COMPLETE! The Wasteland. A woman screams in the night. Spotlights flash on a pile of dust in the desolate patch of land that lay just beyond the tall crosses that picket the boundary of Encampment R-34. A group of curious students leave their bunkho...
Beyond all belief, I remain in the dress of a Turk from the night assault, having integrated myself with the Ottoman troops. Silence is a necessity, for my tongue sounds of the enemy and will be surely removed if I am discovered. Their minds are too firm on chasing down Vlad and entering the capital city of Wallachia to notice my presence.
From a looking glass, the Sultan's guard discover'd the ruin awaiting us on the road toward the capital. I witness'd for myself Mehmet II nearly fainting from a single gaze of the glass. I presumed that, in order to warrant such reactions from a hardened man as the Sultan, Vlad had left his prized land in the worst state thus far. I came to learn, as all of humanity will learn for centuries to come, that it was not the land that the Dracula defiled, but the very Turks he had been keeping prisoner.
Be certain of yourself before reading this, my humble King. There are horrors within, of which I shall give a particular account. It is very desirous that any means of precaution be taken for the security of your spirit, and perhaps your soul. For until this day, I, as yourself, believed Vlad to be a fellow man. I live to tell the sincerest truth to you now. We are all mistaken. He is the devil, incarnate. The embodiment of all that is black and wicked.
The Muslim Bulgarians and I march'd onward toward the capital city of Tirgoviste, seeing vapors in the sky that spoke of heat disseminating in the cold wind. When we pass'd the ridge, the sight of the devastation became clear to us all. I knew not what I was seeing, but heard the terrified shrieks of those in line before me. It was then, as many of them retreated, that I could understand my own vision. Tens of thousands of Turks lined the road that curved up the hill to the capital city, each of them impaled in a gruesome fashion on a dull pike. Some lengthwise and across. Some in a standing position. A few others, with their legs drawn toward the sky. For the greatest number of the imprisoned, it was a slow and excruciating death. The bodies were frozen in agony, mouths open in a final scream, legs and arms twist'd like tree branches, eyes wide and red with blood. As we progress'd up the winding road, silent and in awe of his savagery, the whole of us never blinked. Even walking beside the enemy, I was aware that we were witnessing evils that had yet to be accomplish'd on earth, until that moment.
This was the most unhasten'd besieging of a capitol in all of time. When we reached the gates, they were left open and unguarded. At the center of the square, below the impaled corpse of the redressed Bey, Hamza Pasha, sat an untarnish'd cup of solid gold. The very same cup that remain'd in the square daily, unprotect'd. The cup Vlad had warn'd his people never to steal. Until this moment, Mehmet remain'd mute. Though upon seeing his compatriot at the center of the tallest pike, to convey his high ranking, above the priceless cup that was waiting for anyone to risk taking for themselves, the Sultan lost his spirit and order'd a retreat of the deserted city.
My king, I found it hard to reconcile what I was meant to do next. With much doubt and lacking in reason, I hid from the departing Turks and broke the seal on the letter you asked me to hold for the Black Army. I see now, after reading it, that you mean to imprison the Dracula, and I have never felt more assured of my charge. I will rejoin his efforts and convince Vlad to return with me to Hungary. I confess, I am most glad to see that this lion be caged. The Prince is a man that the Pope, his Holiness, hath esteemed. Yet, I see no presence of God here. It is our duty to restrain him from the demons he obeys.
Writ at Tirgoviste on the twentieth of June, Fourteen Hundred and Sixty-Two
Ezzelin von Klatka
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