It was a day for great deeds.

Bolik could feel the greatness of the day in his bones. He had risen before dawn on this Midwinter morn, not at all dismayed by the darkness that wrapped him in her embrace when he stepped out of the barracks. The sun would only show its face for a couple of candlemarks on this, the shortest day of the year—if it came out at all. Snowflakes brushed his lips with cold kisses, their falling filling his ears with a silvery sleeting sound, as he jogged across the main square to the kremlin palace. He had his first ever guard duty for the Imperial family today, and he didn’t want to be late.

“Who’re you?” The guards at the palace entrance squinted at him suspiciously through the fast-falling snow. Bolik had only arrived in Krasnograd, the capital city, the week before, and had only been assigned to the Imperial guard two days ago. Many of the other guards didn’t recognize him yet by sight.

“Bolik—Boleslav Vlasiyevich.”

“What kind of a name is Boleslav? For that matter, what kind of a name is Vlasya? Didn’t your mother have a real name?”

“My mother was from the far West of Zem’. Boleslav and Vlasya are both common names there.”

The two guards made faces at that and muttered something about “arrogant Westerners.” Bolik stood there patiently until they finished grumbling and asked, as if suddenly remembering, “Hey, aren’t you the one who came in with that caravan last week? The one who’s the new apple of the Captain’s eye?”

“I came in with a caravan last week,” Bolik confirmed. “I don’t know about being the apple of the Captain’s eye.”

“Is it true you saved a princess’s honor by fighting off a dozen bandits singlehandedly?” The younger of the two guards had stopped scowling, and seemed on the verge of gushing with excitement.

“Four,” said Bolik.

The guards looked confused.

“There were only four bandits,” he clarified.

The younger guard looked disappointed. The older guard, who maybe had a better idea of what it meant to face down four foes singlehandedly, looked impressed.

“And that’s why they sent you here,” he stated. “Because you’d proven yourself in the provinces, so they sent you here to guard the Tsarina.”

“Something like that,” said Bolik. “And now, if you don’t mind, I don’t want to be late…”

The guards stepped aside, letting him into the palace.

Bolik had been taken on a brisk tour of the Imperial chambers the day before, in preparation for his new duty. Mainly he’d been struck by the bright, high, whitewashed walls, made of sturdy brick and stone. He’d expected gold and silk and amber and furs, and there had been plenty of that, too, especially in the private chambers, but out here in the corridors, the bones of the building showed through. It was a luxurious palace, fit for an Empress, but it was also a center of government and commerce, its public areas spacious and spare. 

Above all, it was a fortress. It had only been conquered once, by the foremother of the current Tsarina, and that had been in ages past, when Zem’ had not been a mighty country, but a patchwork of warring queendoms.

Who would be fool enough to attack the Krasnograd kremlin now? No one. Who would be fool enough to attack the Tsarina and her daughters? No one. Well, not unless he were very drunk. Speaking of drunk…

Bolik skirted around two serving maids and a kitchen boy lying insensible in a corner. Last night’s Midwinter festivities had been a subdued affair, suitable for the dignity of princesses, and Bolik hadn’t participated at all, not wanting to show up to his first duty hungover. Apparently other kremlin servants hadn’t felt so restrained.

Why’d they choose to do their carousing there? It’s right by the entrance to the dungeons. Bolik’s skin crawled as he passed the dark, double-locked doors. Even with sturdy oak and iron bars between him and the stairs leading down into the dungeon’s depths, he could feel the fetid air rising up from them, threatening to suck him down into their maw.

Don’t be silly. You’re not going to end up down there. You’re here to guard the Imperial family, up in riches, luxury, and clean air. The dungeons have nothing to do with you. He shook off the unchancy feeling that had settled over him, and started up the stairs—bright, light, and airy—leading to the upper floors of the kremlin.

He got lost briefly when he entered the private part of the palace, but a bleary-eyed maid pointed him in the direction of the Tsarina’s chambers. Two guards looked him up and down when he presented himself at her door, and demanded to know if there was any vodka left in the barracks.

“I don’t know,” Bolik said, startled. “Do you need the passwor…”

“We know who you are,” they told him. “Everyone knows who you are. It’s all the maids are talking about.”

And indeed, two giggling girls peeped around the corner of the corridor, goggling at Bolik and whispering to each other.

“I’m not here to see maids,” Bolik said. “I’m here to present myself to the Tsarina and the Tsarinovnas.”

“Think well of yourself, do you?” one of the guards said. “Think you’re going to do great deeds, day in and day out, the entire time you’re here? Let me tell you, there are no great deeds here. Just boredom and sore feet from standing all day.”

“It will be an honor to serve my Empress,” Bolik said.

The guards rolled their eyes at that, but let him into the inner chamber.

It was a surprisingly small room, but richly furnished, with  silk hangings on the walls, a little table inlaid with gold and amber, and a stove made with tiles from the East. Out of the corner of his eye, Bolik glimpsed a small furry creature whisk behind a wall hanging.

A cold draft made his skin prickle. “Here, kitty kitt…” The other door opened before he could finish calling, and two women stepped inside.

Not the Tsarina. Her daughters. Bolik’s heart jumped in his chest even so. He had seen the Tsarina and her heir from afar the day before. The younger daughter he hadn’t seen at all, but he still knew her…

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