Archduke James and Sir Kyle Correspond

ArchdukeJamesAndSirKyleGood day, Sir Kyle!

I trust the management of the estate is going well?

Have you had any unforeseen calamities? How are you set for Scullery Maids? If it suits you, I’ll send another cartload of budding young recruits up from the village.

Please reply at your leisure.

Most Insincerely,

Archduke James


Your Grace,

All is as expected. Spring brings new life, but also new challenges.

The maids are fine and most remain in good health. I will not require any more. Let the village recover from your last plundering first. Truly you are a terror to your people. First you knight people for odd, random reasons, then you exert your will by tearing apart families on a whim.

I am glad I became part of the cultured elite, otherwise I likely would have ended up being carted off to one of your Madams’ estates.

– K


“New life.”


Sir Kyle, you have quite by accident reminded me of a most amusing irony!

As you know, now that the snows have gone, so begins the laborious task of tilling the hard, compacted earth on my vast estates. Naturally my tenants find this to be an irksome chore, so, as is my custom, I have been making preparations for the annual fireworks display. Infantile, I know; but the bright colours and ear-splitting noise seems to please them for some reason.

In any case, just a week ago now, two footmen in my employ, “Fat One” and “Ruddy Ginger,” were assigned to prepare several test mortars and evidently when they took an unauthorized pause to smoke a pipe, one or the other carelessly tossed a match…right into the magazine! The report was most dreadful!

When I was called down to inspect the situation, why — it was near impossible to tell one footman from the other! Ha-ha! Quite the sight! Quite the sight, indeed!

As you know, two replacements can be easily sourced in the village, but I am rather annoyed about the loss of powder, as it had to be imported at some expense.

Incidentally, you are too modest, Sir Kyle: I have taken the liberty of ordering an additional cartload of maids on your behalf.

– James


Your Grace,

Those damn rubes! Do they not know how far the Orient is?

I suppose you wouldn’t supply them with ‘maps’ or ‘education’ though, so it stands to reason. Nonetheless, I hope they now rest in an unmarked grave, perhaps with a first born as company, to really get the message across.

I am confused on one aspect, though: were “Fat One” and “Ruddy Ginger” the men, or the types of fireworks?

And I suppose one cannot have too many maids. Good hands are always welcome.

I am outta here in ten minutes, so this charming exchange will have to wait ’til tomorrow, unfortunately.


– K


Sir Kyle,

Sir Kyle, you do amuse!

And yes, take your leave, by all means. Off to the tavern and then the brothel(s) again, I assume?

Fat One and Ruddy Ginger were of course buried in the Christian tradition, and their grave was indeed marked.

Unfortunately the help around here tend to expire rather often and the heaping mass of this particular grave is simply marked “Lime Pit,” but please know that the local priest was sent for to say a quick prayer for their souls.

– James


Your Grace,

Taverns and brothels are so tame, I find. Since my elevation in rank I have found my tastes have veered significantly towards…the fringe. I fear this correspondence is no place to go into detail, but suffice it to say that the “charms” found in those establishments no longer sate my desires.

It seems to me that proper burial of a ginger, no matter how influenced by class it was, is still against God’s divine wishes. The soulless do not deserve the honor of Almighty God’s embrace.

Your idea for a lime pit is intriguing. I had been making use of the river’s ferocity for corpse disposal, but the estates nearby have been complaining of pestilence.

Perhaps in the interest of better relations within the Kingdom I should borrow your practice!

– Kyle


Sir Kyle,

Do forgive the lateness of my reply, but I was busy making arrangements.

My dear wife Beth, the Archduchess, recently hinted to me that she would “very much enjoy” an intimate trip around the countryside with a “certain someone.”

As everyone knows, I am a most loving and attentive husband, and I thought it wrong to refuse her!

Therefore, for the coming eight weeks she will enjoy a comprehensive tour of all the convents and monasteries in our glorious land with her favourite handmaiden. Her name escapes me, but surely you will recollect her? The dull-witted one who spilled the entire contents of your ivory snuff box on my hound Kenneth’s head?

