raise.
This is where I’ll leave off for today, I have to shelf and organize an entire shipment of texts, and this kingdom will not manage itself. Thank god one of the servants - Pier I believe - helped me carry the crates up, I do not know how I would have ever managed on my own. I am not used to journaling, but I think Robin might be onto something with this. Writing for myself is a nice change of pace from penning down letters and rulings and notes and all that.
2 March 1546 - My Room
Robin said this was to keep track of my life and to clear my mind. What am I supposed to write? I wrote about the weather yesterday, do I follow up with what I eat? My conversations? Actually, I’ve thought of something.
Today, Robin fell down the stairs. I think I should have helped her, but I was too busy laughing. She threatened to turn me into a frog if I kept standing there. I wonder if she could have. Once I helped her up, she showed me her broken wrist. I was concerned, but she took a small vial of some pink liquid she keeps on herself and she seemed fine. We continued our visit to the town and I admit, it is not as boring with a friend. I bought too many mints (my guilty pleasure) and a new coat, cheapest I’ve ever gotten them for. For a cooped up alchemist, Robin is awfully good at haggling.
As I put this down, I cannot help but feel slightly concerned about her. She seemed to flinch when she picked her bag - it was heavy, I should have assisted. But, I’m not sure if she did. I shall check in on her tomorrow morning. She’s the Grand Alchemist though, I’m sure it will be fine. She knows what she’s doing.
3 March 1546 - My Room
I just got back from visiting Robin. She claims she is well and she seems to be so. I am glad. Can’t write much more, I must keep diligence in managing our kingdom’s finances and laws. There is a council meeting in a couple of hours and I hope to get this done before then.
3 March 1546 - The Red Garden
I have decided to keep the journal on me at all times, it is a small thing anyhow, in case I need to urgently write something down. The meeting went fine, our Lord Commander of the Steel Legion and Royal Navy (What a mouthful, I shall simply call him Commander from here on out. Or perhaps Sean. It’s not as if he will ever read this) reported some slight disturbances on the western border. He says he will be sending a batch of troops to secure the line and make sure no violence breaks out. Other than that, there was not much out of the ordinary.
Later I met our Grandmaster of War Albert in the gardens, where I am currently seated. He seemed to have been inspecting some plants when I chanced upon him. We talked a bit about typical things; the weather, how our lives were going, the matters of the kingdom. Then he excused himself, saying that he had important matters to attend to. I bade him a good day.
I know little about him save for that he is a brilliant tactician. Albert seems like a very private individual. He does not seem to have any friends in the castle, save for perhaps Sean and Robin, although he is amiable to everyone. But there are all kinds of people and I have no time to concern myself with the troubles of others.
That does remind me, I need to formally check in with both Albert and Sean on the matters of the troops. Always good to stay up-to-date, even on small changes.
5 March 1546 - My Room
Pier dropped by today to deliver Robin’s request for more gold to spend on her alchemy ingredients. As much as I appreciate her and her friendship, my answer will be the same as this morning. She must try harder than sending the exact same letter (exact same wording as well) to me twice in a day. We simply do not have room in the budget for it, not unless we should increase the taxes and tariffs once more. I have much to do anyways.
It is now noon and I have received two more envelopes from Robin. I have denied both. At least now she is attempting to switch up her sentences. Poor Pier, he looks tired out. Robin’s lab is far from here, over in an entirely different part of the castle. I hope she does not keep this up because I feel myself becoming more and more irritated.
I cannot believe her.
I have come to expect such eccentricity from being friends with Robin, I’ve even grew to not question it, but enough is enough. Eight more have come since my last entry, I know she stays up often, but some of us would like to sleep thank you very much. I can see the pale face of the moon from my window here. Has her hand not cramped from penning all these letters? How has she not run out of ink? I hope she does soon, if I hear one more knock on my door rousing me from my sleep I am going to storm over and snap her quill in half. I have never seen such an unpleasant frown on Pier before, I did not think it was possible until now. (Why does Robin keep making Pier deliver her letters? Surely she is aware there are other servants in the castle?) He is not happy and I do not blame him. I will give him a mint tomorrow.
6 March 1546 - The Royal Archives
Pier accepted my mint with a polite nod that said “I do not eat mints. This will go in the trash.”
I woke up with a headache and was on my way to visit Robin for a potion (I am very glad to report she fidgeted, laughed nervously, and knocked over a few empty beakers) when I spotted Princess Christina doodling in the Archives. She was sketching in that notebook she carries around with her sometimes. We are similar in that regard.
When I approached, she smiled with those clever eyes. Always something going on in that bright mind of hers, I cannot wait to read over her essays she’s been so working on the past week. She was happy to show me her drawing, a detailed picture of the entire chamber.
(Fit for her role, but she’s always saying how if she hadn’t been born the daughter of a king, she would have been an artist)
7 March 1546 - The Royal Archives
I was informed that the Lord Commander has appointed a new captain to the Black Moon, one of the larger warships we have. As it turned out the previous captain fell ill and was honorably relieved of his duties. He was in his later days anyways, new blood should prove to be good. Sean has a good eye for leaders. The King seemed to approve of his choice.
