Book: Blood and Iron

- A year passes without another power hungry thug had not declared himself king. As far as I know, once, fifty years ago, there were sixteen emperors at the same time!
- Hmm. Fifteen more than you need.
- Sixteen, according to some.

Ah, the suffering of abandoned lovers! This sense of loss, the anger, the shame! I think you will never recover from the blow. What poet wrote that there is no pain more painful than the pain of a broken heart? Sentimental nonsense. He had to visit the Royal prisons.

- What are you reading? asked Jezal.
- "The fall of the master Maker" in three volumes. Is considered a classic historical work. Tedious nonsense, and nothing more. - She snorted. - The crowd is wise Magi, stern knights with big swords and lovely ladies with large Breasts. Magic, violence and love in equal shares. Shit.
She brushed the book off the table, and she flopped on the carpet, rustling the pages.
But you could find yourself something else to do.
- Here is how? And what would you suggest?
- Well, my cousins embroider...
- Go fuck yourself!

Her cheeks were flushed more than usual. Jezal saw standing next to Ardi decanter cork is removed, and wine was only half.
- Do you drink?
- A little bit. - She narrowed her eyes at the half-empty glass at his elbow. - I just miss you.
- For now, and not ten in the morning!
- What, ten to miss banned?

You need to have strong bones to meet death as he met her. To get up and go to meet her, not complaining. To ask for it. And not for himself - for others, for those whom he didn't even know. Triguba gritted his teeth and paused, looking at the ground. They were all silent. - That's all I want to say. Go back to the dirt, forlì. We have become poorer, and the earth is richer with you.

Everyone finds an excuse, and the more despicable he becomes, the more touching is his story.

- He was a good man. Better than me.
- History is completely littered with dead bodies of good people.