Darko Kerzhakov was an eighteen year old Serbian living in Sarajevo. He was an orphan, his parents killed when Darko was thirteen. Along with his older brother, Nikolai Kerzhakov, four years older than him, Darko had managed to migrate from Serbia into Bosnia and Herzegovina, which was under the rule of Austria-Hungary. Darko and Nikolai lived in a shophouse owned by a middle-class half-Serbian, Aleksandar Mikovic.
The day was 28th of June, 1914. Archduke Franz Ferdinand was on a visit to Sarajevo, which had naturally drawn large crowds. Darko and Nikolai wanted to see the Archduke, so they went out and became just two of the many among the many.
Darko saw the motorcade enter the street, with the Archduke in one of the vehicles of the motorcade. "Brother, look! The Archduke himself!"
But Nikolai's attention was not on the Archduke. Instead, he was focused on one of the men, a young man who Nikolai guessed was not more than twenty. The young man was standing a distance away from the central police station. As the motorcade neared Nikolai saw the young man reach for his pocket.
"Go home, now," Nikolai ordered, pointing in the rough direction of the shophouse they lived in. "Now!"
He had never seen his brother with such a serious look on his face. As Darko nodded and ran off, Nikolai headed in the direction of the young man, Nedeljko Cabrinovic.
As Darko reached the end of the street, where the motorcade had entered the area, he heard an explosion. Turning around, Darko saw the tyres of one of the vehicles in the motorcade, the fourth vehicle, simply pop. Without hesitation Darko continued running.
From a safe distance away Darko saw a small mob outside the shophouse, hurling items at the wall of the building. He saw a police officer nearby, but not doing anything. Darko ran up to the police officer.
"Herr! Why are you not doing anything?" Darko asked in weak German, as he pointed at the shophouse. Darko could see that the officer was German.
"Get away from me, you piece of shit," the officer replied crudely. He drew his baton, about to hit Darko with it.
However, before the officer's baton could come down on Darko, a hand shot out, grabbing the officer's wrist firmly. Before the officer could react the hand twisted the officer's wrist. The officer howled in agony and dropped the baton.
"Watch out, you Serbian filths," the officer warned as he moved away. "One day you'll be crushed under our mighty hands!"
Darko looked to see who had saved him. To his surprise he saw Aleksandar, dressed in a set of clothing Darko had never seen him wear before. In a fleeting glance one would think that it was just ordinary civilian clothing, but upon closer inspection Darko found that the robes seemed odd. It was civilian clothing but at the same time it was not.
"Where is your brother, Darko?" Aleksandar asked.
Darko shook his head. "I don't know. We were watching the Archduke's motorcade pass through the central police station when Nikolai told me to escape. Shortly after I heard an explosion!"
"This isn't good," Aleksandar sighed and shook his head. "Listen, Darko. Right now there's an anti-Serbian riot going on throughout the entire city. You need to get to somewhere safe."
As Aleksandar ran off Darko looked at the slip of paper in his hand, which Aleksandar had left him. Crushing the paper and stuffing it into his pocket, Darko's fingertips brushed on a new object, which he had no recollection of being in his pocket.
Taking the object out, Darko gasped at the dagger. He wondered how the dagger had gotten there, until Darko heard shouts coming from the crowd. Putting the dagger back in his pocket Darko spun around. The mob was beginning to take notice of him.
"Time to move," Darko muttered and broke into a sprint.
One street away from his destination, Darko had the luck to run into a military officer. The military officer, noticing that Darko was Serbian, smiled coldly.
"Look what we have here," the military officer said in a mocking tone. "A mighty Serbian. You look like a street urchin, a piece of filth. Perhaps I will take out the trash, as I like to call it."
The military officer's hand reached for a pistol which was holstered at his waist. Darko did not wait for the officer to finish drawing the pistol, as by then it would be too late. Instead Darko pulled out the dagger and plunged it into the officer's abdomen.
"Wha…what," the officer was stunned.
Picking up the pistol the officer had dropped, Darko aimed it at the man as he retrieved his dagger. The officer was terrified, as he thought Darko was going to shoot him.
"Please, don't kill me!" the officer pleaded. "I beg of you, please!"
Darko holstered the pistol and ran off, leaving the injured officer alone on the pavement.
Arriving at his destination, Darko saw that it was a small manor, which was atop a hilltop he had yet to climb. There was a lone man by a guardhouse which was at the foot of the hill. Darko walked up to the lone man.
"Greetings, sir," Darko said politely. "I am looking for a man named Gustav de Monaco."
"Ah, yes," the man, an elderly gentleman, probably one of the staff of the manor, said. "And what would be your name?"
Darko bit his lips, choosing whether or not to tell his real name. "My name is Darko Kerzhakov."
The man remained indifferent upon hearing the Serbian name. "Yes, your name has been mentioned in the household before. Go in, the master will meet you when he returns."
"The master?" Darko was puzzled.
"The master of the manor, Gustav de Monaco."
Soon, a car pulled up outside the manor, and Gustav entered the manor, accompanied by the man from earlier. "This is Darko Kerzhakov, monsieur."
Gustav walked up to Darko and shook his hand. "I am Gustav de Monaco, a pleasure to meet you. I heard from my butler over here that you were looking for me?"
"Aleksandar told me to come here," Darko said, assuming that Gustav knew the name. His assumption was correct.
"I see," Gustav nodded with sympathy. "Times are hard right now for you Serbians. Where is your brother?"
He was surprised Gustav knew of his brother. "Nikolai Kerzhakov, sir. I have no idea of his current whereabouts."
"Of course I know his name. When your brother and Aleksandar arrive we will begin."
Begin what? Gustav thought.