The Romanov Diadem- Bluthund Community 4: Bluthund Community, #4

Prologue

AFTER MAKING CONTACT with the ground, the Austrian Airlines plane rolled the wide runway until it was positioned in front of one of the central doors. Once the turbines were stopped, the commander's voice was heard saying first in German and then in English.

Welcome to Vienna International Airport. Local time is 11:25 a.m. and the outside temperature of fifteen degrees Celsius....

The passengers filling the airplane, a motley mix of Americans, Austrians and other Europeans, and the usual number of Asians present on all international flights, began to stand up, wake up their children and collect suitcases, laptops, and other luggage from the upper compartments.

Sitting in the aisle seat, the red-haired young man stood up and stretched his long legs after the long flight, then offered his hand to his wife, who was sitting in the window seat.

"Dear, let me help you, I guess you are numb after the trip.

The lady, in obvious aristocratic ways, appreciated the help and stood next to her husband. He lowered the two suitcases that were in the open compartment while the line of passengers in front of them began to walk toward the exit.

Next time we will travel in first class, I can't stand this tightness. said the woman.

It is three times more expensive, I think it doesn't make sense on a basically night flight.

It is not so nocturnal, we arrived at eleven in the morning.

Because the hour difference. It is five hours later than in New York.

After crossing they walked up the Migrations area. There the young man asked his wife an unusual question.

"Which passport are you traveling with? Russian?

No. I have an Austrian passport. Don't forget that I was born precisely in Vienna.

Then stand in the preferential row to make it faster.

No, I prefer that we continue together.

After collecting their suitcases, they left the international zone and entered the spacious central hall of the airport, full of tourists, family members and business contacts.

You told me that one of your relatives is coming to meet us. Said the man. It was more a question than a statement.

Yes, my cousin Igor. You met him at our wedding. He is one of thirty relatives who traveled to New York from Europe. Don´t you remember him? He looks like you but fifteen years older. He is also a Fiodorov.

Impossible to remember each one of the hundred or more faces that we saw at the wedding.

At that moment a tall and elegantly dressed man approached them. He was indeed slim but not as thin as the young man and had also reddish hair. He approached with open arms and a wide and friendly smile. He spoke in English with the characteristic German accent.

Irina dear. Welcome to Vienna.

The two cousins held each other in a long hug; then the lady separated a bit from him even holding his arms to contemplate his cousin from a certain distance and said.

You look like when we were young, you have almost no gray hair and you have hardly gained weight.

Then she suddenly changed the subject and asked.

Do you remember my husband Thiago? I introduced you at the wedding.

The man replied with a nice laugh.

How can I not remember the young man who stole my favorite girlfriend?

Irina also joined in the laughter and explained to her husband.

In our childhood and early youth Igor and I fantasized about being boyfriends.

Come on, I have my car waiting in the parking lot. I'll drop you off at your hotel.

Throughout the journey in the luxurious BMW Thiago was dazzled by the daytime landscapes around Vienna as well as by the internal comfort of the car.

After a journey of almost an hour, Igor parked in front of an imposing building exponent of the European belle époque bearing the name of Hotel Imperial.

The bellboys rushed to carry the luggage consisting of four large Irina suitcases and one medium sized suitcase belonging to her husband. The woman and Igor approached the desk while Thiago looked at the luxurious central hall of the hotel. The veteran janitor at the desk immediately recognized Igor.

Good morning Herr Fiodorov.

"Good morning Franz. I personally made reservations on behalf of my cousin Irina Fiodorovna and her husband.

Here I have them Replied the employee. With the name of the Ferrari Fiodorov family. The room has been available for two hours.

Igor thanked the concierge and asked him to give an excellent service to the newcomers.

Please make their stay a total pleasure. My cousin Irina was born in Vienna and she has not visited us in a long time.

Then addressing the marriage he said to them.

I must now return to my work. Do not forget that I will pick you up at 7:30 pm to have dinner at home. Frau Fiodorov will be delighted to see you again.

At the indicated time, Igor arrived at the hotel and picked up the travelers, and after a short drive, parked in front of his house. Frederika Fiodorov was waiting for them in the vestibule carefully dressed.

