With an absence of sunlight in his damp cell, Lev could only estimate – via employing the circadian cycle – that one day had passed since his first confrontation with the Grand Duke. Left alone as was promised, the imprisoned officer had spent this time in deep contemplation, thinking mainly of his immediate future and all the possible outcomes given his circumstances. Provided the absurdity of his situation, in tandem with the realization that returning home was impossible, this period of reflection had made him rather pessimistic. He was without purpose, trapped in a world encapsulated with rampant corruption and inconsolable class disparities. If this were indeed the afterlife, it would be most comparable to hell. At least, this was in Levs opinion.
Using his greatcoat as a blanket and his ushanka as a pillow, getting a full night of sleep has been an impossible feat. Additionally, his mental psyche by this point was also in the early stages of depleting: which, if not solely for the fact that his situation was completely irrational and hopeless, could also be attributed to the fact that he had been accompanied throughout the night by a constant dripping of water from the ceiling. Indeed, he had probably spent more time counting the droplets as they hit the floor that he did getting rest.
Engrossed in his thoughts and taken aback from the physical world, Lev's neck snapped to attention as he suddenly heard the cell door creaking eerily open. Because of his eyesight adapting to the darkness, the entrance of sunlight caused a great extent of sensitivity; hence causing the weary and worn prisoner to avert his gaze elsewhere. Though, upon turning his head back out of curiosity, he was met with the now familiar faces of Kostya and his retinue.
"Apologies Senior Lieutenant…" said the Sergeant, pausing after noticing the impact of his sudden entry. Stand at ease, he continued:
"On the deliberations of His Majesty, we are here to announce that you will meet immediately with the Royal Court… they are to assess the validity of your claims".
Finishing his rehearsed statement, Kostya signaled forth a soldier to help Lev stand. He then signaled forth another to straighten Lev's tunic, adjust his ushanka, and pat down his greatcoat.
"Usually for such a meeting you would be bathed and redressed… but the Grand Duke has specifically ordered that you appear before the Court as you are now"
[The indignity of that pudgy bastard...]
In realizing and combating the Grand Dukes' intentional maneuvering, the imprisoned officer shoved away the adjacent soldiers, straightened his posture, and patted down his clothing himself. Using the back of his hand, he next brushed away the accumulated dirt and dust from both his face and clothing.
As he was led through the interweaving hallways that led to the Great Hall, Lev continued fixing his appearance. That is, he straightened his collar, aligned the cuffs on his greatcoat, and adjusted the numerous decorative badges pinned to his chest. Removing his ushanka, he then used the naturally formed grease to slick back his voluminous black hair.
Approaching the Great Hall, the aura was completely different. That is, whilst during his last visit the room was empty and as such echoey, Lev this time could hear the load murmuring and laughter of numerous voices concealed behind the grand oak door, chatting amongst one another, was a large contingent of courtiers.
"Watch out in there… these people will interrogate you like a hungry pack of wolves. Although only half hold meaningful occupations, they are all united in the influence they have over His Majesty" Kostya cautioned, before stepping forwards and opening the grand oak door.
Suddenly the room fell silent, and within seconds Lev was met with the glances of what felt like hundreds of darting eyes; though realistically the courtier's numbered no more than ten. They were stood around the Grand Duke, who being confined by his weight remained seated upon his throne. Entering the room, Kostya guided the prisoner towards the figures.
"So, this is the charlatan…" proclaimed one of the courtiers. The voice belonged to the vocal middle-aged Count Vasiliev – a decorated General, statesman, and head of the Royal Guard. Regarding clothing, he wore trousers, a blue surcoat with the imperial eagle stamped centrally on the chest, a blue fur-lined cloak bearing gold embroiling, and a sparkling silver sword that hung from his brown leather belt. As he spoke, Lev noticed a look of disgust upon Kostya's face.
