Chapter 39
Chapter 39
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Translator: Ace
Chapter: 39
Chapter Title: Russian Empire (1)
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St. Petersburg, Winter Palace.
“Your Majesty. Prince Heinrich of Prussia and his wife have arrived in St. Petersburg.”
“Is that so.”
The Emperor of the Russian Empire, Nicholas II, who had been standing by the window, turned to gaze at the grandfather clock in one corner of the study upon hearing his chamberlain’s words.
The hands of the clock were still pointing to 2 p.m.
“I thought they wouldn’t arrive until late afternoon, but they got here sooner than expected. I should’ve gone out to greet them in person.”
“Shall we prepare now?”
“No, it’s too late for that. It’d just cause unnecessary hardship for the staff. Let’s just wait.”
The chamberlain bowed in affirmation to Nicholas II’s gentle voice.
Watching this, Nicholas II turned his head back toward the window.
Beyond the glass panes, in the gardens of the Winter Palace, Nicholas II’s daughters Olga and Tatiana were running about with bright, sunny smiles on their faces.
Nicholas II gazed fondly at his daughters’ adorable, heartwarming figures, his thoughts drifting to his other daughters, Maria and Anastasia.
Those little ones were still just tiny, fragile infants who could barely speak, but someday Maria and Anastasia would grow up in a flash and join their big sisters in romping through the garden.
As he anticipated that day, Nicholas II also felt a twinge of regret at how quickly his children were growing.
Parents always wished their children could stay young forever, after all.
“Your Majesty, Finance Minister Sergei Witte, Foreign Minister Vladimir Lamsdorff, and War Minister Aleksei Kuropatkin have arrived.”
But as always, pleasant moments passed far too swiftly.
At the chamberlain’s words, Nicholas II’s face—which had been smiling warmly at the sight of his daughters at play—stiffened.
He knew exactly why they had come to see him.
Much as he wanted to send them packing, the suspected reason made that impossible.
With a small sigh of irritation, Nicholas II granted them an audience.
“Your Majesty.”
“Witte.”
Soon the doors to the study swung open, and Finance Minister Sergei Witte—the man who effectively led Imperial Russia’s bureaucrats—entered at the head of the group, followed by Foreign Minister Lamsdorff and War Minister Kuropatkin as they bowed toward the Tsar.
Nicholas II first acknowledged the greetings from the three ministers.
But Witte’s next words were more than enough to make Nicholas II grimace.
“We’ve heard that Prince Heinrich of Prussia and his wife have just arrived in St. Petersburg.”
“You heard about it awfully fast. I only just got the news myself.”
“The purpose of Prince Heinrich’s visit to the Russian Empire is what it is. I trust Your Majesty is aware of the matter.”
Nicholas II nodded with a reluctant expression.
The Tsar and the Russian government had gleaned a rough sense of the German government’s intentions via a secret telegram from the Russian Embassy in Germany, sent before Prince Heinrich, his wife, and Hans departed the German Empire.
“Military cooperation with the German Empire, eh.”
That said, neither Nicholas II nor Witte knew the specifics of what sort of military cooperation was involved.
The Germans hadn’t shared any further details on whatever they were plotting.
They’d insisted on security grounds: hear the details straight from Prince Heinrich’s mouth?
Just how crucial was this that even those haughty, arrogant Germans were acting so secretive and cautious?
Nicholas II felt nothing more than idle curiosity, but the three ministers standing before him wore grave expressions, unlike their Tsar.
“Your Majesty, as you know, the German Empire behaving like this is completely unprecedented.”
“Indeed. There’s surely some scheme afoot.”
“The military is raising various concerns as well.”
Witte, Lamsdorff, and Kuropatkin spoke in turn.
They viewed Germany’s sudden, baffling actions with deep suspicion.
“It’s just Willy’s whimsy again. You know how he is.”
But Nicholas II’s response remained curt.
He knew his dear cousin Wilhelm II’s capricious nature all too well.
“But Your Majesty, even granting that, the timing is far too suspicious.”
“Timing?”
Witte nodded at the Tsar’s question before replying.
