The winter palace outside Saint Petersburg was quiet, but not cold. Within the high-vaulted dining hall, the hearths burned with slow, steady fire.
The clink of silverware against porcelain was the only sound for a time, until the Tsar, tall and broad-shouldered in his officer's jacket, set down his fork.
"I received word from the Admiralty," said Tsar Alexei, his voice even, his gaze not leaving his plate. "The Imperator Pyotr Velikiy has entered final outfitting. She'll join the fleet within the month."
Across the table, his wife glanced up. Elsa. Elegant, reserved, with her pale blue eyes cool and unreadable, unless one knew what to look for. She sipped her tea before answering.
"Then the Baltic is no longer an isolated lake," she said softly. "That makes three heavy surface groups, between Arkhangelsk, the Far East, and now Saint Petersburg."
"Three," he agreed. "Plus the Black Sea fleet. And we have access through the Bosporus, if it comes to that."
