Jaroslav III

The room was dead silent; an exchange of looks was carried amongst them. One of the orthodox priests began mumbling something whilst closing his eyes. Jakub, although not active in the eastern front, had heard about the city in talks and folk mouth during his time in Brest.

"For far too long, the threat of the demons has been a parenthesis for many of us. A problem that can be dealt with later as we seek unification. We don't have eight more years to solve who should lead Germany, Poland, Russia or even Italy for that matter. The time is nigh."

It felt like a stone had been placed on Jakub's chest. Breathing became uncomfortable as he reached for the sparkling wine to swallow down the imaginary crux that had blocked his throat.

"You knew?" Matviy said, looking at Stanislav with eyes new as the battleaxe had been buried. Stanislav nodded, silently agreeing to settle down the feud.

"Nine days the city held until the last artillery piece had trumped its last roar. You lost an equal that day."

Matviy swallowed as he stared with his old yellow eyes at the table, empty. The room was left for silence, a silent minute. Some looked bothered; some had looks of cold sweat, and others had faces unclear to read as they sat in silence. Until. Han's let out a cough.

"I don't wanna zeem rude, but why is everyone overreacting? Haven't hundreds of cities and villages already fallen in Russia? What is so special about zis one?" Hans said.

"Location." A voice said. A pair of darkened eyes stared upon Hans, like the demons that they all feared. The eyes belonged to a man with a bald head and olive skin. Those intensive eyes had rings around them from plenty of nights awake. He wore the white robe, carrying a silver necklace with the cross on it. An order man with the signature cross tattooed onto his forehead, only two seats to the left of Amadeo.

"Jaroslav, a city welded on the Volga river. What was once a home for over half a million men, women and children." The bald man said as he silently got up from his seat. It was unclear to Jakub how long that man had been there or how old this man was, but he looked still capable as it was revealed that he carried a sword on his hip, unclear if it was ceremonial. He began to walk around the table slowly as his feet tapped against the marble floor.

"Tell me Klossner. How much do you know of Satan's belt?" The man said, walking up to Hans's back and stopping right behind him.

"Satan's belt? Excuse me, who are you?" Hans responded. The man did not answer, before continuing his walk around the table. Silent, it was as each tap from his shoes echoed.

"Satan's belt refers to the line separating human-controlled territory from demon controlled." The man said, ignoring Hans's question.

"They thrived and accumulated in the regions of the world where the armies could not be, where the people were few. Because we were too busy dealing with the demons that rose in our cities, we forgot of Siberian wastelands, the dry earth of the Sahara and the seas of the many isolated islands. Quickly we warded them off where the fire could be seen. But quickly did we forget when the time for blame arrived."

The bald priest finally stopped, back to where he had been seated from the beginning, yet he did not sit down. Instead, he stood there silent for a second. He suddenly drew his sword, glistering from the shine of the chandelier. He observed the blade for a second as the crowd watched him. Enchanted by where he was going with the monologue. He broke the glare on his sword and pointed it at the table, right on the city itself. Jaroslav, it said. And there it was on the table, right on the Volga River that stretched many kilometres.

"The Kreml, barely being able to put out any fires within its own country, saw the entire east enveloped by the demons creeping west, taking out village after village, town after town, and region after region. So they did perhaps the only thing that could be done. They used the Volga to keep the Demons out."

He began moving the sword tip down from Jaroslav, following the river down to the Caspian Sea.

"Which is why we have the situation that we have today. From the most southern point of the Kazhak desert steppes, the river stretches far north, a fickle wall of streaming water that reaches all the way to the Rybinski Lake." He began to move the sword tip along the river. Gently, as it trailed north.

"Volgograd, Saratov, Uljanovsk, Kazan, Novgorod and finally Jaroslav." The man stopped at the city, and raised the tip of his sword, before drumming down at it with a poke that startled a Hungarian close to the city.

"Afterwards, creating the armed trenches between the Rybinski and Sankt Petersburg."

The man looked up with eyes of judgement again towards Hans.

"From this controllable point, the belt gets more violent as it leaves Karelia in the demon's control, creating the northern front." The sword tip moved hastily towards the Finnish border.

