Union Court of Pskov-Novgorod

[N Katsyev]

October 1445, Porkhov​

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Konstantin Varlamivitch Krestov cast a thoughtful gaze from his vantage point on a hill that rose to the south of Porkhov overlooking where the river here broke into two - one heading eastward to Dno, the other to the southeast toward the frontier with Tver. More importantly this spot on the hill overlooked the bridge across the very same river that led into the city of Porkhov itself.

The whipping autumn winds tore across the landscape, and even more brutally across the crest of the hill where Konstantin's horse shuffled beneath him. Krestov sighed and turned his attention now to the bridge in particular and not the brilliant forests of autumn colour he had been looking at. While the forest was the same it had always been, the bridge showed that Russia was at war. The numerous men surrounding it with torches always kept ready and lit under orders to burn it at the approach of the Lith are what unmistakably gave this impression.

His silent perceptions however were interrupted by a familiar voice, "Kostya, i'm heading back to Pskov, is there any word you'd have me deliver to Zakhary Sdilivitch?" Kostya half-turned away from the bridge to look upon the face of his friend, Vladimir Melnikov. However what he saw was a warrior in the full battle array of a mounted nobleman and one of considerable wealth and prestige. The Kharins after the harvest in Gdov had come south to stay with the Melnikovs in their city estate in Pskov. This had been a common trend, and a number of grand balls were planned to be held in the city to raise funds for the war effort from the nobility of Pskov-Novgorod with the return of many of the serving boyars for winter quarters. The Lith had not marched now, and it would be impossible for them to do so for quite some months.

Konstantin Varlamivitch smiled and put forth his gauntleted hand, taking Vladimir's in his own in a strong grip, holding it for a moment with pressure before letting go, "Simply tell everyone that I should be there in a week, travel well Melnikov."

Vladimir returned his friend's smile and a slightly perciptible haze left from his open faced helm, indeed the days were becoming colder with every passing eve. Vladimir turned his gaze out to the forests of the opposite bank and sighed, though a smile remained on his face, "A shame, I would have liked to cut into the ranks of the anti-christ to assure a splendid nativity. Maybe we shall have to wait for May to do the Lord's work..." With a slight shrug of his shoulders the large man guided his horse around to begin its descent down the hill.

Kostya called out after him, "Are the rumours true Volodya? Is Yuri expected back before the frost?"

Vladimir paused halting his horse with a quick yank at the reins, he half turned toward his friend again, "Rumours? No doubt my brother will beat me to Pskov, until next comrade."

Kostya watched as Vladimir then trotted down the hill before turning away to look back at the autumn expanse before him with a slight snort, speaking lowly to himself, "Yuri Melnikov back in Pskov... I think these Lith cause far more trouble than they realize..."

 

[N Katsyev]

Great Hall, Pskovskeey Kremlin​

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The door closed heavily behind the Moldavian party as the page addressed slipped his way out. A loose fitting hooded cloak, black as night slipped to the floor and from its folds emerged the slender graceful frame of one who had not graced these halls, the halls of her home in far too long. The Princess looked about her, everything seemed so little changed - in fact the only thing that could discern for her that this was not the same room as two years ago was the presence of the Moldavian party.

The few servants and pages who were present kept near the edges of the hall as if expecting something. However they all looked with a mixture of curiousity and delight at the beautiful Princess they remembered among the host of strangers. Minutes later the large doors that entered into the hall opened again and two columns of the prized Kremlin guard marched into the room. As if perfectly directed by an unseen hand, without emotion, without error, or even what would seem to be truly human movement they marched forward and sharply turned their boots resounding in echoes through the now quite silent hall. Twenty on each side of the door was their final number, each one in the finest array imaginable, their very dress, stature and bearing expressing at once elegance, power and lethality. However these traits were only attributed to these men in emulation, emulation of the one who followed them into the room.

Katya watched the procession with a bit of a knowing smile, her body held in a sort of twist and half swivel, that slowly straightened itself as she turned her torso fully front to the display ahead, and finally toward the shape of what at that moment seemed the center of God's creation, the focal point of what everything revolved, and Katya's own flesh and blood. The two women, almost as twins in appearance, in bearing watched each other silently in a hall that was devoid of noise.

