August 17, 1609
King's Royal Breakfast:
~8 dozen eggs- sunny side up
~15 sausages
~22 flapjacks
~3 goblets of wine
~Some grits
This morning was no different from all the rest at the King's palace. He awoke even merrier than he has ever been, if that is possible. He glided past his Queen in an obvious state of giddy delirium. Once seated at his royal table and served his royal food, the royal fiddlers with their royal golden fiddles filed in to only make him merrier. It was a wonder that his fork didn't crash into his immense, gleaming teeth.
The morning passed in a blur, the King wandering aimlessly around his castle, trailed by the lofty sounds of his prized fiddlers three. He stopped occasionally to pick up his expired cat, who got more of his attention than the Queen. That poor ball of fluff had been dragged everywhere by King Cole before it finally passed away. However, the King is so optimistic that he doesn't seem to notice that cat is dead. So merry is he that he thinks its merely sleeping.
The King's painfully merry manor was contagious. Oh, wait. It wasn't. The happier he gets, the more he overlooks. The soldiers are in a state of mutiny, the peasants are starving, the Queen is having an affair with the cook...and the fiddlers! I saw Marybob leaving the kitchens this morning with a butchers knife, and Juanita cackling softly whenever His Majesty enters the room. The very air is teeming with it: murder! It's on the minds of everyone- except the merry old King's. We all know something's going to happen, and today, we found out wonderful news! The Royal Duc de Flemmington requested a royal concert preformed by the fiddlers three. To everyone's surprise, the King agreed! So, a royal concert is to be held in two days time. The perfect time for the crime to happen. I suppose its my duty as the official royal biographer to inform him of his upcoming demise, but I don't like him, either. Besides, it makes my biography that much shorter.
August 18, 1609
King's Agenda:
~Get fitted for clothes for the ball
~Be merry
~Ignore Queen
~Be merry
~Eat
~Be merry
~Listen to fiddler's three
~Possibly listen to the problems in the kingdom?
A clamor of pots awoke the king early this morning. Any other normal human being would be very annoyed, but the only remark that was uttered from the king was "What lovely music!" He is getting crazier everyday. The fiddlers were playing for the king this morning and it was disastrous. The fiddle strings were breaking and they were all out of tune. I cant imagine how they will ever by ready for the Duc de Flemington's concert tomorrow. The king, of course, wasn't worried at all. He just continued to dance about the royal bedchamber. I can't wait until he's dead.
Finally, he was ready to go and have his royal breakfast, and we were walking down the hall when a loud explosion erupted in the kitchen. The king didn't even flinch! As we passed the flaming kitchen, the cook ran out screaming with a line of thick, black smoke trailing him. The king only commented on how toasty and warm we were keeping the palace.
We are having a slight problem with the drapes and decorations for the concert. All we have is green and purple plaid cloth in which to use for the making of decorations. Oh well, at least we know the king wont mind. He will probably think that it is gold and silver. As of now, all we have to do is clean the palace, put up decorations, set up a stage, make the final touches on the king's robe, fix the royal fiddles, inform the king that the deceased cat that he is intent on carrying around is starting to make the palace smell, and put out the raging fire in the kitchen. I'm afraid we might be up all night.
Uh-oh! The queen is trying to talk to the king, but he is too busy poking her with a Swedish pickle. I'll have to fend him off with my killer sock.
1 August 19, 1609
Attendee List for the Ball:
Duc de Flemmington
The Royal Everyone from all the Royal Kingdoms of Everwhere
The Fashion Editor of Medieval Teen
Everyone awoke bright and early to prepare for the ball. A couple of the servants and I were planning to switch the King's dead cat with a stuffed animal today and see if he noticed. Not that it mattered, for the fiddlers were planning to switch the living King with a dead King. Bwahaha.
All day long, the preparations continued. The servants were preparing the ballroom, and the fiddlers were 'practicing' their fiddling. More than likely, they were plotting the murder. The Duc de Flemmington arrived at approximately quarter after three, and I was there when the fiddlers greeted him. Boy, did they fall for it bad. They immediately went upstairs to tune their fiddles and give the Duc the most fantastic music ever. Sigh. The fiddlers were so engrossed in making sure the Duc would buy them from the King that they completely forgot about the whole Let's- Kill-The-King thing. Maybe the peasants will revolt in a couple of months and do it themselves.
The beginning of the ball approached, and the King appeared from his chambers with a horribly distasteful green and pink tunic. His jolly old self thought it was a shame that the fabric was being thrown away, so he bought it himself and had a tunic fashioned out of it. The ball went smoothly without any major hitches, although there was a woman who kept staring at everyone's clothing while drooling. The fiddlers looked magnificent-decked out to the moon in ribbons and lace- and played just as splendidly. The Duc bought them immediately after the ball. The King could care less; he cheerily thought it as a wonderful excuse to go on a vacation and find more fiddlers. Afterwards, the King merrily through himself on the bed and snored cheerfully away. One of the butlers then performed the switch with the stuffed animal easily.