Do you remember Frederika?  Irina asked her husband. She was present at our wedding in New York.

Well ... I ... actually ...

Once again Irina had to come to his aid. She explained to her cousins.

That day I introduced him to over a hundred people, it is not possible that he remembers them all. After a pause and with a mischievous gesture, she added.

Although in truth Thiago is a bed physiognomist. I hope that seeing me every day he will not forget my face.

The exaggeration was followed by a general laughter.

Please, come to the dining room. The housewife replied amused.

The dinner was a complete success. Frederika Fiodorov had an excellent cook and was herself an exquisite pastry chef and had taken great pains to entertain her guests. Christina and Max, the children of the local marriage, monopolized Thiago´s attention because he was more of their age and his exotic South American origin; in this way they crowded the visitor with questions about youth in Argentina, their musical tastes and customs, which the newcomer was not always in a position to answer.

Meanwhile, the homeowners chatted with Irina. As the young people were far away, they did so in French, the language preferred by the Russian aristocracy of all time. At one point Igor said.

As you already know, Duke Golovkin will make a party in his palace for all the members of our community in Austria next Monday to discuss the subject I told you about when I was in New York.  He took a glance at Thiago who was with his children. Are you sure ...?

Dear Igor, I trust him as I trust myself. I know well what is at stake here. If I had doubts I would not have married Thiago Ferrari.

Then looking at Frederika she added.

More than me having become a Ferrari he is the one who has become a Fiodorov.

Well, I'm glad to hear that. In any case, before joining us, he must be approved by the plenary after interviewing him. You know there is a black ball.

I have no fear that he will fail. Have I ever disappointed you?

Never, I have no doubts about your good judgment when choosing people ... especially a husband.

Frederika watched the conversation closely. The calm and confident style of her visitor seduced her despite the potential rivalry between all women in the same circle.

Irina and Thiago spent the weekend touring Vienna. Each place brought the lady back memories of her childhood and early youth spent in the city, while her husband was dazzled by the architecture of Vienna and the obvious quality of life that its inhabitants evidenced.

On Sunday, when they returned to the hotel, while Thiago was taking a shower, his wife worked with her laptop. When the young man came out of the bathroom, it was Irina's turn to bathe and while he dried himself, the first one peeked at the screen of the device, more out of boredom than curiosity. Something caught his attention and he carefully read the article written in French. When Irina came out of the bathroom drying her hair, her husband asked her a slightly ironic question.

My dear, in this article you were reading, it says that Tsar Nicholas' mother, shot by the Bolsheviks, was called Fiodorovna, just like you.

So now you're spending your time browsing my computer? Doesn't that seem like a violation of my privacy? The tone was equally ironic.

Well ... actually I just looked  ...

When her husband fell into one of his usual confusions, Irina changed her tone.

I really don't care, because I have nothing to hide, much less about my origins. Well yes, the mother of Nicholas II and wife of his father Aleksandr III was called Maria Fiodorovna, but it has nothing to do with the branch of my family. Maria was actually Princess Dagmar of Denmark, daughter of the then king of that country. She became Tsarina of Russia by her marriage to Aleksandr III and then changed her name. If we were from the same family that would make us members of the royal house of the Romanovs.

Then we are not Princes? The man's ironic tone had become sarcastic, which convinced his wife to teach him a lesson. She stood in front of Thiago, standing on tiptoe, bringing her face closer to his and with her right hand gently pushed the man's neck to join his lips.

"No, we are not. And I remind you that you should take these things seriously since now you are also a Fiodorov.

On Monday at 5 pm, Cousin Igor accompanied by his beautiful wife Frederika came to look for them to go together to the reception that would take place in the Duke Golovkin's palace. Thiago had received hundreds of instructions on the protocols that governed the actions of the closed community of nobles exiled a century before and yet exhibited remarkable unity and coherence.

Don't worry Frederika said to the young man. I am ethnically German and not Russian, and at the time of my marriage to Igor I also had to adapt to the styles and beliefs of the Russian nobility.

Well, it is a consolation. The Argentine replied without much conviction.

