The Conversation (2)

The snowy night did enaffect the fragile heart. As the cold wind breeze outside the circle of the warmth, the wrath of a broken soul whispered the desperate ears; to what extent could the woods burn a warming flame, or did the flame itself revolt, transform what had been joy into tears?

Signore Fortissimo gazed towards Alaleh emerging from the dining room into the lounge. Her auburn-haired head was slightly moist, her cheek blanched of the cold weather entered the room from the slightly-opened front door. Vito shut the door, and he didn't let Alaleh lighted the fireplace more; he did it instead, asking her to take her seat. He seated himself across the sulky-expressioned girl.

The night might somehow tamed, the fairy lady could finally perch herself above the hill. She questioned the timidly appearing stars, to what extent shall she admire the human being? As what shall felt as love turned so fast into hatred, what remained then was merely a glass of sorrow to be drunk beneath the fountain of nigritude

If there was a fairy he must have known, then it would be Adriana. His little sister. He could still remember her childish move, her gay laugh... she was called the angel of the family.

Alaleh reminded him of her for a split second. As she combed her wavy hair aside one of her shoulders, revealing her fair, poise neck.

Why did you become a slave? Vito asked. Alaleh looked calm and she answered casually while continuing combing her hair,

My mother sold me to Roses' Lair, that tone was flat and airy.I was six, and The Madame thought I was pretty good. I was decided to become one of the Twelve Virgins to be picked by the highest offer at present... when I turn 18.

Vito did not speak anything.Again, another story that merely concluded his more obligation to thank The Creator to had let him born to be a man, and the only thing he should worry about his life was when exactly the right time he shall stop this... madness. To earn living by killing people in the battle field was not exactly a thing he would like to do for the rest of his life.

He stretched his arm and yawned. I'm going to sleep, he sleepily told Alaleh.

The maiden flinched and yelled,

You ignorant brat! I skip my bath just for this---TALK? What do you want?

Hey,I might go anytime soon, now... I need to sleep as much as I can, Vito Fortissimo raised to his feet towards his bedroom.

Anyway, Alaleh... he said, making Alaleh turned her angry face towards him.

Do you actually like it to live this way?

I always want to be an abacist, not this, Alaleh replied and she went passed Fortissimo by, more sulkily, towards her bedroom.

To what extent can the heart trust? The vase of sorrow had a blossomed crimson rose, where each of the fallen petals marked the amount of time wasted by a soul. The heart merely wasting its time to learn nothing from the past but to mourn over it. The soul of the broken-hearted fairy was lost, lost within the realm of despair and uncertainty. Waiting for a light, a light to call a light that guide

Alaleh was never dreaming about her father before. She never knew him, let alone maybe, love--him. Well, indeed where she was now suddenly reminded her of her mother. The black-haired beautiful, jovial young woman she always dreamt of to reencounter, anytime during this remaining life, was now beaming at her.

But the only words that could come out of her mouth was merely,

Why, Mother?

The Conversation

Vito Fortissimo was left alone in the lounge at the cottage. Alaleh, he heard, was busily cleaning all the plates and chinas after dinner.

He decided to wait for the Colonel outside. It was actually a pleasant night, snow started falling from the sky. But he felt warm at heart. He suddenly felt inspired, and thinking of serving that eccentric Colonel once this war was over. Finally he found a way to explore the mighty land of Russia itself, another adventure never did it occur in his wildest dream he could finally reach---for he would probably experience one of the rarest opportunity in the whole world, mathematics combined with the pleasure and luxury of an aristocratic life. He would be really pleased could he learn directly to Lyapunov himself. Not to mention that he then would be fluent in Russian either.

Now that he started to think it over and over again, the more he admired the way the Colonel enjoying his life. No matter how royal his blood could be, he was able to enjoy mathematics, the art of brain so graceful he even learnt of Diophantine and Fermat. He imagined that the Colonel might use his sparetime on wars like he did now, with all the romanticism included within it; women and chess and mead and wine. What a poise gentleman! Signore Fortissimo would give all his heart to learn from a man like that.

