- ARCHIVE - Royal Court of Serbia

[N Katsyev]

Smederevo, Second Meeting​

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Ostrov was now more curious, and felt he actually knew less about recent events in Serbia than he had when he first arrived. To replace what he felt he once knew were questions, were assumptions, were guesses and clues, but little true knowledge. As he was brought to the assigned villa that evening, he pondered all this more. His romanian servant, Stefan, produced a bottle of kvass when they had arrived at the small and all around comfortable villa. Smiling, Ostrov took it and sat at the desk, rubbing his chin through his beard thoughtfully.

"Is there anything else I can get you my lord?"

Mikhailovitch's thoughtful eyes wandered over to Stefan and he watched the young man a moment before shaking his head barely perciptibly, "No Stefan, that will be all, thank you." The young man bowed his head and had begun to turn when Ostrov's deep voice sounded again, "Stefan..."

"Yes my lord?" answered the young boy in Romanian.

"What do you think about Her Majesty Yelena?"

"About her my lord?", the boy's dark features accented in something of a smile.

Pouring kvass into a small glass... a venetian glass, Ostrov suddenly frowned and turned his glance back on the boy, "Nevermind Stefan, goodnight."

"Goodnight my lord."

With a sigh, with thoughts he didn't want to think and questions he wanted answered but too delicate to ask all floating through his mind Ostrov began to scribble a draft to his letter back to Pskova. Despite his efforts however, Ivan did much more thinking than writing. Despite his need for concentration, he did more drinking than writing as well. With only a handful of lines scribbled out his large head soon rest upon the desk and his light snore rythmically filled the silence of the room...

The next day at court, Ivan Mikhailovitch was dressed in deep red robes more diplomatically influenced than the more sturdy travelling clothes he had been wearing the previous day. Immediately he looked to Yelena's face, but realizing the impropriety of what he was doing he blushed and bowed - this time in the Serbian court fashion which he now emulated from example the previous day. Smiling at his address from the Queen, blushing once again deeper, Ostrov answered with excitement that was maybe a bit too obvious, "Your majesty's hospitality knows no equal, of that I can assure you." Frowning a bit as his story was mentioned, Ostrov answered, "Your majesty for my story I beg your forgiveness... it was not my intention... " Dejectedly he looked aside until she asked for his attention to a story of her own, his gaze returning to hers, those pretty passionate blue eyes he couldn't help but smile again - no doubt as he did when he a young man so many years ago, "I would be honoured and pleased your majesty..."

 

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Queen Jelena can't help but smile at Ivan Mikhailovich, the way he smiled back at her. He was quite old, but had the mannerisms.. and looks, of a younger man. Interesting.. "Instead of a story," Queen Jelena began, "Perhaps you will help me with a problem that has vexed me for quite some time?" With no objections (she was the Queen, after all!), she took a quick sip of wine, and began telling the story of

The Two Villages.

"There are two villages, a hundred miles west of Smederevo. The first village, Antički, is in the mountains, populated by many strong, hardworking peasants. These peasants have made the best of their lot in life, even though they have little contact with the going-ons of the outside world. Life in Antički has gone on much the same way as it has for the past five hundred years, only occasionally disturbed by the affairs of the Kingdom. The lord of Antički, a wise, peaceful man, is only known by some of the surrounding mountain villages, but he is respected by all. The other village, Mržnja, grows fat on the Danube river trade, so rich that the entire Kingdom of Serbia has become jealous of its wealth. Mržnja, now a bustling town, is ruled by an evil man, thirsty not only for gold but also power.

One day, the lord of Mržnja decided that the gold floating down the Danube river into his hands wasn't enough. He carefully, as evil men do, considered all the places where he might take more land for himself. Up and down the river Danube, all the towns had walls and castles, and hundreds of strong men to defend them. But then, the lord of Mržnja had an idea. There are many mountains, right next to his own lands, full of minor towns and estates which with his vast armies and wealth he could very easily take. It was about that time the old, respected ruler of Antički had died, and a new man had come to power there. Taking the opportunity to claim the lands of Antički and all the other lands around it, the evil lord of Mržnja quickly conquered all the mountains in the area, and unjustly made himself lord over Antički and all the other villages.

