Write about: the fortress.
We had our annual "Oh hey, we have lots of guests right now - to the garden with them!" fall harvest this morning. So many pumpkins surrounding Kat's parents house right now, along with ornamental, butternut, spaghetti, delicata, and festival squashes.
I shall have to get pictures before they're all sold or put away for winter.
Time for another iPhone picture. Here's Max at this weekend's market:
He got bored with being on either one of us at the stall pretty quickly, so we let him crawl around. It did not take him very long to find the mulch and leaves edging the park behind us.
Hidden away behind towering walls and thick gates, he eats well during the day and sleeps peacefully at night. Servants do his bidding on frantic feet, knowing their lives hang in the balance after every order that lands on their frail shoulders.
Enemies have muddied the fields beyond his fortress but their boots have yet to sully so much as his courtyard. Well trained and well paid guards in towers and in gatehouses have made sure of that since the day he took the throne.
He has given no man with any strength or renown to his credit even the slightest reason to betray him. His friends are few, chosen with exceptional care after a lengthy vetting process - and still their movements and company are tracked daily.
Worry is foreign to him, as is fear. For he believes that he is safe. No, I think he knows that he is safe.
We intend to prove him wrong.