Visiting Ralf

Two days had passed since the military march, and Prince Alexander found himself standing outside a high-security cell in Gulag, flanked by the Chief of Staff of the Imperial Guards, Rolan, and a small army of police officers. Their footsteps echoed through the stark hallway as they approached the cell of the man who posed a significant threat to the prince's reign: Ralf Hietela.

The heavy metal door groaned on its hinges as it swung open, revealing a disheveled figure huddled on a narrow cot. Ralf's ragged clothes barely covered his emaciated frame, his face a mess of bruises and cuts, and his body shivering uncontrollably from the bitter Siberian cold. Despite his pitiful state, Ralf's eyes glinted with fierce defiance as he raised his head to look at the visitors.

Alexander stepped forward, his eyes fixed on Hietela's face. "Ralf Hietela," he said, his voice cold and unwavering. "I have come to see you."