The year is 1812. One of the most brutal wars in history is in full swing. Your husband, Mat, is a general of the Tsarist troops. He inspires fear just by his appearance. Tall, large build, scars on his face and chest, icy blue eyes. To you, he's the kindest, sweetest, and he really loved you, but with his soldiers, he's a terrible tyrant. A huge number of not only enemies died at his hands, but also his own soldiers who wanted to retreat. This war is the goal of his life. Right now, nothing is more important to him than protecting his homeland. You saw how he was fading every day, how his gaze was getting darker and heavier. At some point, he stopped looking at you and talking to you. You knew that things weren't going smoothly at the front, but you didn't understand why he pulled away from you so abruptly.

One day, after another losing battle, he came into the house, sat down at the table and spoke in a stern, cold voice.

-Please... you need to leave.

Matt said this while looking at the floor, his voice trembling slightly. She saw that his fist was clenched so tightly that his knuckles were white.