Ch.625Episode 23 – The Spy Who Returned from the Cold Country

# After the Era of Iron Rule Ended

A fierce chapter of turmoil, destined to be recorded in history, had begun.

“Official endorsement from the cabinet, indirect promotion through state media. You may use whatever method you prefer. As long as Anastasia Nikolayevna, as the next heir to the imperial throne, becomes firmly imprinted in the minds of the empire’s subjects and everyone else. I will accept whatever means necessary.”

The claimant to the throne methodically dissected everyone’s demands in a monotone voice.

The hidden intentions of her half-sisters who coveted the throne. The inner thoughts of the Crown Prince who stood closest to the imperial seat.

And even her own true feelings.

“My half-sisters are cunningly taking advantage of the empire’s critical juncture, using their pawns to challenge imperial authority. The foolish Crown Prince doesn’t even properly understand their wicked intentions, blindly trusting his position as the recognized successor.”

“I will cut out the foreign elements embedded within us who have lost their judgment in their mad ambition, reclaim my rightful authority, and continue the great work of my ancestors.”

“If necessary, even if it means shedding some blood.”

Was it a demand or a desire?

Or perhaps an ambition?

The youngest princess of the Smirnov family concluded the conversation with a light, joking tone.

“Ah—of course, you can rest assured. I don’t particularly wish to stain both hands with the blood of my brothers and sisters like my father did.”

Her seemingly innocent and harmless smile was just a bonus.

## Episode 23 – The Spy Who Returned from the Cold Country

Silence hung in the tea room for a while.

I brought my neatly arranged fingers to the corner of my lips and maintained my silence for a moment. As if waiting for my response, Princess Anastasia calmly savored her tea, taking her time.

“…I’ll need to receive instructions from my government.”

“How cautious of you.”

“Given the nature of the matter.”

Saying I would receive instructions was essentially the same as postponing my answer.

My response wasn’t merely about delaying a decision.

By using an indefinite expression, I reserved responsibility, and I didn’t specify any concrete deadline for when I would receive these instructions.

This meant that the Abbas government could observe the situation and postpone answering Princess Anastasia’s demands indefinitely, avoiding a response for an almost unlimited period without issue.

After all, I had never promised when I would get back with instructions.

This is why diplomatic rhetoric exists.

Princess Anastasia seemed to have noticed this aspect, but she didn’t appear particularly concerned. She traced the rim of her teacup with her fingertip as if it were only natural.

“What do you think? I’m suddenly curious. How does it look through an outsider’s eyes?”

“What aspect are you referring to?”

“Your impression of the palace struggle for the imperial throne.”

Ah, so that’s what she meant.

It was an extraordinary event, yet at the same time, not so extraordinary.

The desire for power has existed in every era.

A prince who killed his nephew to ascend the throne. The sultans of the Ottoman Empire for whom fratricide was customary. A Roman emperor who assassinated his brother with whom he had shared power as co-emperor.

We don’t even need to look that far.

Wasn’t the Great Leader of the northern region I once handled a prime example of what power struggles entail?

I looked at the princess before me with a calm gaze.

“It could be called a tragic affair.”

“That sounds more like a judgment than an impression.”

Princess Anastasia looked at me intently with an interested tone. And I, in turn, gazed into her blue eyes.

In the early days of his reign, Nicholas VI had a moment when he designated around 10,000 people as anti-imperial criminals and began executing and purging them on a massive scale.

Taking advantage of the sudden death of the previous emperor, the regent who had coveted the throne and the nobles who had clung to the usurper for power.

That incident earned Nicholas VI the nickname “the Butcher of Petrograd.”

The Chancellor Stolypin, who had been a childhood friend and had made significant contributions to supporting the prince and eventually guiding him to the emperor’s seat, actively promoted the executions.

That’s why the gallows of that era were familiarly yet cynically called “Stolypin’s Necktie.”

“……”

How much blood would the daughter of Nicholas VI spill?

It’s a question without a definitive answer at present.

