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Graduation Day.  Book 3 in 18 parts, By FinalStand. Listen to the ► Podcast at Explicit Novels."You know nothing of what you speak of, Ishara, yet you now feel free to insult us," she simmered."Don't know, don't care. It was all before my time. I care about the 'here-and-now' as well as what we do in the future. What I am asking you is what concrete item or 'thing' can be provided to House Zorja to put this blood feud behind you. Name it and House Ishara will endeavor to procure it for you.""We are not merchants," Jana's eyes narrowed."No. I didn't imply you were. If you want new sandals for everyone in your House, I'll find you new sandals. If you want 100,000 acres of ranchland, I'll find you the land. Name it," I persisted."Our prestige cannot be bought," she 'explained'."No, but a blood feud with House Ishara can be avoided by making a request of us in the same way as expressing your desire to harm my daughter can be expressed by denying my offer," I hardened. "And 'fuck you very much' if you think I won't use every son, daughter, mother, aunt, and uncle of Ishara when I come gunning for House Zorja too.""You wouldn't dare bring outsiders into this," Klavdiya interjected."Why not? The offices of Ishara handed House Zorja the coup of the century ~ the capture of the People's Liberation Army Navy nuclear carrier. A member of House Zorja commanded that task, yet they did so by leading forces marshalled by House Ishara, outsider forces. You may wish to keep playing by old rules concerning who is and isn't part of a House, but I am not so constrained, sisters.""So Klavdiya, if House Meenakshi pursues its blood feud with House Zorja, House Ishara will gleefully join them in the pummeling. And we have Isharans in the 9 Clans, the Khanate and the Illuminati who will gladly help us out in slapping them around like the old-fashion curmudgeons they are showing themselves to be, or, House Zorja may request a gift from House Ishara and we will happily clear accounts between them and House Meenakshi in the name of our daughter, Parvati. Their choice.""You are still on the mats," Elsa reminded me. Sikia coiled protectively next to us."And you said something about a lesson being long overdue," Pamela smirked, "Kitten.""Cáel Ishara," Shawnee said in a soft voice, "perhaps it is germane to the argument: the fault of the blood feud rests with House Zorja, not House Meenakshi."I fell on my back, carrying Tad fi with me. She gasped out in surprise while remaining closely cuddled with me. Her right hand never left my lips."Why does no one tell me this shit?" I moaned."You are hard," Tad fi announced. "Are you ready to have more sex?" She was sounding upbeat about our prospects. She was also ignorant of our surroundings being deaf and blind to the mortal realm."Gossamer Wing," I created a pet name for the augur, "we are lying on the sparring mats of a large combat arena in the central Full-blooded training center for Havenstone with roughly 500 sisters in attendance (the audience had grown). While I am enticed by your scent, words, proximity and sweet memories of what we've shared, I'm probably going to be badly beaten up really soon for a terrific diplomatic snafu.""But then we can have sex?""Yeah. I'm totally up for having sex with you after they release me from Medical," I assured her. I looked around her to a very unhappy Mahdi."Can you find it in your heart to forgive House Zorja? Anything I can,""Yes," she abruptly cut me off.What the fuck?"At this time, my hatred of House Ishara, and you in particular, make any grievance I have with House Zorja pale in comparison. You have bewitched my only daughter. She bares your child, and it will be a wonderful child if the soiled augur you've stuck your cock in is to be believed," she ground out bitterly. "I want to go home. I want to find enemies to kill. And when I do, Cáel Ishara, know each and every one of them will carry your face in my mind."She turned to Jana. "Do you agree that we both hate Ishara enough to put aside our current differences?"Jana studied Mahdi, me, then Mahdi again and agreed. She stood. Mahdi stood. They clasped arms like Amazons, then hugged like sisters."Agreed. He is much worse."My thoughts on the matter. Woot! I was having sex! Oh, and I was making Aya happy by ending a blood feud."My admiration of you continues to increase," Krasimira looked at me. "This diplomacy stuff is harder than it looks yet you pull it off so effortlessly.""Yay me!" I muttered."Keeper, are we done?" Sikia asked Krasimira."I believe so," the older Amazon rose to her feet. Sikia was far faster in rising."Mahdi of Meenakshi, you have insulted me and my augur. Defend yourself," she snarled. If Tad fi hadn't been immediately present, Mahdi wouldn't have even warranted a warning no doubt."Had you done your job," Mahdi flowed into her fighting stance, "you both wouldn't be pregnant.""Whoa now," I struggled to rise while keeping Tad fi close and my body between her and the Meenakshi/Zorja side of the mat. "Sikia, I can't let you fight. You're pregnant too.""Don't be stupid, Cáel Ishara," Sikia retreated off the mat, so she could shed her jacket and footwear. "Amazons have fought pregnant for thousands of years.""Hold on now," NYPD Sgt. Larisa Kutuzov said in English as she moved forward. I was a millisecond too late. Larisa's foot touched down on the mat and Marlene Zorja popped her one, a hand chop to the larynx. The senior cop stumbled forward."Mom!" shouted Nikita. Marlene followed up with a leg sweep, putting Larisa face first on the mats, then a fist strike to the back of the head, knocking her out. Neat and tidy in less than two seconds.Nikita was about to charge in when Chaz stopped her."Footwear," he advised in the tone of voice I had learned to associate with him and imminent violence. The moment he stopped her, he was quickly removing his own socks and shoes. Virginia and Pamela were doing the same. I was allowed freedom of movement because I was holding Tad fi. Krasimira exited because of her unique status. The rest were already barefoot."Gale, could you please stay with Tad fi," I tried to hand her off."No," Gale looked me over. "I will fight." No hint on whose side she would be fighting on. Krasimira came to my rescue."I'll take her.""Tad fi," I told the augur, "I have to go get beaten up now, but I promise I will be back for you directly.""This is not your fight," Krasimira said. "The words and deeds are Sikia's.""A, she carries my child and B, the deeds being called into question are my fault.""You told me once they were the Will of Ishara," Krasimira mused."We are one in the same," I gave a lopsided grin."Be careful," Tad fi pleaded. "Your future is a chaotic jumble, I cannot see,""Eh, I've been very bad. We'll talk about it later. Gotta go," I headed onto the mats.Pamela was giving the ground rules to the 'normals': No 'fair warnings'. No 'fair play'. No 'time outs'. You fought until unconscious, or you surrendered."This is going to suck," Virginia assessed our odds. Two Amazons had removed Larisa from the mats and were tending to her. Nikita was kneeling by her side until she heard Virginia, then came our way.Besides Sikia, we had Pamela, Chaz, Virginia, myself and Nikita. Oneida stepping up was nice. She wasn't a great combatant, but we dearly needed the help. Gale joining us was, unsettling. Amazons don't play fair, so this could be a ruse.Against us were all three Zorja and both Meenakshi ~ I imagined Rhada felt she had something to prove to her mother. They'd picked up ten other Amazons and Rhonwenn Nemain. Klavdiya joined them to counterbalance her baby sister. Eight to seventeen ~ ouch."Damn," a familiar voice from my first days on the job spoke up from behind me, "we almost missed this." I didn't dare look over my shoulder. Desiree stepped between Chaz and Virginia. Rachel came up on my left and Tiger Lily on my right. At the tail end of our line was Mona, Meridian, Brielle and Wiesława. Fifteen to seventeen was looking much better, especially considering Desiree had brought five Security Detail warriors with her, all of whom were moving to further bolster our numbers."Rachel," Elsa looked to her underling, "you have no idea why you are fighting.""It is for Cáel. So it must be for a better tomorrow," Rachel laughed."Very well," Elsa smirked."You!" Mahdi pointed at me, and we both charged. It was a jumbled nightmare of clashing bodies, war cries and flashes of movement all around. Our side had two main advantages -While Chaz was by no means the best hand-to-hand combatant present, he knew the basic Amazon style and most Amazons didn't know his. Added to his overall height and bulk advantages, he bought us time.Of greater importance, Rachel, Tiger Lily and Mona had extensive training working as a team, which none of the opponents had.Elsa was the most dangerous individual on the mat. Pamela was the second most dangerous, so Elsa grabbed a couple of partners and ganged up on her to drive her off the mats. Chaz went next, out-Elsa'ed and beaten unconscious. The issue was, it took her too long to accomplish those two feats. By the time she rounded on me, Rachel and Tiger Lily, our half of the field had wiped out theirs. It was six of us (me, Rachel, Tiger Lily, Gale, Wiesława and Desiree) versus four of them (Elsa, Marlene, Klavdiya and Rhonwenn).Still, I was facing Elsa, so a judicious bit of treachery was required."Gale," I huffed and puffed, "please retire. I don't want you to fight your sister.""What?" Gale snapped. She'd taken a beating, yet remained feisty."No, fighting her sister is okay with me," Desiree scowled. "We are still facing fucking Elsa.""All the other women you have mated with have failed. I remain," Gale trumpeted."Oh, you are right," I half-turned. "All the reason you are more precious to me.""Really?""Of course," I deepened my introspective appreciation of her."Oh," and Klavdiya punched Rhonwenn. That was an 'oh, Cáel Ishara must actually care for my baby sister and not be just a Playa' on Klavdiya's part. Yeah. I'm a horrible fucking person at times.Rachel, Tiger Lily and I rushed Elsa. Marlene pivoted to ward against Klavdiya while Gale and Wiesława stormed in against her. Desiree helped Klavdiya finish drubbing Rhonwenn before they combined to force Marlene off the mats. Elsa chose to go down swinging in a dogpile of bodies. I took an ear-ringing blow to the head which allowed Rachel to apply a chokehold and it was lights out for the Head of SD.After some water bottles went around and those concussed returned to wakefulness, the resolution of the brawl was decided. Mahdi apologized to Sikia. It was short, terse and sparing of any empathy, yet was within the bounds of Amazon etiquette. She departed with Rhada, which left me to pick up the pieces, starting with Nikita's mom."Oh," the older woman moaned then, "Ms. Fredrickson? What are you doing here?""Avenging you, Mother," Nikita fluffed up the truth. "She, Cáel and the others cleaned house on the woman who jumped you and her allies.""Desk Sergeant," Desiree gave a curt nod."This isn't over," Larisa winced as she moved to a sitting position."Mrs. Kutuzov, it is over," I headed off a colossal waste of time. "This is my daily life and part of your daughter's life with JIKIT. You will find scant witnesses and no tape recordings of these events. This craziness is just another day in the life here at Havenstone. You stepped on the mat and thus became fair game to any physical confrontation an opponent cared to mete out. Consider this sovereign soil of an independent nation-state.""We," she looked around. "You kicked their asses?""Definitely," Pamela gave a feral snarl."This is plain nuts," she shook her head, winced in cranial pain, then put her aching head in her hands."One of the reasons we've put our dating in hiatus," Nikita comforted her mother while looking at me, and smiling affectionately.Ah, for fuck sakes! I was engaged to someone else and having a dozen kids by ten different women. How could I still possibly be considered viable dating material? Oh yeah, martial valor, laughing at death, I hung out with truly exceptional cool people and I would always be in need of saving, a plus for a crusader like Nikita.I had so many allies to tend to, but only one who seemed to be making an exit. I swooped down on Tad fi long enough to place her fingers to my lips."I'll be right back, friend of a friend in need," and off I went. I caught Tavi of House Stolgos just outside the door. She wasn't avoiding me. She'd been observing Chaz and he had been otherwise occupied.My British companion had played a pivotal role in the combat and taken his beating like a man. He'd been rendered unconscious. So had many others, so no stigma was attached to his loss. Post-battle, he had chosen to sit on his haunches, knees up, talking to several of the Amazons, both kneeling and standing. A few had been bystanders and a few others foes.He stayed on his ass to reduce his height advantage. Letting Amazons make eye contact while not having to look up at you created definite benefits. His good natured approach to his role in the fight and pummeling earned him positive vibes as well. He made it clear the tussle to him was not macho-personal. He was my 'brother / sister / sibling' spiritually-speaking via Pamela adopting us both as her 'grandsons', so my fights were his fights. Sikia had my (Cáel's) child, so that bond extended to her as well ~ family.Pamela and I had schooled him on Amazon psychology and those lessons were now paying serious dividends. 'The Male' hadn't wanted to fight them ~ 'Amazons are tough' he'd confessed, he knew this because he worked with several every day on JIKIT~ but family was on the line, so he fought. Mahdi had apologized, so the matter was settled. The other Amazons he'd fought? They had fought for their reasons and he was okay with not questioning them about it.Why? He was conscious of his conspicuous status as a 'guest', knew he was in no way an Amazon, and was not privy to what motivated them. He didn't want to be an Amazon. He had his own, much younger, martial tradition he was proud of, yet was eager to learn from the vastly greater Amazon war lore because 'winners' didn't have a gender-bias and no other tradition could compete with the Amazons' 3,000 years.Under normal circumstances, the women around him wouldn't have given credence to his praise. He was a male after all. Through the tiny tear I'd created in their insulating social fabric, Chaz was building upon his own exploits. In the after-battle analysis, the Amazons reflected on the realization Elsa had concentrated on him as her number two objective, second only to Pamela who scared everyone who knew anything about her. That bolstered Chaz's appeal.For the Amazons who thought a male would get all pouty and cry over being beaten up by a girl/girls, Chaz was breaking the mold. He wasn't angry. He was amused. The fight had been a learning experience and he'd felt honored to watch, no matter how briefly, a warrior of Elsa's caliber fight. He'd explained 'I', Cáel Wakko Ishara, considered Elsa one of the top 5 combatants I'd ever seen, which included Ajax the Unconquered. The others were Sakuniyas, reborn Amazon and former Queen of Assyria, Saint Marie, the Golden Mare, and Pamela, the Cliff-walker.More happy Amazons because the list's only non-Amazon was a dead Hero from the Trojan Wars and it was well known I 'got around' (aka dealt with violent outsiders.) Chaz was telling the truth, almost. The 'fifth' person on the list was Alal, but explaining him would be difficult, so Chaz edited him for this particular audience. Good man.In the hallway, "Tavi, a moment," I called out. She slowed down, took a few more steps allowing me to catch up."Yes Ishara?" she gave me her best neutral look. Yep. She was jealous."I beg two favors from you," I quickly went down to one knee in her path. That caught her off guard and left her in the awkward position of me being terribly close and staring up at her."I, I will listen," she muttered."I would like to know if you are pregnant," I asked very softly. Yes, she was, but she didn't want to tell me. She contemplated pushing past me. It would be very easy. "I know I am stepping beyond the boundaries between warriors. Please. My destiny has brought you two together. I am at fault here." 'Fault' was the key word."If I have a son, he will be given to the Queen," Tavi's face was stern and unforgiving. "He will live.""That's not what he's worried about," I shook my head. "He wants to be a father to your daughter, Tavi. He wants to introduce you to his mother and grandmothers, maybe his sisters too, if that can be arranged.""Huh?""He is not like me, Tavi. There is no other in his life, but you.""I, I will not leave my House for him," she protested angrily."He would never ask you. That doesn't mean he doesn't want to remain at your side for years to come. He can be a father to your child and not be a part of House Stolgos in the same way you can be a mother to your child and not be a part of Clan Tomorrow.""Oh," she furrowed her brow. "How would this possibly work?""I have an 'in' with the Queen," I winked. "I'll work out something.""He knows I will never stop being an Amazon," she elucidated intensely."Absolutely. He is an intelligence operative after all. He's figured a few things out for himself.""Why doesn't he tell me these things?""Tavi, he threw his body on top of me to shield me from a bomb blast, so he's undoubtedly brave, but telling you what is in his heart is scary for him. As his brother, I see behind his silence,""Oh, what should I do?" she was vexed."Go back in there, demand to speak with him and tell him the truth," I stood up."The truth?""That you are going to have a little StolgosTomorrow-ite running around sometime next year," I exuded confidential friendliness."Cáel Ishara," she tilted her head slightly, "you don't know much about infants, do you?""Nope," I pseudo-confessed. I actually did know something about newborns. I'd studied up so I could make a move on a cute girl whose free time was eaten up by babysitting, so I 'helped out'. Oink."They aren't 'running around'," she turned to head back into the gym, "until the ninth month at the earliest. Normally, running doesn't happen until the eighteenth month.""My fiancée has a three-year old, so she should be able to help me through some of the hardest parts," I babbled along. Tavi didn't give a crap.In we went. Tavi stormed straight toward the bevy of Amazon babes concentrating on 'her' Chaz."Color Sergeant Tomorrow," she abruptly interrupted. "A moment of your time.""Ladies," Chaz uncoiled himself from the surrounding women. The Amazons were either mildly put off, they thought they were about to get laid, or pissed off, they were sure they were about to get laid, and Tavi was stomping on their happy."Yes, Ms. Gentry," Chaz linked his hands behind his back in a 'rest easy' stance. 'Gentry' was the fake last name Tavi used in the outside world. She motioned toward the windows with her head. Off they went. I couldn't hear what was being said, but my lip reading skills were up to the task.T: (I am pregnant)C: (I love you)T: (Oh) ~ stunned. Go Chaz!C: (Well, I don't imagine the Amazons have a marriage ceremony and an Anglican service would be inappropriate, so perhaps we could research a Scythian ritual which could make both families happy) ~ delivered in the patented smooth Chaz style.T: (Marriage? To you?)C: (I will not submit to being anyone's slave nor would I ever ask you to submit to me. Outside of that, will you be my partner and my partner alone until the cliffs separate us?)T: (Amazons are not monogamous)C: (I am)T: (I will, I mean, can I think about this?)C: (I am not going anywhere, Tavi){Pause}T: (Did you put Ishara, Cáel Ishara up to this?)C: (Yes)T: (Why?)C: (I imagine he explained what I am feeling better than I could)T: (Oh, do you want me to meet your mother and grandmothers?)C: (Absolutely)T: (Okay)C: (Okay ~ you would like to meet my Mother and Grandmothers?)T: (No, yes, I mean, yes I would like to meet them and I am okay with you being with no other woman until the cliffs separate us, and I will do the same, no other males)C: (If I pick you up, hug you and kiss you, will your sisters freak out?)T: (I don't know)So Chaz swept Tavi up until her head was higher than his (a feat, considering their 8" height differential) and kissed her deeply. Mumbled words followed. Tavi wrapped her legs around Chaz's waist and out they went. Around me were angry murmurings of the 'did that Amazon just run off with our man' variety. Not my problem. I had plenty of different Amazons wanting my attention. Hallelujah!{8:00 pmDon't try this at home.I covered my face with a pillow and pressed down hard. I'd already tried breathing exercises, meditation and even contemplated more cranial trauma before thinking up this particular crazy idea. It took some mental effort and accessing some of my Alal-'pain sorting' skills to accomplish, but in the end, I felt myself 'let go'.I sat up."Hello," Tad fi beamed."Hey," I took a deep breath. Since we were talking, I must have passed out. Her eyes wandered over the room."Is this the world as you see it?" she wondered. Oh yeah, I had to be creating the environment for her to enjoy.Sikia was kneeling on the bed a foot away, her gaze moving between the two of us. The 'grayness' of her form suggested she was wholly in reality and not in the 'Ishara-space' the goddess had shown me and I was now sharing with my augur."This is how you see me?" she examined her fingers, her wrists, then some long locks of her hair."You are more beautiful," I answered. The impact of my words crossing over drew her eyes back to me. It was the magic of hearing for the normally deaf girl. I concentrated, peeled back some fantasy and attached a realistic form to Sikia. Tad fi followed my gaze."Your hair," she addressed her guardian, "It is lighter than I imagined."Sikia said something I couldn't understand, muffled as it was by my dreaming."I cannot hear you, but I see you through his eyes," the augur carried on her conversation. They touched. It had to be somewhat bizarre for Sikia. As she reached for Tad fi's hand, her friend intercepted the extended member. Their fingers intertwined before completing the journey to the guardian's lips."Don't cry, no, we couldn't have, no, we shouldn't have knocked him out sooner. I don't think he was aware of this discipline when we first met. Were you, Cáel?""No. Perhaps if I had understood more about the consequences of seeing ghosts, I might have," I tapered off. "Now that we know. I can try this more often.""Your health?" Tad fi worried."I might be immortal," I confessed. I was confessing because I was desperately seeking a way to share some of my genetic quirkiness with her ~ some strength to carry her through this pregnancy and spare her life, Dot Ishara be damned."And you would seek a way to spare me," she graced me with her gentle presence. Lying in the 'spirit' world was a whole lot tougher than in the flesh."Yeah. I've got some arcane lore rattling around in my head, plus I have a few outside sources I can ask for help. I'm not giving up on you.""I have foreseen my death.""Well, un-foresee it," I scolded her. "Dot Ishara told me we see what might happen, though nothing is guaranteed. So even your death isn't an absolute. Since it hasn't happened, I see no reason to let it happen. You are going to live to hold our daughter. If not, my immortality is worthless.""You can never save everyone. Sometimes you must let a few go to save the rest," she advised."If I find someone I'm not attached to, I'll let them go. I promise. Until then, I'm, ugh, I'm fading, and I'm keeping you.""We shall see," she murmured. I fell back into my body and into wakefulness."Now we have sex," Tad fi announced in a melodic voice."He is ready to perform," Sikia agreed. She was fondling my balls with one hand while her breath played across my rod. I sat up to see the augur climbing up the bed between my thighs. She kissed my glans, licked across its top, then kissed it again."I've got it from here," she told Sikia."What?" Sikia was confused. Tad fi's lips began to engulf my sceptre."Sikia, come here," I gently pulled on her arm. She was conflicted yet up some came.We started out with tender kisses on the lips. I kept drawing her toward me. My lips and tongue migrated down her chin and throat to her breasts. When she thought my target was her breasts, she was all onboard. That was a mere stop-off point on my journey, though I played around for a while.At the same time, I had to use subtle movements with my hips and clenches with my gluts to school Tad fi on her fellatio. Thankfully, I was doubly-blessed. This wasn't my first time schooling two girls at once and Tad fi could determine more from such minimal reactions due to her heightened sense of my muscle contractions through her touch than any other woman I'd ever met.When I began running my tongue in large lashes underneath her breasts, I confused Sikia once more. She was resistant as my hands on her hips pulled her higher so that my lips and teeth could tease her taut stomach while I twirled my tongue in her belly button. She giggled.I had been slowly wiggling down the bed, backing Tad fi up, so when it came time to mount Sikia on my face, I had the headboard room. I kept her muscular thighs securely in hand because the moment I had her happy, I pushed her up. She looked down, seeking guidance and I motioned her to turn around. She did the eye-ball math, realized she'd be facing her augur, and hastily obeyed. Of course, her movement on the bed alerted Tad fi through mattress vibrations.Sikia was sitting on my face, leaning down so she could run her hands through Tad fi's hair and along her face and lips (and my phallus). I kept my hands pressed between our bodies. My right made the sojourn to my pubic area to play around and give them both something else to suck on, my fingers. My left loitered around between Sikia's breasts and her clitoris when my lips were otherwise occupied.I could cup her clit with my tongue in a U-shape, rubbing it along my taste buds. Most of my time was taken up with my tongue broad lashing her vulva or tightly-twisted and delving into her cunt and my nose pushing against her brown hole. I could tilt myself up so I could make tongue-intrusions into her back passage as well. The first time, she squealed.Before she could decide if she wanted to make me stop (she did, virtually all first timers always default to asking their partner to stop, so you have to distract them), Tad fi wanted to know what had brought her reaction on. Then came Sikia's troubled revelation of what I was doing, how the augur shouldn't suffer through it, despite the increasing pleasure she was receiving, only to finally be unable to supply the answer as to why Tad fi shouldn't experience it too.Sikia shot me a treasured look of bewilderment. I'd brought her to orgasm with my tongue alone. I was a guy after all."Switch?" I suggested. Tad fi was still administering one of the slowest, most considerate blowjobs I'd ever experienced. She wasn't rushing toward anything. Sure, she was unschooled, but was devoting her incredible sensitivities to my pleasure and taking pleasure in her ability to bring me to such excitement."Change places?" she mused. "Okay." Tad fi's lips slid off me with one final, loud 'pop', then she used her spider-like fingers to climb up my body while Sikia traveled south. She lavished butterfly kisses on my face ~ childish, yet so very appropriate between us ~ and I mirrored the gesture.With some reluctance, she mounted me, facing Sikia. My tongue flicking across her clit on its first exploration brought out a joyous gasp. It only got better from there.The Long Slide Into Domestic Life:"Twins?" Hana snuggled into my arms. We were at her place, naked in bed together after a late late-night unscheduled meeting with some VIPs. Despite the late/early hour, she was alert, tense even. It had been a mentally stimulating late night encounter which had brought me to her bed."Yes. That is what Tad fi predicted," I inserted between raining kisses down on her forehead. Hana liked non-distracting attention when she was in this kind of mood. She was exhausting herself mentally as she was building up to being amorous."Ana-Călina and  rp d?" she worked over the names on her tongue. "They have a special meaning?""Only if you are Hungarian and Romanian," I teased her. She elbowed me slightly. " rp d was the semi-mystical pagan warlord who led the Ten Tribes who became known as the Hungarians ~ the Magyar peoples ~ into the Carpathian Basin, present day Hungary. Ana-Călina was born a Byzantine princess of the storied House of Basarab; she married Radu Negru, thus becoming the first Princess of a free Wallachia ~ the foundation for a free Romania. She was also the great-grandmother of Dracula.""So they are famous names with regional historical significance, did they live long, happy lives?"" Árpád, no one knows for sure. His kids were quarrelsome, but they did manage to found a dynasty at the start of the second millennia which ruled for three centuries.""Ana-Călina, yeah. I think so," I continued. "She lived into her seventies and her eldest son left his country stronger, richer and safer than when he received it. She did out live her husband by over fifty years, and got to see her youngest grandson bury most of his rivals, the kids from her husband's first marriage.""Ah, what?" Hana rose up until we were eye to eye. Since she was naked, her boobs swayed slightly as she did so. My eye flickered. "Eyes forward, Mister," she playfully barked. "What happened to all her other grandsons?""Wallachia in the 15th century was a tad rough and tumble," I evaded."They killed one another?""Mostly they were killed by conspiracies amongst their boyars, nobles of the time.""Why does, Tad fi want to dredge up these names again?" she kept eye contact."Not a clue," I pleaded."But you think it is important?""No. I think you are important. Screw Fate. It can name its own kids. We can chose whatever names make you happy, except 'Up'. Up's been taken.""You've named another of your offspring 'Up'? That's cruel, or does that mean something in another language I'm unaware of?" she shifted her shoulders so her boobs wobbled again. Of course, I broke eye contact. I hadn't had sex in hours and her boobies were right there, damn it!"Actually, Pamela and I named this secret agent in Hungary that, just to fuck with his head," I divulged."Oh. Pamela. I should have known," she slowly smiled. "You are being very well behaved," she added. Woot! She noticed I wasn't throwing her down and pawing her delectable flesh. "One more thing before the nookie.""Name them. Their dead," I pledged."Not necessary," her sigh turned into a giggle. "If I'm going to be having twins, I'm going to be rather big come late March. We need an earlier wedding date."Oh, fuck me!"What do you have in mind?" I tried to keep the creeping dread out of my voice."New Year's Day?" she suggested. I did a quick calculation. That was annihilating 78 days out of what remained of my bachelor life. In 114 days my life would cease having any meaning whatsoever. I'd be a Mr. to someone's Mrs. The end"Sure, I can arrange to be killed before then," stumbled out of my mouth."What was that?" Hana pouted."Nothing Dear. Cosmic psychic intersection with an Al -demon; don't know what came over me," I fibbed."Man up," Hana bit my nose. "Our marriage won't be that bad if we both work at it. It isn't like I'm demanding celibacy from you." Then she mouthed 'yet'."Wait. Did you mean celibacy, as in no fun at all, or monogamy, as in only 'happy time' with you?" I desperately sought clarification."Oh," she pursed her lips. "I meant monogamy. I didn't mean to scare you.""Oh, thank goodness," I sighed."Here," her gaze turned tender. "Let me make it up to you." Hana placed one hand on my shoulder and rose up my body until my face was gently nestled in her bosom. Then she wiggled back and forth, basically because I'm a big baby and easy to please. I was alternating which nipple I was kissing in no time."Mmm," she murmured. "I've missed you." Her other hand's fingernails coasted down my abdomen and found 'Mr. Happy' had risen to attention. Okay, he'd been hopping up and down on my groin since she'd said we were 'going to bed' 30 minutes ago. Hana decided wrap up my shaft with her hand, then applied a few tender strokes. I reciprocated by cupping her left tit in one hand, forming a mound with her areola at the center, and began to twirl from the outside inward to her hardened nipple with just the tip of my tongue.It was 4 a.m. Why was I taking it slow when I had my final work review with Katrina in three hours? Hana deserved this and more. Why was Hana doing it? She was her own boss, plus her life was careening wildly outside of anything she'd imagined before she'd first laid eyes on me. Half of the financial empire she shared with her father was suddenly in the hands of a military dictatorship, her beloved father was dealing with the murder of her hated step-brother and she was marrying a Prince in a European cathedral which required someone high in the Vatican's approval process to use.Yeah, her life had gone nuts. Worse, she loved me. And I wasn't the kind of man she ever thought she'd love. She'd thought she'd never love anyone again after her life with her asshole of an ex-husband and their bitter, contentious divorce. I was barely someone she could classify, and Hana was a terribly ordered and organized person. Saying my life was messy was being generous. I was some mysterious warrior-diplomat-playboy-aristocrat who hung out with people more bizarre than me.Hana picked up her tempo. I switched breasts. Her motor was really starting to hum. Any other night, I could have moved straight to revving her up to an orgasm. I had the time to make it two without any problems. A good one and Hana would be happy and drift off to sleep. Instead, I intuited she wanted more, so we developed our own game of cat and mouse with her climax, and its suspension, being our ultimate goal.My left hand danced down the back of her ribcage like playing keys on a piano. It was a light, teasing gesture. Her hair the color of tarnished gold cascaded down as she began placing her own kisses upon my crown. Each move by one partner evoked a response by the other. Hana ran my glans over her glistening labia, getting it nice and slick. I worked down her waist, cupped her ass, and then glided over her thigh to the back of her knee where I started tickling her. She snickered."You are distracting me," she murmured. I wasn't. I knew these things."I like to get the feel of every inch of your flesh," I responded. More mirthful noises from her. Slowly, her gooey vestibule rubbed against and over the top, until I felt myself entering. There, she hesitated. I propelled my hips an inch up, twisted right then left before falling back down, a micro-fuck."Ah," she emoted her approval. "My turn." Hana's knees spread to the side, making a memorable sound on the silk sheets as she impaled herself. This time she rolled her hips forward, back, then did a slow 360 with me  inside her, letting the slow progress over her spark memories for her to savor. "I never believed sex could be like this," Hana hiccupped."How so?" I knew the answer, but wanted her to put her chaotic passions to words. It would make her happier."Experimenting, silly. Stopping in the middle and doing, this," she reversed her hip rotations this time. "I never imagined a lover having such patience, or,""Yourself as being so openly sexually adventurous?" I finished."Yeah," she huffed. "I really, really owe your college professor, plus you and all your diligence, for this," at the last moment, she encountered the gateway to her G-spot. I knew precisely where that gem was. Previously, Hana had gained a vague idea where it was from the perspective of masturbation and our prior lovemaking. Now I had let Hana rediscover that joy with my cock as her tool to utilize as she wished."You realize pregnant women want even more sex," she hummed. She was vigorously working my cock now. Hana had bridged a huge gap, sexually. Normally, a woman of Hana's quality tried to please her man first with the hope her orgasm would soon follow. I was different. My greatest sexual gratification came from her ecstasy. She was confident in that now. By bringing herself to climax, she was making me excited for what would come next."That's okay," I propped myself up on one elbow now that Hana was riding me cowgirl-style. "I dig big chicks." The open-palm slap to the chest was a given."Hercege, you, you are horrible," she growled around a feral smile. The lip-biting, tongue-sucking kiss was equally vicious, primal and leading Hana to the end of her tether. Not only was Hana's sexual trust in me/us expanding, she was putting extra effort into her physical workout regime too. She might still have a ways to go to compete with an Amazon, but it was still going to be a great night."Hercegn , I am nothing but a twisted shadow of masculine lust whose every contour is cast by your muliebrous glow," I teased. Her eyes twinkled. Yes, definitely still going to be a great night."Okay," Hana yawned, "I give up. What does 'muliebrous' mean?" She'd been holding on to that for an hour and a half. It was five-thirty and I was dressing in my biking clothes before heading into work."From the Latin 'muliebri' which means 'womanly'," I answered. Her sleepy eyes drank in both my response and my physique. I had discovered another thing Hana liked and that was to expand her academic/linguistic frontiers. She was enchanted with the idea that I liked to engage her mind along with her body, sparking on all cylinders.She'd crawled over to my side of the bed, her head resting on my pillow, soaking up my scent as she watched me. I knelt down, kissed her on her ear, cheek and finally the side of her lips. Hana was beat."Have a good day and be careful," she mumbled. Her eyes closed. Her chest rose with one last, waking breath before her sleep rhythms took her."Ditto," I whispered. I snuck into  Annela's room and planted a kiss on her head as well. The craziness of my life had a way of cascading over to the ones I loved. Loved? Oh boy,7:00 am Monday, September 8th, Graduation Day!Brielle and her buddy were humming along as the elevator doors closed. Once more, my 'hellish' schedule demanded I change in the elevator. I'd gone to gun practice with my bike clothes on, so I absolutely had to change into business attire in the magic box, in front of them.Juanita adjusting my tie was a less than subtle attempt to strangle me. I was about to be late to my final 'start of day' meeting as an intern in Executive Services, so her chastisement would have to wait. Who would have thunk it? Juanita would have to wait outside for this ceremony. Paula raced with me to be the last one in, only to have Daphne grace us with the 'news':"The meeting won't start for another fifteen minutes," she grinned. "Katrina is bringing up the 'new hires' for the fall program."I finger-flicked my head. The 84 days as an intern was merely the 'training wheels' period. To really be a member of ES was at least a two year training process. The Amazons around me had started their training for this gig when they were fifteen and were eighteen and nineteen now, their ID's said they were older for legal purposes.In theory, my four years in college was counted as 'preliminary' training and provided things such as acclimation to outsider culture ~ aka 'acting normal'. Logically, I would train under someone like Desiree or Buffy for a year before being a full-fledged member of the service."How many this time?" I asked Daphne since she seemed to be in the know."Twenty," she grinned. "We are getting two."I noticed there was still only my tiny desk in Katrina's office. That meant the new guys would be out in the office pool with everyone else. Probably for the best. The ladies were now used to having a male around, so would be careful in what they did and didn't say. I yawned."Tired," Fabiola smirked."Oh yeah," I stifled another yawn. "Met an emissary from the Pope." Fabiola glowered. "No. Seriously. I met an emissary from Holy See. I let Hana know I wanted to get married in a highly improbable place, a ruined cathedral, so she contacted the Catholic Church and one of their guys wanted to meet with me.""That had to be fun," Tigger grinned. "What does the Cult of the Nazarene think of you and the Goddess Ishara?""We actually discussed polytheism and the place of an omnipotent, omnipresent being in the scope of things," I placed my hands behind my back and rocked back and forth. "It was quite interesting. The guy knew his shit."By that, I meant he was probably with the Pope's Secret Service as well as a Brainiac with a PhD in something. He'd promised to be in touch as soon as he heard back from his superiors. He had this hot chick with him who I suspected was a nun. And if his driver wasn't ex-military, it was because he was still in the service. On the plus side, Hana had been beaming when we left, which assured me the meeting had gone well, so we had sex from 4 AM until 5:30, thus my current fatigued state."Are you going to abandon your faith?" Fabiola taunted me."I don't have faith, Fabiola of Minerva. Faith would imply I don't know there are supernatural entities screwing with our lives. I know they do exist, I've met a few. To satisfy your disingenuous curiosity, we discussed the nature of the Weave and it being the possible manifestation of God's Will.""How did that go?" Paula appeared interested."He strongly suggested I should 'revisit my Catholic roots' soon. By that, I think he meant I'm supposed to start attending church regularly," I shrugged. "The Pope is sending an envoy to the Great Khan too, so odds are good I'm getting married," I pronounced the last bit as the doom-laden prediction it was."Oh, yes," Fabiola reached passed Paula and smacked me in the chest with the back of her hand. "That is for insinuating you and I had intercourse to my Mother and the Council.""Was that chastising me for lying, or for not making it so?" I winked."Ah, no!" she pouted. "Stop lying about me."I looked down at my phone."We've got twelve minutes," I double-pumped my eyebrows. "Want to go to Katrina's bathroom?""What! No!" Fabiola

