Andrey Aronovich Uvarov
The long whistle of the conductor, followed by her entering the train and turning a switch signalled the closing of all the doors. It was immediately followed by the long horn and the train started moving. The Vitebski Zachodni Station was being left behind as the electric multiple unit, or as it was called in the Slavic world the "Elektrichka", started gaining speed along the bumpy railway. Andrey looked out the window as the platform was followed by a huge rail yard filled to the brim with freight carriages and some sleeping passenger cars which will probably be formed in the evening into the "Translavic Express", an international intercity train that travels all the way from Vitebsk to Kremlyov, traversing all of Vitebsk, all of Kazansk and half of Tarusa, in a nearly 4,000 km long ride that lasts about 60 hours. The rail is elevated, so from time to time, the berm is punctuated by the Prospekts, wide boulevards the crisscross the city, as a form of express ways from the outskirts to downtown. Thinking of the Translavic Express, Andrey thought that it was a trip that would be truly worthy of taking, just for the sake of adventure, the same way the Trans-Toyou Express linked Kremlyov to Uicheon through all of Tarusa, Karzask, the Anti-State and finally Tianlong, with 7 days necessary for the trip. His line of thought has been broken by the conductor, who came to check his ticket.
The train barely managed to gain speed and it started slowing down, approaching its first station, Malinovka. Here, people only got on the train, nobody alighting. It was typical for a Friday, as Vitebsk was a city that developed and grew a lot in the past three to four decades, probably only as little as 25% of its people were born and raised here, so every time an extended weekend came, it felt like a full on migration taking place, everyone leaving the capital, either for the dachas in the suburbs or to their hometowns around the nation. This Friday, march the 18th marked the repose of Saint Cyril of Zhicha, a supposedly important said of Vitebskian heritage, which meant that most companies gave their workers a short Friday, which meant for Andrey, that as much as he was happy to avoid the evening rush hour, today was a special day, as the whole day was a complete rush hour.
He didn't take the car, as he knew that he will just spend about 2 hours driving all the way from his apartment in the Krasny Bor district the Yugo-Zapad district and it would probably take even more to try and cross the ring road on the outskirts of the city. The Elektrichka wasn't that bad, it was a clean, comfortable, modern train, even if it was just a suburban one. Even if this EMU itself was brand new, built in Vitebsk in cooperation with companies from the Rheinbund, the image of the Elektrichkas from the 70s and 80s, with the ancient petrified dirt on them and the wooden seats is still alive in the minds of many people. The train stopped again, this time in the small village of Lebyazhyi. Now finally, some people started to alight, making the atmosphere a bit more breathable.
Vitebsk wasn't the southernmost Slavic country, as Serbovia and Thrakia could be found to the south-west, but its geography gave it an extremely mild climate, with short mild winters, and long hot summers, thanks to the air currents bringing warmth from Himyar and the Axshaina Sea. Late march also meant that the spring's rainy season started, with temperatures going between 14 to 20 degrees, it meant it was was the perfect time for the people to go to the dachas and enjoy some nice weather and relax.
After two hours, the train reached the station of Paliana, where Andrey alighted. Taking his backpack on his back and continuing to listen to music on the earphones he just started walking from the train station along the main road for about 20 minutes, after which he took a left turn in an intersection and walked for about ten more minutes. By now, the village outright ended and he was walking besides the road, which had no sidewalk. The atmosphere was cool, as he was being surrounded by the Biely Les, the primeval white forest, with ancient oaks, but also beeches and fir trees. He could hear the Ryta river flowing somewhere. The Ryta was flowing into the Drut, a huge river whose springs were in northern Kazansk, close to the borders with Tarusa and was flowing all the way down, forming a natural border between Kazansk and Vitebsk, and then crossed the nation, forming a natural border between Polesia and Wendziema, before finally reaching the Axshaina Sea. Some birds were chirping, a clear sign that spring was in the air. Andrey saw some movement along the trees, but they were just squirrels. His only concern was that he might meet with a boar, or a fox. While the forest was known of its huge wolf and bison populations, he fact that he was so close to the village and the road, made it a safe walk.
He was passing, from time to time in front of large wooden dachas. The Biely Les was a place of upmost importance for the naturalists of Vitebsk, who studies the ecosystem, but also for historians as it was historically the hunting reserve of the Polesian Grand Princes, and naturally it was the perfect place for many noble families to build their dachas here. Prime real estate, in the heard of nature, especially as the forest was now protected. Far enough to leave the city behind, but close enough to be still close to the corridors of power. Uvarov was one of those families.
