The wheels keep turning
17th of januari, 1936 – Moscow, Russia
Wild rumours swirled around the capital after the sudden assasination of President Kerensky. Some claimed the Bolshevists where responsible for the murder. Their demonstrations all around the city only encouraged those rumours. Others claimed it was the nobility that was behind the murder, hoping for Czar Kiril to return from his exile. Katya Sergeyevna Pavlova knew better, as neither the political left or the right was behind the murder, even if both sought to profit from the chaos that had followed. In Petrograd the charismatic Bolshevist Nikolai Bukharin was rallying his supporters to take control of that city once again, to finish off what Lenin and Trotsky had failed to accomplish. In Moscow the forces of Marshall Denikin had failed to keep the order peacefully, giving room for Baron Wrangel to keep the order his way, meaning by baton and saber. The city was in chaos, with fires being randomly started in homes of betrayers by both sides.
Nikolai Bukharin, one of the few senior Bolsheviks to be allowed to return to politics after the Civil War. Now he's leading the Second Revolt in Petrograd.The latest thing Katya had heard was that most of the members of the Duma had been put under arrest. Chernov, Milyukin, Dimitri Romanov, all of them where now sitting in the basements of the Lubyanka, the headquarters of the feared Okhrana. It was near this horrid building that she would have a rendez-vouz with her partner for the unholy mission they had performed. She only knew the man as ‘Misha’, but as a true Okhrana-member that was just an alias. She found the rather young man leaning agaist a wall, smoking a cigarette and watching the protesters being pushed back by Wrangels forces. He greeted her with a wolfish smile, fitting to a predator like him.
“Fine day, don’t you thing Katyusha.” For some reason that boy, not even thirty himself, insisted calling her ‘little Katya’, ven if she was in her mid-thirties herself. “Your just in time for the show.”
“We shouldn’t be talking this openly Misha”.
“And miss out on all the fun, Katya?”, the boy smiled again, “Wrangel has ordered Zhukov and his cavalry to break any semblance of resistance in the capital. That man should arrive soon, he’s quite an effective commander for a former Red. Probably hopes to prove something. But anyone smashing Reds is OK by me”
Then he turned his gaze to Katya, feigning an apologetic look, “Sorry Katya, not all Reds have to die. You may live.”S
he only gave him a shrug, which was more of a reaction than he deserved. The man had been absolutely insufferable. Yet he had arranged a very comfortable sniping position for her, and had been an excellent spotter. Professionally they had gotten along well, personally she couldn’t wait for the Revolution to be completed, so she could put a bullet through his imperialist little neck. However, judging from the looks he gave her, she was much more mercifull than he would be to her. Yet this unholy alliance would have to last a little bit longer...
17th of januari, 1936 – Rome, the Italian Federation
It was a very cold day in Rome, and even the Great Saint Peter itself where no exception. Theodor Innitzer, Cardinal of Vienna and special advisor to his Holiness Pius XI, couldn’t think of a less opportune moment for the Federation council to convene, yet the Holy Father had decided otherwise. Personally Theodor considered the meetings to be a monumental waste of time, as the council hadn’t agreed to anything ever since its inception. No, it would require a war with the Commune to the west, or the Italian Socialist Republic to the south for the council to heed his Holiness words. He bitterly smiled, probably even then the tithe paid for maintaining the Federal fleet, or the question of mandatory attendance of Mass would be more important to the Cardinals, Dukes and Presidents of the Federation.
The flag of the Italian Federation gives a good indication of the convoluted nature of the state. The main constituent states are all represented (from left to right): the Papal States, the Grand Duchy of Tuscany, the Duchy of Modena, the Duchy of Parma, the Ligurian Republic, the Lombardian Republic and the Principalty of Sardinia-Piemonte. All states have accepted the Pope, Pius XI, as the symbolic head of the Federation.
Yet Cardinal Innitzer wouldn’t have been called from Vienna to Rome if he would stand for this. His informal talks with representatives of the Italian nobility had greased the wheels of state more than once. This very morning he had one of his talks with Count Constanzo Ciano, the Prime-Minister of Tuscany. The man was a greedy, obnoxious pig, but had a useful idea every now and then, even if most of them involved the elevation of Grand Duke Jozef to the Italian throne. Innitzer slowly walked towards the confessional booth in a corner of the church. The place of a meeting between him and his next visitor, yet he was stopped by a sergeant of the Swiss Guard storming towards him.