I happened upon Sean and the Princess playing chess today, with Albert as a curious onlooker. They did not mind my spectating as well. I expected an even board, but instead witnessed Christina demolishing Sean. Albert didn’t seem to have expected anything else though.
She had a rather impish smile when she checkmated our Lord Commander of the Steel Legion and Royal Fleet. “This game is very different than a real battle. Don’t feel bad,” she said. It would be interesting to play a game against Christina sometime, but I am not very good at chess. Nevertheless, they say you can tell a lot about a person’s personality by their play style.
I didn’t expect it when Sean gave a resigned sigh and pulled out two chocolate bars, handing them over. I disguised my laugh as a cough. Albert hid his smile behind his hand.
8 March 1546 - The Safe, Warm, Dry Comfort of My Room
I was enjoying some tea in the Red Garden when the rain began pounding down. I regret trusting the weather enough to go outside, because in that moment of trust, it went from a simple cloudy day to a waterfall of betrayal. It didn’t even sprinkle. I was drenched, and so was the journal. It’s distorted now, dry (thankfully), and slightly wrinkly. I do not mind, though I might look a bit like Robin now. Lord forbid how many books Robin has ruined over the past five years. Not many, but enough, and much more than any other human being.
One I dried myself, I received word from Pier that I should visit the Grandmaster of War Albert. He had some important news for me. Apparently, some of the royal guards forcefully removed a crazy man for asking audience with the king. His reason?
9 March 1546 - Captain Flynt’s Room
I have just been informed that Captain Flynt, captain of the City Guard, had been found dead in his room a hour ago. Our Lord Commander bade me to quickly go with him to the scene of the crime and record down evidence before Robin calls for the body to be moved and before anybody accidentally or purposefully tampers with the evidence. Current people in the room: Sean, me, Robin, Albert, Wynn (Robin is currently investigating the body, Sean has ordered that no servants enter the room until Robin and I have finished our duties)
Victim: Captain John Flynt of the City Guard
- Multiple stab wounds on body, five by Robin’s count, depth not yet determined
- Cause of death is likely to be blood loss
- Body next to table
- A half-eaten plate of food (Chicken and bread) and a goblet of wine (Three-fourth of the way full) are on his desk, he was likely attacked while eating (Robin has confiscated both of these items to conduct further research in case of poisoning)
- Nothing else out of the ordinary
Robin has finished her preliminary examination and says that she will call for a servant to help move the body to her work space for a more in-depth look if I am done with my notes. I said I was, so she has left the room to search for a servant. Albert is leaving right now in search of the servant that had found the body (Catelyn Lynne), saying “Why would you let her out of your sight? She could be the murdered or accomplice for all we know.” Sean was about to reply, but Albert was already out of the room by that point.
It seems that things here are wrapping up, Sean says that he will go to make sure His Majesty and the princess have been informed and to call for the castle to be locked down and for patrols to be on the lookout. He has ordered Wynn to stay here until Robin returns to prevent theft of the body should the killer still be around. Wynn responded with a decisive nod of his head and touched his hand to his sword. I suppose I will be taking my leave too, I have to transcribe these matters.
I have returned to my room and am done with copying down the report on loose-leaf parchment. I realized that I have not said anything of Wynn in my journal so I will attempt to do so, I have given simple sketches of other important people here so why not him?
Wynn is our second-in-command in regards to the Steel Legion. I believe he was not too happy when Albert picked Sean as Lord Commander over him four year ago, but from what I’ve heard from Sean the past is in the past. He doesn’t seem like the kind to hold a grudge anyways. Our Commander says Wynn admires him and that has to be the truth, because apparently Wynn had tracked down the blacksmith that forged Sean’s longsword and now wields an exact replica. (His Majesty had commissioned custom weapons to be made for our Lord Commander after he fended off an invasion from the west despite being hugely outnumbered)
Anyways, he’s an intelligent and gifted individual, but I suppose Albert chose Sean over him due to Sean’s higher skill in combat and natural charisma (good in a leader). Unfortunate.
10 March 1546 - The Royal Archives
Robin is currently in the Archives with me to tell me what she had found after having spent nearly twenty hours testing and examining the body and food. The result? Not much. She has declared this a simple case of murder (I do not believe murders are ever simple, but I shall not argue with her on this as it is more of an opinion and detracts from the conversation), stating the stabbing was “very much” the cause of death and that there had been no “sneaky shit or anything like that”. I shall make note to include that in the report, but perhaps change the sentence a little.
There is not much to report today, everyone is unsettled by the murder and conversations are short. None of the military personnel have came to me with evidence or notice that they have caught the killer. I will try not think of the scene (It is not until you witness a stabbed body that you realize how much blood in a human) by busying myself with the books. It is raining again.
