The Maiden and the River

Turku, Finland. January 1918

The winter was bitterly cold, and was made even worse by the fact that war was imminent. Two months, that was as long as the Reds and their Russian masters had been prepared to allow Finland its independence. Now the were poised to make the strike and once more bringing her country back under Russian rule.

Elisabeth Ramsay shivered as she hurried her steps through the virtually deserted streets of Åbo. The political situation had done it's part in keeping people at home, and the weather made certain that the ones too drunk or ignorant, found it better to stay indoors. The bells of the cathedral were striking six, and she was running late, which annoyed her. Ever since the death of her mother, some ten years ago, Elisabeth had been adamant that the Ramsay family would at least spend one evening together every week.

Especially now. With the decree that a new army was being established,its foundation on the numerous White Guards. Father had been working tirelessly for this, having used all his influence to gain a reliable supply of arms from Germany and Sweden to make sure that any aggressor would be met with as fierce a reception as possible. The troubling fact was that if a war broke out, then it would surely be one where Finn stood against Finn.

She crossed the bridge by the cathedral, heading past the statue of Brahe, and hurrying her steps towards her family's apartment, a smile briefly caressing her lips as she did. Åbo, she could never bring herself to use the Finnish name for the town, must surely be the soul of the country. The cathedral housing the legacy of the cultural heritage, and even a hundred and six years of Russian rule had not altered that.

"We could not be Swedes. We did not want to be Russians. Let us be Finns."

The words of the national poet J.L Runeberg echoing in her mind as she opened the door to the house. It was a truth with some modification. Belonging to the Swedish speaking minority, and with a seat in the House of Nobility, Elisabeth begged to differ from the poet. But as per always the fate of nations was not made by women, noble or not. She had had some rather heated debates on the issue. Father had been a firm advocate of the bilingual principle, although he didn't speak a word of Finnish. Her sister Kristina...

Now there was the proverbial black sheep of the family. It was all very well to be sympathetic to the cause of the Fennomans, but only in moderation. It would be interesting to see what would happen now, although the result could just as well end in tears. Father had mentioned that they would be entertaining guests. A German named von Demmerling.

War was imminent, and the newly independent country would have to tread carefully in order to maintain its current position. The Russians had not even bothered to conceal the support for the Red Guards, nor had Imperial Germany for the Whites. There was talk about Swedish volunteers as well, Father had mentioned as much, although the issue was a sensitive one. Too many activists in Stockholm still advocated the return to the borders of before the Finnish War. The Germans had their agenda, to foster a strong pro-German power bordering Russia.

The prospects did not look good at all, but perhaps things could be resolved peacefully. She pushed the melancholy aside as she was let in by the maid. She could hear voices coming from the parlour accompanied by the smell of tobacco. Special occasion indeed, Father was usually quite restrictive as far as his precious cigars went. She glanced at her reflection in the mirror, as the maid helped her with the coat. Her features weren't perfect but she still stood out in a crowd, and even though 24 years of age could not be considered old, she had retained her youthful demeanour.

She walked through the hallway and made her way into the parlour where Father was seated in one of the armchairs, a glass of what was probably Jaloviina in hand and cigar in the other. He was accompanied by a man wearing uniform, although not the Finnish one. von Demmerling most likely.

"Ah there you are my dear" Father looked up and offered her a smile. "Please allow me to introduce our esteemed guest. Major Erich von Demmerling of his Imperial Majesty's Army."

Elisabeth nodded regally to the German officer as she took a seat opposite to the man. She made a show of coughing in response to the cigar smoke and were about to say something when she was interrupted by Kristina, who true to her nature managed to waltz into the room without a thought to what may be right and proper.

She watched closely how von Demmerling seemed to light up at the sight of her sister. It would be yet another one of those evenings...

As the increasingly cold wind wound its way through the streets, a young woman was walking quickly and with an obvious purpose. Head bowed and booted feet moving swiftly across the frosty ground. Kristina Ramsay was late. She normally wouldn’t have worried but it was the night her family came together to eat and as frustrating as it could be to sit through hours of debate between her father and older sister and herself, she wouldn’t pass it up for the world. As much as their views on the world and the country within which they lived differed, she loved them dearly.

Once inside and taking a moment to catch her breath, Kristina paused to glance in the looking glass. Her cheeks were reddened from the chilly evening air, the wind had brightened her eyes and worked a few locks of hair free from the rest which had been carefully arranged and pinned that morning. No time to do anything about it now and besides, it was only father and Elisabeth...Her stomach dropped for a moment. Almost completely forgotten words from her father now filtered back into her mind. A guest, they would be joined by a guest for dinner. Curses.

Kristina frowned slightly, slowing her pace towards the parlour, trying to remember just who would be waiting along with her father, and no doubt Elisabeth, inside. The information eluded her and curving her mouth into a smile she stepped into the parlour,
“Please forgive my lateness father, the roads are already becoming icy and I did not want to fall…” A small white lie but rather that than the truth. She embraced her father and kissed his cheek before turning to see their guest, faltering upon sight of the uniform before her, the German uniform before her.

“I…I must also apologise to you, sorry to have kept you waiting…I’m Kristina…” She smiled as brightly as she could although held the gaze of the new acquaintance no longer than she had to. She moved towards the fire, holding out her hands to warm, making sure to avoid the eyes of her older sister. They were as alike as any sisters in appearance, Elisabeth was fairer with lighter blonde colouring and Kristina had more honey tones in her hair but both had the piercing blue eyes of their mother. However in temperament and beliefs, they were like chalk and cheese.

Kristina was, unlike Elisabeth, of the opinion that the Finns should run their country as they wanted, without the patronage or guidance of other countries, Sweden included. She spoke Finnish, outside of their house at any rate and frequently spent her time discussing the possible future of Finland with peers with similar thoughts to her own. She had been at such a discussion that evening, hence her delay.
“I trust you are well, Elisabeth?” She added quietly, giving her sister a sideways glance. “I feel as if we rarely see each other these days…”

Erich von Demmerling

Major Erich von Demmerling tapped his leg, a habit that he had carried with him all of his life, with neither his Junker upbringing nor the stern remonstrations of his father nor the instructors at the Prussian War Academy being able to shake it from him during times of impatience, nervousness, or mere vacancy. The excitement at the start of the war had temporarily abated the habit; however, soon enough, sitting in trenches and awaiting the orders to go over the top into a French bullet storm had brought it back more severe than ever.

von Demmerling coughed as he followed Baron Ramsay out of the carriage and into the apartment, the cold, cold air wracking his lungs. Yet another gift of the war. As was his very appointment to this land that God had surely forgotten.

von Demmerling had been born three decades and change earlier in the sleepy Prussian municipality of Schönhausen, the same town that the great Otto von Bismarck had hailed from. It was appropriate enough; his father, Baron Alfred von Demmerling, had served with distinction during the Franco-Prussian War and had been with the Iron Chancellor when the Second Reich had been proclaimed at the Hall of Mirrors. Service in the Imperial Army, even without the grand junker tradition, would have naturally been mandatory due to that alone, and as soon as they had reached the proper age, both Erich and his older brother, Albert, had been sent to the War Academy in Berlin.

Father had always liked Albert best; he had often remarked, during the period between Albert's departure and Erich's own, that he would be destined for great things: a general's rank for sure, General Staff appointment with good likelihood, Chief of Staff with any sort of luck. Albert had therefore been arranged by his father's good graces for command school training, while Erich had been left to decide his own destiny. Most boys might have appreciated that freedom, but not he, not when all it meant was that his father had no hopes for his future at all. So he had enlisted in the Jäger shock infantry.

The coming of the war had, for the first few months, seemed to give him an opportunity. Crushing Britain, France, and Russia, imposing a new German order in European affairs, finally gaining a place in the sun; there would be ample opportunities for all to gain glory and honor. The Marne had changed that, and ever since then the war had been a slow, excruciatingly slow retreat paid for with thousands of lives for ever muddy inch. Albert had been killed at the Somme. A month later, Erich had escaped death at Verdun, but just barely - his lung had collapsed, filled with fluid - thus the cough that he had never been able to take leave of since. And he still had some difficulty with his left shoulder, courtesy of an infection that had spread following the initial surgery and which had, once more, threatened to kill him - this time on a hospital bed, without even the honor of the battlefield.

It was after hearing of this second brush with death among his one remaining son that Baron von Demmerling performed the one soft-hearted gesture Erich could remember: he had pulled his remaining strings and, once Erich had recovered well enough to return to active service, had ensured he was given this assignment.

"We're in secret negotiations with the Russians at the moment," Chief of Staff Hoffman had told him before packing him away on the train to Finland. "It'll only be a matter of time before they agree, they have no other choice. Once we do, we'll have no problem, but until then...Your duty will be to help coordinate the native defenses. Lenin still has plenty of his damned Bolshie cultists up there, and that's not all. Finland's no good for the Kaiser if the Swedes get it. Independent Finland, that's the ticket, an independent Finland with a German prince on the throne and perched between Sweden and Russia and depending on the German Army to keep them off of her."

And so, in a nutshell, that was how von Demmerling had found himself here, shivering and coughing and leg-twitching as he shared cigars and brandy with Colonel Gustav Ramsay, the man in charge of coordinate these makeshift White Guards into something that might have a chance of holding off that Jew Trotksy's red horde. He had once been a cavalry officer in the Czar's army, back when there was a Czar; still, he was a baron, and so von Demmerling supposed he could at least be trusted in the manner of keeping Finland out of Red hands.

Erich stood to his feet, smiling and giving a crisp bow to the young lady with the royal bearing. "Baroness Ramsay, a pleasure it is to make your acquaintance." He bowed again, smiling even wider as the second daughter made her appearance. "And it is certainly a pleasure to meet you as well. I am Erich von Demmerling. Your father has very graciously invited me to share dinner with you. I apologize for the intrusion."

He sat back down into his chair, his eyes lingering on Kristina for just a moment longer. "I can only hope that my presence here will not bother you overly much. I am sure that soon enough I will be out of your way." A phrase that had several meanings, and von Demmerling indeed hoped that the broadest interpretation would be the one coming true. The sooner the war was over and he was back home, the better.

Elisabeth Ramsay

Where did things go wrong?

Elisabeth gave a shrug in response to Kristina's question, but realised that to refrain from commenting would, in fact, be more smarting to her sister's sense of pride than any a smarting remark.

"Yes indeed Kristina, and it's a sad state of affairs seeing the perilous times we live in. When all's said and done, family is the most important thing one has." She held her sister's icy stare for a moment longer than comfortable, willing Kristina to lash out in one of the endless tirades that had become her trademark. The last few years had been tainted by bitterness between the two. Not only due to their politics but something deeper as well. Perhaps it was just the childhood rivalries that had resurfaced and clad in other raiments, but somehow the animosity seemed to run deeper than that.

It was true that Kristina was Father's favourite, her easy-going manners always helpful, politics aside. Added to this was of course her younger sister's gifts and talents. Elisabeth had never been able to blend in with any crowd in such an effortless manner as Kristina did. Looking to herself she saw little but melancholy and pessimism, and where her sister embraced every change and thought it for the better, Elisabeth took her refuge in the past.

Not that she wanted a return to Russian rule, far from it. Yet the prospects of seeing her country turned into a Socialist dictatorship, and one under a Fennoman rule at that did scare her. The issue of language had been a source of strife for the past fifty or so years, and even though independence wouldn't have been possible had it not been for the minority, the vast majority seemed eager enough to distrust every Svecoman residing in the country.

She shruddered as she pushed the thought back and assumed a prim position in her chair. Her hands neatly folded in her lap, careful to modulate her tone as to not entice any conflict at this point. Elisabeth had never felt herself to be lost for words, but the situation served to render her quiet. Part of it was the uncertainty of the situation, although the main reason, she grudingly had to admit, was the presence of Kristina.

Her reluctance to engage in conversation seemed to fill the room, causing Father to stand up and summon the maid. A hushed conversation between the two of them followed, during which Elisabeth found herself looking at the German officer. He was handsome, that was the first impression she got, yet his features bore witness to hardship. She had followed the news from the battlefields of Europe, and she could easily imagine that von Demmerling had seen his fair share of the horrors of the Western Front. She coughed again, risking a sideway glance at Kristina, before she addressed him.

"I'm sorry for our manners Baron. I guess it's the Nordic melancholy taking its toll on us." She tried for a smile, but realised that her features only managed to convey sadness. "So I understand that you are here in an official capacity then?" Her brow furrowed as she contemplated the seemingly innocent question, and in a split second she felt the bile rise in her throat. "I'm sure that the new Finnish army will benefit enormously from your experience Baron, although one might wonder what the price for your hmmm assistance will be?"

She sat back, offering von Demmerling a radiant smile, suddenly feeling flippant. It was rude in the extreme, but the situation seemed thoroughly absurd to her. There would be a civil war, and the Germans would side with the White and largely Swedish speaking side, as would the Russians with the Red and Finnish one. She received a sharp glance from Father, prompting her to once more withdraw and keeping silent while von Demmerling transferred his attention to Kristina. Not that Elisabeth could understand what the two of them had in common. For all intents and purposes, von Demmerling represented much the same values that had been used to keep her country firmly under the heel of Russian rule. She was aware of conversation going on, and the subtle indication that they move into the dining room. She followed in silence, keeping her head bowed as Father said grace before they took their seats. The conversation once more flowed quite freely, Kristina assuming the role of the perfectly attentive hostess that Elisabeth ought to have taken.