As he approached the dacha of the Uvarovs, Milana Kobrinski, a woman in her mid 60s working since she was young for the family in maintaining the dacha, was shocked to see him. "Andrey, what in God's name are you doing? How did you arrive? Where's the car? Did you come through the forest?" she asked as she nearly dropped a basket of chanterelles she collected that morning. "Pryvitannie, Milana Mikhailovna," he said respectfully towards her and approached her and gave her a kiss on the cheek. "Just took the train to avoid traffic," he continued. Milana Mikhailovna Kobrinski was the one who raised him, probably as much as his own mother. After his father died, his mom preferred to leave the city of Vitebsk, where she was a professor at the Royal Academy of Economic Studies, and moved full time to the Dacha in Paliana. Sometimes she still writes economy articles that end up published by the AP. "Just don't tell your mother you came all the way from the station by foot, she'll go crazy," Milana continued. Andrey nodded and entered the dacha.
"Maty'!" he yelled as he entered the house, but nothing moved. After going round, he finally saw her on the patio in the back. "Sweet Jesus, you scared me!" she nearly yelled as he stormed through the door with his backpack in a hug. She was painting. "I didn't know you got a new hobby," he said, as Sasha, the family's hound came waggling its tail jumped on him. "I mean, it's not that I'm good or anything... This oak I'm trying to paint literally looks more like a stickman who worked too much in an uranium mine..." she said chuckling. "But it passes the time," she continued. Andzhela was a woman in her mid 60s. She was Vitebskian born and bred, from Ovruch, but since she married into the Uvarov family, she started adopting more and more Tarusan influences, as the family's history stated that they came from Tarusa in the 1600s and moved to Vitebsk.
Andrey left his backpack in his room and returned downstairs, where Milana was preparing something to eat for them. The sun was out and the temperatures were perfect for a springy afternoon. The trees were still lacking in foliage, but some green started to sprout on their branches and some birds could be heard, along with the slow rumble of the Ryta river. Sasha barked at something in the forest, but as Andrey sat on a chair, the dog immediately moved under it and sat down. Milana came with some Zakuski, with three large plates, one with canapes of sprats with curumbers and cheese spread, another with rye bread and a jar of spread made out of roasted peppers, onions and eggplants, and another with some cut kolbasa and other cured meats. She went inside and came back quickly afterwards. "As it is a special day...something special too," she said showing a bottle of homemade Krambambula, a Vitebskian traditional drink, which was actually vodka, but which has been spiced with juniper berries, anise seeds, elderflower and honey.
"You remember the Ivaškins?" Andzhela said. "I spoke with the mom recently and she said that Nikita moved to Kremlyov," she continued. "He seems to have finished the Royal Military Academy here, and while it was usual to at least serve 5 years in the army before switching careers, he managed to find some way of moving there and he's now in the Tarusan Army," she continued. "I find it weird. Why would one do that?" Andrey said as he took a slice of bread and eat it with the vegetable spread. He remembered the Ivaškins. Nikita was one of his best friends in middle school, but the friendship cooled off in High School, but when both of them ended up in Vitebsk, Nikita for the Military Academy and Andrey for the Police one, they met again, but the chemistry wasn't there anymore. The news of him moving to Kremlyov somehow gave him an aversion towards Nikita. Why would someone do that? "It's dangerous," Andrey continued, as Milana finished her canape and poured drinks for all of them. "Tarusa is going through extreme tensions with the Germanians now and if he's that idiotic to go there, he might very soon die on some no-name field in Lethonia," Andrey said. His mom nodded. "Yeah, it was weird, his mother felt weird about it too, like she was against it, but then again he's an adult now, so it's his own choice, but she believes that he went around the Corporatist circles in Vitebsk when he was a cadet," said Andzhela looking disconcerted.
"Let's leave the crazy fascists where they are. In my opinion, if he's some corporatist, let's thank God he left for Kremlyov," said Milana, making the cross sign. "Let's enjoy our meal and the family coming together," she continued as she raised the glass and all three of them toasting.
Andrey's father, Aron Aronovich, died when he was a child, so it was Andzhela's and Milana's duty to raise him, while the other members of the Uvarov family became more and more absent in their lives as more and more time passed since Aron's death. Andzhela was bitter about this, as she knew that while the Uvarovs were of noble birth, she was not, hence as much as she loved her husband, his family always saw her was some form of a gold digger, even if her own family was living a comfortable middle class life. Their ostracization from the rest of the family only served to prove her point even more. Afterwards, she never remarried, although had some flings.
"To be fair, I am really glad that you chose the police, over the army. I mean, I would have been happier to know you as a full civilian, but still. Those are very concerning times and international tensions are at an all time high," said Andzhela as she took some kolbasa with some rye bread. "Yeah, it's not a the fanciest thing, so not something like professor," he said, pointing to her career history, "and being a detective in organised crime is surprisingly much safer that the name makes it sound," said Andrey laughing as he ate a canape and then poured krambambula into the three glasses. "Although it's more interesting than traffic police," he chuckled.