Therefore, it was a trivial matter that didn’t even qualify for debate.

Compared to the gains and losses the Abbas government would face by supporting Princess Anastasia, and the events that would unfold if her plans failed.

The death of “just a few people” could be considered an extremely minor issue.

So I could only say this:

“I didn’t mean that the imperial family members fighting and shedding each other’s blood is tragic. Of course, that is tragic. What could be more tragic than siblings harming one another?”

“……”

“But you know what? With all due respect to Your Highness, wouldn’t it be fortunate if this ended as just a family quarrel where only the Smirnov family members get hurt?”

Clatter.

I put down my teaspoon with a sound and looked at the imperial heir with a lowered gaze.

“A civil war that fragments the empire is not a future Abbas desires either, Your Highness.”

*

In a democratic country, the way a winner is determined in a typical power struggle is simple.

The winner within a party is the one who secures the support of party members, and the winner of an election is the one who captures the hearts of voters.

In authoritarian countries, the calculation becomes a bit more complex.

In countries with one-party dictatorships like the Soviet Union or China, to be elected as a leader, one must suppress competitors in fierce ideological and political struggles.

From the moment of joining the party, one must engage in a continuous race through the whirlwind of factional conflicts within the party, and to gain an advantageous position, one must even draw upon the achievements of ancestors. Plus, one must avoid the bloody winds of purges that know no time or place.

Only those who survive all this and struggle upward earn the qualification to look toward the party leadership.

From this perspective, the calculation behind the power struggle in the Kiyen Empire was quite simple compared to typical dictatorships or authoritarian states.

Once recognized as the emperor’s successor, everything else would proceed smoothly.

The problem was that Nicholas VI was an unprecedented bastard, even by imperial historical standards.

“…His Majesty was a person of very meticulous character. Even after driving out the regent who had usurped the throne during the vacancy left by the sudden death of the previous emperor and reclaiming his rightful authority, Nicholas VI never let down his guard.”

The sudden death of his father, the previous emperor. Nicholas VI not only had his power taken away by a relative who acted as regent on behalf of the young prince but also had his life threatened.

There were numerous assassination attempts, but the prince eventually succeeded in driving out the usurper and restoring his rightful authority with the help of Count Stolypin, who was both a childhood friend and comrade.

This fairy-tale-like and righteous adventure of the prince reminded Nicholas VI of one fact:

Just as there cannot be two suns in the sky, power can never be shared. Even if it’s between blood brothers or father and son.

That was the background for why Valery, despite being appointed as Crown Prince, never received any real authority.

The father, who had ascended to the throne with the blood of his family staining both hands, was wary of sharing even a speck of power with his son.

Crown Prince Valery couldn’t achieve any notable accomplishments even after decades, and he never had a proper opportunity to carry out activities under the emperor’s endless checks and surveillance.

Even the most important military command authority was only beginning to be unofficially seized due to the overlap of the demon invasion and Nicholas VI’s illness.

It could be said that he was living a more tearful life as a successor than His Majesty King Camilla, who almost ended his life as a crown prince thanks to his long-lived mother.

The key was that the Crown Prince had not fully seized military authority as a successor.

All problems stemmed from there.

“I understand that there is currently no heir to the imperial throne who can exercise legitimate and flawless military command authority. While His Highness Valery is officially the successor to Emperor Nicholas VI, by law, he cannot exercise command over the entire army.”

“Because the military only takes orders from Father.”

“Legally, that’s correct.”

Legally, yes.

As I nodded and murmured, Princess Anastasia picked up the conversation with a light tone.

“You’re right. Though they are few, Valery brother has influence over generals in the capital and several military headquarters.”

She casually leaked to me the intimate relationship between the Crown Prince and military personnel. Her attitude suggested she expected the Abbas government would already know this much.

“It would be a serious matter if His Highness the Crown Prince has partially seized military authority. It’s against the law for His Highness Valery to act on behalf of His Majesty the Emperor, who is the military commander-in-chief. The imperial council members must be very concerned.”

