A local cuisine II

Bit interruptive, don't you think? Jakub unwillingly complied with the greeting, answering the handshake whilst Yuri looked up, terrified that the man would sit in between them.

"Jakub Wozniak, General of the Lukow regiment." The young man Hans, raised his eyebrows, seeming impressed.

"Ah ein General! I didn't zink I would have ze pleasure to finally meet a Russian General finally."

And here I thought my accent was horrible to foreign ears…Did he say, Russian?

Jakub smiled and laughed it off whilst connecting eyes with Yuri, who looked as surprised by Hans as Jakub did.

"I'm Polish, sir, but I presume that you are German then?"

Hans's impressed eyebrows lowered a bit.

"Ahhh, I see Polish. My bad; all those Slavic names always sound ze same to me. Anyways! Let's sit down! So vee can talk politics!" Hans said with an excited and angular tone. As he pulled the chair back, the pianist finally ended the slow symphony, to begin with a more resonant tune to the optimistic introductions around the table.

Hans pulled the chair he had snatched from Jakub further back so that he could sit in between Yuri and Jakub, oblivious to the situation. Pushed further to the left, closer to Benedict, Jakub tried to turn his head towards the British gentleman in search of salvation from this interaction. To his disappointment, Benedict was already engaged in small talk with another man in Catholic clothing. Okay, that's fine. We all gotta get new connections. That's probably why we have all been invited to begin with. Just smile and hear what the German has to say.

Hans laughed a bit as they both seated themselves on the wooden chairs.

"Don't you zink it's funny how homogenous vee are as a group?"

Jakub looked at Hans, that sat there smirking at the statement expecting a reaction from him.

"Well, look!!" Hans pointed with a finger around the table at the guests taking positions in the mumble. But trying to understand Hans's pointless joke wasn't what caught his attention but rather Amadeo, who had placed himself diagonally from his position and was placed at the table's most inward point of the room itself.

"ZEE! It's all just ein bunch of middle-aged white men. Not ein woman or ein foreigner to be seen."

For his own sake, I hope he is not going down that lane. Jakub laughed politely to feed Hans with the reaction he craved. But he didn't take the hint and saw it instead as an encouragement.

"Well, I'm not racist or sexist for zat matter, bu-" Cling, cling cling!

Hans was interrupted by the sound of cutlery and glass tapping. Everyone at the table turned their head from whence the sound had come as the mumble faded away, and Vivaldi's spring got interrupted by the pianist. The sound came from Amadeo holding an empty wine glass in his left hand whilst his right hand held a fork. Amadeo tilted his head upwards, looking down at the table and the people sitting there, waiting for the mumble to dry out completely. As the last words were spoken, Amadeo smiled and licked his lips before opening his mouth.

"Beloved guests of Bolzano, It is a pleasure to have you here. And we thank each and every single one, for your long journeys. Now befor…"

Amadeo paused and looked around at everyone that in suspense, had been invited, waiting for him to continue. Something seemed to have caught his attention. But as Jakub tried to follow the old priest's gaze that stared empty towards the gate, he could not find anything out of the ordinary. Amadeo quickly shook his head as the corners of his mouth slightly went up again.

"Now, before the food is served, please get to know each other since I'm sure we will have more things to talk about for days to come."

Jakub could feel a warm breath from the left ear as Benedict almost whispered in a low tone.

"Days? He wants to keep us for days to talk? yet he has not revealed what there is to talk about?" He's right. This assembly does not make much sense; I really have no real reason to talk to Hans or even Benedict. Jakub slightly shifted his face towards Benedict, attempting to respond, but right before Amadeo cleared his throat.

"As the night continues, focus on relaxing and getting to know each other rather than viewing this as work hours. The autumn in Alto Adige is a beautiful experience and time spent. Now continue, please." Amadeo raised the empty wine glass in a polite gesture before settling down again on his chair. As he was done, people began nervously filling the room with talk, starting with a handful as more joined in, recreating that inaudible mumble that allowed private conversations without drawing everyone's attention.

Jakub again shifted his head towards Benedict as he spoke in a low voice.

"Tell me, Benedict, as a trade captain. Isn't diplomatic meetings more or less part of your everyday life? Shouldn't you be more used to these kinds of invites?"

"Representing the crown and arranging meetings is certainly part of it, but I can always guess what it is about. Based on striking economic policies, tariffs and, in other cases being middle hands in twists."