"Do tell me baron" Elisabeth interjected just after the main course had been served. "How long would you say it will take before we are plunged into a civil war?" She knew she was pushing things to the extreme, but she'd rather have the German show his true colours than hiding behind the polite mask of aristocratic manners. "Or perhaps we ought to discuss our possible futures. A socialist republic, closely aligned with Russia? An absolute monarchy ruled by a German prince and needless to say, closely aligned with Germany. I take it you would prefer the latter. Always helpful with allies wouldn't you say? Or if Field Marshal Mannerheim gets his wish, a constitutional monarcy, rekindling the bonds to Sweden and assuming a neutral position between the warring factions. I don't suppose your Kaiser would take too kindly to such an outcome would he? Or you yourself Baron for that matter?" She raised her glass in an ironic toast to the German, and as an afterthought paraphrased Runeberg again. "We could not be Swedes. We did not want to be Russians. Don't make us Germans."

Kristina Ramsay

"Yes indeed Kristina, and it's a sad state of affairs seeing the perilous times we live in. When all's said and done, family is the most important thing one has."
Had they been younger and without company, Kristina would have either retorted or stuck out her tongue, probably both. Why Elisabeth always had to take the sanctimonious path was a complete and utter mystery to Kristina. Maybe she was trying too hard to take the place their beloved mother would have done, Kristina couldn't say.

As much as Kristina had loved their mother and thought of her fondly every day that had passed since her passing, the two had never really understood each other. Perhaps it was that in her youth Kristina had tended towards tomboyish behaviour, emulating the son their father had hoped for. And while Kristina no longer went about climbing trees she had retained the spirited character and sense of self-confidence of her childhood and this she knew was one of the reasons she and her father got on so well.

And most likely the reason she and Elisabeth did not.
"I'm sorry for our manners Baron. I guess it's the Nordic melancholy taking its toll on us."
Kristina couldn't help rolling her eyes slightly at her sister's comment, blushing slightly and lowering her eyes when realising she could well have been caught by their guest or, worse, their father whilst doing such a thing.

"I'm sure that the new Finnish army will benefit enormously from your experience Baron, although one might wonder what the price for your hmmm assistance will be?"
Kristina's eyes widened and flashed across the room, it was unlike Elisabeth to speak so boldly without any apparent concern for a visitor. Although it amused Kristina as much as it confused her.
"So, Baron...whereabouts in Germany are you from? It is a land I haven't visited but have heard much of..." Idle chit chat and subject changing was one of Kristina's strong points and she flashed a smile at the German officer, trying to detract from her sister's words.

She listened attentively as he spoke of his home country, nodding and smiling when appropriate, continuing the facade into the meal. She had to admit that were it not for his reasons for being in Finland, she may well have found him more than a little handsome. He was older than her but that fact aside there was something in his bearing that Kristina admired. She could see in his eyes a shadow of what he must have seen and experienced. She didn't doubt him to be honourable and courageous and all the things she thought important in a man. Yes, despite their very different beliefs, she found it less of a chore than she expected to be polite to their dinner guest.

"Do tell me baron...How long would you say it will take before we are plunged into a civil war?"
Kristina found herself choking slightly as Elisabeth spoke out again, continuing before Kristina could find something to say to distract their guest.
"Or perhaps we ought to discuss our possible futures. A socialist republic, closely aligned with Russia? An absolute monarchy ruled by a German prince and needless to say, closely aligned with Germany. I take it you would prefer the latter. Always helpful with allies wouldn't you say? Or if Field Marshal Mannerheim gets his wish, a constitutional monarcy, rekindling the bonds to Sweden and assuming a neutral position between the warring factions. I don't suppose your Kaiser would take too kindly to such an outcome would he? Or you yourself Baron for that matter?...We could not be Swedes. We did not want to be Russians. Don't make us Germans."

Kristina glanced nervously between her older sister, her father and their newest acquaintance. Something had to be said and said quickly before the dinner table became the setting for one of their infamous family debates. Something Kristina was certain their father would not want.

Admittedly, Kristina half agreed with her sister's point. She no more wanted to see Finland under German rule than they had wanted to be under Russian but why did they have to be ruled at all?
"What I am curious about is whether you think Finland could retain it's independence and govern itself, Baron?" Kristina aimed the almost too innocent question at von Demmerling, her tone almost too naive when put against the knowing glint in her eye. She was trying so hard not to be drawn into an argument by Elisabeth. But it was oh so very tempting.

Erich von Demmerling

von Demmerling turned his attention from the newcomer, Kristina, to her - older? younger? Certainly no less attractive, although somewhat colder, as if more symbiotic with her native clime - sister. Certainly her tone left little doubt as to that was unquestionably where her devotions lay.

"That is a...delicate matter," he replied to her question on his presence. "Officially, the Reich is neutral in the matter, and will be as long as we are negotiating with the Reds. As long as we're neutral, the Bolshies will sign the peace treaty sooner, and the quicker Russia is removed from the war the sooner we can devote our full manpower to other matters, including defending our allies." He nodded towards Baron Ramsay. "However, we are not fools. We will be exactly as neutral in Finland as the Russians are. I am technically part of the staff of General Hoffman - the Chief of Staff of the Eastern Front against our common Russian enemies - and he has sent me here to assist in your defense, so yes, I suppose I am here in an official capacity of His Imperial Majesty's government. As for the price of any intervention...Surely, Baroness Ramsay, you must realize that I am but a simple soldier." The smile he offered her was as insincere as hers was. "And as a simple soldier, it would be inappropriate at the least for me to speculate on matters of state and international affairs."

von Demmerling diplomatically avoided noticing the look the Baron gave to his daughter. It was about time. If he, or even poor Albert, had had a tongue half as sharp as Elisabeth's and paraded it about in front of Father...of course, perhaps the Baron having only two daughters instead of two sons made a difference, but Erich still could not picture his father acting so softly to anyone for any reason.

As they moved into the dining room, beginning the meal, von Demmerling was therefore only too pleased to have a chance to return his attention to Kristina and the simple distractions she offered. "I was born in Schönhausen, Baroness. Or rather in the family estates just outside it. It is a thoroughly pleasant locale just west of Berlin. It is the same town that von Bismarck was born in." von Demmerling could not prevent the pride from filling his voice. "It is quite lovely, and the estate has been in the family for several generations. The land is very beautiful there, excellent farming and most fertile, especially in the spring when the flowers are in bloom. Once the war is over I am sure you would be most welcome to visit." von Demmerling smiled at that, although it was tinged by the realization that, by the time the war was over, Father could well be dead alongside Albert, and the estate would truly be his. His all alone...

von Demmerling felt a sudden stab of grief for Albert, for Father sitting alone in the mansion suffering all the more for not being able to show or confide in anyone, for Mother, and it was nearly a relief when Elisabeth provided another interjection. It was quite inconceivable that any noblewoman could act so in front of both her father and sister, not to mention a guest, but he smiled nevertheless at the opportunity to play.

"Is that one of your poets?" he asked once she had finished. "I must confess I have never heard that one before. I myself used to enjoy Horace. Nevertheless, I can assure you that pretty poetry and romantic sentiments unfortunately neither reflect nor influence the real world. You may talk about neutrality and Swedish reunification. But in the real world, Sweden is a non-entity and in a total war such as this, with not only the aims of one side but the defense of civilization itself against Bolshevism at stake, neutrality is impossible for you no matter what your wishes. You talk of Mannerheim. A very fine general. Unfortunately one with nearly no army, and of what he does currently have, need I remind you that its mainstay was trained in Germany by the German Army and received its funding and weapons by the Kaiser? or would you prefer that we had never trained your Jägers for you? Because I assure you that if Germany withholds her support Lenin will not likewise comply, and no matter what your apparently dismal views of my country, I trust that even you would be forced to acknowledge that it is preferable to a Red Terror on your very doorstep?"

von Demmerling's voice had remained as ice cool as a bayonet during the altercation, yet he nevertheless forced himself to stop from further replies that he was less sure of being able to restrain himself for. Baron Ramsay was giving another stern look to his daughter, and von Demmerling could only hope he might soon take the opportunity to instruct her in the manners she seemed to be so dearly lacking. So fixated was he on this pleasing notion that it took him a moment to realize that Kristina was addressing him again.

"Hmm? Ah yes, beg pardon, Baroness. Certainly that is a possibility. What individuals such as your sister, begging your pardon, seem to forget is that the placing of a German prince on the throne of Finland would by no means abrogate its independence. One need only look to Russia, Britain and Greece, whose monarchs descended and in some cases married German royalty, to see the fallacy of that belief. I might also point out that the German Reich has from its outset had a fully legalistic constitution which is the first in Europe to allow for universal suffrage - which Britain and its American ally still lack - and that despite the Kaiser and Chancellor Bismarck's firm devotion to traditional rule and values, they neither banned the Social Democratic Party nor prevented it from engaging in what are the most comprehensive welfare and social reform laws in Europe. As I said, we are not the unthinking barbarians the Allied propagandists would like you to think, and I would hope that I have done nothing to fuel that impression." He smiled at Kristina, then realized that he had yet to eat any of the food before him.

After taking several bites, he spoke again. "You must forgive me, Baron, I did not intend to cause such dissent in your home. Seeing the positions of your daughters, whom I certainly would not wish to insult and hope that I have not, perhaps it would be best for me to take my leave, and for us to continue our discussions in situation less likely to provoke domestic discord for you." Patting his lips with his napkin von Demmerling began to rise from his seat.

Elisabeth Ramsay

She had listened to von Demmerling's rather rude retorts to her equally rude provocations, and when the German rose to his feet she could but offer him the first genuine smile of the evening. Perhaps it was petty, but there was something about the smugness of von Demmerling's that merited such a response.

Father stood up, giving her yet another stern glance and the unspoken promise that a reprimand would come her way. It hurt her, knowing that she had caused him embarrasment, but it seemed she was past the point of caring. Of course she understood the need of German assistance, von Demmerling had a point about Mannerheim lacking an army to deter, and if the worst happend, defend the newly independent country. Elisabeth had also witnessed the enormous pressure that her father was labouring under. It was no easy task bringing the undisciplined White Guards together into something with a semblance of an army, never mind the issue of arming them properly. Gustav Ramsay had been working tirelessly for this, and even though the baron seemed indefatiguable, Elisabeth could tell that he was nearing the end of his capacity.

To add to his worries was not exactly a token of filial love and responsibility, and yet. Yet she couldn't help but dislike and distrust the German major. He might hide behind empty phrases, proclaiming himself to be nothing more than a mere adviser, but it seemed that her barrage of questions had managed to bring down part of the breastworks, showing the true plans of Imperial Germany.

She stood up, bestowing Father with a long stare, trying to communicate just how sorry she was. There was a moment of acknowledgement between the two, but it quickly ended. Baron Ramsy once more returning to their guest, and with some coaxing and promises of another cognac, managed to get the German officer to remain with them.

It was unfair a situation, not only that the newly independent country had to seek the assitance of Imperial Germany, but more so that the Ramsay's had to go through this without the presence of her mother. Anna Ramsay had died some ten years earlier, a cold turning into pneumonia and slowly claiming her life. Elisabeth missed her terribly, as she knew Kristina did: Still the one who had been most affected was Father, although he would never allow such sentiments to be shown. Yet everytime that Elisabeth, or Kristina for that matter, locked horns in their fierce political debates, the signs were clearly shown.

For a second she felt a sharp stab of self-loathing. She ought just to have kept her mouth shut and suffered in silence instead of provoking the German. Not so much for his sake, when all was said and done Elisabeth didn't care an ounce for his injured pride or sense of what was acceptable behaviour. What saddend her was the fact that for every harshly spoken word, every heated discussion, it seemed that the wedge between herself and Father and Kristina was driven further in, until the relation would be beyond repair.

Perhaps it was better for all concerned parties if she made her sortie now. That would save Father unnecessary embarrasment, yet given the temperature and the heavy snowfall Elisabeth decided to wait before leaving.

She followed the others back to the parlour, the air of the room heavy with cigar smoke. Father and von Demmerling engrossed in a discussion on matters martial. What else was there to expect from two officers? She glanced to where her sister was seated, listening intently at the others.

"So sister dear, what do you make of all this then?" She sat down next to her, turning her chair somewhat to be able to look directly at her. "Does German military assistance conform to your ideas of a country ruled by the Finns?" She injected just a hint of sarcasm, for all intents and purposes, Elisabeth considered herself a Swede, albeit one living in Finland. "I'm sure that you and Baron von Demmerling can have some very interesting discussions on the merits of a modern democracy and all the other things that you are so keen to see implemented."