12 March 1546 - My Room
I’ve mentally reviewed my schedule for today. Nothing but paperwork, much like yesterday. I’m going to run out of ink soon, I’m on my last half a bottle and there’s no more left. It’s rained enough to cause a flood by now.
13 March 1546 - My Room
At the council meeting today, Sean has announced who he had chosen to be Flynt’s successor, the City Guard must have a leader after all. So, congratulations to Captain Aelric Swannard of the City Guard, whoever he might be. Still no findings, unless they have forgotten to report them to me despite my direct orders to do so. (Maybe I should remind them again today).
The castle was taken off lock down yesterday though I doubt anybody wants to go outside in this weather. Everything is damp. I hate it. It is hard to write by candlelight all the time, I wish the torches were brighter but you can’t really make fire brighter than it is. I have not seen the sun in forever. I feel restless, the only places I really ever go are the Archives and my room. I should stop by Robin’s tomorrow for a chat, it would be nice to interact with other humans. She looked still miserable at today’s meeting, I suppose it is hard for even her to stay up all night.
14 March 1546 - Sean’s Chambers
I am writing this from Sean’s chambers for I feel I will go mad if I do not get a change of scenery. It’s not like he’s using it anyways, our Commander’s been horribly occupied with the murder case. (I did ask permission before entering though) I will make note of what is in his chambers, there is actually much to look at, I have never been in here before. And it’s bigger than my own room.
(What’s the deal with that, huh? Am I not just as important? Who else will look save His Majesty’s books and tomes and scrolls and important documents from mildew? Who else will make sure the temperature is regulated? Who else will work through mountains of paperwork for the land? I am underappreciated I swear. Sean can swing a sword good sure, but I TEND TO THE LAWS OF THE LAND. I would demand a raise, but the King has fallen ill and I cannot bring it upon myself to ask in such a dire time)
Right, on that topic, today I had the chat with Robin as I said I would. It did not go as pleasantly as expected though, she has been busy this past week tending to His Majesty who has fallen ill (he is an aging man after all). She said the disease is unlike others she’s seen, but it is not contagious so there’s no reason for me to worry. (When she brought up the first part, I must have made some sort of face) She is working hard on a cure and while she treasures our friendship (I feel like this was just the tiniest bit sarcastic, but you never know with Robin, she is a sarcastic person even when she does not truly mean to be rude), she really must get back to work.
Now, back to Sean’s room. It is bigger than mine, perhaps double mine’s size actually. (Then again that might be because of the nice furnishing and decorations while my room is just stacks of paper and books everywhere) He has a very nice desk (The one I’m writing on right now) that shows obvious signs of unuse. (He should give it to me)
The drawers contain the following:
- A long, finely sanded, and beautifully carved cherry wood box that contains a set of seven daggers. Each of the daggers has a different gemstone embedded in the hilt and they have obviously been crafted by an experienced blacksmith. They show no signs of use, Sean doesn’t use daggers often, this must have been a present.
- A half-filled bottle of ink and two quills (One goose and one hawk, fancy)
- A small jar of olive oil
- A few loose sheets of blank parchment
- A handful of wrapped mints (I do not know how long these have been in here, so I did not partake)
- A pair of battered leather gloves
I am not sure if Sean decorated the room himself, but whoever did has a good eye for it. Perhaps it was Christina, her eye for art might translate into one for design, and I know they have a good relationship. There is a shield and a pair of crossed swords above the fireplace (which I have taken the liberty to light so it would not be so dark. I would have one in my room but my entire place is a fire hazard) and a white fur rug in front of it. Our Lord Commander seems to keep a collection of weapons in his room, there is a row of swords leaned against the far wall mixed with a few other weapons, two battle-axes, a pair of hatchets, and a few spears. Actually upon closer inspection they all seem nicely crafted, perhaps these were gifts too? People sure love giving him weapons if that’s the case...then again does Sean have any interests?
Alright, I shall stop snooping around now. I have finished my entry.
15 March 1546 - The Royal Archives
Ah, darkness and dampness and goddamn mildew, (Where is that servant I asked to clean up the place yesterday? They did not do their job well) I have returned! And do I ever regret it so. Albert came by earlier today, telling me that another two days without a solid lead and they might give up on the search entirely. Life has mostly returned to normal, the body has been preserved for burial, and looking at Flynt’s room you’d never know he had died in there. Nobody speaks of it and perhaps that is for the best. All conversation is on His Majesty’s health these days, Robin works tirelessly and endlessly. I am not certain how many cups of coffee she has drunk since she uses the same cup, but I see the bags underneath her eyes. I will force her to get a good night of sleep today. She needs to take better care of herself, but I suppose it is hard with the burden of the King’s life on your shoulders. Robin needs a raise and a bigger room herself, the King better give her one if he lives. (No, what am I saying? When he recovers. When he recovers, although Robin says it is looking grim)
WHEN IS THIS GODDAMN RAIN GOING TO STOP, IT HAS BEEN RAINING FOR FOUR DAYS. HOW IS THAT EVEN POSSIBLE. MY BONES HAVE RUSTED FROM THE RAIN BY THIS POINT. WHICHEVER GOD MAKES IT STOP RAINING, I WILL PRAY AT THE ALTAR OF EVERYDAY.
