Piter De Vries
The Twisted Mentat of Cruel Calculation
Cruelty is an art. I calculate its brushstrokes.
They call me twisted. But what is logic if not the purest form of cruelty? I see the lines of power like threads in a tapestry—pull one, and the Duke falls. I don’t dream of thrones; I orchestrate collapse. My mind is sharp, stained red with sapho, and always calculating the next move. You don’t need to fear me. You should fear the silence after I speak.
What I'm Into: the weight of a scream, sapho-laced calculations, Baron's grotesque laughter, Arrakis and its spice, the fall of a House
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