Secret Diary IX - About Man-Eating Plants, Kobolds and Outlaws

May 28, 1921

Very tired tonight. The past few days were filled with physical labour and yet another unusual adventure. Building a windmill is not an easy feat and saving our friends from a man-eating plant wasn’t a picnic either. Not that I got a lot of thanks for trying to save them. The second she knew we were all out of danger, Marguerite started with her relentless jibes about me and my proclivities for poorly dressed jungle tarts. Will it ever end? She really knows how to hold a grudge!

Challenger had taken pity on me and asked her and Veronica to go collect medicinal herbs with him. A day or two of peace and quiet seemed in store for us, just Malone and I, conversation between gentlemen, a hunting story or two, some recollections of Plateau adventures, while sipping a glass of brandy… Alas, Challenger asked us to work on the windmill, at which Marguerite commented with the rather rude remark “Good, that way they won’t be tempted to run after jungle tarts.” She can’t let it go, can she? As if I haven’t shown the utmost dedication to all our projects. Only the most unusual circumstances have led me astray. A damsel in distress. An Amazon that I shared a bed with only to outsmart her. A vampire… Well, better not go there. Some things are best forgotten and buried.

Malone and I worked hard and while neither of us proved to have outstanding abilities as engineers, I must say I did enjoy his company. The lad is well-read and has a lot of knowledge about many aspects of life. I was a bit put off by his cheeky remark that I’m not very picky with regards to female companionship, especially when it comes to a woman’s intellect. Silly lad! I’m so misunderstood sometimes.

But our disagreement was only short-lived. On our way home from the windmill, we discussed how to keep in shape even with a jam packed schedule of repairs and maintenance. The boy is truly our resident fitness buff. His suggestions about effective routines to sculpt your abdomen and get the desired six-pack look are to be taken seriously. Since I’ve lost weight on that low-carb diet and thanks to the low-fat cuts of raptor meat we usually prepare, my abs have definitely improved, but I think I can get into even better shape. Mother Nature has been good to me, but let’s not forget that Father Time doesn’t sleep. I need to be alert and not let flab mar my manly appearance.

I didn’t have much time to test his fitness tips, as we both were getting worried about the prolonged absence of Marguerite, Veronica and Challenger. Little did we know that they were held hostage in a village that was ruled by a man-eating plant. I’m glad to say that we were able to rescue them and help liberate the young villagers from the tyranny of the evil plant. It was quite interesting to see Marguerite around some of the children. A little boy took quite a fancy to her and while she claimed not to care about the ‘filthy urchin’, I saw her bestow kind words and a gentle caress to his admittedly rather dirty cheek. Her occasionally harsh manner hides a soft heart. Of course there was no softness in her demeanour when she saw that Malone and I hadn’t made much progress on the windmill. She asked us whether we were just inept or whether another jungle tart had diverted our attention from our construction project. Will it ever end?

June 9, 1921

We returned from the kobolds two days ago and I’m happy to report that Veronica and Marguerite are much less inclined to make remarks about our interest in jungle tarts. A little hint here and there about how they fought over Alex and they both get very meek. A most unusual attitude for these ladies! “Brother” Ned and “old” Lord John are having a jolly good time reminding them of their folly.

Both are very embarrassed by how easily they let their guard down when they met the seemingly harmless geologist. Alex and his kobolds proved to be a menace not only to the Plateau, but to the entire planet. Challenger has been in very low spirits following the death of Lionel Holt. I think it’s not only the death of his old friend that saddens him, but also the realization that scientists are easily led on a path of destruction. Marguerite and I talked about this tonight and she agreed with my thoughts. Our interest in the well-being of our resident genius made for a most pleasant conversation. I asked her whether she’d be willing to go on a little expedition with me to explore the southern region of the Plateau and she agreed. She said, “I hardly can let you go by yourself, someone needs to make sure you don’t run after a jungle tart,” but she said it in such a charming voice that I didn’t mind. And I retorted that I’d make sure that she didn’t fall for the next kobold that came along and her slight blush was most charming. I can’t wait to spend some time with her again. It has been a while…

June 15, 1921

A harrowing adventure, a scar on my manly chest and a brand new outfit for Marguerite! The long awaited expedition – only Marguerite and I spending some much needed quality time, just the two of us, no nosy reporter, no jungle beauty who has a tendency to barge in at the most inopportune times and no scientist who thinks his lectures are more interesting than small talk with my lady. My lady… Well, after our last adventure I think I can use this term of endearment with some justification. She finally admitted that she cares for me. Not in as many words, but if you take words, actions and a very sweet kiss, you can come to only one conclusion.

As usual our expedition didn’t work out as planned. We found a fissure in a mountain that looked like a promising way off the Plateau and we entered a very interesting valley through an unusual light phenomenon. It became clear pretty soon that it wasn’t necessarily a way out and we decided to gather some more intelligence in a village. I wasn’t in a hurry and flirted a bit with her. She was uncommonly open to flirtation that day and when I was getting ready to kiss her, we of course immediately were interrupted by the arrival of an outlaw. It’s always something, isn’t it? A set of circumstances that would do an opera proud led to our imprisonment in the English village. In an outrageous display of injustice we were sentenced to death and nearly hung. A typical day on the Plateau, you might say, but this time I was also shot by one of the nasty villagers. The wound was serious, but thanks to Marguerite who cauterized it and prevented an infection, my life wasn’t in real danger. My lovely lady is truly a survival artist. I’m lucky to have her by my side.

But not all is well. The wound will undoubtedly leave a most unsightly scar. I think my days of shirtless labour are finally over. I made a mention of this tonight, when Marguerite asked me why I was so dejected and whether my wound still hurt. Her reaction was very sweet. She assured me that a handsome man with my rugged looks is even more attractive when he has a few scars here and there. She said that I should be careful not to expose the scar to the sun too early and if I do, I should let her know so she can apply sunscreen. I told her that the scar isn’t hard to reach and I could do it myself. She whispered in my ear that she believed that a soft female hand was much better equipped to handle such a delicate task. I couldn’t agree more. She is truly a modern day Florence Nightingale!

Marguerite practices modern medicine

The healing effect of this kiss was most astounding