Diophantine Above The Mountain of Caucassus (3)

It was not the picture of any site near Abkhazia, where the town they temporary stayed settled. It probably was the picture of... well, Tiflis is more likely, thought Signore Fortissimo, frowning. Since Tkvarcelli, no matter how famous Roses' Lair had been, was merely a site less important than a city found in the fifth century and had always been the central of trade. There must have been many painters residing there and immortalized their impression within their works.

Vito Fortissimo, in his late thirty first age, had served , although as mercenary, two of the wars in Europe. The first one, of which he remembered as mere luck and far from admirable he thought, was the Battle of Wissembourg. He managed to escape with quite a severe wound and survived. What carved more impression and maybe, a little bit of pride about his achievement so far within his still rare experience of war to call him such a senior of war, was his second battle in the Russo-Turkish War; the Battle of Svistov. He was one of the more than 24000 soldiers who won the fight against the Ottomans, and vaguely he could still remember Ivanovich Dragomirov himself poked him on his shoulders while beaming.

Up until present he wondered as what reason kept him alive so far. Yet what kept him alive to work as he did now. As a matter of fact, here he was now, got acquaintanced by chance to whom was probable to be one of his company leader of the next siege. He was welcomed quite so warmly to the Colonel's resting cottage for at least a week here in Tkvarcelli, where it was just the three of them stayed there: he, Fortissimo, the Colonel himself, and his mistress, Alaleh, the sea-blue-eyed Persian who learned to become an abacist.

Of all the things there might exist, it was mathematics which brought the three of them in common. Alaleh loved to learn abacus, Fortissimo had been quite fluent in it, and in fact, he was the descendant of his family whom paternally learned abacus and how to become an abacist. But among them, it seemed that the Colonel had the most profound experience in the science. Not only he knew how to count quickly, he seemed to come from the root of algebraic branch... or worst, the number theory.

Vito glanced for a moment to the dark night outside where there was only a vast land of Caucassian forest and a surrounding of little village. This was his second night here, since his first acquaintance to the Colonel the night before, a night full of wines and mead. Alaleh was busy cooking dinner in the kitchen, he could smell roasted deer from the hickory-stove. Grigorovitz entered the room where Vito was. He had warned Vito not to speak a single thing about the current war in front of the Persian maiden; in case she was another Ottoman spy.

But what made you think it is safe for you as a Colonel to take a trip around here all by yourself? Vito asked him.

This town is already sieged by Lorei's army, Grigorovitz answered casually, biting an apple. I was of course, told to better off stay at the camp with the rest of the troops, but there is no way I would skip the leisure of Roses' Lair, he chuckled. So I told the general to take a trip here, just the two of us would know it. It could hardly predicted by the enemy that such a Colonel of the alert Russia strolls all along by himself. We are in such a truce after all...

Vito knew that the Colonel was actually gambling. But he just shrugged, at least he could catch the sense partially... the nearest Ottoman's post around Abkhazia nowadays does indeed could be reached on three days tank journey. Given that the town is already surrounded by Lorei Mikhailov's army, any escape attempts by those Turks soldiers back then in Roses' Lair would only grant themselves a direct death penalty.

Which also meant that seven days would not be their true length of time of staying here. He had better not unpacked his bag, for they could depart any moment now.

You seem to know General Mikhailov quite well,Colonel, said Vito, seated himself.

Grigorovitz smiled. You see this jacket of mine? He pointed at the coat of arm he showed the Guards of Roses' Lair the other night. This coat of arm could be your passport anywhere in Russia and its diplomatic-related countries. Lorei as well, comes from an equal family just like I do.

What about if someone fake it? asked Vito.

Grigorovitz laughed. You don't underestimate the network of Roses' Lair... they know more how to handle relation with royal families of Europe.