A Butterfly wants to kill the World?Book 3 in 18 parts, By FinalStand. Listen to the ► Podcast at Explicit Novels.Although Love is both fire and shadow, we often forget to take comfort from the coolness of the memories when the burning flames are absentThere were precisely two things, okay, four things, keeping me alive. The fourth thing would come to her later when her 'furious was replaced by her 'curious' ~ as in how I knew her inhuman lingo ~ which would lead to my legacy with Grandpa.The top three reasons -She had poked my chest. It was a challenge, calling for one of my guardians to come out and play. The avatar knew I was the chosen heir of the Goddess Ishara and my goddess had devoted a good deal of time and effort to my survival and continued service in her cause. If Ishara made an 'appearance', it would be enough reason to not eviscerate me for my foul treatment of her august personage.Nope. It seemed Ishara was busy at the moment.Still, she most likely knew SzelAnya had shown a keen interest in me in Romania, though I'd never told Selena, or any other member of the 9 Clans, the Dragon's Daughter had killed Ajax for me. Figuring out SzelAnya, a storm deity, had helped me and Aya escape from our kidnapping in the midst of a cyclone in the Pacific Ocean wasn't much of a reach.But no bolt of lightning coalesced from my chest to singe her finger. No clap of thunder. Not even a cloud with a hint of disfavor appeared above us.Her obsidian fingernail began penetrating my shirt, touched my skin, then drew my blood, and something 'twitched'.That would be Contestant Goddess #3. She wasn't actually hanging around me. She didn't have to. She'd left me a memento of our last shindig before we parted ways. That was the nightmare-inducing episode where she, the chthonic goddess Sarrat Irkalli, had compressed one man's body into a dagger and then proceeded to suck another's soul into it to use as a power source for an Airbus 350 (a commercial airliner, if you didn't know).I still had that snaggletooth-looking thing at my back. Well who the Hell was I going to leave it with? Honestly, the only people I felt could keep it safe I loved too much to curse with it. Anyway, the second her divine claw touched my blood, the long dormant weapon whispered to me in a somewhat bored, lofty feminine voice from beyond the grave,Do you want me to discorporate this pathetic has-been for you?Quick check. Only the avatar and I, and her priestess-savant heard that. Of course, in downtown, New York City, noon Sunday, how weird would such a declaration be? The avatar's eyebrow arched. Her big bat-ears (still looking human to the normal viewing public) flicked this way and that, figuring out precisely where the threat originated from. Slowly, her once poking hand began to slide across my chest, along my ribs and around my back.She touched the dagger. Nothing.Gingerly, she drew it forth. I'd had a makeshift sheath made. As the blade made its journey around me, she took a half-step back to better observe it."Please don't kill him!" Theddy squealed. "We haven't had sex yet!"Being 'who' and 'what' she was, the avatar did what came natural. Fortunately for Theddy, I'd become accustomed to working with psychopaths.She stabbed the dagger at Theddy. I clamped my hand down on her wrist. The claws of her left hand came down on my constraining wrist. My free hand came down on that hand, trying to pry it free. It was a hopeless struggle, except.Yes, my old friend 'except'. Except the avatar was holding the dagger. As powerful as Ītzpāpālōtl was, she wasn't pushing against me. She was pushing against Sarrat Irkalli.Ītzpāpālōtl was a living, breathing terror machine who killed and received sacrifices on a regular basis.Sarrat Irkalli hadn't been actively worshipped in 3,000 years.Uneven contest? Oh yeah.See, Ītzpāpālōtl had spent the past 500 years continuously fighting against the Weave to keep her fingers on this side of reality.Meanwhile, for the most part, Sarrat Irkalli had sat upon her throne in the Sumerian Underworld with hundreds upon hundreds of thousands of souls toiling under her watchful gaze for eternity. Sure, her version of Hell wasn't getting any fresh deposits, but she knew how to milk the system well.Even the bad karma for the dagger's creation wasn't hers. She'd stolen it from the foolish Gong Tau sorcerers who had meant to enslave my soul, aka one-third of the Baraqu-Alal-Cáel deal she'd worked out millennia ago. It was the Weave giving her a 'freebie' for playing by the rules, if you considered the Weave sentient.And now Ītzpāpālōtl was touching it. Whoops. It wasn't as if Ītzpāpālōtl was stupid. It isn't like there are tons of magic weapons running around, much less soul-munchers like the one I had. Rationally, who would give a novice like me, a weapon like this? I say again, 'whoops'.Once I'd figured this out, I couldn't stop being me."Theddy, do you like girls?""What?" she squeaked. Here was this psycho trying to drive a Smilodon incisor into her bosom and I was giving her a sex quiz.Ītzpāpālōtl was really starting to struggle now."I, ah, are you okay?" she continued."Oh, I'm dandy. I'm serious. You think this chick is hot? I mean, would you do her in a three-way?" I proposed casually."Timothy?" Sovann."Bro?" Timothy to me."It's all good. Sovann, you want to know what my life is like? This lady who came to discuss business with me today is an immortal mass murderer. You give the word, I'll let go and this knife is going to cut her up like a Ginsu blade on market day because just cutting her heart out isn't going to be enough. Worse. Eventually she'll get back up.""Timothy?" Sovann repeated, this time with more concern. He thought I was nuts. I released my left hand. The blade flipped up, twisting in the avatar's grasp. That was the point her minions figured out something was wrong."El Amado?" the priestess-savant called out softly. The three goons began reaching for 'things'."Call them off, or I open my other hand," I cautioned the avatar. She spared me a swift, hostile look. My fingers tingled."Esten quietos!" she snapped. They stopped."Cáel, bad day, or not. This isn't you. Stop it. The girl's in danger," Timothy spoke up. He didn't mean Theddy. He meant the avatar."I'm being a real asshole, aren't I?" I sighed."Pretty much. You never let the bitches get to you before. Girl pops an attitude, you smile and move on. Life is too short," he reminded me. Too true."I'm going to put my hand over the blade," I told Ītzpāpālōtl. "When I do, you can let go."She didn't say anything for several seconds, even after my left hand covered the semi-serrated edge."Why should I trust you?" she sizzled."Because 'me' letting anything bad happen to you would make me a total, judgmental jerk. I don't know you. Whatever you did before you showed up today shouldn't matter to me. I acted stupidly. I should have stopped you. I didn't. I didn't even warn you and I could have. I was angry, and not even at you. Just angry and I apologize. Now, let go.""Why?""Hi. I'm Cáel Nyilas. Can I have my knife back? Please?"Blink. She released it. For a millisecond, it wanted to do something else because bitches are bitches. It didn't, so my palm wasn't sliced open. My right hand took the hilt. I carefully put the blade away."Yes," Theddy gulped."Huh?" Sovann shook his head at the sudden evaporation of the life and death tension. Welcome to my life. Theddy meant 'yes' to the 'girl-girl-guy' thing I had proposed earlier. It pays to keep things prioritized."What is this movie you were talking about?" Ītzpāpālōtl asked. Had she forgiven me for anything which had transpired? Bwahahaha, no way. She was taking the initiative and going with Option 1 from my earlier insane diatribe."Wait!" Sovann nearly shouted. "You nearly, I don't know, threatened Cáel's life and tried to stab Theddy and now you think you can go with us to a movie?""I told you," Timothy put an arm around his shoulder, "life with Cáel is rarely dull.""I thought you meant he was fun to party with, or something like that," Sovann looked up at his lover. "I thought his uncle showing up, and trying to kill him and then being blown the fuck away by those women and federal agents, and that other girl who pointed a gun at us, is this the new normal?""I love you, Sovann," Timothy grew compassionate. "Cáel is my best friend. He'd never deliberately hurt either of us and normal friends are something he has in short supply. Today being a great case in point."Ten seconds passed."The title is 'As Above, So Below'," Sovann addressed the avatar, "and what do we call you?"Since 'if you are not a worshiper and addressing me, I normally am about to kill you' would sound really cool in Olmec-ic, but I might be asked to translate,"How about we go with 'Obsidian', please?" I pleaded with her.She knew I was currying favor now ~ and behaving like a weather vane caught in the wall of a tornado ~ she gave a gracious bow of her head."Obsidian will do for now. Is the Legend of the dagger 'business'?" Translation: it had better not be."No," I smiled. "It's pillow talk." Rancor, 'how presumptuous', followed by 'but that dagger ups the count to three Goddess interested in him', and next to recalling all the trivial babble about me being a sexual dynamo (I prayed my PR was that good) having some relevance. Her chimera emotions allowed me to get a few more crucial words out, because even women who aren't sleeping with me are jealous."Esta mujer fue la primera en ofrecer bienes funerarios tras la muerte dee mi padre," I reinserted Theddy back into my close company. For some reason, Obsidian considered me unreliable thus had to verify what I'd just said."Did you make funerary offering upon his father's passing?" she asked Theddy. Let's think about this. The wacko chick questioning Theddy had tried to stab a huge freaking blade into her not a minute ago. Fleeing in terror while screaming for the cops? Nope."Yes. I baked him some walnut and caramel chip cookies," she nodded. "It is a family recipe." Sovann looked over the three of us, then back to Timothy."I told you 'that's impressive cocking like I've never seen before'," he explained."She may remain," Obsidian 'permitted'. Theddy wrapped up my right arm with her left and gave it a squeeze. She wanted attention/explanation."Obsidian is a Master Vampire, Theddy," I leaned in and whispered. "Before she was turned, she was captured in a raid by the fey, mentally, spiritually and physically raped and made into their sex-slave. Part of her spirit never healed properly. While this imperfection allows her to walk around in daylight, her heart can never hold on to any emotion for long, so she is forced to forever seek passion, no matter how dangerous, from the world around her."Revealing secrets? Ha. I had noticed Theddy had every work done by Laurel K. Hamilton in her place, including the comic book series."You are not supposed to know, so act like I didn't tell you anything, okay?"'Okay,' she mouthed back at me. I could see it in her eyes. My chaotic life suddenly 'made sense' to her because a best-selling fiction author said so.Obsidian thought the movie was; hilarious. She couldn't stop snickering, giggling and poking at me as horrible shit happened to the various actors. She thought the plot was 'insightful' and wouldn't stop whispering to me throughout the entire thing. During the closing credits, I told her I'd get her the DVD for Christmas ~ she knew the concept behind digital technology, but didn't own any ~ she kissed me.The first kiss was fierce and joyous with the added benefit of her tongue doing things no normal tongue could do, it stretched. Not sure how I felt about that. The second kiss was more sultry, longer and came with some accompanying body action which, I'm no virgin. Not even close. She was on my left side, so when she twisted in her seat, her left leg insinuated itself between mine. Her left hand cupped my jaw and held my head in place as her lips played along mine.A dance of the scorpion perhaps? Tender at first, then suddenly stabbing, dominant and brutal. My lips and tongue battled back, using my superior Kiss-fu to nullify her natural strength and agility. She liked it. By her moaning, she liked it a lot. As the kiss progressed, more and more of her flowed from her seat into my seat, body facing me. Her body rose over mine, forcing my neck back to maintain contact."So, Dot Ishara is hovering around somewhere close, isn't she?" I murmured as our lips separated barely a centimeter apart. One chick kissing you to make another one jealous. It's happened to me plenty of times. Obsidian didn't give a damn about Theddy, or any other mortal woman in close proximity so,"Yes," she purred. "Do you mate with her?""A man does not brag of such things, but no, unless heavy petting counts?""What will she do to you when I steal your seed?"'When'? Why was I not surprised? Why was I not surprised another concussion was in my immediate future either? Was it possible I was, learning?"Chastise me for not fighting harder," I breathed across her lips, "and, in case you forgot, I'm on a date with the girl beside me.""Who I care nothing for," she sent a cruelly playful look Theddy's way. Wisely, the girl shivered."Who I am indebted to and how I honor my debts might matter to you," I hazarded. My words hurt Theddy's feelings. That was on purpose. Obsidian took pleasure in me hurting Theddy because she was basically a vicious monster."Yes?" I pressed her gently."Yes," Obsidian allowed, easing up slightly both romantically and physically."And Theddy, if you believe I'm with you solely because of some sense of obligation, you clearly haven't been listening to your recordings," I shot the human girl a wink."Oh.""Am I, or am I not, a sex-obsessed little monkey?" I teased her. Theddy giggled. I paid for my diversion with four obsidian claws to my ribs outside of Theddy's view. After all, it wasn't like Theddy could possibly compete with her for my attention. Considering Obsidian's legendary ability to rip open her opponent's ribcages and feast upon their hearts, I slipped my left hand, the one next to her between her legs and stroked her cotton-slacks covered cunt.Theddy hugged my right arm and put her head against my shoulder. Not to be outdone," Qu  un centenar dee hombres se quemaron vivos como el sonido?" Obsidian inquired with sexually sadistic hunger. Ah, memories of burning 7P Commandos.Whoops. Theddy knew Spanish."No lo s . Ten an respiradores en," I replied casually. "Si lo desea, puedo describir lo que se siente al tirar de una flecha de guerra lanzar mi propio muslo.""Eep," slipped out of Theddy's lips."Why did you do that?" Obsidian looked over us both."Well, I was showing a little girl I believed in her,""And she shot you?" Theddy gulped."No. She hit the target I was standing next to. A co-worker mistook me for a cardboard cutout of a Jehovah's Witness and let fly. Seems she had issues with organized religion as well as a reaction to the oscillation effect of florescent lighting and ceiling fans.""But why did you pull the arrow out?" Theddy asked. "Couldn't you wait until you got to the hospital?""Mosquito," Obsidian menaced, insinuating Theddy was a pest."I wasn't thinking rationally at the moment, I work in an asylum, I had a hot date in a few hours, any of those three will do," I smiled at Theddy."Copil such as Cáel don't bother with petty human conventions," Obsidian turned my gaze back her way with her hand on my jaw. 'Copil's were 'god-touched' in her lingo."More than one girl?" Theddy mused."Four.""Okay," she sighed happily."Theddy, three under-age girls and the police office he was dating acting as their chaperone," Timothy intervened. "He hurried home so he could keep a promise to the children, not for sex." Bastard. He really was my best friend. He didn't mention my post-injury, pre-festivity sex with Odette giving me a few extra, urgently needed Brownie Points to suggest I might be a decent human being."You are a wonderful guy," Theddy ran a fingernail over my free hand. Clearly I was 'wonderful' enough to risk Obsidian's anger over. The screen went blank as the last credits scrolled away and the room was plunged into darkness. Five seconds later, the lights snapped on.Pain!"Fuck," I hissed. It wasn't any extra physical trauma causing me discomfort. No, a metaphysical dam had burst within and my stream of conscious thought had been turned into a white-water rapids. The competing cyclones of thoughts in my mind had stopped cooperating and my hypothalamus was letting me know I was in danger."Cáel", "Cáel", "Bro", and "Ishara" all came in rapid succession. I needed some space both tangible and social."I need to step outside," I eased Obsidian off me and stood up. My sense of my personal danger was ratcheting up. While I had been studying Obsidian, so I could screw her, I had discovered more and more Alal-badness.The light display had ignited a series of pressing implanted memories which had been clamoring for my attention. Things like not all 'divinities' were stewards of the Weave. Some even wanted its destruction, preferring risking all on a chaotic restructuring of reality over what existed now ~ things like Obsidian. They weren't attempting to do so because they thought they had no chance.But there was. A real serious chance to unravel reality existed; and it was staring her in the face. It wasn't 'me' as in 'I was the Anti-Christ'. But with the torrent of memories pouring forth, I knew where the peril lay and I was completely responsible for it. Hell, I was a prime ally of Armageddon and hadn't even known it.'Holy Shit!'I blinked. Timothy was shaking me. We were out in the lobby."Oh my God, Timothy," I nearly wept. "What am I going to do?""I have no idea what you are talking about. Is there someone you can talk to about this?" he suggested. Normal folks were around us. Obsidian was at my side. Sovann was behind Timothy with an arm around Theddy's shoulder."Theddy," I looked at her. "Can I catch up with you later? I just realized I've screwed up something fierce." I put my best 'really don't want to go but I gotta' face on. Her worried look brightened, she slipped around Timothy and gave me a tingling French kiss."I'll hold you to that, Cáel," she murmured when we parted."Timothy, go home, I got shit to deal with," I hoped my grin didn't become as feeble as I felt it to be."I," he started to say something. "Time not to ask questions?""Yeah.""Okay.""Wait." I pulled us to the side and went on to my toes, leaned in and whispered in his ear, "Tell Pamela 'he' sent Ajax to kill the Professor, his family and the sisters. They were the targets all along. It wasn't me, or the other women. Just in case,""Okay," Timothy patted my arm. It was cryptic. It was the best I could do. See, I wanted to cry so badly.{2:09 pm Sunday, September 7th ~ Last day}Where to begin:Every mythology across the globe has some creature, or creatures, which threatens Existence. Usually a God, or a Hero-God, slays the creature and everything is right with the world, except such a being, being older than Existence itself, can't really die, so they are carved up, buried ~ what have you.Illuyankamunus was one such manifestation of this underlying cancerous desire to destroy reality. He'd had a far more real child, SzelAnya, and she's never quite given up on her dad. Of far greater critical importance, she was 'part' of Illuyankamunus, somewhat in the way I was part of Alal and Baraqu. And yes, that meant all the offspring of Bolu, the guy I'd praised a few hours earlier, held the seeds of that malignant deity as well.And Alal knew it. He hadn't been killing off the descendants. He'd left that task up to a group far more capable of the task, the Egyptian Rite, who knew a fucking threat to existence when they saw it. Lest I forget, No secret society are the 'good guys'. Also lest I forget, I alone decided to go after the Arinniti sons to fulfill Vranus' quest. I had no divine mandate I was aware of nor any real world orders.Inadvertently, I had rounded up the last five mortal remains of Illuyankamunus in one place for convenient disposal in a remote Transylvanian town. The only problem was: if someone didn't get to them quickly, I was also about to whisk them into the loving (and heavy-armed) protective embrace of the Amazon Host, where the completion of centuries of culling would have suddenly become a cast-iron bitch instead of a simple disposal.Enter Ajax. Yeah, I bet the Egyptians were trying to figure out how I stopped him as well as Alal. I thought I was being clever by not telling most of the world. In fact, they most likely suspected; and the reality of SzelAnya watching over me was much more terrifying. Ishara had put a serious curse on the Amazons, yet her curse only affected her followers, the Amazons, who were fair game.SzelAnya had killed someone for me, and I hadn't been one of her followers. Thus I had committed a blasphemous act only a magician of some significant ability could have managed. I wasn't a sorcerer, but I had a cornucopia of mystic knowledge rolling around in my noggin. Trying to figure all this out was one of my major headaches.The others?I even suspected I knew who betrayed me ~ kinda. They didn't do it on purpose. At least I hope they didn't, because my odds-on favorite was my Mother by way of Captain Delilah Faircloth. Realistically, there was only one secret society who might help her against Grandpa and that was the Egyptian Rite, and they did send three people to Dad's funeral including two 'somebodies'. I'm an idiot.I'd chatted away in fluent New Kingdom Egyptian and it never occurred to me how odd it was for two of them to also be so fluent in it. Know it, sure, but as fluent as Kimberly had taught me to be? That should have been a Red Flag.The Earth & Sky had sent Iskender, who should have been the benchmark I judged the other delegations by, damn it.Three Condos? They'd killed my Dad and their guys had been flunkies.The 7 Pillars had been nobodies, which they'd proven by their inaction.Now I had to question why I had 3 actual  9-Clans  assassins at my dad's funeral too. Holy Ishara, I wasn't nearly paranoid enough.Anyway, why would the Amazons be aiding and abetting the End of All Life on Earth? Normally, they wouldn't be, but 3000 years ago, the majority of Human life did a colossal dump on the Amazons. And when they needed help, they got it in the form of SzelAnya and her dual-sex followers. I seriously doubt they told the Amazons their purpose was to resurrect SzelAnya's daddy. I imagine the Amazons didn't pry too much either.It turned out almost to be okay. During the 2nd Betrayal, the Amazons betrayed SzelAnya and almost short-circuited her plans by exterminating her lineage.Except for the Arinniti elders and Bolu. Good old 'except'.I can imagine when the Egyptians heard about the 2nd Betrayal, they figured they were 'okay'. Those wacky Amazons had inadvertently done the world a favor. Except an act of maternal love kept a slender hope of Illuyankamunus' return alive. By the time the Egyptians realized they'd been prematurely hopeful, Bolu's descendants were all over the Balkans and hunting them down had proven difficult.But, it gets worse. Much worse.When those Gods shattered Illuyankamunus, they scattered him in the relative certainty no one would ever gather the parts back together.His flesh was scattered across the land, modern day Turkey, but encompassing everything from Pakistan to Italy and Egypt to Poland. The flesh became soil, then plants, the things that eat plants, then food for humans. Get the picture.Whoops. SzelAnya had been doing just that for centuries upon centuries every time she mated with a mortal of Illuyankamunus' line and had offspring, they accumulated his energy, which made hunting down the few remaining ones easier to find, since they were 'beacons of badness', except...There were two key pieces missing which SzelAnya could never get. After all, you would think burying them on the far side of the world would matter, right?The 'breath of Illuyankamunus' ~ his cosmic fire ~ they buried in a volcano in a distant land far across the Great Sea. His spirit 'body' they imprisoned in a great river, again, across the Great Sea.But wait, it gets worse.The being standing next to me knew precisely where the 'breath of Illuyankamunus' was. Seems Mesoamerica is laced with volcanos. They'd discovered 'the breath' long ago and used it as a weapon called Xiuhcoatl. Better yet, Alal suspected she and her buddies were more than happy to reunite it with the rest if they thought the Weave itself wouldn't annihilate them for daring to do so.In their current, weakened state they were vulnerable to such a karmic backlash. In theory, a reborn Illuyankamunus would have access to power beyond the bounds of the Weave, older and more terrifying. Still, without the mortal remains to anchor the energy, giving it to the spirit would be pointless.Alal knew where the spirit body was (in general), but that wasn't the worst part. The worst part was where it was,Of all the places the Arinniti sons could have fled to, they had to choose Brazil, the burial place of the restive spirit body of Illuyankamunus. Mother-fucker.And Ildiko 'Alkonyka' aka Dusk Lovasz had sworn she'd travel to Brazil to fulfill Bolu's side of the quest in the same way I was holding up Vranus' end. If I tried to stop her, SzelAnya would know something was up. Fuck.I was processing all of this when Obsidian violently yanked me out of the way. A cabby had swerved to avoid a flurry of trash and nearly run over us. It was the third near-concussive experience in the past five minutes she'd help me avoid while she had walked by my side. I'd been mumbling like a madman."That would be my Goddess wanting to talk with me," I looked her way."I know," she gave me a clever smile."She's really not going to like that," I shook my head."I know that too," she kept smiling. "Where is your mind?""Five lives away from making the world a safer place," I sighed."Safer for who?" she purred. Where were all the bimbos? Not only was it an insightful question, it cut straight to the heart of my dilemma.What decision could I make? If I elected to help my fellow Amazons, I risked screwing with the world. In truth, I was risking everything even if I did nothing. Well Dad was always clear that things didn't change by themselves. You needed to do something that would have an effect. So, 'What are you going to do?'More to the point, I wasn't Grandad. Killing the last five of the line of Illuyankamunus wasn't 'me', so it wasn't going to be something I'd worry about.SzelAnya wanted to bring back her Dad, I could understand that. I'd have to figure out a way for her to believe this world sticking around was more important. How? Well, I had a goddess-like creature right in front of me to probe for ideas."You are an immortal," Obsidian commented. She'd been weighing her opinion for some time. I could tell by the wonderment with which she gifted each word."What? No. I can die.""No. I don't think so. Your wounds. Normally the wounds I inflict flow freely for some time. Yours have already scabbed over," her eyes flickered to the various minor scars she'd imparted to me in the few hours we'd been together.Of course, her idea was insane, Oh God No! I was in Grandad's body. Well Duh! His body was supposed to be immortal."Are you sure?" I looked deep into her eyes."You are a young immortal, the youngest I've ever met, but you are an immortal," she seemed to be convincing herself as much as me.Stupid Assumption (on my part)! I wasn't in Alal's body. I was in Cáel's. Because the Cáel soul shard was young, Alal hadn't been able to find it because it had moved through Time, to me, sonofabitch! 'I' hadn't been around for him to find. No! I was making yet another damn assumption.What did I know? When Pamela found Baraqu, it had been in an object, not a person, though she had been short on details. When the Alal-shard went to the Land of the Endless Black Sands to bring Saku back, the Cáel-shard had been in reality, so it had been allowed to create a body, 'me'. Still, the curse Sarrat Irkalli placed on Baraqu was on Alal and myself as well, which meant I might just be immortal.My Alal-mind agreed with Obsidian's assessment. In his first years, his healing had been slow, still taking days for what took mortal people weeks. I'd stupidly attributed my swift recovery to Amazon medicines, ugh. Because I got wounded more than most Security Detail trainees while concurrently entertaining two and three sex partners."Can you talk with Dot Ishara?" I asked her."Yes, but why would I?""Sex?""We are going to have sex anyway," she smiled. I'd tricked her. Set her up with the right so I could now drop her with the left."I can bring the mbo  tat  back to life," I pledged. That was not what she was expecting at all. "If you bring the Xiuhcoatl, I can bring the flesh and we can unite the three." Mbo  tat  was the Tupi name for the legendary 'fiery serpent' of the Amazon Basin. In Portuguese, it had become Boi-tat , a will-o-wisp with a confused, Christianized mythology ~ a serpent dwelling in darkness, devouring the eyes of corpses, glowing in the forests at night."Where is the flesh?" she whispered."In his mortal children," I replied."Who?""You are a monster, Ītzpāpālōtl. I'm not going to tell you and you don't have the time to drag the information out of my mind before my allies drop on you like a nuclear detonation," I drew my body tightly to her."Why would the Amazons do this?""They are not. This is a deal between you and me," I kissed her lips. I pulled back. A few seconds later she kissed me back."Why?""My grandfather had my father murdered and I would avenge him. In the end, despite my father's Amazon heritage, my 'Sisters' will let his death go unavenged for the greater good of the Host. He was a man and they will never look beyond that ~ they will never value his life as they would that of a woman.""Your mother's father?""Yes. Cáel O'Shea of the Illuminati.""We are not at war with the Illuminati," she murmured. It was a casual observation, not a protest."You are at war with Cáel O'Shea.""He was slain.""He didn't stay dead.""You know much more than you are saying," she was finally catching on."Absolutely.""I need much more than a few names to convince my kin to help," she purred, a cocktail of sexual immersion and flesh-flaying pain."I don't work for you. You are agreeing to work for me," I was hard as iron in more than one way. Why? Boundaries. She lived in a world where only the fundamentals of reality constrained her. Having a human, no matter how polished my pedigree, or how much I might appear to be 'special', tell her 'you are not the boss' in a reasonable fashion was new and very unwelcome."What would make you think that?""My mentor taught me knowledge is a curse. It is our inability to forget, and I can see into your soul, Ītzpāpālōtl. You care not one wit for the life of an assassin. But the thought of the other 'Factors' of the 9 Clans treating you as an equal galls you almost as much as the crushing reality that you need them."You have lived 500 years in chains and I'm offering you a desperate grab at freedom," I added."Your brief glimpse of immortality gives you no insight into my existence," she bristled."Oh, how many have given up? How many have decided the fight was no longer worth it and faded from the Sunlight to make their final trip into the Underworld, never to return? Do you even visit them?" I spoke with a voice tinged with compassion and loss. I pulled upon the pitiless, blank memories of a childless Alal all those centuries and imprinted on them my own fears of fatherhood and failure."How do you know so much?" she let her fa ade crack, then blow away, in the hollowness of her own sorrow. How could I pity such a monster? I could because I was me and I wouldn't surrender that to the barbaric past and most likely horrific future. I pulled her close, resting my chin on the top of her head."You are not the first, wonderful, very bright woman who has stepped into my life, Obsidian," I whispered. "You are not even the first divinity. For all the millions of differences enforced by power and time, I think love, hate and the conflict between the two wear upon us all. If anything, you face an endless parade of hope and misery. Even if you chose to ignore it, you have seen it and perhaps it leaves its marks ~ water scarring the rocks of a riverbed."We paused. I was able to peripherally scan about and realize we'd made it to Central Park ~ the Ramble and off the beaten path."Your Goddess is a fool for not keeping you closer," she murmured."She does keep me close. You have been actively keeping me from her," I reminded my guest. "She also plays by the rules, so is of limited help in my plans for vengeance."Translation: I could enlist Ītzpāpālōtl's aid while still remaining loyal to my matron Goddess. Ishara could not provide what I needed and my Amazons wouldn't agree with my scheme, so I needed her. Three hours ago, she wouldn't have considered me a worthy supplicant, much less an allied equal, yet here she was conspiring with me to shake the foundations of Creation.Personally, I was thanking Mamitu, Destiny. Had I not been having my worst Sunday ever when we first crossed paths and then acted like a total cockhead, pissed her off and led her to holding Sarrat Irkalli's dagger, thus putting her life in my hands, and not had Timothy as a best friend, I wouldn't have taken her to the movie, and my mind wouldn't have wandered down those dark corridors of Alal's memories to piece things together.Whatever itinerary Obsidian had approached me with, my abrasive behavior had forced her to it cast aside. Dagger, movie, revelations, I was now so much more in her eyes than she had envisioned."Share my need and share with me an ounce of your sorrow," I murmured to her as I gently curled my fingers in her hair and directed her head up until she faced me."The dagger," she rumbled. While she was stroking my hard-on, I knew she was using it as a double meaning."I was pinned to an onyx sacrificial table," I began my tale. We worked off pants to mid-thigh then 'got busy'. Penetration was only going to be possible by turning her around. Ground-breaking was her ready acceptance of my instruction. I leaned against a tree, then pulled her onto my lap. She guided my phallus home.One locomotion and I sunk in deep. It was warm molasses until I hit and pressed against her cervix. For a second Obsidian trembled, then her muscles clamped down tightly, gripping my manhood firmly in a vise, keeping me still."Ah," I groaned. Obsidian had her neck twisted, so we were kissing with eye contact as I described my adventures with the Gong tau sorcerers. She shot me a quick twinkle of delight, a connection. She'd relayed physical pleasure in the way I was giving her cerebral gratification, aka hope.I rolled up her shirt, and gave both nipples a brutal tweak in response. She gasped. I was applying a little 'rough' with my tender intercourse. She rolled her tush against my groin, an invitation to double-down on my nipple-play. I kept my left hand working over each tit while working my fingernails down her abdomen. As I described the terror in old Tsu's face as he shouted out 'M iyǒu! (Mandarin for 'No!') as he recognized too late the curse he was invoking. She relished the visual of the Han necromancer's terror.'Me' smacking two fingers down on her clit earned me a squeal and a small gush of fluids on my nut-sack. Her look of astonishment was something I'd always cherish. Before me, sex was something she demanded from her followers/victims and definitely orchestrated. Her partners being fearful/worshipful must have limited their initiative."A-a-a-ah, we are being observed," she groaned, her lips less than an inch from mine. It took me a second."Which direction?" I kept pumping her, strumming her clit and treating her tit like taffy on a hot Coney Island summer afternoon. Her hooded eyes flickered to our right. I gave it ten seconds. I had to get Obsidian refocused on what I was going to do to her next, in case this was innocent voyeurism. Nope. It was Chaz.Why Chaz? See, I'm an idiot. My cryptic warning to Timothy for Pamela had been good for all of one minute. He'd called her and she'd gathered what she could and come looking for me.Why was she concerned? I was babbling to Timothy then wandering off with a 'beyond-freaky' chick I had just met named 'Obsidian' who came my way courtesy of another chick with the name of Estere.Let me see, Estere was Hashashin and for Timothy to describe someone in my life as 'beyond freaky' was bad news. Timothy was seriously worried about me and Timothy was an emotional rock ~ he didn't panic. Lest we forget, I was in a federal taskforce. A quick peek into New York traffic cameras revealed me and Obsidian wandering into Central Park from the south, so in the rescue party went, splitting up and Chaz 'lucked-out'.I still had two, no, three problems. I was really enjoying my sexual excursion with Obsidian and she was seeming to truly enjoy her experience with me. Oh, and Central Park is big, Pamela had been pressed for people, so she had pressed some unlikely participants into my rescue party."He's," smooch, "my brother, by adoption," I headed off the whole idea she'd been briefed on me already."Visual, Peacekeeper Six, OS2, L-11," Chaz muttered into his headset before taking up a casual stance on the path overlooking our trysting spot. Sex with an audience didn't bother her, so, we worked out as much action from twist, turns and two inches of in-and-out motions (she liked to keep our bodies tight) as we could. Obsidian was humming along in no time. Her vaginal walls were undulating, wearing away at my self-control.Panting, not from us,"Is he o, are they, who is she?" huffed and puffed a trio of voices from Chaz's locale. Oh. Pamela had recruited my 'Hounds'.I accidently (from a timing perspective) took that moment to grind my nails into her left nipple, pinched her clit and hammered her as hard as I could. Obsidian howled. Her vocalization exited the human realm in a cataclysmic manner.The noise scared avians a mile away into terrorized flight. Cats hissed, then raced for cover. Dogs tucked tail and ran. Streetlights a hundred yards away shattered in sprays of glass. Better yet, for the entertainment of my viewing public, she lashed out with her right hand at the closest Black Cherry sapling, exploding it into a mist of sap and pulverizing the bark and wood fiber into pulp.On the downside, her cervix gave my balls an ultimatum ~ release my seed at once, or she was going to twist off my head. My cock and balls have a long history of making decisions without me. I began lavishing her. Before I finally got the feeling I was out of the danger zone. She was back to rubbing against me and purring in blissful satisfaction."Onun g zleri," whispered Belgin, one of the Turks. 'Her eyes'?"Cáel, are you aware of the alternative nature of your liaison?" Chaz coolly cautioned me. Translation: 'mate, do you know you have your cock in a demon?'"Yeah," I coughed. I had a face full of her hair. I was working on some post-coital nuzzling along with slowly helping her get her pants back up."Ininzqueoccehpa," she hummed to me, ignoring our gathering. That was 'let's do this again'."Tehuatlcochitlehua," I replied with some fondness. She studied me for a second before deciding my term was one of endearment, thus 'you are what dreams are made of', not 'nightmares'.Obsidian had another issue to deal with. Timothy would call it a righteous cocking. Whatever it was, her hold on her human mein had slipped and her inhumanity was slipping through, mainly in her glass-like, black, multi-facetted eyes and her fingers which now ended in molten obsidian talons. On the subconscious level, her predatory nature was setting everyone close-by on edge. I could also make out the high pitched, ultrasonic pipping of her chiropteran cries ~ purpose unknown.Obsidian made her way off farther into the underbrush leaving me a few precious seconds to appreciate her retreating posterior while holstering my equipment. More people were arriving. I had one more thing to take care of before, oh look, Nikita had brought her Mom along, the NYPD Sergeant."Chaz, I need to have a quick chat with Dot before I can explain things. She's been waiting and that's unwise," I looked to the Brit. He nodded."Cáel? Mr. Nyilas? Prince?" all came my way. I relaxed as best I could. Chaz went to a body blow to stagger me, then an epic upper cut to send me to Lullaby Land.Dot & the DragonessDot and SzelAnya, in dragon form, were waiting as I tumbled forward. By the state of my haziness, I knew my unconsciousness wouldn't last long."You gave her your seed," came the accusation."Yes," I staggered, "and now you should be able to track her," I pointed out the bonus part of the arrangement. No comment."I've got to make this quick, SzelAnya, I've found your father, geographically speaking," I dropped the bomb."Don't," Dot Ishara commanded. After all, she and her divine cohorts had done the killing and corpse-dividing eons ago. Undoubtedly, they'd executed their own oaths to one another to 'never reveal what they had done' as well."Too late," I shook my head. SzelAnya's attention was magnetized. "I owe you and I'm paying my debts. I'm not blind to the dangers, believe me.""You have no idea what power you are invoking," Dot's undercurrent of displeasure was the worst I'd experienced."Wrong. I've got thousands of years of Alal boiling around in my head, Plus the rest of you betrayed her 2600 years ago. It doesn't mean I have to. And now, given the chance, I'm not. Even if you kill me, she's got enough toBack in the Ramble"Really expect me to believe," Nikita's mom was growling."Man down," I waved a weak arm skyward."Mr. Nyilas, what is going on here?" the Sergeant addressed me. I was reclining in a circle of my 'Hounds'; most were kneeling. Chaz was in a tiny bit of trouble for having clocked me."Umm, thanks for coming out and looking for me. I assure you, Mr. Tomorrow did what he did as a matter of his professional duties ~ intelligence gathering." As I struggled to stand, my ladies helped me. I saw Pamela with three Hounds coming up fast from one direction and Virginia with three more coming from the other. The gang was all here.The mutterings in non-English tongues suggested a bit of explaining was already going on."You've been bleeding," Nikita pointed out with an unspoken 'again'."This?" I pulled my shirt out and looked at the first bloodstain of my encounter. "This is the just the start of the bad news." I shed my windbreaker and then t-shirt.The professionals shouldered aside the others to take a closer look."All of these are from noon and less than an hour ago," I identified the damage. Sarge was skeptical. Chaz, Nikita and Virginia less so."They look older," the senior lawman noted."I've been curious about that," Chaz frowned."I've inherited my Grandfather's curse. My soul fragment was in the 'Here and Now' twenty-three years ago while his was, 'over there', so I was allowed to come into creation. According to my recently departed guest,""You are immortal," Virginia mumbled to finish the thought. Had the speaker not been a member of the FBI, who knows how the thought would have been received."From the memories I've been gifted with," I tapped the tiny divot on my forehead, "his healing abilities started out rather slowly too. I certainly don't want to test this theory, so no worries there," I scanned the group."How do you explain seeing your Grandfather in Hungary and again in Rome?" Virginia wondered."Again, that woman who just left," I got out."Was no woman," Nuray, another one of my Turkish Hounds interrupted. "Her eyes..." she tried to explain, "and look what she did to that tree," she pointed to the greatest piece of evidence of supernatural wrongdoing. The other two witnesses nodded."We all saw the same thing. Her eyes were, bottomless, definitely not human," Belgin affirmed. The veteran players looked to Chaz."She had a collapsed nose-bridge, lacked a blink response, her dental work was carnivorous and her tongue was extremely clipped and showed prehensile qualities," he reported calmly. Pause. Chaz was a freaking intelligence operative, after all."If her hands were a type of glove weaponry, I've never seen it s like before. While I know it is possible for a human to exert the force-pounds necessary to snap a two inch diameter tree trunk in one blow, it is a rare skill and requires intense discipline. This appeared to be done spontaneously, without preparation of any kind and as a reaction to other stimuli," he added."It was also your assessment he needed to be knocked unconscious?" Nikita's mom countered."Mr. Nyilas' psychological constructs are something the whole team has to work around. At times, he seeks 'insight' from his mind in a deliberately unconscious/non-sleep state," he replied."He claims to be talking with spirit powers. I know when he returns to consciousness, he delivers useful intelligence. I'm not a psychologist, psychiatrist, or psychic. I don't know why his mind functions that way. I do know results. And I know I work with people who would achieve those results by other means if it were at all possible. Since we haven't found another method, we accept that from tim