But, my dear Ivan Mikhailovich, you might be asking yourself, 'How does this concern the Queen of Serbia?' The problem is, my cousin was the one who ruled Antički, before the lord of Mržnja attacked his lands, and drove him away to my court. Now, I am Queen of Serbia, to this I will confess, but the distance and terrain between Smederevo and Mržnja makes an attack impossible, along with the many enemies surrounding Serbia, to which I must always be vigilant. How could the Kingdom of Serbia free Antički and punish Mržnja, given the fact that I can't directly attack it?"

Queen Jelena awaited Ivan Mikhailovich's answer, her face expectant, knowing that the no doubt bright Russian would immediately understand just what she was referring to..

 

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Ten Years Ago​

Stefen Brankovic, King of Serbia, sat quietly in his jail cell. In what the vanquished peasants of Serbia were already calling the Second Battle of Kosovo, he had valiantly led the entire army of Serbia against the invading Venetians.. and had been resoundingly defeated. As the Italians stripped the loot from the battlefield, the cream of Serbian nobility once again rotting away on the plains of Kosovo, Stefen Brankovic was captured, and brought before the Venetian general. Cruelly and without regard for the rights of a King, he was swiftly sentenced to death in the morning.

"Thou art just, O Lord, and all thy judgments are just, and all thy ways mercy, and truth, and judgment."

It wasn't fair. He had just regained control of Serbia, after his father's murder. The bastard who had usurped his throne, who he had expended all his personal treasury to defeat, had died.. suicide from poison? It didn't matter. He had tried in vain to reason with Venice. To no avail. They had invaded, put his country to the torch, and now they had him. Hopeless.. it was now hopeless.

"And now, O Lord, think of me, and take not revenge of my sins, neither remember my offenses, nor those of my parents."

He didn't even have a chance to confess. All the sins he had committed in his life.. the debauchery, the orgies, the murder, all would be held against him when he died. He had begged, pleaded, for even a Catholic priest to hear his confession. But the 'judge' had spit in his face, and ordered that he be tortured before his death for daring to make that suggestion. His two daughters, Jelena and Marija, still live, thank God, hidden away in a village by one of his most trusted and loyal men. He hoped that his sins wouldn't come back to haunt them..

"For we have not obeyed thy commandments, therefore are we delivered to spoil and to captivity, and death, and are made a fable, and a reproach to all nations, amongst which thou hast scattered us."

The dawn broke through the cracks of his jail cell. He hadn't slept all night. Instead, he had been on his knees all night, praying to God that his sins would be forgiven, and that Serbia would be delivered from its invaders. Why did he even care? In an hour, he would be dead, and in Hell. There was no saving him, or saving Serbia. Hopeless...

"And now, O Lord, great are thy judgments, because we have not done according to thy precepts, and have not walked sincerely before thee."

The jarring blow from the whip scourging his back made his whole body shake. Going limp in the ropes, as flesh was torn from his body, and the blood ran out like a fountain, he whispered the prayer of Tobit. Blow after blow followed, and just as he thought he would die, burning, inhuman pain brought him back to life. In agony, as salt was poured into his wounds, he was strapped to a low, wooden table, in full view of the city. A Venetian stepped forward, with a blindfold. Too late for courtesy. He waved him off. Another man grabbed a knife, and plunged it into his stomach. As he was being disembowled, right before he slipped into death's sleep, through clenched, agonized teeth, he murmured the final words to his prayer:

"And now, O Lord, do with me according to thy will, and command my spirit to be received in peace: for it is better for me to die, than to live."

