The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Wallachia: 1456.

The Lair of the Dragon and a Feast of Crows.

The crows and raven were everywhere, hundreds, thousands perhaps, capering about on the ground and flocking high and low in the air upon strong, hungry wings; so many that at times they turned the hot summer sun to shade. Their caws and cries were so numerous and loud it was almost impossible for the ear to discern anything else. The only thing more overpowering than their presence was the pungent, ubiquitous stench of rotting flesh and cloying blood….and the wails and moans of the unfortunate dying.

Hundreds of unfortunates, men of great means and power, vast wealth and luxury, just twenty four hours ago, now writhed in extremis’ agony, their bodies, stripped naked, hoisted five feet off the ground, facing the sun….and the ravenous birds, every last one impaled on blunt wooden poles. The poles were intentionally dull to prolong deaths surcease to the punishment and pain. After all a quick death would defeat the purpose. For the crows and ravens, this literal planted field of the dying was a repast like no other. They landed on the victims and directed by their cunning, well developed brains pecked at first where the flesh was softest and yielded easily: the eyes, the lips, the tongues, the genitals….before moving on to other body parts. Occasionally, as though like a person, moving from the taste of one food to another at a gala ball simply for varieties pleasure they would snap at and ingest some of the hundreds of thousands of huge, blackish-blue blow flies and other insects that were also there to partake in this banquet. They were as easy pickings as the human flesh for they were so bloated and lazy, engorged on the flesh and blood they ravenously consumed.

The only living things in that abattoir horror field not eating people were the two men dressed in high finery consuming their own well appointed lunches, seated at a heavy, wooden table set out for the express purpose of giving them an up close look at the proceedings that they had set into motion.

They ate meats, fish, freshly baked honey cakes and bread along with chased with assorted fruit and fine wine. They were possibly the only two people on earth who could stomach such a meal with a cold, breezy sangfroid, their appetites not spoiled in the least.

Seated on one side of the table was Vlad Tepes III, Vovoid and absolute ruler of Wallachia. Across from him reclined Radescu Stoica, his most trusted warrior and advisor.

Only one was human, Vlad, Stoica was something else entirely but this was a secret he would never reveal, not even his close friend Tepes. But both would be considered monsters by almost all that knew them. Each had earned that marking many times over. For Stoica, keeping his secret was a matter of survival, part of the great game he played at all times and he was a past master of both. No one ever learned of his true nature….until it was too late.

Both Vlad and Stoica had conspired to come up with this surreal feast with its many witness’s but for wildly disparate reasons. For Vlad it was a matter of survival. The suffering, dying men were mostly princes in his empire, boyars, whose destruction furthered the Vovoid’s iron grip on Wallachia. It was in essence a political move taken to an extreme. It was a political manifesto, a statement written not in words done with ink on paper but writ in blood, spelled out in terror with stakes through flesh.

For Stoica it was food, as much as it was for the crows and insects, but more so in that it created an exponential increase in his mental and physical prowess.

Stoica was a creature that grew ever stronger on the blood and emotions of others. He would consume both, each in a unique way and the stronger the emotions he ingested; lust, sexual pleasure, hate, agony, terror, the more powerful his mental abilities to control and corrupt others became. It was an expansion loop. And as he stuffed food into his mouth with greasy hands, pretending to gain nourishment from it, in reality he was reaching his many wispy tendrils out of his mind to absorb the pain, terror, suffering and agony from the impaled. At this moment he was overloaded in pleasure and power from his feed. Like the crows and insects he had never indulged in such a feast. His mind was swirling with that brutally intoxicating pleasure he received when feeding, but now so much stronger and it took all his massive powers of legerdemain and concentration to keep his appearance normal to Vlad, to stay upright on his seat instead of collapsing from the feelings coursing through him. It was better than a hundred orgasms.