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This chapter begins to highlight the optimism of the Coalition approaching the Battle of Austerlitz. We also experience a rare crossing of the major characters, Nicholas and Andrei. While Nicholas was riding with the Pavlograd Hussars, Boris was serving more comfortably with the Imperial Guard, accompanying Czar Alexander as he traveled toward Olmütz, Moravia, a mostly German speaking enclave of the Holy Roman Empire that sits along a tributary of the Danube River. The allies were uniting in their largest numbers with plans to square off against Napoleon's Grande Armée.   Kutúzov's forces already reached Olmütz while the Guards were stationed 10 miles away.  All units were preparing to be reviewed by Emperors Alexander and Francis II.   Nicholas receives a note from Boris, informing him that Boris arrived with the letter and money from his family. Nicholas was elated as he was dire need of funds and set off at once to find his childhood friend. Rostov's unit was no longer on the run, so his camp swarmed with sutlers (civilian merchants). The Hussars held feast after feast, celebrating and receiving honors. Nicholas attained a promotion to cornet, a relatively low officer's rank.  He also had to buy Denisov's horse, “Bedouin,” after his trusty “Rook” fell in battle. With such expenses, he was in serious debt.  Nicolas is over asking himself – Why am I Here? The morale of his unit infused him with a proud spirit, as he never obtained any personal glory. Nevertheless, he proudly dons his crumpled hussar cap and shabby cadet jacket.  He wishes to appear more seasoned than anyone he will come across.   Commanded by Grand Duke Konstantin Pavlovich, the Imperial Guards made their march west as if on a pleasure trip, with knapsacks on carts and the finest of provisions from Austria. While supplies to Russia's fighting regiments was notoriously poor, the Austrian authorities made sure the Imperial Guard and Emperor were well taken care of.  Everywhere they stopped, bands and fanfare welcomed them and a grand ball was organized.   Boris had marched along and been quartered with Berg, who was promoted to Captain, mostly for competently arranging financial matters. Berg was rising in accord with his ambition.  Boris also had his eyes on advancement, making acquaintance of many of influence. He received a letter of recommendation from Pierre and become acquainted with Andrei, through whom he hoped to gain a post on Kutuzov's staff. Nicholas finds Boris & Berg sitting, clean and neatly dressed, at a table in tidy quarters, playing chess. Nicholas enthusiastically greats them and imitates their old Nurse's mangled French, saying “Petisenfans, allay cushay dormir!” Meaning, Oh children, go to sleep. All can immediately spot how much each has changed. They had not met for half a year and each young man had taken such important steps along life's Road.  Boris rose to meet his old friend and Nicholas initially resisted because he wanted to roughhouse with Boris. Still, Boris acted in accord with etiquette , embracing Nicholas and kissing him three times. They then boisterously exchanged greetings and took notice of the attractive German land-lady. Nicholas points out how both his friend had become dandies.  Soon they ordered wine. Boris soon asks Nicholas about his experiences and if he has been under fire. Without speaking, Nicholas smiled and shook the cross of St. George fastened to his uniform and showcased his  bandaged arm. The background of this award is significant as St. George (of Cappadocian Greek origin) was a 4th Century Roman Soldier who converted to Christianity and was martyred when he would not recant his faith.  There is also a legend he slayed a dragon when a lovely princess was going to be sacrificed to the beast. Paintings and awards often depict his symbolic victory over evil. The figure and tale holds immense significance in Russian history.