She winced inwardly as she watched the furrow on Kristina's exquisite brow. She had not meant to antagonize her sister in this fashion, yet here she was. Elisabeth gave a short sigh, and turned to watch the fire before she addressed her sister again. "I'm sorry." Once they had been the closest of confidants, the best of friends and now? Reduced to sniping at eachother at every given moment. It wasn't just her fault, but she guessed that she was probably more to blame. As the oldest, she ought to have done more to ensure an amiable relation between the two, yet there had been too many years of slights, insults and outright hurt traded between them until it seemed that the lines would be fixed forever.

"I'll think I shall leave now. It was nice seeing you again, perhaps we should try to do so more often." The words were spoken without much conviction, and the look she got in return confirmed her suspicions. She walked over to Father, kissing his cheek as she announced her intentions of leaving. His eyes conveyed much the same sentiments as Kristina's had done, and she had to force herself not to let her true feelings shine through. Instead she turned to von Demmerling, extending her hand and smiling politely. "I hope you enjoyed your evening, politics aside baron, after all we're a bit unused to visits of your kind." She offered him yet another smile and as an afterthought. "Have you heard about the legend of Aura? I'm sure my sister can tell you about it. Perhaps it's something that could help you understand us." She nodded as she withdrew her hand and left, the last thing she noticed being Father's hushed excuses.

Outside the snow kept on falling, and she had to put the collar of her coat up to shield her face as yet another gust of wind brought the flakes to hammer against her face. The statue of the former governor general of Finland Proper, Brahe, was shrouded in white, giving the old aristocrat a somewhat bizarre look. Walking past him, she saw that the lights of the cathedral were still lit. Nothing strange about it really, in times of trouble and all that. Elisabeth was not a devoted Christian, but lately she had found some solace in her faith. She hurried up the stairs to the big oak doors, stepping inside the mighty arcs of the temple.

There were surprisingly many people seated in the pews, yet they had all dispersed into little islands. She walked up the aisle, until she saw a familiar face. Her friend Sanna seated on her own. She looked up, offering Elisabeth a shy smile, and moved somewhat to allow her a seat next to her. The mundane gesture struck a chord with her, it seemed blissfully void of any presumptions, and it prompted her to sit down next to her.

"Quite a horrible night Sanna" She spoke in hushed tones as she offered her a smile "and it seems to get worse."

Kristina Ramsay

As much as von Demmerling's response to her question irritated Kristina, she refrained from further comment. He had been more polite in answering her query than he had been with Elisabeth, which she supposed was something. She had, after all, been trying to placate the situation. Any pride she might have felt in calming things quickly evaporated as von Demmerling made to leave.

"Please...I'm sure..." She began feebly before catching sight of the more than disappointed expression on her father's face. Lowering her eyes to the tablecloth she listened as her father convinced their guest to remain in their company a little longer.

Sighing softly, Kristina continued eating, avoiding looking anywhere other than her plate. She could remember a time when mealtimes had been so very different within the very same room in which they now sat. Debates had been just as energetically brought to the table by Kristina and Elisabeth but they had been 'entertained' by their parents and hushed before they had become anything as vicious as they tended to these days.

Soon enough, the awkward meal was over and they returned to the parlour. Kristina chose a seat close to the fire, within earshot of the conversation between her father and their guest and out of Elisabeth's direct line of sight. Or so she hoped, her patience was rapidly running out.

What had happened to switch the role of the sisters anyway? Once upon a time Elisabeth had always been the dutiful hostess at their parent's dinners, always with a soft smile and kind word. She had been shy but polite. Kristina had, more often than not, managed to say the wrong thing to the wrong person at the worst possible moment...but her smile and charm had usually smoothed things over.

"So sister dear, what do you make of all this then?"
"Of what exactly...?"
"Does German military assistance conform to your ideas of a country ruled by the Finns?...I'm sure that you and Baron von Demmerling can have some very interesting discussions on the merits of a modern democracy and all the other things that you are so keen to see implemented."
Kristina frowned before she could stop herself.

"I'm sorry."
"I..." Kristina wanted to say something, anything. She wanted to ask her sister what was so obviously wrong but she couldn't. Things had changed and even though Kristina wasn't entirely sure why or when they changed, the change had happened and it seemed, for the time being at least, to be irreversible.

"I think I shall leave now. It was nice seeing you again, perhaps we should try to do so more often."
"I think we should try...for father's sake as much as ours..." Kristina added, her words an echo in tone of those her sister had uttered. They wouldn't see each other, not intentionally, until their next family meal. Of that Kristina was certain. They had their own lives, their own social circles, their paths did not cross.

"I hope you enjoyed your evening, politics aside baron, after all we're a bit unused to visits of your kind...Have you heard about the legend of Aura? I'm sure my sister can tell you about it. Perhaps it's something that could help you understand us."
Kristina listened as Elisabeth excused herself, unsure of the reasoning behind her rather odd parting shot to the German with whom she had been sparring verbally with for a larger part of the evening.

Kristina gave the German a bemused smile as her father tried to explain away her sister's departure before going off in search of some book or other from his study that he and von Demmerling had apparently been discussing before Elisabeth's departure.
"The Aura, the legend my sister mentioned, is a local creation...in a way..." Kristina began rather in eloquently, out of a need to fill the silence between the two of them rather than a need to share a little of her country's history with him. "She is named after the river here in Turku. She's the embodiment of our country, a young woman, with blonde hair and blue eyes..." Kristina blushed suddenly aware of how it could sound as if she were trying to compare herself to such a character. "Although to describe her in real terms I imagine she would carry herself with a little more of my sisters 'grace'..."

"She is like Svea is to Sweden or Brittania to the English...or, I imagine, how Germania is regarded by your people..." Kristina smiled, a little more brightly this time. Finally feeling at ease, discussing something she both knew about and felt passionately about. A passion that now shone clearly in her eyes as she spoke about the figure who represented her country's virtues.

"While...while my father is absent I feel I must...rather, I want to apologise for the scene at the dinner table. My sister and I are both given to speaking our minds, usually myself more than her but...nevertheless, it was a scene that should not have been witnessed by you and I am genuinely sorry. I know how important your arrival here is to my father and as different as our views may be, I must support him wherever I can, which includes entertaining his guests...rather than upsetting them..." Another shy, slightly embarassed, smile crossed her lips and she let her eyes drift to the flickering flames beside her.

Susanna "Sanna" Lantzelius

Susanna Lantzelius adjusted her hat on her head as she moved quickly through the night to the cathedral. She had become acclimated to the bitter winters in Chicago but the weather in her new home of Åbo seemed more chilling. Perhaps it was the unfamiliarity. There was something warming and smoothing of home, Sanna realized, but only after she had been away from it. Oceans apart from it, actually. The decision to move hadn't been hers but her father and mother's and as the dutiful daughter of the Reverend Lantzelius, she of course followed. Her parents were eager to help rebuilding the Church of Finland, they had a good reason for uprooting their life in the United States. Sanna, their only daughter, could sympathize with their position, and she would go where God willed her to go.

She wouldn't have been so hesitant to move had she been better acquainted with the new language. She found few people to converse in English with and not everyone was patient enough to suffer through Sanna's butchering of Swedish. She had been fortunate, however, to have found a position where compassion and careful observation was more important than her language skills. She had began working as a nurse and the work filled the empty spot in her heart that had been created by a loneliness and melancholy from being away from her friends and her Chicago church familiy.

Between her work, the parish, and her involvement with the Woman's Society of Finland she had begun to feel more at home here. Still, the bite of winter she hadn't been fully prepared for. Sanna was glad when she saw the lights of the cathedral, knowing that her home and warmth were near. It was different walking into God's house now. In Chicago she had known almost everyone who would enter the Church and was expected to be active in fellowship and ministry. Here when she entered perhaps the only thing anyone knew about her was that she was not from the area.

She moved unnoticed down the main aisle, her heart filling with peace. The stresses of the day melted from her body as she found an empty pew and lowered her head to begin to pray. Sanna preferred to pray in the Cathedral; it was too easy to get distracted by worldly things at home or at work. Here the focus was obvious and her attention was undivided. She opened her eyes and began reflecting upon her day when she noticed a woman her own age move quietly up the aisle. It was Elisabeth. She looked troubled.

Sanna quickly moved over in a silent invitation to one of her only friends in Åbo to join her. She smiled warmly as Elisabeth joined her.

"Quite a horrible night Sanna and it seems to get worse," her friend whispered wearily. Sanna frowned and took Elisabeth's hand and squeezed.

"You have come to the right place," she said quietly. "Here you will only find peace and joy." Elisabeth spoke English and was a true blessing to Sanna. "Take it to Him."

Sanna closed her eyes again and began to pray, her hand still holding Elisabeth's. She prayed for her friend, that she would find peace and comfort. She raised her head and looked over to Elisabeth who looked as if she had finished her prayer. "Would you like to come over, Elisabeth? If you need an ear, I am more than happy to listen."

Erich von Demmerling

von Demmerling frowned at the elder Ramsay daughter's blatant display of freshness. He hoped she was happy to have disrupted her father's business evening with his guest. The disparity between his own upbringing and their apparent total laxity was driven in again. It was no wonder that they hoped to be slaves of Russians or Swedes, for with attitudes like that it was unlikely that they would be regimented enough to be able to support a sustained independence - if they were even able to procure it, that was. von Demmerling was glad that Baron-Colonel Ramsay finally interceded to deal with his rambunctious daughter, for this time, if nothing had been done, von Demmerling was unsure if he would have been able to restrain himself from offering at least a verbal rebuke of his own. Ramsay turned to speak to von Demmerling now, and he found himself replying:

"If you wish, Baron-Colonel. Like I say I do not wish to cause dissent in your house. But neither do I wish to cause insult, and if you are offering another glass of your fine Jaloviina, then how could I ever refuse?"

In truth, the native brandy was one of the most vile drinks von Demmerling had ever tasted - and that included Russian vodka, British beer and stale and rotting French trench water - but at the present, after the discourse he had just sat through, he felt that he could use some social lubrication. And more to the point, it was clear that the Baron enjoyed it deeply, and as insistent as he was in offering his guest one, von Demmerling had no choice but to consent. He was now, like it or not, what amount to a diplomat, and he had no intention of angering or disrespecting his host. He had been truthful enough on that part, whatever the young Baroness had mesmerized herself into believing. Junker graces would not allow that, even without his vital mission which, not to put too fine a point on it, might very well mold the entire course of not just Finland, Germany, and the war but all the nations of Europe and their colonial empires.

Soon enough the entire ensemble retired to the parlor, where von Demmerling and Baron Ramsay split into a single group while the children congregated around the fireplace. von Demmerling was glad enough of the development; it left him free to engage in the discussion that had been his initial reason for being invited back to the Baron's home without having to worry about another insolent intercession from the girls - although he did succumb to a rather dire fit of coughing when the Baron lit up another of his favorite cigars, causing him to quickly stub it out and von Demmerling to, somewhat embarrassedly, offering profuse apologies. They proceeded in discussing their original topic, that of the relative merits of the German and Russian armies along the Eastern Front, the political reorganization of the Red Army under Trotsky and what the recent developments of the war - the removal of Russia and the arrival of the Americans, along with the resumption of uninterrupted submarine warfare - could mean for the strategic situation. von Demmerling was sure that the Kriegsmarine would starve Britain out of the war and the redirection of troops from the East to the French front would soon capture Paris before any appreciable number of Yankee troops could spell doom for the Central Powers. Baron Ramsay was far too diplomatic to argue the point, especially since, whether with Sweden or Germany, his country was now more or less opposed to the Allied cause, however nominally.

A quarter-hour or so later they were interrupted again, this time by Elisabeth stating that she was leaving. von Demmerling bowed, taking her hand and kissing it. "This evening was most enjoyable, Baroness. I quite understand, no need to apologize. Although I would hope that in the future you will grow somewhat more accustomed to visitors of 'my kind.'" He smiled at her, just a slight bit wolfishly, before cocking his eyebrows at her parting suggestion.

"Oh dear, Baron von Demmerling, you must excuse her," Baron Ramsay stated, obviously a bit flustered, once she left. "She is usually not in such a state. You must not think poorly on her because of it; she is under a degree of strain now, as are we all, indeed. Ah, now, let me get you that book," he finished, obviously looking for an excuse to leave his guest's presence for several moments after the embarrassing outburst, although von Demmerling politely nodded, pretending to be none the wiser. He - very gladly - turned his attention to the remaining occupant of the room when she began to talk.

"Ah. I see. Thank you for explaining it to me," he said once she was finished, smiling tightly more at watching the young thing blush so exquisitely rather than because of anything amusing she spoke - and I wonder what the reason for that blush is? "Yet I must say that I do not grasp the relevance. No doubt that is due more to a devotion of me to my worldview than the descriptive powers of your sister or yourself. I am schooled in the concept of realpolitik. As such I do not see how a national personification can have any interplay with a total war such as this, beyond the obvious propaganda values."

