+JMJ+
Diary of a Hunter Prince
Part 6
Being the Sixth Day of the Green Season
Dear Little Book,
I do not suppose you ever crawled one armed through a stinking tunnel through the sewers in search of the one that led to the dungeons? No I doubt it. Anyway it stinks as much as it sounds. I would say I was alone with the dark and the smell, except that would truly be a lie. Hugo was walking almost bent over carrying a torch in front of me, and Philip was crawling behind me, with some supplies. I was allowed to go without a burden as I was slow enough as it was. I hate writing left-handed.
Regards,
Myself
Being the Seventh Day of the Green Season
Dear Little Book,
We got out of the stinking sewer and walked up through an abandoned dungeon. I think it was once used for isolating prisoners. There was a short staircase and a wooden door. The door was broken and had not been used in years. It was half hidden behind a bookshelf. We wriggled out and found ourselves in a glorious library. It was full of older books then the most ancient ones in father's library. In the center of a room was a carved wooden stand of ancient wood. A fat leather bound book of much newer make was lying open on it. Footprints covered the dusty floor. I darted of to the stand. Obviously someone had used this room quite recently, but had never bothered to clean it.
“I have never seen this place before.” Philip murmured as he inspected the scrolls on the shelves. I studied the book.
Being the year of the Seventh Solar Constructions Between the three moons and the Planet Martowain, so ends the linage of King Sylvester of Kildimere.
“Um, Philip?” I asked, “When was the year of the Seventh Solar Construction Between the three moons and the Planet Martowain?”
“The what?” Philip asked turning around.
“Study your history my prince.” Hugo said in a grownup voice, “That was about twenty-four years ago.”
“Oh the year of the Seventh Moon?” Philip asked.
“That is the worst shortening for such a terrible title.” I said in disgust, and I continued reading.
Sylvester's life would have been spared except for one small detail. Rushamorn's inheritance was cut off when Philip VI of Kildimere was born. Son of Sylvester CI and Jangle the Gypsy. The marriage was kept secret on account of Jangle's status. But little escapes Rushamorn. The girl was murdered. But few can get around the trickeries of the gypsies. Rushamorn returned to the palace to find Sylvester preparing to present his son as his heir. Philip was kidnapped and Sylvester murdered. Rushamorn kept the child alive as his heir. But if Rushamorn were to produce a child of his own, Philip's life would be ended as quickly as that of his parents.
Long Live Philip VI of Kildimere, Lord of the Seven Pools and Allied Commander of the Seven Worlds. Long may you reign.
“What are you reading?” Philip asked. I slammed the book and handed it to Hugo. The Kildimeran prince looked startled.
“What do I want with this?” Hugo protested. I snatched the torch from him.
“Take it back to my hiding hole.” I said.
“You are trying to get rid of me?” Hugo whispered in a faltering voice.
“Exactly!” I said, although I had been thinking no such thing, “This is to dangerous a quest for you.”
“Finally you see sense.” Philip said. Out argued, Hugo went back down through the dungeon with the book. Philip forgot to ask about it again. My brain was spinning. How could I make this information useful?
Regards,
Myself
Being the Eight Day of the Green Season
Dear Little Book,
We found the dungeons. Early this morning, Philip and found a narrow passage and squeezed through. It opened into a guard room, but was blocked by a wine keg. When I peeked around the keg I saw two Wolves removing their armor. Shabbily dressed guards were helping them.
“I can hardly wait to take my whip to that cream faced brat!” one of the Wolves snarled, “I will teach her to mouth off at me.” I glanced over my shoulder at Philip and laid a finger on my lips. He nodded. I turned back and my eye was caught by two executioner masks on the table. The perfect disguise. We could walk unseen in full view disguised as torture masters. Once the guardroom was deserted we committed the theft. We were already dressed in black with black cloaks as are own masked rebel costumes were a bit conspicuous for every day.
Regards,
Myself
Being the Ninth Day of the Green Season
Dear Little Book,
Down in the creepy blackness of Rushamorn's dungeons the executioner's mask is hailed with reverence. Philip and I not only could walk silently wherever we pleased, but we were bowed to and waited upon. No one asked us questions either. But every time we passed an occupied cell I felt sick. The prisoners were in wretched conditions. Many of them were whipped regularly. Other figures in masks were often seen doing their dirty work. To avoid trouble Philip and I never spoke to one another and split up as soon as we left our hideout. But so far there was no sign of Goldie or the Hag.
Regards,
Myself
Being the Twelfth Day of the Green Season
Dear Little Book,
We found them. Or rather Philip reported to me as soon as I arrived at the hole that he found where they are being held. A lower level. He heard Goldie screaming and ranting. He tried to run and rescue her, but could not find the stairs. Lucky for us, I had seen a stairs yesterday but hardly found it important. Tomorrow starts the rescue. Philip says if he ever gets to be king he is going to release the poor wretched prisoners.
