The 6th of March 1215 – London, England

(found on thick parchment, by crumbling stone and the black heart of a dragon)

For Sir Billingsley –

Ye hath made quite the mistake, ye fucking idiot. Sir Thomas, the court of all thy peers shook with a mighty laughter when they heard of thine response. That is the foolishness that all thine colleagues have detected in you. Foolishness and greed, cowardice and fear, and all the other characteristics of a goddamned dickhead.

I will go alone on this journey, Thomas, for it was only thou and thy mighty sword – and only those – who could have accompanied me on this adventure. Ye and thy mighty sword were the only in the entire kingdom that would have been worth inviting, like when my dearest niece Rachael wanted those fine minstrels from beyond Cannes to perform at her Sweetest Sixteenth Birthday party, but those bloody bastards wanted a payment worth damn near my entire kingdom, my entire fucking kingdom and a goddamned horse to boot. Others could have done the job, Thomas, but none would have been nearly so fine. So, just as Rachael’s Sweetest Sixteenth Birthday occurred without any live musicianship, I will go on this journey without ye, a goddamned dickhead, and that mighty, fucking sword.

Oh, my fine knight, Sir Thomas, ye bloody asshole of assholes! Ye shall one day lament this decision, for – live or die – this quest will cement my legacy, and that of ye as well – had ye chosen to accompany me – in the great halls of history. Carved into stone would have been the names of ye and I, Sir Thomas. But now there will only be one name etched into that granite, and it will be mine. Know this, Sir Thomas, that if thy name ever appears in a tome of our kingdom’s hallowed history, it will be accompanied immediately by the phrase “cowardly asshole.”

In fact, Sir Thomas, I officially title ye thusly. You are no longer just Sir Thomas. Instead you are now “Sir Thomas, Cowardly Asshole and Duke of Losertown.” I can hear the fanfare of the trumpets already, and I hope you enjoy the benefits of your newly earned title.

Sir Thomas, and I hope ye do not mind my truncation of thy newly bestowed title, I will tell ye already how this fucking thing will end, alright? It would have ended exactly thus had thou decided to accompany, but now the glory will all be mine.

I will journey to that great big mountain and clamber into that cave. I will grab the dragon by the neck, reach to his chest and prepare to rip out his beating heart. I will – alone and without thine cowardly ass – whisper to the dragon “I’m motherfucking king of this kingdom, bitch.” Then I – alone – will slay that motherfucking dragon.

Remember, Sir Thomas, that Losertown has a population of only one, and that one is you.

And do not dare to ever label the courage of a brave king as foolish bravado ever again.

Long live me, motherfucker.

King Bob