The Saint of All Russia (2)
The bullet clattered to the floor, flattened and deformed, as if to prove that even a gunshot to the head wouldn’t kill you if it was gentle enough. Whether this was actually a bullet or some garbage born from military procurement corruption, I couldn’t tell. But at the very least, everyone watching had just witnessed another miracle.
“O-ohhh… As expected of the Saint!”
“Is that truly a miracle?!”
The citizens who had followed me on impulse were equally stunned. To be honest, if I wanted to fully convert Yekaterinburg to our side, I would need to keep putting on shows like this for a while. Of course, other regions would probably dismiss it as the princess filming propaganda, but at minimum, I had to turn the people of Yekaterinburg into devoted fans of Saint Anastasia, who had received God’s desperate grace.
“A miracle like this exists so clearly before our eyes, and yet you still want to kill me?”
“W-what the hell have you done?! You’re a witch!”
“How pathetic. Doesn’t that just mean you’re all even lower than witches?”
“Comrade Lenin is the hope of Mother Russia! You’re the one who belongs in a coffin!”
Of course, there were always a few who kept spouting nonsense until the very end. But most of them had no choice but to acknowledge me. They had seen a bullet fired directly into my head, and yet I hadn’t died. Instead, the bullet had crumpled and fallen harmlessly to the ground. Whether they were young Bolsheviks swayed by propaganda or hardline Bolsheviks who had been ordered to assassinate me, once they witnessed it with their own eyes, there was nothing they could do. It just proved how weak these reds were to indoctrination.
These reed-like people would inevitably waver again during this civil war.
“I suppose I cannot blame these pitiful souls who cannot believe in me. How truly tragic. God has commanded that they be saved through death.”
One word from me was enough. Those who refused to accept reality until the bitter end were marked for execution.
And then… some of the Bolsheviks, upon seeing the bullets flatten, switched sides on the spot.
“Saved through death… what does that mean?”
“It’s quite simple.”
“Pardon?”
“Tell the enemy soldiers that if they surrender to us now, they too can receive the Lord’s protection.”
These men whose minds had been shattered would obey any order I gave. Especially if it came from the Saint who had performed a miracle. Which was why I was about to issue a truly vicious command.
“Then…”
“Hang the Bolshevik corpses on crosses.”
There would be two possible reactions. Either the Bolsheviks would come charging in, burning with rage, or they would be so horrified they’d give up entirely. I was betting on the latter. Trotsky hadn’t personally stepped in to handle the enemy yet, and they wouldn’t be able to launch a full-scale assault on this place. Even if they forcibly gathered troops and sent them here, those soldiers would probably do anything to avoid ending up as laundry hanging from crosses themselves.
Originally, one option would have been to evacuate with the citizens. But Yekaterinburg was the strategic heart separating European Russia from Asia. It could not be lost under any circumstances. For major White Army leaders like Pyotr Wrangel to truly exert their strength, we needed to link up from here. The White Army was already fragmented. If they lost European Russia, the remaining Siberian territories had too small a population to field enough troops. They would be overwhelmed.
In the end, the Bolsheviks who had never received the Lord’s blessing were forcibly blessed by being nailed to crosses.
After going this far, I wondered how the Bolsheviks would respond.
Just as Anastasia had predicted, Bolshevik forces outside Yekaterinburg were observing the situation within the city. And they clearly saw the crosses that had been erected on the outskirts.
More precisely, they saw the bodies of their comrades hanging from them.
“Aren’t those our comrades?”
“What does it say there? ‘Imperial traitors who defied God’s will’?”
“There’s also ‘Long live the Romanovs!’ written on them!”
“The empire already collapsed! How dare they—!”
“Comrades, it’s too dangerous to go in now. Don’t you see what this means? It means Yekaterinburg has already fallen into the princess’s hands.”
“So we’re just supposed to leave the princess alone?”
“If we go in there, we’ll end up just like them.”
“But why would they oppose the liberation of the workers? After everything the Tsar did to them, they’re still putting their faith in the Romanovs?”