While not that special in general, he really liked the extended weekends as being at the dacha relaxed him and gave him the chance to enjoy some peace and quiet in nature, while also spending most of the days eating, drinking and gossiping.
"Oh, yeah, one more thing," Andrey said as he took a sip of the drink. "Jozef and Abba will come too for this prolonged weekend," he said with a shy voice. One could easily see the horrified face of his mother and the enthusiasm on Milena's.
The train barely managed to gain speed and it started slowing down, approaching its first station, Malinovka. Here, people only got on the train, nobody alighting. It was typical for a Friday, as Vitebsk was a city that developed and grew a lot in the past three to four decades, probably only as little as 25% of its people were born and raised here, so every time an extended weekend came, it felt like a full on migration taking place, everyone leaving the capital, either for the dachas in the suburbs or to their hometowns around the nation. This Friday, march the 18th marked the repose of Saint Cyril of Zhicha, a supposedly important said of Vitebskian heritage, which meant that most companies gave their workers a short Friday, which meant for Andrey, that as much as he was happy to avoid the evening rush hour, today was a special day, as the whole day was a complete rush hour.
He didn't take the car, as he knew that he will just spend about 2 hours driving all the way from his apartment in the Krasny Bor district the Yugo-Zapad district and it would probably take even more to try and cross the ring road on the outskirts of the city. The Elektrichka wasn't that bad, it was a clean, comfortable, modern train, even if it was just a suburban one. Even if this EMU itself was brand new, built in Vitebsk in cooperation with companies from the Rheinbund, the image of the Elektrichkas from the 70s and 80s, with the ancient petrified dirt on them and the wooden seats is still alive in the minds of many people. The train stopped again, this time in the small village of Lebyazhyi. Now finally, some people started to alight, making the atmosphere a bit more breathable.
Vitebsk wasn't the southernmost Slavic country, as Serbovia and Thrakia could be found to the south-west, but its geography gave it an extremely mild climate, with short mild winters, and long hot summers, thanks to the air currents bringing warmth from Himyar and the Axshaina Sea. Late march also meant that the spring's rainy season started, with temperatures going between 14 to 20 degrees, it meant it was was the perfect time for the people to go to the dachas and enjoy some nice weather and relax.
After two hours, the train reached the station of Paliana, where Andrey alighted. Taking his backpack on his back and continuing to listen to music on the earphones he just started walking from the train station along the main road for about 20 minutes, after which he took a left turn in an intersection and walked for about ten more minutes. By now, the village outright ended and he was walking besides the road, which had no sidewalk. The atmosphere was cool, as he was being surrounded by the Biely Les, the primeval white forest, with ancient oaks, but also beeches and fir trees. He could hear the Ryta river flowing somewhere. The Ryta was flowing into the Drut, a huge river whose springs were in northern Kazansk, close to the borders with Tarusa and was flowing all the way down, forming a natural border between Kazansk and Vitebsk, and then crossed the nation, forming a natural border between Polesia and Wendziema, before finally reaching the Axshaina Sea. Some birds were chirping, a clear sign that spring was in the air. Andrey saw some movement along the trees, but they were just squirrels. His only concern was that he might meet with a boar, or a fox. While the forest was known of its huge wolf and bison populations, he fact that he was so close to the village and the road, made it a safe walk.
He was passing, from time to time in front of large wooden dachas. The Biely Les was a place of upmost importance for the naturalists of Vitebsk, who studies the ecosystem, but also for historians as it was historically the hunting reserve of the Polesian Grand Princes, and naturally it was the perfect place for many noble families to build their dachas here. Prime real estate, in the heard of nature, especially as the forest was now protected. Far enough to leave the city behind, but close enough to be still close to the corridors of power. Uvarov was one of those families.
As he approached the dacha of the Uvarovs, Milana Kobrinski, a woman in her mid 60s working since she was young for the family in maintaining the dacha, was shocked to see him. "Andrey, what in God's name are you doing? How did you arrive? Where's the car? Did you come through the forest?" she asked as she nearly dropped a basket of chanterelles she collected that morning. "Pryvitannie, Milana Mikhailovna," he said respectfully towards her and approached her and gave her a kiss on the cheek. "Just took the train to avoid traffic," he continued. Milana Mikhailovna Kobrinski was the one who raised him, probably as much as his own mother. After his father died, his mom preferred to leave the city of Vitebsk, where she was a professor at the Royal Academy of Economic Studies, and moved full time to the Dacha in Paliana. Sometimes she still writes economy articles that end up published by the AP. "Just don't tell your mother you came all the way from the station by foot, she'll go crazy," Milana continued. Andrey nodded and entered the dacha.
