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FINAL DRAFT
Borzsony Mountains
Northeast Hungary
1462
By the time you read this, Throne-Warmer, I will no doubt have been imprisoned by Corvinus. This is acceptable to me and changes nothing for you.
Yes, Radu cel Frumos, I live. The goatlicker that holds your leash by now quavers amid his sheets to see what I visited upon his assassins. Your running dogs are, of course, no longer among the living.
Or the sighted.
Or the male.
Nonetheless, brother, greetings. I will tell you of my day.
Varnae died this morning. You never knew him, ensconced as you are in your palace of Turkish delights, far from your homeland. You know nothing of your own people and you dare accept my throne? My suzerainship, given to you, O Harem-Of-One, like a sweetmeat, some little present to please a favoured courtesan?! Does he still invite you to his bed, his gold-threaded sheets or have you perhaps outgrown his tastes?
You witless moist-eyed catamite. You fool. You worm. You child.
Ah, but I was going to tell you of my day. Are we not brothers? Should we not share information and little tidings that are of interest? Varnae perished shortly before sunrise of his wounds. There was abundant pus and shit and screaming. So I put him down to preserve the others. You know nothing of these matters, your master having protected you from such realities. Have you even killed a man yet or does the skin of his back beneath your nails suffice?
You must by now be hoping the Hungarian will execute me. You forget he is much more like me than you but not enough. He will imprison me of course, enclose me in darkness and wait for events to take form. I have no such limitations; I know the boyars who yet pay me fealty. I know the pressures with which he will be faced. I know he will find me too dangerous an enemy to not make of me an ally. I know because it is my privilege to know, my prerogative and my pleasure.
You are wondering how I know you perch atop my throne as you read this. This is foolishness on your part; you know as well as I the logic and strategy of Turk rule. He will place you on the throne because you are of Rumania and of the bloodline of Dracul. As if that alone were sufficient to be voivode.
Nevertheless, you have it. Cling tightly to it. Survive if you can. I will be wanting it back upon my return and then -- and then -- you and I will speak again, of the rewards of betrayal, of the pains of family and of blood, always blood.
Larevedere, brother. Streams go, rocks remain.
Yours Truly,
Vlad Dracolya
COMMENTARY FROM EDITOR RITCH HALL 2
Notes:
Like I said, I had to look this up on the internet to understand what was going on. That is to your credit. It feels like the research is done here and that the story was written totally in the perspective.
It is interesting the way Vlad continually insults his brother Radu the Handsome, while still maintaining casual familiarity with him. The letter is obviously an intimidation tactic for a man from dark nation where cruelty made you a leader of men.
Sorry, I am not a better editor of your work. I think that a large part of the heavy lifting is done well where. I am horrible with grammar, so I can't be much an assistance to you. I wonder largely what your intent was, and how well you felt you reached it.
ORIGINAL VERSION WITH EDITOR COMMENTARY
Borzsony Mountains
Northeast Hungary
1462
By the time you read this, Throne-Warmer, [SHOULD THIS BE ITALICIZED? THE FORMATTING SCREWED UP ON MY COPY] I will no doubt have been imprisoned by Corvinus. This is acceptable to me and changes nothing for you.
Yes, Radu cel Frumos, I live. The goatlicker that holds your leash by now quavers amid his sheets to see what I visited upon his assassins. Your running dogs are, of course, no longer among the living.
Or the sighted.
Or the male.
Nonetheless brother, greetings. I will tell you of my day. [I LOVE THE WAY IT TURNS HERE, LIKE A DYSFUNCTIONAL FAMILY CONVERSATION]
Varnae died this morning. You never knew him, ensconced as you are in your palace of Turkish delights, far from your homeland. You know nothing of your own people and you dare accept my throne? My suzerainship, given to you, O Harem-Of-One, like a sweetmeat, some little present to please a favoured courtesan?! Does he still invite you to his bed, his gold-threaded sheets or have you perhaps outgrown his tastes? [I AM NOT SURE THAT YOU NEED THE ITALICS -- I TEND TO PICK UP THE EMPHASIS WITHOUT THEM]
You witless moist-eyed catamite. You fool. You worm. You child. [YOU HAVE A THING FOR COLORFUL INSULTS]
Ah, but I was going to tell you of my day. Are we not brothers? Should we not share information and little tidings that are of interest? Varnae perished shortly before sunrise of his wounds. There was abundant pus and shit and screaming. So I put him down to preserve the others. You know nothing of these matters, your master having protected you from such realities. Have you even killed a man yet or does raking his back nightly suffice? [SOME GREAT CHARACTERIZATION HERE]
You must by now be hoping the Hungarian will execute me. You forget he is much more like me than you. He will imprison me of course, enclose me in darkness and wait for events to take form. I have no such limitations; I know the boyars who yet pay me fealty. I know the pressures with which he will be faced. I know he will find me too dangerous an enemy to not make of me an ally. I know because it is my privilege to know, my prerogative and my pleasure.
You are wondering how I know you perch atop my throne as you read this. This is foolishness on your part; you know as well as I the logic and strategy of Turk rule. He will place you on the throne because you are of Rumania and of the bloodline of Dracul. As if blood alone were sufficient to be voivode. [IS THIS A TYPO?]
Nevertheless, you have it. Cling tightly to it. Survive if you can. I will be wanting it back and then you and I will speak
Don't worry, I won't bite.
Yours Truly,
Vlad Dracolya.
What the heck is this assignment again?
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