Jakub chewed on the information while he saw how Hans began talking to Yuri, who tried his best to ward off any conversation. The light tapping of the pianist recreating a gentle entry for his music to ease the room could be heard.

"Is there not any slight relation with you and anyone at the table? You didn't happen to know Amadeo before?" Jakub said, perhaps more interrogating than he had expected himself to be.

"Unfortunately not. I take it that you also had a letter and one of those white-clothed errand boys knocking at your door when you got invited?" Jakub let out a small chuckle as vivid memories reminded him of a visibly dressed man getting stared at on arrival by his guards.

"Hard to forget, but are you sure there isn't even a slight connection to any of the guests here?"

Benedict got quiet and thought long while staring at Jakub before dotting with his eyes towards Hans.

"That boy over there, I wouldn't exactly say that I have any relations with him in particular, but I have met him briefly before."

Jakub's eyes raised, and he tried to shift his body even more away from the blabbering German that was annoying Yuri.

"Go on?"

"Well, I know his brother. The Reich counsellor of Saxony, Otto Klossner. A brilliant and calculated man."

"I thought you said people of no direct authority were invited?"

"Well, I was tripping on that line of what I consider an authority. For example, Otto is someone with authority, but his brother, Hans, only is in the position he is, because of Otto being his brother, not proficiency…"

"But he is still the brother? Shouldn't he have some influence on German politics, or at least in Saxony?"

Benedict scoffed and smiled.

"He is appointed counsellor over strategic developments."

Jakub looked at him, not following.

"For Christ's sake Wozniak, you are greener than I thought. When someone useless is being pitty kept, someone usually makes up a fancy title and gives them any random task for the foreseeable future. "

"So you are saying?"

"That Hans is nothing but a fraud playing important; you might as well fill his spot with air."

And he sat next to me, of all people; I'm starting to think this was a waste of time.

A light tap on Jakub's shoulder made him react; he turned around to find it was a waiter with glass and cutlery on a plate. Jakub moved his chair away as the man placed it on the table. He now clocked how more waiters put cutlery and glasses for the guests around the table.

"Excuse me, sir, would you like water, sparkling, beer or Kaiserspritzer?" The waiter asked in a polite and low tone with a pleasant accent accompanying the English.

"Do you have any wine, red preferably?" Yuri interrupted from the other side of Hans. Read my thoughts.

"No, unfortunately, the chef has chosen the spirits after the dish that will be served."

Yuri took the news surprised, but his face looked optimistic about the answer.

"My apologies. Does the chef have any recommendations?"

"Not really, but since you want wine, I can offer the Kaiserspritzer; it's white wine mixed in with sparkling water."

"Sparkling water, you said? I'll take one, then!" Yuri said with a pleased smile. Baffled by Yuri's hidden etiquette and manners, Jakub spoke up.

"Make it two then, will you!" he said, raising two fingers.

"Three even gents!" Benedict chipped in with three fingers in the air. Jakub lightly brought down his fingers as he gently tapped them against the table, following the rhythm echoing behind them. The waiter smiled as he nodded.

"Well, I'll be a true man zen and take ein beer!" Hans said when the waiter looked at him. The waiter nodded and continued onwards to the right from the four.

"Now zen, Yuri! What is it zat you do again?" Hans asked with a curious tone returning to his conversation with Yuri, but this time he had moved his chair back a bit to let air flow towards Jakub. Yuri looked relieved and almost happy again as the tides were turning for the quality of his evening.

"Well, I humbly serve Mr Wozniak here on your left as a humble priest." The answer was clearly not what Hans had in mind as he answered.

"Oh… how hinteresting. Vell, it must be very exciting to vork as a priest." The intrigue in the conversation tone had left Hans as it sounded cold and closing like Yuri's own before.

"It certainly is, but you must ask Mr-General-Wozniak of the great Lukow regiment how he finds it."

You fucking weasel, don't shake off the brat on me.

Jakub was trying to be quick and turn towards Benedict as if he had not heard anything that had been said the past minute, only to find that Benedict was busy talking to another guest to his left. He heard the chair drag against the floor to his right, closer to the table.

"Yes, how could I forget? Tell me, what is zat you do as a general most of ze time? Have you been at ze east front?"

Jakub slowly turned his head back towards Hans.

