Four days had passed, and as was expected by Lev, the Grand Duke had kept his Royal Guard confined to the chateau. Apart from the intricately trimmed shrubbery, the lavish garden situated outside was otherwise empty and devoid of patrolling guards. Instead, all abled bodies had been ordered to occupy the numerous intertwining hallways. Conversely, in his state of paranoia the Grand Duke remained adamant in his refusal to leave his Great Hall; favoring instead to remain seated upon his throne, with countless guards dispersed throughout the room. Accordingly, the responsibility of defending the chateau had largely fallen upon Count Vasiliev.
Kostya also remained present within the chateau, with he and his unit being stationed near the main entrance. That is, leading into the palace was an oak door so grand that it typically required two men to heave open. Accordingly, as to receive messengers, Kostya and his retinue had been ordered to occupy positions on either side of the door; two on the outside standing at either side of the door, and the rest standing guard on the inside. Due to the uneventfulness of the past few days, Kostya and his men usually sat bored on the spiraling staircasing or leaning against the smooth stone walls. That is, until the introduction of foreign footsteps would prompt them to immediately adjust their posture and snap their heels together.
Such an event had occurred just moment prior, as from outside the safety of the palace walls fast paced footsteps could be heard hurrying towards the fortified building. Following a series of back-and-forth mummering beyond the grand door, Kostya called his men to arise as the outside guards heaved against the heavy oak. Upon opening, the figure to which belonged the hurried footsteps continued onwards into the building.
"Where the fuck do you think you're going?" demanded one guard, aiming his spear horizontally in a defensive manner. The mysterious stranger was no peasant. Instead, his clothing – covered by a sheepskin cloak – was clean, insinuating the hurrying figure was a household servant.
"I bring a message from my Lord… for the Grand Duke!" he instantaneously barked. This was not the first time someone dressed as a servant had come bearing such news. Accordingly, Kostya signaled for his men to lower their spears, nodded in approval to the figure, and pointed him in the direction of the Great Hall.
Upon reaching the abode of His Majesty, the figure came to a halt. His final step echoed throughout the intertwined hallways, which remained absent of scurrying courtiers and servants. Instead, the aura was domineered by a lingering silence. A guard was stood outside, and after darting his eyes and assessing the strangers' characteristics, he heaved open the door. Nodding in thanks to the stationary soldier, he the message bearer entered; his hands shaking and his breathing heavy from both the arduous journey and the message he bore.
"Your Majesty" he decreed, entering the room and approaching the throne, "A mob of slaves and peasants approaches my Lords estate… he nee-"
Before he could finish, Count Vasiliev – who was stood alongside the Grand Duke – rose his finger and demanded silence. Present also were other courtiers and members of the camarilla, who spent most of their days during such dire times seeking comfort from their ruler.
"We know" the Count stated blatantly, "You are the fifth messenger to bring us such news"
Ignoring the panicked servant, the Count nonchalantly turned towards the Grand Duke. The messenger stood confused, his eyes darting between the murmuring courtiers.
"Your Majesty" Vasiliev said in a calm and calculated tone, "This Lev… he is smarter than we first thought. He did not attack us directly as was presumed… rather, he seems to be diverting his attention elsewhere, recruiting for his army and demolishing the estates as he waits for us to engage him in open battle… it is an impossible situation, for if we wait his forces will only expand and eventually lay waste to our comparatively weaker defenses, or we deploy the Royal Guard and risk leaving Your highness alone and unguarded".
"What do you mean 'we', this is all your fault!" boomed the Grand Duke, his pudgy hand slamming powerfully into the armrest. The only means of calming him down was Yuliya, who turning to the red-faced ruler gave him a seductive glance. Eventually, he relented.
"I beg of you… fix this situation" he relented, resigned submissively into his throne.
"Worry not, Your Majesty. News of this little uprising has not yet reached the urban hubs… you have many abodes within these cities. It would almost be akin to a vacation… whilst you relax in one of your urban abodes – I suggest in the capital – I will take the Royal Guard and behead this pitiful peasant movement" the Count replied. Hiding beneath his conniving grin was a sense of embarrassment, for he had genuinely not predicted Lev to be both cunning and competent. Behind his confident tone there was also an overwhelming sense of stress, as from what his scouts had been reporting, in collaboration with words spoken by the panicked messengers belonging to the sacked estates, the situation was as follows:
By now, it was clear that the rural countryside was in a complete state of panic and unrest. That is, one-by-one estates were being demolished, with their owners massacred, their occupants exiled into squalor, and the contents of these luxurious manors ravished and pillaged. Moreover, even in concurrently unaffected villages, news of a purported 'Young Captain' leading a liberating army had been spreading throughout Kolva; with his rumored exploits and planned objectives further radicalizing the rural populace. Indeed, the Counts last hope was that he could quell this uprising before the urban hubs learnt of what was happening.
"Father… are you ok?" Yuliya spoke, twirling her long hair between her fingers as she spoke. She seemed completely oblivious to the true gravity of the situation. Vasiliev blinked, snapping out of his dazed state.
"Yes… yes, everything is alright" he followed up, uncharacteristically stumbling over his words.
"Well… I was thinking of accompanying His Majesty… Afterall, you are to march out with your forces, and the palace will be empty" Yuliya said. Struggling to regain his steely confidence, the Count could not exert a verbal response, and as such provided only a nod. Letting out a cough to clear his through, he continued:
"Yes… in fact, all courtiers currently present should go with His Majesty. I must march out as soon as possible… I will begin assembling the men at once".
"Very well… I shall vacation at my property in the capital whilst you sort out this inconvenience" the now calmed ruler proclaimed.
With that, the County bowed his head, turned, and make a graceful exit with his head held high and his feigned steely persona intact. Meanwhile, the courtiers looked at one another in confusion, before all collectively glancing towards the Grand Duke. With a nod of his head, and the approving wave of his hand, they then all began darting out of the Great Hall, headed to their respective living quarters, and began packing for the journey to the capital.
Approaching Kostya, a fellow Sergeant of the Royal Guard made his way down the smooth spiraling stairs. Snapping to attention, Kostya approached the officer.
"The Count has ordered all men to assemble in the courtyard… apparently he wants to face those marauding peasants directly" he spoke rather informally. Regardless, Kostya responded with a salute before swiftly turning to his men. He tried to remain apolitical when relaying this order to his men, which he achieved through his deadpan, emotionless delivery. Yet, from the corner of his lips blossomed a smirk.
[So, Lev…. You really did go through with your supposed 'sacred duty']