He scrambled out of the water and, with a slightly calmer head, decided to call in S.W.A.T. But his cell phone didn’t work, despite being said to be waterproof – someone seemed to be saving on police equipment again, preventing him from doing his job properly.
„Hey, guys,“ he called to the two students, „don’t you have a cell phone? I don’t have a signal here or it has broken because of the water.“
„What doeth the fobdoodle want to tell us?“ One of them asked.
„What is in thy cell? A foal?“ The other hesitated, shaking his head.“ Why dost thou have a foal in thy cell?“
„No, he’s talking about a signum – a seal,“ the first muttered, asking aloud, „Dost thou need a scribe?“
„I need to call Prague,“ the policeman repeated his request.
The men burst out laughing.
„Try to climb a tree,“ one suggested. „If thou makest a loud call, thy voice may be heard in the neighboring village, but in Prague?“
„Dost thou see his clothes?“ The other whispered softly. „I believe he is crazy and surely he is drunken, too.“
One of the guards walked over to Frost, poked the strange guy in the sign in his chest, and asked, „What is a police?“
Peter Frost knew about the local school, that students were learning about the past through various games, but now he was not in the mood for it.
„Enough, boys,“ he said to the young guards. „This is a serious matter, I really need to call S.W.A.T.“
„I can swat thee, if thou thinkest thou might sober thus,” one of them offered with a laugh, hoping he finally understood the weirdo a little.
Mr. Frost frowned. „It’s nice of you to love that school, but I’m investigating something important here, so it would be nice if you stopped playing we were in the fifteenth century for a while, or whatever year you pretend it is.“
„It’s the year 1625,“ the guard tried to be a little helpful to him, „I’m sure thou art very drunken when thou art not aware what time it is.“
„Thou art are in the lands of the Czech crown,“ added the other man, convinced that the fool he was talking to had completely lost his head, „and our ruler is-„
„I know very well what year it is and that Milos Laird is the ruler here,“ Frost snapped, „this is thwarting the police investigation,“ he continued angrily, „and I don’t like your stupid jokes anymore. You’re lucky you’re not of legal age yet. So if you would kindly let me in now, I would like to continue with my work.“
Mr. Frost was no longer the only one who ran out of patience, but one of the guards made one last polite attempt to help him: „Matthew is the laird of this estate, I don’t know any laird called Milos.“ (It’s a pun as the presidents surname is Laird.)
The policeman shook his head angrily and wanted to add something else, but as he did so, he glanced at the hill on which a brand new lookout tower was to stand. It was the dominant feature of this region and he did not see it anywhere.