For, however, what seemed like an eternity but was only a moment Mina paused. And then, as with everything, as if it were the most natural thing she could have done, the right thing to do and the most wise thing to do she began walking toward the Moldavian party. The sound of the movement of the fabric of her sleeves hanging down and brushing against her hips, the light tap of her steps as she approached were the only sounds. Katya dressed not nearly as formally as her aunt, in simple travelling clothes designed for warmth, comfort and riding - not the beauty and regality that her dress often betrayed.

The cold formality of everything so far though could only last so long. These were two Princesses, this was an aunt and niece, this was omnipotent sovereign and loyal subject, these were two beautiful women, but primary of all these were sisters and the closest of friends. Katya surged forward, her face only moments before with a cold smile, now beaming with tears streaking down her cheeks as she rushed to embrace the beautiful creature opposite her that had shared so much with her.

As if in a brilliant flash of light that made all time up till its climax vanish the two women embraced. A hall silent, broken by the sound of clothing, of steps, then of running now was only graced with the sounds of loving whispering, sniffs, stiffled laughs, giggles and kisses. Katya's hands moved to the back of Mina's head as she pressed her full lips almost desperately all over the face of this creature she had missed so dearly over all this time. The two bonded by life and death oblivious to the world around them and another figure entered the hall from behind.

Worn with both care and time, Alexei Timkin entered the room with a bowed head. His wrinkled face creased with a full smile as he skirted his way around the Princesses and approached the Moldavians. He nodded respectfully to Dimitru a twinkle of recognition and greeting in his kindly old eyes before passing on to Petru to whom he bowed. But his bow was not very low, though his whole body spoke that it was not for any lack of respect but his own feebleness. Rising he met Petru's eyes, "I welcome you my Prince, your coming is not only greatly appreciated but... " He half turned to the two women engulfed in their mutual embrace and affections, "..emotional."

 

[Mettermrck]

Joao scowled. Couldn’t these men understand Latin? But the blank looks they were conveying only made him shake his head in frustration. Where on earth had Vladimir gone? His unit had long since moved out to another location, no doubt conducting winter probes for the Lithuanians. Leaving Joao here with a small patrol of around one hundred cavalrymen, some distance east of Pskov.

That he would ever find himself in the midst of a war in Russia, Joao had never dreamed. But when word reached the Melnikovs that the Lithuanians were marching into Novgorod, he knew there was no choice for him. Everything about his life...his wealth, his position....his family, was now intertwined in the fortunes of the Pskovian state. He was a lord, yes, but he was also a knight, and a trained soldier, if not a superb one. Joao would be needed.

His wedding to Yelezevita had understandably been put on hold, and he had mixed feelings about that. He longed to be with her now, the cool weather and the rough life of a soldier in the field making him long for the comforts of the Melnikov manor and Joao’s own newly completed residence. Yet he was fighting for Pskov now, and that meant he was fighting for her too, and their future together. And so he had gone to Vladimir, and volunteered for his command.

Unfortunately, that now meant he was stuck on some forsaken frozen road in the middle of nowhere, trying to explain the intricacies of forming an encampment...all in his broken Russian. The troopers looked torn between confusion and laughter, and Joao secretly hoped that the coming of night would prod some grizzled veteran to pick up on what he was asking.

 

[von Streusser]

"It would appear" Petru said, with a smile "that it is not my arrival that is so emotional after all."

Dimitru grinned warmly at the scene before him, the old man who greeted him. This, somehow, felt far more like home now. His thoughts, however, were interrupted by Petru, who felt the need to explain the presence of a dozen heavily armed men in the court of the Czarina of Pskov.

"My lord" he began to Timkin, hoping to simultaneously explain himself and not interrupt the Princess' reunion. Dimitru translated Petru's rich speech in Vlach to Russian. "Dark words have reached Moldavia in recent months, even darker than the horrid fate to befall us recently. The Voivode has heard of the war with the Lith, a war which he feels in great part responsible for. Guilt racks Stefan II's mind, as he feels he has helped bring this fate down upon you, with what began as a simple threat to missionize Moldavia. He feels guilt as well for being unable to help Moldavia's dearest friend in her hour of need, locked as we are in our own struggle for redemption and liberation of our homeland and people. Had it been any other time, he would have sent both money and men immediately. As it is, I am all we have to give.