I deliberately avoided mentioning that the emperor was ill.

That was top-secret information.

Naturally, Princess Anastasia also omitted any specific mention of Nicholas VI’s condition, vaguely focusing only on the Crown Prince’s attempt to seize military authority.

“The Imperial Council doesn’t know the truth. However, I’ve noticed a trend forming around the Finance Committee to reduce the excessive military budget.”

The Imperial Council is trying to take on the military, she says.

The pretext is that after spending lavishly for five years fighting the demons, it’s time to tighten the belt. In an ordinary country, this might be routine budget cutting, but in Kiyen, the story is a bit different.

Traditionally, the military in the Kiyen Empire was recognized as one of the highest power institutions.

This is partly because the military made significant contributions when Nicholas VI drove out the regent and reclaimed the throne in the past, and partly because, as an authoritarian state, the empire itself has a slightly militaristic character.

That’s why there’s even a joke in the empire that the military’s influence is more powerful than the council’s. It wasn’t just a joke; it was reality.

Here, a general could retire and serve as a member of a government-controlled party similar to Myanmar’s military party, wearing a gold badge, or even run businesses while still being an “active-duty soldier” because the military operated its own corporations.

In other words, it was a hotbed of corruption with opportunities to exploit everywhere if one was so inclined.

Moreover, the Imperial Council, which should have played the role of the legislative branch, had essentially become a rubber stamp due to repeated purges during Nicholas VI’s reign. In this empire where the separation of powers was broken, there were almost no checks and balances to restrain the military, which enjoyed the emperor’s favor.

The problem is—

“The Finance Committee members have made a difficult decision.”

“While the council members are well aware of the military’s efforts over the past five years, it’s also undeniable that the massive military expenditure has become a significant burden on our overall economy.”

The Imperial Council has finally drawn its sword.

As they say, when the tiger is away, the fox becomes the king.

Even without noticing the emperor’s absence, for some reason, the Imperial Council has begun to check and confront the military.

But the real problem lay elsewhere.

I touched my lips with my fingertips and momentarily lowered my voice.

“It’s understandable that the Imperial Council has moved to cut the military budget. As you said, the costs incurred during the Kiyen-Demon Border conflict have left an enormous debt that even the Kiyen Treasury cannot handle. Moreover, the time to discuss the reconstruction of the north is approaching…”

“The key issue lies not in the economy but in the military’s movements.”

“It’s certainly not normal for some military units to independently follow the Crown Prince’s orders.”

For reference, according to the empire’s constitution, military command authority can only be exercised by Emperor Nicholas VI.

Even if the emperor is bedridden with dementia, there is no legal authority specified anywhere that allows the Crown Prince to arbitrarily issue orders to the military.

In other words, this was clearly an overstepping of authority.

And no matter how much the Imperial Council had been reduced to a puppet under Nicholas VI’s reign, the council members were definitely not the type to sit back and watch as the politically inept Crown Prince snatched away military command authority.

In this situation, the policy drive initiated by the Imperial Council through “budget cuts” evolves into a zero-sum game between the Imperial Council, the Kiyen Ministry of Defense, and the Crown Prince.

The Imperial Council restrains the power of the Ministry of Defense through military budget cuts, restoring the authority of the legislative branch that had been suppressed, and Crown Prince Valery’s position is reduced accordingly.

Why? Because a significant portion of the political support base that Crown Prince Valery currently has is rooted in the “military.”

If “someone” were to send a letter to the Imperial Council denouncing “military forces acting on the Crown Prince’s orders,” the Kiyen Ministry of Defense would have no choice but to launch a large-scale investigation and internal inspection.

If the emperor, the supreme commander, is absent due to health reasons, there’s an issue of having to quickly appoint the Crown Prince as an interim commander through consultation with the Prime Minister’s office or the council.

And if military units are arbitrarily aligning themselves with the Crown Prince while the emperor is fine, that becomes a serious problem in a different sense.

But,

If the person who submitted the letter denouncing them is a member of the imperial family who can legitimately claim succession to the throne.