"He could look worse" sighed the voice belonging to Count Vasiliev's daughter, Yuliya. She wore a narrow, long-sleeved tunic, which was embroiled with gold lacing and was fastened at the neck with a gold broach. Securing the tunic and highlighting her natural curves was a girdle tied tightly around the waist. Her long blond hair, which ought to be covered by a veil or wimple, instead remained uncovered and draped towards the tailbone. For a moment breaking his steely aura, Lev was entranced by the exerted beauty of her figure. As she spoke, the Grand Duke's gaze averted towards Yuliya, his facial expressions exerting disapproval. Yuliya looked back, giving a smirk to the seated ruler.
[Don't tell me they are together…. Ugh, I can't be bothered understanding the Court intrigues]
"Senior Lieutenant Lev Sorokin, Deputy fo-" snapping to attention, Lev was suddenly cup off by the Count.
"We know… His Majesty has called on us to validate your claims, so skip to the part regarding your purported land"
[Judging the manner of his tone, he's already made up his mind…]
"As I have stated before, I am from the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics" Lev followed up, matching the Count with a rather snarky tone. In response, the courtiers began to snicker amongst themselves.
"Such a place does not exist" added one of the Grand Duke's grinning lapdogs.
"Tell me of this land" Vasiliev interrupted with another snicker. It could be inferred with relative ease that the order was not derived from genuine interest, but out of mockery. Clearing his throat, Lev relented to the inquiry:
"As I said yesterday, we are a collective society in which all aspects of government, and indeed all institutions, are ruled by the toiling workers"
The response only added fuel to the fire. Having never heard of such a nation, nor having heard of such governmental practises, the snickering expressed by the courtiers had now turned to laughter. Lev was reaching a breaking point.
[These fucking fools! These no-goods, bourgeois lapdogs!]
His fists were clenched, his soul pained, and his heart filled to the brim with anger. Opening his mouth to speak once again, Yuliya interrupted:
"Perhaps he is mentally ill, Your majesty"
Metaphorically, the flood gates had opened. There was no reason to hold back, as regardless of honesty, the truthfulness of his claims had already been predetermined. As such, regardless of what was said going onwards, he would be doomed either way. After taking a moment to mentally prepare himself, Lev gave in and began his tirade.
"You know how we achieved such a society 'Your Majesty'? we tore down the insolent fools such as yourself… We stormed the royal abodes and put down all the cronies and nobles as if they were sick dogs! We established such a society not by negotiation, but by annihilating all the depraved, dirty, and dishonest jackals that for the longest time had oppressed the common toiling people!"
All fell silent. Aside from the Grand Duke and the courtiers, even Kostya was frozen with shock; not only at what Lev had said, but also because he knew with certainty that his prisoner had within the timespan of a minute condemned himself to death.
"Guards! Ta-" before he could finished, the Count interrupted with a conniving grin.
"Wait, Your Majesty. I know you want this fool dead, but may I suggest another alternative?" he said. The guards stood confused, not knowing if to follow the commands of their Grand Duke, or the Count.
"Go on…" the seated ruler relented. The guards stood at ease.
"Killing him would be a mercy given his egregious remarks… I propose instead that he be made a slave and sent to the ore mines. He'll die regardless, just my alternative supports a prolonged death, in which he will perish enslaved within the very system in which he despises"
"That sounds like the best option father" opined Yuliya.
"Very well… I like the sound of that. Guards, take this man to his cell… Vasiliev, have a carriage arranged to take away this treasonous charlatan, so that he may be transferred immediately to the ore mines" demanded the Grand Duke, smiling at the thought of such evil punishment.
[That Count and his daughter have the Grand Duke on a tight leash…]
With their orders confirmed, two guards moved in and grabbed Lev by his arms. Kostya and his retinue were still frozen with shock, but after being ordered by the Count to arrange the carriage and prisoner transfer on his behalf, they snapped out of their daze, awkwardly bowed their heads, and similarly exited the Great Hall.