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Bagration's men held off the French for as long as practical and retreated in the darkness. The goal was to fight until the sun went down.Tushin accompanied the working guns and encountered officers as well as some wounded. He was overwhelmed with grief, having come down from his heroic effort.  Orders were to leave the wounded but those affected felt it best to keep up with the retreat. Among the injured was Nicholas Rostov, pleading for a seat on the gun carriage. Tushin gave him a spot.They reached the village of Gruntersdorf and heard a nearby skirmish that repelled the French for the final time. Sounds from a gloomy river were overshadowed by hoofs, wheels and groans of the wounded. The soldiers became agitated amidst confusing orders. All remained stationary on the muddy road and fires were lit. From pain and cold, a feverish shivering overtook Rostov. His eyes were transfixed by the dazzlingly red fire. Tushin held great sympathy for the young man. Other soldiers appealed to Tushin for courtesies such as a spot at the fire, water, or moving his carriage a trifle, all which he accommodated. In contrast, two nearby soldiers quarreled over a boot.Tushin was summoned by Prince Bagration, who was nearby with other commanders. Bagration was offering platitudes and getting updates. His gathering included the stubborn general who was in the standoff, who was now flushed by vodka and enjoying dinner. Also present was Zherkóv and Andrei. In a corner stood the accountant, shaking his head. It dawned on him that he had no place on the battlefield. Close by was a French colonel taken prisoner.The general in the standoff relayed what he had wished to have done. “When I saw, Your excellency, that their first battalion was disorganized, I stopped…and thought: ‘I'll let them come on and will meet them with the fire of the whole battalion!” So much chaos enveloped the situation that he convinced himself of what he said. Zherkov joined in the congratulatory banter. Bagration praised all divisions but inquired how the guns in the center were abandoned. He turned to the staff officer initially sent to Tushin, who could only relay how contentious the battle was. Tushin then presented himself. While Tushin was Herculean in the field, he was rendered timid. He stumbled over a captured French standard and was laughed at. Confronted, he felt undeserved guilt and could only offer, “I don't know... Your excellency... I had no men.”Andrei came to his defense, noting he found most of Tushin's men and horses knocked out, two guns smashed, and no support. He announced, “We owe today's success chiefly to the action of that battery and the heroic endurance of Captain Tushin and his company.” Andrei left the table and depression enveloped him over the reality of war being so unlike what he envisioned.This section closes by centering on Rostov's thoughts as sat by the fire. “When will all this end?” Rostov closed his eyes thinking rest could quell his pain. He envisioned his mother's care for him, Sónya's love and Natasha's laughter. He compared this to current life, which included Captain Denísov as well as Telyánin and the affair over the stolen money. When able to sleep, nightmares would manifest that soldiers were pulling his wounded arm. He opened his eyes and noticed flakes of snow. “There is no one to help me or pity me. Yet I was once at home, strong, happy, and loved.” As Rostov absorbed the snowflakes and reflected on winters at home. He thought of his gliding sleigh, fur coat, and affection of his family. “And why did I come here?”The next day the French army did not renew their attack and the remnants of Bagration's detachment was reunited with Kutuzov's army.

