Alexei Nikolaevich Romanov

[ImperatorXCV]

Alexei didn't know what would happen to him now that he was dying again. He didn't come from this world; he was a transmigrator. He came from twenty-first-century Earth, where modern conveniences were readily available. Easy access to the internet and food had always felt like heaven to him, until he died in a car accident while going to pick up his takeout from his favorite fast-food chain.

When he regained consciousness, he was reborn into this world of cultivation. He thought he might be the main character of this world, destined to receive a golden finger, because that was what transmigrators always got whenever they reincarnated into a new world. But he didn't. He received no golden finger, no system. Still, he persevered and joined a sect to pursue immortality and unparalleled strength, despite the hardship and constant killing required to obtain resources.

His primary focus in cultivation and techniques was assassination. He was capable of fighting his enemies head-on, but a quick and clean death was what he preferred. And now, here he was, lying and dying in this wretched place, betrayed by his senior brothers, who didn't want to share the heavenly treasures they had obtained from the tomb of the heavenly immortal. How wrong he had been to think he was the protagonist of this world and story, only to end up dying because of his own foolishness.

Death was not something foreign to him. Now, he wondered what would happen next. Would he be reborn again? Would he be the protagonist in his next life? Or would he truly die and join the others in oblivion? These were the thoughts running through his mind as he took his last breath.

November 15, 1895

"Push, Your Majesty," urged the chief midwife as she assisted the noblewoman giving birth in a large room bustling with people. The lady was the wife of the Tsar of Imperial Russia, and the atmosphere was charged with urgency and chaos. The chief midwife and her team worked diligently, wiping sweat and blood from the woman's body and ensuring she remained as comfortable as possible. Surgeons and physicians were also present, ready to intervene should any complications arise during the delivery or to examine the baby once it was born. Despite her exhaustion, the lady displayed remarkable courage as she endured the trials of childbirth.

"Push, Your Majesty! The head is showing. It will be over soon," the midwife called out again when she saw the baby beginning to emerge. This time, the noble lady did not hesitate and pushed with all her strength. It worked. Soon, the room was filled with the sound of a baby crying, so loud it seemed to echo throughout the entire palace.

"It's a prince, Your Majesty!" the midwife exclaimed with a smile as she wiped the blood and grime from the newborn. The birth of a prince filled everyone in the room with joy; to them, it seemed far more significant that the child was a prince rather than a princess.

"And he will be a strong prince, judging by how loudly he cries!"
The empress did not hear any of this. Too exhausted, she fell asleep as soon as she knew the baby had been safely delivered.

Not long after, the doors opened and the Tsar of Imperial Russia entered upon hearing his son's cries. He looked at the baby with a smile full of happiness, clearly delighted to have a prince. His gaze sharpened when the midwife handed the child to him. To his surprise, the baby stared back with wide eyes and fell silent. The Tsar felt immense joy at having an heir, especially one who already showed such vitality.

"Alexei, his name will be Alexei Nikolaevich," he said gently, cradling his son as he watched the child drift off to sleep in his arms. Afterward, he handed the baby back to the midwife and checked on his wife. Seeing that she was merely asleep and exhausted filled him with relief.

Shortly after, the rest of his family entered the room, gazing at the sleeping prince. Grand Duke Michael Alexandrovich, now third in line to the succession after his brother Grand Duke George Alexandrovich and the newly born Alexei, congratulated him with a pat on the arm.

"Congratulations, brother! It seems you can relax now that you have an heir."

Nicholas was glad to sense that he genuinely meant it. He smiled and replied, "Thank you, brother." Still, he was saddened that his other brother, Grand Duke George Alexandrovich, could not be with him at this moment. A moment later, Grand Duchess Xenia Alexandrovna also offered her congratulations before turning her attention to the baby, leaving her brothers to continue their conversation.

It did not take long for the rest of the family members to arrive and see the child. Once their curiosity was satisfied, they departed one by one. Nicholas then turned to his aide.

"Arrange for a baptism as soon as possible. Also, prepare a grand banquet to be held in the coming months to celebrate the birth of my son and heir."