Alaleh emerged from the kitchen. She talked to Grigorovitz in German. Grigorovitz followed her to the dining table, gesturing Vito to also come with him. The dining table had been set gracefully, and Vito felt like it was very much Transylvanianish. Indeed---they were Transylvanian dinner! Vito felt, once more, really grateful for the fate he had tonight... he had no idea when else the time during the upcoming battles would he be served something so delicious yet stuffing. He had never been to any Transylvanian restaurant before, but he recognized some of the dish... the Persian mistress turned out to be really good in cooking. He could see shimmering goulash, besides what he was sure to be grilled potatoes and mititeis he smelled on the hickory stove. For the carbs one can choose oily-glazed polenta or herbs-scented pilaf, and she didn't even forget to make Romanian-style chocolate truffles for dessert.

Grigorovitz turned out to be not really care about manner. He simply said, just tuck in, Vito, and grabbed him everything he could reach to fulfill his plate,then start eating. Vito seated himself and took a truffle while Alaleh busily pouring in warm milk to each of their glasses. He was surprised to know that the truffle, indeed, tasted good.

You bought it, didn't you? he casually asked Alaleh in German. Alaleh flinched and scolded. First, she was surprised to learn that not only this paid private was quite intelligent in abacus, he also spoke German as well. She felt a little intimidated now to see someone who barely had enough money to be her roommate turned to have so much skills and abilities. Yet she could not understand one single English he spoke to Master Grigorovitz! She felt a little defeated...And now, he thought she bought the delicious truffles instead of making it herself!

Surprise me that you can not do it yet you are think I can not do it either, she replied furiously in stuttered English. Grigorovitz smiled and Vito felt amused. He started to like this girl as a new toy he could tease every time he had the time now.

Ah, great attempt, Miss! he replied naughtily. But I think what you did was merely Englishening your German, now! Grigorovitz and he laughed heartily.

Milady, don't sweat it, Grigorovitz stroked Alaleh's cheek and pulled her to her seat beside him. You have cooked a great deal and this gentleman here is no other than falling for you.

I heard the other night Sir, that you were talking about Diophantine's equation, Vito changed the subject to the thing made him so obsessed to know the Colonel.

Ah, that old story, the Colonel chuckled, chewing his potato.

When exactly did you learn Math formally, Sir? Vito asked eagerly.

Grigorovitz laughed. It is nice to hear such a condescension, Young Man. If you happen to not get it right, I shall foretell you right now... that Russians, I mean the noble blooded as I am, tend to learn mathematics in advance by our private tutors. I had been taught since I was six under the great Ostrogradsky himself.

He happened to have one of the copy of Galois' manuscripts, he continued while savouring his mititei. The one lost within the hand of Cauchy himself.

What about it? asked Vito.

Lyapunov once told me he felt something about the manuscript regarding the preceeding Diophantine equation, said Grigorovitz. When I asked him what, he simply copy it for me and I saw something so peculiar... Galois said something so essential yet so beautiful, about the theory of representation.

Vito was getting more excited, his ears he felt were shaping such a conic. He never heard about it before... this he felt, will lead him to the esoteric part as he wished someday he would be listening to such stories.

Well, I have not fully understood it, but I have such an intuition that Fermat and Galois somehow have a connection to Diophantine equation, Grigorovitz continued. It has been so long since I touched my pen and paper to do some ideas linking.

The rest of the dinner ran far too quickly for Vito Fortissimo.

He followed the footsteps of the Colonel walked away to the darkness of the forest outside, guarded by five military-dressed young men, right after the dine.

Suddenly he felt the time to go was eagerly due.

Diophantine Above The Mountain of Caucassus (2)

Suddenly the scenes of the Battle of Wissembourg flashed back before his eyes. He saw his 24-years old himself, exhausted, in a supposed to be pretty sunny morning, at about 11.00. The small fir and pine forest outside the hamlet of Wissemborough looked menacing and however sweet and fragrant they might seemed, the odour of Death himself fulfilled the air.