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The 1790 Siege of Izmail is profiled as Tolstoy builds this experience into War &Peace characters who advanced to leadership roles, most notably General Kutuzov.The Siege was led by General Alexander Suvorov against an Ottoman stronghold near the mouth of the Danube and along the northwest coast of the Black Sea. The Russian and Ottoman empires spent centuries fighting for influence in this area.  The loss of Izmail was a factor in the Ottomans leaving the North Black Sea region.  While the Turks withdrew, the Muslim population who remained evidence their legacy. Kutuzov played a pivotal role in the Siege and was almost killed. He both trained and led a contingent of men across a formidable moat to approach the fortress.  Once the walls were actually reached, improvised ladders were utilized by Cossack reserves. Kutuzov himself fell back on multiple occasions and persevered as bodies fell around him. Notably, Kutuzov did not captain from the back -- but was in the thick-of-it as much as anybody. His generalship contributed to his rise in rank.  He proved he could lead men to victory, even when they faced the gravest of odds. Throughout the ordeal, the invaders took tremendous casualties from cannon fire. Once Izmael was breached, the Russians unleashed a savagery whose reputation has endured.The War of the Third Coalition (1805) was a monumental loss for Russian forces, while the Siege (1790) was moment of national triumph, which was immortalized in poetry and song, including “Let the Thunder of Victory Rumble.” Tolstoy notably describes the fictional Timokhin (who led a mad charge against Murat's attack at Shöngrabern) as a veteran of IzmailIt is the character of the men at Izmail (both brave and savage) that Tolstoy is trying to extoll, which would have been more apparent to late 19th century readers.

The infantry regiments caught unaware scattered in the woods amidst the French assault. Soldiers shouted, “Cut off!” - a most dangerous sentiment.  “Surrounded?! We're lost!” was the collective reply.The General realized something that he, an officer of 22 years, would be held responsible. He forgot his standoff with the cavalry colonel.   Tolstoy notes, “The moment of moral conviction, which decides the fate of battles had arrived.  Would his soldiers attend to the desperate voice of their commander or continue their flight?” Despite his shouts, the soldiers continued to run about in a panic.Nevertheless, there was a sea-change! The French disappeared as a special unit emerged from the woods -- Timokhin's company, filled with sharpshooters.Timokhin was previously singled out by Kutuzov for his participation in the Siege of Izmail in 1790.   He recalled Timokhin had a penchant for drinking but was a good man.  Tushin and Timokhin are fictional, but symbolic to how the Battle of Shöngrabern was a success.  Timokhin, brandishing a sword, rushed at the enemy with such a mad determination, it inspired the rest.  His behavior was reminiscent of the historic Siege, which has honorable and horrific aspects. The effort repelled the Ottomans from a critical position.  After taking heavy casualties, Russian forces rampaged the City. Many were raped and executed. The massacre troubled Kutuzov's soul. The story turns to Dólokhov, who also possessed the fighting spirt that repelled the French. Dólokhov, running beside Timokhin, killed a Frenchman and seized a surrendering officer – who he dragged to a superior. Dolokhov brazenly approached his commander. “The whole company can bear witness. I beg you will remember this!” Dólokhov then untied his handkerchief and exhibited his wound. The story moves to Tushin's battery. Critical support had been moved yet this battery continued firing. The French could not surmise anyone would fire from such an undefended position. The French eventually countered but Tushin was absorbed in the task before him and his artilleryman admired his resolve. In a childlike glee, the men only noticed when balls fell among them, tearing apart both men and horses. The horses were replaced and wounded carried off, as their four guns turned against ten. Tushin's companion officer had been killed and 17 of 40 from the battery were casualties.  Still they were merry. Tushin was in a feverish delirium.  It seemed so long ago since he fired the first shot. He regarded the corner of the field he stood as familiar. He gave his guns nicknames. “Matvévna, dear old lady, don't let me down!” He imagined himself as a god throwing cannon balls. Around him, his crew bustled; and they all looked at Tushin as a father.Suddenly a voice of a staff officer yelled out: “Captain Tushin! Are you mad? You have twice been ordered to retreat...”Tushin was taken out of the zone. A cannon ball caused the officer to duck. As he galloped off – he shouted “Retire! All to retire!” A moment later, Prince Andrei arrived. As one ball after another landed, he felt a shudder. He delivered the order and tried to have the guns taken.  Andrei and Tushin did not speak -- as both were busy securing the only two working cannons on a cart and moving them down a hill.Andrei then told Tushin. “Well, till we meet again...” holding out his hand. “Good-bye, my dear fellow,” replied Tushin. “Dear Soul! Good-bye, my dear fellow!” and tears suddenly filled Tushin's eyes. 

