How to cure a Dark Lord

Light spilled through my curtains and into my room. It was another morning already. I woke up with a stretch and yawned.

It was another morning of another day and it was time to get up and begin to make medicine for the Dark Lord again. That ungrateful tyrant, I fumed.

 He was the reason for all my suffering and I sure was going to pay him back for it. I got out of the blankets and set my foot down ready to get up with a wave of pain radiated through my feet.

 I looked down at my now bandaged toe with a sigh.

Last night, after laughing at my pain, Mr Kellan had asked that I sit in his chair. The same chair that almost cost me my right big toe. Then he disappeared out of the library again.

 When he returned, he was holding a piece of wool, a bottle and a white cloth. Did he bring all these, for me?

I stood up and tried to take the items from him but he raised his arm higher than I could reach and asked me to sit.

I sat with a huff and watched as the Mr Kellan got on his knee and began to work on my feet.

He soaked a piece of the wool in the content of the bottle which I later found to be alcohol and dabbed it on where I had a cut on my toe. I hissed in pain and tried to sit still but it felt like my entire leg was on fire.

After cleaning the area of the cut, he put a piece of wool and covered it, tying it up with a the cloth he had brought. When he was satisfied with the work he did, I was impressed.

I guess I thought so lowly of him since I thought he was just an evil tyrant. He wrapped my big toe so well that I was even starting to feel better.

Then Mr Kellan left the room and asked a guard to help me to my room. And that was how I ended up back in my room after a long day.

I hobbled to the corner of the room where there was a basin of water for me to wash my face. I felt something leave me with a faint thud. It was a piece of paper. The same piece of paper I had found in my basket yesterday. I had not had the time to read it and I forgot all about it.

I picked it up and unfolded it. It read

If Friday night becomes a trouble,

don't forget to meet me at the tunnel;

It's a dead end here, you might say,

But it is not. There lies the way.

A brick, quite different from the others,

Will lead you safely out of the palace.

Well, I had never seen a worse rhyme in my life. But I think I knew how the note got into my basket. Rowland put it there.

I remembered the man that bumped into me at the market yesterday. He was as tall and broad as the crown prince.

How did I not recognize him? I thought with a smile. I read the note once again and tried to make sense of it. He was trying to direct me to the tunnels he had talked about.

All I had to do was decipher where it was from this silly poem of his.

I took my bath and changed. My hair was in its usual plait, never to be set free. Then I stepped out of my room.

"Milady." One of the two guards that were posted to guard my room called me while I was in my way to limp down the stairs.

I turned around to see what it was.

The guard stepped forward a bit shyly and gave me a little bow.

"His Majesty commands that we shouldn't let you walk on your injured foot as it might not heal on time."

"Well, how am I supposed to get to the courtyard if I can't walk?" I asked incredulously.

"His Majesty commands that I carry you to where you need to go."

"Carry me?" I blurted out in disbelief.

The guard nodded.

The king ordered him to carry me now? Well it was his fault I was injured anyway, he snuck up on me. But still, why would he order them to carry me. He might as well come and carry me himself.

"No, but thank you. I'll get down on my own." I gave him a smile and proceeded to climb down the stairs again.

"No Milady, please. Let me carry you." the guard insisted. I sighed exasperatedly. If I didn't agree, the evil tyrant might take it out on this poor guard only trying to do his job.

The guard bent low so I could get on his back. This was too embarrassing but I hopped on his back, hoping I wouldn't be too heavy for his to carry. But he supported me without a hitch in his breath and we took the stairs down to the first floor.

As we walked through the hallway of the first floor, I noticed the servants gave us curious and amused glances. It was not their fault though. The Dark Lord was the one to be blamed for all this. But the guard didn't seem to be affected at all by this and just kept on walking.

"To the courtyard, Miss?" he asked.

"No, the kitchen first."

He nodded and continued to the kitchen. As we arrived the kitchen, I found the head chef packing food unto a trolley. When he saw me, he became visibly worried.

"Miss Frieda. Are you alright?" He came over and asked.

The guard dropped me on my feet and the head chef helped me to the table.

"I'm fine. I hurt my toe yesterday and I need help getting around."

"Oh, I'm sorry. Here, have a seat. I'll get your breakfast. I was quite surprised when Gilbert asked me to make the most nutritious breakfast for you. Now I see why."

Mr Kellan must have told Gilbert to do that. Was it just because of my toe? Or did it have something to do with what I said yesterday about him not being grateful?