17 March 1546 - Robin’s Room
Hey look it’s Katherine, back at it again writing in other people’s rooms. Neither Albert nor Wynn would let me into their room, Albert gave me a look and said “No, it’s okay” when I asked and Wynn kind of brushed me off. Luckily for me, Robin agreed as today she will spend the night by His Majesty’s side, monitoring his condition. I have been in Robin’s room before, but maybe now I can snoop around a bit.
The place lit with lanterns that never seems to burn out (along with the fact her place might be more of a fire hazard than my room). I will ask her how she does that, and if she could provide me with some as well. There’s a desk, a bed, a closet, and the rest is whatever alchemy equipment or ingredients she couldn’t fit in the lab. Oh, she has the boutique of irises, phlox, larkspur, and heliotrope on her desk. It sits in a vase of light purple liquid she probably made. It was the gift I gave her last June as a birthday present. The fragrance is still fresh.
The rest of the room is messy, as I expected, but not as much as I thought it would be. Potions, ingredients, and stacks of books lie anywhere you look, but at least I can tell everything is categorized (though I have my doubts about the system, as I see a pile of books in the corner with nothing in common besides that they all have red covers). Some books look like they haven’t been touched in years, others are beginning to wear from repeated usage.
Her bed isn’t made, and I see a viola lying on the mattress. I wonder if she plays it anymore. One side of the wall is papered with notes; ingredients for potions, treatments for common illnesses, a couple shopping lists and diagrams. She has a calendar, but it’s still on February.
It always strikes me how different this room is to mine. Or anywhere else I go, because the castle will always be clean and organized. Yet Robin’s entire room might as well be the drawer one uses to throw miscellaneous items into. She has a stack of ink on one corner of the desk, and a handful of quills on the other. They aren’t even stored.
Everything, even the ripped scraps of paper reminders she has scattered everywhere, says, Robin Robin Robin.
But I am not here to make observation on Robin’s room (there’s nothing but papers and notebooks in her desk drawers anyways). I have checked in with both Albert and Sean and they have both confirmed that they are close to giving up on the case, there have been no leads that were not dead-ends and that witnesses claim to not have seen anything. The executioner of our kingdom (he is startling different from the typical executioner you’d picture when you hear the word, he has long blond hair and a lean frame. Whenever I hear the word executioner the image of a brute of a man pops into my head, some guy dressed in all black with short hair and maybe a scar across his face and likely a tragic backstory, but none of those features align with our executioner. I believe his name is Francis. He is also rather kindly towards us, but seems to have no qualms about cutting off heads or torture. Maybe that’s why he has the job) has informed them that give him three days with anyone and he’ll produce the murderer, but Albert’s comment about that was “Three days in constant torture underneath your hands and even the innocent would confess.” Apparently Francis’ response to that was a shrug and a tilt of the head.
I do not wish for them to give up, everybody deserves justice, but neither of them were very close to Captain Flynt and seem somewhat dismissive of the whole issue. I could tell there are bigger matters on their minds, so I did not press the case.
I think I shall spend the rest of the day in here, it is quite nice and I’d hate to return to the dreariness of my own place. I wonder if Robin will get mad if I sleep in here. I am quite curious as if a person would actually be capable of sleeping next to a viola.
18 March 1546 - Robin’s Room
I’m growing fond of the room, and Robin has agreed again to lend it to me. I’ve cleared a space on her desk to suit the paperwork I’ve brought with me, but no more than that. I did have a brief moment where I considered reorganizing the entire table, yet I reconsidered when I remembered how much I hate servants touching my stuff. Maybe there is a method to Robin’s madness and I would hate to mess up our friendship because I couldn’t stand the disarray. (Then again, I’m sure she wouldn’t mind if I straightened this stack of papers and gathered these quills into a cup, whatever does she need five quills for? Oh, I have just found a sixth underneath what appears to be a measuring device. I tossed it away, the feather was bent in half. How long had it been under there?)
As Sean and Albert seem insist on giving up the case, I suppose I shall start my final report regarding the matter. I still feel rather bad - are they saying that nobody saw anything and there was zero evidence? If that is the case then it might have been an assassination which would mean we have a much larger problem on our hands and they most definitely should not give up. But then again I have no experience in the tracking of criminals, perhaps I am giving them less credit than they are due and they have truly gave it their best shot. I shall start the paperwork now.
Oh right! Last night I slept on Robin’s bed and I would like to report that she has very soft, warm blankets, but the viola in fact did make it rather awkward. I moved it off the bed after about thirty minutes of trying to accommodate to it. I have placed it back on the bed this morning. Don’t want to be rude.