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Andrei examined the position of the French, focusing on a puff of smoke from the cannon that fired. Two mounted Frenchmen galloped up the hill while a small column headed down to strengthen their front line. Another puff appeared and it was clear - the Battle of Schöngrabern had begun!A messenger just arrived with Bonaparte's stern letter and Murat, humiliated, moved his forces to attack the center and outflank both Russian wings, hoping for a quick victory before Napoleon's arrival. Andrei was reflecting on how his chance arrived to save the army! Tolstoy is asking us to consider if one man can accomplish this. Also worth considering: Was Napoleon more able to get men to this mindset? Or, are men led to victory by a more passive leader, like Kutuzov's depiction? Tolstoy argues victors will also need Providence or chance. Who prevails is often impossible to know -- yet how we search for causes! Not long before, the men had been enjoying a welcome respite - eating porridge and drinking vodka. Now, impending death was heralded by the movement of soldiers forming ranks. On their faces, Andrei recognized the eagerness that filled his own heart. It was “dreadful but enjoyable!” He demonstrated both confidence and ambition in thinking, “where and how will my Toulon present itself?” Andrei noticed Bagration riding toward him wearing a Cossack cloak. Bagration recognized Andrei, who conveyed what he thought would be the proper strategy. Bagration remained stoic. Andrei wondered, “Is there anything at all behind that impassive face?” Bagration's posture implied that everything that took place was exactly in accord with what he had foreseen. Andrei noticed Bagration's saber, which was a gift from Gen. Alexander Suvorov. This detail is meant to show the historical connection between the generals as Bagration, during campaigns in Italy, was a trusted protégé of Suvorov.Bagration headed toward Túshin's battery. Andrei followed, along with Zherkov and other officers. Riding with them was a civilian with connections —an accountant. He was a stout, full-faced man with a naïve smile. He looked unusual among the hussars, Cossacks and adjutants. “He wants to see a battle,” said Zherkóv “but feels a pain in the pit of his stomach.” Enemy fire soon struck ground near them and a Cossack crashed to earth with his horse.Cossacks, many from territories in Ukraine, suffered in high casualties. They expected to be rewarded for their service, with increased rights. Instead they found their rights diminished and felt marginalized. Many developed quite the national identity.Prince Bagration did not demonstrate concern over the causality. He turned as if to say: “Is it worth-while noticing trifles?” He reached the battery and observed gunners working their cannons. Bagration called to Tushin, who replied with an awkward salute - looking like a priest giving a benediction. Though the original plan was for Túshin's guns to strike the valley, he was firing at the village of Schöngrabern, in front of which masses of French were advancing.It is profound that Tushin, a fictional character, is attributed making this critical decision. Tushin decided, “Lets hit 'em in the most sensible part!”  “Very good!” noted Bagration in reply to learning what was happening. As Bagration examined the battlefield, he noticed French coming around the flank to the right and ordered two battalions to reinforce the vulnerable area.Adjutants rode up with a messages on where the French were attacking and being contained. There was back-and-forth with these types of updates. Andrei was able to hear Bagratión's colloquies and, to his surprise, noticed no orders were really given. This was not necessary historically accurate, but Tolstoy depicts it this way to show a “greater truth.”Bagration made it appear that everything was done by necessity, or by the will of subordinate commanders AND if not by his direct command, at least in accord with his intentions.Andrei realized that ALL of consequence that happened was due to chance and independent of the commander's will. Nevertheless, owing to the tact Bagration showed, his presence was valuable. Officers who approached him with disturbed countenances became calm. Soldiers greeted him gaily and grew more cheerful in his presence and were anxious to display their courage.

This episode initially exams the lead-up to the Battle of Schöngraben.  Murat and Lannes had led the capture of Vienna. However, Vienna was a symbolic prize as it was taken at the cost of pursuing Kutuzov and crushing his army.  Murat moved on towards the Austrian town of Hollabrunn to cut the Russian line of retreat and prevent them from reaching Znaim (Znojmo - a Czech city). Kutuzov was ultimately headed toward Olmutz (Olomouc – another Czech city). If Kutuzov could remain on the front-foot, he would link up with his Austrian allies. Upon leaving Krems, Napoleon and Kutuzov were fighting with their “feet.”Kutuzov assigned Gen. Bagration to lead a rear guard of about 5-7K, meant to hold off the French. Murat (with about 10K) initiated a second gambit. He proposed a short truce as he was not sure of the size of Bagration's forces and if it was combined with Kutuzov's. Murat sought reinforcements of his own. His strategy was to hold all soldiers in place under the notion peace negotiations might head-off the impending battle. A separate Austrian contingent, under General Nostitz, accepted a similar offer and withdrew from Hollabrunn itself. Historically, Murat's terms were presented to Bagration as “Capitulation Offered by Russian Army.” It involved Russian forces leaving the field with their arms and heading home.  Napoleon realized only the Czar could sign off on the entire army leaving. This was conveyed to Murat, who was compelled to attack. To Kutuzov, the delay was a godsend. His main force could get further ahead of the French but he would likely have to sacrifice his rear-guard. This chapter places us within the truce. Andrei had just toured the camp at Schöngrabern, during which he encountered the fictional artillery commander, Captain Tushin. Scholars attribute intelligent decisions to Bagration in positioning his troops and using the terrain. However, Tushin will emerge as the hero. Tolstoy captured the nobility of the unknown soldier. Tushin is, in essence, the forgotten man that gives his all to a cause. Tolstoy also uses Tushin to present the role of the unknown, or chance, in war. Tolstoy posits: How much can we know about a cause we try to attribute reason to?Andrei made his way up to a battery from which the field could be seen. He could see how Bagration positioned his forces. On the opposite hill, was the village of Schöngraben, where French troops were amid smoke from their campfires. Andrei developed the skill of being able follow military movements and picture forthcoming events – and summarize them for a commander. Here, he noticed: his right flank was posted on a steep incline -- which dominated the French position. Infantry were stationed there as well as dragoons. The French line appeared wider and he recognized Bagration could be outflanked on both sides.  Behind many of the Russian forces was a steep dip, making it difficult for artillery and cavalry to retire. Andrei thought it would be best to concentrate all artillery in the center and withdraw cavalry to a better spot.   Andrei then noticed a friendly conversation coming from a newly constructed shed. He was struck by the sincerity of the voice who turned out to be Tushin. “No, friend - what I say is that if it were possible to know what is beyond death, none of us would be afraid of it." Another, a younger voice, interrupted - “Afraid or not, you can't escape it.” “All the same, one is afraid!,” interjected a third. Discussing of the nature of death before impending battle is quite poignant. These men are taking life as it comes, with grace.They continue such banter by incorporating an artillery soldiers penchant for liquor and snacks. Just as Andrei realizes, with pleasure, “that's the captain who stood up in the sutler's hut without his boots,” there was a whistle of a cannon and the ball thudded into the ground near the shed with super human force. The ground seemed to groan at the impact.  Immediately Tushin, with his short pipe in the corner of his mouth, rushed out of the shed to face the danger.

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This episode is final installment with Prof. Mikaberidze. He discusses the nature of the Holy Roman Empire (HRE) and how the Napoleonic Wars, at least politically, marked Medieval Times giving way to Modern Age in Central Europe.  Before 1805, was no Germany but the HRE, a commonwealth of over 300 subdivisions of mostly German-speaking states. This included kingdoms, free states, duchies, and bishoprics.  The Emperor was elected by nine rulers of the more influential states. From the 16th Century onward, each Emperor came from the Habsburg family, which resulted in Habsburgs running Austria and overseeing the Empire.  Austria, Bavaria, Saxony, Baden, Württemberg and Hanover where among the more influential states.    The relationships of the panoply of states was impacted by competition and alliances in accord with tastes of the times.  Each state was generally self-sufficient. If the Emperor requested, troops could be sent for a common cause for a delineated term.  Importantly, there was not a Germanic army loyal to the Emperor. This was their “separation of powers." Other large powers exploited this -- as French Kings did during the 30 Years War and Napoleon did as well.The HRE existed for about 1000 years, if you measure it from Pope Leo crowning Charlemagne in 800 A.D.,  or 850 years from Pope John XII crowning Otto in 962.  In any event, it all ends in1805, in the wake of the Battle of Austerlitz. Through victory, Napoleon restructures the old institution into something new, namely the Confederation of the Rhine, which had 39 states.We also discuss the “Glorious Retreat,” a term the professor uses in an ironic sense. This phrase was born in 19th century Russia and heavily promoted in Soviet times, where Kutuzov was extolled as a genius.  Granted, what is depicted in Part II of Book I was a wise retreat where Kutuzov never allowed his forces to get out-worked and surrounded like General Mack at Ulm. However, the events of 1805 were a significant loss for the Russian Empire with minimal “glory” A re-characterization was the method to find a silver lining. The Russians promoted their continued escape and placed the blame on “treacherous” Austrians.  They cherry-picked certain efforts, like in Krems, and celebrated Bagration.  The Professor also touches on how formal military rules were flouted, and officers, at times, would travel with their wives, and come up with creative excuses for the breach.  Prof. Mikaberidze later gives an overview of some of the various Cossacks to populate the Russian Empire in the early 19th Century.  He also references whether Napoleon missed an opportunity of allying with the population of territories taken by Russia during the partitions of Poland (the final one formalized in 1797), which was within memory of much of the population Napoleon encountered when he march East. For example, when reached Vilnius in 1812, he was met with widespread acclaim.   He also marched through (what is today) Belarus and northern Ukraine. As some of these areas were acquired forcefully 20 years before, Napoleon may have been able to recruit more of the local population with skillful outreach.  It is also an interesting question as to whether masses of Ukrainian and Lithuanian peasantry would have assisted him.We close by discussing the transcendent nature of War & Peace.

Kutuzov is presented with a choice while the French advance toward Krems: (1) abandon the main road or (2) continue toward Ölmutz. Each is fraught with peril and he chooses the latter. It was in this direction he had sent Gen. Bagration, who Andrei (off-book) convinced Kutuzov to allow to join. In the previous chapter, Kutuzov steadfastly refused the request, under the belief Bagration would be decimated.  The idea was to march rapidly and fortify a position, engage the French, once again allowing the main force to retreat.   This involved a 30 mile march where Kutuzov willed his men to reach the town of Hollabrünn before the French. The maneuver also allowed supply lines to be secured. One may ask: What is the purpose in depicting what seems like military minutia? While War & Peace is known for it's victorious ending, showcasing the War of 1812, much of the body of the work, explores the ideals the French introduced through the Napoleonic Wars, which led to changes in Russian Society during Tolstoy's life. This includes ideas brought forth during the failed Decembrist revolt of 1825. Tolstoy was writing from the perspective of having served in the Crimean War (1853-56), where Russia was humiliated and forced to reform. Tolstoy was able to witness the emancipation of the serfs who were conscripted in the battles (both minor and great) that War & Peace depicts.Gen. Joachim Murat, fresh from taking Vienna, reached Bagration's forces and proposed a 3-day truce. Murat was thought to be hesitating while waiting for reinforcements. In hindsight, Murat is viewed as having been in an advantageous position. Murat may also have been thinking that peace negotiations were under way and that risking men in a fierce battle was unnecessary. Bagration communicated the offer to Kutuzov, with both understanding the advantage. Foremost, it allowed for necessary rest. When word reached Napoleon, who was relatively close at Shönbrunn Palace, he sent a messenger to chastise Murat. He ordered the truce be rescinded and set out to the front. Chapter 15 takes us into Bagration's division, where we find Andrei. Bagration gave Andrei the choice the be upfront with him or in the rear guard.  Andrei was permitted to explore the camp by escort, as he desired to place himself where he would be of most use. At first, Andrei found a disorganized mess. He ran into Artillery Captain Tushin, who was in his tent with his boots off, which was against protocol. Tushin had a noble spirit about him. He was salt-of-the-earth and did his best to defuse the uncomfortable situation.During the truce, Andrei observed soldiers in various states, including digging trenches in minimal clothing. Andrei reached a hill from where he could observe his adversary. The closer he got to the front, he noticed an equanimity to the men. This depiction likely stems from Tolstoy's experience in the bastions of Crimea. Tolstoy is pointing out the paradox of good men who will soon be sent to kill those who profess the same religion. He captures a decency of those put up front. There was a pride and sense of togetherness. Many were dragging logs and constructing huts. Laughing and chatter could be heard. Some sat around fire, eating, drying clothes, or attending to leg bands. They behaved with a dignity and as if they were at home.Tolstoy also captures the brutality of army life. Andrei soon observes a soldier being brutally disciplined. He is naked and held down by two men, while two others beat him with switches.  He had been caught stealing and a Major was commanding the beating to continue. This highlights the Prussian discipline many Russian commanders adopted.Andrei moves on and reaches the center of the front line, where the truce envoys met. He could see the faces of the adversary. Contingents on both sides jest and taunt one another. Dolokhov is in the middle of it.  The soldiers are filled with misinformation and the taunts center around Napoleon. The banter gets so heated that musket balls are propelled into the air. Eventually, the soldiers retire -- leaving each other's artillery to ominously face one another.

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For those picking up War & Peace, deciphering the context of this era is a challenge. This episode is a great resource regarding the initial stages of the War of the Third Coalition in 1805.  France prevailed over the 1st Coalition in 1797 and 2nd Coalition in 1801. Afterward, France controlled much of Western Europe, including (from today's perspective): Belgium, much of Southern Germany, Switzerland, and various parts of Italy. Spain was also a junior partner of France. Napoleon was having success pushing for a reorganization of the German states, which included the Imperial Recess of 1803. This movement threatened the centuries-old interests of Austria, Prussia, and Russia.  The War of the Third Coalition began in the Summer of 1805. The Coalition had manpower of over a half a million, but they were spread out and not organized. For example, the Coalition had a presence in the Netherlands, Hanover (Northern Germany), Southern Italy, and Prussia. The Coalition was eager to invade Bavaria, a French ally. The Austrians wanted to pressure (through force) the Bavarians to align with them. The feeling was: what Bavaria does, so will most of the German states.Gen. Kutuzov led the largest contingent of the Czar's forces and was given the task of uniting with Austrians as they pushed into Bavaria. Kutuzov initially had to cover about 900 miles to link up. He started out with around 50,000, but by the time he arrived, only half his troops remained. In September, Austrian forces made the move into Bavaria. Kutuzov's forces were expected in early October, but were late. The march was slower than expected, leaving a wide gap between Austrians and Russian forces.  When Kutuzov arrived, his men were exhausted and ill-equipped. Nevertheless, the Austrians wanted to get their allies right into the fight, especially at Ulm. Kutuzov recognized this would be fruitless and held back.Napoleon grasped the situation and attacked relatively isolated Austrians, demolishing them at Ulm. He then turned his attention to chasing Kutuzov before reinforcements could arrive. Kutuzov recognizes retreat is the best option -- to thin out Napoleon's forces. Kutuzov engages the French with his rear guard, often led by Gen. Peter Bagration.   By November, Napoleon is weaker, but still threatening.  Kutuzov was waiting for Winter and for Coalition forces to be reinforced. Prof. Mikaberidze contends that if Kutuzov's advice was followed, Napoleon likely would have lost the war in the first half of 1806.We then move onto a discussion of the daily experience of officers and soldiers, based on correspondence the Professor reviewed.  From the French perspective, there is a realization Napoleon is winning through speed. The French are stressed but were moved by a sense of elation. They feel part of something monumental. Russian officers communicated a life of drudgery. Many were sick or lagging behind and walked with boots that were in tatters. There was an utter lack of food and supplies. This was a responsibility the Austrians were not living up to.   Nevertheless, there was a sense of pride and group cohesion on both sides. Overall, Kutuzov held a reputation for treating his men decently. He made a point to visit soldiers during common gatherings such as around camp fires. He asked about their experience. He would occasionally sit down with rank-and-file soldiers over a bowl of porridge. The Professor also discusses hierarchical nature of Russian society and the Table of Ranks (there were 14 total) imposed by Peter the Great. It was adopted from European systems and held up until 1917.   One would start at bottom, and ideally (though not in practice) advance through merit and perseverance.

