The month of September has come to the Ruthenian Empire. The capital, St. Petersburg, is now experiencing a new season. The Autumn season.
The people living in the capital dubbed it the "Golden Autumn" due to how vibrant everything is, residents of the capital have given it the nickname "Golden Autumn." The illustrious Summer Garden is transformed by vibrant autumnal hues whose flowers perfumed the park, the Ruthenian Imperial Palaces are exquisitely framed by falling leaves and golden lights of the sun, and the crisp air purifies the city after a warm summer.
It fits the era of the Ruthenia Empire well, peaceful. That's right, the Ruthenian Empire has been peaceful for the last four years. No people are striking to demand better working conditions, no revolutionaries to be seen protesting in the streets, and lastly, no civil unrest. Its vast territory was in a tranquil state, a harmonious balance between nature and society.
And in these peaceful times, two construction workers are working on the rehabilitation and beautification of the St. Petersburg train station that was initiated four years ago.
Grime and sweat coated their hands and faces. One was shoveling cement into the cement mixer machine while another was operating. Both looked like they could be from any territory of the Ruthenian Empire other than the one currently being constructed at this particular site.
They didn't talk or even acknowledge each other, but they did continue to work diligently to finish the work before anyone else. It has been like that until one of them started to break the ice.
"Hey, man, what's your name?" The man asked as he continued shoveling the concrete into the mixer. His voice was rough and coarse.
The man spinning the wheel of the cement mixer turned to look at him. "The name is Boris," he said.
"I'm Damian, nice to meet you," Damian offered a handshake to Boris. He returned it after receiving his handshake. "Say, Boris, do you like to grab some food after we finish here? I heard that there is a restaurant opening nearby."
"Sounds fine to me," Boris shrugged.
"Great!"
Two hours later, the construction manager announced that they could now take a break. Wiping the sweat off his face with a handkerchief, Damian got up and stretched out his stiff muscles.
Boris also stood up and wiped the dirt off of his dirty jeans. After putting away his hard hat he glanced up at Damian. "So are we going?"
"Of course, let's go," Damian nodded in reply.
They began their journey toward the new restaurant. They walked through the bustling street with people all around them. There was the sound of cars honking, people laughing and shouting. Some of the people walking past them glanced at them, probably noticing how dirty they were. But they were used to seeing people looking like that after working on that construction all day long, so it didn't bother them too much.
Minutes later, they arrived at the restaurant. To their surprise, the queue was long.
"Well, looks like it's going to take a while," Boris commented, looking at his watch.
Damian chuckled. "Let's just hope that it won't take us an hour..."
"Yeah, we only have a one-hour break," Boris chuckled back as he glanced above to read the name of the restaurant. "Ruthenian Fried Chicken?"
"Yup, Ruthenian Fried Chicken," Damian repeated. "Founded by His Majesty himself."
"Damn, our new Tsar is so great. He really changed this country from the ground up. I'm so glad that my two sons won't experience the hellish days of the Ruthenian Empire," Boris said, a smile flashed across his face.
"Me too..." Damian agreed. "Thanks to the Tsar, my two daughters are attending school for free. They have a promising future."
"Long live the Tsar?"
"Hell yeah! Long live the Tsar."
As the two were having heartwarming conversations, three people walked outside the restaurant with a satisfied expressions written on their faces.
"The chicken is so good! It tasted, unlike anything I've ever had!" A woman exclaimed happily, attracting attention from the people who were lined up.
"True, I'm going back tomorrow! I'm going to try out their twister."
"You should taste the Zinger! I assure you it tastes so good."
"And the ice cream in soda! What an unlikely combination!"
"You are weird for dipping the fried potato sticks in the ice cream. You are gonna have a tummy ache later."
"The "Shake" is very creamy and thick! The straw was standing up in the cup!"
Damian and Boris heard the conversation and couldn't help but feel excited about what the restaurant can offer.
"They enjoyed it. That means the food here is great," Damian said.
"I agree," Boris nodded.
Twenty minutes have passed and now they are standing next to the door. It seems that there's a limit to how many people can enter. The restaurant features a glass wall, meaning they can see through to the dining area inside.
They watched as the people ordered from the menu at the counter and the cashier gets the food coming out from the back through holes in the wall in small cardboard boxes or paper bags and places it on plastic trays lined with a paper copy of the menu.