He smiled again, warmer this time, as she bashfully looked down at the floor, offering her apologies. "As I said, no apologies are necessary. I am intruding in your home during a clearly-difficult and divisive time. Nevertheless, as long as this is between the two of us...It was rather shocking. My own father was - still is, I imagine - quite the disciplinarian, and my brother and I were both quick to be sent to military academy in our youths. And I had no sister and little memory of my mother. I can only imagine that the absence of the feminine influence only exacerbated my father's natural tendencies."

von Demmerling closed his mouth, observing the young woman, and had opened it again, about to say something, when Baron Ramsay returned, bearing in hand the book that they had been discussing, a rare second edition printing of Goldstein's Theory and Practice of Oligarchical Collectivism that he had quite generously offered to allow von Demmerling to read. Seeing that the other daughter had already left and sensing the friction between the remaining Ramsays, von Demmerling took this opportunity to bid them a good evening.

"Baron, I must thank you for an evening that, while perhaps slightly unorthodox, was still more pleasant than dining alone in a foreign land. I shall no doubt speak with you on the morrow. And Baroness," von Demmerling again turned to bow and kiss the outstretched hand of a Ramsay daughter, "I must in turn thank you for explaining Aura to me, and for making me feel welcome in your house. It is my sincere wish that I experience the blessing of your presence again in the near future."

Book under arm, von Demmerling left the apartment - pausing to succumb to another, rather more severe fit of coughing brought on by the frigid and dry air - before stepping onto the carriage that was waiting to take him to the inn he was staying at. The ride was short, but cold and bumpy, and it left him with ample opportunity to reflect on the family that he was sure he would soon be seeing much more of.

Elisabeth Ramsay

Amidst the cold and the uncertainties it seemed that Sanna shone like a beacon. There was something very moving about her faith and the way that she applied the principles of the same to her every-day life. True, Elisabeth did consider herself a Christian, yet for her it had been more of decorum than anything else. God and Country. The Tsar had been left out of the equation, even though Father had served in the Imperial Army.

She offered her friend the shadow of a smile as she felt her fingers closing on her hand. "I guess you're right Sanna, and now seems as good a time as any doesn't it?" Elisabeth gently disentangled her hand from hers as she leaned forward. resting her hands on the pew to their front, noticing how Sanna was once more closing her eyes, a serene smile gracing her features as she too prayed, and for the umpteenth time during the evening, Elisabeth thought of herself as a hypocrite. There was nothing she could ask for, nor did she believe that God would care to address her prayers. He hadn't done so before. Not knowing what to do she found herself reciting the Lord's Prayer, but without much conviction.

Elisabeth finished the prayer with a hushed 'amen' and made to get up from the pew, offering Sanna the merest hint of a smile. Then, as an after thought she recalled her friend's offer to keep her company. Usually, Elisabeth would have politely declined, but something about the current situation made her change her mind. Perhaps it was the looming clouds and the heavy snow-fall that had brought on her change of heart, or the fact that Sanna seemed so out of place here. They spoke the same language, and for all intents and purposes they shared the same culture, but whereas Elisabeth considered herself to be living within the same, Sanna appeared to be something of a visitor. Perhaps it was that innocence that had made the two strike up such an accord in such a short space of time, or if she was to be honest with herself, it was more likely that Sanna had come to embody all the traits of the younger sister whom Elisabeth had long since abandoned.

"You know, I still got some cocoa left." She offered Sanna the first genuine smile of the evening as she stood up and adjusted her scarf. Through the course of the war, luxuries such as cocoa had been rationed, and the beans had been saved for a special occasion. "Would be a shame not to drink it don't you think?" Sanna returned her smile with a brilliant one of her own, and in the shimmering lights of the candles, she looked much younger than her years.

They walked the short distance to Elisabeth's flat, the narrow streets lit by the flickering gaslights, and the city shrouded in a veil of snow, but the Aura river was still flowing. Passing over one of the bridges, Elisabeth felt compelled to stop.

"You know the legend don't you Sanna?" She squeezed her hand through the gloves. "Aura, the daugther of Svea, having to assume the role of guardian of this country when she was separated from her mother. Through the dark years, she was the custodian of the law and the culture. Guarding it from the oppressor." Elisabeth smiled sadly. "She's portrayed, not wearing armour like Svea or Germania but dressed as a peasant girl. I guess that with things looking as bleas as they are we could have done with a warrior rather." She looked up at Sanna, suddenly feeling a stab of worry. "Perhaps you ought to go to Stockholm for the duration, I mean if the worst should happen. I'm sure your mother would go with you as well."

She knew that it had been the wrong thing to say, although Sanna would never use such terms herself. With the quiet grace that Elisabeth had come to closely associate with her friend, Sanna gently spelled out the arguments against such a cause of action. The fact that Finland was her country now, that the Reverend Lantzelius would not take lightly if she were to leave now, and that if war did break out then she would have to do what she could as a nurse to ease the suffering of the people.

Sanna had a point, more than one come to that. Yet it hurt Elisabeth that the fact that her friend was so adamant in her decision to stay, would put her in harm's way. Even so there was some consolation from the fact that her friend's position. At least Elisabeth wouldn't have to suffer through what would happen on her own. She gave her hand another squeeze as they set of again. Snow falling heavily and covering the footprints they left.

Kristina Ramsay

"Baron, I must thank you for an evening that, while perhaps slightly unorthodox, was still more pleasant than dining alone in a foreign land. I shall no doubt speak with you on the morrow. And Baroness...I must in turn thank you for explaining Aura to me, and for making me feel welcome in your house. It is my sincere wish that I experience the blessing of your presence again in the near future."
For the briefest of moments, Kristina found herself at a loss for words. She had had the back of her hand kissed a thousand times before but whether it was von Demmerling's tone or the odd silence that had preceeded it before her father's return she couldn't say for certain. Whatever the reason, Kristina merely smiled and felt warmth colouring her cheeks again as she lowered her eyes and replied softly.
"You are very welcome and I also hope to see you again..."

Kristina retook her seat while her father showed their guest to the door. Letting her eyes drift to the fire.
"Well, that wasn't quite how I had envisaged the evening to pass..." Gustav Ramsay muttered bluntly, refilling his glass and sitting down heavily in his seat.
Kristina refrained from comment, she knew her father well enough to know that this was only the beginning of his speech. Silently she cursed Elisabeth for having caused his mood and for having managed to escape from it so effectively and unscathed.

"That man, that honourable man, was my guest...our guest and I thought my daughters would know how to carry themselves in such company, but it seems I was mistaken. At your ages such behaviour is unthinkable."
"I'm truly sorry, Papa..." Kristina said softly, keeping her eyes lowered, her fingers fiddling in her lap. "The last thing I ever want to do is disappoint you..."
Gustav Ramsay grumbled something unintelligible in response. Sighing Kristina stood and moved to stand behind his chair, lifting her hands to his shoulders and rubbing them slowly.

"I don't quite know why Elisabeth and I behave the way we do, we never used to and it saddens me as much as I know it saddens you..."
"I'm just relieved your mother never saw the way your relationship has gone..." Gustav replied, his voice slightly hoarse. Even after all these years, he missed Anna so very much.

Silence followed. Gustav slowly sipped his cognac. Kristina continued to rub his shoulders. Both lost in their thoughts.

"Papa, I should go...the snow is getting heavier and I want to get in before it gets too late..."
"Why don't you come back here, back home...?" Gustav asked, twisting slightly to look at her over his shoulder. "You could take your old room and then I wouldn't have to worry about you slipping in weather such as this..."
It was the closest to an outpouring of emotion as Kristina expected to hear and it touched her regardless of how meagre it might seem to others.

"Oh Papa..." She smiled, leaning down to kiss his cheek. Regardless of her behaviour, she knew he loved her as he always had. "You know how much I miss home but I like my appartments. But I shall make you a promise, should things go the way you expect and should the fighting come here...I promise I will move back home with you...to protect you from the oncoming troubles as much as ease your worries..." She teased lightly, drawing a much desired smile from her father's lips.

Soon enough, Kristina was walking with her head bowed back towards her appartment. The snow swirled around and despite how uneven it made the footing, it was a stunning sign that winter was fast approaching. Deciding she could bear the cold a little longer, she took a longer route home. Turning away from the cathedral and walking through the park, allowing herself time to take in the sparkling scenery and the peaceful silence that surrounded her. To her immense surprise, she also found her thoughts drifting to von Demmerling more than once although once again the reason eluded her.

Wrapping her scarf a little closer, not only to shield her face from the chilling wind but to hide the slight smile that was now curving her lips in case she met anyone she knew, Kristina turned towards her home. A cup of tea and a good book awaited her and Kristina could not imagine a better way to end her evening.

Suddenly she slipped, cursing quietly as she lost her footing on the pavement, snow giving way to the ice beneath. She managed to retain a little of her balance but she did land rather inelegantly upon her knees whilst preventing herself from landing on her face. Although she wanted to blame the slip on the weather conditions alone, she could not. Her mind had not been focused upon her footing as much as it had upon what von Demmerling might be doing. Whether he was reading her father's precious book or whether he had merely taken it to be polite. Perhaps he was writing a letter to his family or maybe to a lover...

Kristina forced herself to stop thinking such things. The private affairs of a man that she barely knew were absolutely nothing to do with her and should be the last thing she should be thinking of.
"Oh grow up Kristina...you're acting like a little girl...!" She chided herself, standing up a little shakily, her heart thumping loudly in her ears from the shock, she brushed the snow from her coat and continued on her way, after a quick glance around to make sure she had not been seen. This time her mind focused entirely upon the pavement before her.

Erich von Demmerling

The hansom brought him to the edge of the hotel he was staying at, and Major von Demmerling exited quickly into the door of the lobby propped open by the fortunately-attentive doorman. Before the cold and dry air could worm its way down into his injured lung and give him another heaving fit, von Demmerling was thankfully back inside a building that at least offered an attempt at warmth and amenities. This damned weather. He was glad that he had avoided being posted for duty along the Ostfront; he wanted to smash Reds and he might well get his chance soon enough, but to be out on the front night after night in weather like this and with a lung like his...the von Demmerlings were Junkers and would go wherever the Supreme Warlord ordered, but as it was Erich was half certain that even this posting would see him die of pneumonia. And after the infection that he had caught in the infirmary, that was neither an idle worry nor a pleasant food for thought.

Neither pleasant were the looks many of his fellow patrons - other than the other few German officers and diplomats, most were Scandinavian or domestic businessmen - and the Finnish staff gave him. So ungrateful, as if they had already fought for and won the independence from Russia that they all seemed to celebrate. The real reason that he was even here, of course, was that Lenin had been forced to agree to the independence proclamation of the former Grand Duchy due to the fact that his armies were tied up along the Ostfront. German blood and soil, four years of it almost, had been the price for the supposedly "bloodless" coup that had allowed the Finns to established their vaunted new state. As if they could have prevented the Russians, whether they followed the Czar or Kerensky or Lenin or Rasputin, from maintaining their stranglehold on Finland if they had had half a chance.

No, von Demmerling decided as he made his way up to his room, switching on the flickering and dim electric lights - a benefit of being in a hotel located in a large city and designed for upper-class clientèle. Let the Red Revolution reach Finland. Let Trotsky unleash a Red Terror. Let the Red Guards burn and pillage and rape and murder those same complacent self-satisfied nobles who grew so stodgy under two hundred years of slavery and pandering to the Czar. Let Mannerheim and his "army" do nothing but suffer defeat after defeat. Let the Finns see what a sham their "struggle for independence" had been so far, how hollow their "victory" by Petrograd proclamation had been. All of history was founded on struggle. In this case, the Bolshevik uprising to reclaim Finland would be a good thing.

Especially when it was crushed beneath the iron heels of the German Army, and the Finns could see whose side their real interests lay. After a few thousand of them were murdered by Socialists, he was certain that even the like of Elisabeth Ramsay would be willing to give a new reappraisal to the Germans who had saved them. Of course, no doubt their words would then turn to why the Germans hadn't done anything sooner to prevent it. But even that could have their use. Better to become accustomed to complete reliance on Germany than delude themselves into any notions of an equal partnership.

von Demmerling sat down on the hard chair - still more comfortable than anything at the War Academy - and, propping his feet up on the barebones desk that came with it, paged through the book that Baron-Colonel Ramsay had given him. As he did, he thought of the daughter who had given him so much grief. What an odd specimen. Very unique. Her younger sister, as well, though for rather different reasons. She, at least, gave the impression that she could act like a woman - noble or otherwise; from his own experience, it always seemed that the higher a woman's station, the less traditional she acted - ought to.

At that, von Demmerling closed the book, placing it on his desk. He had read it before, it was a good book; but he was tired, and he would have a long day ahead of him tomorrow. Quickly disrobing, and even quicker sliding under the sheets to escape the cold that seemed to insinuate its feelers everywhere, von Demmerling quickly went to sleep, the last imagine on his eyes that of a map of Finland across the room. He imagined it turning red with blood...

* * * * *

"Albert! NO!"

von Demmerling shot up from the bed, sweat dotting his limbs, making him clammy and even colder. Shaking for a second, he brought his hands up to his face, rubbing his eyes. A dream, that was all it was. Just another dream. The same one, in fact. The trenches, again. Those damned, never ending trenches...