He spoke while they were still in the birthing room, clearly overjoyed. He was willing to spare no expense to make this the grandest banquet in centuries. Although he was still grieving the death of his father, Alexander III, this was a time for celebration. With the birth of his son and heir, it was time for the empire to rejoice.

"Yes, Your Imperial Majesty," Boris, the Tsar's trusted aide, replied before excusing himself to begin preparations for the baptism and banquet. Letters would need to be sent to nobles and other important figures throughout the empire. Considering the time required for correspondence and travel to St. Petersburg, and the need for the baby to be healthy enough to be presented at court, the grand banquet would be held six months later, while the baptism could be carried out as soon as possible.

Boris was thrilled that the Tsar and Tsarina had welcomed a son and heir as their first child. He was determined to ensure that this banquet would be the grandest event of the century. To accomplish this, he would need to gather his subordinates and begin drafting a detailed plan.

Not long after the birth of Alexei Nikolaevich Romanov, a formal Orthodox baptism was held at the Church of the Holy Apostles Peter and Paul.

Soon after, an official announcement was made throughout the empire. It stated: "From now on, in accordance with the Fundamental Laws of the Empire, the Imperial title of Heir Tsarevich, and all the rights pertaining to it, belong to Our son, Alexei." The people rejoiced, while the revolutionaries did not.

6 months later…

Alexei was unsure whether to laugh or cry with happiness the moment he realized he had been reborn yet again. No one wants to die, or at least, that was what he believed. Because of this, he felt a deep sense of joy inside, even if it did not show on his baby's face. He was curious about where he had ended up this time. Judging by the number of visitors he received and their elegant clothing, it seemed his new family held a prominent position in this country, or perhaps in this world. He rarely laughed, even when people tried to make him smile. Instead, he simply stared at them with open curiosity.

It was difficult at first, but this was not the first time Alexei had become a baby. The first time, he had not been aware of it. During his second life, his first reincarnation, he had experienced it firsthand, trapped in a body that could not even move freely, able only to eat, sleep, and soil itself. Now he was going through it once more. After the happiness of being reborn again subsided, the bitterness of living through infancy returned.

Alexei was always listening to the conversations around him while pretending to sleep. He despised this body; it could hardly stay awake for more than a few hours. He could only wake up when he was hungry or needed to relieve himself. After six months of constant eavesdropping and comparing words to actions, he had begun to understand both the language and his situation. He realized he was in the Russian Empire, that his name was Alexei, his father Nicholas II, and his mother Alexandra Feodorovna. This knowledge helped him grasp that he was now back in his original world, but in the past.

Oh, how he wished he could smash everything within reach with his tiny arms and hands, yet he couldn't. If whoever was responsible for his reincarnation truly had such power, why not send him back to the modern world instead of the past? Nonetheless, after a while, he calmed himself. After all, he had already endured the brutality and harshness of the cultivation world. Compared to that, the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries were still more appealing.

Though he did not remember much history from his first life, he knew for certain that the First World War was approaching. He also recalled very little about the name given to him by his father, Alexei, only that this Alexei was the youngest child of Tsar Nicholas II and the only son. This realization led him to wonder, where were his sisters?

"Damn, there's so much to think about," he mused. The history he had learned in his past life consisted mostly of monarchs, their families, and the empires that existed, and even that knowledge was superficial at best. He supposed he would have to make the best of what he had. Still, he promised himself to live this life to the fullest and to avoid dying before reaching old age. After all, he had yet to experience what it truly meant to grow old.

During those six months, Alexei tried to sense qi in this world using the many cultivation techniques he knew from the cultivation world. He noted that the qi here was extremely thin, so faint that he could barely feel it, yet it undeniably existed. After repeatedly attempting different techniques, from high-grade ones down to the lowest, only a low-quality body cultivation technique from his second life worked. It was a technique that enhanced physical strength, agility, and the senses. It strengthened only the body and nothing more.

