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 be many painters reside
there and immortalize 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.
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