The meeting I

It's been so long, old friend; how I have missed you. Jakub couldn't help but feel relief as he placed his first foot in the bathtub. Feeling at first a sudden burn from the exposed skin hitting the warm water. But as he continued deeper down with his leg into the abyss of foam that concealed the water, that once initial burn was replaced with the relaxing warmth that dug itself deep into his limbs. Feeling a cold wind grazing his naked body, he hurried down the bathtub, letting the water swallow him whole. His back had been aching for a while after that long train journey, so how good it felt to let the water massage his spine. He tilted his head backwards, closed his eyes and let out a big breath. He could hear the birds chirp in the background in his own silence and presence. He focused on the sound, trying to imagine what it would be like to be one of the little house sparrows lurking on the city's rooftops. Must it not be wonderful to not live in fear? To fly and see the heavens, the land, being able to sing out your joy and love? He could already picture it.

A tiny sparrow, flying with rapid flaps to propel himself through the city, seeing as the sun sets in the west, an orange light hitting the buildings. Wondering what that giant fireball must be that gives this wonderful world its beauty. Jakub fell deeper down into the bath. Suddenly, a new bird could be heard: a crow. Caw its hoarse melody, an ugly sound, ever complaining, ever mocking. He felt how the sun's rays disappeared behind clouds floating nearby, how suddenly it got cold. That sudden joy began dispersing, like opening a window and letting in the cold wind. Craw! Craw! Craw! The calm safety fled away from the worry and sorrow, as he could imagine the many times larger and darker shadow sweeping over the roofs, the wings gliding effortlessly, not as strident or clumsy as the little sparrow that propelled itself swiftly.

What could the crows be after? As the crows came in flocks, scouring the sky, the light rays found it challenging to break through their numbers. The threat of crows felt familiar cause they had always been there since the start of time. Could they have found the layer? Is there a pack of gluttonous crows there? Plucking open the eggs? Pulling out the unborn hatchlings, what could a little sparrow do? A crow is more prominent and numbers in the thousands, whilst the sparrows hide in the nooks and crannies of the city's buildings, smaller, fewer, weaker. Perhaps not even the sparrows live in unending joy. Jakub opened his eyes again, seeing that some clouds had blocked out the sun, although the situation was less dramatic than in his mind. The bathtub was in the middle of a large thirty square meter living room, connected to a balcony on the fifth floor. It was a weird choice considering water could easily spill on the floor, but the hotel staff had insisted on providing a 'befitting bath for honorary guests'. So there he was, looking out on the city, with its still green hills far away, with its streets where the trees were shifting yellow. It was seventeen degrees Celsius outside, but it felt like twenty-five after months spent in Brest. Calmly watching the wind caress the white curtains left a unique feeling of an undisturbed presence, like its own window of a reality where the worst had yet not occurred.

Suddenly, a knock could be heard on the opposite side of the balcony, deep in the apartment. Followed by a muffled sound saying:

"I'M COMING IN!"

Uh-oh. As the door opened, Yuri came in stomping like a parading horse.

"By the holy fucking spirit, Jakub. The meeting is in twenty minutes, and you are here turning into a raisin in a bathtub?!"

And back to reality

"Wait, the meeting is in twenty minutes?"

"Yes, the meeting is in twenty minutes. Get out of the damn bathtub. NOW!"

Suddenly feeling a little bit stressed, Jakub heaved in some air before gripping the slippery sides of the bathtub and heaving himself up, feeling extra heavy from the water pulling him down. Yuri stepped closer and handed Jakub the clothes he had placed nearby earlier.

"Put on some clothes, will you?"

He said whilst looking away and stretching his hand out like a stern branch towards Jakub.

"You should be ashamed, you know that?"

"Why is that?"

"First, you force me to be your chaplain for a bunch of good-for-nothing polish rabble of meatheads."

Jakub couldn't help but find Yuri's rambling amusing whilst putting on his pants.

"Second, you begin using me as a secretary for your paperwork when I should be in church, spending my days drinking wine and reading poetry by Lermonov or Yesenin."

"What's the matter, Yuri? I thought you liked reading inventory reports?" Jakub responded with a grin while the dark green jumper slid onto him.