He looked over at the clock, squinting in the dark. It was early, even for him. Still, he knew he would never get back to sleep, not now. Better to make the best of it. Rising from the bed, he made his way to the small bathroom, entering into the shower. He screamed again, a yell of release as the frigid water hit him, but he made himself stay in it. Pneumonia be damned, and it would soon pass with at least tepid water. He wanted to prove to himself that he was still tough, still could articulate mind over body. It was just pathetic that this was the only way he could so, but it was better than nothing, better than worrying over whether he had completely lost everything. He shuddered again, with the water having nothing to do with it. Verdun. He hated those memories.

A short time later, he was dressed and ready for the day...Although well aware that the day was not ready for him. Baron-Colonel Ramsay was old. He had earned his sleep, at least he told himself. von Demmerling occupied himself with flipping through the book for a while, before the feeling of going crazy - of being trapped with the sweaty, clammy bed where he had slept poorly again - finally convinced him to head out for breakfast. He wasn't particularly hungry, but at least it would absorb the time.

On the street, von Demmerling marveled at how much snow had accumulated even during the brief night. As he walked down the street towards a small eatery he had grown fond of, there was a distinct sensation of walking through a tunnel of ice. As he turned the corner he paused, staring at a familiar face on the other side of the street. Pausing a moment, he hurried across, coming up alongside the figure.

"Good morning, Baroness Ramsay," he said to Kristina, bowing and kissing her hand again. "I must say, this is quite a surprise encounter. I was on my way to breakfast, would you care to join me?"

Kristina Ramsay

It was still dark when Kristina opened her eyes, pulling the blanket up over her chin and snuggling a little deeper into bed she let her eyes move to the window. The glass was decorated with frost, framing the wintry view beyond it.
After enjoying the warmth of her bed for a little longer, warmth that was emphasised by the ice and snow outside, Kristina eventually pushed back the blankets and slid from beneath them. She stood and stretched slightly, arching her back in an almost feline way while her eyes wandered to the looking glass on her dressing table. Tipping her head to the side slightly she moved closer to it and glanced over her reflection in an appraising manner.

Her hair was loose and hung down past her shoulders. It’s thick, rolling, honey coloured waves had been one of her mother’s favourite things about her and she couldn’t think of cutting it. Not yet. Kristina brushed it idly, sitting on the chair and once again returning her thoughtful gaze to the mirror before her. She looked a little pale but that was how the majority of people looked at this time of year. The lack of sun and the cold climate meant there were very few who did not have the same complexion she currently sported. Kristina knew that once she had woken up fully her cheeks would have regained their natural rosy colouring and her currently dozy eyes would be brighter. She gave the young woman in the mirror a happy, contented smile before moving to the bathroom.

Her apartments were small but functional. It had taken no small amount of persuasion on her part to convince her father that she could manage to live alone and given that she wanted to move as far away as she could from the family home, within reason of course, her budget had been limited. She had a small bathroom and the water was warm, she had yet to experience a morning when her shower had been less than bearable. There was a small hallway, her bedroom and a small sitting room. It was all she needed and it hadn’t needed much by way of decoration to make it liveable.

After showering and dressing, she sat beside the fire and read for a while whilst waiting for her hair to dry enough to allow her to go out. She had an appointment. She was meeting with a few friends for tea and to talk about various things including the impending war. Her friends held similar views to herself, views that she daren’t share completely with her Papa and Elisabeth. She knew they were aware she favoured the Fennomans’ way of thinking but she seriously doubted they believed she had any connection with them and that was how she hoped things would stay.

Once she was satisfied she wouldn’t catch a chill, she wrapped a scarf around her neck and then pulled on her coat. It had been her mother’s and although it was a little on the snug side, she adored it. Besides, in times like these, a woollen coat was a woollen coat and it was awfully warm and its long length ensured the bitter Scandinavian winds didn’t bite at her legs through her skirts either. She pinned a little of her hair back from her face but left the rest hanging down her back, she didn't have the time or inclination to pin it all up as carefully as she usually did.

She walked quickly, but carefully, down the street with her hands deep within her pockets and her head down. She was so wrapped up in concentrating upon not slipping again that the voice that suddenly spoke from beside her startled her.
"Good morning, Baroness Ramsay…”
Kristina gasped quietly as she stopped and looked up to see the smiling face of von Demmerling beside her. She smiled and bowed her head slightly as he lifted her hand to kiss it.
“Good morning, Baron von Demmerling…” Kristina replied, hoping he would attribute the glow that had rushed to her cheeks to the cold rather then to anything more embarrassing like the remembrance of her fall the previous evening whilst thinking about him.
"I must say, this is quite a surprise encounter. I was on my way to breakfast, would you care to join me?"
“It is indeed, but that is not to say the surprise is unwelcome…” She started before faltering.

Her friends, Maria and Lasse and the others would no doubt be waiting for her but she could hardly say such a thing to him. If she claimed a prior engagement he may well offer to accompany her and to refuse such accompaniment would be unforgivable. Better to accept than risk upsetting her father’s associate again. Besides, dining with a handsome man wouldn’t be entirely without it’s positives she reasoned.

“I would be delighted to join you but only on one condition...” Kristina’s smile grew wider as von Demmerling’s brow cocked slightly, entreating her to explain further.
“Whenever I hear you call me ‘Baroness Ramsay’ I find myself looking for my dear mother…or my sister…” She added, unable to keep the slight laugh from her voice that rose up inside her at the mention of Elisabeth.
“If I am to share a meal with you, I insist that you call me Kristina…titles have no place at the breakfast table in my opinion and certainly not between friends. After all, will we not be dining as more than acquaintances now that we have already enjoyed a meal in each other’s company…?”

Kristina knew her words and tone, not to mention her almost coy expression, could be perceived as leaning towards the flirtatious but her purpose was merely to set the slightly stiff gentleman at ease. At least, she thought that was what her purpose was although when she found herself having to refrain from curving her lips into an almost pouting smile as she awaited his response, her certainty about it wavered slightly.

“Did you have a restaurant in mind…?” Kristina continued after a pause had passed between them. “There are several very nice places in this area…” She added before they began to walk and he explained he had been heading to one place in particular.

Soon enough they reached the eatery von Demmerling had spoken off and he moved to open the door for her. Fate, it seemed, had other plans and as Kristina stepped up onto the first step she slipped on the ice and for the second time in as many days, she found herself tumbling down onto the snow covered pavement. Nothing was hurt except her pride but her insistence that she was fine came too late to stop von Demmerling from coming to her aid.

von Demmerling carefully helped her up and even went so far as to brush some of the snow from the front of her coat. Kristina was far too embarrassed to stop him, whatever could his opinion of her be now. Clumsy or just stupid?
When she finally dared raising her eyes shyly to his they were met by a smile that brightened his eyes and changed his expression almost entirely. Without a word he moved his arm towards her. Blushing profusely, she took his offered arm and allowed him to lead her inside.

Sanna Lantzelius

"I hope I didn't come off to harshly giving you my reasons for staying here. I do so appreciate you looking after me. You're the only here to do so." She smiled a little, feeling little snow flakes land on her lips. "But I am not worried. I am in good hands. I am in the hands of God and He has brought me here for a reason." Sanna's blue eyes looked over the snow-covered homes and trees. Everything seemed so peaceful and pure. War didn't make sense to her. It seemed no matter where one went it persisted. She had often sought answers and alternatives to it. She questioned her father for hours and even more hours she spent in prayer. Some things it seemed she simply was not destined to understand.

Faith aside, it was uncomfortable knowing she was potentially so close to the conflict. She was relatively secluded in Chicago, safely tucked away in the middle of America. Of course there were dangers there, but her father and mother had done their best to keep her out of harms way. Their efforts were rewarded by the respect her community had for the youngest Lantzelius. Her innocence was unquestionably intact, her virtue was well-praised, her kindness unparalleled. Her father was often approached by young men and their parents but he had never found any of them good enough for his daughter. Sanna didn't resent this. She knew eventually that God would provide a suitable match for her and, thus far, he had not. Of course she had seen a number of her friends become young brides but she had every confidence in her father's ability to choose her mate for her. He was a man of God, after all.

She pulled her scarf more tightly around her neck, pulling it up slightly so that it covered the lower part of her face, the scratchy material tickling the underside of her nose. She would be silent the rest of the short walk to Elisabeth's flat. Her friend's gloved hand quickly unlocked the door and the two hurried in to get out of the harsh cold.

Elisabeth moved quickly toward the fireplace but Sanna gently placed her hand on the other woman's to stop her. "You make the cocoa, I'll tend to the fire. It is the least I can do to thank you for your kind hospitality." She smiled warmly and her smile was reciprocated with an equally affectionate one from Elisabeth. She coaxed the fire to life and stood in front of it, drawing in its warmth to her shivering form. "Your place is very nice, Elisabeth. It suits you." Shrugging off her jacket and hanging it on the coatrack she went off in search of her friend, following the sounds of dishes coming from the kitchen. "Are you feeling better now? I hate to see you troubled."

Elisabeth Ramsay

"No I don't think you did Sanna, although I beg you to reconsider your decision." Elisabeth offered her friend a smile and gave her gloved hand another squeeze. She knew that Sanna would ponder the question and return to the same position as she had stated. For all her child-like innocence there was a strength to her which never ceased to amaze Elisabeth.

They walked the short way to her flat, it was a few rooms at the back of one of the villas belonging to the staff at the Academy. Elisabeth dallied, as she referred to it, helping out at the Library. For a member of the House of Nobility that was as close as one could come to a vocation. She had once played with the idea of becoming a governess, but the whole idea of having to spend her days around children did not really hold any appeal to her. Perhaps it was selfish a position, but ever since her mother had passed away Elisabeth had hated the very idea of a family of her own. The strained relation to both Father and Kristina was ample enough proof of that. Then again, her relation to Sanna could very well be compared to that of two sisters. Her friend had in a way come to fill the void left by Kristina, and although Elisabeth would only admit to that in the privacy of her own mind, she knew that she tried to make up for the trespasses against her own sister through her friend.

She was gently but surprisingly firmly ushered into the kitchen to tend to the refreshments as Sanna went about tending the fire. The rooms were reasonable at the cost the Professor charged, yet if they had a drawback, it was the fact that they were freezing cold. She went about the process of lighting the stove and then preparing the drinks. God she really missed the times when they didn't have to ration foodstuffs. Then again, in those days they had been Russian subjects rather than citizens of an independent country.

Elisabeth felt her temper flare as she recalled the conversation with von Demmerling. The man was an absolute idiot, no different from the Russian aristocrats who had ruled the Empire. Thankfully she was interrupted in her rather sad reveries as Sanna entered, offering her a sincere smile and helping her put the cups on the table. The girl was an angel in human raiment, Elisabeth had told her so on more than one occasion, which had caused Sanna some embarrasment.

"I am feeling better, thank you" Elisabeth smiled as she sipped from the hot drink. "Although I think we'll all have to expect the worst in the next weeks. Father believes there will be a war, and with the Russians and the Germans involved it may be that they are going to use our people as pawns to settle the big score." She sat back, suddenly feeling very tired. "You understand that you're probably going to be conspcripted as a nurse and all." She reached out to pat Sanna's hand. "If that happens do promise me to be careful, since I guess I cannot convince you to leave." She offered her friend the shadow of a smile. "It's getting late, if you want to you can stay the night. I'd hate for you having to walk home on your own."

****

The flat seemed quite lonely after Sanna had departed. Her shift at the hospital began early and she had risen from the couch were she had spen the night before Elisabeth had gotten round enough to say good bye. As oppose to Ms Lantzelius, Elisabeth was not a morning person, in all honesty she couldn't make her mind work before noon-time, or at least so it felt. She decided against having breakfast on her own. Getting dressed and then heading down-town. The best way to get the news were at the Grand Hotel, and with the added bonus of coffee and a croissant. As she entered the foyer, she noticed out of the corner of her eye that Kristina was there. Now that was quite strange. Her sister had lately come to show quite the discernable distaste for the trappings of such a bourgeouise place as the Grand Hotel. Elisabeth discreetly scanned the dining room, realizing that Kristina was not there on her own but escorted, if that was the right word by none other than Major von Demmerling.

Elisabeth regally strode through the room, her cheeks flush with colour merited by the sudden onset of anger. Who did this man think he was? Not only did he behave in a way that by right would be called imperialistic, but he also had the audacity to try and court her sister. She reached their table, giving her sister an icy stare and then turning to the German officer.

"Do tell me Baron, is it customary among your fellow Junkers to be seen with the daughter of your host like this? I'm sure my Father would be less than pleased should he know about this." She didn't wait for a reply and even as von Demmerling began phrasing such she held up her hand to stave him off. "Kristina, you're coming with me this minute. Thank God Mother isn't alive to see what have become of you."

