Day 3
Just what I need, more driftwood! That now unmistakably erroneous memory of being
alone when I crashed was lifted from me like the weight of a stack of books
comfortably resting upon the top of my head.
I awoke this morning to the soft mewing of a bit of my forgotten cargo,
thought to be washed away by the tide. I
was foolish enough to believe my involvement in that affair was lost along with
that padded crate.
It appears that the spiteful Neptune saw
fit to deposit the oversized mahogany cat-kennel a short distance from my camp,
with its contents relatively unharmed, royal command included. If only I had taken to the skys as soon as I
discovered that I had been misled to the nature of the cargo on the docks in
Howling Valley. If only I had turned a
blind eye to the parchment baring Her Majesty’s seal…
However, I did not, and since a higher authority
has yet to remove this burden, I still have my “ward” to look after. It’s not that I mind the presence of poor
Miss Aerith Kitase, but that I try to stay as removed from courtly intrigue as
possible. Why the Queen would want this
poor woman transported incognito and under harsh confinement is beyond me, and
I have absolutely no interest to find out.
However, I simply could not bear to see her restrained in such small accommodations
and felt morally obligated to release her for the duration of our voyage, no
matter how much she seemed to prefer the treatment.
I will say for Miss Kitase, I have rarely
had a finer meal, or a more attentive audience than while she was aboard. Yet, after several days of continuous
conversations, I still feel that I know next to nothing about her. Obedient and as docile as she is, I wonder if
she could be trained as a butler? There
is a surprising lack of them here. It is
against all etiquette to be forced to announce one’s own name upon entering a
room.
I should really learn to avoid cat-people. Nothing good has come of it to date.
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