He felt bitter after confirming that he could not cultivate powerful techniques that would allow him to conquer the world with ease and be revered as a god. But he soon got over it. He had no desire to conquer the world anyway. The drama and politics that came with such power already gave him a headache. All he wanted was to live as freely as possible. Being the Tsarevich was already a privilege; being emperor was more than one could reasonably expect, assuming he and his family survived the coming revolutions, of course. He did not want to play politics if he could avoid it. If possible, he would prefer to solve everything through assassination, but he knew that was impossible in this world. He would face it when the time came.

Anyway, perhaps those heaven-defying techniques were simply too powerful for this world, or perhaps he had been weakened during reincarnation for the sake of balance. It was also possible that the qi here was simply insufficient for higher-level techniques. No matter the reason, this body cultivation technique was still enough to help him survive a world filled with revolutions, uprisings, and wars. For now, Alexei cultivated the only technique that worked while pretending to sleep. Who knew how long it would take him to reach level nine of body cultivation? The qi in this world was so thin it might as well not exist at all if not for his complete cultivation technique. Better to start early than not at all.

Alexei continued pretending to sleep while examining his body for any diseases or issues. He discovered that he did indeed have an illness, though he was unsure what it was. Still, he wanted to see whether his body cultivation technique could cure, or at least suppress it. He felt nervous, knowing the technique was low quality, and worried it might not be effective against this kind of disease. Fortunately, after repeated attempts and careful circulation of qi, he began to feel a slow and gentle healing process taking place. He knew it would take time, but he was grateful to learn that the illness could be healed.

Alexei did not know how long he had been faking sleep when he was disturbed by one of his maids. Seriously, he didn't even have any privacy in this world, he thought.
"Your Imperial Highness, it's time to wake up for the banquet."

She lifted Alexei into her arms and began dressing him like a peacock, the clothes itchy to the extreme. He did not want to go through this experience again if he could avoid it, but he had no choice. He remained silent, watching the maid work while listening to her chatter, pretending not to understand her, even though he actually did.

The maid carried Alexei from his room to his mother, who smiled brightly the moment she saw him. She embraced him and showered his face with kisses, much to his annoyance. He flailed his arms in protest, trying to stop her, but that only made her laugh more.

"Look at our little Alexei, he doesn't want his mother's kisses anymore," she said, pretending to pout as she looked at her husband, who was watching the scene with a bright smile. The rest of the family simply observed from a distance.

"You can kiss him more after the banquet if you wish, but we need to go now and present Alexei to the guests," the Tsar of Imperial Russia said. With that, he rose from his seat and led his wife and family toward the banquet hall, where the nobles and important figures of the empire were already waiting.

Banquet Hall…

"Damn, these people are really dressed for the occasion, and what is this? Too much perfume,"

Alexei thought the moment he saw the crowd. Even from the doorway, he could smell the various perfumes they had doused themselves in, and the overwhelming scent made him feel dizzy. Everyone stood when the Tsar of Imperial Russia entered with his family, smiling as they offered their blessings. But Alexei knew better. Behind those smiling faces were snakes, ready to strike the moment an opportunity presented itself.

Still, he didn't care much about what they thought, as long as they did not bother him or those he cared about.

Did he even have anyone he cared about in this world? That question required time to answer, as he did not yet feel deeply attached to his current family.

Soon, Alexei was handed to his personal maid and paraded like some kind of saint before the crowd. He carefully memorized the names of the people introduced to him, knowing this knowledge would be useful in the future. He did not know much about these historical figures, only the names of certain organizations and revolutionaries. Who studied history seriously in high school, anyway? At that time, all he cared about were games.

He maintained a calm demeanor as he was paraded around, mostly staring and occasionally smiling when something caught his interest. But damn, these perfumes were assaulting his nostrils. He complained silently.

He also met his uncle, Grand Duke Michael Alexandrovich of Russia, who looked genuinely happy despite being pushed back to third in line for the throne after Alexei's birth.