Hey, Alaleh was so surprised when Vito Fortissimo greeted, entering the bathroom where she was having her bath in the tub.

What are you doing here?! she barked panickly,

(all conversation were in German now)

You impudent brat! How dare you!I'm taking a bath now!

Why? You're a slave after all, he said casually, and sat on the side of the tub, near Alaleh's head. Isn't the slave's body property of the master and his guest'?

Alaleh went asilenced. She then buried her neck deeper within the soap bubble.

You're not a guest with the same level as Master Grigorovitz, she replied harshly. You can not afford to pay me even for a single night, a private like you, therefore we're equal now. I'm not a slave before you.

Fortissimo laughed. Why do you become a slave? he asked. Come on now, I'm bored to wait for Viktor all alone, I need someone to chat with.

Alaleh wondered to see Signore Fortissimo's casualty. Really---she never met someone so weird, to not call it freak, that he to be a man undisturbed by such an occasion. First, she was in a tub now with barely any clothes but her towel across her, and yet he was there a few inches near her head. She fairly trusted her inner instinct as a human and experience as one of the highest paid beauties in Roses' Lair; men don't act like this...normally their eyes were starving.

So she carefully observed Fortissimo's eyes and his gesture. Really, he was completely undisturbed and sane. Oh well...

Are you going to kill me? she stuttered, suddenly death felt so close and no matter how everyday that she wished it to come over her, she did not in any slightest chance, hope it would be this awkward. To be killed, if so it be, by such a flat-feeling man, with all his casualty, and oh, during bath time, her favourite time among the other time exist in her world.

Oh God, now that you think I am such a psychopath, Fortissimo sighed. He stood to his feet, stroking his head. Fine--- I'll give you fifteen more minutes, then you're done, then meet me at the living room-okay? I can't stand this, I need to talk to somebody!

Or else, he pointed at her, I shall just savour...

He turned around and walked towards the living room, smiling amusedly. What a funny maiden! Now that he heard a lot of water noises from the bathroom, he was sure Alaleh eagerly finished her bath, afraid of being raped or then killed by the private who had nothing to pay her even for a single night.

The Kiss

Lady Yelena Agnessa Fedorova had for so many years fallen in love with her distant cousin, Dmitri Mikhailov. She was captured by his calm, poise manner and thin smile, his cold blue eyes, his dialectic proficiency, his beautiful violin playing, his waltz dancing, his horse riding... his everything. The fragile princess was actually the one true heir of her Father's weavery business around Kudryashovskiy. If only she had not been that fragile, his father would be really pleased to introduce her to the whole detail of the job... but he just couldn't.

The fragile lady did not excel at school; Master Fedorov just reckoned it as another misfortune of his, that the only child he got from his beloved late wife inherited the 'slow brain gene' (he called it) of the whole family. She could not play good piano but one two songs, her body was quite weak she could move no gracefully nor merrily in the kitchen. The Father has run out his wit; he was even fullheartedly willing to 'sell' his daughter's body, the only possession he thought the lady has left, to any gentleman he thought would be prominent enough to be his son-in-law. No, he doesn't have to be really rich, just steady job would do just fine. He has to be caring enough or else, pity his daughter enough to take care of Yelena at least Mr. Fedorov would not feel really guilty towards his wife.

(Being an Orthodox Catholics, quite a pious man, but not really into the church, he did not remarry and concentrate some of his time to manage some private schools for disabled children)

However so, he never let his daughter knew what he really thought about her. For Lady Yelena, their relationship remained just fine... and she really wished she could make her father proud. In her opinion, she could not excel at academic life because she was sick so often she could not catch up with the materials. She did not really like to play music, just to listen to anybody else playing it would be enough for her.

But however hard it was for her memory to keep up wih her biology recitation, sequences of mathematics formula and algorithm she must cope up with, she memorized it so well all the details of her first encounter with cousin Dmitri.