 

[N Katsyev]

Smederevo, at Court​

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As he listened to her story, on the one hand Ostrov wished to watched the Queen's vibrant blue eyes. On the other hand he felt ashamed for doing so and he would peer around, to gaze at the regalia of the Serbian court, the great tapestries on the walls. This was a different land, but strangely familiar already. Catching Yelena's eyes once more, he realized that her story was over and she was waiting for an answer.

Gathering himself Mikhailovitch rubbed his thick hands and gave something of a sheepish smile, "Your highness, it is questions like those that make me thankful I am not a ruler as yourself or the Czarina. Indeed... ", he added thoughtfully, almost morosely, "I am not even the best administrator of my own lands, this is the reason why an uzed Prince acts as a diplomat, I am reliant upon the salary to provide for myself..." Sighing, his eyes rose back to the Queen's, "My apologies your highness but I haven't an answer to your question and whatever answer I would come up with, well, it would be useless to someone as obviously clever as yourself."

 

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Inwardly crestfallen, but outwardly as cheerful as ever, Queen Jelena smiled back at Mikhailovich and his non-committal answer. "Ah! Any answer would have been better than none. Well, never mind, Iva.. Prince Ivan, villages rise and fall anyway, and I have a feeling Mržnja will fall soon enough.." An aide approached Queen Jelena, and whispered in her ear. After he finished his whispering, bowed, and withdrew, Queen Jelena solemnly stood, and nodded reverently to Patriarch Arsenius. "I understand, Your All-Holiness, that you are ready to travel to Constantinople for the Synod?" Standing, the old Patriarch nods, and replies, "Yes, your Majesty; the preparations are complete, and all the Bishops of Serbia have either already departed or will depart in the next few days." Absentmindedly, Queen Jelena begins playing with the ends of her hair, twirling the strands about in her fingers. "Mmm, I wonder why Patriarch Gennadius called this Synod, anyway? I am obviously no Bishop, but I don't know of any doctrinal disputes raging at the moment.." Raising her eyebrow, she smiles grimly to the Patriarch. "...do write me, Your All-Holiness, and keep me informed of the situation.. and be always watchful, I don't trust the King of Turkey a single bit. Who knows if this is some sort of Turkish plot.." The Patriarch bows fractionally, in acknowledgement, and departs without a further word with several other Bishops in the room. After he leaves, Queen Jelena turns back to Mikhailovich, and smiles sweetly. "Well, Prince Ivan.. I had no idea you were a Prince, please, forgive my rudeness in not addressing you properly!.. my Grandfather, even though he was a great man when it came to ruling, was not the greatest when it came to designing fortresses. And, I must admit, I may have inherited some of his shortcomings, because I enjoy horseriding.. unbecoming for a Queen, I'm sure, but.." breaking out in a wide grin, she finishes, "I am the Queen." Cocking an eyebrow at Prince Ivan, she asks, "Would you care to join me?"

 

[N Katsyev]

Smederevo, Invitation​

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"Ah! Any answer would have been better than none. Well, never mind, Iva.. Prince Ivan, villages rise and fall anyway, and I have a feeling Mržnja will fall soon enough.." ​

Ostrov knew immediately that his answer had not been what this young woman was looking for, but it was honest and he hoped that at least counted for something. While her reply gave him superficial confidence in this, he still wasn't entirely sure in the depths of this conscious. His thoughts were thankfully interrupted however as an aide approached and the Queen fell into conversation with Arsenius. He hadn't heard of this synod to be held in Constantinople and eagerly listened to discussion for any further hints toward it and its purpose. Sadly, it seemed that those here knew nearly as little as he did.