Erich von Demmerling

von Demmerling grinned in respone to Baroness Ramsay's own smile, and was surprised to feel that it was more than mere courtesy. Well, and why shouldn't it be? Kristina was pleasant enough in both looks and demeanor, and had been the only one to make any overtures even approaching friendliness, with even Baron-Colonel Ramsay acting merely polite and accommodating and even those who he was to work with in the Finnish Defense Forces openly hostile to him. Kristina was at least making an effort not to display her hate, and that was something. Plus, she had just agreed to spend time with him. He wouldn't admit it and certainly not to her but after his night in dreams he did not want to be alone.

von Demmerling found him looking at her quizzically as he heard her state she had a condition, with his confusion becoming somewhat more enhanced when she said what it was. He noted her use of the phrase 'more than acquaintances' and the playfully bashful look on her face and laugh in her voice as she spoke it. How utterly different than her sister, and certainly much more enjoyable to spend any amount of time with. His slight frown lasted only a second, and was replaced with a smile.

"Well, if that is the price I must pay for such delightful company, then it is one I shall gladly pay, Kristina. After all, I am a stranger to this land and seeing as it is just the two of us now, I suppose that that would make you my hostess, and I certainly would not want you to think me a poor guest. In return, I of course insist you call me...Erich." He began to walk with her, thinking.

Erich. When was the last time he had asked anyone to address him by that name? His parents had addressed him as such, of course, although his mother was long gone and his father was increasingly in the habit of calling him 'boy', 'son', or later, by his military rank. Albert had called him Erich, and with none of the stuffiness of Father, but he...Anyways, several of his classmates and fellow officers had called him by his Christian name, as had Luise of course. So it was not a first in being called it. But it certainly seemed a first in being asked to be addressed so.

"As it turns out, I do have such a place in mind, Kristina," von Demmerling continued in response to her question, using her Christian name almost as if eager to test it now that he had permission to do so, and finding that he did like it. "A small place I've grown to like somewhat, especially as it is not particularly taxing on my wallet and does not serve large meals - I am not a heavy eater, at least not before dinner. Although if it does not suit your tastes I of course am more than amenable to going elsewhere," he added, eager to demonstrate that the end of formal address between them was not the end of his polite manners.

As they arrived and he opened the door, von Demmerling was horrified to see Kristina slip and take a spell upon the icy pavement of the sidewalk. "Kristina! Are you all right?" he asked, ignoring her claims that she was and required no help, bending down to help her to her feet and, in the process, enjoying the brief touch of her side against his, no matter how many layers of clothing it came through. He had been at war for four years now, with no women save nurses for him to even glimpse, and even then he had often been under anaesthesia. If he had a brief pause for somewhat heated thoughts, then no one could blame him, surely...

von Demmerling helped brush Kristina off, enjoying the shy, furtive glance she directed up into his own face as he did so, and enjoying even more the blushing acceptance of his arm as he led her inside. He led her to a table, holding her chair out for him before sitting, and ordering a tea with toast and a boiled egg. The tea would be good to warm and fortify him, but he doubted he would even get through such a meager portion of food, although he would certainly force himself too rather than provide even more cause for the ration-suffering neighbors to give him more of a dirty stare. He had to hold in a snort. As if they knew what real rationing was. Once they started to make ersatz coffee out of acorns, and slaughter horses for steak, then he would feel sympathy for them.

Thankfully Kristina too up much of his attention that otherwise would have been absorbed by reciprocating the angry looks that met him, even by many of the staff, and it was he was chuckling appreciatively to a small witticism she had offered that they both looked over at the presence of a new arrival, and finding it to be none other than a flushed and angered Elisabeth. von Demmerling felt his smile fall into his usual stern iron facade even before she opened those pursed lips to let out the by-now anticipated torrent of most unladlylike bile.

"Now you will see here, Baroness Ramsay," von Demmerling said as he rose, trying to keep his anger in check and forcing himself not to address her by any number of altogether more appropriate appellations that crossed his mind. It was not just the fact that she dared to cut him off in mid sentence, but that she also directed her anger upon her sister, who von Demmerling could guess had a history of being rather more pliant to Elisabeth than von Demmerling would ever be. Picking on the little person who was too small to fight for themselves. How that angered him.

"Is it customary among your House of Nobility to hurl such churlish and bitter invectives against one's own siblings and honored guests? I am quite sure that the Colonel would be rather displeased about this if you were to tell him, considering that I can only imagine what embellishments you might see fit to add." von Demmerling closed his mouth. There went his anger again. Taking a deep breath, he continued, calmer.

"Baroness Ramsay. Despite what you might think, this was not premeditated; your sister and I met on the street, both heading towards breakfast, and decided to accompany one another. If our intentions were dishonorable than surely we would have gone somewhere rather less discrete. Now, it seems that you, too, came here to eat. Why not sit with us?" von Demmerling, with what he hoped was a natural gesture and what was surely one of the more selfless acts of magnanimity the century had ever seen, indicated the table's empty chair.

Kristina Ramsay

Whether it was the light of day or the changed surroundings or simply the absence of her sister, Kristina couldn't say but something seemed different about the man sat opposite her. Sipping his tea and making polite conversation about this and that. von Demmerling, Erich, was polite and even humourous in his own way. He listened attentively and responded more than appropriately to her own comments.

What had started as something rooted in a sense of responsibility was rapidly developing into something far more enjoyable. von Demmerling was obviously well educated and well travelled, despite the majority of his travels having resulted from warfare. As much as she was determined to dislike him, Kristina was finding it increasingly hard to do so. Their views on the world and, more importantly, on Finland's future were so very, very different but for all that, Kristina had all but forgotten her prior engagement and was even contemplating inviting von Demmerling to a concert of classical music she had been planning on attending later that week. Circumstances permitting of course. Most of the young musicians would most likely be called up should the war break out anytime soon.

So, to say that the arrival of Elisabeth put a damper on things was something of an understatement. Kristina actually felt her heart sink moments before her stomach tightened upon seeing her older sister's expression. This, she knew from years of prior experience, would most likely be an unpleasant scene.

"Do tell me Baron, is it customary among your fellow Junkers to be seen with the daughter of your host like this? I'm sure my Father would be less than pleased should he know about this."
"Now you will see here, Baroness Ramsay,"
"Kristina, you're coming with me this minute. Thank God Mother isn't alive to see what have become of you."
Kristina had barely opened her mouth to announce that she had been old enough for some time now to decide how and where to spend her time, not to mention who with when, to her delighted surprise, von Demmerling spoke first.

Kristina had to fight against smiling. Despite the nervous fluttering in the pit of her stomach, she almost felt something akin to pride as von Demmerling, Erich a voice in her head reminded her teasingly, returned Elisabeth's clumsy accusation with one far more precise.

"Sister, dear, do you not think you are over reacting slightly...you seem to be insinuating that the honorable Baron and myself are ensconsed in some clandestine affair...something I think highly doubtful since we met for the first time last night." Kristina met her sister's eyes squarely. Arguing was something the pair had honed into something of an art although it was one Kristina preferred not to share with the public at large.

"Had you stayed longer you would have seen the Baron leave our home alone and before myself...perhaps then your clearly overactive imagination would be at ease." Her tone was pointed to say the least and her meaning completely unveiled. It could almost be called challenging.

"Perhaps it is bourne less out of concern for mine and our family's reputation than it is jealousy..." She added quietly. Almost too quietly to be heard but she could tell from Elisabeth's face that the subtle jab had not missed it's target. It was a low blow and she wasn't entirely proud of herself for saying it but, here she was being spoken to as if she were an errant child and even ladies of breeding had their limitations of what could be endured gracefully.

"Baroness Ramsay. Despite what you might think, this was not premeditated; your sister and I met on the street, both heading towards breakfast, and decided to accompany one another. If our intentions were dishonorable than surely we would have gone somewhere rather less discrete. Now, it seems that you, too, came here to eat. Why not sit with us?"
Kristina's eyebrow rose slightly as she glanced from von Demmerling to her sister. She could think of nothing more tedious than another shared meal with Elisabeth, no matter how informal. Having to do so once a week with father was strenuous enough upon her self-control.

"Elisabeth, we are both adults, are we not? And only last night did we not say we should try to spend more time together...?" Kristina's voice was smooth and belied the disgruntled feeling she was holding down inside her that the pleasant breakfast and pleasant company she had been enjoyed would have to be shared with one who would doubtlessly not appreciate it.

Elisabeth Ramsay

Elisabeth was momentarily taken aback by the German nobleman's outburst, but she quickly regained her poise as she bestowed von Demmerling with an icy stare and an equally frosty retort.

"You'll do well not to presume to know what Colonel Ramsay would think or not. You're presence here is a necessary evil, something we have to live with and while my father might have greeted you with all the honours that belong to a friend of ours you are not Baron von Demmerling."

She held the German's gaze a moment longer before she trailed her eyes to Kristina. Her sister's outburst was just so typical, always assuming that the angelic smile of hers and the tomboyish tongue-in-cheek behaviour would somehow be acceptable.

"And you." Elisabeth intoned the words quietly, yet there was no mistaking the anger that lingered beneath the controllled tone. "Do not for a moment think that you will score any points when behaving like this, and since Father doesn't seem to know when to put his foot down I will have to." She paused her tirade to catch her breath, seeing the colour rise on Kristina's cheeks. There were other points of discontent simmering between the two, it seemed that ever since their mother had passed away, the childhood rivalries and differences had been allowed to grow and deepen. No matter how small a slight might have been, it seemed to grow in size until finally the obstacle it presented was beyond negotiating. "And Kristina." Elisabeth smiled as she looked at her sister again. "Jealousy? You must be trying for a minor witticism. Besides, I do not have any particular fondness of the agents of oppression, be they Russians, Germans or Fennomans."

The last word was delivered with a some flourish, and she could see the colour rise on her sister's cheeks. "And yes we did say we ought to spend time together, and I suppose that in the interest of the greater good I will have to overlook the fact that Baron von Demmerling will be party to our reconciliation." She offered the pair of them an ironic smile as she sat down on von Demmerling's suggestion.

Being handed a menu, and ordering without even consulting it, Elisabeth turned her attention back to the German officer. He had kept rather quiet with the exception of his first outburst. She met his stare as she picked up the cup, sipping the scalding coffee and offering him a smile, although one which didn't reach her eyes.

"Tell me one thing, I'm quite eager to know Baron. It was only a few years since your own chancellor of Prussia set out to unify the German states was it not. Do correct me but the rationale behind it was the fact that the citizens of the various states shared the same language and I presume you could say, culture is that not so Baron?"

She turned her head sharply as Kristina seemed to be about to interrupt, silencing her sister with a hush. "Now I surmise that you've had some time to study our history have you not? If not I'd recommend that you take a stroll around the Cathedral. Do you know who are interred there Baron? The relics of our Patron Saint, a former Queen and one field marshal, one who gained his reputation for putting the fear of God into your countrymen my dear Baron. Anyhow, you speak about non-entities or you did so last night, but imagine that we are allowed to re-forge the ties with the other half of the kingdom. That would be for the best, well obviously not for Germany's best intrersts but let us be honest, I don't care much for those anyway, and neither do you for our cause."

Elisabeth sat back, once again sipping from her cup and watching von Demmerling closely. It may have seem childish but she'd rather have the German show his true colours than hiding behind the pretences of being a friend of her country's. "Incidentally, did you know what my sister prefers? I mean for an outcome of this sordid debacle? A state run by the Fennomans, and you know what that would leave you? A Socialist republic. Now how do you reconicle your Kaiser's" Elisabeth couldn't have poured more venom into the title had she said 'child murderer' "ideas for German hegemony in the Baltic region?"

"Anyhow I think I've overstayed my welcome here." She put the cup down and rummaged through her purse for a banknote. "I wish you a pleasant day Baron and as for you." She turned to her sister again. "Be sure that Father will know about your antics. Good day to you."

She swept from the dining room, the anger still raging inside her as she put the collar of her coat up to stave of the cold. It had been a pointless confrontation, at least as far as Kristina was concerned. Then again, if she acted like that she could damn well suffer the consequences of the same.

Elisabeth hurried her steps, walking towards the library. Work wasn't that taxing, the Head Librarian doing most of the work himself. Not that Elisabeth objected, it gave her time to read, as well as earning her some money of her own.

It was still snowing, the snowflakes forming a heavy sheet on the dwellings and the street, and it made it somewhat hard to distinguish much. Still she didn't have to look twice to recognise the woman walking in front of her. For the first time in the day, Elisabeth felt a smile form on her lips as she increased her pace, offering a greeting as she drew up next to the blonde girl.

"Hello Sanna."

Erich von Demmerling

von Demmerling remained standing, his physique looming over her own smaller body, his eyes boring into Elisabeth Ramsay's own, wondering if she assumed that he - a combat veteran, her elder, and more to the point a man - would somehow flinch away from her. He kept his mouth and indeed his entire face as still in its visage of disapproval as if it were made from stone. He was impassive to her clumsy and honestly, rather poorly tasteful attempts at retorts. And although he did bristle at her attempts to draw Kristina into stopping down to her level - his intentions were surely not what Elisabeth no doubt delighted herself into thinking, but he was a Junker and she was his companion, and he would certainly not let her be slandered in his presence and not say anything - he managed to hold his mouth when he noted, with a degree of pride that was as strange and foreign as any thought could be at this time, that Kristina held herself aloft from her sister's ignoble intentions. No sense in dragging himself in any deeper into what was clearly an established family squabble where his presence was merely a pawn fueling pre-existing tensions.