"Maty'!" he yelled as he entered the house, but nothing moved. After going round, he finally saw her on the patio in the back. "Sweet Jesus, you scared me!" she nearly yelled as he stormed through the door with his backpack in a hug. She was painting. "I didn't know you got a new hobby," he said, as Sasha, the family's hound came waggling its tail jumped on him. "I mean, it's not that I'm good or anything... This oak I'm trying to paint literally looks more like a stickman who worked too much in an uranium mine..." she said chuckling. "But it passes the time," she continued. Andzhela was a woman in her mid 60s. She was Vitebskian born and bred, from Ovruch, but since she married into the Uvarov family, she started adopting more and more Tarusan influences, as the family's history stated that they came from Tarusa in the 1600s and moved to Vitebsk.
Andrey left his backpack in his room and returned downstairs, where Milana was preparing something to eat for them. The sun was out and the temperatures were perfect for a springy afternoon. The trees were still lacking in foliage, but some green started to sprout on their branches and some birds could be heard, along with the slow rumble of the Ryta river. Sasha barked at something in the forest, but as Andrey sat on a chair, the dog immediately moved under it and sat down. Milana came with some Zakuski, with three large plates, one with canapes of sprats with curumbers and cheese spread, another with rye bread and a jar of spread made out of roasted peppers, onions and eggplants, and another with some cut kolbasa and other cured meats. She went inside and came back quickly afterwards. "As it is a special day...something special too," she said showing a bottle of homemade Krambambula, a Vitebskian traditional drink, which was actually vodka, but which has been spiced with juniper berries, anise seeds, elderflower and honey.
"You remember the Ivaškins?" Andzhela said. "I spoke with the mom recently and she said that Nikita moved to Kremlyov," she continued. "He seems to have finished the Royal Military Academy here, and while it was usual to at least serve 5 years in the army before switching careers, he managed to find some way of moving there and he's now in the Tarusan Army," she continued. "I find it weird. Why would one do that?" Andrey said as he took a slice of bread and eat it with the vegetable spread. He remembered the Ivaškins. Nikita was one of his best friends in middle school, but the friendship cooled off in High School, but when both of them ended up in Vitebsk, Nikita for the Military Academy and Andrey for the Police one, they met again, but the chemistry wasn't there anymore. The news of him moving to Kremlyov somehow gave him an aversion towards Nikita. Why would someone do that? "It's dangerous," Andrey continued, as Milana finished her canape and poured drinks for all of them. "Tarusa is going through extreme tensions with the Germanians now and if he's that idiotic to go there, he might very soon die on some no-name field in Lethonia," Andrey said. His mom nodded. "Yeah, it was weird, his mother felt weird about it too, like she was against it, but then again he's an adult now, so it's his own choice, but she believes that he went around the Corporatist circles in Vitebsk when he was a cadet," said Andzhela looking disconcerted.
"Let's leave the crazy fascists where they are. In my opinion, if he's some corporatist, let's thank God he left for Kremlyov," said Milana, making the cross sign. "Let's enjoy our meal and the family coming together," she continued as she raised the glass and all three of them toasting.
Andrey's father, Aron Aronovich, died when he was a child, so it was Andzhela's and Milana's duty to raise him, while the other members of the Uvarov family became more and more absent in their lives as more and more time passed since Aron's death. Andzhela was bitter about this, as she knew that while the Uvarovs were of noble birth, she was not, hence as much as she loved her husband, his family always saw her was some form of a gold digger, even if her own family was living a comfortable middle class life. Their ostracization from the rest of the family only served to prove her point even more. Afterwards, she never remarried, although had some flings.
"To be fair, I am really glad that you chose the police, over the army. I mean, I would have been happier to know you as a full civilian, but still. Those are very concerning times and international tensions are at an all time high," said Andzhela as she took some kolbasa with some rye bread. "Yeah, it's not a the fanciest thing, so not something like professor," he said, pointing to her career history, "and being a detective in organised crime is surprisingly much safer that the name makes it sound," said Andrey laughing as he ate a canape and then poured krambambula into the three glasses. "Although it's more interesting than traffic police," he chuckled.
While not that special in general, he really liked the extended weekends as being at the dacha relaxed him and gave him the chance to enjoy some peace and quiet in nature, while also spending most of the days eating, drinking and gossiping.
"Oh, yeah, one more thing," Andrey said as he took a sip of the drink. "Jozef and Abba will come too for this prolonged weekend," he said with a shy voice. One could easily see the horrified face of his mother and the enthusiasm on Milena's.
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