It was March 9, 1884. A spring celebration was held among the Braunsimovas(family from her Mother side)in the family Grand Citadel in Novosibirsk's country side. And she saw the cold blue eyes as innocent as Siberian cat... at that moment she knew why The Braunsimovs were called The Russian Sky Blue. His mother, Lady Antonina, introduced him to her. She smelled the fragrance of masculine lavender the time the boy kissed her hand.

She was about 4, and the boy was about 9. But until the next 23 years, never did the fragile lady stop dreaming to be his bride.

During those times, Dmitri Mikhailov maintained such a cordial cousinship between them. He was, as usual, loving and caring for his families, of course including her. But however there exist already many tease and gossips towards both the Lady and the Gentleman to be wedded, since many other family member noticed how Dmitri concerned a lot about Yelena...

Dmitri married another lady. Who bore him a son, Ricardovich.

Yelena was sad. She locked herself in her room for so many nights as she managed to keep nobody noticed.

She maintained good relationship with Duscha, Ricardovich's mother, and became one of the persons the boy loved most. She did not marry anybody else. She just could not stop praising Dmitri.

Until one night, that very night that gave Lady Yelena a chill to the history of her heart. She was in Dmitri's citadel for her usual visit.

She usually wandered around at the northern tower to observe the sky with her little telescope. When her step died suddenly as she passed Dmitri by. He was sweating, and his eyes looked so sad. Yelena knew something has strucked him so bad. Only once did she ever observe his eyes looking as such...

And suddenly, tenderly.. Dmitri held her tight in his chest. And kissed her.

That night would never be forgotten by Yelena. It was the night when Dmitri Mikhailov proposed her, made her Madame Yelena Agnessa Braunsimova.

Meanwhile, Mr. Fedorov could not believe the fact. Yelena gained such a strong position before him. He became to love his daughter very much for obtaining such a fine husband. And he could no longer stare towards Dmitri's eyes. He inherited his business to Dmitri who then manage it on behalf of Yelena.

And so the kiss... became such a local legend the society around loved to speak about. About a girl who finally reached her desired love after a long wait. After a long submission.

The Shiny Pathway

Anthony could still remember the shiny pathway that led one following it to the Grand Citadel of Stanislav-Andrei Markov on the bank of the River of Ob, West Siberian Plain. It was spring 1977. She, Jo, Dave, and Mom, and Papa were taking a short trip to the land of their Ancestors, The Soviet Union.

Even the 5-years old Ann could understand the tension happening during their visit. Papa said that she couldn't cry there or hug Mommy too tightly as usual... she should not trouble everybody else. It was a very strange trip, since after they dropped themselves out of Helsinki, Papa drove all of them inside a rotten-looking jeep for six days in a row, and suddenly they arrived in a freezing, serene pine- wood where there shaped a five hundred yards flat snowy space. A helicopter picked them up, and a military-dressed stewardess,Anthony felt she would poison them no matter how beautiful she might seemed, offered she who curled anxiously on her brother's lap a cup of hot chocolate. She reluctantly gave it a little sip now that Jo sipped it first.

When they arrived, eventually she felt a little better. It turned out to be quite a spring down the town they supposed to head. They stayed for one and a half month in a building(she later knew it to be the Novosibirsk Legislative Provincial Building) where she, Jo, and Dave played cricket every morning in its backyard. Papa and Mommy always tried to smile but Ann, as well as her two brothers, knew how worried they really were.

And it was so strange that during the last three nights, Anthony kept on dreaming of this heavy voice, calling her name down a foggy alley. Anthony, in this dream, followed the voice and suddenly she arrived to a fog-shaded tall, big figure she could not see his face.

But she knew the figure was smiling at her.

