The Mysterious Smile

The more I try to read, the more fascinating it becomes. I saw a glimpse of smile in the spring, in the winter, and in the autumn, but maybe the sun is too bright that I couldn't see anything in the summer.

My Dear Husband

And he smiles at me, gleefully, like a cute little kitten that just bidding his prey.
Sometimes he's like that. Sometimes I see a kid, so joyful, the whole of the oceans plays with him.
He commands the shark and he is gentle with the dolphins.
He is a Poseidon, he is a Triton, he is a Sebastian.

Maybe all we have is just Peterpan, and Kla, and Padi.
I never even know that I could love the former.
They're not comparable with Oasis or even Coldplay, let alone the whole ensemble of The Beatles.

But he loves them.
And so they're grown on me, too.

But then I heard Lonely Sally.
What a song!

Due To Raden Saleh

Dmitri Mikhailov was a fine gentleman in his early 35. Young but barely felt, his wealth expands from the heart of middle land in West Siberian Plain to Nanjing, Shanghai, Hongkong, Erdenet, and Irkutsk in the East, Toolonlahti, Amsterdam, Den Haag, and Braunschweig in the West, which then would he use all of them as his milestones to conquer the Lands of the South.

A prominent noble man from Russian Empire himself, as one true Heir of The Great Braunsimov dynasty, he was of course served with the best in almost every western country he stepped on that Russia has good relationship with. One of the most progressive lobby towards him came from the Netherlands' dynasty of Van Rijkmaar.

It was a warm summer morning on the bank of the River of Ob, where he could see a pair of naughty fox beneath his favourite hawthorns grown near the transparent white door of his study. Seeing those foxes together disturbing the little squirrel before they both chase and savour it, again, he knew, together-- reminded him of how he once struggled to establish such a dream family of his own. A family where... the wife and child would be so close to him. Yet so obligant.

Master, a knock on the door across the hall sounded, and Dmitri sipped his tea. He pressed the button beside his left hand, ringing the little toller above the knocked door suggesting he was ready to receive whoever coming. It was Bogdan, his 54 years old Head of Household.

There is a present for you, said Bogdan, with a chuckle. From Lord Van Rijkmaar in Netherlands. Apparently he still tries to offer you Lady Marianne Wilhelmina...

An African-European man entered in, bringing a vast rectangle wrapped in brownish paper. He opened it in front of Dmitri before then dismissed himself out of the room.

It was a portrayal of two beautiful young ladies, daughters of Lord Van Rijkmaar himself. The Dutch left a note saying that it was painted by the notable Raden Saleh, the great artist from the Land of The South where Dmitri planned to invest. Marianne Wilhelmina, was of course, the prettier. And the prettiest among the two. The Lord had repeatedly asked him to marry her. What made him still so reluctant to deal was that he knew the history of the old Lord. His family had long he knew to have strangling debt resulting from his speculative deals in the wars for the ownership around East-Indies. Thus to marry the daughter meant that he had such a morale obligation to help the old Dutch with his debts.

However, my master... doesn't she grow all this time? Bogdan said while preparing to hang the portrait in the gallery. The Braunsimovs have long been known as Russia's most notable collector.

Dmitri remained silent. Indeed that he planned to travel to Netherlands imminently, to observe his tobacco business there... but the present was as though adding him more obligation to visit Van Rijkmaar family.

The face of the more beautiful than before Marianne Wilhelmina lingered over his mind.

He could just make her his concubine, he had more than enough power to do it. He doubted that the old Dutch would mind it, but he had not too much idea of this girl Marianne. Once they met five years ago, she was this timid 13 years old little blonde girl, she barely even dared to steal a glance towards him.

He thought about his son, Ricardovich, from his legitimate betraying wife, Duscha. Those little blue eyes were each day being more and more overcasted than ever, one could hardly believe that it belonged to the young face of the Heir of the mighty Braunsimova dynasty. Ricardovich was only five but he never smiled, or laughed, as other five years old did. Dmitri knew that the child missed his parents.

But Dmitri could not look up to the little boy's face. It reminded him too much of Duscha, those bright blue eyes... of the love they once shared, of the betrayal she did, with that bastard. It reminded Dmitri too much of how sick his heart was to love Duscha so much to receive her betrayal in return.

So Dmitri made up his mind that indeed, Ricardovich would never be his successor. That boy would only grow as lame, coward man just like his mother, and, ha ha ha... Dmitri chuckled bitterly alone, it was indeed, maybe his unconscious mind driving him to create such a disadvantageous, uncomfortable circumstances that Ricardovich grew up in.

So The Readers saw the aftermath, unfortunate condition could a boy like Ricardovich endure because of the decision the mother once made.

The Father was at present prepared his journey to the Netherlands to find himself a new wife, to provide him a new son, a new Heir for what supposed to be Ricardovich's throne.

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.