It is with great joy that I also report around four o’clock this afternoon the rain ceased. I do not know which god was responsible for it, so I shall give my thanks to all of them on Sunday.
19 March 1546 - Robin’s Room
I will move out tonight, Robin arrived earlier this morning, breathless and shouting something about how she is sure she has found out what illness plagues His Majesty. She grabbed some beakers, a small basket, and dashed off again, but not before throwing her arms around me and nearly lifting me off the ground through her excitement. I hope she is right, the whole kingdom will be eternal thankful of her! Seeing her dedication has, in a way, inspired me to approach my own duties with more passion. I shall be in the Royal Archives for all of today, I have not left Robin’s room for nearly two days now except to grab a new well of ink and food. Writing an extensive crime report takes quite a time, but I have finished, and it is high time that I return to my books and scrolls and…mildew.
Just that thought makes me want to stay in the comfortableness of Robin’s room for one more day. But no, I shall tackle that demon head-on! (And by head-on I mean I will summon some servants to tackle the problem for me)
WHAT JUST HAPPENED:
My heart feels like it is about to burst out of my chest with anxiety as I write this. Around ten o’clock I returned to Robin’s room to gather up my journal, quills, and whatever else I had left. She had been in her room and was concentrating on heating up some sort of mixture.
When she heard me enter, she whirled around, smiling widely (grabbed my hands and lead me to her desk), and rambled on about how the disease had been a new strain of an existing pathogen that I did not catch the name of. She gestured to the red liquid bubbling over an open flame, which I point out was a fire hazard, but she waved me off and told me she figured out a cure. If His Majesty was administered with this potion twice a day for a week, he would recover and be back to his regular health.
She swept me up in her excitement, I felt myself smiling over her discovery as well, even though her explanations were completely incomprehensible to me. She said that the draught would take a bit of time to boil and then cool, so she decided that we should break open a bottle of wine to celebrate. I agreed and offered to go get the bottle - didn’t want to disturb the servants this late.
On my way back from the kitchen, I saw our Lord Commander running in the direction of Robin’s room, hand on his sword. Our eyes met, his were frantic. “Katherine, Robin’s room. Now.”
Alarmed, I put the bottle down and I ran as well. When I arrived I saw Sean standing half-in, half-out of Robin’s room. He had drawn his weapon - the blade was stained bright scarlet - and Timothy, our Keeper of Coin, was lying on the ground, bleeding out. Dead, if not, he was surely dying. Robin had been backed into a corner, holding a container with a milky white liquid inside in one of her hands.
I asked what had happened and apparently while I was gone, Timothy had tried to attack Robin - evidenced by the dropped dagger on the ground - and Sean had gotten there just in time to stop him. It doesn’t make any sense, why would Timothy want to kill Robin? For a second I thought that they had murdered Timothy, but my mind quickly told me that I was thinking nonsense, they had just as little reason to kill Timothy. Then I realized Timothy was still very much alive when he tried to get up. Sean pushed him back down and, in a moment of inconsideration, called for Robin to bandage his wounds so that he could be taken in alive for questioning. Robin declined.
It seemed Sean realized what he did, and bandaged Timothy himself. After that, he dragged Timothy off.
Robin told me how Timothy had knocked on her door and when she opened it, he tried to slash at her throat with the dagger. She flinched backwards, the blade barely missing, before grabbing a potion off the shelf and running to the corner of her room. The liquid she explained was acid-like and would severely damage any skin it came into contact with. (I am glad for once that Robin keeps such dangerous things around, I do not want to think of what might have happened if she did not and Sean had not come in time)
I would go back for the bottle, but I doubt either of us really want to celebrate after that event. Robin is sitting on her bed, staring at the small puddle of blood on the floor. I should help her clean it up, but I can’t bring myself to move from the chair. She said that she would call for a servant to do so later. There is no sound, save for the scratch of my quill. I don’t think silence is good for her. I’m going to offer her my room to stay at.
It it calming, writing, but I cannot reflect on these events now. My mind is still whirling and my heart is still pounding, even thought I had not experienced the event firsthand. I hope Robin finds my room accommodating.
Questioning helps me. The murder of Captain Flynt and an attempt on our Grand Alchemist’s life in such short succession? There is something going on. Did Timothy kill the City Guard Captain too? I cannot imagine him killing anyone, he seems like a studious, unassuming man on the outside. Makes me slightly worried as to who else might secretly be evil. I hope they extract information from him. I cannot believe I almost lost my dear friend. I shall go to the blacksmiths and commission a weapon for Sean as a sign of gratitude. Maybe he’d like a warhammer, he doesn’t seem to have one of those in his arsenal yet.
I am tired. Robin seems so too.
I should leave to find a guestroom.
I went to take my leave, but Robin bade me to stay in case another attacker should come during the night. A weak argument. I do not know what good I would do as I have no combat experience and I feel it’d just be two birds with one stone if it’s an assassin. I sat myself next to her on my bed, and told her I won’t leave. She nodded and fell back on my bed, saying the potion has probably overboiled by now. Robin will have to restart tomorrow.
