Penmaster’s Vengeance

To the most despicable,
Ignaz Blunt

Dear Ignaz,
How have the years been treating you my dear treacherous friend? How is your conscience, knowing,
that you have left your trusted partner for dead and took his whole share with you? From what I have
heard, you now have a nice little mansion on the seaside, a beautiful wife, three little children and five
damned servants. Not bad for a little halfling thief that used to rob people in the slums to work his way
up like that. And all it took, was to betray a friend who made this all possible. Up to this moment, you
probably took for granted that I am dead, which is ironic, because you are dead now, and you don’t
even know it yet, and I am very much alive.
You see, I have written this letter with a very special little ink, that is about to kill you in about the
time it takes you to read this letter (if you are still such a fast reader as I remember) and I am sure you
will read this whole letter, for that is pretty much all you can do right now. Try standing up, or try to
raise your hand, very difficult isn’t it? You can’t even scream, can you? Scrolling with your eyes is
literally the only thing you can do right now. Have you felt the spasms yet, the twitches? I hope you
haven’t, because I have used a very diluted version of this poison so your suffering should be as long
as possible. Still not as long as the suffering you have caused to me, but nothing is perfect. Shame that
I am not there to see the ruckus around you, is there a terrified servant nearby trying to find a cure for
his kind master; or is he perhaps rummaging through your belongings and stealing all your silverware
while your body still hasn’t died yet. Will your children mourn for you, or will they cheer, because the
tyrant has died and inheritance is theirs to collect. Will your wife honour your marriage after your
passing, or is she bringing her secret lover to your bedroom as we speak (figuratively)? Oh and by the
way, there is an antidote for this thing just so you know, and if anyone but my partner is reading trying
to find it for him, I could give you an advice: I would find a nice little shade for him if I were you;
after all, whom has shade ever harmed.
Oh your clock is ticking my friend and I am certain that any god who is to judge you will see, that
under all that glitter you hide behind now, is a rotten, treacherous, cowardly, pathetic, backstabbing
creature that deserves to be thrown into the deepest chasm of oblivion and punished for his sins
eternally. Not even the gods of thieves and scoundrels will save you, for you have broken the thief
code and that is not excusable in their eyes. Perhaps you are so evil my friend, that demons will take
your soul; after all, there is a Demon prince of murder and betrayal isn’t there? He might make you his
right hand man for all I know. But unfortunately partner, I am running out of time (or rather, you are)
so let us say our final goodbyes.