"Well, Prince Ivan.. I had no idea you were a Prince, please, forgive my rudeness in not addressing you properly!.. my Grandfather, even though he was a great man when it came to ruling, was not the greatest when it came to designing fortresses. And, I must admit, I may have inherited some of his shortcomings, because I enjoy horseriding.. unbecoming for a Queen, I'm sure, but.." breaking out in a wide grin, she finishes, "I am the Queen. Would you care to join me?"​

"It would be impossible for me to even consider refusing such a pleasant request.", responded Mikhailovitch in an eagre manner which he immediately regretted putting forward. He couldn't help but wonder if his growing affection for this young lady was more than of a father or something entirely different. What he did know however, was that more and more he simply wanted to learn more of her, to experience more of her presence. That, for now, was enough. With a smile that came forward despite himself he added in his deep bass, "You'll have to forgive me though if I'm a bit rusty, its been years since I've properly been riding."

 

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Jelena laughed a little as soon as she heard Mikhailovich confess his riding was a bit rusty. Still grinning, she says, "Oh, Prince Ivan.. I'm so sorry for laughing, but.. well, I've never known a man who wasn't a good rider. Part of growing up with an army, I suppose. Well, once you learn to ride a horse once, you never forget. You'll do fine, I'm sure." With that, Queen Jelena rose, and beckoned for Ivan Mikhailovich, his aide, Stefen, two of her most trusted guards, and two of her maidservants to follow her to the royal stables.

As she walked to the stables, outwardly laughing at the polite jokes the men told, she felt far different inside. She didn't know what to think about Mikhailovich. If her father were still alive, Mikhailovich would be older than him.. on the other hand, he was rough, rugged... but attractive, in some strange way. A bear.. he looked like a bear, like a great bear from Russia. Oh, but that didn't matter now. As much as she wanted to, she couldn't allow a man.. not right now, to have any real influence on her. She had just come to the throne, and she had to secure allies first.. which led her to the next disappointment. Either Mikhailovich didn't pick up on the real meaning of her story.. which he did, she was sure of it, or he didn't have the power to commit to an alliance outright. Well. She would just have to raise the issue again, a bit more bluntly, wouldn't she?

Finally, they arrived at the stables. Placing one foot in the stirrup of a great white horse, and gracefully lifting herself up into the saddle, just as easily as a man takes a step, she grinned at Mikhailovich. "Well, here we are. Take any horse you'd like.. oh, that brown one over there, Motovilo (swift), he's a good one." As Mikhailovich, Stefen, her two guards, and her two handmaidens all mounted their horses, Jelena slowly guided her horse out of the stable, past the main gate of Smederevo, and into some lightly wooded, rolling hills south of the fortress, she looked behind her and grinned. "Oh, Mikhailovich, you lied to me.. you really are a good rider!" Slowing her horse a bit, allowing Mikhailovich and one of her handmaidens to catch up, she continued to ride in silence for a moment more, then looked over at Mikhailovich, her face more serious this time, and hesitantly said, ".. Prince Ivan.." Thinking of how to say her next words diplomatically, she slowly continues. ".. I'm worried about the security of the Kingdom of Serbia. Perhaps I will be too forward with my request.. if I am, how can I help it..? Well, as you know, Venice attacked the Kingdom of Serbia ten years ago. They.. killed my father, murdered him, brutally. Many Serbians were killed, both in battle, and by Italian soldiers looting. I don't want it to happen.. ever again. Venice is still strong. Hungary is strong. The Ottoman Empire is strong. Serbia is surrounded by strong enemies.. on every side, it seems." Queen Jelena looks away. She knew that Mikhailovich would sense how worried she was. She didn't care. "I would ask you this, Prince Ivan.. if Serbia were attacked.. how would Czarina Mina respond?"