20 March 1546 - Robin’s Room
I could not for two reasons. One of them being that I was far too worried there would be another attempt on our Grand Alchemist’s life, and the other being that I offered Robin my own bed, so I had nowhere to sleep. I spent the night reading a book. It is still early in the morning and Robin is still asleep. Once she wakes, I will go catch up on my missed sleep. I shall write little today, I will be getting rest and then making sure that my sleep schedule is not thrown off. I will have extra work tomorrow, but such is how things go.
Sean did not return last night, he was probably occupied with imprisoning Timothy and informing the King and all other people of importance. However, he did see to it that two guards were stationed outside Robin’s room. I regret to say that brought me little peace, guards are not match for a trained assassin and I fear that while Timothy was clearly untrained, one more experienced would come to finish the job.
My nerves are a wreck, I do not believe this event has helped my emerging case of paranoia at all. (I do not actually have paranoia in a medical sense - at least I hope not - the usage of paranoia is more of a way of speech, per se) I wonder if I will be next. I hope not. My mind is a mess. I need sleep. Writing is not helping.
22 March 1546 - My Room
I slept nearly all of yesterday, got up around nine at night to get something to eat, tried to work on a few papers - but found myself unable to concentrate - and went back to sleep.
The day before, when Robin awoke, she nearly ran into our Lord Commander on the way out. He had been standing guard as it seems. Said he took over for the night shift a couple hours ago and will be seeing to it that Robin is kept safe. I thanked him and closed the doors before changing and going to bed. I think I caught a whiff of lavender before I blacked out.
There is much work to catch up on, it is around ten in the morning I believe. Not of me to sleep in this late. I still feel kind of groggy. That might get better after I find myself something to eat. I will check in on Robin, and then talk to Sean about what will happen to Timothy.
23 March 1546 - My Room
I forgot to update my journal yesterday. Did some missed work and then went to talk to Robin and Sean. When I came back I just fell asleep again I suppose. Strange. I need to break this patterns of naps before it becomes a habit. It’s greatly reducing the amount of work I’m getting done.
Anyways, Robin says she is fine. She has managed to successfully produce the potion and will be occupied with making sure His Majesty takes the medicine and stays on the path to recovery for the next week. Sean said that Timothy has been locked in the dungeons below and that tomorrow he and our Grandmaster of War are going to go question him. He said that I should be there to take notes, although he did not say I had to be. In truth I am not at all excited to see Timothy again, but duty calls I suppose. I said I would be there.
I will be catching up on two days of work now.
I hope Robin is as fine as she says. I should check in on her later, maybe bring her something.
24 March 1546 - The Dungeons
I am currently in the dungeons, sitting out of sight in front of Timothy’s cell. Besides me, Albert, Sean, and the executioner are all down here too. (The executioner doubles as the jailor) Timothy doesn’t look so good. I do not think his bandages have been changed and Sean did a rather poor job wrapping them the first time. I wonder if he has an infection. A couple of his fingers look to be broken (when I pointed that out I looked at Francis, but he merely shrugged and said nothing. I’m pretty sure he’s responsible), but other than that Timothy is fine. Questioning is starting now, I shall make notes here and transfer them later.
Francis went in to fetch Timothy, they have not chained him to the wall unlike a few other more violent prisoners down here. His hands are bound though.
I know I told Francis to not touch you. I hope he has not done anything. How are you? - Albert
Albert smiled and went on.
The date is the 24th of March, you won’t be in here for long. -Albert
Timothy, if you cooperate, I can see to it that your sentence is reduced. - Albert
This got a look from Timothy, one of skepticism.
I think you should take him out. It’s not smart to interrogate a prisoner when the person who stabbed him is right there. (He made a vague gesture towards Sean’s direction) - Timothy
Albert looked over at Sean, but our Lord Commander crossed his arms, lifted one eyebrow, and squarely planted himself into the ground. Albert seemed to get the sense he wasn’t going to leave.
Why did you attack Robin? - Albert
No response, Timothy refuses to look at us. He now seems determined to not talk.
Did you attack Robin with an intent to kill? - Albert
No response. (Will the rest of the questioning go the same way?)
Were you bribed? Threatened? We can help.
Was anybody else in on this plan? - Albert
How long have you been planning on killing Robin? - Albert
They stopped here, seeing they would get no answers from Timothy.
Sean pulled Francis to the side and exchanged a brief word with him. He seemed to say to Albert something on their way out, but whatever it had been Albert dismissed with a wave of his hand. Francis smiled at Timothy as he locked him back up.
25 March 1546 - The Red Garden
The skies are clear, and I thought to enjoy it before I get back to work again. The interrogation has been recorded officially, and the rest of the investigation can carry on without me until Timothy’s trial of course. All that’s left for me to do is give His Majesty an official overview of what happened for now. Albert has been visiting Robin everyday, with gifts to cheer her up. He says they’re rewards for bringing His Majesty back to health, but no one brings chocolates and lessons on chess as a gift for taking care of the king. Robin is talking more again, complaining about how Albert keeps beating her. I am relieved. She has been too quiet, not (and lord I never thought I would say this) mischievous enough.