This episode is part I of III of my interview with LSU History Professor Alexander Mikaberidze, an expert on the Napoleonic Wars. I'm breaking our interview up into roughly 20 minute segments.We focus on General Mikhail Kutuzov, who is introduced, in-depth, to War & Peace readers in Book 1 Part 2. Chapter 13 has Prince Andrei taking in the scars Kutuzov suffered from being shot by musket balls in Crimea.Professor Mikaberidze notes Kutuzov, as a young man, was serving in the Danubian principalities, primarily Romania, and merited the reputation of a brave and capable officer who often led "from the front."Kutuzov was also known (as a young soldier) to be an unending source of jokes and parodies – the type of person helpful to making military life tolerable. However, during a night of drinking he made fun of a Commander in Chief who did not see any fun in Kutuzov's jest. The incident got Kutuzov transferred from the First Army in Romania to the Second Army in the Crimean peninsula, which was something of a demotion.In Crimea, in 1774, there was a conflict with the Turks. Part of Kutuzov's unit was ordered to attack an Ottoman fortification. Kutuzov was leading soldiers and wound up on a rock waving his men forward. At this point, he was shot in the head and miraculously avoided death. He was carried off the field and recovered. His convalescence was aided (financially) by Empress Katarina. Kutuzov was able to travel about Europe and received the best medical care in Prussia, Austria and the Dutch Republic. During this time, he met the most influential members of society, including Frederik the Great and various influential Austrians.Kutuzov escaped death again in the summer of 1788, when we he was shot, once again by Ottomans in Crimea. The projectile went through his left check and came out the right side of his neck. Part of his jaw was shattered.Prof. Mikaberidze discusses how these incidents may have affected him and Kutuzov's genuine care for those under his command. The Professor touches on Kutuzov's writings and that to Kutuzov -- being a soldier meant great sacrifice. Given the nature of Kutuzov's recovery, the famous French doctor who treated him, as well as Kutuzov himself, believed there was a sense of Providence that saved Kutuzov. This view holds Kutuzov was touched by the Almighty and was being prepared for something monumental.

Andrei embarks on his mission to “save the army,” by getting back to Kutuzov. He secures a Cossack horse and attendant and travels from Brünn to Krems. He finds himself among thousands of soldiers, who are weary. The roads were jammed with carts, horses and carriages. Soldiers found themselves deprived of food, supplies and weapons promised by the Austrians. This led to a situation where soldiers would ravage the countryside and return from local villages with plunder.The road remained a mess much of the way, with commanders yelling, whips cracking and soldiers in poor spirits. The side of the road was littered with dead horses, broken wagons and the sick or injured. Andrei had occasion to reflect on Napoleon's words: “That Russian army which English gold has brought from the ends of the Universe; we shall cause it to share the same fate as the army at Ulm.” However, Andrei senses the next battle could be his Siege of Toulan, the conflict (1793) where Napoleon made a name for himself.  Amidst the chaos, Andrei comes across an unusual scene - a drunk officer driving a carriage and whipping the driver of another who apparently “cut the line.” The drunkard yells, “Turn back with your slut.” He is referring to the woman pleading for help while her husband (a physician) is being assaulted.  The Russian Army had a reputation of allowing wives travel with some officers – though it was technically against the rules. The woman appeals for someone in authority and spots Andrei.  He bears a few insults but uses tact and his position to diffuse the situation. He soon reaches the village where Kutuzov is located.As Andrei walks around - Nesvitsky spots him, and his expression revealed the army's dreadful position.  As he escorted Andrei to Kutuzov, he inquires what Andrei knows about any truce, hoping for same. Nesvitsky reflects on how immature he was to laugh at Mack's situation. Nesvitsky also noticed Andrei was suffering from the elements -- wincing and wheezing.As Andrei nears Kutuzov's quarters, Kozlovsky (another close aide), was dictating orders that there will be battle, not capitulation. Kutuzov was in the process sending Prince Pytor Bagration to fight in the next battle. Kutuzov said, amidst tears, “Well, good-bye Prince, Christ be with you, Many blessings on Your great endeavor.”  He drew Bagration close with his left hand and with his right, crossed himself. In return, Bagration kissed Kutuzov on the neck.  Kutuzov noticed Andrei and asked him to enter his carriage. Andrei initially begged to fight with Bagration. Kutuzov diplomatically refused, knowing it was pointless. He told Andrei, “I have need of good officers with me” and that “there is still much before us.” Kutuzov poignantly relayed, “if one in ten of that division returns, I shall be thankful to God.” During the ride, the two were quite close, giving Andrei a chance to examine the deep scar on Kutuzov's temple where a bullet pierced his skull. Andrei realizes Kutuzov earned the right to speak about all facets of war, even sending men to their deaths, recognizing this as a necessary aspect of leadership.The nature of Kutuzov's infamous wound is discussed. Though not referenced in much detail, Kutuzov was shot in 1774 -- in Alushta, Crimea -- while leading grenadiers in a siege against fortified positions of the Ottomans. He was standing on a large rock waving on his men and took a musket ball to the head. He was hit between left eye and temple and the projective went thru his skull, not hitting the brain. He wound up on a pile of the fallen. His was carried off and miraculously survived. His recovery took about year and a half. He suffered another bullet to the head in 1788 at Ochakiv when Kutuzov was scouting positions, ironically with Austrians. His jaw was fractured. The ball went in around the left cheek. It only took six months before he returned to active duty.

Les Nôtres (Bilibin's clique of diplomats) were happy to open their group to Andrei and they all chatted in Bilibin's study. However, Andrei quickly took his leave for the royal reception. Emperor Francis met various officials en masse but later Andrei received a more private audience. Francis asked Andrei banal questions such as: How long was it since Andrei left the field? How was Kutuzov? and..At what time was General Schmiddt killed? Francis spoke as if it was his aim to ask questions...with the answers meaning very little.Francis II presented Andrei with an award – Admission to the Maria Theresa Order of the 3rd Class.  Andrei was soon surrounded by elites and received the attention he previously yearned for. He was now conflicted, coming to resent the splendor while men like Napoleon and Murat were in the field making a difference. As Andrei walked back to Bilibin's quarters after the ceremony, the dynamic changed when he observed his friend's coachman furiously packing.  Bilibin relayed that Napoleon's forces were marching toward Brünn. Bilibin, in his typical flair, references the historic affair at the Tabor Bridge, where French generals -- Joachim Murat and Jean Lannes -- conned their way across, along with a contingent of French forces.   Those defending the crossing, most notably Fürst Karl Joseph Franz von Auersperg, failed in their duty.   This allowed the French to take the entire capital of Vienna without a shot fired and place their army on same the side of the Danube as the retreating Austrians and Russians. In less than a month – the French would be encountered at Austerlitz.Andrei envision what he must do - namely return to General Kutuzov to "save the army!" Bilibin implores Andrei to retreat to Olmütz, where the Austrian Court is headed, as there is no mandate for Andrei to immediately return to the front. Bilibin senses Kutuzov is facing decimation. Bilibin calls Andrei "un philosophe"  a title for the kind of philosopher (usually French) ushering in a new age in the mold of Voltaire, Rousseau and Diderot. Such persons have an obligation to protect themselves for the advancement of society. However, out of a sense of patriotism, bravado as well as the pull to live up the ideals his father instilled, Andrei sets out to return to his unit.

Volume 1, Part 2, Chapter 3. Kutuzov and the Austrians discuss the war effort, when General Mack arrives with bad news from the front. Andrey is distressed. Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

Volume 1, Part 2, Chapter 2. Kutuzov inspects the regiment. Prince Andrey and his new comrades accompany the general, and the soldiers discuss the coming campaign. Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

This episode elaborates on Tolstoy's depiction of the historic retreat of Kutuzov eastward (following the Danube) towards Vienna. Kutuzov's army amounted to 35K and were often buttressed by similarly retreating Austrian allies. The first part of Ch. 9 references this march along with three battles where the French vanguard caught up with Kutuzov's rear-guard.The previous chapters mention Napoleon's mastery at Ulm, where around 25K Austrians surrendered after a brilliant encircling maneuver.   Austrians who escaped were also retreating toward Vienna. There was a notion manpower should concentrate on defending the Capital.Kutuzov's army was pursued by a significant detachment of the Grand Armée as Napoleon wished to pin them down -- allowing Napoleon to concentrate additional forces on taking Vienna.Kutuzov finds himself among an increasingly hostile civilian population. Many were prone to welcome the French rather than encounter Russians, whose necessity to live off the land wore out any welcome. On Oct. 28, 1805, Kutuzov had his army cross the Danube. This allowed him to postpone any conflicts until the Battle of Lamach on 10/31. It involved about 3,700 allies and similar amount of French. The French were led by Marshall Louis-Nicolas Davout (The Iron Marshall).  Kutuzov delegated the defense to General Pyotr Bagration. The engagement took place in a small village and involved calvary, hussars and artillery. The French won the field but Bagration held off Davout long enough to allow Kutuzov an effective retreat. The French only suffered about 50 casualties (killed or wounded) while the Russians likely experienced 150 and Austrians 400.Soon after, on 11/5 was the Battle of Amstetten. It was the first time during the War of the Third Coalition that Kutuzov's forces were involved such a sizable conflict. There were around 7K allies and 10K French. Traditional techniques were used, including using the terrain to an advantage, as well as retreats and counterattacks with reinforcements. The was a mad calvary charge led by Marshall Joachim Murat. For Murat, known for bravery and rashness -- this was not a shining moment. Estimates indicate 300 casualties for Bagration's forces and 1,000 each for Austrians and French.  Once again, Bagration gave Kutuzov's main force sufficient distance from the French. On the field, there was no clear winner.The Battle of Dürenstein then took place on 11/11. Here, Kutuzov's army achieved its greatest success to date, which provided quite the (temporary) morale boost. The allies drove off the French, who were under Marshal Edouard Mortier. Around 24K allies faced 14K French and Kutuzov's men captured some artillery, battle standards and prisoners. Each side took around 5K casualties.   It appears Mortier overextended his vanguard and paid the price, getting his men caught in a valley between two opposing columns. Overall, the Austrians took the worst of the affair as General Johann Henrich Von Schmitt was killed. Schmitt was a respected strategist, surveyor and map maker. He was likely accidentally shot by a Russian soldier, which was greatly resented.Tolstoy describes the increase of casualties. Kutuzov is compelled to leave throngs of his wounded behind, with a cordial note – commending them to the humanity of the French. The expectation was that the prisoners would be treated and exchanged. However, the countryside was overwhelmed and proper treatment was an impossibility.

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Chapter 6: General Kutuzov is obligated to have his forces fall back towards Vienna and destroy bridges that cross the River Enn, particularly at Braunnau and Traun (near Linz). On a warm but showery Autumn Day -- October 23, 1805 -- the bridge in Braunnau is focused on. Here, the Russian command is located on heights that provide a splendid view of the countryside surrounding Braunnau. This was not far from where the Enn flows into the Danube.Among the artillery guns was Prince Nesvitsky, who was treating fellow soldiers to a local delicacy (small pies) as well as some rum punch (doppel-kümmel). The men chat about what they could view, including: the throng retreating towards them on the bridge, the movement of weaponry, as well as a local castle that would be ransacked for supplies. Their attention soon focuses on a local convent believed to be filled with young Italian nuns. Nesvitsky voices how he would love to "slip in" while another contends the nuns must be equally bored to death.Kutuzov recognizes the retreat is moving at a snail's pace and that the men are in danger of being fired upon -- as the enemy could now be seen with the naked eye. Soon thereafter, Nesvitsky received orders to cross the bridge and tell a Colonel to have the Hussars cross last and destroy the bridge. Nesvitsky (along with a Cossack) left for this mission – telling his friends that he is going to “pay a visit to those little nuns.”A General soon orders a cannon fired to test the range, which he finds will also be “a little fun to relieve the monotony.” A roar emanated and the shell went overhead, but fell well-short of the enemy.  While some faces lit up at the sound, a light-hearted gaiety prevailed.Chapter 7: The French were motivated to fire back. By this point, Nesvitsky was halfway across the bridge but stuck among the crush of men traveling the opposite way.  He had been forced to dismount from his horse and was jammed against the parapet (barrier/wall). He could barely move among: men shoulder-to-shoulder with bayonets, baggage wagons, and cannons. Nesvitsky looked down and absorbed the unencumbered flow of the river, such a contrast to the chaos above.  He noticed the conversations around him. One man spoke about a fellow solider being hit with a butt of a gun in the teeth. Another referenced the need for supplies (leg-bands). Yet another mentioned facing fire for the first time. Nesvitsky then passed a German family who had a special permit to evacuate. The father was quite nervous as he had with him two beautiful daughters. The soldiers were captivated by the young Germans, with every face wearing a smile “born of unseemly thoughts.” This movement of a family fleeing with all their possessions was foreboding. Prince Nesvitsky then noticed fire from the French splash into the water. This caused the cluster to move faster. Nesvitsky was getting nowhere until he was spotted by Captain Denisov, who was told of the Prince's assignment. Denisov cleared a path with his sword and bravado ("Tell these devils, these demons, to give us woom!...Out of the way! Make woom! I will cut to pieces!...”). Denisov was absorbed in the moment, long having been ready for action.Once the message was delivered to the Colonel, it was time to cross back and get out of cannon range. Here, Denisov reconnected with some of his Hussars and the rivalry between the infantry and Hussars became apparent. Some Hussars, with their fancy uniforms and horses, essentially cut the line, and paraded -- four horses abreast -- back across the bridge. This led to insults being shouted from infantry and a Hussar splashing a soldier with mud. When an infantryman yelled, “What's the use of them? They're just for show. Only fit for a circus!,” a hussar eventually responded, “put a broomstick beneath your legs and ride-a-cock horse!”

The story moves to the small German village of Zalzeneck, a few miles from Kutuzov's headquarters in Braunau. Here, we catch up with Nikolai Rostov. Nikolai returns to camp with a small group who were foraging for hay. Nikolai is serving with the Pavlograd Hussars.  Pavlograd was settled in the 1770s by Zaporizhian Cossacks. The area was named in 1783 for future Czar Paul, with “Pavlograd” meaning “Town of Paul.” The “Hussar” designation stems from the hussar units of Serbia and Hungary in the 15th and 16th centuries. They became known for dashing attacks, elaborate uniforms, curved swords, and high causality rates.Many hussar units within the Russian empire had large contingents of ethnic Ukrainians, including descendants of Cossack officers. From 1648 – 1764 many Cossacks lived in their own Hetmanate, which had democratic standards. Cossacks were of mixed ethnic backgrounds and often runaways from the surrounding powers – including Polish, Ottoman and Muscovy/Russia. Cossacks had a sense of being freeman and led raids on Ottomans who enslaved Slavs.As Nikolai returns to camp, he is in a jubilant mood. Bondarenko, described as “the Ukrainian” offers to care for Nikolai's horse. Nikolai offers kind words though it is clear Bonderenko is in a subservient role. Further, Nikolai has the reputation of distributing generous gratuities to those who assist him.  Tolstoy recognizes Ukrainians as a distinct people – and this is notable. When Nikolai arrives at his quarters he sees the German land owner. They wish each other heart-felt pleasantries.  The host is happy to be quartering the friendly young man. Given Nikolai is from aristocracy, he is able to share quarters with squadron commander “Vasska” Denisov. The nickname "Vasska" was common for someone from a rural background.Once inside, Nikolai realizes Denisov hasn't come home, which implies he was out gambling. Denisov soon arrives and laments his losses at cards. He is in a foul mood as his servant, Lavrushka, assists helps him with his clothes and prepares him tea. Denisov wishes there were women around and also that the battle would start. He feels there is not much to do but sit around and drink. Denisov asks Nikolai to count the money in his purse – knowing the officer he owes money to is coming to collect. This demonstrates a relationship of trust and also subordination.  Lt. Telyanin then arrives and talks with Denisov about his drubbing. Upon hearing Telyanin, Nikolai hides the coins. Telyanin was described as being shifty with clammy hands.  Telyanin chatted with Nikolai about the horse he previously sold him, which Nikolai suspects he paid too much for. There was a problem with the equine's strut and Telyanin instructs that he will teach Nikolai how to shoe the beast properly. When Telyanin told Nikolai to get the horse, it gave him an opportunity to steal Denisov's purse, which had 10 coins in it.When Rostov returned from shoeing the horse, he found Denisov composing a love letter. Soon after, Denisov realized he would have to retrieve the money to pay his debt.  He flew into a frenzy when his coins were not where it should be, blaming Nikolai as well as his servant. Denisov threatened to horsewhip them both. He got physical with poor Lavrushka, knocking the servant against the wall. Nikolai interceded, saying he knew what happened and would get the money back. Nikolai tracked Telyanin down at a tavern two miles away. At first Rostov observed Telyanin finishing a meal. When Telyanin went to pay, Nikolai approached him and asked to inspect the wallet. The gazes that passed between Nikolai and Telyanin confirmed all suspicions. Nikolai found himself confronting Telyanin in front of superior officers, which was a breach of protocol. Nikolai took possession of the purse but when Telyanin pleaded not to embarrass him, Nikolai threw the money back and left.