While Radescu had subtly entered Vlad’s mind from time to time he had never exerted his influence on him. It was not necessary. Vlad had a strong will that powered a devious, brutal man who shared Stoica’s clever mind and dark humor. They were much alike. Another reason Stoica didn’t take control of the Vovoid was it would have ruined the great game he was playing. Stoica’s two main characteristics were a frighteningly quick and adept mind and an overwhelming proclivity to play out games and scenarios with his human prey. These games, great and small amused him no end. It was a form of test against the teeming masses who would surely destroy him if they only knew what he was. Sometimes he used his great powers in these games, other times, like now, he relied on his intelligence and cunning. The situation and the type of game he wanted to play dictated the path he would take.

Stoica had prodded and cajoled Vlad over many weeks to carry out the impalement of his boyars until the Vovoid agreed. He had played on Vlad’s paranoia and natural blood lust to achieve his end. This paranoia was not unfounded at it was the boyars who had overthrown Vlad’s own father years ago. Treachery ran deep in Wallachian politics and this was just the latest example. The blood lust was just a part of Vlad’s nature. In all honesty Stoica thought it a smart move for Vlad or he would not have pushed for it. Vlad was a friend and Stoica was fiercely loyal to the few friends he made over his existence. Of course Stoica’s version of friendship was different from the conventional definition for had circumstance demanded he also would rip Vlad’s throat out, drain every drop of blood from his body and not give it a moment’s afterthought.

Vlad ate with true hunger, nothing fake or show about it despite his unusual surroundings. He ripped into the goose leg held in strong hirsute hands. Stoica couldn’t help admire the man’s physical and mental power and strength. Nothing bothered him. He was a born ruler in all ways. Vlad wore his thick, high brocaded hat to compliment his heavy clothing yet not a drop of sweat marred his countenance. This was another thing they shared. Stoica never sweated, he was incapable of it. He wondered if the Vovoid had ever noticed this. He suspected he had for Vlad missed little, but never a word was said about it. In contrast to the two of them the four much more lightly dressed servers standing about them were drenched in sweat. But it was not just the heat that sucked the liquid from their pores, it was the sheer terror of the sight in front of them and being in the proximity of Vlad and Stoica. Radescu knew this to be true because he had invaded their minds too and understood what they felt in totality. This fact he found very amusing. He wondered if he gave any of them a look of reproachful dislike would they would drop to their knees in the grip of a frightened palsy?

The fifth one, hovering around, an alluring serving wench named Galenka was not sweating or bothered at all by what was going on around her. Stoica knew why this was so. He was the only one who did.

Vlad broke Stoica from his private merriment. “Such a grand display you put on last night Radescu. You put down seven in a row! I have never seen the like. I was highly pleased.” There was joy in Vlad’s voice. That was a very rare thing.

There had been a royal party in the castle the night before. Very late in the evening, everyone but Stoica drunk, the royals had engaged in arm wrestling to please the Vovoid who greatly enjoyed that particular test of strength and manhood. Stoica had not used his true physical powers for that would have made it all too easy. He desired to see what he could do with the odds even. Another game to be played.

He was good at the sport. A year earlier a teenage boy had taught him the arcane trick of bending your wrist in a certain way that gave one a huge advantage even over those even much stronger. This had pleased and amused Stoica so much that he let the boy, marked out to die as food, to live.

Radescu had taken down seven men before his unenhanced human strength finally waning, he had been pinned after a fierce battle with Raja Deskua, a ferocious soldier who weighed fifty more pounds, all of it muscle. Deskua also belonged to the Vovoid’s coterie of body guards, which was why he was there.

“I guess it will only be us two today, Stoica,” Vlad said, gesturing his goose leg around at the dying men, spraying grease on those just a few feet away. Tepes’ voice was surprisingly high pitched and clear for such a ferocious looking man. Bits of food and grease adorned his thick black mustache that guarded his Roman nose like a drawbridge.

Radescu laughed. When they had first taken their seats Vlad had announced loudly to the impaled that they would all be welcome to come over and share his repast. None of them had managed to do it so far. Tepes’ too loved to play amusing games.

Stoica glanced at the crows in the sky. “None of the invited guests accepted your generous invitation but it seems some trespassers have decided to take their pleasure.”

