The last days of rumor. In a world of tiredness, the wise Russian secretary of defense Schoigu and his twelve blessed deputies sailed on the Black Sea into the sunrise of glory and atrocities. For the sake of Russia, the innocent Russia, raped by the evil West. And in the middle of the sea, they all stood up, took each other’s hands and swore, by the Order of Saint George, never to give up their holy fight, against all odds. But then, a golden drone approached them, an eagle of death, and hit the boat, and all thirteen of them flickered like sparklers, burning to ash like empty sheets of paper. And days later, as the Russian book of fairytales tells us, at this location a giant tree with white, blue and red leaves arose from the ground of the Black Sea up to the sky, and they called it the tree of the thirteen holy knights of Russia.