(Gadran 29th, 8th year of King Jerwin the Rotund’s reign)

     Well, that could have gone better. Forgot about the festival. The night of my planned visit to the mage’s study, everyone was up preparing for the king’s “Festival of the Portly” which was to take place in three days. Got caught in the study and was thrown in the dungeon with no food or water until after the festival. 

     That would have been terrible if the locks weren’t so old that they practically pick themselves. Or if the guards were any kind of competent. There’s one here whose  name is Jim who is particularly inept. Transfer from another kingdom, I guess. Or if the dungeon wasn’t on the ground floor of the castle. Seriously, I don’t get the architecture here at all! 

     So, out of the cell after the guard’s evening rounds, up to the study while everyone else is at the festival gorging themselves, bobbing for pumpkins, and playing un-pin the apron on the ale wench, and back to the cell before morning rounds. Easy peasy, lemon squeezy.

     WRONG! Difficult difficult, lemon difficult! Before I even have the first lock open, a guard, who apparently started the drunken festivities a little early, tripped over his own spear, knocked over a platter of roast meat and potatoes all over the King, turned to help pick it up, and head-butted the Queen, chipping the royal tooth, and stumbled backwards into a line of ale wenches, knocking two of them into the pumpkin tank. As a result, Jim is now my cellmate awaiting his trial and inevitable execution for chipping the Royal Tooth, and I’m stuck here. On the upside, bobbing for wenches has become the most popular activity at the Festival of the Portly, and this festival has been called the best in recent memory! 

     I need a new plan…