Chapter 2717: 2691: A Nation of One
No. 11 Lubianka Square, the location of the KGB Headquarters.
Since 1920, the KGB Headquarters has been here, and now even after being renamed the Russian Federal Security Service, the headquarters remains here.
A funeral ceremony is taking place in the auditorium of the KGB Headquarters.
This is a very strange funeral, an extremely rare farewell ceremony, so rare that it’s the first since the Soviet Union to Russia.
It’s strange because the people attending the farewell ceremony are extremely high-ranking, yet the number of attendees is surprisingly few.
The President came, the Director of the Russian Federal Security Service attended, and directors from various branches below. Excluding the President and his guards, there were less than ten people attending the farewell ceremony, yet all those present were the top officials within the KGB.
Even stranger, the flag placed on one side of the casket is not the Russian flag, but the Soviet flag.
The other side of the casket, where the family should be, was empty.
Four Honor Guards stood proudly beside the casket, in which lay Yarebin with a smile on his face.
The military band played a somber and mournful tune on one side, Tchaikovsky’s Sixth Symphony, the fourth movement.
The ceremony was conducted by Vasilyevich, the Director of the Russian Federal Security Service.
As the farewell ceremony began, the first to lay flowers was the President of the Russian Federation, Vladimir Putin.
Putin placed a bouquet at the foot of the casket, then stepped forward, gazing at Yarebin inside the casket.
He gazed at Yarebin’s face, then at the medals representing Yarebin’s merits, and after a moment, he turned and walked to the group of high KGB officials waiting to lay flowers.
“Coming here, I feel like I’m returning home. I understand what kind of people spies are; they are a group with unique qualities, beliefs, and character. They can give up their original lives, families, and loved ones, live far from their homeland, and devote their entire lives to their country. Not everyone can do this. Today, we are bidding farewell to a great spy, a warrior who gave everything for his country.”
With a slight bow, Putin said nothing more and stepped aside.
Baskov, the second to lay flowers, stood before the casket, placed his bouquet, and gazed at Yarebin for a long time.
Baskov showed no expression; he wanted to say something but could not find the words looking at that peaceful face. Realizing he had lingered too long, Baskov turned, bowed his head, and returned to his place.
Though deeply moved and grieving, Baskov also felt joy for Yarebin. Putin’s attendance was unexpected; Baskov thought it would be a secret KGB funeral but never expected the President would come.
Attendees laid their flowers in order, and with a deep voice, Vasilyevich commanded, “Seal the casket!”
The casket lid was lifted by four Ceremonial Soldiers, slowly covering an old man who appeared quite ordinary.
“Drape the national flag!”
Four Honor Guards escorted a folded red flag to the casket.
When the flag was unfurled, Baskov wanted to personally drape his captain in the national flag, but as it was spread, his heart was like a bucket of cold water, quelling that thought quickly.
Baskov felt unworthy of the national flag, though he had no qualms about the Black Demon; he truly felt unworthy of the flag, so he could not personally cover the old man who had given everything for that flag.
As the Honor Guards were about to drape the flag down, Putin suddenly stepped forward, silently took a corner from one of the guards.
Vasilyevich took the second corner.
Baskov’s feet remained motionless; Putin glanced at Baskov, who shook his head slightly, not moving.
The third and fourth individuals stepped forward, holding the flag with their President, finally covering the casket with the flag.
“Raise the coffin!”
The four Honor Guards lifted the casket, amidst the somber music played by the military band, and under the people’s gaze, carried it to the hearse parked at the auditorium entrance.
The place where family should sit in the hearse, on both sides of the casket, should have been Gao Yang, but he could not come.
This time, Baskov did not hesitate; he entered the hearse and sat beside the casket, with the high-ranking Vasilyevich sitting on the other side.
Baskov looked in astonishment at his director, to which Vasilyevich solemnly said, “He has no family, so let his successors see him off.”
Following Russian tradition, the hearse carrying the deceased makes stops at places they worked and lived during their lifetime.
This is the headquarters of the KGB, where Yarebin dedicated his life, so the hearse began to slowly drive through the KGB headquarters.
The hearse made a stop at a place Yarebin once lived; after a brief pause, the hearse moved again.
The hearse circumnavigated the Kremlin once, then headed onto Red Square.
The lead car stopped and gave way, allowing the hearse carrying Yarebin’s casket to proceed straight to the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier.
