Gold coins glinted with an ominous light beneath the gloomy sky. The old veteran smiled, picked one up, and placed it in Tolstoy's hand.
"I'll leave it to you, lad."
The old veteran stepped out of the ranks. Soon, more soldiers came forward, their eyes filled with hope, clouded and murky, or carrying a sense of release.
Prince Menshikov laughed heartily from atop his horse.
"Whoever plants the flag on that hill across from us will receive another thousand Rubles! Everyone else gets fifty Rubles each! Those who retreat—die!"
The soldiers began whispering among themselves as well.
"My God! That's a thousand Rubles! I've never even heard of that much money!"
"His Highness the Prince is truly generous!"
"Don't get ahead of yourself! Can you be the first one to charge up there?"
"Fifty Rubles isn't bad either. At least it's enough to buy a cow!"
Lev Tolstoy merely gripped the gold coin tightly in silence. He knew it was nothing more than gold-plated.
Charge the enemy lines, plant the flag, then return home in glory? It was nothing but a lie, one that could never be redeemed, just like this coin.
Leaving aside whether they could win, even if they did, none of these serfs could be exempted from military service without the Tsar's special permission.
Lev Tolstoy was an aristocrat, and he had barracks of his own.
Lev Tolstoy had joined the army mostly out of boredom, seeking excitement. At the time, he not only led a dissolute life but was also a hopeless gambler. Only after debt collectors came to the school did he have no choice but to drop out.
Army life brought great changes to Lev Tolstoy. He had even volunteered to transfer from the leisurely Caucasus to the most brutal Eastern Rumelia.
Thus, it