Battlefield Priest's Diary

Chapter 1 Diary and Chess Pieces

Autumn in the suburbs of Baikalsk, a small Russian town.

It had just rained, and the dilapidated dirt roads in the countryside were soaked with water, turning into muddy puddles.

call! ! !
A beat-up Volga pickup truck with its paint showing sped past, splashing mud everywhere. The mud splattered onto the painted lettering of "[Red Star Used Car Recycling]" on both sides of the truck door, making the lettering blurry.

The pickup truck lurched violently as it passed a puddle, causing the tarpaulin on the back to be torn open, vaguely revealing what it was carrying: a brass Orthodox-style carved candlestick, a bookshelf bearing some kind of family crest, a Russian-made entrenching tool from World War II, and the Order of the Red Star of Labor made in the late Soviet Union...

"Hey, Donikov, watch the road! I bet there's not a single car repair shop within 50 kilometers of this place. If the car breaks down on the road, we'll have to walk to collect our debts." Qin Hao, sitting in the passenger seat, wiped the dirt off the rearview mirror with a rag while reminding his Russian companion.

"I don't care! I'm going to shove the vodka bottle behind that idiot who can't even fill in the account number correctly!" the Russian driver yelled irritably, his roar almost drowning out the engine's rumble.

"Calm down, buddy. Although I really want to teach that idiot a lesson, throwing a vodka bottle like that is a bit much," Qin Hao said as he stuffed the rag back in.

"Oh? He lost such a large sum of money, and you still want to speak up for him?"

"In fact, I think it would be more appropriate to use a gin bottle instead."

"What difference does it make?"

"I mean, the gin bottle should be longer..."

"Hehehe, that's a great idea..."

After a somewhat crude joke, Donikov's emotions began to stabilize, and the Volga-Pikachu gradually calmed down as well.

Qin Hao, who had been comforting his companion, sighed softly.

Business is tough.

He is 27 years old this year. His ancestors were traders who came to Russia to make a living. His family supported him to go to university here and left him a business in Irkutsk before they passed away.

Yes, the secondhand goods recycling industry.

He wanted anything of value, whether it was from the Cold War, World War II, or even the earlier Tsarist era.

Qin Hao buys items from here at low prices and then resells them to specific customers. Because there is a fixed market in China, his income is not bad. If he is lucky enough to find something used by a historical figure, he can even make a fortune.

Of course, all of this is based on the premise that everything goes smoothly.

Because a drunken employee filled in the wrong number and transferred the payment to the wrong account, he may face a loss of 60 rubles.

60 rubles is not a small sum of money, so even though they knew the chances of getting their money back were slim, the two decided to try their luck in the countryside.

"Buddy, I feel like we're getting further and further out of the way. Is your information accurate?" Qin Hao asked uncertainly, looking at the navigation on his phone and the increasingly worse road ahead.

"Probably, the address says the other person lives in the biggest house in town."

"The biggest house? For a millionaire?"

"God knows."

Donikov verbally agreed, then opened the drawer and stuffed a "little gadget" into Qin Hao's hand.

"Here you go. I don't know what kind of guy he is over there. Take this for self-defense."

When Qin Hao saw what was in his hand, he was shocked. The Russian had handed him a Tokarev pistol.

"Don't joke around, this is no laughing matter." Qin Hao didn't have a permit to use this type of weapon; possessing such a thing was illegal.

But just as he was about to throw the thing back, he discovered that the trigger of the thing in his hand was welded shut.

"Fake?!"

"To be precise, it's a collectible that has undergone firing nullification. Museums have plenty of those; I'll just grab one to give you courage," Donikov said nonchalantly, tossing a cigarette into his mouth.

"Dude, tell me honestly, was the only reason you got fired from the museum just because of your alcoholism?"

"Hey, what do you think I got that first batch of goods from somewhere?"

"You guy..."

"That's not important, oh, we've arrived..."

As the two men spoke, the Volga pickup truck had already entered the town, and when they began to search for the largest house based on the informant's tip, even the previously confident Donikov showed an expression of uncertainty.

The largest building in town was actually a church.

You want me to ask the church for money?!

Qin Hao felt his lips twitching.