From this moment, the calculation surrounding the throne transforms into a very complex structure.

“Hmm…”

I could easily imagine several scenarios that had not yet occurred but could very well happen in the future.

First, controversy would arise centered on Nicholas VI’s illness.

When exactly did the emperor develop dementia?

When did he become unable to govern?

Who knew about the emperor’s condition?

If they knew, why wasn’t this fact announced?

Propaganda and agitation are always a fine line. In this process, Crown Prince Valery would likely face all sorts of offensives.

The successor who tried to prevent the confusion of a sudden vacancy would be criticized as an unfilial person who tried to hide his father’s illness out of desire for power, and his handling of the five-year conflict would be criticized as a plot to secretly seize military authority during the war and the emperor’s absence.

I don’t know which is closer to the truth, but whoever speaks more eloquently will likely gain the upper hand first.

From the Imperial Council’s perspective, this isn’t a bad topic.

Nicholas VI, who had been checking the council, has disappeared due to dementia, and the Crown Prince hasn’t yet established a proper support base.

Some will come forward to defend him, and others will try to attack him in alliance with other imperial family members. Whatever happens, the primary task will be to restore the position of the legislative branch that was lost during Nicholas VI’s reign. Perhaps the council members’ goal is to further emerge as a check against imperial tyranny.

Up to this point, it could be called an ordinary “family quarrel.”

The country will be in a mess because of Nicholas VI’s failure in raising his children, but somehow it would be manageable.

But what if the cornered Crown Prince Valery suddenly mobilizes the military units that follow his orders?

“……”

The military, born to protect the emperor, has lost its emperor.

When those who claim to be the next emperor emerge one after another, people naturally gather around those who demand the throne with legitimacy.

Military units that break away from the chain of command also emerge.

If everyone demands their rightful authority, and all possess proper legitimacy.

There’s only one way to determine the winner.

Civil war.

So I couldn’t help but cautiously mention this point.

“The population residing in Petrograd is slightly below 28 million, isn’t it?”

“That’s about right.”

“Although I am an Abbas person, human lives have no nationality, Your Highness. So it’s tragic. After all, the lives of 28 million people could be at stake.”

The claim that a “sudden change” could occur surrounding the succession structure after the death of the Kiyen Empire’s emperor has been raised from various quarters for a long time.

Not only was Nicholas VI’s tyranny severe, but due to his age, several protocols and scenarios were prepared for such a sudden change.

However, no one actually wanted a sudden change to occur.

If a civil war broke out in an empire with hundreds of thousands of standing troops, it couldn’t be dismissed as just one country turning into a wasteland.

Narrowly speaking, 28 million imperial citizens residing in Petrograd would be caught in the whirlwind of civil war and die.

It’s obvious that incalculable, catastrophic economic and military damage would cover numerous countries.

“Let me be clear, Princess Anastasia. Abbas believes that the Kiyen Empire will quickly regain stability and play a central role as a member of the international community. I will state this clearly once again.”

I calmly recited while staring at Princess Anastasia.

She was still smiling, making it difficult to guess her inner thoughts.

And shortly after, the princess moistened her lips with tea and responded:

“There will absolutely be no civil war. I understand your concerns, but you can set aside your worries.”

Princess Anastasia dismissed the possibility of civil war. Her voice was very firm and full of conviction.

As if there was not the slightest chance of such a thing happening.

It was a very definitive statement.

If she says so, I had nothing more to say.

“Thank you for your understanding.”

I just nodded and said I understood.

*

By the time the audience was concluded, the moon had already risen. I got into the carriage I had arrived in and left the castle.

“Did you have a good conversation?”

“She’s an interesting person.”

Grand Duchess Alexandra Petrovna was waiting in the carriage.

She had left a while ago. Judging by her indifferent gaze fixed on the scenery on the opposite side of the castle and the fact that she had changed from her dress into casual clothes, it seemed she was upset after being scolded a bit by her young niece.

Still, family is family.