I have been charged by my brother, ah, the Voivode, to serve Pskov-Novgorod in any manner she sees fit, either by fighting the Liths in the field, or remaining here to protect the Czarina with my life." Some flash in his eye, some dark undertone in his voice, indicated that he would not be deterred from doing these duties. His size and his stature showed him as a man not to be trifled with.

"I have brought twenty men of the Marius, er, Hammer Tribe, the Voivode's best soldiers to assist me. We are all Moldavia has to give, and though we know we are not enough, we ask to be accepted nonetheless."

 

[N Katsyev]

Great Hall, Pskovskeey Kremlin​

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"Does your arrival not include the return of our Princess? For this alone you have the appreciation of millions and the grace of God. That you have brought even a single able-bodied man to fight alongside us is far more than we could have expected and will be remembered." His old eyes wandered over to the armed Moldavians around him before passing Petru's and resting on Dimitru to translate, "Each one of these men is worth twenty of the Lith. By that reckoning we have four hundred and not twenty..." Suddenly pausing as a new voice sounded in the hall...

"The peasants, the old ladies, they call Vytautas the anti-christ, defacer of the holy land and the angel of death for the destruction he has caused. Actions reverbrate through Russia, be they in my own lands, those of Moscow, or those of Vilnius. When Yaroslav's wicked brother enlisted the aid of the Poles to aid him in his evil attempts to gain Kiev, the residents of the city slit their throats while they slept. Russians never have and never will tolerate the filth of invaders. Come to Russia with friendship and it will be returned to you, come with the sword, and that will return to you as well." Mina's head was resting on Katya's shoulder, nustled in the Princess' hair, her eyes glistening with fresh tears that while no longer flowing left salty streaks down her beautiful face looked upon the Moldavian Prince and Dimitru.

She paused and whispered something to Katya before withdrawing from her embrace and coming to stand straight before the gathered Moldavians and Alexei. She nodded respectfully to Petru and offered him her hand, during the gesture casting a smile over to Dimitru, "It is good to have you in my hall again friend, it has been far too long." Katya her back still held to the party and her head slightly bowed sniffed and made her way over to the side of the room, drying her eyes with the palms of her hands and resting against one of the couches her arms crossed over her chest and watching those in the middle.

 

[N Katsyev]

Khokhlovy gorki, Northwest of Porkhov​

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Stone structures were something of an anomoly in Russia and could almost without fail be attributed to a number of conditions. The first of these is that you are in Pskov, Russia's ancient bulwark against invaders from the west and as such posessing more buildings in stone than much of the rest of the country combined, the second is that you are in a major city, and thirdly you are at a monastary. The third was in fact the case in this instance.

It should be noted however that not all monastaries and cathedrals were in stone, most were not. However those that were, were for a reason. It was not in honour and respect to God, that could be just as well shown in the breathtakingly intricate designs of Russia's many wooden holy spots and buildings. What it showed was that you were in a place that was at one time a hotly contested border. The Russian tradition was to construct strategic monastaries that not only served religiously, but acted also as a citadel in times of war. Russia's greatest fortresses, those of the Pskov Kremlin and Old Izborsk both shared this same trait, their great cathedrals within designed to act just as well and effectively as a bastion of defense as they would a place of worship. Khokhlovy gorki was simply just another of these, only the monks who lived there knew when it was constructed and by whom, maybe they didn't even know. Nobody could remember the last time it had stood among invading armies, but all knew its purpose and that it may just have to be used again.

Vladimir Melnikov had not been so much shocked as delighted when Joao offered to aid in the defense of Holy Russia from the invading hordes though it was best classed as unprecedented. Here was one of the highest noblemen of one of Europe's most powerful Kingdoms pledging his very life and soul for a land to him alien and unnatural. Vladimir had heard rumours of men to come from Tver, maybe even from Vladimir-Suzdal and Ryzan to help defend the motherland from the putrid invaders - but they were Russian, they were believers, while exciting it was hardly as impacting as to hear that a man not of this land was selflessly offering to spill his blood upon its holy soil in her defense.