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Durante el verano de 1943 se libró en las estepas de la provincia de Kursk, en el suroeste de Rusia, la mayor batalla de tanques de la historia. Supuso una victoria fundamental para la Unión Soviética y constituyó el punto de inflexión definitivo que inclinó la suerte de la guerra para los aliados en el frente oriental. La derrota fue devastadora para los alemanes ya que meses antes el Sexto Ejército alemán había capitulado en Stalingrado. Desde ese momento el Tercer Reich no volvería a pasar a la ofensiva en Rusia y se aceleró el repliegue hacia el oeste que concluiría con la batalla de Berlín entre abril y mayo de 1945. La batalla de Kursk arrancó como una pequeña ofensiva alemana denominada Operación Ciudadela cuyo objetivo era aplanar la línea de frente eliminando el saliente de Kursk controlado por los soviéticos. Hitler estaba convencido de que aquello era un punto débil y podría obtener una victoria a bajo coste que podría compensar en cierta medida el desastre de Stalingrado del que él era el gran responsable por haber dividido las fuerzas que se dirigían hacia el Cáucaso. Si le salía bien la propaganda nazi podría emplear intensamente la victoria para transmitir a los alemanes la idea de que seguían llevando la voz cantante y el triunfo final estaba cercano. Capturarían, además, a un número considerable de prisioneros de guerra que luego serían enviados a los campos de trabajo esclavo para mantener la industria de guerra en funcionamiento, Pero la Wehrmacht fracasó en su intento y se vio sorprendida por un contraataque brutal del lado soviético, la llamada Operación Kutuzov que perseguía embolsar a los alemanes atacando directamente su retaguardia. A partir de ese momento los carros de combate se convirtieron en los protagonistas de la batalla. Los alemanes pusieron sobre el terreno más de tres mil tanques, los soviéticos más de cinco mil. Esta vez Hitler no había podido disfrutar del factor sorpresa. El ejército rojo les estaba esperando. La inteligencia británica, que tenía acceso a gran número de transmisiones cifradas alemanas, informó a Stalin de los planes alemanes de atacar por el saliente de Kursk. Para contenerlo dispusieron una defensa en profundidad concebida para contener a los acorazados de la Wehrmacht. Una vez consiguieron detener el golpe dio comienzo la contraofensiva que obligó a los alemanes a retroceder. La derrota en Kursk no fue la única mala noticia que llegó a la cancillería ese verano. De forma simultánea a los combates en la estepa, los aliados occidentales desembarcaron en Sicilia obligando a Hitler a despachar tropas hacia Italia. Eso consumió las reservas que estaban destinadas a sostener el esfuerzo bélico en el este y obligó a los alemanes a reordenar las prioridades. Se les abrió un nuevo frente en el continente europeo que empezó a avanzar por la península itálica sacando de paso a la Italia fascista de la guerra. La batalla de Kursk se terminaría saldando con una victoria soviética. Era la primera vez desde que había dado comienzo la Operación Barbarroja dos años antes en la que el ejército rojo conseguía detener una ofensiva alemana antes de que ésta avanzase y cobrase impulso. Los alemanes, a pesar de que contaban aún con una formidable fuerza ofensiva, no pudieron atravesar las defensas soviéticas, que en nada se parecían ya a las del principio de la guerra. Para algunos generales alemanes como Heinz Guderian, la de Kursk fue la derrota decisiva, peor incluso que la de Stalingrado ya que anuló por completo la capacidad de la Wehrmacht para recuperar la iniciativa. La suerte quedó echada. El ejército alemán seguiría combatiendo casi dos años más en el este, pero tras la batalla de Kursk perdieron toda esperanza de ganar la guerra. En El ContraSello: - El infortunio de Luis XVII - La caída del imperio romano: "El águila y los cuervos" de José Soto Chica - https://amzn.to/45p3t0u - La catedral de Santiago de Compostela: trabajo de Alberto Otero - https://issuu.com/do_eixo/docs/pedras_2 Bibliografía: - "La batalla de Kursk" de Dennis E. Showalter - https://amzn.to/44o1Q1J - "Kursk 1943: La batalla más grande de la Segunda Guerra Mundial" de Roman Töppel - https://amzn.to/3shqAvh - "La Batalla de Prokhorovka" de Javier Ormeño - https://amzn.to/47JOvDX - "Operación Barbarroja" de Christian Hartmann - https://amzn.to/47NXK6c · Canal de Telegram: https://t.me/lacontracronica · “Hispanos. Breve historia de los pueblos de habla hispana”… https://amzn.to/428js1G · “La ContraHistoria de España. Auge, caída y vuelta a empezar de un país en 28 episodios”… https://amzn.to/3kXcZ6i · “Lutero, Calvino y Trento, la Reforma que no fue”… https://amzn.to/3shKOlK · “La ContraHistoria del comunismo”… https://amzn.to/39QP2KE Apoya La Contra en: · Patreon... https://www.patreon.com/diazvillanueva · iVoox... https://www.ivoox.com/podcast-contracronica_sq_f1267769_1.html · Paypal... https://www.paypal.me/diazvillanueva Sígueme en: · Web... https://diazvillanueva.com · Twitter... https://twitter.com/diazvillanueva · Facebook... https://www.facebook.com/fernandodiazvillanueva1/ · Instagram... https://www.instagram.com/diazvillanueva · Linkedin… https://www.linkedin.com/in/fernando-d%C3%ADaz-villanueva-7303865/ · Flickr... https://www.flickr.com/photos/147276463@N05/?/ · Pinterest... https://www.pinterest.com/fernandodiazvillanueva Encuentra mis libros en: · Amazon... https://www.amazon.es/Fernando-Diaz-Villanueva/e/B00J2ASBXM #FernandoDiazVillanueva #kursk #segundaguerramundial Escucha el episodio completo en la app de iVoox, o descubre todo el catálogo de iVoox Originals

Today, we end our five-part series with Kutuzov defeating Napoleon Bonaparte. Unfortunately, he would die only a few month after expelling the French General from  Russia. If you'd like to support the podcast with a small monthly donation, click this link - https://www.buzzsprout.com/385372/supportHistory Nerds UnitedLet's make history fun again! Come listen to interviews with today's best authors.Listen on: Apple Podcasts SpotifySupport the show

Today, we cover the beginnings of the war against Napoleon Bonaparte. The failures of the generals leading the war effort would eventually lead to the appointment of Mikhail Kutuzov as head of the Russian army. If you'd like to support the podcast with a small monthly donation, click this link - https://www.buzzsprout.com/385372/supportHistory Nerds UnitedLet's make history fun again! Come listen to interviews with today's best authors.Listen on: Apple Podcasts SpotifySupport the show

Today, we cover the period right before the Russian army goes into full attack mode against Napoleon's Grand Armee. Kutuzov has been busy with a number of different assignments and the death of two Tsars. Support the show

Today, we continue following the incredible career of General Mikhail Kutuzov. We also recount two episodes where his life hanged by a thread. If you'd like to support the podcast with a small monthly donation, click this link - https://www.buzzsprout.com/385372/supportSupport the show

Today, we begin a five-part series on one of Russia's greatest military geniuses, Mikhail Kutuzov. This period of Russian history would lay the groundwork for the revolutions of the early 20th century.

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Photo: No known restrictions on publication. @Batchelorshow 1906 Potsdam  1/2: #Ukraine: #Russia: #Stalin: #Kutuzov: The legend of Kutuzov and the four-century-long entanglement of Crimea, the Tatars, the Tsars, the Soviets and Kyiv. Stephen Kotkin, Hoover Institution. https://freebeacon.com/culture/the-war-in-ukraine-today-and-yesterday/?utm_source=Hoover+Daily+Report&utm_campaign=25f543f0aa-EMAIL_CAMPAIGN_2019_09_05_04_36_COPY_01&utm_medium=email&utm_term=0_21b1edff3c-25f543f0aa-72527561

Photo: No known restrictions on publication. @Batchelorshow 1908 Potsdam 2/2: #Ukraine: #Russia: #Stalin: #Kutuzov: The legend of Kutuzov and the four-century-long entanglement of Crimea, the Tatars, the Tsars, the Soviets and Kyiv. Stephen Kotkin, Hoover Institution. https://freebeacon.com/culture/the-war-in-ukraine-today-and-yesterday/?utm_source=Hoover+Daily+Report&utm_campaign=25f543f0aa-EMAIL_CAMPAIGN_2019_09_05_04_36_COPY_01&utm_medium=email&utm_term=0_21b1edff3c-25f543f0aa-72527561

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Join us on this special episode as we learn about one of Napoleon's most skillful Russian opponents, the sly old fox of the North, General Kutuzov. We welcome special guest, LSU professor, Alexander Mikaberidze.  --- Support this podcast: https://anchor.fm/generalsandnapoleon/support

Alexander Mikaberidze, Professor of History and Ruth Herring Noel Endowed Chair at Louisiana State University in Shreveport and author of Kutuzov: A Life in War and Peace, joins the show to discuss the Russian general Kutuzov, the hero of 1812. ▪️ Times  • 00:53 Introduction • 01:31 18th century Russia  • 04:00 A young officer • 08:57 Modernization   • 12:11 Catherine's wars • 14:30 International relations • 17:00 Shot in the head - twice • 22:11 Promotions • 29:18 Tolstoy's take on Kutuzov • 32:32 Czar Alexander • 39:21 Austerlitz • 48:28 Grand strategy in 1812 • 57:21 Tolstoy and reality • 1:02:09 Legacy

Every Russian knows him purely by his patronym. He was the general who triumphed over Napoleon's Grande Armée during the Patriotic War of 1812, not merely restoring national pride but securing national identity. Many Russians consider Field Marshal Mikhail Illarionovich Golenischev-Kutuzov the greatest figure of the 19th century, ahead of Pushkin, Tchaikovsky, even Tolstoy himself. Immediately after his death in 1813, Kutuzov's remains were hurried into the pantheon of heroes. Statues of him rose up across the Russian empire and later the Soviet Union. Over the course of decades and centuries he hardened into legend. As award-winning author Alexander Mikaberidze shows in Kutuzov: A Life in War and Peace (Oxford UP, 2022), Kutuzov's story is far more compelling and complex than the myths that have encased him. An unabashed imperialist who rose in the ranks through his victories over the Turks and the Poles, Kutuzov was also a realist and a skeptic about military power. When the Russians and their allies were routed by the French at Austerlitz he was openly appalled by the incompetence of leadership and the sheer waste of life. Over his long career--marked equally by victory and defeat, embrace and ostracism--he grew to despise those whose concept of war had devolved to mindless attack. Here, at last, is Kutuzov as he really was--a master and survivor of intrigue, moving in and out of royal favor, committed to the welfare of those under his command, and an innovative strategist. When, reluctantly and at the 11th hour, Czar Alexander I called upon him to lead the fight against Napoleon's invading army, Kutuzov accomplished what needed to be done not by a heroic charge but by a strategic retreat. Across the generations, portraits of Kutuzov have ranged from hagiography to dismissal, with Tolstoy's portrait of him in War and Peace perhaps the most indelible of all. This immersive biography returns a touchstone figure in Russian history to human scale. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices Support our show by becoming a premium member! https://newbooksnetwork.supportingcast.fm/new-books-network

Every Russian knows him purely by his patronym. He was the general who triumphed over Napoleon's Grande Armée during the Patriotic War of 1812, not merely restoring national pride but securing national identity. Many Russians consider Field Marshal Mikhail Illarionovich Golenischev-Kutuzov the greatest figure of the 19th century, ahead of Pushkin, Tchaikovsky, even Tolstoy himself. Immediately after his death in 1813, Kutuzov's remains were hurried into the pantheon of heroes. Statues of him rose up across the Russian empire and later the Soviet Union. Over the course of decades and centuries he hardened into legend. As award-winning author Alexander Mikaberidze shows in Kutuzov: A Life in War and Peace (Oxford UP, 2022), Kutuzov's story is far more compelling and complex than the myths that have encased him. An unabashed imperialist who rose in the ranks through his victories over the Turks and the Poles, Kutuzov was also a realist and a skeptic about military power. When the Russians and their allies were routed by the French at Austerlitz he was openly appalled by the incompetence of leadership and the sheer waste of life. Over his long career--marked equally by victory and defeat, embrace and ostracism--he grew to despise those whose concept of war had devolved to mindless attack. Here, at last, is Kutuzov as he really was--a master and survivor of intrigue, moving in and out of royal favor, committed to the welfare of those under his command, and an innovative strategist. When, reluctantly and at the 11th hour, Czar Alexander I called upon him to lead the fight against Napoleon's invading army, Kutuzov accomplished what needed to be done not by a heroic charge but by a strategic retreat. Across the generations, portraits of Kutuzov have ranged from hagiography to dismissal, with Tolstoy's portrait of him in War and Peace perhaps the most indelible of all. This immersive biography returns a touchstone figure in Russian history to human scale. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices Support our show by becoming a premium member! https://newbooksnetwork.supportingcast.fm/history

Every Russian knows him purely by his patronym. He was the general who triumphed over Napoleon's Grande Armée during the Patriotic War of 1812, not merely restoring national pride but securing national identity. Many Russians consider Field Marshal Mikhail Illarionovich Golenischev-Kutuzov the greatest figure of the 19th century, ahead of Pushkin, Tchaikovsky, even Tolstoy himself. Immediately after his death in 1813, Kutuzov's remains were hurried into the pantheon of heroes. Statues of him rose up across the Russian empire and later the Soviet Union. Over the course of decades and centuries he hardened into legend. As award-winning author Alexander Mikaberidze shows in Kutuzov: A Life in War and Peace (Oxford UP, 2022), Kutuzov's story is far more compelling and complex than the myths that have encased him. An unabashed imperialist who rose in the ranks through his victories over the Turks and the Poles, Kutuzov was also a realist and a skeptic about military power. When the Russians and their allies were routed by the French at Austerlitz he was openly appalled by the incompetence of leadership and the sheer waste of life. Over his long career--marked equally by victory and defeat, embrace and ostracism--he grew to despise those whose concept of war had devolved to mindless attack. Here, at last, is Kutuzov as he really was--a master and survivor of intrigue, moving in and out of royal favor, committed to the welfare of those under his command, and an innovative strategist. When, reluctantly and at the 11th hour, Czar Alexander I called upon him to lead the fight against Napoleon's invading army, Kutuzov accomplished what needed to be done not by a heroic charge but by a strategic retreat. Across the generations, portraits of Kutuzov have ranged from hagiography to dismissal, with Tolstoy's portrait of him in War and Peace perhaps the most indelible of all. This immersive biography returns a touchstone figure in Russian history to human scale. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices Support our show by becoming a premium member! https://newbooksnetwork.supportingcast.fm/military-history

Every Russian knows him purely by his patronym. He was the general who triumphed over Napoleon's Grande Armée during the Patriotic War of 1812, not merely restoring national pride but securing national identity. Many Russians consider Field Marshal Mikhail Illarionovich Golenischev-Kutuzov the greatest figure of the 19th century, ahead of Pushkin, Tchaikovsky, even Tolstoy himself. Immediately after his death in 1813, Kutuzov's remains were hurried into the pantheon of heroes. Statues of him rose up across the Russian empire and later the Soviet Union. Over the course of decades and centuries he hardened into legend. As award-winning author Alexander Mikaberidze shows in Kutuzov: A Life in War and Peace (Oxford UP, 2022), Kutuzov's story is far more compelling and complex than the myths that have encased him. An unabashed imperialist who rose in the ranks through his victories over the Turks and the Poles, Kutuzov was also a realist and a skeptic about military power. When the Russians and their allies were routed by the French at Austerlitz he was openly appalled by the incompetence of leadership and the sheer waste of life. Over his long career--marked equally by victory and defeat, embrace and ostracism--he grew to despise those whose concept of war had devolved to mindless attack. Here, at last, is Kutuzov as he really was--a master and survivor of intrigue, moving in and out of royal favor, committed to the welfare of those under his command, and an innovative strategist. When, reluctantly and at the 11th hour, Czar Alexander I called upon him to lead the fight against Napoleon's invading army, Kutuzov accomplished what needed to be done not by a heroic charge but by a strategic retreat. Across the generations, portraits of Kutuzov have ranged from hagiography to dismissal, with Tolstoy's portrait of him in War and Peace perhaps the most indelible of all. This immersive biography returns a touchstone figure in Russian history to human scale. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices Support our show by becoming a premium member! https://newbooksnetwork.supportingcast.fm/biography

If we know Mikhail Ilarionovich Golenischev-Kutuzov, we know him as Tolstoy imagined him, as an old man, before Austerlitz, “with his uniform unbuttoned so that his fat neck bulged over his collar if escaping… in a low chair with his podgy old hands resting symmetrically on its arms'' who begins to snore loudly and rhythmically as his generals plan the battle. Why? Because he alone understands the hand of providence, or the finger of fate; because he alone “recognizes that there are forces in the universe that are ‘stronger and more important than his own will'.” Tolstoy's Kutuzov therefore decides not to decide; diminishes himself in order to triumph; realizes that he is an observer rather than pretending to be an actor. But who was Kutuzov really? And how can we know him? Those are the questions at the heart of Alexander Mikaberidze's new biography Kutuzov: A Life in War and Peace. It is as concerned with Russia in the late eighteenth century, and with what was subsequently made of Kutuzov's legacy–to the very moment we record this conversation–as he is in Kutuzov's life story. Alexander Mikaberidze is Professor of European History at the Louisiana State University at Shreveport, where he is also Ruth Herring Noel Endowed Chair for the Curatorship of the James Smith Noel Collection. This is his fourth appearance on Historically Thinking. For Further Investigation Alex Mikaberidize talked about the Napoleonic Wars as a world war in Episode 14,  and then again in Episode 155, after the publication of his book The Napoleonic Wars: A Global History (which won the 2020 Gilder-Lehrman Military History Prize) He also appeared in Episode 241: Doing the Research Brian Cox seems pretty well-cast as Kutuzov; but if you listened to the podcast closely, you'll see that the makeup people made an error

Alexander Mikaberidze joins me to talk about the man behind the myth, who forms the focus of his new book Kutuzov: A Life in War and Peace. Buy the book: Kutuzov - Alexander Mikaberidze - Oxford University Press (oup.com) Twitter: @zwhitehistory | @AMikaberidze Support the show: The Napoleonicist is creating exciting episodes on the Napoleonic Wars | Patreon

At long last we're checking back in on Natasha! The HEE crew talks about Tolstoy's depiction of grief in her story, as well as the reason he switches so suddenly back to narrating Kutuzov's march to the Russian border when it was just getting good. Join the Facebook discussion group here!Follow along with our reading schedule: https://www.centerforlit.com/hee