An Unsent Letter

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Dear Vincentiu,

I’m not sure if you’ll ever receive this letter – they say that Vale Sangora has been cut off from the outside world. But who knows, maybe this missive will somehow find its way to Buda, my dearest cousin.

Now, onto current matters. What a disgrace – I, Bartolomeu Mavrogheni, made to flee from my ancestral lands. Still, what could I do? Our lands have been taken over by creatures that call themselves ‘vrakhiri’. They are like those bloodthirsty monsters from the stories Aunt Flora used to tell us. I know, it’s hard to believe, but it’s the truth. They are nothing like my past adversaries – can’t really get rid of them with a sword or a sly political manoeuvre. I need time, I need allies. Won’t find them in Maragir, that’s for sure. One of those vrakhiri, Ambrus, killed most other nobles and claimed lordship over what was once mine.

So I fled. Found a cave in the forest. Not the most comfortable place to sleep, but it should allow me to keep my head down and make plans. I will reclaim my home. And I will have Ambrus’s head on a pike!

Tomorrow, during the day, I’ll go back to Maragir – in disguise of course. The peasants will not recognise me. After all, when I deemed it necessary to address them, they mostly looked at the tips of their boots!

Now, if you do receive this letter – send help. And pray to God I’ll survive long enough to see you again some day.

Yours,
Bartolomeu