Vladimir had left Porkhov some hours ago and the night was now slowly descending upon the great walls that surrounded Khokhlovy gorki, the sun's last fleeting light casting magnificent fiery hues upon her imposing structure. Now he smiled upon the spectacle of the man that would no doubt one day be his brother by marriage, the same man about to give his soul to the heavens in defense of Russia, quite obviously tossing himself like a wounded beast against the sometimes all too unconquerable and uncompromising language barrier. A number of the men he had been left on patrol with were staring at him with a mixture of confusion, novel interest and good natured humour. Vladimir couldn't help but reflect within himself the nature of these men with Joao, many were young having never before been at war, only having attained manhood in the years following the Moscovite invasion. Some were noble but most were not, distinguished sons of wealthy merchants, or simple commoners having been lucky enough to win thim distinction enough to earn them service upon a horse, maybe to one day join the ranks of the servitors.

Being the protective brother that he always tried (and sometimes in vain) to act as he was not to his sister, he made sure that at least her betrothed's first assignment would be a unit not going to the front, but just having returned from - though Joao was not told. This unit had returned two weeks ago from conducting foraging in the occupied territories and were now 'inspecting' the defenses at Khokhlovy gorki which was Golytsin's own pet term for being given much needed rest and re-supply. The walls at Kokhlovy gorki were just as able as they had been a century ago and it would be standing strong as countless other strongpoints throughout the land if ever the need arose.

Vladimir Melnikov had been given commander rank when war was declared yet bore himself no differently. He was young, good natured and respected by those under his command. Many had seen his exploits at Izborsk and even more knew of them. He was the eldest son of one of the most powerful families in Russia, a warrior of reknown, and if not a good organizer than an inspiration to those that followed him. He was the commander that would never ask someone to do something he would not, and most times would do it himself before asking another anyway. It was as such that when he approached the half-circle about Joao, silence preceeded him as the eyes that had fallen upon the beloved 'Partoogalitz' whom everyone liked though thought incredibly odd were turned upon Melnikov. Vladimir's horse came around in a circle before Joao, the warrior keeping his eyes upon this man he considered a friend the entire time, "Winter is coming Joao, you have a home to return to yes? If the Lith march now, we will not need to lose a single man fighting them, winter will clean the invader away for us. Most of the nobles are gathering in Pskov for a series of balls as I understand it... something of a charity. It is an honour to hold one in your home, a fee to get in to be then directed to the Czarina. It seems our little Princess plans to win this war as much on a wooden floor as a field of battle... "

He smirked and looked at the men about him before turning his gaze back on Joao, "I trust these ruffians have not turned you off of the army too much?"

 

[N Katsyev]

Pskov, October 1445​

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"The nose and the cheeks and the eyebrows, all the features, each taken seperately, were coarse and heavy, like the furniture and the stove in the "travellers' room", but taken all together they gave the effect of something harmonious and even beautiful. Such is the lucky star, as it is called, of the Russian face: the coarser and harsher its features the softer and more good-natured it looks..." - Anton Chekhov 'On the Road'​

Grisha sat sullenly on the side of the street, oblivious to the constant chaotic traffic that passed by before him and on more than one occasion in the last hour probably threatened his life of four and a half years. His mother had scolded him for tasting the jam before it was ready, though she obviously did not understand that he was only doing so for the good of the whole family. If he were not to taste it, then how would they know that it was in need of more sugar or honey? The entire batch could be made improperly and therefore spoiled and it would be his mother's fault, not his own for not allowing him to sample it before hand.

He sighed heavily and sniffed back tears that still hung on his boyishly long eyelashes. It was then that his reddened eyes caught sight of something quite different from the merchants, the tradesmen, the beggars and thieves. He turned around immediately to clutch at the dress of his nanny, however aside from a passing glance his nany seemed to give these newcomers no extra heed. With this his fear receeded and it was replaced inevitibly with curiousity.

The newcomers looked familiar, but invariably different. They were not dressed in the fine clothes of his pappa, they were dressed in furs, but not the furs his mamma wore, or even that Sasha bought from the tradesmen down at the market. Their furs were rough, mangled and yet seemingly far more protective from the elements than any Grisha had ever seen. These men, these newcomers that seemed to be of endless number with their uncoming waves in their ragged furs were certainly alike Grisha, pappa, mamma, nanny and even Sasha however they were pointedly not the same.

Their faces without exception in every detail were coarse, hard, unforgiving much as the winds and elements had been when altering them. All these men were invariably large, even the small among them seemed to possess in their bearing and stature at least another hand of height and were surely more than a match with their bare hands for the most fearsome mother bear protecting her young. Their rough and calloused hands gripped tools in every shape imaginable, some simple Grisha recognized, axes, swords, and others far different various wicked tools designed for some dark purpose that Grisha's mind could not yet comprehend.