The church is entirely made of wood and looks quite old. The oriental-style roof is covered with green moss and patches from various repairs. The wooden planks at the entrance creak and groan when stepped on, and a wooden plaque, presumably issued by the cultural relics department, is nailed to the wall.
St. Seraph Sarowski Chapel – Built in 1886

"What do we do?" Donikov gestured to his companion with his eyes, and casually shoved his pistol back under the seat.

"Since we're already here, we should at least go in and take a look." Qin Hao pursed his lips and stepped onto the wooden steps.

After a brief knock, the door opened.

The person who opened the door was an elderly priest who was at least over 70 years old and had silver-white hair. Perhaps because this remote little church hadn't had any outsiders for a long time, the old priest was very welcoming to the two of them.

"God bless you! I'm so glad that there are still devout believers who came in this kind of weather."

"Please come in quickly. I'm about to distribute a batch of holy bread, and I'd also like some hot water to warm myself up."

"The choir kids are a bit sleepy, so if you want to hear hymns, you'll probably have to wait a little longer."

"Oh, look at me, I haven't even asked yet, are you here to pray or just to look around?"

The priest's enthusiastic attitude made the two men, who had initially been quite aggressive, feel somewhat embarrassed.

Finally, Qin Hao reluctantly spoke up, "Father, I'm not a believer, nor am I here for a visit. In fact, do you know that there was once a sum of about 60 rubles..."

"Oh! It's you?!" The old priest suddenly became excited, and all the wrinkles on his face smoothed out.

"Thank you! Thank you!" The old priest first made the sign of the cross, then grasped Qin Hao's hand and shook it repeatedly.

"It's been a long time since we've had such a large donation. This is a rural area, and the funding from higher levels has never been enough. Since the year before last, we've also had children to take care of..."

"Please wait a moment, I'll let the children come out to meet you, at least to express our gratitude in person."

After saying this, the old priest excitedly went into a small room next door, leaving Qin Hao and the other man standing there looking at each other in bewilderment.

"Dude, my hearing isn't very good. Did he just say the word 'donation'?" Donikov looked at his Asian companion, while Qin Hao nodded helplessly beside him.
-
The story is actually not complicated. A dilapidated old church, an elderly priest who is barely keeping the church afloat and is becoming somewhat senile, several children with disabilities who are cared for by the church, and a remittance of 60 rubles that falls from the sky, all make up an awkward misunderstanding.

When the two men saw several sickly-looking children trying their best to perform "Ode to the Morning Light" for their "generosity," not only did they not get their 60 rubles back, but Donikov's already meager wallet was once again forced to shrink.

"Hey buddy, what are you thinking? This isn't like you." Qin Hao nudged the Russian next to him with his elbow.

"Hehehe, brother, I guess I've found a way to make a fortune," Donikov replied with a chuckle, showing no intention of mourning his empty wallet.

“Brother, although 60 rubles isn’t a small amount, it’s not worth going crazy over such a small sum…” Qin Hao placed his hand on the other man’s forehead.

“Hey, don’t do that. I’m neither crazy nor sick.” Donikov slapped his partner’s hand away, then pointed to the church entrance. “What’s written there?”

"Um, the prayer room opens after 10 o'clock?"

"Not this one! The other one!"

"So, please don't take away Holy Communion?"

"Damn it! It's [founded in 1886]!" Donikov announced the answer irritably, then lowered his voice excitedly.

"Think about it, 1886! That was a church from the Tsarist era! Most of these churches were destroyed during the Soviet era, and very few have survived. With nearly 150 years of history, there must be quite a few interesting things left behind."

At this point, Donikov rubbed his hands excitedly. "There might be something in the warehouse that was used by a famous bishop or even a saint. If you just take one or two items, let alone 60 rubles, even several times that amount would be a piece of cake."

Qin Hao glanced at the other person. "Are you sure? People don't usually bring out something like this easily, do they?"

"Hehe, we donated 60 rubles, so asking for a few small things isn't too much to ask, is it?"

In fact, Donikov's plan went very smoothly.

When they mentioned wanting a few vintage "souvenirs," the old priest granted their request without hesitation.

Two medium-sized wooden boxes were placed in the hands of two generous donors. Just by looking at the simple and elegant patterns on the outside of the boxes, you could tell that there were good things inside.

