The Last Romanov (Under Editing)

Final Preparations

Sasha woke up that morning to bright sunlight streaming into the room and Paskha sitting on his chest. The cat was awake at that point: she stared at the door intently, her tail flicking back and forth. He could hear people walking and moving around outside his room. Fyodor and Lyubova, he decided: it sounded like somebody was cooking, and that Fyodor was chatting up some guests.

He sat up and scratched the back of his head, making Paskha meow loudly in disdain and jump off of the bed. What the hell was with those two? What sort of pub opened at nine in the morning and was closed by nine at night? Were they not aware of how bars worked?

Well, Lyubova might not: according to the conversation he and Fyodor had had the previous night, she didn't much enjoy drinking. Or the thought of her husband drinking. And judging by the decor of the room Sasha had been staying in, she was a bit of a prude: there were icons everywhere. And he meant everywhere. He felt as if all the saints were watching him sleep, dress, undress. He guessed that that was somehow comforting to people who were religious, but to him, it was just creepy. He felt like he couldn't avoid those eyes, no matter where he went, and he always felt like he was doing something wrong, even when he was just sitting on the bed, reading.

So, he pulled on his clothes and went out to the bar for breakfast.

Fyodor and Lyubova were standing at the bar, entertaining their new guests. Both of them were older, and both had the same, gnarled look on their faces as Fyodor did. He had the feeling that they were buddies of Fyodor's. Especially judging by the annoyed look on Lyubova's face and the smirk on Fyodor's. Lyubova was cooking some sort of meat product (at least, that's how it smelled), while Fyodor was pouring drinks for the men sitting at the bar.

They looked up at Sasha when he walked out into the bar.

"This that kid?" One of them gruffed.

Sasha raised an eyebrow as he plopped down on one of the bar stools. "Depends on what you mean by 'that kid'."

"The three of us were just having a bit of a chat about what you're up to, down here," Fyodor said, as if it weren't a big deal. "Hope you don't mind."

"What the hell do you mean, you've been chatting about what I'm doing?" Sasha asked, more than a little horrified. Had Arttüri not realized just how much secrecy was needed? "Didn't anybody tell you that these sorts of things require a measure of discretion?"

"Don't worry about the two of us, kiddo," the other man said with a dismissive flick of his wrist. "We don't exactly enjoy the Czarina, ourselves. We think you're doing a great thing, here."

"Thanks," Sasha muttered. He looked up at Fyodor. "A beer, if you would."

"Not without something in your stomach, you don't," Lyubova said, setting a bowl in front of him. "Eat that, and you can have a beer."

"Come now, Lyubova," one of the men said. "Who are you, his mother? Give the damn man a beer!"

"Not much of a man," the other one grumbled. "You even old enough to shave, boy?"

Sasha rubbed his chin. "You young enough to still have hair?"

The other man just about had beer come out from his nose.

"Watch it: just because you're a kid doesn't mean I won't deck you," the man warned.

"Same here," Sasha said.

The other older man began to chuckle. "I like this one, Fyodor: you ought to keep him around."

"Depends on how things go today," Fyodor said. "You all set?"

"First of all, I'm pretty sure that I'm not supposed to tell you sensitive information like that, and Arttüri definitely wasn't, either," Sasha said. "Second of all... I think I am. As ready as I'll ever be, anyway."

"Good," Fyodor said as Lyubova set some food down for Sasha. "Now, you'd better eat up: today's the day you meet your destiny."

Suddenly, Sasha wasn't all that hungry.

***

That morning in the church was quiet. Maria was gone, going about her day as if she didn't know what was about to happen. Virtanen had shown up right about the time Nadezhda and Nadya were waking up, about an hour before the morning mass. They hardly spoke. They couldn't even seem to look each other in the eye.

"The ship gets in in two hours," Virtanen said. "Will you be ready for that?"

Nadezhda nodded.

"Where is Zelenko going to be?" Nadya asked.

"He'll be coming out from Peter and Paul right about the time the ship arrives," Virtanen said. "Remember: don't start-"

"Until exactly nine o'clock," Nadezhda and Nadya said in unison.

"We know," Nadezhda promised. "Both of us have our watches synched: we'll be fine."

I hope.

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Hello, everyone, and happy Tuesday! I hope all of you have been having a good day, so far.

So, just some quick housekeeping items for the day. Since this chapter was pretty short, you guys will be getting another chapter later on today, which is also when I'll be doing the dedication. 

Be sure to vote and comment, and we'll see you guys later on today with another exciting chapter of "The Last Romanov" :D