Vlad took a deep swallow of red wine and licked his thick lips. When he smiled he looked like a serpent. “Indeed. But they make beautiful music to help digest our meal so I give them pardon.”

The servers blanched and grew even paler. What stories will they tell their families and friends about this? wondered Stoica. What tales that will grow into legend over the many years?

“Only you would eat this meal with me of your own volition. My other nobles would sit here if I so ordered until they passed out one before the other. You are dear to me, Stoica. If not for you I would sitting here now quite alone.”

Vlad was a very intelligent man and his words often had a more trenchant meaning under the surface of what was said aloud. This was often missed by others of his inner circle but not Radescu. The meaning here was clear: Radescu was the only man Vlad could trust….so far as he could trust any man.

He looked Vlad right in the face and spoke low and level. “Then my Prince, if you are ever alone you would need to eat even more to finish what you have started.”

Vlad nodded, also understanding the meaning behind Stoica’s words. The two friends often spoken in this recondite manner for hours in front of others, having complete conversations with their real meanings known only to them while the others heard something else entirely. Such was their bond and their intelligence. It was yet another game they both loved but one with deadly repercussions if done sloppily. But Tepes and Stoica were never sloppy.

Vlad looked down and shoveled a sweet cake into his mouth. “But my friend, after today I will be eating alone.”

Stoica nodded apologetically. “If I could delay my departure I would. But this is a personal matter…..beyond my control and that I alone must attend to,” he said, daring to reveal not a thing more. The one thing he would never reveal to Vlad was his true nature or why he had to leave. That could prove deadly.

When Tepes spoke there was steel in his voice. “Anything I can offer to affect this…..matter?” He grinned slyly. “I am a man with certain resources, no? It would be good if you stayed. I think better than if you left.” The Prince’s pale blue eyes were locked on Stoica. Radescu did not turn away or flinch. He knew when dealing with Vlad steel had to meet steel. “No. Nothing. I must make this journey. It is a burden I have to bear. I apologize but there is no other course of action. If there was any other recourse I would take it. ” he replied, finality in his voice.

Vlad’s eyes narrowed and he drained his cup of wine and wiped his mouth with the heavy sleeve of his garment. A servant, a man in his twenties, a local villager no doubt, was there filling it again almost before the cup hit the table. He was very scared. No one told the Impaler no. It just wasn’t done if you wanted to keep things….healthy. There was a tension suddenly sprouting up like spring buds. The problem was you just didn’t know where Vlad’s anger would lead him. Someone may displease him yet a different man entirely may pay the price for it. The Vovoid was very capricious and his whims and temper blew in unpredictable directions like hot summer squalls. The servant hazarded a look at Stoica that said, “Please, please reconsider. Don’t make him angry!”

This amused Radescu greatly. He slowly turned and looked over the field of the dead and dying, making a show of it, then turned back to the servant and gave him a long wolf’s smile. His mirth and message was clear: luck be with you. The servant looked down and shuffled back. He seemed like he was about to break out in a mad dash away from this field of the dying and the two madmen who had planted it.

Vlad smiled at Stoica, so genially, and when he spoke his voice was light, offhanded. “So this matter which cannot be delayed lies in the west?” he asked with the curious innocence of a friend.

Stoica had seen that smile before. It was the mask hiding the viper and the question was hardly innocent but fraught with peril and danger. Not much with Tepes was innocent. Radescu knew much about Vlad that would be a boon to his enemies. He knew the strength of his regiments, which were hardened soldiers and also the callow novices. He knew the defenses of the land and the Vovoid’s future battle plans and intentions. This was information that was worth a fortune to those arrayed against Vlad. The direction Stoica was heading was of great interest to Vlad because to the west was nothing and east was….the Ottoman Empire. This was a moment pregnant with danger.

Stoica glanced at the retinue of the Vovoid’s bodyguards not forty feet away bristling with armor, all deadly in its practice. The leader was Raja Deskua, the powerful young man who had defeated Stoica the other night. Deskua had been giving Radescu smirking glances while he pranced and strutted to and fro during the entire meal and neither Stoica nor Tepes had failed to notice.

