Greetings to you, whomever reads this letter, if it can be called such a thing.
I am not accustomed to having to give actual introductions so I will be brief. I am Lord Tyrion Lannister, Master of Coin, a title I still find rolls of the tongue in a manner ill suited to me.
While I would indeed like to spend my time discussing this marvellous little device, I must admit I have quite a number of other questions on my mind. You will forgive my confusion but I have never been too fond of being stolen away from my bed without my permission. I will forgive it in few cases, and the majority of those would involve a lovely young woman wrapping her legs around my head to tumble me from my bed to the floors below. That, I can accept. That I can endure. But this?
Where is this place? Is this the doing of my dear Father? Or my dear sister? Was I not promised to wed? Whomever holds me here, I ask you to step forward. I ask you to release me at once, and in exchange, you shall keep your head, your lands and any titles you may have. So, what say you?