"Lev Kassil. The black book and Schwambrania (англ.)" - читать интересную книгу автора

to serve as a battle-field. It was marked "War" on the map.
We were soon to see the same word in large block letters in the
newspapers.
We imagined that all real battles took place in a special hard-packed,
cleanly-swept square area like a parade ground. The Earth never curved here,
for the ground was level and smooth.
"The war place is paved like a sidewalk," I said knowingly to my
brother.
"Is there a Volga in a war?" he wanted to know. He thought that the
Volga meant any river.
To both sides of the "War" part on the map were the places for the
prisoners of war. The three areas were clearly marked "prizon".
All wars in Schwambrania began with the postman ringing the front
doorbell of the Emperor's palace. He would say:
"There's a special delivery for you, Your Majesty. Sign here."
"I wonder who it's from?" the Emperor would say, licking the tip of his
pencil.
Oska was the postman. I was the Emperor.
"I think I know that handwriting," the postman would reply. "It looks
like it's from Balvonia. From their king."
"Any letters from Caldonia?" the Emperor would ask.
"They're still writing," the postman would answer, mimicking to
perfection the reply of our postman, Neboga, for that was what he would say
whenever we asked if there were any letters for us.
"Lend me a hairpin, Queen!" the Emperor would shout and would then slit
open the envelope with a hairpin. A letter might read:

"Dear Mr. King of Schwambrania,
"How are you? We are fine, thank God. Yesterday we had a bad earthquake
and three volcanoes erupted. Then there was a terrible fire in the palace
and a terrible flood. Last week we had a war against Caldonia. But we licked
them and captured all of them. Because the Balvonians are all very brave
heroes. And all the Schwambranians are fools, idiots, dunderheads and
vandals. And we want to fight you. God willing, we present you with a
manifesto in the newspapers. Come on out and fight a War. We'll lick you all
and capture you, too. If you don't fight a War, you're all scaredy-cats and
sissies. And we despise you. You're all a bunch of idiots.
"Regards to your missus the Queen and to the young man who's the heir.
"Wherewith is the print of mine own boot.
"The King of Balvonia"

Upon reading such a letter, the Emperor would become very angry. He
would take his sword down from the wall and summon his knife-grinders. He
would then send the Balvoniancad a telegram with a "paid reply". The message
would read:

"I MARCH ON YOU."


According to my History of Russia textbook, either Prince Yaroslav or