Chapter 22: February 14th, 1697

“Ugh...” Were the only words that Feliks could say in the snowy winter in the Kremlin of Moscow. The snow was light but blew into his face as he stepped out of the barracks. He wore heavy thick clothing as he looked at the walls and buildings around him. Southeast almost directly in front of him was the great Saint Basil’s Cathedral known for its multiple towers with multicolored domes on top of each tower. While a beautiful sight, looking at one of the tallest buildings in Russia, Feliks only thought was that the cold would hopefully end soon.

Things had not gone exactly according to Feliks’s hopes and dreams. He finished up his training in the Streltsy army. They almost did not even take him in due to how different he was and his lack of nobility. He did prove himself as an intelligent character able to read and even write, but this still only helped him so much. The gold he had helped him somewhat, but he considered himself lucky they did not kick him out entirely. A typical scene for him was encountering other men of nobility with long beards that he tried to grow out his own. The biggest problem with this tactic was that his ethnicity of his family and his genes made it hard for him to grow a beard. For the most part, he had no natural facial hair to grow amongst the men that often looked at him as less of a man because of it.

Feliks gripped his musket hard as he stood by the door. It was just after his watch where he patrolled the long walls of the Kremlin. At the time of winter, it was long and dreary.

“I miss Xuanwu,” He said to himself very quietly. “I feel that in the end, it might have been the better decision to stay with her and just be there with our child.”

He still carried the crystal that Ariadne gave him. Given to him before he was transported nearby, all he had to do was find a secluded area and activate it. Some deity would come and pull him out to reunite him with his wife. However, being able to do it was challenging as there weren’t many secluded spots.

“I think another week of this, and I will go ahead and pull out of this endeavor. I am sorry, father, but there is really nothing for me here.”

A snap of a nearby fallen twig broke him out of his thoughts as he turned his head to look at a nearby Streltsy soldier. He recognized him as an acquaintance of his by the name of Hagen, a person that actually sat and chatted with him when they ate. They did not consider themselves friends, but it was the closest he had to a person to talk to in the long winters. Unlike the other men, he was a noble third son of some rich man that didn’t seem to care who Feliks was or where he was born from. To him, he was more of a man that seemed to do what he wanted.

“Why are you out here?” Hagen asked him.

“Just felt like it to get away from the others. I am ready to start slamming them into the tables if I hear them talk about my background and what shitty person I am because I am Chinese.”

“You told me that you are not Chinese. You are only half of one. The other one is Russian. Who gives a fuck about it? Let your accomplishments do the talking.”

“If they let me,” Feliks said as he spat on the ground as he shifted his headwear. He wiped his boots of the growing snow that fell on them.

“Some people tend to notice your accomplishments. I overheard a couple of rumors from the chain of command. The Imperial Majesty Czar Peter himself is coming today to inspect the troops here. It sounds like he might be pushing more of his reforms in throwing out the Streltsy in the Kremlin.”

Feliks gave him a questioning look. “That is an interesting rumor. I haven’t heard any of the other men talk about it.”

“I think it is supposed to be a surprise inspection. From the word of the chain was that the Czar was pushing more of his reforms. He really wants to dissolve the Streltsy for good and keep pushing his own new reformed army into place.”

“That is something the men always talk about. They talk about how much they hate him and want to ensure his half-sister takes the throne. They try to keep it hushed up, but I overhear them a lot. The Czar hates us, and I am simply a part of the system. I don’t care if the Czar shows up or not.”

Hagen turned to look away as he put his back to the wall. His musket was in poor condition with wear all over it. He had a look of exhaustion on his face. “Look ... I understand how you feel. We are part of a system that doesn’t give a shit about you. You want to do something amazing, but you are just a human being, after all. The other men don’t know of your true gifts and abilities. I have seen you outshoot them in almost all the matches and training exercises. You are even able to hold your own in a fight. I feel God or the angels are watching over you and ensuring that you win battle after battle. It is their mistake that they don’t utilize that but...”

“What?” Feliks skeptically responded as his focus looked at some of the other men that were walking by the barracks house. It was a pair of men that walked by, giving little notice to them.

“The Czar, from what I have heard, is a man that is rebuilding the army. I think it is for the better, even if not everyone agrees. He is already trying to disband the Streltsy entirely. He only has small units like this here and there in Russia. I think if he had it his way, he would get rid of us entirely, but ... I think he is coming here for a reason. I think he wants something else besides coming to inspect the troops.”