Suddenly the air around the meal had more than just the smell of food and the stench of the dead and dying. The whole thing felt like a trap to Stoica, ripe with betrayal. But then almost everything did to him and he told himself it was a good thing. It was that moment when you felt relaxed and safe that you made your last mistake.

Stoica could possibly defeat them all. His physical strength and mental powers of mesmerism were beyond formidable. At night even this would be no contest, but here in the daylight his abilities were greatly compromised making this a dangerous confrontation.

Yet Stoica did not feel one drop of fear run through his blood. Instead he felt a paradoxical combination of ice cold calm and exhilarating excitement. He could feel his heart slow to crawl and his senses come alive, taking in every bit of minutia of the tableau around him. It was all part of the particular game he decided to engage in when he had attached himself to Vlad. The danger was what made it worth the while. Stoica did not fault Tepes for harboring suspicions, even about him; only a fool would completely trust anyone with the stakes being played for and Vlad was no one’s fool as the hundreds moaning about him at this moment would easily attest.

Stoica’s quick mind had already decided on a plan if things broke bad and Tepes gave his bodyguards the wrong signal. He would leap the table from his sitting position, something he was very capable of, even in his sun weakened condition and quickly get Vlad in a choke hold, knife at this throat. At that point it would be a simple matter of waiting for the sun to set and his full powers to restore and then the tables would turn on them in a most dramatic way.

Unless of course the body guards didn’t care if Tepes died. Perhaps some of them thought it would improve their situation if the great tyrant died this day. Wallachian politics were very treacherous and often ended at the point of someone’s knife. A knife held in the hand of someone the dying man thought he could trust. If this happened then the equation would change yet again. All in good fun as far as Stoica was concerned. Just a new and interesting layer added to the game he was playing. He was fearless.

Stoica smiled back at the monster sitting across from him, his look and voice just as amiable as Vlads had been. “Far to the west my Prince, with the sun rising at my back always.”

They locked eyes, total silence for ten seconds, then twenty, then thirty. For those around them it seemed time had stopped. It would all be decided now and if it went wrong who knew how much blood would flow and from whom? Finally Vlad nodded, seeing something that satisfied him. He reached out and put his long, strong fingers, larded with gold and silver rings over Stoica’s hand and held it firm. His grip was like a vice.

“You need say no more. Unlike women it is men who must carry the true burdens of this world. I know this mission must be of great import to you.”

“And we are the burden our women must carry on their backs,” Stoica said, ironic humor in his voice.

Vlad chuckled and nodded in agreement.

“I will miss you Stoica, when do you think you may return to Wallachia?”

Stoica almost laughed at his answer. Yes, after three hundred years of sleep my liege. “It will be a long time my Prince before I can return to these lands.”

“But you will return?”

“You have my word, Prince.” And he would too. Long after Vlad was dust and mud. But it was no lie. Stoica did not lie to his friends. He didn’t have very many. He didn’t want many. He was a solitary creature and found most humans beneath him.

“It is settled then.” Vlad glanced at Stoica’s half empty goblet and then at the servant. He leapt to fill it.

Vlad raised his goblet. “To a safe journey my friend and your eventual return.” He glanced at a lovely black haired serving wench with the wild eyes standing riveted, waiting for any instruction. “And I hope you experience many fine sights along the way.”

“To many fine sights along the way, my Prince,” They toasted and chuckled low, the resonance of both mingling together as only men of power who could take whatever they wished could sound like.

Stoica grinned at the voluptuous wench, Galenka. She gave him a barely perceptible nod and tightest of sly smiles. She had caught his eye long ago and he had drunk of her blood often as he also invaded her mind. The once mild, pleasant peasant girl inside had been replaced by his own brand of dark, evil corruption. She was the only other person here besides Stoica and Vlad who was not bothered in the least by the dead and dying all around them. Indeed he could sense her amusement and joy at their suffering. His sense of smell was so acute that even through the overpowering stench of blood and decay he caught a strong whiff of her pussy running hot, dripping. Being this close to him, to his handy work was turning her on. Her friends and family didn’t know it yet but she was someone totally different now. She truly was his creation far more than she had ever been her parents.

