Chapter 3 - The High Queen

Vladimir Putin and his ragged band of soldiers warily followed their peasant guide, Yuri, as he led them along the winding shoreline of the immense, glimmering lake. After some time, the dense trees suddenly thinned and they found themselves looking down upon a marvelous city nestled against the shores of the pristine waters.

Sprawling timber houses painted in bright hues of red, green, and gold, with onion-shaped rooftops gilded in white and silver, dominated the skyline. Cathedral spires arched gracefully toward the heavens, ornate crosses atop their peaks glittering in the morning sunlight. This could only be the fabled capital of Maskva that Yuri had enthusiastically described.

Yet as they drew cautiously closer along the stone-paved road that snaked toward the main city gates, Putin noticed with a critical eye that something seemed amiss. The outer districts and environs of the capital looked dingy and run down, with beggars dressed in rags darting through gloomy alleyways while poorly-dressed peasants toiled away at menial tasks like laundry and cobbling.

Only at the very heart of the sprawling city did the architecture look stately and well-kept, he observed. This was clearly a kingdom with vast inequality and tension between the wealthy aristocratic rulers and the impoverished lower classes who served them.

Yuri led the group through a massive timber gate into the central district of the capital, with Putin scanning their surroundings closely for any potential threats. As they proceeded along thoroughfares lined with high stone walls and wrought iron fences, the brisk sound of marching boots suddenly echoed from ahead.

A patrol column of spear-wielding soldiers appeared from around a bend, clad in steel-plated armor with purple capes fluttering behind them. The ornate emblem of a two-headed golden eagle was proudly emblazoned on their polished chest plates.

"Halt!" the leader cried in a booming voice, holding up a mailed fist. "What business have you motley strangers in Maskva, the royal city of Moskovia?"

Before Putin could respond, Yuri stepped forward obsequiously with a low bow of his head. "Good sir knight, I humbly bring these battle-worn guests to have urgent audience with Her Majesty, the High Queen Anastasia."

The suspicious knight scrutinized them thoroughly for several tense moments before nodding curtly. "Follow me then, and be on your best behavior in the presence of royalty."

Flanked by the patrol of armored men, their group was escorted through a high palace gate into a lavish courtyard bustling with servants and courtiers. Putin noticed some giving his own ragtag soldiers puzzled or disdainful looks, but they held their discipline.

At last, they were ceremoniously led into the opulent throne room. Seated atop a gilt throne encrusted with glittering jewels was an elegant young woman with a delicate golden circlet atop her regal head.

"Your Majesty," the lead knight announced with an obsequious bow. "May I present these unkempt visitors who have arrived in fair Moskovia."

The striking High Queen smiled down at them politely. "Welcome, good travelers. I am Czarina Anastasia, rightful ruler of this great realm. What brings you to my prosperous kingdom?"

Putin considered his words carefully before responding. "We arrived in your lands through mysterious means beyond our understanding, Your Majesty. We are simple Russian folk seeking refuge and a new place among your people, if you would be so kind to permit it."

Queen Anastasia nodded thoughtfully as she assessed them with sharp eyes. "If you all swear fealty to my crown, I shall mercifully allow you to stay for now and prove yourselves as worthy subjects."

"You show immense wisdom and grace, Your Majesty," Putin replied deferentially with a deep bow, though inwardly his mind churned strategically. For now, they needed to lull this young queen into false comfort.

"Come, let us feast together and celebrate these new friends who have arrived in our grand realm of Moskovia!" Anastasia suddenly proclaimed with a regal smile.

As they were led by knights to an opulent banquet hall, Putin exchanged a subtle look with his hardened soldiers. The first critical steps were taken in their patient quest for power. Now they simply needed to quietly rebuild their strength and influence before making their true motives known.