Yet their eyes were all soft, shining brightly from under bushy eyebrows, flanking large red noses above the greatest tangles of beards. And though they were fearsome, Grisha at once also felt comfort, almost joy at their presence. For their faces though worn, though hard and unforgiving were not cruel but rather attractive and inviting. Maybe only Grisha saw it that particular day in Pskov when the frontiersmen arrived to join the ranks of the army, but these were not the most grizzly of Russians coming to join the crusade against the invader capable no doubt of wholesale slaughter of the enemy with the greatest of ease from their powerful limbs and bodies that at once looked ten years older and acted ten years younger, no Grisha saw that day God's very angels beautiful as the most pure lily sent from the Archangel itself to save all that was good and holy in this world.

 

[unmerged(8915)]

The ambassador of Suzdal speaks:

"Your Highness,

Vladimir shares a common interest with Pskov. It is my pleasure, that we have already taken first steps to reunite Rus in a pact of resolve. If you do not mind, I would like to speak privately..."

 

[N Katsyev]

The ambassador of Suzdal speaks:

"Your Highness,

Vladimir shares a common interest with Pskov. It is my pleasure, that we have already taken first steps to reunite Rus in a pact of resolve. If you do not mind, I would like to speak privately..."

Pskovskeey Kremlin, November 1445​

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It had been months now since their first meeting that beautiful summer day. The snows had begun to fall outside and all reports and accounts told that the Lith had entered Novgorod. Mina and Grand Ambassador Alexander Solzhenycin of Vladimir-Suzdal would now meet under circumstances quite notably different than their first meeting. However the issues would remain the same.

The guards to either side of her study door moved to allow entry into the small, always warmly kept room. The table in the center was adorned with a plate of nuts, breads, cheese and salts and a warm casque of sbityen was being kept, its sweet honey aroma spread about the room in tendrils of scent that would tease and tickle the nose. The door shut firmly behind the two Mina removed the heavy sable cloak often worn in winter and draped it upon a hanger. Her shapely body in a long dark green and purple dress. She motioned with her hand to one of the couches, "Please Grand Ambassador, sit. This is the most private situation I can provide."

Her voice came somewhat soft, as if not wanting to much disturb the previous silence of the small room where she so often slept aside from her bedchamber, where she spent sleepless nights pouring over reports with a glass of wine daintily hung in her beautiful fingers. With noted grace and dignity and slipped down into the couch opposite Alexander and took a small round wooden cup from the table, pre-filled with the warm liquid with a taste of vodka barely perciptible with a sip. Her eyes rose over the cup that she held before her lips, "We do indeed share a common interest, one that is in grave jeopardy. Please speak."

 

[Mettermrck]

Syevernaya Gryadka

Vladimir’s words had been most welcome. As his titular commander, his suggestion for Joao to return home for the winter was well received, and he could leave these difficulties of language behind with a clear conscience. Saying his good-byes to Vladimir, he informed his command of his departure, and was surprised that they so easily understood what he was saying. In his excitement to return to Pskov, he thought nothing of it.

Packing his small amount of baggage, he rode out as soon as possible, wishing to make haste to get to his home. The thoughts of Syevernaya Gryadka and the Countess Yelezevita spurred him on, with warm feelings of home and hearth. Thus far, his service to Pskov had been minimal, though his honor was well satisfied. If anything, he had learned a few more words of Russian, though it was doubtful that this was a major contribution to the war effort. Joao grinned as he reached the main east road leading from Pskov. He was no great soldier, that much was certain, though he was certainly willing to play his part when needed.

About ten miles east of the city, Joao became very thankful that he had had a side gate built at Syevernaya Gryadka. By taking the new road straight to his residence, he must have saved several hours of travel time. Not to mention that going through Pskov would have required a customary visit to the Czarina. His eyes brightened momentarily at the thought of her, but he continued to approach his home with great haste.

From the last he had heard from Vladimir, the residence at Syevernaya Gryadka was fully constructed. Although the landscaping would not be fully appreciated until the spring growing season, the building itself was completely finished and it’s furnishing well in-hand. According to his brother-in-law, Yelezevita had moved in several months ago and her control was well established.

