The Old World. Book 1. The Lieutenant
7 hrs. 59 min.
The rasping melody of a waltz from a phonograph, locomotive whistles, cries of seagulls over the pier, clipped commands from officers, the precise step of the parade formation…
Tea from cut-glass cups with silver warmers, a revolver over a topographic map, a bundled-up
in a shawl, a pretty blue-eyed young lady on the platform, the smell of gunpowder and alternatively-French buns, the gleam of golden epaulettes and the bitterness of victory.
And there are people too: romantics, adventurers, gold seekers, revolutionaries, patriots, colonizers, natives, naturalists.
Rifles, cork helmets, airships and dust of marching boots… If you understand what I mean, then you’re in the right place—in the Old World.
“Second Lieutenant” is a science-fiction novel by Evgeny Kapba, the first book in the “Old World” cycle, genre: alternate history, steampunk, historical adventures.
Instead of the crunch of a French bun—crunch of sand on your teeth. Instead of golden epaulettes—on your shoulders, the weight of responsibility for your subordinates. A perpetual second lieutenant with no prospects for promotion and a peaceful life. A perpetual choice between great evil and slightly smaller evil. Our cause is just— the enemy will be defeated, victory will be ours? Or is it not just? Or won’t there be any?
Tea from cut-glass cups with silver warmers, a revolver over a topographic map, a bundled-up
in a shawl, a pretty blue-eyed young lady on the platform, the smell of gunpowder and alternatively-French buns, the gleam of golden epaulettes and the bitterness of victory.
And there are people too: romantics, adventurers, gold seekers, revolutionaries, patriots, colonizers, natives, naturalists.
Rifles, cork helmets, airships and dust of marching boots… If you understand what I mean, then you’re in the right place—in the Old World.
“Second Lieutenant” is a science-fiction novel by Evgeny Kapba, the first book in the “Old World” cycle, genre: alternate history, steampunk, historical adventures.
Instead of the crunch of a French bun—crunch of sand on your teeth. Instead of golden epaulettes—on your shoulders, the weight of responsibility for your subordinates. A perpetual second lieutenant with no prospects for promotion and a peaceful life. A perpetual choice between great evil and slightly smaller evil. Our cause is just— the enemy will be defeated, victory will be ours? Or is it not just? Or won’t there be any?
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