It did not take long for Alexei to fall asleep as he was carried through the banquet hall alongside the Tsar and Tsarina. Eventually, his father ordered that Alexei be taken back to his room to rest and announced the start of the real banquet. This was met with cries of "Za zdorovye," and the festivities truly began, with alcohol and entertainers livening the atmosphere. The celebration lasted until evening, when the Tsar and Tsarina finally retired to their chambers.

Alexei did not know whether the banquet had truly been for him or merely an excuse for his parents to celebrate, judging by how long it lasted. Still, he did not care. At least peace returned after a week. He resumed cultivating with renewed determination, hoping to gain enough strength to crawl, or even stand as soon as possible. Lying helplessly and waiting for maids to pick him up felt suffocating.

Based on the speed at which he absorbed qi, Alexei estimated he would be two years old by the time he reached level one of body cultivation, a painfully slow pace by his standards, but unavoidable. Still, he was grateful to be ahead of others in this world in terms of strength. He estimated that reaching level two would take another three years after reaching level one, allowing him to possess the strength of an average adult while still in the body of a child.

And so, until he reached the age of five, that was what mostly Alexei did, cultivating.

 

[ImperatorXCV]

August 1900

Tsarina Alexandra was brushing her hair in front of her vanity table, dressed only in her nightgown. Lost in thought, she failed to notice someone entering the room. It wasn't until she caught a movement in the mirror that she realized she was no longer alone. Startled, she jumped with a small yelp and spun around, only to see her husband. Relieved, she placed a hand over her chest and glared at him.

"What were you doing sneaking up on me, husband?"

"You're mistaken, my love. I wasn't sneaking up on you," Tsar Nicholas II replied with a smile. "You were so deep in thought that you didn't even notice me opening the door." He gently guided her back to her chair before preparing for bed himself.

Once she finished brushing her hair to her satisfaction, the Tsarina lay down beside him. For a while, she remained silent, simply resting at his side.

Eventually, the Tsar could no longer endure the silence. Turning toward her, he asked, "So, what were you thinking about?"

"I'm just worried about Alexei," Alexandra murmured. "He's just… I don't know. So quiet. He didn't play much even when he was younger. I overheard the maids gossiping about him, saying he was sitting with each foot placed on the opposite thigh, his back perfectly straight, and his hands resting calmly on his knees. Do you think he does that because he's in pain or something? It's not normal for a boy his age to sit like that, is it? I'm afraid something might be wrong with him. You know Alexei, he doesn't speak unless someone asks him a direct question, and even then, he keeps it brief. It's like he's retreating into himself. I'm also worried this will spark gossip at court about our son's strange behavior."

Tsarina Alexandra could not shake the persistent knot of anxiety tightening in her chest whenever her thoughts drifted to her only son. Alexei was five years old now, yet he remained a quiet child. He rarely spoke unless prompted, and even when surrounded by other children at play, he preferred to keep to himself. Ever since his birth, she had proudly told noble ladies and friends how well-behaved he was, only crying when hungry or in need of changing. Now, she found herself wishing her son would behave more like other children, noisy and a little unruly.

When she gave birth to her eldest daughter, Olga, she experienced firsthand how difficult it was to care for a baby. At first, she was confused by how different the experience felt and assumed it was simply because Olga was a girl. However, after speaking with friends and noblewomen at court, she learned they all found parenting exhausting, especially without wet nurses. They assured her there was no real difference between boys and girls, both would crawl everywhere, touch everything, and constantly demand attention.

In contrast, her son behaved differently. When adults were present, he would sit quietly, holding a book instead of playing with the toys scattered around him.

By the time she gave birth to her third child, her suspicions were confirmed. This third child was unruly and often cried for things she could not have, so unlike her son, Alexei. Though Alexandra loved her son dearly, she could not shake the fear that something might be wrong with his health. She recalled their travels to Scotland, France, and Darmstadt, during which she had asked doctors to examine Alexei. All of them assured her he was healthy. Even her grandmother, Queen Victoria, had scolded her for being overly paranoid, praising Alexei for being quiet and well-behaved during their visits.