Unless they had lost their minds, who would trust the Romanovs again? The Bolsheviks ground their teeth in fury. Why were there so many obstacles standing in the way of the revolution?
“Even if some inside the city wanted to respond to us, we’ve completely lost contact with our other comrades in Yekaterinburg.”
“Which means…”
“We cannot take that city with our current numbers.”
Of course, if they were willing to throw everything at it, capturing just the city might not be impossible. But most of their troops were conscripts. What kind of reaction would they have upon seeing their comrades crucified? Untrained conscripts could hardly be expected to fight properly. Not to mention the Czechoslovak Legion was already present, and reactionary forces were rising up everywhere. They couldn’t afford to pour all their strength into capturing Yekaterinburg just to kill one princess.
So for now, all they could do was grit their teeth and plan for the future.
Soviet People’s Commissar Vladimir Lenin bit down hard on his lower lip upon receiving the report from Yekaterinburg.
Yekaterinburg had fallen into the princess’s hands.
What that meant was simple. It proved that there were still fools in the city who longed for the Tsar. And now, the reactionaries who sought to oppose the Soviets could rally around the princess.
“Should we have left the Romanovs alone from the beginning?”
“They had to be eliminated eventually, Comrade Lenin,” Trotsky replied. He had always been a hardliner when it came to the imperial family. Only by sweeping away the entire Romanov house could the revolution be completed.
“But things are taking a strange turn. Haven’t you heard? Yekaterinburg has fallen to the princess!”
“They are fools who still believe the Romanovs have a future. Our Red Army will surely reclaim it later.”
Leon Trotsky clenched his fist, his voice thick with rage.
Stalin, who had noticed the strange atmosphere, curled the corner of his mouth upward. He had rushed here from Tsaritsyn due to the emergency, but things were becoming rather interesting.
“Perhaps it would have been better to convert her instead.”
“Stalin, what are you saying?”
“If we couldn’t kill them all anyway, we should have kept her alive and turned her. Or killed her properly beforehand. Of all times, we had to do it when the reactionaries are stirring.”
“Are you criticizing us after the fact?”
“We must think differently now. What do you think the princess will do? What will the reactionaries do? They will spread the news far and wide that the Soviets murdered her parents and siblings. No matter how much they call us enemies, all the imperialist monarchies are related to the Romanovs by blood. Isn’t it obvious how they will react?”
The British royal family and the German imperial family were both related to the Tsar. They might very well try to intervene somehow.
“The imperialist powers are still at war! They cannot intervene!”
“Who knows? That remains to be seen.”
Direct military intervention was uncertain, but as long as the princess survived, this civil war would drag on. And the longer the civil war lasted, the more the Soviet union would fracture.
“What are you even suggesting?!”
“It means a long and bloody civil war has begun—one that will drain the lifeblood of the workers.”
“Enough! We cannot afford to fight among ourselves! Quickly reorganize the troops. If Yekaterinburg has fallen into that state, who knows what’s happening in the other cities under our influence!”
This was the workers’ nation they had built through endless sacrifice. They could not allow it to slide back into the Tsarist era.
“Yes, Comrade. Also, we cannot predict how the old imperial generals will react. We should try to win them over where possible. If that fails, they must be eliminated.”
“It cannot be helped. Do so. What about Yekaterinburg?”
“We must gather the Red Army and strike.”
Gathering the Red Army to attack meant another round of conscription. Stalin had an exceptional ability to read the board. In the original history, that skill had elevated him to the position of General Secretary and allowed him to solidify his dictatorship through bloody purges.
Which was why the current Siege of Yekaterinburg looked like anything but a bright future to Stalin.
“And if we fail?”
“We must attack Yekaterinburg even if it is reckless. If we leave it as it is, the city will become the focal point of the anti-communist movement!”
They would seize Yekaterinburg no matter the cost. Unlike the original history, the princess had survived and was resisting from Yekaterinburg. This was something they had to do whether they liked it or not. If left alone, the White Army would inevitably rally around the city.
Somehow, even if it meant enduring public resentment for a time, they had to retake Yekaterinburg.
“Understood, Comrade. And Comrade Stalin, you must defend Tsaritsyn.”