“Yes. As Your Majesty knows, Britain has only just finalized its alliance with Japan.
Quite coincidentally—and quite recently.”
“Ah, the Anglo-Japanese Alliance.”
Nicholas II unconsciously touched the old scar he’d received in Japan during his days as crown prince, his face twisting in a frown.
He knew full well who the Anglo-Japanese Alliance was meant to contain.
None other than Russia—his own empire.
“But what does that have to do with this visit from Heinrich?”
Besides, he couldn’t help wondering if this was really worth all the fuss.
He was annoyed by Britain’s maneuver of allying with that puny Far Eastern island nation just to obstruct Russia’s path, but it wasn’t as if Britain had never checked Russia like this before.
The Anglo-Japanese Alliance might sound grandiose, but it was just Britain being Britain, as always.
Yet the ministers’ thinking diverged from their Tsar’s.
“Your Majesty, the German Empire approaching our Russian Empire with such a request right now, as the Anglo-Japanese Alliance takes shape—it can’t be mere coincidence.”
“Not coincidence?”
“No.”
Witte nodded firmly.
“But the Anglo-Japanese Alliance hurts only our Russian Empire in the end. The German Empire has no stake in it whatsoever.”
Of course, the Kaiser must have been furious about it.
Willy’s peculiar loathing for the yellow races—especially Japan and the Japanese—was infamous across Europe.
“But Your Majesty, diplomacy knows no absolutes.”
“Hmm... Still, I can’t quite judge it yet.”
Nicholas II said.
“In any case, shouldn’t we at least hear Heinrich out first?”
“That’s true, but...”
“We can hash out this tedious business later. Let’s leave it there—you’re dismissed.”
Nicholas II turned his back on Witte and the ministers as he issued his order to withdraw.
He wanted no part of a headache right now.
“Phew, who knew I’d miss dry land this much.”
Free at last from that hellish time at sea, I muttered as my feet finally touched the solid ground I’d longed for so desperately.
I kept taking deep breaths, slowly raising my head.
St. Petersburg.
The heart of Imperial Russia, preserving the glory of Peter the Great and Empress Catherine.
And the cradle that would one day turn half the world red with revolution.
“Russia’s always cold, no matter the era. Always blanketed in snow.”
“Your Highness.”
Irene Princess—Prince Heinrich’s wife and my companion on this Russian journey—approached my side.
She wasn’t a beauty, but she was cheerful and kindhearted.
No wonder she and Prince Heinrich got along so well.
As Irene Princess and I took in the sights of this storied city for a moment, men in crisp suits approached our group.
Prince Heinrich muttered.
“Looks like Nicky sent people to fetch us.”
As the prince said, the men spotted Prince Heinrich and Irene Princess and promptly bowed with utmost courtesy.
“Your Highness, Your Highness. By command of His Majesty Nicholas II, we are here to escort Your Highnesses to the Winter Palace. The carriage is prepared—please, this way.”
“Hm.”
“But... is that yellow boy part of Your Highness’s entourage...?”
The men asked cautiously, puzzled expressions on their faces.
A refreshingly novel reaction after so long.
It seemed my name hadn’t spread to Russia.
As I opened my mouth to speak, Prince Heinrich beat me to it.
“Ah, this fellow’s Baron Hans von Choi. A kid the court took in. I just brought him along as a servant to let him see Russia.”
“Ah, I see.”
The man nodded to Prince Heinrich’s explanation.
Though he still looked dubious.
In any case, we boarded the carriage and set off for the Winter Palace, where Nicholas II awaited.
The road from the harbor to the Winter Palace was quite long and dull.
“Hans, see that building over there?”
Perhaps to ease the boredom a bit, Prince Heinrich pointed out the window at a structure.
“That’s the Mariinsky Theater. Home of the Russian Empire’s most venerable Mariinsky Ballet.”
“I see.”
“And straight ahead lies Kazan Cathedral and the Church of the Savior on Blood. Where Uncle Alexander met his end. Truly tragic.”
Alexander II.
