IV: Day of Knights

This morning they woke me up early and forced me into a car without even doing me the courtesy of letting me drive.

Just because I don't have a license.

They told me I would feel "right at home" at this faire. I suppose that's because of the accents? As it stands, this is what passes for knights in these parts:

Not a bad-looking horse, though, so I met up with him later. His name is Luke.

And aside from his tendency to nibble my hair, we got on quite well.

Got a look at someone calling himself King John, though I overheard rumors he was nothing more than a trumped-up prince. He had someone called Maid Marian with him, and a lackey styling himself the Sheriff of Nottingham.

And then I was strong-armed into visiting some kind of fortuneteller.

She told me I was represented by the King of Wands, which I think sounds rather rude. Not that I trust her anyway.

As we were leaving, we were assaulted by a sort of caterwauling that turned out to be something that considered itself a band.

Though I must say, that more than anything made me feel at home, mostly because it reminded me of John. (He knows why.)


Much thanks to the Connecticut Renaissance Faire for their hospitality.

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