Just how well, Joao would discover upon arrival. There were lots of activity taking place, servants shoveling paths of access, cleaning off windowsills of excess snow, and other tasks. They worked with an organized efficiency, as if a guiding hand was driving them. This suspicion was confirmed when Joao attempted to gain access to the hall itself. Having convinced the door guards of his identity, he found he was no match for the new Steward, Vasili.

”Yes, Master, I’m quite sure you are who you say you are. And certainly, Her Excellency will be informed. But rules are rules. You simply cannot enter the main residence in that condition – her instructions. No exceptions. There’s a room over there where you can bathe and procure some fresh linens. And then I would be happy to admit you, master sir.” Joao had glared at him for a moment. This impudent lout! Telling him to bathe! Looking down at himself, he could tell that his dirty overcoat and unkempt hair was inappropriate for a majestic hall such as this. But to be told so by a servant?!?

And then he calmed, and appreciated just how well Yelezevita had control of affairs at Syevernaya Gryadka. When not even the Count could circumvent the rules? At last he grinned, chuckling to himself as he went into the antechamber to bathe and change. With fortune, he could wash the grime and dirt of soldiering away. Though he would have to see about Vasili. A man should at least have some power in his own house.

 

[unmerged(8915)]

Solzhenycin and the Grand Princess confer in private.

 

[N Katsyev]

Mina's Private Study, Pskovskeey Kremlin​

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​

The Czarina remained rather emotionless as the Grand Ambassador of Vladimir-Suzdal spoke and only with his conclusion did she make a reaction and that was only to set her cup down on the table seperating them and lean her to the corner of the couch where the back met rest at the side. Her eyes went momentarily to the fire that warmed them before returning to Aleksandr, "Surely an alliance with Moscovy is necessary for unity and in the long run inevitable. However I must sincerly question whether Moscow's loyalty lies with the Lith, the hated enemy of Rus, or with Russia. Quite obviously their actions point to the former.

When our Russian orthodox brothers rose in revolt against intolerance in Lithuania, Moscow was the first to act to attack them. Attack their own brethren suppressed and abused by our most hated enemies. Surely, if Moscow were to join us in this war against Lithuania, show their true dedication to their own people, to Russia, then I would retain some semblance of respect for them. But as things stand, they are traitors and oath breakers. It was not long ago that the lands of Kola, stolen from Novgorod were to be returned with Pskov-Novgorod paying to help finance the war against the Horde. And when all deals were made, the Moscovites pulled out at the last moment.

Remember that Moscow's whole structure was created in service to the Mongol Khan. The Moscovite Czar does not rule as a Grand Prince of Kiev, he rules with the unjust and ungiven power of a whore of the Mongols. The nut does not tend to fall very far from the tree, and their actions of late have only proven this. I only urge caution to Vladimir, surely a snake will sleep with you for your warmth, but its impossible to tell when it shall bite you. Let Moscow prove her dedication to the Rus that myself and your Grand Prince wish, love and desire for. Let Moscow join us against the enemies of Russia, that shall be the only time that any of us can fully deem them worthy of any trust."

 

[unmerged(8915)]

Solzhenycin listens carefully to the words from the Czarina:

"I agree you majesty, on the point that the Volga Alliance is a first link in the strong chain that will one day be Rus, joining all free realms in voluntary bond of friendship, understanding and unity.

Alas, who would first strike the iron? Who would first plunge into the unknown? Someone had to take the first step, and the peace-loving Suzdal and Vladimir have decided it shall be us.

We urge other nations to swell the ranks of the Alliance..."

The conversation moves into hushed tones

 

[N Katsyev]

Mina's Private Study, Pskovskeey Kremlin​

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The Czarina listened quietly to the Grand ambassador, her delicate hands folded in her lap until he finished. Her lips kept a straight line until she moved to stand, suddenly a slight smile breaking her expression. With soft graceful movements that only a woman can make subtle changes of path and bearing she set herself down on the couch next to the man and leaned over slightly, her chin hovering just over his shoulder as she began to speak whisperingly and gesture with her hands, "Sasha, listen to me... While the words you speak are true, they are not proper in priority... Now... "

((pm to follow))

 

[unmerged(8915)]

Whispers give way to normal talk:

"Your Majesty, Lithuania has currently not expanded against the Russian principalities as much as the Horde did. We shall judge them by their actions past, not future.