Stoica would miss her and her new found savagery and carnal desires. But he knew soon, very soon, on his way west he would find another “nice sight” and claim it as his own. It’s how it always worked. The world was full of ripe comely young women all there to be fed on and changed to his desires.

Stoica did travel west atop a beautiful strong grey mare. He started out in the morning and made good headway. He packed light, not needing food. He had supped enough on young maidens and the mental energies of the field of the impaled to be fully sated. When the time came to feed again he would have no problem finding a victim. He never did.

As dusk approached he was far from any town, traveling a small path that cut through field and wood. Off to his left ten other men rode parallel to him about five hundred yards off. He had noticed them long ago. These were men the Vovoid had sent and Stoica knew immediately there were three reasons Tepes had sent them: One was to make sure he did go west, the second was to provide protection for him if attacked by brigands or some boyar’s men and the third was Raja Deskua.

Raja was the front rider, the leader of the escort. Despite their distance Stoica could make him out as though only a few scant yards away. His sight and hearing was every bit as developed as his sense of smell. Not only could he make Raja out but he could hear every word that came from his mouth as he regaled the party with first one of his exploits then the next. If one didn’t know better one would think Raja to be a latter day Hercules or Jason to hear of his amazing never ending fount of exploits.

Radescu shook his head with admiration at his friend and the clever, layered way Vlad’s mind worked as well as his ingenious sense of humor. Tepes was giving him a parting gift if he wished to have it and he knew he would surely honor the ingenious offer. How could he refuse?

He bedded down for the night, not starting a fire. He had no more need for heat than he did conventional food. The escort party bedded down as well, cooking meat, drinking wine, laughing, talking, telling stories. Stoica enjoyed the sight and sound of it. He imagined that mankind had been carrying out this ritual for as long as they had been on earth. The huddling together for safety against the unseen night, the sharing of themselves, the communal bonding There was something sacred about it.

But neither their numbers, nor comforting fire and boastful merry chatter nor sharp weapons could protect them from a creature such as Stoica. Nothing on earth could.

Stoica moved like a vapor through the wood, silent and unseen, at the height of his terrible powers. When he came near he let his mind reach for each of the men, unseen tendrils that slowly invaded each man’s consciousness. Slowly he drowsed them and combined with the wine they had consumed, bringing on a deep, profound sleep.

When he could hear the syncopated beating of their hearts and breaths, when their minds registered no thoughts he knew he could approach. He was not interested in any of them except Raja.

With the speed and stealth of a wolf he was there, leering over the man, his eyes keen with malignacy and reflecting the camp fire with a hellish glow, in a flash he was down on all fours on top of him.

Stoica placed his hand over Raja’s mouth and put both of his legs over his arms. Raja’s eyes opened immediately and his eyes widened in alarm when he saw who it was. He tried to throw Stoica off but the man felt like a boulder on top of him. Raja had never felt such strength, it seemed inhuman. He never even imagined anything like this was possible.

But if Raja was amazed at what he felt, it was what he saw that turned his heart to ice in his chest. Stoica did not seem real. His lips were pulled back in an animal snarl too far to seem possible. Radescu’s eyes glowed and danced with the fire……and something else, some flame within him. The predators delight in those eyes was wild and wicked. And his breath! It reeked of…..he tried to place it….then he did. It smelled like the air he had been forced to breathe in at Vlad’s meal! It smelled of death and suffering and agony, of blood and decay. It smelled of all the horrors he imagined and the nightmares he had suffered as a small child when alone in the dark.

Stoica broke into a terrible grin. So wide…..so wide…impossibly wide. “Do you know why you are here, Raja?” he asked in a raspy, snake’s voice.

Raja shook his head wildly even as he could feel himself piss his pants.

Radescu laughed, low and lethal. “The great Vovoid sent you to me…..as a gift!”