"And for the third, you drag me all the way from Brest to be your consultant in this pompous meeting for fancy Euros. And you can't even keep track of time; I'm not your mother, Jakub. "

Yuri stared at him, waiting for an explanation. Jakub shook his head while putting on the shoes before reappearing a nonchalant smile under the stubble on his lip.

"I'm sorry, Yuri."

That was all that he said before finally tying his shoes. Yuri's face turned red as he tightened his fist.

"'I'm Sorry', Is that all?!"

Jakub shrugged his shoulders.

"What do you want me to say?"

Yuri mumbled some swear words whilst shaking his head before turning his heels and stepping towards the door whence he came.

"Just be at the fucking meeting in five, will you?!" He said whilst passing Jakub, leaving a wind that rattled Jakub's short, dark blonde hair.

"Okay, mamusia!!!"

Yuri reached the door entrance, turned his head towards Jakub, and stoically pointed his middle finger towards him.

"I'll be at the tables waiting for my Italian carbonara whilst eating my Italian breadsticks whilst I'm also sipping on my very Italian red wine. And I'll be damned if I have to talk politics with some mainland Kraut. YOU do the talking! Be there in time!"

Without anything else to say, he closed the door with a bang. Leaving Jakub with a smirk on his lips.

Low blood sugar, I have seen that behaviour before.

He looked around whilst tapping on his pockets, trying to remember if there was anything else he needed to bring before attending the meeting. Whilst looking around in the large apartment. Perhaps my wallet; you never know when you have to cash out in the presence of a priest.

He spotted the wallet on the bedside table, contrasting its black leather with white marble. He quickly picked it up and then began heading towards the door. As he opened the door, he was met with a figure on the other side, standing confused. Closing the door behind him, he was startled when he realised that the figure was not Yuri venting out his anger but rather a man with an elderly yet noble posture. The man turned towards Jakub with some eyes of ease and began talking to Jakub in English with a clear British accent on his tongue and a voice soft-spoken yet firm.

"Oh, I'm sorry if I startled you, but I was on my way to a meeting in the…erhm…." The man took a piece of folded paper out of his grey uniform.

" 'The Sala Ri-u-nioni?' "

The man's grey uniform had medals hanging on the left side of his chest. Despite that he probably was in his seventies, he still looked as if he had his best days ahead of him. Taller than Jakub with a bushy grey-white moustache hanging on his lips and eyes that looked like he had recently woken up. Jakub had to gather his thoughts as he switched tongues.

"Yes, It's just up the stairs here! Or at least that's what the personnel told me."

The man raised his heavy eyebrows as his eyes shined up.

"You're also going to the meeting?! How splendid! How rude of me not to introduce myself. My name is Benedict Williams! Captain of the trade ship Sunset."

Benedict took some steppes towards Jakub at the door entrance and reached with his hand. He accordingly shook the offered hand and answered, feeling the firm grip from Benedict.

"Jakub Wozniak! General of the Lukow regiment."

Benedict raised his eyebrows again and lowered them as his brain chewed on the information.

"The Lukow regiment… I'm not all too familiar with the troop movements. But I assume you are stationed in the mid-east of Poland, then?"

He knows of that shit-hole?

"Well, almost. I have been venturing between Lukow as a base and Brest in Belarus."

"Belarus? How interesting I thought they were aligned with the Russian doctrine… Ah come on, let's head upstairs we can talk on our way there about what's going on in Poland."

Benedict gestured towards the grey-white marble floor, which reflected the corridor's red walls. They began walking side by side towards the stairs.

"Well, I can clarify that I'm acting neutral to the states. The work in Brest was more… a rescue from an intruding incursion."

"I see… God, that they even manage to reach that far is a scary development. The perk of keeping to the sea is that we seldom see the worst of it. For now… Was this foray of recent times?"

As they walked up the stairs, they saw a yellow and dim light at the very top. The walls were clothed with paintings depicting gardens of all sorts. An apple garden, a wine garden, a fancy garden of a Chateau and, since they were in Italy, a garden with Adam and Eve.