The customer carry their food to available seats and tables and chomped down on the chicken with gusto, the restaurant crew wearing uniforms working tirelessly to clean up the messes left behind by patrons.
Most of the customers are polite enough to carry the trays of their eaten meal to the designated disposal area where the trash is fed into a hidden bin and the trays stacked on it for the dishwashers to collect and clean.
Most importantly, it was fast and sanitary.
It is busy with people, like the city of St. Petersburg.
The crew standing by the door motioned Boris and Damian to enter.
As soon as Damian and Boris stepped foot inside, the scent of roasted chicken reached their nostrils, causing their mouth to water. And when they took in more of the smell of the chicken, it smelled divine. Boris noticed Damian gulp as he inhaled the delicious aroma.
Despite the restaurant being crowded, the air inside was chilly. Damian glanced around to find the culprit and found out that it was these metal boxes with flaps that were blowing cold air.
Waiting outside caused them to sweat a little but the moment they stepped inside, they could feel their body cooling down.
"Wait there is another line?" Boris said, causing Damian to turn to him.
"What do you mean?" Damian asked.
"We have to wait in line to order the food," Boris replied, looking at the clerk working behind the counter.
"If this keeps up then we're going to be late," Damian said as he glanced at his watch.
"Don't worry. I'm sure the boss will understand," Boris assured, smiling.
Ten minutes later, it was finally their turn to order.
"Welcome to Ruthenia Fried Chicken! May I take your order?" The young lady said enthusiastically.
Damian and Boris looked up to the menu board with the names of the dishes, there was a lot to choose from.
"What are the famous dishes here?" Damian asked.
"That would be the two-piece original fried chicken paired with a drink and fries. Would you like to try it?"
"Okay..." Damian nodded then looked at Boris. "What are you getting?"
"I'll get the same as his," Boris said to the clerk.
"What would you like to have for the drink, sir? We have orange soda, coffee, and shake." the clerk inquired.
"...The orange soda," answered Damian
"Same," said Boris as well, saving time by having similar orders.
"So two sets of original fried chicken with orange sodas and fries. That would be 24 rubles please!" the lady said, smiling pleasingly.
"24 rubles? For both? That's cheap!?" Damian and Boris almost choked on their breaths hearing such a ridiculous price.
The clerk grinned at them. "Yes, with just 12 rubles per set, you can eat the most delicious dish, the Ruthenia Fried Chicken set with fries and a drink!"
"Then, we're going for it!" Damian and Boris pull their wallet out and pay the clerk.
"Thank you! Please wait for a minute as we prepare your order."
A minute later. A tray with two plates containing the fried chicken, fries, and orange sodas with ice was placed down in front of both men.
The tendril of smoke billowing from it struck their noses, causing their stomach to growl.
"Please enjoy! The clerk smiled radiantly at them, causing the two to give her a friendly nod in return.
Then, they looked for vacant booth seats in the corner of the room and sat down. Once settled they began to feast upon their first servings of the legendary fried chicken. Their expressions showed their ecstasy, their eyes lit up as their jaws hung open, the grease dripping down their mustache onto their lips.
With a first bite, a crunching sound filled their ears. The chicken was tender and juicy; its juices were still oozing as they soaked into their tongues, coating their mouths with its wonderful flavor. Their saliva dripped down to the table.
"This is delicious!"
"Let's try the fries!"
They grabbed one piece of fry and popped it into their mouth. As soon as the hot potato stick touched their tongue, the duo's eyes rolled into the back of their heads as if someone had stuck a red light on them. They made no attempts to stop the moan that came from both of them. Even though they were sitting down on stools and eating together they couldn't contain themselves.
"Delicious!!" he exclaimed inadvertently, causing the customers inside to look at them with amused expressions on their faces. They did have their moments when they first took a bite of the juicy fried chicken.
Lastly the drinks. The two suck up the ice-cold carbonated beverages with the provided plastic straws, the fizzy fluid washed away the salt and oil inside their mouth into their stomach.
After a large gulp, both gave out a large burp as the carbon dioxide gasses rushed out of their stomach.
They then both laugh as they enjoy their break sipping the cold sodas.
Heavenly, was the only word that can describe their feelings right now.
And at this moment, the Ruthenian people savored the taste of capitalism.