 

[N Katsyev]

Outside Smederevo​

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Motovilo was a beautiful chestnut creature and as Ivan noted to himself with a knowing grin, very well behaved, no doubt intentionally. Regardless out here, under the sun, far from the dark halls and cold stones that Iasi had turned into for him he was as happy as he could remember having been for quite sometime. Having a young, lively and attractive woman with him only made the experience that much more enjoyable, as young, lively and attractive women always seem to do. His guard down, the smells of the earth intoxicating his already happy mind he let out a laugh as Queen Jelena commented on his riding, "I must confess a truth in your majesty's words earlier. When I was very young, before I met my poor wife God rest her soul, I was in the cavalry guards. I was in one battle... well, it could hardly be called a battle... A group of Teutons had strayed on the wrong side of the border, my comrades and I were assigned to inform them they were not in fact welcome... "

As he was lost in his momentary nostalgia, the Queen when quiet until she once more broke the silence with a much more diplomatic question. It almost struck Ostrov as odd to have a diplomatic qustion put to him, so far he couldn't help but to have regarded his stay in Srvye as one of pleasure and not as a duty. Still, it gave him something of the comfort of familiarity to answer in his role as a diplomat a question asked in clear terms, "I think your majesty that I would write immediately to the Grand Princess and seek whatever aid she would be willing to give. I would inform her of the brilliant young woman leading the Serbians, co-religionists and even brother slavs. I must admit currently the Grand Princess probably does not have the best opinion of this land, the last diplomat sent to Russia from here was most displeasing to the Grand Princess. This is an impression I hope to correct as soon as I may however. Mina Andreyevna trusts me if nothing else, I could at the minimum expect to recieve financial aid for your cause... " Pusing his lips he looked over at the young Queen, so fabulously bathed in the sunlight, catching himself he continued, "I would suggest your majesty write to the Czarina. If she could see personally how like-minded I believe the two of you are... Well, it could only help. But know also that Pskov-Novgorod and Serbia are not so dissimiliar. Though Pskov-Novgorod may be stronger, she is surrounded by even stronger enemies, the unholy alliance between the traitorous Moscovites and the Mongol hordes themselves and then there are the Lithuanians, none of us have forgotten the resources that they can potentially stack against their enemies."

 

[cccino]

A letter arrives for the Queen. The writer appears to have had some difficulty in the early stages, but more confident towards the end, as though the hand that had written it was becoming accustomed to a language once known but forgotten. It is slightly condescending, as any letter from aunt to niece aught to be.

Onto her Majesty Queen Jelena of Serbia,

My dear niece,

Your ascendance to the throne comes as a mild surprise. My thoughts have been far from quiet Serbia for so long; I did not expect your father to die without male issue. Nevertheless, I am certain you are a quite capable ruler, in your own way. I expect the nobles would have difficulty placing their loyalty in such a young, untested Queen. It would be most unfortunate if any unpleasantness were to arise.

I hear already of your vehement support of the Serbian rites and Orthodoxy in general. This is to placate the nobles? Religion and tradition is a fine thing, but God is God and people are people and we cannot make alliances with any certainty based upon a common idea of religion, not in the Balkans. The Serbian rituals you practice are not entirely the same as those practised by the Greeks, or the Russians, and are not so dissimilar from those practiced by us. For, as you know, my husband is a Catholic and it is right for a woman to convert to her husband’s religion. If you were to marry a Greek or a Russian you would be honour-bound to practice the Greek or Russian form of Orthodoxy. And it is high time you were married. How can you expect to rule a Kingdom without your King?

The letter continues for some pages in this manner.

You must write to me when you are at difficulty or in need of advice. As you know, Ulrich is a very rich and powerful man, and sure to help you for my sake, if you but ask. I am told you retain your father’s title as Duke, or rather Duchess, of Bosnia. You would also, if you are well informed but of course I do not expect you to be for you are not three months Queen - you would also know the King of Bosnia is a fraud and a bastard, the illegitimate son of a line of illegitimate sons. This my husband tells me so of course it must be true. Ulrich says that the true Kotromanic King of Bosnia is a descendant of Stjepan I. The illegal King descends from Stjepan Ostoja who was the bastard son of his father’s wife to another man, and has no royal blood in him. Instead the heir to the throne should revert to the line of Stjepan II and as his descendant my husband is the rightful King. The time is coming when this claim must pressed upon and I am sure in return for Serbia’s help he will grant you Ducal rule over Bosnia as his governor there.