Though she pretended not to care, she subtly asked me about the princess’s well-being, which suggested the Grand Duchess wasn’t entirely noble either.

“That young thing has always been a black sheep, causing her father no end of worry. It seems her personality hasn’t changed even after growing up. So, what did you two talk about inside? Did she commit any rudeness toward you?”

“Nothing of the sort. Rather, I’m worried I might have committed a faux pas.”

Since I’m not familiar with imperial etiquette.

I muttered half-jokingly, but it was half-sincere. Since etiquette differs from country to country, I couldn’t help but be ignorant of the Kiyen Empire’s court protocol.

Grand Duchess Alexandra Petrovna smiled and rested her chin on the window, as if to say such concerns could be set aside.

“It was an informal, unofficial audience, so why worry about cumbersome etiquette? Moreover, Stasia didn’t even give you time to prepare. So even if there were minor mistakes, you needn’t worry about being blamed.”

“Her Highness the Princess said something similar.”

After folding my coat and placing it on the seat, I added that we didn’t discuss anything particularly significant.

I wasn’t lying. That was the reality.

The conversation I had with Princess Anastasia today was nothing more than a simple chat. In a way, it could be seen as a kind of exploratory battle.

She conveyed her one-sided demands to me, and I also one-sidedly conveyed the government’s position.

Please have the Abbas government actively support her in the next imperial succession issue.

Please resolve the succession dispute within the imperial family as much as possible, as a civil war would give our government a headache too.

In short, we only confirmed each other’s positions without revealing the important kernels.

What benefits could the Abbas government gain by pushing Princess Anastasia as the empire’s next leader? What cards could Princess Anastasia use to push aside other imperial family members? No specific plans, discussions, or agreements were reached in today’s meeting.

Of course, this was what we had anticipated.

The significance of today’s audience was that Princess Anastasia had reached out to us.

The political division within the imperial family surrounding the throne was becoming visible.

Just confirming these two pieces of information was enough for the Abbas government to achieve a meaningful result.

-Clop, clop, clop.

As the hoofbeats echoed regularly, Grand Duchess Alexandra Petrovna carefully removed her hand that had been supporting her chin.

“This road leads to the imperial capital. Will you return to your country directly, or would you like to see my disciple who is currently staying at a mansion in Petrograd?”

“I need to go to the embassy. I must report to the embassy as soon as the audience is over. Thank you for the invitation, but I’ll just accept your kind intention.”

“That’s a shame. I thought we could have dinner with Zeinab, who has also arrived.”

The Grand Duchess nodded as if it couldn’t be helped.

She seemed disappointed.

“I’ve arranged to meet with Princess Anastasia again in a day or two, but it’s uncertain how things will go…”

“My goodness. Stasha isn’t a common housewife; how could you meet her privately?”

“No, it’s not like I want to meet her. She asked to see me, so what am I supposed to do?”

Am I someone who meets a princess just because I want to? Of course, I’m going because she asked me to come.

As I twisted my eyebrows and spoke as if it were absurd, the Grand Duchess waved her hand with a slight smile.

“It was a joke. Why are you getting so upset?”

“Oh my…”

I held my forehead in disbelief, and Alexandra Petrovna smiled contentedly and relaxed her shoulders.

After the soft laughter lingered in the carriage, silence enveloped it again.

Amidst the hoofbeats echoing in a regular rhythm and the slight vibration, I cast a glance at the Grand Duchess with a subtle expression.

Aware of my gaze, she immediately responded without even looking in my direction.

“Do you have something to say?”

“……”

After being momentarily lost in thought, I slowly opened my mouth and began to give my answer.

“Grand Duchess, you seem to care a lot for Princess Anastasia.”

“Of course.”

“What about the other imperial family members?”

Alexandra Petrovna smiles.

“Well, they’re family, so how could I not care for them?”

The Grand Duchess’s face looked peaceful as she said this. I silently nodded and leaned my head against the seat.

In a world overflowing with words, silence is golden.

It was a terrible tragedy.