“He said his name is Louis Rastilav.” Otecko gave a sarcastic laugh when I said it. “Then I am good King Wenceslas. No Thomás, that may even be his legal name. Yet that is not who he is.”
“What do you mean?” “Rastilav is the name of an ancient leader of the old lands. He’s using that name to help give him validation in The eyes of the people. You must find out who he really is.”
“I will Otecko, but Joe insists we know what we’re trying to keep Rastilav from getting his hands on.” “It’s something that, at least part of which, the real Rastilav, and others held in their hands. Four jeweled symbols of power, comparatively, they have value outside of the country, but inside, they are priceless.”
“Such as?” “We don’t have time for a history lesson, but there are four native areas of the Czech Republic and Slovakia. Moravia, Bohemia, Czech Silesia, and the principality of Nitra. Each artifact’s history touches the lives of its rulers. They are powerless objects, but dictators use props to gain legitimacy, as if they were starting on the grounds of history.”
It wasn’t everything Joe wanted, but it was something. Now that I knew this much, I turned my attention to Rastilav. Who was he really, and what did he want? The internet is a wonderful thing, but not always productive. I spent hours looking for any connection to a modern day Rastilav, and found nothing.
My wife is a bit old school, she took a different tactic. She starting calling every hotel in town, looking for a Louis Rastilav. She was told that Ambassador Rastilav, of the Czech Republic, was in town for a speech at the university. We had found our guy, and discovered this was going to be a lot harder than we expected.
“Sailing Through Central Park” is one of those pieces of art that every painter gets excited about. By nature, artists are there worst critics, it’s rare when we actually like something that we’ve painted. This is one of those exceptions, of all the paintings I’ve ever painted, this is my one of favorite acrylics.
There is something about the application of paint to a canvas that is magical. As a result, were only going to offer limited editions of this print, twenty to be exact. PruittWrites Gallery is currently offering twenty 16 x 20 unframed prints for $25.00 each.
Once these twenty are gone, they and the original painting will be the only versions on the market, and currently the original isn’t for sale. If you like to purchase a print, email us @ PruittWrites@gmail.com
I took him a latte, and set down with mine, to talk about our battle plan. ” It has to work, it’s the only thing.” “Otecko isn’t comfortable about it.”
“I know, but we can’t take a chance on him getting hurt.” “Do you think it’ll work?” Joe just looked at me. I waited for a minute but he didn’t speak.
I looked behind me to see that he was actually looking at a small thin, straw haired man walking towards us. He was dressed in a black suit that made his hair, mustache, and beard, seem even grayer than they were.
“Good evening gentlemen. I hope you don’t mind me introducing myself. I am Louis Rastilav. You have a lovely little coffee shop here.”
“Thank you. Is this where you tell us you’re the mastermind behind the thugs that have been attacking our family? That you’re the leader of some group that wants whatever you think we’ve got?”
“Yes.” He paused, knowing he stunned me. “You did not expect me to be so bold? I find pleasantries waste time. I will have the … artifacts, not the necklace.”
“My subordinate was deceived, I was not. He won’t make that mistake again. In fact, he won’t make any mistakes anymore. Provide me the artifacts in a week’s time, or you won’t either.”
He got up and walked away. I wanted to follow. Joe shook his head, and pointed to the guy two tables over. He left, hand still in his coat, after Rastilav walked out.
My cousin got up. “I’m headed to the precinct. You’re going to call Otecko. It’s time to know everything about what they’re looking for, no excuses.”
“What are you going to do?” “I’m going to find out more about Louis Rastilav, and how to hit him back. Minus the pleasantries!”