The Last Princess's Debut on the White Army Stage
The sharp crack of a rifle split the dry air.
At that signal, a red wave surged forward. They were coming to swallow Yekaterinburg whole.
Boom. Boom. Boom.
Artillery shells lobbed by the Bolsheviks rained down on the trenches. Their accuracy was abysmal. If your shells can’t hit the target, at least calculate the damn range. But these bastards just mindlessly hurled explosives like idiots.
After bombarding us for a while, the Red Army’s infantry finally began their charge.
“Crush every last reactionary still clinging to the rotten nostalgia of the past!”
Lenin must have been desperate. He was throwing the Red forces at us no matter what. There were probably quite a few former Imperial soldiers mixed in among them—men who had turned their backs on the Tsar and joined the enemy. Or perhaps they were simply enraged after seeing the Bolshevik scum crucified on crosses outside the city. Either way, it was fortunate for us. The more recklessly they moved, the more the public’s sentiment would turn against them.
The war had only just ended. People were finally catching their breath, thinking the workers might finally have a chance to stand tall, and now another war had begun. And they were sending an army specifically to attack me, the one holed up in Yekaterinburg. Of course resentment would build. A “workers’ nation” that promised no more war and the true liberation of the serfs had instead ignited a civil war. To anyone watching, the one in the wrong was clearly Lenin, and the one in the right was Grand Duchess Anastasia.
In that light, the Bolsheviks I had described became nothing more than a pack of authoritarian devils hungry for power. Their image had plummeted that far. Still, this was better. Defending was always easier than attacking.
Every Bolshevik I killed here would reduce their numbers. That was all that mattered.
“Your Highness, please withdraw to the rear.”
General Gaida seemed genuinely worried I might die. But that was never going to happen. I had to stand here and somehow restore even a sliver of trust in the Imperial family to make up for my useless father, Nicholas II, who had single-handedly ruined the country with his incompetence.
“This battle started because of me. I cannot step back now.”
Ignoring not only General Gaida but also the pleas of the volunteer soldiers gathered from the city itself, I raised my Mosin-Nagant and took aim at the charging Bolsheviks. The rifle was truly garbage. Having to wield such a ridiculously large weapon in Anastasia’s slender body felt absurd. Even during the Russo-Japanese War, people had said the Japanese rifles were better. There was no need to say more.
“At least the Czech Legion is on our side. That’s our one saving grace.”
This was by no means a disadvantageous position for us. The infamous Czechoslovak Legion was right here with us. Simply hunkering down and defending would be enough to cook the enemy alive. I could understand Lenin’s thinking. If he didn’t capture me here even at the cost of heavy losses, the ghost of the empire they had destroyed would rise again, and the civil war would become far more difficult. If the war dragged on, the side at a disadvantage would be Lenin and the Bolsheviks, who had seduced the workers with sweet words to establish their red government.
That was why they were gritting their teeth and holding on. They were desperately trying to grab the double-headed eagle flag of the Russian Empire by the collar and drag it back up.
Before long, a single Bolshevik had closed in on my position.
Yes. Come exactly like that.
I was grateful this world wasn’t peaceful. In a shitstorm like this, survival instincts sharpened beautifully.
Bang! Bang!
The bullets that flew from my muzzle buried themselves in the Bolshevik’s chest.
“Guhk!”
The round I fired had pierced straight through his heart, killing him instantly. It was strange. I felt almost nothing watching a person die. It seemed I had grown quite accustomed to this sort of situation.
The Red Army had finally reached the trench line. Some of them were probably former Imperial soldiers, but the majority had to be freshly conscripted troops. Did they really think they could defeat me and the Czech Legion, who were holding this hellish trench warfare with nothing but fresh conscripts?
I had positioned myself quite intimidatingly, but capturing Yekaterinburg had always been nearly impossible for them. The defenders here included veterans from the Great War, and the Czech Legion that had been pressuring the Reds. We were fully committed to defense.
“Give those infected by the red plague the liberation of death!”
“Liberation!”
Our side was also in a rather strange state. Although I had led the way, these were desperate times, so a certain fanaticism was necessary. As a result, the Bolsheviks had become Satan, and the red plague was treated literally like an infectious disease. They were portrayed as cruel and barbaric monsters who would even try to kill the last remaining princess. The fact that they had scraped together a handful of cockroaches from Yekaterinburg and sent them as an army only reinforced my narrative. Once it all lined up perfectly with what I had said, the defenders of Yekaterinburg began treating the enemy soldiers like literal zombies.
Bang! Bang!
Occasional bullets flew our way, but there was no need to worry. That mysterious old man must have given me some kind of cheat ability when I fell into this world, because it seemed I wouldn’t be dying anytime soon.
The enemy continued to throw themselves at us for some time. Despite the desperate struggle of the volunteers and the tens of thousands of Czech troops defending the city, the supposedly mighty Red Army could not break through.
Of course, there were moments of danger.
The trenches were occasionally threatened. Just like now—a Bolshevik bastard had jumped into the trench. He looked like a young man who had only recently shed his boyish features. The bayonet fixed to his Mosin-Nagant slashed viciously toward me.
Kiiing!
I barely managed to block it with my own rifle. It was heavy. A dull impact traveled through the Mosin-Nagant and sent an electric jolt through my entire body. As expected, the strength of a seventeen-year-old girl couldn’t easily overpower even a starving peasant soldier.
Still, I squeezed out every last drop of strength I had and shoved him sideways. Fortunately, the idiot clearly hadn’t received proper training; he was pushed back easily. It was obvious. This one was a conscripted soldier. Just a pitiful young man who had been indoctrinated.
