Antonina Agnessa
Braunsimova suddenly awaken in the middle of the night on November 1876. She
barely could believe that she had been no longer dreaming... as the dream
preceeding took her somewhat so much real.It was a snowy night outside the
grand bedroom of hers, where the servants put in bunches of flowers in the
summer, mostly tulips.
She forced her fading
memory of the recent dream of hers... what was it? The impression was so strong
she felt affected that she passed it already.
Yes now that she
remembered... she became such a princess in the land of nowhere... where she
dressed in a silvery gown. She was surrounded by silvery, white fog. She felt
cold. Suddenly came a dark-haired woman so beautiful she could diminish all the
cold just by her presence. Lady Antonina knelt before her as the beautiful
shall recite to her a very important message...
You see that figure? the
dark-haired lady pointed towards a direction, somewhere, Lady Antonina knew it
was due south. Lady Antonina automatically stood to her feet and ran towards
the direction.
Eventually there shaped
a tall, slender figure with dark hair. A man. Lady Antonina had no idea of who
he was.
Kill him! said a voice
appeared in her head. It was, Lady Antonina knew, the same voice she heard from
the dark haired woman... she should kill the man because then she would be
granted a present for her lifetime... she should kill the man otherwise the man
shall rob her happiness away...
Out of the blue it was,
Lady Antonina acquired herself a silvery knife. And silently, without further
hesitation... she stabbed the man on his back she knew would rip his heart out.
The dark-haired lady
appeared after the dead man's body... and suddenly they were surrounded by
light. The dark haired lady handed her a present... a beautiful, tender-looking
baby... as she finally realized it was her most precious treasure she got on
Earth, her son... Dmitri Mikhailov with his shining blue sky pair of eye.
***
It was such a clement
afternoon down the town of Tkvarcelli, near the Black Sea. The gentleman shone
in his walk, excited that he was once more given the chance to breath the air
of the Land where the guardian of the Holy Land's Kingdom resides.
The Land of the Ottoman,
as already represented by the fragrance of his name, did not prohibit the
practice of slavery. The gentleman, as he came from the noble blood himself in
his country, knew as where the men of his leagues took their leisure time in
this particular land, in this particular city.
The place was called The
Roses' Lair. Outside, it looked like other buildings surrounding it, only...
that not just anybody could enter it.
He showed his coat of
arm on his jacket to the guardian outside it.
The next steps were a
poem of amour. The female procurer bowed at him, then asked him to wait in the
lounge.
Then she asked him to
enter a chamber with twelve most beautiful feminines she had.
The gentleman casted his
eyes with utter carefulness upon each of the females' postures. His desire
tonight should be satisfied with the best...
His sight stopped upon
an auburn haired, wistful-eyed maiden with such a touch of Persian gesture and
Scachrezade charm shining out of her body.
His moment stopped.
He met his long-lost
lover from the other time.
He approached the
maiden. Embraced her to his chest, and whispered in her ear,
Persian? Abacus...
The maiden quietly
responded, Ja...
Ordinary men and women
on Earth, if they have the knowledge already, would translate it as a
conversation in Prussian...
The gentleman chose her.
The procurer bowed once
more to him, admiring his choice once more. A man from the Braunsimovas surely
has the greatest taste of virgins.
Silently he escort her
to the room of his choice in Roses' Lair.
***
Vito Fortissimo had
become the night's consecutive champion of chess games held between the
gentlemen in Roses' Lair. But he was yet to sip his first red wine.
His gaze fell upon a
semi-dark-and-brownish-haired man emerged from the Chambers of The Virgins. He
happened to be the last man in the room he had not challenged in the game. The
man seated himself with the auburn-haired mistress of his tonight on his lap,
ordering a glass of honey-flavored-tea.
The Fortissimo gentleman
suggested one of the waitress to order him a glass of iced red wine with a note
to challenge him for a chess. The gentleman with his mistress glanced at his
new acquaintance that night, Signore Fortissimo. He smiled and thought, that
during these uncertain hours when he would be summoned to his post in no time,
one or two games of chess would be maximizing his spare times after women. His
side, Russia, was not going to win easily anyway... he could defend and win
back his country on chess table. He gently asked his Persian lady to get him a
cup of coffee before then gave him company to Fortissimo's table.
It was such a peaceful
night during the era of the War of Russo-Turkish. Italian, Russian, and even
the Turks soldires gathered together before tomorrow heaven knows when Ezrael
shall greet them. Playing chess, slept with the could-be same women in turn,
drunk by wines both red and white.
In The House of Roses'
Lair, the average sides existed were the neutral zones. Tomorrow they might end
up killing each other in the battle field.
Signore Fortissimo had
his defeat for three consecutive chess games that night. The defeater, Viktor
Grigorovitz from the Land of Russia as he knew him, was drunk by eight mugs of
mead while bragging about his vision on Diophantine equation. Checkmate,
checkmate, checkmate...
Fortissimo had his
goosebumps for the first time in his chess life. He was barely drunk.
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