Journal Entry 13

29. Juni 2020

Around 04:00 this morning, I met Jonas inside the large car park at the palace. The king and I got into one of his most prized possessions, a Jaguar, and drove south to the royal yacht at the marina in Feldkirch. Against my better judgment, we left without Jonas’s security detail in tow. However, once we boarded the ship, I was pleasantly relieved to find Damien Fernsby, the head of the king’s security detail, standing at attention when we entered the cockpit. As always, Jonas was one step ahead of me. I should have realized that the king would have security in place.

The North Sea was very moody as we set out to the Isle of Füssen. The choppy waves saw to it that I almost became a permanent fixture in the day head. By the time we disembarked the yacht, I could have sworn that there was nothing left of my insides. As we walked on the dock towards the awaiting vehicle, the king put his arm over my shoulder and said, “You haven’t changed a bit.” I had a few choice words for my best friend, but I lacked the energy to voice them aloud.

After Jonas and I got into the back seat of the large sedan, Damien drove us to Port Deighton Prison. It was time to pay a visit to the man who attempted to assassinate Jonas. Since there is always a possibility that we were being followed, especially by the press, I remained extremely observant of my surroundings. We were alone. Our automobile was the only vehicle on the treacherous road that hugged the island’s coastline.

When we arrived at the main gate of Port Deighton Prison, the Federal Correctional Officer refused to let our car enter. However, once Damien rolled down the black-tinted window to show the officer who was occupying the backseat of the automobile, the man had a change of heart. I have never seen the color drain from the face of a person like this officer’s had. Just then, the officer stumbled back into his small checkpoint and immediately opened the massive iron gate. I remember mentioning to Jonas that the officer looked as though he had seen a ghost. Jonas turned his head towards me and gave me a look that sent shivers down my spine. It was at that moment I knew something was wrong.

As we entered the main building, three guards on duty in the lobby quickly stood at attention and saluted the king. Jonas returned the salute and walked straight to the Federal Correctional Officer who sat behind the front counter. “I want to see him,” Jonas said in a powerful and firm voice. The officer’s face paled as the king spoke. Just then, Jonas’s fist slammed against the counter. “Now!” Jonas yelled. This type of anger was a side of the king, for which I have only seen on a few occasions.   

The door behind the officer suddenly swung open loudly. Der Gefängnisdirektor walked towards the king, looked into his eyes, and stated, “Er ist tot.“ I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. How could the man who attempted to assassinate the king be dead? What exactly was the prison director insinuating? It was then that Jonas grabbed my forearm and pulled me away from the counter as he calmly turned to Damien and said, “Get the car.“

Returning to the mainland on the royal yacht, we stayed silent. The king would speak to me when he was ready. As Jonas drove us back to the palace in his Jaguar, he said only a few brief words to me; “Ian, never underestimate Prime Minister Northcott.”