If I had a little time, I might have been able to persuade him. He might have thrown off his red coat and joined the White Army. But there was no time for that here. This Battle of Yekaterinburg carried special meaning.
In Yekaterinburg, where the princess herself served as supreme commander, we were holding back the Bolshevik regular army. Simply repelling the Red forces here would be enough for the White Army to see me as their new symbol. The warlords who had been hesitating and fiddling with their calculators would finally have to make a choice.
Yes. This battle was my debut.
I had to win this defensive fight and turn Yekaterinburg into the central stronghold of the White Army. There was no time to leisurely persuade anyone.
“Don’t resent me.”
The young man, clearly never expecting to be pushed aside by a girl, widened his eyes and tried to say something. Before he could, my bayonet plunged straight into his heart.
Shuk!
With the sensation of stabbing into a lump of meat, the young man’s eyes widened once before he lost consciousness forever.
Most likely, the quality of their army wasn’t much higher than this dead youth. It was still early in the civil war; the Red command structure wasn’t properly established yet, and the famous Imperial Russian officers and generals had not yet begun cooperating with them. Moreover, as long as I held out, fewer Imperial soldiers would join the Reds than in the original history.
There was simply no way for such an army to break through this place. Aside from the few soldiers lucky enough to leap into the trenches, there were hardly any Bolsheviks capable of crossing over to our side with any real force.
Bang! Bang!
On top of that, I was standing at the very front, firing my rifle myself. Unlike Nicholas II, who had gone to the front lines and done nothing but cause trouble, I was personally shooting the Bolsheviks—who had once been my father’s subjects—to protect this city and its loyal citizens.
Ratatatatata—!
Every time the Czechoslovak Legion’s machine guns spat fire, the cockroach-like enemy soldiers collapsed in heaps, scattering blood and flesh. A scene of blood and slaughter. Corpses that could drive a person insane. In that sea of blood, I wielded the Mosin-Nagant—which was far too large to be called a mere rifle—stabbing and shooting the enemy.
At one point, I slashed the throat of a Bolshevik who had jumped into the trench. Blood gushed out like a fountain, soaking my face and body.
“R-Red Princess!”
In the middle of this chaotic slaughter, one of the Bolsheviks recognized my face. Seeing me drenched in blood, he screamed that title.
Hey, you idiot. Calling me that makes me sound like one of you Bolsheviks.
I put a bullet hole right between his eyes.
“The word ‘red’ only applies to you Bolsheviks. I have no desire to be placed on the same line as you reds.”
After killing a few more, the senses from my previous life began to return. The days of bloody struggle for survival, begging for a single piece of food, fighting desperately against those who tried to steal what little I had. Recalling that familiar feeling, I moved this girl’s light body to its fullest potential.
I really wanted a cigarette. Anastasia had been a smoker. She and her father Nicholas had even shared cigarettes together—a typical smoker of this era who didn’t understand the dangers. Perhaps because it was her body, the craving was particularly strong.
Of course, that was a luxury right now. I desperately moistened my parched mouth with saliva and pulled the trigger of the Mosin-Nagant once more.
Bang!
The things before my eyes were nothing but cockroaches. They weren’t human. They were something between zombies pretending to be human and actual vermin. I slaughtered them without mercy.
“Aaaaargh!”
“Gaaahk!”
The reds, the cockroaches, lost their strength and collapsed to the ground. Although still inferior to modern firearms, my body had adapted surprisingly well thanks to prior training. Countless red waves crashed against our solid defensive line, but I continued to fight with composure, holding them back.
“To think our young princess is fighting so fiercely…”
“We cannot stay idle. Let’s kill even one more of those Bolshevik bastards!”
The small contingent of Cossack troops who had joined us also trampled the red cockroaches underfoot. After fighting desperately like that for a long time, the momentum of the red wave finally began to diminish noticeably.
“Comrades! Are you really going to run when the reactionaries are right in front of us? The first one to flee will get a hole in his head from my gun!”
“N-No! I don’t want to fight anymore!”
“Save me! I only followed because they said it would be easy!”
“You said we were suppressing reactionaries! This is a real war!”
As expected of Bolsheviks with no real foundation, they began cursing in Russian and scrambling in panic. At least we were in a defensive position, so our casualties were low, but they were attacking and being mowed down in droves by machine guns and rifle fire. Watching their comrades right beside them turn into bloody rags must have been terrifying for conscripts who had received almost no training.
“Damn it! Retreat!”
After hammering away for some time and realizing they couldn’t break through, the Bolsheviks finally withdrew. Like the ebb and flow of the tide, they fled in an instant to save their own skins. Some even crawled away on all fours.
“““Long live Princess Anastasia! Long live the Russian Empire!”””
The sweet taste of victory, the thrill of it, washed over me as I realized we had truly repelled the Bolsheviks. I let out a deep sigh of relief, brushing a hand over my chest. I had survived this hell once again.
I raised my trembling arms and clenched my fists tightly. There was still a long way to go, but we had won.
At that moment, an officer from the Czech Legion came running toward me. He paused for a second, startled by my blood-soaked appearance, then quickly spoke.
“Your Highness. We have detected an army approaching from the east.”
“Is it a red flag?”
“No. It is the Russian Empire’s tricolor with the double-headed eagle.”
So that was why the reds had retreated so suddenly. The tricolor coming from the east. It had to be the White Army. The decision to send the Czech Legion had finally borne fruit. For the first time in a long while, I could breathe a little easier.