But that is enough of politics. I am certain you understand well enough loyalty lies with one’s family and you may rely on us as we rely on you. Speaking of family, might it not be wise for the Brankovic women to marry into the Cilli-Kotromanic line? You and your sister should at least seek to marry so as to best strengthen our families in Serbia and Bosnia.


Your loving aunt,

Duchess Katalin Djuradjic von Cilli

 

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As soon as Mikhailovich finishes reassuring Jelena that Czarina Mina would at least consider helping Serbia if she were attacked, she looked back over at Prince Ivan and smiled. "Thank you, Ivan. I have heard about the insolence of the ambassador to Russia. Be assured, that he was sent by a usurper to the Crown of Serbia. Oh, that still makes my blood boil, just thinking about it.. Silent for a moment more, as if unsure what to say again, she looks away for just a second, and then turns back, her head cocked to the side, her grin mischevious and full of life. "Well, enough politics for now. You used to be in the cavalry guards, you say?.." With a wink, she spurs her horse. As she shoots forward, rushing past Prince Ivan, her mount galloping at high speed, she her voice laughingly challenges, "Prove it!"


After several hours more, the little group returned to the stables, their horses panting and tired from the excercise. Queen Jelena walked back into the court, her face flushed, her hair tousled, but with a slight grin on her face and a twinkle in her eye from the hard ride. After entering the door, a messenger hands a scroll with the seal of Carinthia upon it to the Queen, bows, and withdraws. Breaking the seal, she gasps. Her aunt, whom she never remembered seeing her life, her father's sister, actually wrote to her! Upon reaching the part concerning Bosnia, she quietly comments, "Mmm.. an interesting proposal.." After reading the last page, she hands the letter to an aide, to be placed in her archives. Expectantly looking at the court, she announces, "I suppose the time has come to send an embassy to the Holy Roman Empire, so that Serbia can be represented in that Kingdom which holds the power of life and death over our land. Who, I wonder, will be the one to first travel to Carinthia and give my reply to my dear aunt Katalin?" As Queen Jelena's eyes scanned the court, Ante Starcevic shrank back. He really, really didn't want to go to Germany again. Oh God.. "Oh, my dear Ante Starcevic, how nice of you to offer to represent the Kingdom of Serbia in the Holy Roman Empire. I'm sure you'll do fine." Grimly and reluctantly returning Jelena's smile, he bows low and replies formally, "It would be an honor to serve the Kingdom of Serbia and Your Majesty. I shall be ready to depart for Carinthia at your pleasure." With a gracious nod, she accepted his 'volunteering' to represent her as her man in the Holy Roman Empire. "Excellent. You will depart in one week then, enough time to write a letter back to the Duchess and prepare a gift for the Duke. Perhaps it would suit you to begin your travel arrangements?" With that, Ante Starcevic bows, and departs for his villa. Standing again, Queen Jelena looks around the court. "Is there any more business?"

 

[N Katsyev]

Ostrov's Villa​

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Pleasantly exhausted, feeling younger and at the same time older than he had in years. He was getting terribly sore and stiff already but Ivan Mikhailovitch was plenty happy and invigorated none the less. Slumping down into the chair at his desk, breathing heavily. Ordering pen and paper from Stefan he decided while he still had it fresh in his mind to finish his letter to the Czarina...

"...it is my belief that is would be a wise use of resources to continue to foster the relationship between Pskov-Novgorod and the Serbian Kingdom. The Serbian Queen, a delightful and clever creature rightfully fears the intereference of surrounding powers not just in her sphere of influence but of very threats to Srvye's integrity itself.