The Horde has shown its intentions clearly enough, pushing their borders far beyond their yurts! Muscovy was the only principality championing the cause of the Rus by arm too.

Let us judge our neighbours by acts most of all, and less by their words. For sweet words can silence weary thoughts, but it is acts that will forge the Rus of both our visions'.

Your highness has a trusting friend in Vladimir. Of that you can rest assured."

 

[N Katsyev]

Mina's Private Study, Pskovskeey Kremlin​

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Mina sat back, a look nearing shock on her face, "Surely I am misunderstanding you. As we speak the only land that was ever truly Russian that the Horde rests upon is in little Russia, what they have taken from the Lithuanians. Surely you do not think that many of Russia's greatest cities, Minsk, Smolensk, Chernigov, Kiev were always Lithuanian? Their princes, devastated by the invasion of the Mongols, were then attacked by the pagan Lith and conquered. No my dear Sasha, you say we must judge by actions past, and these are the actions of the true enemy. Under the horde the church was allowed to flourish, the Lith are not nearly so kind.

And if you wish to speak of the Horde of the past, remember that it was Moscow that acted as their tax collector among us. It was Moscow that sacked and burned Tver when they revolted against the Horde. And in 1380 when the Rus took the field against the Mongol at Kliukovo, do you know who the allies of the Horde then were? The Lith. Truly Russia has two great enemies, one in Sarai, in the horde, and the other in Vilnius. But only one of them is currently attacking us, and it is they who must be dealt with first.

Do not be so quick to speak so valorously of the Moscovites. The Moscovites who have openly allied and befriended both of Russia's greatest enemies for their own gain. As princes of Vladimir-Suzdal, whose rights and privelidges were taken by the Moscovites, your claim to the glory of ancient Kiev, you should know as well as I that without the Mongols, Moscow would still be nothing more than a fortified post on a river - built I should add by your predecessors, those of Vladimir. Ultimately we must all join together, and we should do so now, but we must also realize where our primary threat lies. Its not to the east."

 

[unmerged(8915)]

Solzhenycin listens to the Czarina:

"Sadly, so it is that Suzdal and Pskov disagree afterall. You deem Lithuania the gravest threat, and we realize that you have good reasons to do so. But Vladimir is many leagues away from Lith border outsposts.

Deem others by their present actions, not actions taken centuries past. For if we want to reforge Rus of Kievan fame, we cannot look back at the deluge of the Horde's invasion. Who torched Kiev? Who allowed Lithuanians to march into the fertile Russian farmland? It was the Tatar, who has divided us. Let's not be so anymore. "

The ambassador is obviously saddened by what he came to realize. He then resumes his speech:

"We cannot aid you, for we do not seek nor sanction discord between Christians, for even if Papist, they are still closer than the mounted archer with a pelted hat and slanted eyes.

War is the one undoer of all. Peace and understanding the true creator of lasting bonds."

With that the downhearted ambassador bows.

 

[N Katsyev]

Mina's Private Study, Pskovskeey Kremlin​

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Mina had found herself watching the fire that so insatiably gutted and tore upon its fuel while the man from Suzdal spoke. With his bow she stood as well and offered him her hand, "We of course respect your choice. And with the Bulgars and Turks of Kazan so close to your border I can understand your caution against the Tatar. I just hope you understand, that the actions of the present are the Lith looting, raping and destroying innocent lives, innocent Russian lives for nothing more than their desires of conquest.

I remain as before fully supportive of a union and alliance of all Russian princes. But when you return to your Prince, inform him of what I have said. Now is a grave time, if Pskov-Novgorod is weakened in this conflict, if the Lith are allowed to grow stronger, then the Russia that your Prince and myself dream of shall be an impossibility. If that dream is not worthy of Vladimir's aid to us in the eyes of your Prince, then I must and will respect that. Take my words of caution close to heart though, watch Moscow closely. They have already in this year betrayed their fellow Russian princes, murdered their own people, they are more than capable of doing it again. While we are involved in this war with the Lith, we are powerless to protect you. Remind the Grand Prince Yuri, he has a kindred spirit in Pskov."

 

[Mettermrck]

Syevernaya Gryadka

He had laid out the basic plan of the residence, yet its magnificence shocked even him. After complying with Vasili’s intructions, under protest, Joao felt refreshed, free of the grime of soldiering. He was once more the noble, the aristocrat in his grand home. It was an experience to savor, and he took great pleasure in walking along the halls of Syevernaya Gryadka, experiencing all the comforts and majestic accoutrements that made this building so grand.