Like a magician’s trick a thin, long blade with an ivory and gold handle ornately carved with a dragon appeared in Stoica’s hand where there had been none just a moment ago. “This blade was another gift our prince gave me. Fitting that the two of you should meet, no?”

Raja felt bile rising in throat. His heart was pounding like a dog’s pant after a long hunt. This couldn’t be happening. He had to be dreaming, just sleeping by the fire, having a nightmare.

“It wasn’t the fact that you beat me that made the prince send you here to meet your end. It was the fact that you preened and pranced like a stallion on parade for it. You see, Vlad is my friend we are bonded in ways someone like you could never understand. His mind works on levels you could never hope to gain purchase with.”

Stoica pressed the knife against Raja’s throat. “The prince sent you to me as a gift, but also a jest. He knew I would find it amusing. Now I will send him my message back.”

Raja tried with all his might, which was considerable, to get out from under this insane mad vision atop of him but he could not budge Stoica an inch.

“But before I send you off to your Christ I will show you what even Vlad did not know. Look closely and see the true Vovoid of all your kind!”

Two long, hideously curved fangs distended from Stocia’s mouth. Thin, watery saliva ran down them like water following an aqueduct dripping onto Raja’s mortified face. And at that moment he realized there was something far worse in the real world than his childhood imaginings had ever delivered upon him in his bed at the dead of night.

“And I have yet another message to your master. If you see your Christ tell him I have been waiting for his return. Tell the lamb I will do to him what I am going to do to you. Tell him I am here now and not afraid and to come for me.” He growled as he spoke, the effect dripping with challenge. “For if the dead travel fast you can impart my words to his holy ears this very night!”

Raja tried to scream, scream so loud it would have shaken the earth, but Stoica’s iron hand kept it all inside of him. Stoica could feel the insuperable terror in the man and pulled it into himself, feeding on it, savoring it all. He could feel his strength grow and he had not even partaken of blood yet.

He ran a finger down Raja’s face in a compassionate, soft way. “Do not fear so, friend Raja, for we are simply taking a communion of sorts, my own unique kind, as brothers. Remember your studies. ‘Take it and eat it, for this is my body. Each of you drink from it, for this is my blood!’” He laughed low and wild with a touch of crazy delight on top.

Quick as an adder he was at Raja’s neck, tearing at it, gouging hunks of flesh out and bathing his head in fresh blood. He opened his mouth, partaking of the red spray greedily. He drank and drank until there was nothing left to ingest. Stoica had not lied. It was a communion of sorts, Raja giving so Stoica could continue eternal life.

When Stoica’s head finally rose from the swirling, intoxicating bliss his feeding always imparted on him he went to work with the knife. That was fun too.

The great Vovoid was called from his study down to the stables by his captain of the guard. When he arrived there stood Majorca Hyunais, Raja’s second in command among the men Vlad had sent to escort Stoica on the first part of his journey. Raja had picked the men who accompanied him. On the floor lay Raja covered with a rough brown cloth.

“Raja?” asked Tepes without preamble.

“Yes my Prince,” replied Majorca looking down at his feet.

“Stoica’s handiwork?”

Hyunais nodded.

Vlad moved closer to the body. “Uncover him. I wish to see.”

“I beg you Prince, do not look upon him!”

Vlad wheeled on him, sneering. “You think death, any kind of death could frighten me? Death is my brother.”

Majorca looked down again, when he spoke it was to his boots in a supplicating voice. “Your courage is a thing of legend my great Prince. I would never doubt it. But the man Stoica used the body to mock you. I don’t wish you to see the insult. Let me bear that burden.”

Tepes pointed at the body. “Remove that cloth or it will be covering you.” he said in a low seething voice.

“Yes my Prince.” Hyunais removed the cloth. Raja’s body lie there, his head severed from his neck.

Tepes looked at the body for while, rubbing his chin, then, “How exactly did you find him?”

“His body was naked from the waist up his shirt torn open. His head was…..impaled on a stick taken from our fire.”