"Well, the demons are a scary… development, but this horde consisted of maybe a hundred Demons? Well, they were fought off maybe two years ago. Now, we are just keeping diplomatic relations with Brest and ensuring it remains, softening the border between our countries."

"Interesting… Apologies if this sounds…sudden, but do you know priest Amadeo since before? Or even anyone else attending the meeting?"

Did they mistake me for another Jakub when sending invites?

"No, I don't. I'm quite new to foreign meetings. I honestly don't know if they invited me by mistake." He replied with a nervous chuckle. Benedict appeared to disappear for a second into his deep thoughts before squinting his eyes and giving a light smile.

"I don't think that's the case, Mr Wozniak, but there is a relapse."

Halfway through the stairs, they could hear the sound of a symphony playing from a piano. Although the sound was familiar, Jakub could not name the classic being played, let alone differentiate whether it was Mozart or Beethoven being played in a monophonic, soft and sleepy melody. The music, which was gently played, was accompanied by a shy mumble that continued upstairs.

"Priest Amadeo has gone that extra mile for us I can hear." Jakub said, trying to switch conversation topics.

"Oh indeed, I would agree, Mr Wozniak, although I would argue that the hotel personnel is a bit rude."

"Rude?"

"…Well, before I stumbled upon you in the corridor, I was going to ask one of the valets for directions. And I wanna apologise for the language, but to cite what he said, he angrily told me to 'fuck off' when I humbly asked."

I really hope it's not who it is.

"Excuse me, but you said that the… valet you called it?" Jakub asked.

"Yes, valet or hotel worker. He was rude towards me, I guess it's a common Mediterranean feat to hate tourists, but that was just childish." He replied with a frown highlighted by the walrus moustache.

"Did he look like he was in his fifties with a big black beard and long scraggly hair?"

"Oh yes, although how another chooses to dress is not of my concern."

I should be in Poznań raising my daughter, not this man.

He placed a hand behind his head, scratching it as he wrinkled his nose. But I guess it can't be helped. I deliberately pissed him off. The eyebrows, along with the moustache on Benedict, began pointing at Jakub as he noticed the head-scratching.

"Well, I have to apologise; it was actually one of my colleagues; he has been through some stuff. Which is why his behaviour was not the best." Jakub said.

The old bastard Yuri has not eaten. That's what he has been through…

Placed against the wall by what he had said, Benedict's condemning facial expression loosened with the tone of his voice.

"My apologies, sir. I sometimes forget that bad days occur to some more than others."

As they reached the last staircase, it was revealed where the meeting was taking place. The doorway into the meeting room could barely be described as a doorway as it appeared more like a gate. The gates and the room continued the pattern of grey-white marble, with the red walls of the staircase now entirely replaced by marble. Breaking up the white and grey colours was yet more paintings in aquarelle, but what really gave the walls glamour was the big fabric flags in white and yellow with keys crossed, being the Vatican's coat of arms. Some banners hung on the walls while some were carried by the order men that were placed along the room walls. With a two-meter distance, they stood there to protect the guests but mainly to display the power and strength the church possessed. Dressed in white robes, carrying riffles customed with bayonets and some with graciously engraved and crafted spears with metal poking out on the tips to resemble the cross. Further along the walls in the left corner was the source of the music, a pianist wearing a tailcoat as he gently played on a large black, wooden piano which echoed in the windowless room.

"And there we have the rest of the guests , Mr Wozniak." Benedict replied as both reached the doorway. Benedict came closer to Jakub and lowered his voice.

"Now, something I have found interesting about the guest list itself is that there is no common relation between any of us. Loose ends on all sides, to be precise. No one has direct state power, army relation or even financial ties to each other, which piques my interest on why Amadeo really has invited all of us."

Jakub looked towards the middle of the room, where a large, round, oak-brown wooden table was placed. From a far distance, it looked like some kind of pattern was on it if he squinted past the people in front of it. Above the table, there was a large chandelier hanging, spreading a warm, bright and yellow light across the room. Perhaps even more impressive was that the chandelier used large light bulbs instead of candles. The table also had around twenty-something chairs, which looked about right when glancing towards the guests that had been invited.

"What are you implying?"

"I don't know now for sure, but keep in mind and be vigilant as we steadily sit through this evening."

