Morning Has Broken

[Castle Carfax. Morning. The castle juts proud (and slightly lop-sided) from the mists of the mountain, slowly burning off in the hazy sunlight. Below in the valley, the village is quiet in the remaining fog, save for the occasional goat-bell. From a tall central tower, comes a deep and unearthly moaning.]


Rithe and thine!




Your breakfatht, marthter.

Mmr…aaah! Wh… What, Igor?


Never mind. Which fool came up with the idea of mornings?

I thall look in the library, thir.

No, never mind. We can make them suffer later. Excellent, Igor… breakfast in bed. Prompt as always. Maybe a little too prompt, for a Saturday morning, hmm?

It’th eleven o’clock, thir.

Yes, well, never mind… Igor, this crumpet… could you comment upon it?

It’th a yeatht-bathed bread product, thir?

No, Igor. The preparation of it.

It’th… made by Frau Müller in the village, marthter.

Yes, I know that. But what’s happened to it after that?

It’th been toathted, thir?

Yes, it’s toasted. It’s been toasted on this side, Igor. On the other side, it’s been charred. Little more than charcoal. Really, Igor, this isn’t good enough.

I’m thorry, marthter. I had to thtep out for a thecond, to feed the thing in dungeon fourteen. It wath hungry again.

Oh dear, hungry again? So soon? How are we for supplies?

Running low, thir. Thall I advertithe for more?

Yes, do so. The usual… process. Maybe we can make this one last a little longer. I suppose if I’m lucky, this one might even have a house worth buying. That last place was terribly inconvenient for London, even if it was near the estuary, and the neighbours were dreadful. All that coming and going, and the ruckus at Seward’s madhouse. Perhaps we can find somewhere quieter this time. Devon, maybe? I hear there’s a nice property at Coombe Tracy.

I thall make out the advertithement, thir. In the meantime, what thall I do about dungeon fourteen?

Oh, see if you can do something useful with the ferrets from the small hall. I think I’m done with them for now. Don’t forget to remove the electrodes and the chain mail first. After breakfast, I think I shall do my rounds of the third sub-basement. Fetch me my Turkish slippers and my sou’wester, and load the 10-gauge with silver shot.

Yeth, marthter!

Crossword: 13538