"Well, Lukow is in Poland, so I mostly stand as a garrison when trouble occurs in the Area of Lukow and Brest. "

Hans stared at him, nodding and seeming like everything was as clear as water.

"So Brest is in… ze south? Also in… Poland?"

Before more could be said, a hand suddenly came in between them, placing a wine glass in front of Jakub with what he assumed to be the Kaiserspritzer and a beer following Hans. The waiter disappeared almost as fast as he had come to continue placing drinks for guests around the table. Jakub heaved in some air before speaking again.

"Well, it's in the east in Belarus."

"Ahhhh." Hans said while nodding and picking up the beer with a weird grip around the glass when there was a perfect handle to grab onto. He took a sip or rather slurp of the light lager he had been served.

"So you don't fight any of ze Demons then?"

Yuri cleared his throat audibly, before covering his grin when Hans turned an eye.

"No…not really or well… every now and then, small spark ups on the countryside appear or investigations about cultists that need to be dealt with." Jakub answered.

He searched with his eyes for a clock to lay his eyes on, but to no avail whilst Hans continued talking.

"Ah, so you are like a police but with ein large army?" Hans said while giggling on the beer, taking another sip. Is the food here soon?!

"Sure." Jakub responded while nodding. Hans continued smiling, seemingly enjoying the conversation.

"Well then, Herr Wozniak. I zink I have gathered enough information. I have a business proposition for you!"

Okay?

"So, I'm not really in so much authority on matters, but as ze brother of ze Sachen Reich Kansler. I have a duty to secure diplomatic alliances zat can further secure our claim to Germany."

Okay…

"Und if I remember correctly, Poland is a neighbouring country to us. So foreign allies could be of hinterest to us both."

Yes… we are neighbouring countries…

"So tell me, I know zat Poland is experiencing a similar political divide like us in Germany. So, which leader do you align with again?"

"I'm sorry Hans, but I'm neutral in the whole conflict, an-"

"Well, zat might even be better! An alliance without ein conflict of hinterest is something the Reich Kansler could use!"

Who refers to their brother as the Reich Kansler?

Eager about the whole conversation, Hans unbuttoned his uniform and brought out a folded paper.

"Now I have a contract here! Where we could start off easy! It's a contract of open diplomatic dialogue."

What is happening?

"Well Hans I must assure you-"

Hans placed the paper in front of Jakub and gently placed an ink pen on top of it.

"Ohh, zis is so much fun! I'm here making diplomacy with foreign military powers! Now tell me, Herr Wozniak, how many soldiers are zere again in a regiment?" Hans said loudly as he began to tap the paper three times with his index finger.

Jesus, I think his brother sent him here to get rid of him.

"In a regiment? That can vary from country to country, but I would say around fifteen hundred." The voice that had said it spoke with an accent familiar but with a voice foreign and deep. Jakub and Hans both got confused about who had uttered the words as they looked directly over the round table. On the other side of the table was a man, old yet built, reminding of an ancient Bison, with grey and white hair connecting from a balding head down to a bushy beard. His skin was pink and pale, not from old age but from a harsh climate that was etched on his skin. His eyes were blue, cold and stern. He wore clothes different from the rest of the guests, yet it was clear that he was of the army, a large dark grey coat with sheep wole that covered every opening from the neck to arms.

"How rude of me to interrupt, but I couldn't help but be drawn to the Reich Kanslers brother himself." The words felt like a January wind, harsh and sharp, yet you could not tell whether he was mocking Hans or being fully serious.

"Stanislav Archipov. At your service." The man said while placing a hand on his chest.

Archipov… I have heard his name a couple of times in Brest… But in what context…

Jakub heard how Benedict choked on his drink from his left and started coughing.

"Okay zen Stanislav. I was in ze middle of something here." Hans responded, removing his eyes from Stanislav and shifting his whole body towards Jakub.

"So, Jakub, you are only commanding fifteen-hundred men?"

Only? Well, if I can make him unimpressed, he might stop talking.

"No." He said as Hans, in hope, raised an eyebrow.

"It's a bit over twelve-hundred. We have not been recruiting for years." And with that, the eyebrow was lowered.

"Oh…Well how fascinating." Hans said as he picked up his beer and took a sip, as he placed the beer back down on a wood-brown Romania, leaving foam on his moustache.

"Anyways…Archipov…Stanislav. You seem familiar with army structure." Hans continued with a smirk on his face.