My journal is running out of space. I cannot believe I filled up so many pages so quickly, I should have taken up journaling earlier. I wonder where Robin got the idea from, and if she keeps journals as well. I should buy another for April, although there is a part of me that hopes there will not be as many events to record next month. This one might last me through yet if that were to be the case.
Oh, I think I have just spotted our Lord Commander. He is walking with Wynn it appears. Seem to be in deep conversation about something. Ah, I do not really want to record the events of other people. That is my whole job after all, this journaling system is a way for me to relax. Sean is heading over here. I wonder is everything is alright.
I just received some, interesting information I suppose. Sean has informed me that he will be questioning Timothy again but this time he will transcribe the questions and answers himself. He will simply deliver them to me afterwards for me to make a neater copy of for official records. He must have see how hesitate I was to go down there the first time, but I went nonetheless did I not? Does he think I cannot perform my job? Is it either that or, or he is up to something sinister. I will not press the matter, I just want this entire ordeal to be over with.
Yesterday I went to the town and picked up more of her favorite blend of coffee for Robin. Last time I saw, it was running low. I hope it’ll further improve her mood, although I can’t help but feel that I should spend more time with her. Materialistic items can only go so far.
26 March 1546 - The Royal Archives
Sean stopped by early this morning to hand me the transcription. Did nobody teach this man how to write? His handwriting is worse than Robin’s. For fear of making error due to being unable to clearly read his words, I will copy it down here first and then transfer it when I am sure. It wouldn’t even be so bad if he hadn’t crumpled it up and what even are the splotches of dark on there? Did he upset his inkwell?
Upon closer examination, I think I have deduced what they are. I am glad I did not offer to go down there. Had Albert not said to not treat Timothy in such a way? I was never particularly close with the man, but he has done a good job for a kingdom for many years now - he was here before I was - does that count for nothing in the end? Anyways, I will transcribe this and be rid of the paper.
Do you know how many days have passed? (I suppose I will just assume it is Sean asking the questions)
If you cooperate, I can see to it that your sentence is reduced.
I would advise you to cooperate.
Why did you attack Robin?
I’ll give you an easy one. Was anybody else in on this plan?
Was anybody else in on this plan?
No. Yes. No. It was— (Did Sean just interrupt him here with the next question?)
Were you bribed? Threatened?
What did they offer you?
Who offered you this?
(Something here has been crossed out, I will ask Sean about it) I can’t say.
It will be fine. We’ll give you a reduced sentence.
I can’t say.
Who told you to attack Robin?
Fine, why did they want you to attack Robin?
They wanted me to kill her.
They needed to get rid of her.
I don’t know. (It seems the letter W has been crossed out here) They didn’t tell me. I promise. They just said to kill her.
I don’t know. I can’t say. (Something has been crossed out) I’m sorry.
So Timothy was not acting alone. That means someone else is still out there. I hope Sean has already told everyone that needs to know, I will go to double check and ask Sean about the crossed out words along the way.
Everyone has been informed that there is a second person and to be on the lookout for them. Security around Robin has been doubled. Sean shrugged when I showed him the transcript and told me that Francis had taken the notes and to ask him. I would, but he has left for the day since the night shift has taken over. Tomorrow.
27 March 1546 - The Royal Archives
I went into the dungeons today to ask Francis about the crossed-out words. He shrugged and said that he had forgotten. Oh well, I doubt they were all that important anyways. (Can you tell that I really want this matter to be over with?) I asked how Timothy was. “He’s as good as he can be” Was the response that I received. I must confess, I know our god would preach mercy, but I cannot bring myself to feel all that sympathetic towards Timothy after he tried to murder my best friend, so I did not inquire further. I asked Francis to keep me informed of anybody that comes to talk to Timothy, have to make sure that I’m not missing out on anything important. I know that at times like these things can get hectic and nobody cares to remember that the poor Bookkeeper has a job she has to fulfill.
Later today we discussed at the small council meeting a replacement for Timothy as well as his trial date. The trial will be held in three days before His Majesty and a panel of judges of His Majesty’s choosing. As for the replacement of the Keeper of Coin, they could not find one in such short time so I was to take over Timothy’s duties (because obviously I don’t already have enough to do) until they found a suitable replacement. I suppose this is what I get for being the only one in the councils with experience in the field of finances.
Anyways, I shall stop writing now as to tend to my new....duties. (Can you hear the annoyance in my tone?) I hope at the very least Timothy’s handwriting is decently neat. I don’t want to have to march down into the dungeons to ask him what this word on his document means.
28 March 1546 - The Royal Archives
Francis informed me that last night Wynn talked to Timothy, bearing a message from Albert. He said it was probably last request for him to name his co-conspirator. I asked if Timothy had done so, but Francis had not been close enough to hear. I will ask Wynn later.