“What do you think it is?” he asked him.

“I am not sure. Perhaps we will find out if he shows up. When is your next watch?”

Feliks sighed. “Later on this afternoon, a perfect time to get blasted by more cold wind.”

“You will get through it. You are tougher than you know.”

“Well ... thank you at least.”

Feliks and Hagen’s attention was drawn to a new pair of men that walked up to their barrack’s house. One of the men was one they knew, a fellow bunkmate who slept on the other side where they slept in the barracks. He kept to himself mostly. The other man, however, was a unique individual entirely.

“Damn, he is big,” Hagen said out loud as he saw the two men approach the door of the barracks. “This must be the new person that was supposed to be moved here today.”

“He must be new,” Feliks commented as the two men walked past him. “This new guy is huge.”

Both Hagen and Feliks commented as they looked at the new person. He stood at the height of almost six foot ten. He was practically a walking mountain. The snow made it a little bit hard to see the full details, but Feliks noted that the man was Chinese in appearance.

“Well ... looks like we got somebody that you might get along with,” Hagen commented. “Looks like I better become friends with him. I wouldn’t want to be on his bad side if this new guy gets pissed off. He looks like he could throw us over the wall if he got mad.”

“Perhaps...” Feliks said almost quietly. “It might be a good idea to make friends with this person. He looks a little bit like me, and it might be possible to have an ally amongst the other men.”

This man had no hair on his face like he did. He was strong and had dark hair covered by his head covering. He carried a set of belongings on his back as they both approached the door.

The large man looked at both Hagen and Feliks. He momentarily looked at Feliks, noting his features as the other man opened the door.

“Welcome to our barracks,” Feliks told the new man as they stepped inside the barracks home. The large man simply nodded his head at him as he walked inside. He almost had to duck his head as they walked into the home.

“Perhaps it is time I get to know our new guest,” Feliks told Hagen. “Thanks for the pep talk. I feel like I need it every day now.”

“Anytime,” Hagen replied as he stepped away from the wall. He picked up his musket and headed off to the walls. “I am going to take up the watch. I will be back in a few hours.”

Feliks, with some curiosity, picked up his musket and knocked off the snow on himself again as he walked back into the barracks and closed the door behind him.

Inside the wooden home of the barracks was a series of beds that lined the walls. In the center was a fireplace that the men sat next to, trying to heat themselves and whatever food they wanted. It was not exactly the most comfortable of places. It was not a packed room, but it was evident that twenty beds lined the large room that you were not alone even if you wanted to be. The home at least provided shelter against the softly falling snow outside. It was still midday, so the sun provided some heat and light at least.

Feliks put his musket on a rack as he took off his headwear and put it on away beside his bed. He saw the other men’s attention focus on the towering man that walked in. A chair was already available as the large man put his gear down by the empty bed.

The man that was escorting the large man broke the silence in the room and addressed all in the room. “Everyone, this is the new soldier to join up our ranks. He was recently moved from the other side of the Kremlin to here. His name is Bataar. Welcome him. He is going to stay here for the next few months.”

One of the bearded men got up from his chair as he looked at Bataar. He was tiny compared to him. He did not shake his hand but nodded to him.

“I don’t know who fed you,” he said. “But I wish I had that sort of strength you have. You look like you could push us all to the ground even if we all worked together.”

Another man laughed at hearing that. “You look like you come from China. How good is your Russian, Bataar?”

Bataar that had been keeping quiet the whole time, finally spoke. “My Russian is very good. I was born in China but moved far northwest when I was still very young.”

Feliks was taking note of his appearance. His voice was relatively light but had a Chinese accent to it. He had dark hair that bled out of his headwear. He had a slightly darker skin tone than he did which was barely noticeable amongst himself and the other men. He had slanted eyebrows. Much like him, he had no hair on his face that he didn’t already shave off. He was a giant among men being taller than the other men and having muscles that reflected his size. If he was the angry type of man, he would be terrifying to anyone else. He seemed like a non-threatening character from his eyes, though.

“That is particularly far to travel getting from China to Moscow,” Feliks commented to Bataar. “Most families never travel that far.”

Feliks was behind Bataar when he made a comment. He turned his head to look at him. He had a better look at him in the firelight of the cabin.

He smiled as he looked at him. “You look like you come from China as well. What is your name?”