Regards,
Myself
Being the Thirteenth Day of the Green Season
Dear Little Book,
We had just entered the guard room, when one of the dungeon servants darted in. I froze. Had we been discovered.
“Ah masters.” the servant cried with a clumsy bow, “Come quick. The Wolves are going to torture the rebels. We require some of the Masters to ensure that the machines go smoothly.” Rebels could only mean Goldie and the Hag.
“Lead on!” I said grimly. Philip said nothing.
We went down two levels to the worst torture room in the palace. I wanted to vomit at the sight of it. The floors were stained an ugly rusty brown. The walls were splattered the same color. Designs had been scratched into the coloring. Crudely spelled words about death, bitterness and revenge. Hangman's images, gallows, butchering chop and many other more unpleasant things. I tried not to shudder. In the center of the room was a pillar that reached to the ceiling. Rusty spikes tinged with dried blood protruded from the pillar. Rusty chains splattered with dried blood hung from the pillar. Two axes stuck out of the pillar near the top. A half naked man with a torn and bloodied body hung by his feet in a corner.
Screams echoed down the the corridor behind us. I shuddered. Then Goldie and the Hag were brought in by two huge and very ugly Wolves. They had removed all there armor and were only armed with whips.
“It is time master reapers.” one of them laughed cruelly, “I have dreamed have punishing the rebels, now I shall take all my-” he stopped talking and stared. I jumped up and yanked one of the axes out of the pillar.
“Rush doesn't want them killed just yet.” the second Wolf said sharply.
“Come in!” I hissed.
“And shut the door!” Philip said grimly, as he snatched the second ax out of the pillar.
“Wait a second.” the first Wolf cried, “I know your voice, but you are-” both axes flew forward. Goldie screamed. The Hag took advantage of the situation by darting away from her captors, into the room. Two writhing bodies struck the floor, adding fresh blood to the already stained stones.
“What have you done?” the servant squawked. I whirled and caught him by the wrist. Philip chained his left arm to the pillar.
“Waylan!” Goldie shrieked and jumped into my arms. How she recognized me, I do not know. But she did. I pulled off my mask and embraced her.
“Help!” the servant screamed. Philip checked his memory. Then we released the almost unrecognizable prisoner.
“We can hardly leave him here.” Goldie said.
“Of course not.” the Hag said sharply, “I trust you boys have a good escape.” Oh boy did we. Philip draped the body of the prisoner over his shoulder. I put on my mask and bound the girls together. Then I herded them up the steps. To any overly inquisitive eyes we looked like regular executioners taking care of some prisoners.
Regards,
Myself
Diary of a Hunter Prince
Being the Sixth Day of the Green Season
Dear Little Book,
I do not suppose you ever crawled one armed through a stinking tunnel through the sewers in search of the one that led to the dungeons? No I doubt it. Anyway it stinks as much as it sounds. I would say I was alone with the dark and the smell, except that would truly be a lie. Hugo was walking almost bent over carrying a torch in front of me, and Philip was crawling behind me, with some supplies. I was allowed to go without a burden as I was slow enough as it was. I hate writing left-handed.
Regards,
Myself
Being the Seventh Day of the Green Season
Dear Little Book,
We got out of the stinking sewer and walked up through an abandoned dungeon. I think it was once used for isolating prisoners. There was a short staircase and a wooden door. The door was broken and had not been used in years. It was half hidden behind a bookshelf. We wriggled out and found ourselves in a glorious library. It was full of older books then the most ancient ones in father's library. In the center of a room was a carved wooden stand of ancient wood. A fat leather bound book of much newer make was lying open on it. Footprints covered the dusty floor. I darted of to the stand. Obviously someone had used this room quite recently, but had never bothered to clean it.
“I have never seen this place before.” Philip murmured as he inspected the scrolls on the shelves. I studied the book.
Being the year of the Seventh Solar Constructions Between the three moons and the Planet Martowain, so ends the linage of King Sylvester of Kildimere.
“Um, Philip?” I asked, “When was the year of the Seventh Solar Construction Between the three moons and the Planet Martowain?”
“The what?” Philip asked turning around.
“Study your history my prince.” Hugo said in a grownup voice, “That was about twenty-four years ago.”
“Oh the year of the Seventh Moon?” Philip asked.
“That is the worst shortening for such a terrible title.” I said in disgust, and I continued reading.
Sylvester's life would have been spared except for one small detail. Rushamorn's inheritance was cut off when Philip VI of Kildimere was born. Son of Sylvester CI and Jangle the Gypsy. The marriage was kept secret on account of Jangle's status. But little escapes Rushamorn. The girl was murdered. But few can get around the trickeries of the gypsies. Rushamorn returned to the palace to find Sylvester preparing to present his son as his heir. Philip was kidnapped and Sylvester murdered. Rushamorn kept the child alive as his heir. But if Rushamorn were to produce a child of his own, Philip's life would be ended as quickly as that of his parents.
Long Live Philip VI of Kildimere, Lord of the Seven Pools and Allied Commander of the Seven Worlds. Long may you reign.