“Your name is unknown, but your deeds are eternal.”
Before that famous inscription, the hearse paused briefly.
There were no strict security measures, just temporarily directing tourists to the side.
Baskov glanced sideways and noticed the greatly surprised tourists, then he saw Gao Yang.
Gao Yang was pushing a wheelchair in which Hammer sat.
Hammer, dressed in a black suit, saluted the hearse from his wheelchair, eyes fixed on it, motionless.
Gao Yang stood behind the wheelchair, also in a black suit, wearing a medal on the left of his chest, a medal that belonged solely to the King of the Black Devils.
Tears welled up in Gao Yang’s eyes as he fulfilled his promise to Yarebin.
Gao Yang came to bid farewell to the old man who had silently protected him, taught him so much, and treated him as a son.
All of Satan’s people came, but they did not gather together; instead, they were scattered everywhere, coming to bid farewell to this elder they knew and respected.
None of the Black Demons came except for Hammer. They refused to waste time on such pointless matters as a funeral, even if it was Yarebin’s funeral.
The hearse left Red Square and continued driving until it arrived at the New Saintess Cemetery.
Today, the New Saintess Cemetery is closed, not open, and no one is allowed to enter, except for the convoy that just went in.
When the hearse drove into the cemetery, it stopped, and came to a halt in front of a squad of honor guards.
This is not a state funeral.
But this is a strange funeral, for it used the highest ranking tri-service honor guard, something that can only be used for a state funeral.
In front of the honor guard is a military band, the highest ranking military band.
The scale is not right, and there are no reporters, no obituary, but indeed, for a few days, Russia’s KGB conducted a highest-ranking strange funeral.
Four honor guards raised the coffin and proceeded slowly, escorted by the tri-service honor guard.
The military band started to play music, a tune very unfamiliar to them. Of course, it would be unfamiliar, because the score they were playing was called “The Unbreakable Union,” a piece that hadn’t been heard for twenty-four years.
Yet the military band was also extremely familiar with this piece, because although the Russian national anthem is named “Russia – Our Sacred State,” its melody completely inherits from “The Unbreakable Union,” which they have played countless times.
So for this military band, it was truly a piece both familiar and unfamiliar.
Draping the national flag, playing the national anthem, represent a vanished nation, a nation that belonged solely to Yarebin.
A state funeral that wasn’t a state funeral.
Yet it was a state funeral, at this moment, Yarebin stood for a nation.
The coffin was brought to the grave, where Putin was already waiting. Yes, he had come to the cemetery, for the funeral had not yet concluded.
Next was the memorial service, but after the honor guards placed Yarebin’s coffin down, it was time for the final eulogy.
Here, undeniably, the only qualified person to deliver the eulogy was Putin.
Putin stood before the coffin, facing the crowd, facing an audience of less than ten people, facing a grand military band, a grand tri-service honor guard, though the space here was small, the military band and the honor guard could not approach him.
Taking a deep breath, a low but resonant voice spoke up.
“He dedicated everything to the Soviet Union.
He faced the darkness, turned his back to the light.
He embraced the darkness, protected the light.
The enemies hated him to the bone, calling him a devil.
The people he protected, did not know of his existence.
He and his loyal warriors rest here.
He and his comrades, also resting here, are the sacred Black Demons.
He is the Black Demon of the Soviet Union.
His name is Yarebin Vasilyev.”
Putin slowly finished the eulogy.
This was Yarebin’s eulogy, and it will also be Yarebin’s epitaph.
Putin turned to look at the coffin draped with the national flag, then solemnly said, “The Soviet Union has disappeared, but we who have inherited the Soviet Union cannot forget these heroes. He is not an unknown hero; here will be his tombstone, with a full-body statue of him.”
After speaking, Putin gave a slight nod, then moved to the side.
“Fire the salute!”
The salutes began to sound.
The salute did not end at fifteen shots, nor at seventeen, nor at nineteen.
It continued to twenty-one shots, the highest honor.
This is a strange funeral.
But if it is a state funeral for one man’s nation, a nation’s man, then it is not strange.
Draping the national flag, playing the national anthem, firing the salute.
Buried beside his comrades.
Yarebin got everything he wanted.
The coffin was lowered into the grave, flowers and soil falling down, gradually covering an elder who lived a legendary life.
An era has come to an end.
A legendary figure has taken his final bow.
An immortal hero has gone to his realm.
It ends here.