elnysa | video; un: eproghuefgdzptrrw

[ Byerly, a handsome fellow with a hard-to-place accent that just sounds a bit different, is lounging on a couch. The angle isn't entirely flattering, since he's filming himself while laying supine, and so there's a view sort of halfway up his nostrils that is a little bit too much information. A bottle of brandy dangles from one hand, and his voice is slurring just a bit. This fellow seems quite drunk. ]

Bonsoir, you grunting peasants and cultureless rubes, and happy Winterfair to all. For those of you who are cultureless monsters, Winterfair is a time when gifts are exchanged and joy is had. My gift to you is that I won't call any of you peasants again for the duration of this broadcast. Winterfair was also the last Emperor's birthday, or thereabouts, which meant everyone had to give him their taxes for the year, but mine's not till later, so you don't need to pay me till then. I'll let you know when taxes are due. Start saving up now.

So what should you all give me instead? I suppose to begin with you could entertain me. What do you say, my cream puffs - a little game of two truths and a lie? You know the rules, since the rules are literally the name of the game. Go on, play with me, do. I'll start. I'm currently rightful Emperor of Barrayar, my great grandfather Pierre once showed up to a Winterfair ball soaked in blood to send a message, I'm terrible in bed.

Anyone who opts out of the game, I'm going to assume they're simply too in love with me to speak with me, so don't play at your own risk.

[ He winks, and then lifts the brandy to his mouth - and it apparently goes down at a bad angle, because he sits up, coughing and spluttering and getting alcohol down his front before he shuts off the feed. ]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Cute. But, also wrong. My father was a famous spirit medium, and I used an automatic until I was twenty.

[ all things that were completely on the record. ]

An automatic...?

Right, an automatic handgun, as opposed to revolvers. I suppose by your time, you use laser weapons, or something like that.

[ like the laser in the Goldfinger movie, though he knows someone who wouldn't even appreciate him thinking that reference. ]

Ah - of course.

[ He shakes his head, because: duh. ]

And yes, we do indeed. For the most part, at least. Soldiers are armed with stunners, nerve disruptors, and plasma arcs - though a gentleman like me did learn to use the pistol. Just in case an opportunity to duel came up.

So did you ever fight in a duel? How about Russian roulette?

[ he can play a mean game of Russian Roulette, if you ever want to see a cool party trick. ]

[ Hm? ]

Russian roulette, I fear, isn't known to me. As for a duel - [ A sigh. ] Alas, no. I never had any honor to challenge. I was a second, though, a few times.

Oh, it's nothing all that exciting. Just putting one shot into a revolver, spinning it around, and then pulling the trigger.

[ how much more Russian can you get? ]

You never tried a duel just for fun?

[ Byerly's lips purse with a bit of puzzlement in response to Ocelot's description. But with regards to the later bit - ]

I didn't, no. I'm a bit of a coward, you see.

That so? I've met plenty of cowards before. You don't strike me as one.

[ at least, he's pretty sure he's no Huey Emmerich. ]

Really? I'm flattered. [ He stretches luxuriously. ] Perhaps it's simply by Barrayaran standards that I'm cowardly, then - it's rather difficult, growing up on a planet full of mad berserkers. Hm...Well, then perhaps the problem is simply that I'm lazy. Fighting a duel, defending your honor - it all takes so much work. You know that duels are traditionally fought at sunrise? Sunrise. You have to set an alarm.

I'd almost say that it makes you pragmatic.

[ look, he has minimal standards, ok. he doesn't sleep with cowards. ]

See, that was why I always liked western movies. The duels always happened at high noon, with no set rules. Only raw skill, and something to prove.

Ah, then you'd quite detest our duels. We have entire manuals dedicated to the proper forms and rules. - Though when you come down to it, for us, it really is just skill and having something to prove. That something typically being the size of one's cock, or just how firmly one's head is lodged up one's ass.

[ In spite of himself, there is a bit of scorn dripping from his words. Less because Byerly is a sensible sort of person, more because he's fond of hating things his family loves. And the Vorrutyers love their duels. ]

[ he really can't help but laugh at that. ]

Disdain for the storied customs of the nobility. There just might be a little bit of communist in you yet.

Eurgh. [ He purses his lips in distaste. ] Aren't Communists supposed to dress in burlap and red scarves and the like? I need to live with a bit more sartorial purpose. Besides, I like some noble customs. Like having people bow and scrape to me - that one's quite nice.

Is there something wrong with red scarfs?

[ he's wearing a very nice red scarf, ok? ]

Oh, that still happens sometimes. When I was in the Red Army, I was always getting saluted and getting catered to. You just have to work for it.

[ and have a famous mother and father but shhhhh. ]

Red simply isn't my color. Makes me look like a vampire.

[ He always looks a bit like a vampire. ]

But heavens, I'm not ever going to get anywhere on the basis of military rank. Believe me, that was the path I was supposed to have taken, and it's most certainly for the better that it's not where I ended up. Discipline is not my forte.

It might be a good intimidation tactic. Lots of people are terrified of vampires.

[ even the best of them. ]

You don't always need discipline to succeed in the military. Sometimes, you need cunning, intimidation, and maybe a little bit of luck?

[ Ocelot? he's always just landed on his feet. ]

[ With a sigh - ]

Well, cunning, I do have, at least to a certain extent. The other two are quite lacking, though. Besides, in the Barrayaran military, you absolutely need discipline - and absurd musculature, and you need to be far less chatty than I am. Mostly that lot is supposed to grunt and point and loom and snarl about honor. I'm rather too lean and too effete for them.

[ absolutely fascinating. ]

You wouldn't say that you're lucky?

[ He gives a little sigh. ]

Well, I suppose I am here. Saved from death. That's a sort of luck, eh?

From the sounds of it, wasn't every day you managed to survive an indication of luck?

[ Space Russia. regular Russia. they're all horribly miserable places, he's sure. ]

Ah, if only it could be so melodramatic - but no, I had a good time of it, actually. As a member of the High Vor, most doors were held open for me.

Then you were lucky to be born into nobility, now weren't you?

[ checkmate, Byerly. ]

Oh, I don't know. It was really quite difficult sometimes. I mean, I had to look around myself and reflect on how everyone else had worked so hard to get where they were, and it made me feel guilty. Such emotional turmoil that caused me!

[ He is probably not being sincere. ]

[ and that, of course, leads us back to the original question. ]

...So, you're sure you're not a communist?

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