"Are you Polish as well? Perhaps another of Herr Wozniak's officers?"

Stanislav looked at Hans with a long stare as the piano music began to ebb out from its symphony. He scoffed before saying: "Belarus, comrade. And where did you come from again… was your name?"

Benedict tried his best to choke out his coughing, not wanting to let in the heavy air that had been created. Perhaps I should try to sit this one out.

Hans's smile was long gone as he quietly stared at the man opposite him.

"Funny, you barge into other people's conversations without even knowing zeir names."

Stanislav's body began to move, laughing hefty at what Hans had said.

"I'm only joking with you! You were Hans Klossner, right?"

More people around them began to lose focus from their conversation, noticing the two throwing glares at each other. Jakub threw a glance towards Yuri, which looked equally bothered as him. Hans finally nodded at Stannislav before gripping his beer and taking another mouthful.

"So then, Herr Archipov. Besides joking around. Do you also control a regiment like Herr Wozniak here?"

More and more people began throwing glances at the exchange.

"No." Stanislav responded shortly

"That was to be exp-"

"I control thirty-three regiments, being Belarus's second largest offensive army. What did you do again Hans?"

That's where I had heard the name from.

Han's hand appeared red, gripped around the beer glass, and frankly, a vein was becoming visible on his pale forehead.

Before another clash of words could happen, perhaps aware of the situation, Amadeo stood up and began to tap the glass. The flat sound of metal hitting glass made everyone drop their conversation in sync with the pianist ending the last chord.

"The food is ready! Words from the chef are that this is a local and popular meal in the region, with a long cultural history that dances on your palette."

With the final phrase spun, he sat down as the curious faces shone, especially Yuri, who had been waiting for this since he arrived. From the entrance came waiters with plates that were covered with cloches. A few coughs came from the guests trying to lighten the mood again, restarting the mumble. A slight rumbling echoed in Jakub's stomach, awaiting one of the great suspenses of the evening. The pianist took up another song as they returned to normal, but the sound was unique as it was swift in tempo with distinct taps on the piano tiles. Jakub finally took up his Kaiserspritzer to taste it; as imagined, it tasted like saturated white wine, yet it was still pleasant from the sparkling water and lower alcohol percentage that fizzled nicely on the tongue. A clean-shaven man in a red tuxedo diagonally near the maps British Isles opened his mouth.

"Frédéric Chopin, Fantaisie-Impromptu. A pleasant choice of the pianist." The man raised his glass and locked eyes with Jakub. Jakub decided to de-escalate some previous tension by raising his glass towards the man, who nodded and returned to a conversation with a man of similar attire. The next second he looked down; a plate had been placed in front of him with a cloche. Not revealing even a hint of what could have been cooked, nothing to be seen or smelled. The waiter bowed down near his ears and said in a low tone.

"Please wait to open the plate; the chef would like the reveal to be joint."

Jakub nodded as the waiter continued with his coworkers around the table to serve. On the left side of the ear, though, he could hear Benedict talk in an equally lowered tone. "I suppose that you are familiar with Stanislav, Mr Wozniak?"

"Well, considering that I am involved in Brest quite a lot, it's hard to not be familiar with his name. I'm surprised I'm even sitting at the same table."

"Surprised about him? Didn't you notice the patriarch opposite Amadeo?." Benedict responded. There's a patriarch here too?! I thought they were just buddies with Amadeo?

Jakub turned his face towards the clung of black-clothed men as he pouted his lips.

"Of course I know… which one?"

Benedict shook his head whilst a smile appeared under the moustache.

"White-flappet hat, Matviy Konstantin. Patriarch of Ukraine."

In the middle of the four orthodox priests was the patriarch himself. He looked to be the oldest person in the room; his beard was white, his wrinkly skin had dots of decay, eye-whites were slightly yellow, but it was his demeanour that really captured his essence. Hunched in his large pitch-black robe with a white hat that continued down his shoulders like a scarf. Stern and condemning as he had been wronged throughout his life.

This evening is full of surprises.

Cling, cling, cling! Amadeo was yet again standing up as everyone now had a cloche-covered plate in front of them. People were peaking extra at the hosting priest like children before Christmas.

"Beloved guests, I'm sorry for the wait. But the food is finally here and served. Now I see that everyone has gotten a chance to get acquainted with guests around the table. You in perticular Klossner." Amadeo said while smiling innocently towards Hans and Stanislav. A light laughter followed from the guests.

