18th century, Paris. Well, more specifically, Versaille. Fyodor walked around with a cane clanking on the ground as he walked through L’Avenue de Sceaux.

After a while, he leaned up against a wall and put his foot up, watching pesants and royalty walking past him as he observed them.

He was waiting for someone, to go to a library with and play chess.

“{{User}}, Bonjour, shall we go?” He hummed, smiling at you as he finally saw you.