No matter. The two of them will travel along Cutthroats’ Road, with four—actually, two!—of my most surefooted mules.

Lord help me, but I am a sentimental man, and will miss her company! Fortunately my twelve mistresses will be taking up residence in her roomy apartments during her absence.

During that time, should you be interested in, I don’t know, barbeque or something, respond at once.

– J


Your Grace,

Ah, fair Beth! Such a shine in her eyes! At least…before the crushing opium addiction. A dusky gem now, indeed.

I must, however, admit to a fair level of concern regarding her upcoming trip. Cutthroats’ Road (formerly referred to as Stabbers’ Trail) is certainly no place for unattended women! My hatred for her handmaiden notwithstanding, I do not think I could stand idly by without offering my most experienced footman, Clovis, as a guard for the journey.

Do not let his physical appearance fool you simply because his eyes see more crossways than a normal person’s would. Despite his advanced age, the man is still more than capable of keeping up with mules. (Don’t ask.)

Very well…there have been other rumours regarding Clovis and mules that we won’t go into right now. (Other than to say that I can personally confirm that they are true.)

Nevertheless, he will provide some safety on the journey. Though not too much for Mathilda, one would hope. I, of course, remember her well. Your hound was set to sneezing most viciously that particular evening, and I was without snuff for the better part of half an hour! Your mercy towards her that day, despite my insistence otherwise, was surely a fine example of your divinity and I was suitably humbled. That said, I will be instructing Clovis that Mathilda is not the one he is protecting, and, should a dangerous situation arise, that he sacrifice her in favour of the Archduchess.

– Kyle


Sir Kyle,

Alas, it is true — the Archduchess’s dependence on the thick, ghastly blood of the Poppy plant has produced a marked change in demeanour. Her eyes are now like old flint, and bereft of their natural spark.

Oh, that reminds me! Just this morning the ship carrying my birthday present for Beth pulled into the harbour and, after carefully reviewing the manifest (350 Chests of Raw Opium; 1 New Pipe) I pressed my ringed seal into the wax. I believe she will be most pleased.

I realize I spoil her, but as she is so fond of saying, it is “her absolute favourite.”

For the life of me, I don’t know why I even bothered to order the pipe. Ever the resourceful one, Beth has recently taken to shovelling the retched substance into her mouth with a large fork.

As a matter of fact, the Master of Stool confided in me recently that in the past three months she has passed no more than “a small handful of grapeshot,” and that he is “most concerned.”

After consulting my Physicians however, my worries have abated. All thirty of them agreed that given her insatiable appetite for “Papaver Somniferum” as they called it, what the Master of Stool reported is “to be expected.”

What a welcome relief!

Your offer of Clovis is most kind! Many thanks, Sir Kyle! I must compliment your manners, as I would have been tempted to refer to him as “The Old, Retarded Mule-Fucker,” as I have heard some of my staff whisper.

Oh, and please – don’t trouble him with the stipulations you mentioned, as it would likely only confuse the poor man. Simply tell him to do his level best.

Until next time!


Archduke of Play


Please COMMENT, readers!    : )

I appreciate the “likes” too of course, but…comments?   Why, like my dearest Beth, I would eat every last one of them with a fork if it were possible!

Oh, and If you are new here, please consult the following links in order to familiarize yourself with…what in the hell just happened:


  1. “Two Kyles, Both Alike in Dignity, In Fair Cubicle Environment, Where we Lay Our Scene”
  2. “Sir Kyle”
  3. “A Conversation Between Myself and Sir Kyle”


  1. “The soulless do not deserve the honor of Almighty God’s embrace.”
    was probably in the top 10 best lines.
    (says the occasionally voluntary ginger)

    Oh- and who needs commitment, what a play of pretense.

    Sir Archduke of Play, thou art amusing.