King's Royal Breakfast:
~8 dozen eggs- sunny side up
~15 sausages
~22 flapjacks
~3 goblets of wine
~Some grits
This morning was no different from all the rest at the King's palace. He awoke even merrier than he has ever been, if that is possible. He glided past his Queen in an obvious state of giddy delirium. Once seated at his royal table and served his royal food, the royal fiddlers with their royal golden fiddles filed in to only make him merrier. It was a wonder that his fork didn't crash into his immense, gleaming teeth.
The morning passed in a blur, the King wandering aimlessly around his castle, trailed by the lofty sounds of his prized fiddlers three. He stopped occasionally to pick up his expired cat, who got more of his attention than the Queen. That poor ball of fluff had been dragged everywhere by King Cole before it finally passed away. However, the King is so optimistic that he doesn't seem to notice that cat is dead. So merry is he that he thinks its merely sleeping.
The King's painfully merry manor was contagious. Oh, wait. It wasn't. The happier he gets, the more he overlooks. The soldiers are in a state of mutiny, the peasants are starving, the Queen is having an affair with the cook...and the fiddlers! I saw Marybob leaving the kitchens this morning with a butchers knife, and Juanita cackling softly whenever His Majesty enters the room. The very air is teeming with it: murder! It's on the minds of everyone- except the merry old King's. We all know something's going to happen, and today, we found out wonderful news! The Royal Duc de Flemmington requested a royal concert preformed by the fiddlers three. To everyone's surprise, the King agreed! So, a royal concert is to be held in two days time. The perfect time for the crime to happen. I suppose its my duty as the official royal biographer to inform him of his upcoming demise, but I don't like him, either. Besides, it makes my biography that much shorter.
August 18, 1609
King's Agenda:
~Get fitted for clothes for the ball
~Be merry
~Ignore Queen
~Be merry
~Eat
~Be merry
~Listen to fiddler's three
~Possibly listen to the problems in the kingdom?
A clamor of pots awoke the king early this morning. Any other normal human being would be very annoyed, but the only remark that was uttered from the king was "What lovely music!" He is getting crazier everyday. The fiddlers were playing for the king this morning and it was disastrous. The fiddle strings were breaking and they were all out of tune. I cant imagine how they will ever by ready for the Duc de Flemington's concert tomorrow. The king, of course, wasn't worried at all. He just continued to dance about the royal bedchamber. I can't wait until he's dead.
Finally, he was ready to go and have his royal breakfast, and we were walking down the hall when a loud explosion erupted in the kitchen. The king didn't even flinch! As we passed the flaming kitchen, the cook ran out screaming with a line of thick, black smoke trailing him. The king only commented on how toasty and warm we were keeping the palace.
We are having a slight problem with the drapes and decorations for the concert. All we have is green and purple plaid cloth in which to use for the making of decorations. Oh well, at least we know the king wont mind. He will probably think that it is gold and silver. As of now, all we have to do is clean the palace, put up decorations, set up a stage, make the final touches on the king's robe, fix the royal fiddles, inform the king that the deceased cat that he is intent on carrying around is starting to make the palace smell, and put out the raging fire in the kitchen. I'm afraid we might be up all night.
Uh-oh! The queen is trying to talk to the king, but he is too busy poking her with a Swedish pickle. I'll have to fend him off with my killer sock.
1 August 19, 1609
Attendee List for the Ball:
Duc de Flemmington
The Royal Everyone from all the Royal Kingdoms of Everwhere
The Fashion Editor of Medieval Teen
Everyone awoke bright and early to prepare for the ball. A couple of the servants and I were planning to switch the King's dead cat with a stuffed animal today and see if he noticed. Not that it mattered, for the fiddlers were planning to switch the living King with a dead King. Bwahaha.
All day long, the preparations continued. The servants were preparing the ballroom, and the fiddlers were 'practicing' their fiddling. More than likely, they were plotting the murder. The Duc de Flemmington arrived at approximately quarter after three, and I was there when the fiddlers greeted him. Boy, did they fall for it bad. They immediately went upstairs to tune their fiddles and give the Duc the most fantastic music ever. Sigh. The fiddlers were so engrossed in making sure the Duc would buy them from the King that they completely forgot about the whole Let's- Kill-The-King thing. Maybe the peasants will revolt in a couple of months and do it themselves.
The beginning of the ball approached, and the King appeared from his chambers with a horribly distasteful green and pink tunic. His jolly old self thought it was a shame that the fabric was being thrown away, so he bought it himself and had a tunic fashioned out of it. The ball went smoothly without any major hitches, although there was a woman who kept staring at everyone's clothing while drooling. The fiddlers looked magnificent-decked out to the moon in ribbons and lace- and played just as splendidly. The Duc bought them immediately after the ball. The King could care less; he cheerily thought it as a wonderful excuse to go on a vacation and find more fiddlers. Afterwards, the King merrily through himself on the bed and snored cheerfully away. One of the butlers then performed the switch with the stuffed animal easily.