“My name is Bambuk. Nice to meet you, Bataar. We hold simple rules here. You already serve the Streltsy here in the Kremlin, so we don’t have to give you the whole explanation of how to behave here. The Sotnik Padraig is your captain here. He is responsible for your watches.”

“I already met the Captain, Bambuk,” Bataar responded. “I know when my watch is tonight. Thank you.”

“Don’t find many that are big as you are,” commented another soldier named Grigory. “You look like you can take down ten men in a brawl. How did you get to Moscow?”

Bataar shrugged. “Moscow is the home of Russia. My family decided that it was best to go from one big city to another. My father was tired of living in Ulaanbaatar and thought it was best to go to a place that had better opportunities ... at least that is what he thought. He spent a lot of money to get to here. It nearly broke us doing it, and it took us a full year to travel all the way to here.”

Feliks scratched the back of his neck as he thought about it. He pondered to himself about his words, but he knew everyone had a back story of some sort, and he was sure some were stranger than others. He himself knew how long of a trek it would have taken to travel to Moscow just to join the army. At least he never had to worry about the long trek, and the fact that Bataar had made the trip with his family only showed that it was possible.

“So tell me about yourselves,” Bataar asked as he looked at everyone. “You know what my name is. Tell me yours.”

One of the men that had been speaking with him earlier, a rather heavy bearded man unlike the others, was the first to speak up. “My name is Grigory. I come from Moscow.”

Another man that was in his bunk spoke up, “My name is Oleg. I come from Kirov before my family moved here.”

“The man that I was with earlier that is on watch, his name is Hagen, born and raised here in Moscow,” Feliks commented.

Bataar once again looked at Feliks. “What about you, Bambuk? Where do you come from?”

Feliks hesitated to answer that question. While most of the men in his barracks were used to him, others ridiculed him for his past. He did feel more at ease to answer it, though, since there was somebody that was already from his area now, and it looked like he could handle his own if push came to shove.

“I was born in Irkutsk near the border of Russia,” he finally answered.

Bataar smiled when he heard him say it. “Sounds like you come from near China. Amazing how you made it this far.”

“I have lived in Moscow for several years,” Feliks lied to him. Bataar nodded his head as he turned to look at the rest of the men.

“Well, if we are to get to know you better, then you need to tell us what you think who should be in charge when it comes to our rulers,” Grigory got serious. “Do you feel it should be Peter or Sophia?”

Oleg interrupted him as he looked at the group in the center of the room from his bunk. “That is enough of that treasonous talk. Czar Peter is our ruler; his sister is not coming back into power.”

“If that is the case, then why is he dismantling the Streltsy? So he can bring his toy army that he had as a kid into power? He already moved most of the Streltsy out of Moscow, reforming the army. Before you know it, we will be out of the picture entirely. Now you will never achieve status, you will never...”

“That is enough!” Oleg yelled at him. “Any more of this talk, and I will report you to the Sotnik myself.”

Grigory threw his hand up as he shut up. Feliks had heard this argument enough times from the men. He was tired of it, honestly. It was a war of angry men amongst the Streltsy that a proclaimed ruler would reform the army and disbanded the Streltsy. By the time it was 1697, most of the Streltsy was dissolved to make way for the new army of Czar Peter that rallied on your abilities and not necessarily nobility. Some amongst the top rank in the Streltsy felt entitled to their positions of prestige and nobility. Peter, on the other hand, was destroying that. Some of those reforms had already impacted the remaining Streltsy in Moscow. Obviously, there was tension amongst the ranks in which Feliks was thrown into the mix at times. Bataar looked at Feliks again to see if he had anything else to say.

“I have no comment on the matter,” Feliks finally said to Grigory. “Czar Peter seems to be on the right track. Prior to joining, my father lost most of his money getting here, and it would have made things harder for me to join otherwise if my abilities were overlooked. You tend to notice my bulk. I can wield the most powerful of weapons you guys have. I want to serve Russia just as all of you want to do. I am thankful you men don’t hold too much hatred towards the Chinese, at least from what I have seen so far. Some of the other men from where I was really didn’t like me there with them. It was partly the reason that I was moved to here.”

Oleg turned his head and looked at Feliks, noting that one man, even if he was half Chinese was the reason why Bataar was transferred to their group.

“I guess the idea is to have all the Mongrels together,” he said with a sigh. “Whatever...” he turned his head on his bunk, and he looked like he was ready to fall asleep.