"Now then on my signal, I want you all the open the plates."

Yuri looked towards Jakub with a profound smile.

"But before that, let's share a prayer."

The smile on Yuri's turned into a frown whilst Jakub's dimples lifted at the reaction.

People around the table looked at it each other as one after the other closed their eyes. The host's company were quick to fold their hands and bow down their heads, followed were the orthodox priests, with Yuri rolling his eyes back. And soon Jakub himself closed his own. Ignoring the peaking game, everyone else was performing at each other. It was dark. He closed his hands beneath the table. Listening to the surroundings around him. The tactful, intense and yet short Fantaisie-Impromptu ended abruptly as the room fell quiet. Pictures appeared before Jakub as he thought of home, vivid and depictive. He saw his mother cooking, his daughter Julia laughing and his wife Zofia next to him on the bed, those beautiful big brown eyes as a smile shined, a smile which his daughter had gotten from her. The priest chose to not recite anything but to let everyone else say their prayer in solitude. Dear heavenly Father. Thank you for protecting my family from all hardships in the world. I want to thank you for every day that my daughter gets to grow up and experience life. I want to thank you for still keeping my mother in good health. I want to thank you for giving my wife the strength to keep it all together. I plead to you to give Zofia further strength when I'm not there to comfort her, I plead you give my mother her best years still, and I plead you to let my daughter be an equally if not even better woman than the ones that raise her. Amen.

Jakub opened his eyes again to see that everyone kept their eyes closed. One orthodox priest moved his mouth and silently talked, while another man looked bored as if they had better things to do, others looked bothered, and others looked deep in their thoughts. He looked towards Amadeo, who stared at him right back. It made Jakub uneasy initially, not knowing whether he should look away or close his eyes and go back to praying. Instead, he kept eye contact as the priest calmly looked at him, smiled and nodded.

"Amen." Amadeo said. As everyone opened their eyes simultaneously, Amadeo maintained eye contact with Jakub, before releasing the grip and hovering with the eyes back to the general crowd.

"Please, dig in and enjoy the meal. I present to you the Canederli!" With that last phrase said, curious and excitedly, Jakub placed his hand on the cloche. As metal clangs were heard, he pulled off the cloche to reveal the food. The smell of onions, pastry and eggs steamed to his nostrils.

"Oh." The audible comment was heard by Yuri as he looked down on what was not a plate, as he had thought, but rather a bowl. Jakub continued to glance over the awaited meal. Oh…

In his bowl was a watery orange soup, and in the middle was a giant ball shifting from beige to grey. The texture was uneven, like a meatball, but it looked like it was made of soggy bread mixed with whatever could be found in the pantry. However, the tiny bits of green pastry floating around did make it somewhat inviting. As he looked up, he was analysing if he and Yuri were the only ones who found the meal…Disappointing. The looks were mixed; Benedict didn't look impressed but took up a spoon to begin carving out a piece. One of the Orthodox priests, with a hat large and seemingly larger mouth, opened it.

"So, is this the starter?"

Amadeo looked surprised but smiled politely as if he knew what was on some people's minds.

"No, this is the main course."

The man in the red tuxedo who had commented on the music stated.

"Well, it's an interesting choice, but it's definitely a local cuisine. Considering that we are in the Südtyrol."

Yuri's eyes were twitching a bit as he picked up the spoon with a tense grip and began rolling the ball around in the soup. On the other hand, Hans carved a large chunk from the pale ball and without hesitating, he took the 'dumpling' in his mouth with a warm smile.

"Oh, these are indeed tasty! I zidn't know zat they had Knödels in Italy too!"

A minority seemed pleased about the choice, whilst others like Jakub were showing their poker face whilst another minority had frowns and sour looks, which even the Patriarch of Ukraine shared. Although the food seemed befitting for a very elderly person…

Yuri could finally not keep his mouth shut as his jaws looked considerably tensed.

"I'm sorry, but I thought that we would have Italian food on the menu, considering that we are in Italy."

A sudden cough could be heard as Benedict picked up a tissue from his pocket and brought it to his mouth. In a subtle action, Benedict spat out the mouthful of Canederli into the paper and placed it next to himself.

"Well, it certainly is Italian. However, what Mr Lehmann was referring to is that this region once used to belong to Austria-Hungary, which is explaining the Germanic culture shock."