Vigilant? Why does this Englishman need to use such hard words?

As they closed in on the crowd, it was apparent it was not an average crowd you could find and gather on any street. Besides some of the waiters that were preparing; the group mainly consisted of middle to pension-aged men, but all were so distinctly dressed after their profession. Some wore dark suits and tuxedos, quite non-telling but professional. Others wore, like Benedict and Jakub himself, more military-orientated clothing. Some of the host's own attendances wore white robes either as armed order men or as pastors. But what really caught the eye were the counterparts of the Catholics, dressed in long dark robes, with long beards and long hats. Despite the long adjectives, the men were of an age where their hunched backs made them look small. Their robes and hats were brooded with gold threads resembling the cross, carrying necklaces of gold and silver. Speaking of priests, there is Yuri sulking… Unlike the other guests standing, he sat down at the large table, not mingling with the others. Skipping the introduction and pecking game of the gracious peacocks.

"I was wondering when you would show up!" The familiar Italian accent, meagre and old yet carrying the respect one would have for a grandfather, was unmistakable as Benedict and Jakub turned around. And there he was, Amadeo, the host himself, was right behind them at the door opening like a ghost awaiting them.

"Don't worry, gentlemen; you are actually right on time." Benedict and Jakub were startled, but even more so as they turned their heads back to the table, saw how all the guests had become quiet and stared towards the door where Amadeo was placed. The pianist still played his symphony, letting its melodious sound continue its echo. Amadeo looked past Benedict and Jakub and into the rest of the assembly before raising his voice.

"Please! Sit down, guests. The food will soon be served; take a seat and introduce yourselves. The evening will be long." As Amadeo commanded more than suggested, everyone began to slowly, one by one, put away glasses and began taking seats. I should hurry and sit besides Yuri for both of our sanities; if I have to talk to more Benedicts tonight, I will fall asleep. Benedict turned towards Jakub with a less relaxed and sleepy facial expression than before.

"After you, then Mr Wozniak," he said while gesturing towards the table a few meters away. Although he seems decent and sharp, maybe the politeness is just a poker face? They began walking towards where Yuri was seated. As they came closer to the table, the pattern on the table became more visible from the warm light above. The table did, in fact, not have a pattern. Instead, it contained a well-detailed map, perfectly carved in brown oak, with different shades portraying mountain ranges and bodies of water, which had been further illustrated with black lines that separated land masses as well as displaying country borders and major cities. The craftsmanship had been carefully planned on this table to perfectly fit a map and re-arrange scale to reflect reality and the aesthetic importance. Reaching the table, It was now clear what the map on the table was supposed to be in the light of the chandelier. Hinting what the matter of the calling was about, it displayed a substantial wooden brown map of Europe; from the west were the British Isles bordered the various seas. From the North Sea, where the long and large Scandinavia bound the north, continuing east, past the baltic sea into the immense Russian steppes, edging all the way to the Urals. Continuing south to Georgia, into the middle east, shifting west to Anatolia, into the Mediterranean, and back to where they were in Northern Italy. Through central Europe, To the Iberian Peninsula and closing the circle back on the British Isles. A Beautiful map for the eyes to wander through as it had been masterfully proportioned for the round table. You won't find this in Ikea, that's for sure.

He locked eyes with Yuri, who, although earlier in a horrible mood, looked relieved about the seating. Jakub reached for the wooden chair left to Yuri as Benedict came close to the left of Jakub. The chair was suddenly pulled away from him. In disbelief, he tried to follow the hand who had yanked the chair away from him and saw instead a young man, perhaps in his early thirties or late twenties, looking at him. At first, Jakub could have thought it was a servant with audacity when he clocked that the man was not wearing the black and white penguin tuxedos the servants were wearing. Rather the young man wore a dark blue costume with a couple of symbols and flags brooded on his left chest, colours yellow, red and black, reminding Jakub of medals Benedict wore, but those were not medals. The young man had brown hair back slicked with an equally greasy snail-like moustache above his lips. His back was exaggeratedly straightened as he placed one hand in front of Jakub in a gestured handshake.

"Pleasure to meet you! Name is Hans Klossner, Kansler of the Sachen-Aristocracy ."