The garrison in which he joined in was preceeded by the Crown Prince force of Prussia to reach Wissembourg. His company was destroyed, he himself was injured near his upper abdomen. The rest of his garrison fellows ran for each of their lives,out of town, or trapped and killed within the commune... luckily he was able to drag the body of one of his mercenary fellow, Giorgio Accardo.

Luck, it was merely luck was he able to escape the little parish. Being mercenaries, he and Giorgio were always dispatched in the frontest line of the garrison. Especially Giorgio, whose adrenaline rushed so vibrantly he led the company. The first bullet of the enemy transpired his chest in the silent circumstances of the village's gate, marking the first victim of the French and should have alarmed the other members of the companies... but Vito Fortissimo reacted the swiftest among his fellows. He quickly grabbed the falling body of Giorgio's and hid themselves behind the nearest wall before he squatted there. He was very fortunate to find a big, quite thick iron lid he used it as a shield.

What followed was the bombardment of more bullets and cannonballs in their surroundings. Vito managed to shoot two Prussian soldiers but he got shot he bled his abdomen. Being hurt, he quickly found another wall for a shield and found himself facing the edge of the pine and fir forest. He silently escaped as fast as he could... he could not really remembered how, but he managed it. He arrived there at the inner side of the forest, somehow he brought along Giorgio.

Giorgio did not make it. Vito Fortissimo could still smell the soil of that forest, where eventually he fell down, Giorgio's body beside him.

***

Vito Fortissimo was awaken from his thought. Then he scolded, for the third time tonight, as his Russian fellow grinned while offering him his hand. For God sake, now that he was able to forecast the last eleven steps of his checkmate!

I'm done, Vito sighed. His Russian opponent laughed, swigging his last big drop of his eighth mug of mead. Then kissed his Persian mistress.

Vito Fortissimo went asilenced. To see the kiss, suddenly he lost in the land of mortal Goddeses... where the creatures living were auburn-haired or blue-eyed, playing their lethal harps to whoever heard it, that those who remain complacent might need not know whether they play the dice between life and death.

Signore Fortissimo observed the Russian. He said his name was Viktor Grigorovitz... such a masculine name, yet his skin was such as he was freshly born, so smooth yet fair. Yes he knew that he must be someone with high rank in his batalyon, given his choice of mistress. He emerged from the Chamber of The Virgins, the highest paid room and roomates one could get in Roses' Lair. And look at those pair of sapphire blue-eyed miss he got...not to mention he was the first one for her.

Such a fine dawn, Grigorovitz said. His blue sky eyes gazed sharply towards the depth darkness of the forest outside. To had spent at least his one last month here, Vito fairly memorized it so well all the cusps of the panoramic laid there. It was quite a generous sight of the whole Caucassus mountains... the flat green hills of local grass interspersing the vast, mighty white snowy mountains where sometimes one could observe the horde of deers on their journey.

Master Grigorovich... you said we will discuss my abacus lesson, the Persian mistress curled her head on Grigorovitz' shoulders.

Vito flinched. He bent his back towards Grigorovitz. You... talk abacus? he asked.

Grigorovitz laughed.

The Persian mistress turned her head towards Vito, as though she had just realized that he was there all along.

You seem to be really surprise, my friend, Grigorovitz smiled thinly. It shall not be as special as it might seem, actually.

My great-great grandfather moved to America as an abacist! Vito said outloud, almost shrilling. Why--- who are you actually?

Viktor Grigorovitz got to his feet while igniting his pipe from his pocket. Interesting, he said. Not many young men I have seen appreciate such a name came from hundreds of years history. Allow me, my friend, to introduce myself, he offered his hand welcomed by Vito directly, as it shall seem I to be your next commandant in battle. Colonel Viktor Grigorovitz Braunsimov...

Vito Fortissimo did not really recognize the name, but now he could see the face of his commander for the next siege in Kars. He became so excited. Pleased to see you, Colonel, he said.

Diophantine Above The Mountain of Caucassus

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.