"So… this is Kraut-food?"

Don't say that next to the Kraut!?!

"Ooohhh, I agree. Zis could have needed some Sauerkraut on ze side along with some pork."

Eager in his scooping, bliss and ignorance, Hans missed the insult. Suddenly without any further words, the sound of a chair scraping along the floor echoed once again throughout the room as Yuri stood up and began walking away. The pianist, about to begin a new symphony, got a warning headshake from a waiter on the other side of the corner. You fucking moron, please cause a larger scene, will you?!

The sound of footsteps and Yuri mumbling Belarusian swearwords was all that was heard as the other guests fell quiet, along with the pianist removing his hands from the instrument. Jakub could not dare look towards his comrade as the footsteps faded away; he simply sunk deeper into his chair while staring deeply into that damned Canederli before him. The silence became like fog, thick and hard to break, as everyone simply placed their spoons and silently ate their food. For fuckssake, I barely belong in this crowd, to begin with, and now he acts like a bratty teenager too fancy to eat?! The sound of spoons hitting porcelain was loud in the silence of people not daring to comment on what happened. Well, that was until a loud scoff could be heard in the direction towards the entrance. It was an orthodox priest who had earlier asked about the main course. His stature among his fellows was more present, though he was a large man, with a larger mouth revealing teeth with unflattering gaps in between.

"Well, what can you expect from a Belarusian?" the man mumbled, finally breaking the silence. Following his own comment was boisterous laughter that made his entire chest move accordingly.

"Ho-ho-ho, first, we have no Russians attending, and now we have their bitch made hounds leaving." He continued to laugh as another of his colleagues began smirking and joining in the laughing like a Gregorian chant. Some of Amadeo's own priests nervously chuckled, sitting next to them. Others around the table nervously exchanged looks, not knowing how to react. The old Patriarch Matviy sat in the middle, not laughing, like a statue, not changing his sour face in the midst of it. In the vicinity of the eye, he could see a face he was too afraid to look at, an active volcano about to let off at any moment's notice.

"Could you really expect Russian dogs to sit?" The laughter this time seemed more at ease and relaxed as they continued; perhaps it was the knowngprovocation that increased the fun of it as the large orthodox eyes began to water.

"Perhaps we should bring dog bones for the sore Belarusian next time he sits with adults." Fuckers.

"Niaŭžo tak staviacca da brata na kryžy?!" The words were sharp, Jakub dotted with his eyes towards the speaker as he saw Stanislav with a tightened fist. The laughing stopped immediately as the large priest soured his face.

"Huh? Is there another Belarusian speaking? I thought it was Stanislav that had walked away?"

"Those flaps around your eyes wouldn't block your view if you weren't so fat." Stanislav responded quickly, making the face of the spouting priest turn red.

Jakub took another sip of his sparkling wine. I need stronger stuff. The entertainment just started.

"Well!? Did the cat steal your tongue?! Or do you only speak behind backs?" Sweat pearls formed on the large priest's forehead as he was about to say something before being interrupted.

"And where is your owner Archipov? Are you eager to bark for the generals that continue to hide in Kreml? Where is Mikhailov, Vasiliev, Zaitsev and Babanin?" The words were raspy, like an old branch. The patriarch Matviy had spoken up; he had kept his face the same the whole time. Taking up Stanislav's challenge, he met the ice-blue dagger eyes with yellow and artery-filled eyes of his own.

"It's been very quiet the past months Archipov, are the oppressors busy with a taste of their own medicine?"

Jakub coughed audibly without thinking it through or even consenting to the action. The priest pointed his glaring yellow eyes towards him, bringing everyone's attention towards Jakub. Well, shit, what now?

He looked around at the faces for a second, observing the curiosity, anxiety and resentment towards him as everyone looked at him besides Stanislav, who still had his eyes pierced on Matviy. Perhaps I should apologize, make sure things don't turn uglier than it already is.

"The Belarusian was with me, so perhaps…." No… choose your words carefully now…

"Perhaps, the blame is with me… I want to apologise for-"

"If I may interrupt!"

Oh, for fuckssake, not now. From the depths of the bowl of Canederli, Hans rose up, letting the chair screech its song against the floor.

"My name is Hans Klossner. I am the Reich Kansler Otto von Niedersachsen Klossner's younger brother."

Read the room.

