Fulfilling the duties as Lord of the castle doesn’t improve my already testy disposition. Ayres demands an hour meeting regarding the castle’s daily updates the moment I return from hunting my lunch. When he finishes with me, the cooks complain how I always go out for my meals. I remind them I had been in the dining room for breakfast. That barely mollifies them. The maids and gardeners stop me as I headed out of the kitchens. They desire a raise. “I’ll review your contracts,” I answer. “Ask Ayres to put them on my desk.” Satisfied, they scurry off to finish their day’s work. “Lord Monroe!” The steward blocks my passage in the hallway. “What is it?” “We’ve a problem in the chicken coop.” “Should I be concerned?” The steward shifts his weight from his left foot onto his right. “Ten of them escaped and we can’t find them.”
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