And so it was one of those lousy days again. The sun was shining, the rats were playing in the attic, and a flock of crows had assembled near the barracks, apparently busy eating on a dead rabbit. These were nay good signs at all. A beautiful day, a perfect day to work on, and I was out of money.
The liqour from Vesper had... Vaporated somehow, the bottles were dry. And since I knew that Carlottas general policy of credit was, well, she had none, I once again needed to head out with my trusty old pickaxe on a hunt after chunks of ore. I was just about to leave, when I met Hoagie at the door. I smiled warmly, greeted him and followed him to a chair.
"Great, I might not need to bust me back after all! Hoagie has always some coins in his pockets!" I thought, apparently out loud, since Hoagie coughed out 'What'd ye say?', "Erm... Is it possible to store honey in lockets?" I hastily replied, and Hoagie answered with a 'No!' and a slight murmur hieroglyphs. I let out a sigh of relief and contineud working on my plan, this time without any vocals. "Hrm... he has been at me back for quite some time lately, because of
my illegal activities no reasons at all! I have to be clever, working towards my aim..."
I came to think of his horse, Jasper which I
used to feed cheese Hadn't seen for a while. "If I start to ask him about Jasper, he will surely trying to end my questions with a beer!"
After asking Hoagie a few questions about Jaspers whereabouts, which he answered with a half-murmur of words, he finally said that he had let Jasper sign into a retirement home, for horses. I had never heard of such a place. Of course I went on with my questions, wondering why he hadn't let the local citizenry treat his horse?
After a few more of those questions of mine, he cracked and gave in. But alas, the mission was only half a success. I still needed to work for my beer, although with better conditions, and I didn't really find out what's become of old Jasper. Hoagie has tighter lips than a clam! he avoided all the questions. Should have some shillings though, for repairing the suit of armor, of this dismissive dragoon...
*Signed in thick handwriting*
/ Farfar.
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