Chapter 51

Then, I died. Wallachia, December 1476. Life has neither treated me with respect nor with kindness, and my existence has been a battlefield full of hate, fights, and loneliness. I’ve been beaten, injured, judged, cursed, misunderstood, and the only person who knew the real me, who loved me unconditionally, died about fifteen years ago. I had just been released, let’s say, from twelve years of house arrest. In the meantime, Anton would secure some of my business and travel around,...