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I’m not from here. Book one. Cry baby. Historical fantasy
Historical fantasy
Alexey Glazyrin
© Alexey Glazyrin, 2020
ISBN 978-5-0050-7552-9 (т. 1)
ISBN 978-5-0050-7553-6
Created with Ridero smart publishing system
Prologue
The second half of the fifteenth century, according to conventional terminology, is the Middle Ages. In the opinion of a modern, enlightened and all-knowing person, the Internet is to help him, grayness is utter, and darkness is obscurant.
It’s amazing how our ancestors could live there without TVs, cool cars, computers, and the same Internet. God be with him, with the Internet, there wasn’t even a laden bicycle, a horse and a cart and all the transport, and also plows and boats on rivers and lakes, and they moved between the rivers dragging on the same horses, that is, do not spin, the horse is the main vehicle, denseness and backwardness, in a word.
And not just to live, or better to say, to survive, but at the same time they managed to build up, for example, to collect from small pieces of some misunderstandings there, in the form of Slavic principalities that did not even have their own independence, tributaries, who are uluses of a large horde, a great power.
It’s all simple now, from our far, historically verified and correct, somehow by itself everything turned out with them.
But looking thoughtfully, one has only to wonder how they did it. Chants were then minimal, in the east the Great Horde, in the west the most powerful Grand Duchy of Lithuania, in the north all sorts of Livonian and German orders, and in the middle of Moscow the specific principality, which does not particularly stand out among the same specific principalities, is a trifle potty, in the opinion that the Horde Of Lithuania.
But somehow our ancestors managed to build their own country, without the modern technology, in the form of a nuclear baton, and so the Big Horde, the Principality of Lithuania, and all sorts of orders there vanished, and Muscovy crushed them under itself and included in the composition of its power, eventually becoming a powerful country, Russia. This is a mystery of history; this could not and should not be, but it happened.
Maybe it’s not a matter of technology at all, but of something else, for example, of spiritual aspiration, to this very creation.
Something like that, somehow, sitting down on my balcony and smoking another cigarette, I was discussing, not already young, uncle, over fifty with a tail, under the impression of a recently listened audio book about fellow travelers in the Middle Ages.
Where the main character famously becomes the hero of the bright eyes of all Russia, and even more famously smashes everyone who only encroaches on Russia. And why would he not have to be an epic hero, if he was hanged upside down by AK in various variations, and even on a no less epic cart with a machine gun Maxim, here you will become captive by epic, any Basurman for three hundred miles to go round it will become, not a suicide, he is in the end then.
Yes, even the daughters of beauties will start to woo, and at the same time they should poke the dowry, if only they take it, and do not dig it every time when he is a basurman, the owner of the steppe, he jumps along this same steppe.