"Right, So as a diplomat of ze Sachen Statt. It seems that tensions are quite high." He continued while giggling in the room of confused looks and silence.

"And I'm not here to make enemies. So, first of all, I would like to apologise to General Stanislav for my behaviour earlier. Second off a-"

"Eh? Why are you speaking now?" Matviy finally said, having lost momentum and interest in the confrontation against Stanislav.

"Is it not past your bedtime kraut?"

Han's licked his lips and tightened a fist.

"As I was saying… we should look to make allies, because zat's why we are here right? So Stanislav Arch-"

"Oh, is that why we are here, Klossner? It's funny that you expect an alliance with an old patriot of the union." Looks were tossed across the table, whispers, as an imaginery stage light was pointed at Stanislav.

"I don't think Stanislav is keen on allying with Krauts." Matviy continued for the first time with a grin on his face, exposing his yellow teeth whilst making Hans lost in his pre-meditated speech. Stanislav didn't utter a word through the exchange, keeping his eyes locked on the old priest, who seemed to have lost interest.

"Considering, that it's still up to debate; who has spilt more Soviet blood? Demons or Germans? I can't imagine Stanislav allying with a kraut's ambition of power." It appeared like Matviy struck a nerve as Hans suddenly banged his fist on Bulgaria.

"I have not come all ze way from Hannover to be insulted and mocked by half of eastern Europe!"

"Well then, perhaps you should leave, 'cause that's what I'm going to do!" Matviy hissed back. Benedict suddenly rose up from his chair before more could be said and glasses could be thrown.

"Gentlemen! This is unbefitting behaviour for your stature! We have all made gruelling long journeys, and I'll be damned if it was all for you three to squabble like teenagers." The firm voice Jakub had heard before remained firm and even commanding like a scolding father. One man wearing a blue suit spoke with an accent thick yet neither Slavic nor Germanic.

"The Englishman is right. We should call it a night. This journey has cost taxed money. For what? in the hopes of diplomacy? This was a waste of time. "

The man in a red tuxedo who had earlier spoken also rose up.

"Everyone calm down, the Canederli was a miss on the host, but there is no reason to call it all off on an empty stomach!" More people began to rise, and the sound of men beginning to squeal and bicker filled the air as chairs screeched left and right around the table.

Amadeo had finally dropped his gaze from the floating bread ball in his bowl and looked with empty eyes towards Matviy.

Stanislav finally released his stare and mumbled something before taking the sparkling wine to his mouth.

"So what is this all about? Is this yet another devious plot to weave catholic influence into your already Christian brothers?" Matviy continued in the commotion that occurred.

Suddenly a loud banging could be heard against the table, making everyone disperse their speech as it called for silence, which it was granted.

"Perhaps, it is time that you finally reveal why we really are here, Amadeo?" Stanislav rumbled with a voice equal to a growl; the words had been spoken as if they had ascended from a mountainous cave. With the voice echoing through the room, it was after its last bounce on the wall that the sound of a bell could be heard, a deep, vibrating yet soft sound of a bell echoing in the dale outside. One loud clang it was. Everything fell quiet as Amadeo finally looked ready to speak. Tired as almost everyone else at the pretending politeness that had been happening for hours.

"The clock sounds midnight, and perhaps it is time to share the alarming news with you."

It seemed as if every rebellious intent had finally been strangled as everyone now in silence sat down. The pianist had since long sat awkwardly in the corner, watching men in power bicker, now seeing them in awe as they waited for an answer. Benedict had been observing through the exchanges, trying to puzzle together every spoken word tonight. He had his eyebrows raised and ears sharpened. Finally, getting the answer to the long-awaited question. Why?

Amadeo looked around. His pleased smile had long faded away, showing a face of embitterment at the guests. Not devolved from anger but disappointment as the bell echoed in the silence outside.

"They say that the world is ending. And well, they have been saying it for a long while now; we are, after all, on the eighth year of this conflict."

The sound of the bell began fading out, leaving a coldness that had not been felt before throughout the evening. Causing unease as he saw how more of the guests adjusted their seating after the sentence.

"About two weeks ago, we heard the news from the far east. A scary development that can no longer be pushed aside. As it proves that gunpowder could not contain what advances west…."

A quick look revealed that no one, was longer smug, amused or too clever when the sentence was spoken. Not a grin nor a smile as if the game was over. The armour was dropped.

"The city of Jaroslav has fallen."