"They have surely but slowly pushed out all the Finns. Although stubborn in the regions near Helsinki connected to Sankt Petersburg and Stockholm."

He continued with the sword tip to the top of the Baltic Sea.

"And where the climate is harsh, and food is rare for armies to move, the demons have spilt over into the rest of Scandinavia. Creating a new colony of Demons. Pushing south through the dark tundra of Lappland all the way to Ostersund, tangling in the fjords of Norway to Trondheim. Creating a no man's land between the Scandinavians and Demons all the way down to Mora."

The bald order man finally removed the sword tip that was laid halfway through Sweden and Norway. He then eased his eyes on Hans before opening his mouth Again.

"Giuseppe Morelli, demonolgist of the Vatican. I hope all your questions were answered, Hans, along with all the other guests." A silence fell as Hans quietly sat there dumbfounded about the explanation before the man in a red tuxedo opened his mouth.

"I appreciate that you have explained the situation, Giuseppe…" The order man nodded accordingly.

"…But the real question is why we are the ones addressed of the problem, and of course, what the pope's own response is. He might have influence in western Europe, but what can he do to convince the Kremlin?"

The man in the red tuxedo looked with sharpened yet curious eyes towards Amadeo as he caressed his own chin. Amadeo held his head high for what he was about to say.

"The pope will address the issue at a later date. This was, in fact, my own action taken."

What? Why hasn't the Pope done anything yet?

As if his mind had been read out loud, Benedict repeated it.

"And what is the reason for not addressing such urgent news?" Benedict stated with a frustrated sigh.

"When the pope takes an active role in politics or urges a country to take action. He only manages to divide the continent further. Why would he bother now?" Hans chipped in on the other side of Jakub.

"Because it's urgent." Stanislav said with a boisterous voice.

"This is not just a Russian problem." Stanislav pointed to the map again, aimed at Jaroslav.

"Jaroslav happens to lay directly northeast of Moscow. Meaning…"

"…Meaning that the enemy has a direct shot at Moscow…" Matviy ended with a tired voice matching the state of his yellow eyes.

Another of the orthodox priests next to Matviy continued.

"If the enemy were to strike Moscow, the defence would collapse. The eastern front would move further west."

Giuseppe nodded in silence, placing his hands behind his back.

"Moscow is the head of the snake that has been holding them back. If the unconquered city were to be conquered. It could only be a matter of months before they cross the European plain." Giuseppe ended.

Amadeo took a deep breath before releasing it again.

"The news will spread throughout Europe. That's the only promise the pope has given me. The only thing I can do to help the world around me is to assemble the men that can make change without diplomatic repercussio-."

The faint sound of footsteps was heard, stopping Amadeo in his speech.

"le carte sono rubate! Chiama le guardie, nessuno può lasciare la città."

The distant voice of an Italian man shouting was heard as rask footsteps echoed on the marble staircase down the entrance.

"le carte sono rubate! le carte sono rubate!"

Heads were turning towards the entrance to see who was shouting near the door entrance. Amadeo raised himself from the chair with an expression of fear when hearing those words.

"LE CARTE SONO RUBATE!" a young man shouted, wearing the white robe; his hair was wet as it was glancing from sweat pearls formed on his skin red. Breathing heavily, he ignored everyone's gaze at the tables and locked eyes with Amadeo on the other side of the room.

"le carte sono rubate! Chiama le guardie, nessuno può lasciare la città!"

Amadeo swallowed in shock as he looked around with wide-open eyes and a mouth heaving in the air like the man that had barged in.

"I-I'm sorry for this abrupt ending of the night…" He looked to the floor and then back up again towards the guests.

"But I have something I must attend to." Without saying anything further, Amadeo looked at Giuseppe, who shared the shock. Amadeo began to swiftly leave the meeting room with a few of the guarding order men soon following, leaving the guests confused at what had happened. Jakub turned to Benedict, who shared the concerned look. Has a demon entered the building? What is happening?

The looks were all shared as some people shrugged their shoulders around the table until the man in a red tuxedo said something with a confused yet unbothered facial expression.

"The papers are stolen… I wonder what that could be all about."