    1. Sir Kyle has a way with words, I admit.

      Though…I still think the best lines were my own. 😉

      If you read the posts I’ve linked to, you’ll learn that this is actual correspondence with a fellow named Kyle, who works with me at the National Cemetery Management Council!


      1. …And that makes it all approximately 1,567,03 times better than I originally thought.

        Most fortunate for both of you to have found each other! 😉

        Of course, your lines was highest standard wit and utter perfection!


        1. Thanks, Milk Manning! I’m glad I found you too. 🙂

          Yeah, this correspondence will continue if people tell me they like it. Otherwise, I’ll just scrap it and come up with something else…as I do every day. 😀

          What a chore it is, arranging for respectful burials all day long. Honestly, if more people could get behind the idea of a massive lime pit, it’d be swell!

          ‘Course, I’d be out of a job.

          And I needs to get paid!

          Arranging cemetery layouts is the only thing I know how to do. 😦


          1. It should absolutely continue!

            And please do tell me how you came by this job!

            “is the only thing I know to do” hopefully only refers to your job skills, as I have no insider information on this.


          2. Naw, I kind of meant in general. *Shrug*

            I worked my way up into the NCMC’s head offices with a lot of hard work, digging grave after grave by hand. Eventually someone noticed I had a knack for it and it was like that movie with Michael J. Fox, The Secret of My Success?


            Hard to make references with a 9 year-old. :p JK


          3. So you’re supplying us with hilarious comics day by day, talking with us and making us laugh and there you stand claiming the only thing you can do is layout grave yards?

            Hm, what would you really like to do though? Dig graves?

            Aye, you really know how to hit someone’s weak spot! Before the picture you didn’t even realise I wasn’t as old as Aristotle. 😉


          4. Milk-Manning, if it bothers you, I’ll stop with the jokes about your age. 🙂

            You are far more mature than me, I can tell you that much.

            Thank you for the compliment, by the way. As I’ve said, if I can make only one person laugh, my sleepless nights are all worth it.

            127 followers as of this moment, though.

            Earlier today I had 128, but evidently a non-believer high-tailed it out of here.

            I’m fine with that.

            I take comfort in the fact that we’re all smarter than that Judas.


          5. Oh it’s alright, I can take it if it’s you. 🙂

            No no my actual issue is if people start treating me differently only after they know my age.

            And I’m not quite sure if that’s a compliment or not or something in between. Just stay immature though, it’s simply more fun.

            Slay the non-believers, hunt em down and torture em till death may relieve them of their exceptional suffering, for they will have learnt their lesson.

            I get murderous feelings in German class, especially when talking about romantic dramas.


          6. I will stay as I am, Milk-Manning.

            Murderous feeling in German class, by the way? The Germans are historically a very peaceful lot.

            Anyway, off to bed!

            Send me an email if you like (in public profile), or, if you have the time, read EVERY SINGLE ONE of my posts and comment on all of them. I think tonight’s makes 85 or 86 in as many days.

            Crazy, right?

            G’night! 😀


          7. Yes, please do.

            Mhm, the most peaceful lot. Eating pretzels and sausages dunking em in mustard.
            Mustard gas…

            Haha, if my internet allows it, I will try either. Sleep well!


  2. It’s my absolute favorite! Hahaha. There are too many awesome moments I. This post to text out (damn carpal tunnel). But I’m going to check out the other posts in the series now. I love your correspondence pieces! Xox.


  3. These are the kind of stories I wish I read in English Class. Very fun. Though I know that the f word is common in modern literature, I am not a fan unfortunately. But that is my own opinion. Thanks for the Wednesday night amusement! 🙂


    1. That’s funny, these are the kinds of stories I DID write in English class. You know, when I was supposed to be learning the material?

      I think I absorbed enough when I realized I had reached the point where I was getting decent marks on essays despite never having read the material.

      “James,” read one teacher’s comment, “Despite the fact you CLEARLY didn’t read Paradise Lost before submitting this, it is by far one of the most the most well-written pieces of horse shit I have ever seen and I am forced to give you a B minus. Well-earned.”


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