November 29, 1802.
Saint Petersburg.
The candles on the gilded branch chandeliers hanging from the ceiling of the Winter Palace's St. George Hall burned fiercely, making the densely packed medals and sashes throughout the hall gleam with a blinding light.
Rather than playing the gentle dance music commonly used at banquets, the Royal Orchestra had switched to the stirring "Peter the Great March."
Yes, only this piece was worthy of Russia's glorious victory in Austria not long ago.
By an oak table near the window, three officers were drinking merrily, and the bottles beside them were already more than half empty.
"Ah, I truly envy you," Major Igor said, swirling his wineglass as he spoke to the young man beside him. "Following His Majesty the Emperor into Pest—what an immense honor."
Yes, just a month and a half earlier, Alexander I had personally traveled to Pest to attend the signing ceremony of the Austro-Hungarian Armistice.
Although he had been spat upon and cursed by nearly every Hungarian in Pest, that did not stop the Russians from proclaiming that their emperor had "inspected Pest amid the kneeling worship of all."
The captain named Nikola Petrovich was a company commander in the Royal Guard 11th Infantry Regiment, responsible for securing a section of the route that day. Petrovich had clearly drunk quite a bit. He first raised his cup and shouted, "Long live His Majesty the Emperor!"
Only then did he sit back down, grinning broadly. "Those Hungarians were utterly incapable of withstanding a single blow. Our regiment took only half a month to fight all the way from Bihar to Szolnok.
"The only regret was that we never got to blast open that city with our cannons—the cowards surrendered! Hahaha!"
Captain Dossayev, seated on the other side, immediately raised his glass.