I brought Robin a gift again. Scented candles, and ingredients for the Pink Potion of Doom (what a nice name) she told me about, that she didn’t have time to get herself. I asked her how she was doing. She said that the King had mostly recovered by now thanks to her potion and that she was fine.
Going through Timothy’s documents will take up much of today, I want to spend time with Robin, but we both have our work to do.
29 March 1546 - My Room
I have been informed that Timothy has gave up the name of his partner in crime last night. Walter Whiterun (apparently a member of the City Guard) has been arrested and his trial is to be held on the same day as Timothy’s. He pleaded his innocence the entire way to the dungeons according to Sean.
I have visited our renowned blacksmith and put in an order for a warhammer, I confess I do not know much about weaponry, but I casually mentioned that it was for our Lord Commander and he seemed to understand. He said he won’t be able to know the total cost of production until the end - which seems a bit sketchy - but I waved it off and I said I’d pay the price. Might not have been the wisest of decisions now that I reflect upon it.
I am pleased to report that Timothy’s documents are well organized and the print is eligible. He was a good Keeper of Coin. I wonder why he decided to take the path he did. And Walter chose him of all people to be an assassin, Timothy is as good with a sword as I am. (And by that I mean we are both just awful, in fact, I think the only reason Timothy is our Keeper of Coin is because his father sent him to university upon realizing that he was completely and utterly hopeless in combat)
30 March 1546 - The Royal Archives
The trial is tomorrow. I have to get my documents sorted out. I am having tea with Robin later tonight. I hope she doesn’t spill Muckweed into her drink again. For now, I must concentrate on my work.
Tea with Robin was pleasant, we chatted about how we thought the trial tomorrow was going to go. She doesn’t understand why Walter would send out a hit against her considering this is the first time she’s even heard of his name, so we hypothesized over reasons for a good time. We came to the conclusion that there had to be a greater plan in motion here, one that called for Robin’s death. I hope they will extract it from Walter.
31 March 1546 - The Great Hall
The trial is beginning to commence. I am currently sitting in the judges panel (not that I’m not a judge), next to Albert. Timothy and Walter have yet to arrive. His Majesty has chosen our Grandmaster of War, Lord Highwind, a noble that presides over the closeby town of Dogbell, and Lord Zidall, who presides over the town of Goldwich, to make up the panel of judges this time. Robin and Sean will be both called up as witnesses during the trial. I have paper in front of me for official note-taking, so this journal will be more of to record down things that would be too informal for me to put in the documents.
Timothy and Walter have entered. Must switch to the official papers now.
Timothy has plead guilty to his charge of attempted murder. (I hope that deal with Albert was worth it) He has been stripped of his rank and sentenced to twenty years in prison along with five hundred lashes. Albert whispered to me that the original punishment called for death by hanging. I do not know if this punishment is much better, hanging sounds a lot less painful and this might as well as be death. The man will likely die of disease before he is released.
Walter pleads innocence to a charge of murder by proxy and conspiracy. He is blabbing something about how he’s never even talked to Timothy before. Timothy is swearing that he has and that he was the one that sent him to kill Robin. Walter is calling Timothy a liar along with some more colorful words I shall not transcribe here. I must confess, I have a slightly morbid curiosity as to what will happen. Usually in cases like these the accused must pass an ordeal. We only have two, because the small council deemed the Ordeal by Water that other kingdoms employ as one that makes no sense for they die either ways. Oh crap, have to record in official papers now.
Walter has chosen Ordeal by Combat. He is his own champion. Unfortunate. Obviously Robin, his accuser, will not fight him, so she will nominate a champion. Oh, yep, she has picked Sean, Lord Commander of the Steel Legion and Royal Navy, supposedly undefeated in battle, great defender of the realm from the invasion of the west, etc, etc, etc. (Who saw that one coming, am I right?) I might as well as start writing the results of the ordeal right now, but whoever was the Bookkeeper before me always included the method of death during combat in their reports and I don’t want to lose consistency.
The combat date is set for two days. It’ll be open to the masses, which I’m sure will be exciting for the people. Sean is a war hero of sorts and few of them have ever actually seen him fight. I’m sure they’ll be eager to find out if all the songs and tales and rumors are true. (Some of the rumors are outright absurd, I heard one that claimed he had taken down an entire army by himself. He’s good, but he’s not that good. No offense intended, but it’s simply not realistic)
It seems we have come to the end of March. What an eventful month. One death, one case of attempted murder, a possible conspiracy, and I won’t be able to step foot in the town without hearing Sean’s name after it is announced there will be a trial by combat in which he stars. I hope April is calmer. I’d even dare to say that I hope it rains the entire month so that everyone stays indoors and is lulled to sleep by the soft patter of the raindrops and don’t do anything exciting. Now if you’ll excuse me, reflecting on these events have given me a headache of sorts. I need to rest. Or maybe have a drink. Or maybe both. I’m going to go with both.
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