Chives in Immortalis Submits a Daily Nicolas Diary Entry on Wasp Keeping and Workplace Conduct

7th October, the Year of Our Undying Lord

Master Nicolas,

I submit this entry as per your standing directive, chronicling the mundane horrors of the day with the precision you demand. The wasps thrive, sir, their nests pulsing like black hearts in the shadowed eaves of the east wing. I attended to them at dawn, as is my custom, armed with the gauntlets you procured from that dubious apothecary in Vienna. The queen, whom I have named Agrippina after her imperious sting, has laid a fresh clutch. Seventeen larvae, by my count, writhing in their combs with a vigour that promises a winter swarm to rival last season’s depredations.

Feeding proved uneventful, save for the incident with young Master Elias, who ventured too near the apiary unannounced. The wasps took umbrage, naturally, and delivered three precise stings to his knuckles before I intervened with the smoker. He retreated cursing, but I reminded him of House Rule Seventeen: no unescorted prowling within thirty paces of the nests. His language bordered on the insubordinate, sir, but I noted it in the ledger and administered the requisite demerit. Workplace conduct must be maintained, even among the whelps.

On the matter of wasp husbandry, I recommend we reinforce the outer hives with fresh mortar, as the damp has encouraged mould. The creatures abhor weakness in their fortifications, much as we do in our own ranks. I harvested a modest venom yield, twelve vials, which I have stored in the cold larder beside the silver nitrate. Should you require it for your experiments, it is at your disposal. The pain is exquisite, sir, distilled to purity, far surpassing the crude venoms of the continentals.

Regarding broader workplace conduct: Cook persists in her pilfering of the sacramental brandy, a transgression logged thrice this week. I caught her mid-sip behind the pantry door, her apron stained with evidence. She pleaded hunger, but hunger excuses nothing in this house. I confined her to quarters for the evening, with bread and water only, and a reading of Protocol Four aloud to the scullery maids as deterrent. The maids themselves performed adequately, though the new girl, Bess, requires watching. Her glances at the silverware linger too long, suggestive of larcenous intent. I shall test her loyalty with a shadowed task tomorrow.

Footman Hargrove conducted himself impeccably during the afternoon polish of the grand hall. Not a speck on the porphyry urns, nor a whisper of complaint when the rags came away black with ancient residue. He inquired after your health, sir, and I apprised him that such matters are above his station. Silence is the servant’s sharpest tool.

The household hums with order under my vigilance, wasps and men alike subdued to purpose. Should any require your personal correction, I await your command.

Your obedient servant,
Chives

Immortalis Book One August 2026