El Torres di Melancolia Durcia (54mm)

Leaves fell all around as autumn gently extended its influence, adding a solemn undertone to the news that everyone feared: war had been declared. The imbroglios and intrigues of spring, follow by plots, assassination attempts, and other provocations, had degraded the relations between the two people beyond any hope of reconciliation.

The proud Baron El Torres di Melancolia Durcia had ceased all negotiations and the men and the horses in both camps were mobilized. That morning, the Baron had sought to inspire his generals. In his youth, he had been a brilliant strategist and a natural born leader. But his glory days lay more than twenty years in the past, along with his skill at arms, and as for his physique, well it left much to be desired!

The portly baron with his flabby cheeks trembling, a great aficionado of orgiastic feasts and deflowering young girls, had let himself go. He was cramped into his hastily enlarged armor, bellowing his hatred of the enemy, and proclaiming his thirst for a complete and total victory which he saw within his grasp.

The generals had answered his call, but a enduring malaise tempered the bellicose Baron's incitements. On this fresh autumn morning the proud Baron El Torres di Melancolia Durcia had already lost, lost without ever having begun his war.