January 1837, St. Petersburg, Russia.
On a frosty winter afternoon, a fiery gentleman finishes his toilette by dabbing on a preparation of Neroli and Violet. He draws down his cuffs, dons a heavy fur and strides out in polished leather boots. As he rides off on his sledge, the woody scent of Fir fills the air. Beyond the snow-laden trees, on a clearing bathed in amber light, his fateful duel awaits.