Braving the wind and snow mixed with ice chips, several people cloaked in black capes entered the tavern, the leader among them removed her soft black velvet hood, revealing a face filled with authority and beauty.
"Who is Simolov?" she asked.
"I... I am..."
Simolov stepped forward stiffly, feeling as though his legs were no longer under his control, bowing his head, and not daring to look directly into the deep blue eyes that were looking towards him.
"I need thirty fast horses, ready in an hour."
Facing the undeniable tone, Simolov shivered and stammered, "Your Highness... there are... there are no fast horses in the town, only some small-footed horses used for hauling wood carts, and there are only about a dozen..."
Katerina looked at him and suddenly asked, "Why are you trembling? Is your clothing too thin, not enough to shield you from the cold wind?"
Thump!
Simolov fell to one knee, trembling as he said, "No! I... I am just afraid..."
