“It’s…good to see you again,” said the Baron. “You’ve been fighting, I hear. Avoiding the family name, the family lands.”

“It was the only way to clear my mind of what happened,” Pyotr replied.

The Baron nodded. “Feodor and Arkady, yes. A tragedy at the hands of those animals, the Socialist Revolutionaries. Arkady died a soldier’s death, and I saw to it he had a soldier’s burial, in the family plot.”

“That was kind of you,” Pyotr said. “A pity you couldn’t be more kind to him in life.”

“I suppose I deserve that,” said the Baron. “Though I hoped that, in the midst of all this madness, that you might understand.”

“What of the family lands? What of Feodor?” Pyotr asked.

“The lands are still ours. I’ve pledged to support the Provisional Government and promised the tenants what they need to get by. The Czar was weak, a weak fool, to let them come to power, but they’re better than the alternative. A bulwark against the Socialist Revolutionaries coming to power.”

“And Feodor?”

“Last I heard he took to the hills with about half of your old State Militia detachment. Joined the SRs, I imagine, though they say that his men took out a German patrol. So they haven’t forgotten their patriotism at least, and are still serving their betters even if they themselves do not yet understand it.”

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