Son of Princess Friederike—Wilhelm I’s sister—and thus great-uncle to Prince Heinrich and Wilhelm II.
‘European royalty’s all linked by blood if you dig deep enough. Family trees are a nightmare to memorize.’
And the rampant cousin marriages didn’t help.
Even Prince Heinrich and Irene Princess right in front of me were cousins.
Prince Heinrich’s mother was—as everyone knew—Princess Royal Victoria Adelaide, Queen Victoria’s eldest daughter, while Irene Princess’s mother was Queen Victoria’s second daughter, Princess Alice.
Small wonder Queen Victoria was called the Grandmother of Europe.
Screech—!
“Hm?”
While we’d been chatting idly with Prince Heinrich and Irene Princess, the carriage came to a halt.
We hadn’t reached the Winter Palace.
“What’s going on?”
“Apologies, Your Highness. The road’s blocked up ahead...”
“Blocked?”
At the coachman’s somewhat flustered tone, we exchanged bewildered glances.
‘If the road’s blocked, just take a detour. Why stop dead?’
Something felt off.
But my question was soon answered by a familiar melody drifting into my ears.
“Вставай, подымайся, рабочий народ! Вставай на врагов, брат голодный!
(Rise up, rise up, working people! Rise against the enemies, hungry brother!)”
In a way I hadn’t expected.
“This song...”
“La Marseillaise.”
I didn’t know Russian, but the tune was unmistakable.
It was the famous French national anthem, after all.
Yet in the Russian Empire of this era, ‘La Marseillaise’ carried another connotation.
Or rather, it was being sung for its true original purpose.
“Workers.”
The Workers’ Marseillaise.
Before the Internationale, the most widespread folk song in the Russian Empire.
A song brimming with the fury of the Russian people, worn down by the Tsar and nobility’s oppression.
I cracked open the window and peered outside.
Soldiers were blocking the street, while throngs of workers in rough clothes bellowed the Workers’ Marseillaise in furious voices.
“Looks like the workers are holding a demonstration or strike.”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake.”
Prince Heinrich wore a pained expression.
At that moment, the Russian official we’d seen at the harbor came dashing toward us in a panic.
“Terribly sorry, Your Highness, Your Highness. There’s a disturbance ahead...”
“I know. A demonstration?”
The official nodded vigorously at Prince Heinrich’s words, sweating bullets despite the freezing cold.
He must have been beside himself.
No embarrassment quite like making a fool of yourself before foreign royalty.
“Shouldn’t we hurry and take another route?”
Prince Heinrich suggested.
I agreed—lingering here wasn’t wise.
But the Russian official dabbed at his sweat with a handkerchief and replied calmly.
“No need for concern. The disturbance will be cleared shortly.”
“Hm? What do you...”
Tweeeeeet—!
Prince Heinrich voiced his confusion at the official’s cryptic remark.
But before he could finish, shrill whistles pierced the air from all directions—and we grasped his meaning.
“Атака (Charge)!”
A Russian shout rang out, followed by the earth-shaking thunder of countless hooves.
Cossacks.
The Tsar’s loyal blade—and the terror of Russia’s workers—the Cossack cavalry.
Their involvement meant the Russian Imperial government had opted for brute force to crush the demonstration.
As always.
“Trample them all flat!”
“Kyaaack!!”
Soon shouts and screams erupted chaotically outside the carriage.
Prince Heinrich clasped the hand of the deathly pale Irene Princess, glaring furiously at the official.
‘You had to pick right here?’
His face seemed to demand.
Given the gravity of this Russian visit, he held his anger in check.
The official, at a loss for words, kept coughing awkwardly.
A few minutes passed like that.
Once the screams fully subsided, the carriage lurched forward again.
I peered out the window.
Trash strewn about—likely dropped by fleeing demonstrators—Cossacks dragging away the subdued protesters, and bloodstains spattering the street all painted a vivid picture of what had transpired.
“Phew... Suddenly, Germany feels so far away.”
I nodded wordlessly at Prince Heinrich’s words.
For some reason, this trip didn’t feel like it would be smooth sailing either.