He couldn’t find where Yelezevita was, so he contented himself with inspecting the various rooms and quarters that made up his new estate. It was clear that the Countess’ hand was all over Syevernaya Gryadka. The building itself featured an outer ring of rooms, with the main entrance facing south, the aforementioned antechambers on the left, and a series of impressive galleries to the right. Many pieces of both traditional Orthodox and western art hung on the walls of this elegant room, including pieces of sculpture of many of Europe’s greatest heroes, east and west. Beyond the gallery, in the southeast corner of the building, was the solarium, or sun room, with large vaulted windows that would catch the sunrise in the mornings with a peaceful open air.

North of this, on the eastern side of the building, was the main receiving room, close enough to the main entrance where guests could be led, while giving them teasing glimpses of the gallery and solarium. It was a long open room, with chairs – not quite thrones – for His and Her Excellencies, an actual throne in case a foreign monarch or even the Czarina paid a visit, as well as chairs for courtiers and other functionaries. Beyond this, to the north, was a large private dining hall, for when company was small and intimate, or perhaps no company at all. No expense had been spared. The finest woods had been utilized to carve grand ornate tables and chairs, dominated by yet more art, elegant tasteful tapestries of outdoor scenes. In the northeast corner were the quarters of the household servants, which Joao pointedly ignored, along with the kitchens on the north wall. He secretly hoped Vasili found his rooms uncomfortable. Along the western wall were the main rooms. The massive master suite in the northwest, with a huge row of guest quarters leading down to the southwest, each designed in a variety of styles. It was clear that the Countess had imported vast quantities of bedding, decorations, and furniture from all over Europe. While most rooms were traditional enough, there were also Greek, Italian, French, German, and - Joao’s personal favorite - Iberian rooms.

Within the outer ring of rooms was a massive square of central rooms. The entire northern half of this center square formed the grand hall, which rivaled the size of the hall in the Yaroslav Palace in Novgorod. Joao had pointedly ensured that his hall was slightly smaller, so as not to antagonize the sensibilities of the other nobles, and especially the Czarina, he thought with a smile. The hall took one’s breath away, with tall vaulted ceilings, rich colorful tapestries that touched the sky, a cleverly designed ceiling windows that let calculated amounts of light in during the day. They were small, to conserve on weight, but as he Joao entered, it felt like rays of sunlight bathed the room. The day then...they would have to hold their first ball starting in the daytime. The room also boasted Joao’s single contribution to the decoration of his estate. Not fully explaining why, he had asked Yelezevita to send for the artisans who had worked on the mural of Alexander Nevsky, Rurik, Theodora of Byzantium, and Yaroslav the Great. It was a grand celebration of the heritage of Rus, though only Joao and a few others knew the true meaning of the mural. For a subtle reason, the room felt naked without the mural. And it was on a grander scale. Unlike the original version in Eezyashchniy, which had the fourth figure hastily added, this mural flowed together seamlessly. And with rumors from Novgorod, Joao was glad he had done so.

The southern half of the center square contained the main offices of the estate, as well as a large plush sitting room for relaxation, and a lounge for the private entertainment of guests. And so it was that Joao found himself in the sitting room, sitting on one of the many couches bathed in fur blankets that Yelezevita had arranged. To say that the residence was the peak of opulence was an understatement, yet he couldn’t help himself. The sheer scale of expenditure did not concern him...rather, it excited him. And to marry someone who appreciated such tastes. Magnificent he, thought, still unable to wipe the grin off his face.

 

[Fireblade]

A man, escorted by soldiers of Pskov to the city of Pechory on the Latvian-Russian border, arrives in a large building provided to him by the Pskovites. It wasn't really comfortable, but..

"Is the representative from your Princess here?" He asked the captain of the soldiers.

The captain merely shrugged, and replied,

"I have no idea."

Kurlemuše, a minor Duke, merely nodded, then sat down in a chair.

"Very well, do inform me when her representative arrives, so that I might meet with her."

Leaning back and getting comfortable, the Duke folded his hands behind his head.. and drifted off to sleep.

(OOC note: if this is unacceptable, then feel free to delete it. I couldn't think of any better way to arrive in the city.)