“These things existed before I arrived, and I don’t know exactly what’s inside. I hope I won’t disappoint you,” the old priest said before they left.

At night, Donikov's excited, off-key voice could be heard coming from the small inn where he was temporarily staying.

"Hey buddy, come look!! What's this?! I've won the jackpot!!!"

He took out a picture of the Virgin Mary holding her child from his wooden box.

"A well-preserved, vibrantly colored mid-period work by the icon master Viktor Vasnetsov; it would be worth at least 50,000 yuan at auction!"

"ruble?"

"It's dollars! Dollars!" Donikov was immediately overjoyed at the windfall.

He then focused all his attention on Qin Hao's box.

"Dude, look at what's that here! God, I'm so curious!"

Qin Hao took out his wooden box, reached in and took out the key, then put it into the lock.

With a click, the two men peered over.

It was empty inside.

There was only a small diary at the bottom of the box, just big enough to fit in a shirt pocket.

How could this be?!
Donikov's gaze toward Qin Hao immediately turned sympathetic.

Diaries are practically worthless unless they belong to a specific historical figure. The notebook in Qin Hao's hand was crudely sealed, clearly not a high-quality item.

"Open it and see, maybe it's the Patriarch's notes." Although he knew the chances were slim, Donikov still tried to persuade him.

"You might as well say it's Stalin's; that would excite me more." Although Qin Hao said this, he still put on gloves and opened the diary.

The diary was made of cotton and linen paper, which was quite durable. However, after so much time, the ink on it had faded considerably. On the title page, the fragmented notes were now just irregular yellow spots. Apart from the year 1914, the two of them could not even make out any of the contents.

“Uh, this sound should be… Ras… um… Ras… Pu… Damn it! It’s so worn out, I can’t recognize it, I can’t even make out the name. I can only barely make out that it was handwritten by a guy named Ras XX in 1914.” Donikov tried repeatedly to decipher the words, but finally gave up.

“I’ve made a new discovery.” Qin Hao waved the object he had just pulled from the corner of the box. Due to the lighting, the two of them hadn’t noticed it at first.

"what is that?"

"As you can see, it is a chess piece."

On Qin Hao's outstretched palm lay eight chess pieces, their quality excellent, likely made of agate or similar material, and all uniformly shaped like the pawns in chess.

"It's probably something like amulets. In the past, soldiers would always carry small items that had been offered in churches when they went to the battlefield. They were superstitious and believed that these things could protect them from disaster or even take their place in death at crucial moments," Donikov analyzed, rubbing his chin with an expert's air.

"So the owner of this diary was carrying eight pieces at once? Trying to die eight times in one place? What a greedy fellow." Qin Hao chuckled, then put the diary back in the box and casually tossed the chess pieces into his pocket.

"That's it for today."

"Shouldn't we look into it again?"

"No, thank you," Qin Hao said, patting the dust off his clothes. "In our hometown dialect, 'a bird in the hand is worth two in the bush.' We've already made a profit with that painting today, so we can't ask for too much."

That night, Donikov, in a good mood because he had acquired a famous painting, drank heavily from a bottle of vodka until midnight.

Knowing that someone's sleeping posture was terrible after drinking, Qin Hao insisted on booking a room for himself.

The deafening snoring filled his ears, and Qin Hao couldn't fall asleep quickly. So, before going to sleep, he took out another chess piece from his pocket and played with it casually.

The chess pieces had a smooth, warm feel, but were cool to the touch. When Qin Hao flipped them over, he was surprised to find that the base of each piece was engraved with a lightning bolt symbol and a small line of fine text.

Latin: [swift]

What does it mean?
Is it some kind of prayer, or something like a totem?
At this moment, words faintly appeared on the first page of the diary, and the light flickered like breathing.

[Swiftness: You run faster than most people]

??? !!! !!! !!! !!!
Is this some kind of ghost?! I've been so tired these past few days, am I hallucinating?
He gradually felt dizzy, so he rummaged through his shirt and pulled out half a pack of Furongwang cigarettes to perk himself up. But before he could even light the cigarette, his vision blurred.

A faint sound was heard in my ear.
The Battle of Tannenberg begins.

Click~
The chess piece fell to the ground, emitting an eerie glow under the moonlight.

(End of this chapter)