“What are you reading?” Philip asked. I slammed the book and handed it to Hugo. The Kildimeran prince looked startled.
“What do I want with this?” Hugo protested. I snatched the torch from him.
“Take it back to my hiding hole.” I said.
“You are trying to get rid of me?” Hugo whispered in a faltering voice.
“Exactly!” I said, although I had been thinking no such thing, “This is to dangerous a quest for you.”
“Finally you see sense.” Philip said. Out argued, Hugo went back down through the dungeon with the book. Philip forgot to ask about it again. My brain was spinning. How could I make this information useful?
Regards,
Myself
Being the Eight Day of the Green Season
Dear Little Book,
We found the dungeons. Early this morning, Philip and found a narrow passage and squeezed through. It opened into a guard room, but was blocked by a wine keg. When I peeked around the keg I saw two Wolves removing their armor. Shabbily dressed guards were helping them.
“I can hardly wait to take my whip to that cream faced brat!” one of the Wolves snarled, “I will teach her to mouth off at me.” I glanced over my shoulder at Philip and laid a finger on my lips. He nodded. I turned back and my eye was caught by two executioner masks on the table. The perfect disguise. We could walk unseen in full view disguised as torture masters. Once the guardroom was deserted we committed the theft. We were already dressed in black with black cloaks as are own masked rebel costumes were a bit conspicuous for every day.
Regards,
Myself
Being the Ninth Day of the Green Season
Dear Little Book,
Down in the creepy blackness of Rushamorn's dungeons the executioner's mask is hailed with reverence. Philip and I not only could walk silently wherever we pleased, but we were bowed to and waited upon. No one asked us questions either. But every time we passed an occupied cell I felt sick. The prisoners were in wretched conditions. Many of them were whipped regularly. Other figures in masks were often seen doing their dirty work. To avoid trouble Philip and I never spoke to one another and split up as soon as we left our hideout. But so far there was no sign of Goldie or the Hag.
Regards,
Myself
Being the Twelfth Day of the Green Season
Dear Little Book,
We found them. Or rather Philip reported to me as soon as I arrived at the hole that he found where they are being held. A lower level. He heard Goldie screaming and ranting. He tried to run and rescue her, but could not find the stairs. Lucky for us, I had seen a stairs yesterday but hardly found it important. Tomorrow starts the rescue. Philip says if he ever gets to be king he is going to release the poor wretched prisoners.
Regards,
Myself
Being the Thirteenth Day of the Green Season
Dear Little Book,
We had just entered the guard room, when one of the dungeon servants darted in. I froze. Had we been discovered.
“Ah masters.” the servant cried with a clumsy bow, “Come quick. The Wolves are going to torture the rebels. We require some of the Masters to ensure that the machines go smoothly.” Rebels could only mean Goldie and the Hag.
“Lead on!” I said grimly. Philip said nothing.
We went down two levels to the worst torture room in the palace. I wanted to vomit at the sight of it. The floors were stained an ugly rusty brown. The walls were splattered the same color. Designs had been scratched into the coloring. Crudely spelled words about death, bitterness and revenge. Hangman's images, gallows, butchering chop and many other more unpleasant things. I tried not to shudder. In the center of the room was a pillar that reached to the ceiling. Rusty spikes tinged with dried blood protruded from the pillar. Rusty chains splattered with dried blood hung from the pillar. Two axes stuck out of the pillar near the top. A half naked man with a torn and bloodied body hung by his feet in a corner.
Screams echoed down the the corridor behind us. I shuddered. Then Goldie and the Hag were brought in by two huge and very ugly Wolves. They had removed all there armor and were only armed with whips.
“It is time master reapers.” one of them laughed cruelly, “I have dreamed have punishing the rebels, now I shall take all my-” he stopped talking and stared. I jumped up and yanked one of the axes out of the pillar.
“Rush doesn't want them killed just yet.” the second Wolf said sharply.
“Come in!” I hissed.
“And shut the door!” Philip said grimly, as he snatched the second ax out of the pillar.
“Wait a second.” the first Wolf cried, “I know your voice, but you are-” both axes flew forward. Goldie screamed. The Hag took advantage of the situation by darting away from her captors, into the room. Two writhing bodies struck the floor, adding fresh blood to the already stained stones.
“What have you done?” the servant squawked. I whirled and caught him by the wrist. Philip chained his left arm to the pillar.
“Waylan!” Goldie shrieked and jumped into my arms. How she recognized me, I do not know. But she did. I pulled off my mask and embraced her.
“Help!” the servant screamed. Philip checked his memory. Then we released the almost unrecognizable prisoner.
“We can hardly leave him here.” Goldie said.
“Of course not.” the Hag said sharply, “I trust you boys have a good escape.” Oh boy did we. Philip draped the body of the prisoner over his shoulder. I put on my mask and bound the girls together. Then I herded them up the steps. To any overly inquisitive eyes we looked like regular executioners taking care of some prisoners.
Regards,
Myself
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