After so many years serving in the Balkans, I can only stress evermore the necessity in aiding our co-religionists in the region. Truly, it is here where the Catholics, Muslims and believers of the true faith mix and come up against each other most often and it is here where we must struggle as no other to keep our presence strong, vibrant, and growing. Finally might I suggest that you send another of more diplomatic influence than myself, preferrably a younger member of one of the more powerful families. There are political opportunities here abound, all the more magnified by the presence of a young, intelligent and unmarried sovereign.

Respectfully and dutifully in your service and debt,
Penned in his hand at the fortress of Smederevo,
Prince Ivan Mikhailovitch Ostrov"

 

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Marija stared sullenly out the window as her sister and the Russian went riding. How could she act so joyful? Didn't she remember that it was a Russian that had executed their father? Closing her eyes, now full of tears, she turned away from the window, and placed her face in her hands. "I need to get away from here.." Standing, slowly, unevenly, she walked over to the mirror made of polished obsidian, and looked at herself. Young, blonde, and in the prime of her life.. and she languished as a spinster in Smederevo. She was capable of so much more..

Carinthia.

Her aunt was Duchess of Carinthia, wasn't she? And the heir to that Duchy was unmarried.. a smile crossed her face. The influence she could exert..

"....Who, I wonder, will be the one to first travel to Carinthia and give my reply to my dear aunt Katalin?" Marija stood near the door cloaked in shadow, unseen by all. So, her sister wanted to reply to Carinthia.. she could go with this embassy, who would also negotiate a marriage on her behalf. Freedom, well.. freedom from her sister, at least, will come soon. She was sure of it.

 

[N Katsyev]

Toward Smederevo...​

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How long ago was it now Yuri Eevanivich questioned himself silently as his horse descended into yet another valley. Flanked as he was by two heavily armed servitors and a train of servants and attendants including even a Priest behind, the large blonde Melnikov had been silent for most of the journey from Vilnius. Draped as he was in furs to shield against the biting wind and cool still air that would hang about the depressions and forests, Yuri looked even larger than usual, his ice blue eyes, characterisitc of the Finnish and Russian blood of his family's line looked sombrely ahead.

More and more he was feeling like the Czarina's errand runner, all since that first trip to Eire... And as he thought of that emerald island so far away, he cursed what was said in between the lines of Mina's last letter to him handed by Andrey Yuriyevitch, to 'introduce himself to the young Serbian Queen...' Much like he 'introduced himself' to the Lithuanian Princess to be sure. Sighing, his breath rose up before his face. And then his thoughts shifted to his poor father, would he ever see him again? And Liza, Queen Liza he thougth with a sarcastic curl at the corner of his lips, she would be coming to visit soon and he'd no doubt miss her.

"Damnit!"

"My lord?", questioned one of the two servitors buried as they were beneath layers of plate and mail that dully reflected the winter's weak sun.

"Nothing Viktor, my apologies...", Yuri muttered, repressing the frustration that had so clearly manifested itself not moments before.

"There your Excellency, do you see?", inquired the other servitor indicating as the mounted another rise and in the distance the outline of a larger shape could be made, "Smederevo?"

This indication which should have been a relief after a miserable and long journey however only embittered Yuri further - which thusly made him feel only more of a strange awkwardness, "Should be unless old Ostrov has totally lost it..."

The suppositions over the next minutes only proved itself more true and soon the party was heading up a central avenue toward the fortress itself. Melnikov was in the fore with the two servitors half a length behind and finally the trail of the other attendants. Finally approaching the guardhouse, one of the attendants moved to the front to approach the gatekeepers and with a bow and a flourish of his arm indicated the large man upon the horse, "Introducing Count Yuri Eevanivich Melnikov, brother to Her Majesty Queen Yelizeveta Eevanavna of Portugal, to Prince Vladimir Eevanivich of Torzhok - and acting represntitive of Her Majesty Mina Andreyevna Polotovskaya the blessed, Czarina and Grand Princess of Pskov-Novgorod and Tver. His excellency seeks the hospitality of her Majesty Queen Yelena of Srvye."