Before anything more could be said, the door opened, and the Desyatnik (Corporal) came walking in. There was silence in the room as everyone looked at him. He was responsible for the men in the Barracks, and he was responsible for bringing and coordinating the men with the Sotnik.

The Desyatnik, by the name of Andrei, addressed everyone. “Listen up! There is a change of schedule today. The snow is dying down and will stop by afternoon. We are going to be training after the snow stops. We need to continue with firearms training today to get you men better at shooting and reloading. Most of you men still need to work on it.”

Grigory jumped in. “All except Bambuk here that can fire and hit anything with a gun. The guy can shoot anything. Must be in his blood or something.”

Andrei looked at Feliks and nodded. Bataar even turned to look at Feliks as well and acknowledged what the Desyatnik said.

“Hmmm ... you guys have not seen me shoot yet,” Bataar commented.

It was a couple of hours as the men had a chance to eat, and they were at the shooting range. The snow had stopped, and a fresh layer of white packed the ground. Grigory, Oleg, Feliks, Bataar, and two other men were in a straight line as they were preparing to shoot at wooden targets that lined the shooting range. All the men wielded the typical weapons of the Streltsy of the time period, and that was the bardiche, a long pole with an ax attached to it. It was a favored weapon of the Polish army and the Russian Streltsy. While it was an interesting weapon, it had other uses. The Streltsy were also armed with the heavy muskets that were sometimes called the arquebus, even if the term was outdated.

“Well, we get to see Bambuk’s legendary shooting again at work,” one of the men commented jealously. “With me, it will be miss after miss.”

The men all took their bardiches and stabbed the blunt ends of the poles into the snow and dirt. This caused all the bardiches to stand upright with the ax creating a light form of a gun shield while having a large notch to be able to mount the heavy muskets. The men could quickly reload their rifles, mount them on the axes, fire a shot, and then pull it out to reload it again. If the enemy got too close, then the men could quickly grab their bardiches and then fight in melee combat. There were, of course, other weapons that the Streltsy used, but this form of fighting was nearing an end as muskets and new ways of combat were improving throughout Europe.

All the men started the long process of loading up their rifles. This was almost a minute-long process of loading the large muskets. This usually involved the process of pouring the gunpowder into the musket, loading the round, using the ramrod to push everything into the barrel, putting the ramrod back onto the lower end of the barrel, and then finally aiming the rifle downrange to fire again. Even in a time of firearms, this process was long and arduous. Each shot was critical because if you missed, you were very likely to be fighting in melee combat against your target.

Feliks was first to finish loading up his rifle as he placed it on the notch of his bardiche. He then looked aside to see Bataar finishing up quickly and then mounting his rifle on his ax almost a couple seconds later. Alexsei was next as he finally got his loaded, followed by the other two men and Oleg. All the men were ready to fire.

Andrei looked downrange at the targets as he looked back at the men. Each man had a separate target to shoot at. They were wooden targets with painted bull’s eyes on them. It would be obvious who hit and who missed with their rifles. The targets were placed at a forty-meter range. It was not an easy range to hit something with these particular rifles but not hard either. All the men were ready to fire as they mounted their rifles on their axes.

“Ready ... Aim ... Fire!”

Each of the men pulled the trigger on their rifles. One by one, the flints of the guns struck and ignited the primers and into the firing chambers igniting the gunpowder. An extensive series of bangs could be heard from each of the rifles as rounds were emptied at the targets. Smoke filled the air. All except Oleg’s rifle went off.

“Damn...” Oleg responded as he reset the flint and aimed downrange again. He pulled the trigger, and the rifle went off.

Feliks was dead perfect with his shot, almost hitting the ideal center. Bataar also hit the target as well, hitting the edge of the wooden target. Oleg, despite the problems, also managed to hit his target, but the rest of the men missed their targets.

“Reload!” Andrei called out.

The men took the rifles out as they began the process of putting more powder into the rifles. It was a long and tedious process as the powder and rounds were inserted into the firing chamber. Oleg stopped as he looked at the spring of his rifle.

“This rifle is shit. That is why it didn’t fire the first time,”

“Keep going. We will see what we can do about it after the training exercise,” Andrei replied.

The rest of the men began the process of pulling out the ramrod and pressing the round deeper into the barrel. One of the men then put his rifle on his ax and was ready to fire.