The Bechstein piano emitted a tapping sound as crisp and pleasant as silver, like a stream flowing, or starlight falling from the sky.
The spring sunlight scattered across the courtyard, and the carefully maintained garden exuded the unique fragrance of sunlight, green grass, and laurel. The warm and slightly intoxicating breeze lifted the window veil, swept through the hall, almost allowing the tense mind to relax, to forget all troubles and work, to just lie on the lawn, basked in the warm sun and honor, and drift off into deep sleep.
That said, no one on the scene dared to relax, not even for a second, as any moment of laxity could bring about fatal disaster.
The man who brought this deadly air contrasting the season was the one standing in the center of the hall, striking the piano keys.
The hero who had earned illustrious military merits in the previous wars;
The hero received by the Emperor numerous times and awarded for his exploits;