Vlad smiled and raised an eyebrow at this information. “Then why does he wear his shirt now?”

Hyunais hesitated a beat before he replied. “There is writing on his chest…..an insult to you.”

Vlad stepped forward and opened the shirt. Carved in Raja’s chest were the words: Eat often and eat well my Prince. My thoughts are with you.

“How is it that Raja lies dead yet you and others live?” No one had told Tepes that Raja was the only casualty but he immediately knew Stoica had chosen to accept his gift. He had no interest in the other men.

When he spoke Hyunais’ voice was laced with humiliation. “We were all sleeping. Somehow we heard nothing. He must have knocked Raja cold before slaughtering him.”

Vlad keep looking at those words, carved in Stoica’s elegant hand, never turning away.

“We searched for him yet he had disappeared in the wood,” said Majorca, trying to sound brave now.

Tepes nodded. How fortunate for you.

Hyunais pushed on, not wanting to disappoint his ruler. He wanted nothing more than to avenge him. “Allow me to gather men from the cavalry. We can still run the gutless coward to ground and avenge his insult to you.”

Tepes glanced at Hyunais his eyes narrowing. Slowly, Tepes started to laugh, a low rumble at first then spilling out of him in full throated delight. He turned back to Raja.

“This is no insult to me. He honors me in this and showed he appreciated my…..gesture.”

Majorca shrugged helplessly, totally lost in Vlad’s reaction. “I don’t understand…he killed the man you sent and defaced his body with those…….”

The Vovoid turned to him, cutting him off, his voice slicing the air like the crack of a whip. “It is of no concern. The matter it is between Stoica and I.” A small sneer grew on Vald’s lip almost hidden by his thick mustache. “You don’t understand because you were born to take orders, not to think.” Return to me soon, Radescu Stoica.

“As you wish, my Prince.”

He eyed Hyunais speculatively, giving him his full attention, now forgetting Raja. “Tell me, soldier, what is your name?”

The man stood tall, at attention. “Majorca Hyunais, my prince.”

Tepes grinned at him. “I shall not forget your name or your service, Hyunais.”

“Thank you my prince. I only wish to serve you. You are the savior of Wallachia and the leader of Christ’s armies against the Turks,” Majorca said proudly. The great Vovoid has noticed me! He knows my name now! All because Raja picked me for that detail. Where could this lead for me? This can change my life!

Vlad’s voice had mellowed now. Even the look about his face had changed. The fierceness had receded, replaced by a kindly mien. “Deserved rewards come to all men, Hyunais. It is something I live by. That will always be the truth for all my subjects.”

Hyunais almost quivered with excitement. He could not wait to tell his young bride to be, the beautiful young Moresca Sellova, about this moment, what it could mean to both of them. She had a fire and ambition in her and he knew she would be as excited about this turn of events as he was.

And true to his word, Vlad did remember his name. For the next morning Majorca Hyunais was told to report to Vlad’s captain of the guard. He bounded to the meeting, his heart racing with anticipation. Would he be made a member of Vlad’s personal guard and all that it would entail?

But his assignment, ordered by Tepes proved to be elsewhere. By afternoon, under the blazing hot sun, his cries and moans mingled with the others as his naked, freshly impaled body began to attract the relentless ravenous crows. Three days later members of Tepes’ personal guard went to the young girl Moresca Sellova’s house on his orders and asked her if she was Hyunais’ bride. She and her parents swore this was not the case. They said he had pursued her relentlessly but she had assiduously rebuffed him, had no interest at all in Hyunais. That was enough to satisfy Vlad’s guard. She had answered correctly. Vlad needed to know if she and her family carried a torch for Hyunais. A torch could turn into a fire and it was best snuffed out while still a torch. She was indeed exceptionally pretty; all Hyunais had bragged to his fellow soldiers that she was. When Vlad was informed of this he arranged a job for her in his castle.

Ultimately Hyunais had been correct in his evaluation of his lover. His erstwhile, gorgeous young bride to be did have fire and ambition in her and it did not take long for Moresca to forget her dead groom.