"Well, I am of course glad to serve in any way possible, my dear Baroness," von Demmerling replied to Elisabeth, hoping the affected friendliness of his words would irritate her further. He maintained standing until after she had sat, less out of a desire for propriety but more to make sure that she in no way had the impression that he would buckle under her. Nevertheless he had to refrain from sighing. Of course she would have accepted his polite invitation to join them and of course she would use it for only the least polite motives. And it had been such a pleasant morning until now. He figured that even if the intrusion was mercifully short-lived neither he nor Kristina would be much of a mood to continue their lighthearted banter afterwards. He was glad he had eaten little, at least now he would not have to be concerned with any bile rising into his throat.

von Demmerling listened as politely as he could to Elisabeth's obviously-loaded, self-serving and factually-tilted question, his silence and facial immobility hopefully passing for a semblance of calm interested and attention. Once more he had to suppress the urge to intervene when she rudely cut off Kristina, but again he somehow found the pure strength within him to suffer through the entire, and by now quite boring and predictable, tirade.

"Are you quite finished, my dear girl?" he asked, pouring kindness into his intonation and enjoying her reaction to being spoken to as if a simple little girl, especially by one she hated. "Might I dare to respond? Or did you intend that entire polemic to be purely rhetorical?" There went his tongue again, and he bit back his next sentence - 'I certainly would not want to defile such a notable speech that will surely go down in the history books of your new nation' - but held back for appearances' sake. Although by this point he really did not understand why he bothered, at least with her, when it was obvious that she was so immaturely hung up on this petty point. Probably it spoke to the poise and awareness of his duties as a nobleman, and that she was so clearly lacking. Or perhaps it was more due to the presence of the third individual at their table.

"It was not merely due to the widespread cultural, linguistic, religious, and historical ties between our peoples that led to the re-establishment of the Empire," he proceeded, his pause giving him a ray of hope that perhaps he would no longer have to suffer the verbal lash. "The German states had already enjoyed a historical union under the Holy Roman Empire, a union severed by the actions of the French regicides and which the vast majority of the German states - from free states to principalities to kingdoms - actively clamored to reforge. Another was that it was only through unity that the German people could defend itself against its revolutionary and traditional enemies. And I might also remind you that while His Majesty is the kaiser of the Imperial union, he also retains his seat as King of Prussia, with all of the other states retaining their original governments and monarchs and that, among them even the Kaiser is merely the head of a single Imperial state."

He paused, smiling at Elisabeth. "Now, that presents a number of differences with Finland which perhaps it would be best for me to explain, so as to ensure you properly understand them?" He allowed a touch of benign condescension creep into his voice, as if he were only too glad to use his superior intellect and experience to explain the ways of the world to the young girl who was too sheltered and uneducated to appreciate them, crossing off each point with the extension of a finger.

"As I said, all of the German states shared the same culture, religion, history, and language. In fact we explicitly rejected any imperial aspirations to expand beyond the natural borders of the German race, to prevent such antagonisms. I trust I need not explain to you how the very existence of the Finnish language renders any claims to the absolute unity of Sweden and Finland moot? Similarly, while all of the German states were unified in their desire to re-establish the Empire, the very existence of Fennomans makes any comparison in this situation untenable, as does the very existence of a Finnish state - for if, as you claim, the people are so desirous of regaining entry to that earthly Paradise we are honored to call Sweden, why did not they immediately proclaim and petition to do so upon Lenin's granting you independence?" A subtle jab at the fact that they were only having this discussion because a Bolshevik dictator had allowed them their independence like a feudal monarch bestowing rights - and just like a feudal monarch, rights he could withdraw at the slightest inclination. "And finally, the continued self-government of the states. I suppose that even you will not allow for a continued Finnish Senate, People's Deputation, monarchy, and self-rule?"

von Demmerling allowed himself to grow somewhat flush for his last words. "As for your questions of my and Kristina's political beliefs, while she may be too polite to press the issue, I assure you, Baroness Ramsay, that I take quite a deal of offense at any proper lady being called a Socialist in my presence. As I said last night, a Finnish state allied with Germany is no contradiction. And while it may be true that your sister and I share different views, I also am aware on how to separate my personal and professional spheres from one another. Tell me, Baroness, in your ideal Finland would one be disallowed to even converse with one whose views differed from your own? Would your Swedish dream enforce ideological segregation and ensure that all citizens must trod your same indoctrinated line? Forgive me, madam, but in that case I believe that you might have more common cause with Lenin than with Mannherheim."

As Elisabeth left, von Demmerling (after sitting down, one always stood when a lady arrived or left, no matter how little she might deserve to termed a 'lady') managed to bite back a farewell of his own - 'for you to have overstayed your welcome would assume that you had been welcome to begin with.' But he had won the argument and to push the case further would have been both petty and unsporting - not to mention, reflect poorly on himself before Kristina. After several moments of silence in which he finished his tea, he finally felt ready to speak to his...companion once more.

"I must apologize, both for whatever it is I have done to antagonize your sister and exacerbate such a rift in your family, and also for my words just now. I did not mean to overstep the bonds of propriety, but I fear in the heat of the moment I forgot that I was facing a civilized conversation and not a Brit over a trench. Yet, forgive me for being so frank, she made several accusations against your person that I could not in good conscience allow to pass within my presence."

He finished his tea in the suddenly awkward moment that passed between them, before laying several notes - enough to pay for himself and both women - picking up the note that Elisabeth left and handing it to Kristina. "However, I also can not in good conscience allow a woman in my presence to pay for a meal. Please see that this is returned to your sister, along with my apologies, although I quite understand if it is some time before the two of you see each other again." He checked his watch, this time sighing out loud - a good compromise to the swearing he might have done otherwise. "I see that this lovely chat has taken up more time than I thought. I am afraid that I will be unable to escort you to your next destination; I must meet your father at the Army barracks soon. I will ensure he hears an account of this before your sister can speak her version, although rest assured I shall take full responsibility and not seek to embellish anything. I wish you a very pleasant day, Kristina, and believe me when I say that our initial conversation was indeed quite enjoyable."

He rose again, bowing and kissing her hand, before making his way to the door. He paused at the entrance, turned around, and returned to Kristina's table. "I wonder if it might be terribly presumptuous of me to inquire whether I might call upon you again soon?" The question slipped out almost before he even knew what he was asking or had time to rephrase - or abandon - it.

Kristina Ramsay

"And you..Do not for a moment think that you will score any points when behaving like this, and since Father doesn't seem to know when to put his foot down I will have to. And Kristina, jealousy? You must be trying for a minor witticism. Besides, I do not have any particular fondness of the agents of oppression, be they Russians, Germans or Fennomans."
Kristina did her best to remain detached and above the situation despite Elisabeth's apparent intentions to drag her down with her but her mouth responded before she could stop it.
"But Swedes are somehow different in your view then I take it?"

The mood around the table changed once more as Elisabeth took her seat. It had gone from one of quiet enjoyment to one of thinly veiled anger and now resentment was brewing in the air. Resentment along with something else in Elisabeth's case. Kristina listened with one eyebrow permanently cocked in an expression of disbelief as Elisabeth recommenced her verbal assault on von Demmerling.

Kristina nearly lost her battle with herself as Elisabeth hushed her attempt at an interruption and change of subject, treating her like a child before von Demmerling and anyone else who might have witnessed the action. She felt less like her sister's junior by only a few years and more like an awkward teenager, out at her first social event who had just committed a grave mistake. Kristina contented herself with merely listening vaguely to her sister's rant towards Erich and letting her eyes drift between the snow floating peacefully down past the window and Erich's face, feeling a stab of something akin to guilt at seeing his expression. He shouldn't have to endure this.

"As for your questions of my and Kristina's political beliefs, while she may be too polite to press the issue, I assure you, Baroness Ramsay, that I take quite a deal of offense at any proper lady being called a Socialist in my presence..."
Kristina felt a surge of warmth rush to her cheeks and she found she couldn't quite look at Erich while he continued to speak. Any confusion she might have felt as to why he was defending her was lost to the wave of delightment she found herself trying to prevent from showing on her face.

As Elisabeth excused herself Kristina let out a sigh she hadn't realised she had been holding back.
"I must apologize, both for whatever it is I have done to antagonize your sister and exacerbate such a rift in your family, and also for my words just now. I did not mean to overstep the bonds of propriety, but I fear in the heat of the moment I forgot that I was facing a civilized conversation and not a Brit over a trench. Yet, forgive me for being so frank, she made several accusations against your person that I could not in good conscience allow to pass within my presence."
"You have nothing to apologize for. My sister and I have not shared a genuine word for too long now and it seems that all you have done in order for her bad tempter to be aimed at you as opposed to me is to, firstly, come to Finland and secondly...spend time, apparently willingly, with me..." Kristina smiled shyly.

"As she does not do it, she cannot understand why others might..." She shrugged a little sadly before sipping at her rapidly cooling tea. The silence that fell over the pair of them growing impossibly loud. The tinkling of cups against saucers, the chinking of silverware against plates, the hum of whispered conversations swirling around them. Although the loudest thing of all was the hammering of Kristina's heart as she struggled to find something to say, anything to say to break the silence and end the tension that seemed to have settled around them.

"However, I also can not in good conscience allow a woman in my presence to pay for a meal. Please see that this is returned to your sister, along with my apologies, although I quite understand if it is some time before the two of you see each other again."
Kristina pocketed the note,
"I will take it to our father's house, I'm sure he will see her before I do..."
"I see that this lovely chat has taken up more time than I thought. I am afraid that I will be unable to escort you to your next destination; I must meet your father at the Army barracks soon. I will ensure he hears an account of this before your sister can speak her version, although rest assured I shall take full responsibility and not seek to embellish anything. I wish you a very pleasant day, Kristina, and believe me when I say that our initial conversation was indeed quite enjoyable."

"It was indeed and...thankyou, for the tea and conversation..." Her voice tailed off as he kissed the back of her hand left. She had wanted to say thank you for attempting to protect her from Elisabeth's tongue but even in her head the words sounded too immature to be believed. Sighing, she raised her teacup to her lips and made to finish it. It was unlikely her friends would still be waiting for her now so the day was hers. She might head in to the park, enjoy the fresh air if it was not too cold.

"I wonder..."
Kristina turned, wide eyed in the direction of the voice, a hopeful smile on her face that she couldn't have stopped even if she had wanted to.
"...if it might be terribly presumptuous of me to inquire whether I might call upon you again soon?"
"Of course..." Kristina all but blurted out, before laughing slightly at herself. As much as she wanted to spend more time with Erich she knew she shouldn't. Something Elisabeth had said had rung slightly true. After all during the daylight hours, propriety could be slightly ignored but after dark, bending the rules could lead to shattered reputations and endless other problems. Not that she was thinking they would be meeting at night...who knows where or when they might.

Closing her eyes for a moment, Kristina wrestled with her apparently out of control imagination. She took a deep breath, aware that the oddly warm flush was creeping back to her cheeks once more.
"I was actually thinking that...perhaps...There is a concert tomorrow night, classical music, that I was thinking of attending...I would be more than happy if you would like to join me...?" Her smile grew hopeful once more.

"They are a local orchestra but there are some very talented players and while the focus of the evening will probably be upon Finnish compositions, I think it might make for a more enjoyable introduction to Finland than the one my sister and I have provided you with thus far..." Her eyes lowered from his face, her teeth catching on her lower lip slightly.

Henry Seton-Watson

Henry Seton-Watson sat on his own at a single table in the Grand Hotel dining room, enjoying his breakfast of coffee and pastries. He had only been in the city of Turku for a couple of days, having arrived from Stockholm on a fishing boat that had brought him across the gulf. Henry was officially the 2nd Military Attaché for the British Embassy in Stockholm. Captain Seton-Watson of the 1st Regiment of Lifeguards was the younger son of the Marquess of Stonehaven, and as a result, he had been destined for the Army since his birth. He received his commission as a 2nd Lieutenant on his 18th birthday and underwent rapid training to command a squadron. Before long, war had broken out and the Household cavalry was fighting in a way it was not used too. Trench warfare.

After a few minor skirmishes, Henry soon found himself, and the Lifeguards, at Zandvoorde where he was promoted to full Lieutenant in command of a section of the line, 2 whole squadrons worth. On the 30th October 1914, the Germans attacked the line in force. The line broke between his command and the next one along and despite his men’s best efforts, good men were cut off and lost. Henry personally led a charge to try and rejoin the line and was on the receiving end of a bullet for his troubles. He was lucky though, it passed through the muscle in his thigh and he fell face first into the mud. His men dragged him to safety and he was ferried back to a field hospital. It was early in the war and as a result he was soon home in England being pampered by his mother as he recovered from the wound.

Promotion came with the wound and he was soon a Captain at the young age of 19. As soon as he could walk again he was dispatched across the North Atlantic to Norway, where he was the military advisor to a group tasked in persuading Norway (although a Neutral in the War) to cut trade links with Germany. He also advised them on national defence, should Germany try to pull them into the war. Soon his assistance was not needed in Oslo any more and he was transferred to His Britannic Majesty's legation in Stockholm.