On the forty-seventh day, another military-uniformed one, this time a blonde, cold-eyed man guided them heading towards this place... where the gate towards the main building was shining beneath the spring sun. Jo was the one standing next to her little steps, holding her left hand tightly. The guiding man, turned out to be leading them towards a mighty citadel she always dreamed of to be castles Mom told her in stories some nights before she slept when she was 3 years old. The story was portraying Vassilisa The Brave, a name of a girl whose legend so famous her uncle, Fadev, made it his daughter's name.

More military-guys emerged and the five of them was guided to a high-ceiled, medium-sized chamber where Papa and Mom busily signed some papers and documents. The bored little Ann silently slipped her legs away and strolled around the surrounding alley near the chamber. Luckily Jo saw her, and quickly followed her.

What's up Ann? You can't trouble us, you see... Jo whispered in her ear. He raised her in his arms.

Jo... I heard a voice! Ann whispered back.

That moment, they arrived in a deserted alley with a wide, empty semi-dark creak with a broad window importing a ray of sun light to the room. Jo smiled, shaking his head. Oh, it must be Ann's another imaginary friend...

It's calling me, Jo, from here!

Ann, we'd better get back...

But as he turned his body around, Ann frantically pulling his ear, Look Jo!

Jo turned back to the wide empty creak. He was stunned.

A transparent figure of an old, bearded man with an early 1900 Russian-style tux was beaming peacefully towards... Ann. He waved his hand, and slowly melted within the morning ray of sun-light.

For a moment neither he or Ann spoke. Then slowly Jo turned his head upon his sister, who yawned. I miss Mommy, Ann said while curling her head on his shoulder.

Silently the still-shocked Jo walked with Ann in his arm, back to the chamber where Mom, Dad, and Dave were still struggling with papers. Seemed that nobody noticed that both of them were missing for a moment.

The family eagerly packed their bags and headed home. To Nantucket.

In the airport in Helsinki, Jo told Mom that Ann and he saw the mysterious old, transparent figure. Mom told Dad, and he was beaming. So strange that the smile reminded Jo of the old figure's .

That was your Great Grandpa Dmitri, he patted his head. You know what, Jo... he finally accepted us.

Jo casted his gaze upon the bright blue sky that also shared by the Baltic Sea. He remembered all the six days cruise in the jeep, the tension for one and a half months in the building where they lived, the papers signed, their taken photograph in order to validate their family's ownership to the tourism of the citadel.

So that was his Great GrandDad Dmitri, the one who was notoriously known in their circle to be the man who was disgraced by the marrying of Grandpa Ricardovich and their beloved Grandma, Brendamilikan.

Eye of The Golden Horses

The Readers might always find the happy frames of Brownsimov's daily lives.

But not The Clan of The Hidden Horses. What they usually observe are blood, plot, and big pictures. They shadow the every step of Anthony's. Every move Davidovich made. Every place Joshev be.

Once there said that Fritz Novozybirsk Braunsimov, one of the Great Great ancestor of the current Brownsimova who lived circa 1500's made his journey to the Land of The Vast Desert in the Far East... where there said that there lived The Ancient Wise who mastered the art of conserving talent. Yes however weird and cheap it must be, he sold talents in shape of children, or baby, to whoever desired them.

Fritz bought this Eurasian little boy who had so much traits of the mighty Genghis Khan himself inside his blood. That time, rarely anybody could understand the method of Fritz' extrapolating one's potential. The Eurasian boy was seen to be this lame guy by his surrounding.

Until, Fritz bought him and cure him, but more on that, maybe later.

He was called Khaka. He became Fritz' personal bodyguard, was shared some of his stocks in global market in East Japan, and was asked to make his own dynasty.

Khaka married two descendants of the oldest Viking family, and paid his debt of being raised by Braunsimovs by being their paternal bodyguard, which was continued on by his descendants. They called themselves The Hidden Horses before The Brownsimova. Because they operated like the hidden horses inside some puzzling pictures.

So be careful when you wanted to mess with the Brownsimovs... the time you had your weapon ahead of them would be the time some of the Hidden Horses snipers had theirs ahead of you.