“You eminence… Its… You must…”, the man was switching between Italian and the distict Swiss German most of the guards spoke. For a member of the guard to mangle protocol so badly... He knew his Holiness health was declining, but he had hoped the Holy Father would last a bit longer. His work wasn’t done yet. What if Pacelli, of even Liénart would become the next Pope?
17th of januari, 1936 – Moscow, Russia
Wild rumours swirled around the capital after the sudden assasination of President Kerensky. Some claimed the Bolshevists where responsible for the murder. Their demonstrations all around the city only encouraged those rumours. Others claimed it was the nobility that was behind the murder, hoping for Czar Kiril to return from his exile. Katya Sergeyevna Pavlova knew better, as neither the political left or the right was behind the murder, even if both sought to profit from the chaos that had followed. In Petrograd the charismatic Bolshevist Nikolai Bukharin was rallying his supporters to take control of that city once again, to finish off what Lenin and Trotsky had failed to accomplish. In Moscow the forces of Marshall Denikin had failed to keep the order peacefully, giving room for Baron Wrangel to keep the order his way, meaning by baton and saber. The city was in chaos, with fires being randomly started in homes of betrayers by both sides.
Nikolai Bukharin, one of the few senior Bolsheviks to be allowed to return to politics after the Civil War. Now he's leading the Second Revolt in Petrograd.
“Fine day, don’t you thing Katyusha.” For some reason that boy, not even thirty himself, insisted calling her ‘little Katya’, ven if she was in her mid-thirties herself. “Your just in time for the show.”
“We shouldn’t be talking this openly Misha”.
“And miss out on all the fun, Katya?”, the boy smiled again, “Wrangel has ordered Zhukov and his cavalry to break any semblance of resistance in the capital. That man should arrive soon, he’s quite an effective commander for a former Red. Probably hopes to prove something. But anyone smashing Reds is OK by me”
Then he turned his gaze to Katya, feigning an apologetic look, “Sorry Katya, not all Reds have to die. You may live.”S
he only gave him a shrug, which was more of a reaction than he deserved. The man had been absolutely insufferable. Yet he had arranged a very comfortable sniping position for her, and had been an excellent spotter. Professionally they had gotten along well, personally she couldn’t wait for the Revolution to be completed, so she could put a bullet through his imperialist little neck. However, judging from the looks he gave her, she was much more mercifull than he would be to her. Yet this unholy alliance would have to last a little bit longer...
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17th of januari, 1936 – Rome, the Italian Federation
It was a very cold day in Rome, and even the Great Saint Peter itself where no exception. Theodor Innitzer, Cardinal of Vienna and special advisor to his Holiness Pius XI, couldn’t think of a less opportune moment for the Federation council to convene, yet the Holy Father had decided otherwise. Personally Theodor considered the meetings to be a monumental waste of time, as the council hadn’t agreed to anything ever since its inception. No, it would require a war with the Commune to the west, or the Italian Socialist Republic to the south for the council to heed his Holiness words. He bitterly smiled, probably even then the tithe paid for maintaining the Federal fleet, or the question of mandatory attendance of Mass would be more important to the Cardinals, Dukes and Presidents of the Federation.
The flag of the Italian Federation gives a good indication of the convoluted nature of the state. The main constituent states are all represented (from left to right): the Papal States, the Grand Duchy of Tuscany, the Duchy of Modena, the Duchy of Parma, the Ligurian Republic, the Lombardian Republic and the Principalty of Sardinia-Piemonte. All states have accepted the Pope, Pius XI, as the symbolic head of the Federation.
Yet Cardinal Innitzer wouldn’t have been called from Vienna to Rome if he would stand for this. His informal talks with representatives of the Italian nobility had greased the wheels of state more than once. This very morning he had one of his talks with Count Constanzo Ciano, the Prime-Minister of Tuscany. The man was a greedy, obnoxious pig, but had a useful idea every now and then, even if most of them involved the elevation of Grand Duke Jozef to the Italian throne. Innitzer slowly walked towards the confessional booth in a corner of the church. The place of a meeting between him and his next visitor, yet he was stopped by a sergeant of the Swiss Guard storming towards him.
“You eminence… Its… You must…”, the man was switching between Italian and the distict Swiss German most of the guards spoke. For a member of the guard to mangle protocol so badly... He knew his Holiness health was declining, but he had hoped the Holy Father would last a bit longer. His work wasn’t done yet. What if Pacelli, of even Liénart would become the next Pope?