It had been just over 3 years since what was now know as the First Battle of Ypres and Captain Seton-Watson was preparing himself for a totally different battle. Finland was on edge, The Red Russians were trying to swallow them and the Germans were trying to rule them. Henry’s mission was to accurately discover the feelings of the people and, if possible, to meet with the local Finnish defence forces and convey the worries of His Britannic Majesty’s government. If his information was correct, the commander of the Turku defence forces was Colonel the Baron Gustav Ramsay.

Henry’s grasp of the Swedish language was fairly good, his Finnish was non existent, although he was picking up a few phrases. However, Turku was very much a bilingual city and Swedish was spoken almost as much as Finnish. He laid the local newspaper down on the table and reached for his coffee. Raising it to his lips he lifted his eyes to the room and was surprised to see a man wearing the uniform of The Imperial German Army. His intelligence had failed to mention that small fact and as a result he almost poured his hot coffee into his lap. However, Finland was neutral, at the moment, and so he shouldn’t have been too surprised. The officer was seated with a beautiful honey haired, blue eyed woman, one of the local gentry he assumed.

Henry was not wearing his uniform, although he did have it with him for official meetings with Colonel Ramsay, and was dressed in a simple morning suit, white shirt and tie. He returned to reading the paper, however his mind was now occupied with keeping an eye on the German officer and his companion. He was trying to be discreet about it when a similarly attractive, but more blonde haired, woman stormed into the dining room. Almost everyone’s eyes were on the trio now and being discreet went out the window to be replaced with plain nosey. Henry was seated too far away to catch the conversation but the words Baroness Ramsay …… Kristina ……. Elisabeth ……… Baron von Demmerling……. drifted across the almost quiet dining room. He made out a final sentence before the hubbub rose again to drown them out.

“I do not have any particular fondness of the agents of oppression, be they Russians, Germans or Fennomans.”

It seemed that the second of the two women was by no means pleased at finding the first with the German Officer but had been persuaded to stay for coffee at least. It also appeared that one of the women was Baroness Ramsay, the daughter of Colonel Ramsay. His intelligence had included that bit of information. In the time he had taken to mull things over his coffee had gone cold and the conversation on the other table had seemingly come to an end. The Baroness had by now opened her purse and deposited some money on the table, stood up and was preparing to leave.

Henry thought it best to follow, it wasn’t exactly gentlemanly but it seemed like the perfect opportunity. He rose from his table and strode out into the foyer where he was helped into his greatcoat and handed his gloves. Stepping out into the chill, Henry spotted the Baroness and followed her down the street. Maybe the best thing would be to ask her for directions to her fathers office and see what doors that opened. Henry was concentrating so hard on how to approach the Baroness that he almost walked into her. He had failed to notice she had fallen into step with another woman and almost bowled into the back of them. He stepped around them and bowed his head in greeting.

“Oh do excuse me ladies, forgive me, my Finnish is awful and I am trying to find out where I might find the local defence force headquarters. Might I beg you for directions?”

Sanna Lantzelius

Sanna had risen early that morning. The morning light had fallen upon her body, warming her as it roused her from a peaceful sleep. She had entangled herself from the blankets that Elisabeth had so carefully piled on her the night before, insisting that she stay and not venture out into the cold night. Since she had moved to Åbo she hadn't yet experienced the kindness that Elisabeth had shown her the evening before. The cocoa had been wonderful treat and her new friend had patiently explained so many things to her about her new home. Sanna still didn't understand the complexities of the politics. Things were different in Chicago. They were Americans and she liked to think that they welcomed everyone. That was perhaps a naive thing to think, but Sanna could only observe what she had seen and in her tight-knit community they were a non-judgmental and kind group.

Perhaps she would ask her father. He didn't like to talk about such things, although she knew he was well aware of all that went on. Sanna knew he didn't want to worry her or her mother but at the same time being in the dark all the time wasn't the most comforting place to be. Her father had done his best to shield from such things in life and ensure that she be well versed in the history of the church, especially its music. She was an amateur organist and often would play during Mass. She was not especially good, the large pipe organ had been kind of daunting to play at first, but she had quickly adapted and got along pretty well. When she was not performing organist duties she liked to work with the children; in the nursery or teaching lessons from the Bible. Her favorite was the story of Job. It inspired her and renewed her faith each time she would recount it to another person.

Sanna hadn't had to work a long shift at the hospital that day. She had volunteered for some extra time as the hospital seemed to prepare for the seeming inevitability of war. She supposed she had better get used to working as Elisabeth had mentioned the possibility of her being conscripted. She wouldn't mind being on her feet or seeing illness as long as Sanna knew that she was making a difference in the lives of her patients. If she had her druthers she would only work with pediatric and obstetrical patients, but there was something infinitely fulfilling in nursing an adult back to health.

The snow fell on her and she pulled her hat down around her ears and her scarf high on her face, leaving only her blue eyes and her long blond hair distinguishable on her person. With her next paycheck she would need to get a new coat. While hers was sufficient for Chicago winters this was an entirely different thing altogether. She hummed her favorite melody as she walked, her feet keeping time to the light rhythm. She passed by people, acknowledging a few with a polite nod but finding no familiar faces. Sanna did, however, hear a familiar voice calling out her name.

"Hello, Elisabeth!" Sanna stepped to the side to allow a few people to pass before embracing her friend. "I hope today finds you better than yesterday. Tell me, what are you up to?" The two fell in step together until a she felt someone or something run into her back. She clutched Elisabeth's hand, feeling a bit frightened, before she turned to find a young man who seemed innocent enough.

“Oh do excuse me ladies, forgive me, my Finnish is awful and I am trying to find out where I might find the local defence force headquarters. Might I beg you for directions?” His voice seemed English, closer to hers; perhaps another foreigner in Åbo. Sanna smiled, her mouth not visible but her eyes crinkled with kindness. She stepped aside politely to let Elisabeth answer, not even knowing what a local defence force headquarters was, let alone where one might be here in her new home.

Elisabeth Ramsay

From the moment she had spotted her sister with von Demmerling she had been fuming. If Kristina wanted to be known a harlot then so be it, but such a reputation would inevitably taint Father and their name. Elisabeth had never given much thought to their social status. The Finnish House of Nobility was more or less a non-entity and the Russians had grown ever more suspicious of anyone who would be a potential leader of a Finnish nationalist movement. True enough, such had existed, only not an armed one. The struggle for independence, cultural and otherwise had been carried out by academics and clergymen, all of them who were Svecomans rather than Kristina's highly prized Fennomans.

Anyhow, the time for words was long since past, the finality of the same hitting Elisabeth as caught up with her friend. It was unfair, it was cruel and it was unnecessary. Then again, Civil wars were always the worst, at least she understood from the historic examples that such was the case. It had also been painfully clear with her sister's position. Did Kristina even know what she was advocating? And more to the point, did she not see that the Germans, which included her friend von Demmerling wouldn't want anything less than a country governed by Germany, at least by the way of proxies.

She could feel the rage threatening to overwhelm her, the strength of the emotion making her hurt physically. It was times like this when she missed her mother the most. Anna Ramsay had always been capable of bridging the gap between Elisabeth and Kristina, and more importantly, had managed to heal the rifts that it had caused.

All these things went through her mind, the sheer force of it causing her to tremble, or would have done so had it not been for Sanna.

It was strange a situation really. Elisabeth had hardly known her friend for more than a month but she had already managed to fill the void in Elisabeth's heart. One of the older women of the Women's Society had once remarked that Sanna was akin to an angel, and even though Elisabeth was neither that much of a believer, nor fallen to Sapphic leanings, she would be the first to second that statement. Ever since she had first met the American girl, for part of Sanna remained very American, Elisabeth had found herself comparing her with Kristina, or rather compared her younger sister's failings with the seeming perfection of Sanna's. She doubted that her friend had ever raised her voice in anger, nor that she was capable of harbouring petty thoughts such as Elisabeth was. In a way it made Elisabeth look bad, and she had told her friend this on a number of occasions, only to be met with the serene smile and the statement that everything she was she owed to Him.

They had never really discussed the issue of religion. As mentioned, Elisabeth was a lukewarm Christian at best. Or as she prefered to put it, culturally Christian. It took some persuading for her to belive, but for Sanna it seemed to come naturally. It was pure and undiluted faith, and she shone like a beacon for it.

All these thoughts were going through Elisabeth's head as she felt Sanna squeeze her hands through the mittens that she was wearing, offering her a smile, only discernable by way her eyes lit up, as her mouth was covered by the wollen scarf. There was no way that she could hang on to her ill-temper, and she offered her friend a smile in return and was about to speak when the young man almost bumped in to them Stammering an excuse and asking for the way to the Defence Forces Barracks.

Elisabeth gave him a long stare, the comment regarding language making her less inclined to be of service than she would usually be. Still the man was obviously a foreigner, British by the sound of his accent. While Elisabeth understood English and spoke it passably, her first foreign language was German. She looked at Sanna before turning back to the young man again.

"I don't speak Finnish either." She tried to make the reply sound as haughty as possible. "As for directions, I think you ought to be careful to ask for such being a foreigner and all. What would you possibly want with them." She nodded regally a sign that whatever audience that he had been granted had come to an end and turned back to Sanna. "I'm absolutely famished and I take it you haven't eaten for a while either?" She offered her friend a smile as she put her arm in hers. "I think I can just about manage to rustle something up. What do you say?"

They were about to turn when the young man approached them again and with some urgency introduced himself as Mr Henry Seton-Watson of London, and with some urgent information for Colonel the Baron Gustav Ramsay. Hearing her father's name and the fact that Mr Seton-Watson had inquired as to the location of the Defence Forces HQ made it seem all the more sinister. Offering Henry a long stare and seeking Sanna's hand for comfort. "Tell me Mr Seton-Watson, what would be so urgent that you would need to see my fath..Colonel Ramsay right now? He usually books his appointments which I'm sure British officers do too."

Henry Seton-Watson

Captain Seton-Watson bowed his head in apology and took a small step back as he absorbed the Baronesses words. She finished with a polite, yet firm, nod and effectively dismissed him, turning back to her friend and conversing in what to his ear appeared to be Swedish. Henry had one chance and he took it at the last moment. Dodging around the pair he arrived in front of them as they turned to move off.

“Fröken, let me start all over again. I am Captain Henry Seton-Watson of the British Army. I have some very important information which I believe Colonel the Baron Gustav Ramsay, the commander of the defence forces here in Turku, would find most interesting. That is why I was asking for directions, I do apologise for any misunderstanding, but I must urgently speak to him. Time is of the essence. ”

The Baroness held onto her friends hand, a look of intrigue and suspicion appearing on her face. She held Henry’s gaze and he bowed his head, averting his eyes.

“Tell me Mr Seton-Watson, what would be so urgent that you would need to see my fath..Colonel Ramsay right now? He usually books his appointments which I'm sure British officers do too.”

Henry raised his head and began to speak softly.

“I must be completely honest with you Baroness. My Swedish is very limited and I do not wish there to be any misunderstandings.” He turned and bowed politely to the Baronesses friend, looking into her kind eyes. “Fröken, might I ask you to translate whatever is necessary, if you are able too?” He smiled politely and without waiting to see if she could speak English turned back to face the Baroness.

“I overheard part of your conversation in the Grand Hotel, where you were addressed as Baroness Ramsay, therefore I am assuming that you are Baroness Elisabeth Ramsay, daughter of Colonel the Baron Gustav Ramsay? I do not normally eavesdrop, but the sight of a German uniform in the Hotel this morning did pique my interest. I would normally try and book an appointment as is polite and courteous, however the information I convey, as a representative of His Britannic Majesty’s Government has become all the more significant. After overhearing some of your opinions at the hotel I believed that you would be able to help me considering that what I have to say would interest the Finland Swedes. I beg your forgiveness for approaching you in this way and I ask for your help.”

Captain Seton-Watson waited patiently for a response, which came in a non committal way after a small discussion between the friends. It seemed they would help him but that help would end were he to be found untrustworthy or dishonest. They arranged to meet in the main square, allowing Henry time to get into uniform and gather the papers from His Britannic Majesties Government.

At the outbreak of war, ceremonial and dress uniforms had been abandoned by the British Army, but many officers still had their uniforms kept safe, just in case. Henry had brought his ceremonial dress uniform, the red tunic and navy blue trousers of the Life Guards, the trousers complete with the broad red stripe up the outside leg indicating he was an officer. Fitting the white cross belt under the epaulette on his left shoulder and disentangling the gold shoulder cords on his right, Henry pinned his medals to his chest and buckled the white belt complete with sword slings around his waist. Sadly his sword and the plumed ceremonial helmet had been left behind in London. Stepping into his highly polished black leather boots, minus the spurs worn when mounted, Captain Seton-Watson admired his reflection in the mirror, it had been a long time since he had worn the uniform he was so proud of. Finally, to guard against the cold Henry wrapped himself in the red cloak, complete with blue velvet collar and slipped on a pair of short white gloves. Collecting a leather bound folder and his peaked cap from the writing desk, Henry stepped out of his room on his way to meet the Baroness.