At Trotsky’s next report, Stalin’s eyes widened. It was a perfect checkmate.
‘This bastard…?’
At this point, it had to be intentional. Stalin was convinced Trotsky was deliberately trying to sideline him. Of course defending Tsaritsyn was important, but at the very moment they needed to concentrate forces to attack Yekaterinburg, sending him to Tsaritsyn…
As Stalin headed toward Tsaritsyn, he thought carefully. Both Comrade Lenin and Trotsky had been provoked by the princess’s actions. No matter how he looked at it, attacking Yekaterinburg did not bode well for the future. Even if they desperately rushed the assault out of urgency, actually occupying the city was another matter entirely. The Czechoslovak Legion was apparently aiding the princess. Victory was far from certain.
‘Wait a minute… then…’
If he played this right, he might be able to gain the upper hand over Trotsky.
Yes. Defending Tsaritsyn would be far better than attacking Yekaterinburg. He could simply focus on a defensive battle there. He only needed to wait until that venomous Trotsky brought about his own downfall.
Stalin headed to Tsaritsyn with those dark ambitions hidden deep in his heart.
The former Bolsheviks Anastasia had released spread the news of the Romanov family’s execution and the surviving princess in every direction. One of those who heard the report was Anton Denikin, who flew into a rage and summoned the man who had delivered the rumor.
“The Bolshevik scum actually murdered His Majesty the Tsar and his entire family?”
“However, the princess is the sole survivor.”
“What? The princess is alive?”
“Yes. Her Highness is the Saint of Russia. She survived countless Bolshevik bullets that should have killed her.”
It was rather absurd for a former Cheka agent to be saying such things, but the ex-Chekist carefully explained to Anton Denikin the tragedy that had befallen the imperial family and the miraculous survival of Grand Duchess Anastasia.
“So she truly lives?”
“Yes. By now she should have taken control of Yekaterinburg. She urgently asked us to inform every nation of what has happened.”
The man who had once been a Cheka operative did not mention that they had been the ones to kill the imperial family. Since the princess had already forgiven them, there was no reason to confess now and risk being killed by the man standing before him.
Upon hearing the news, Anton Denikin briefly wondered if it might be a Bolshevik trap, but soon dismissed the thought. Something had clearly happened in Yekaterinburg, and the Bolsheviks would have to be insane to openly admit they had murdered the Tsar’s family.
Anton Denikin decided to spread this information to the warring nations of Europe. After all, if the Bolsheviks had slaughtered an entire royal family while leaving only one princess alive, there would surely be monarchist countries that felt threatened.
“The entire imperial family is dead, and only the princess survives?”
Naturally, the Czechoslovak Legion, which had advanced to the outskirts of Yekaterinburg to observe the situation, also received word of the princess’s survival.
At this time, the Czechoslovak Legion was wandering the railways of Siberia as an independent army that belonged to neither side. In the original history, they had been one of the reasons the White Army was able to maintain itself in eastern Siberia. They had dominated the Trans-Siberian Railway and made effective use of armored trains like the Orlik.
In the original timeline, the Bolsheviks had executed the Romanov family out of fear that the Czechoslovak Legion would hand them over to the Whites. But Anastasia’s survival had twisted events into something entirely different.
General Radola Gajda, commander of the Czechoslovak Legion, who had originally secured his retreat by handing over Admiral Kolchak to the Bolsheviks, showed great interest in this new development.
“The entire imperial family is dead, and only Grand Duchess Anastasia remains… Hmm.”
From a purely practical standpoint, securing the Romanovs and handing them to the Whites would have been beneficial. But according to the reports, the princess had completely taken control of Yekaterinburg and had even ordered Bolshevik corpses to be hung from crosses.
“Well, she can hardly be expected to show mercy to those who murdered her family. Still, for someone so young, she has quite the backbone.”
So what should they do? Should they deliver the princess to the White Army? Or was there another path?
For now, making direct contact with Grand Duchess Anastasia seemed wise. If she proved different from her incompetent father the Tsar, it would be worth expanding their options.