The palace was located on the outskirts of Vienna, in a semi-rural setting and lived up to its name. It was huge, full of windows corresponding to as many other rooms, and Thiago lost count of the ones facing the entrance to the building.

Access was made through a marble staircase that ended in a huge wooden portal. Liveried clerks walked in and out of the palace incessantly carrying all sorts of items, and several men in dark suits wandered the gardens trying to remain unnoticed.

Security personnel thought the visitor without fear of being wrong.

In total, a hundred guests were already in the huge central hall of the building, men dressed in strict etiquette and beautiful ladies of all ages wearing luxurious dresses, jewelry and well-groomed hairstyles. Thiago felt transported to some film in a late European court of the XIX century, but he could not hide from himself the emotion and the visual joy that the unfolding process produced in him.

Many of the attendees knew Irina from her youth and childhood and lavished affectionate but formal greetings on her and the young man had to shake scores of hands from ladies and gentlemen who addressed him in French.

Finally Igor approached Irina and Thiago and told them.

Here our paths separate. I will accompany Thiago to a presentation meeting with Duke Golovkin and some other members of our community. Please you and Frederika join the ladies and the rest of the gentlemen for a reception evening in the next room.

Will the black ball show up here? Thiago whispered in his wife's ear, who burst out laughing.

There will only be white balls for you, dear. You cannot believe that I have exposed you to a potentially frustrating situation.

Igor and the young man entered another room that turned out to be a game room with pool tables. Around an oval table were five elderly men. Igor proceeded to the introductions starting with the homeowner. He did it in French although later the language turned to English to facilitate exchanges with the young visitor.

Our host, Duke Golovkin, Count Shuvalov, Prince Vorontsov, General Naryshkin and young Demidov.

Each of the nominees introduced himself with rigid formality and Thiago tried to imitate the modes as best as possible, taking into account the advice given by Irina and Igor.

Finally Duke Golovkin said.

Please gentlemen, have a seat.

In another huge room the other guests were standing or sitting in armchairs, attending a show that had spontaneously originated. Duchess Golovkin, the homeowner's wife, had sat in front of a huge grand piano from which she was playing some tunes. Suddenly one of the seated ladies said out loud.

Let Frederika sing!

The aforementioned made a modest gesture to apologize but the pianist cordially demanded.

Come on dear. Won't you deprive us of your voice?

Frederika stood by the piano and as if they had tacitly agreed something with Madame Golovkin began to sing a lied in German with a beautiful alto voice followed by the pianist.

Frederika is a lieder specialist. another lady whispered in Irina's ear.

Finally Duke Golovkin and his companions left the game room and entered the concert hall with a relaxed gesture. Irina looked at her husband and he returned her gaze with a smile.

At that moment Igor said out loud.

I propose that now my cousin Irina sing for us typical Russian melodies. Approaching the Duchess, he added.

I can accompany her to the piano, as we did as youngsters in this same city.

Before the concurring assent Igor added.

If you think so dear, we will start with Je vais seul sur la route.

When Irina began to sing with her clear soprano voice, her surprised husband, since he did not cease to learn new and unexpected aspects of his wife; then he recalled the series of melodies performed by a Russian singer named Svetlana he had heard in the musical center of the flat from Irina the day he met her.

After the magnificent dinner, Duke Golovkin tapped his glass goblet with a teaspoon to attract attention and once there was silence he said out loud.

I invite you to return to the main room to attend the presentation of the topic that decided us to convene this meeting, which will be in charge of Prince Vorontsov. It is not necessary to remind you of the absolute confidentiality of everything that we will hear next.

The assistants returned to the main room where in the meantime the dinner had taken place, the employees had transformed by placing chairs for everyone and a table on which were a laptop and a projection cannon. In front of the desk was a large screen that already had a first slide with a title in French and where it could be read.

The Trans-Siberian journey.

Thiago looked puzzled at his wife and asked her.

Do you know anything about all this?

Of course, it is one of the reasons for our trip to Vienna, in addition to introducing you to my family and friends and returning to the place of my childhood.

Chapter 1

RUSSIA- WINTER 1919-1920

After the Bolshevik Revolution of October 1917 and the signing of the peace treaty between Russia and Germany,