Still, as a mother, all she could do was hope and pray that her son was truly healthy, and that there was truly nothing wrong with him.

"Hello? Alexandra?" Nicholas II gently nudged his wife when he noticed she had drifted off after voicing her worries. He often had to comfort her whenever she fretted, even though doctors had repeatedly confirmed that their son was healthy. Still, she struggled to let go of her anxiety, especially since Alexei behaved differently from other children.

"Ah?" His wife was jolted from her thoughts, clearly embarrassed for zoning out right after her rant. Nicholas sighed and pulled her closer.

"Don't worry about our son anymore. He's fine," he said softly. "In fact, I was with him not long ago, and he answered every question I asked perfectly. I think our son is a genius. He loves books and tends to keep to himself. I've heard that's what geniuses do. I only hope he stops isolating himself someday, as he'll need friends when the time comes. And try not to show this side of yourself to him. It might hurt his feelings."

Alexandra struggled with her emotions for a moment, then finally nodded. Seeing this, Nicholas sighed in relief and was about to drift off to sleep when she spoke again.

"What about the rumors? The maids are already talking."

"Don't worry. I'll take care of it," he replied lightly. "Let's just say our son is using my secret method to become more handsome. Don't you think he already looks handsome, just like me? I'm a little worried he might surpass me someday. He's tall for his age, too. Tsk, tsk."

Alexandra smirked, and Nicholas returned the expression. "Anyway, are you feeling calmer now? Let's get some sleep."

She nodded at last. Nicholas shifted into a more comfortable position, only to hear her voice again.

"I can't sleep. I heard the army is moving into Manchuria."

It seemed sleep would elude him once more. Adjusting himself to face her, Nicholas began to speak, recounting the matter. He had never imagined ruling could be so difficult, from the chaos following his coronation to the growing social unrest that followed. The death of his brother, Grand Duke George Alexandrovich, had brought him immense grief and sorrow. Fortunately, his wife had been there for him, and the economy of his empire was thriving.

November, 1900

The night was unusually dark in the dirty, narrow slum streets of St. Petersburg. The barely visible moon in the sky could not penetrate the tightly packed houses with their jutting roof extensions. At best, the occasional candlelight seeping through cracks in doors and windows provided some illumination.

A boy wearing a hood and mask calmly navigated the alleys as he headed toward his destination. Along the way, he passed people of all kinds, but the most striking among them were the almost skeletal figures, so thin and frail that a mere touch seemed enough to break them.

After a few turns and cautious glances over his shoulder, he finally arrived at his destination: a small, weathered hut wedged between two slightly larger houses. Its door was barely visible in the dim alley, half-hidden by shadows and age. He knocked in a deliberate, coded rhythm. Moments later, a peephole slid open with a soft scrape, and a pair of eyes peered out. The sound of multiple locks clicking followed, and the door creaked inward. The boy slipped inside without a word and quickly shut the door behind him.

Alexei removed his hood but kept the mask on as he calmly scanned the room. The girl who had opened the door walked toward the frail boy lying on the bed. Alexei glanced to the corner and saw the twins standing up after noticing him. He said nothing, simply standing there. After a moment, he spoke.

"Let's begin."

He removed the sack from his back and gestured for the girl to take it. Inside were bread, apples, and a few leftovers taken from the kitchens of the Winter Palace. The twins, Sergey and Ivan, began setting up the table with papers, dip pens, fountain pens, and books. Alexei sat beside the table and examined the papers. The writing consisted of crooked letters barely forming words, along with misspellings that made them difficult to read. He said nothing, simply picked up a book and handed it to the girl, who returned after storing the food and bringing back her youngest brother, Petrov.

"Anna, begin reading from chapter three."

With that, Alexei began multitasking, listening to Anna's reading while correcting her pronunciation and teaching the twins and Petrov proper writing techniques.

After two hours of reading and writing, he began teaching them self-defense. He did not dare teach anything extreme; the children were still developing. Instead, he focused on basic defensive movements, what to do if they could not outrun their attackers. One hour later, he ended the training and told them to clean themselves and sleep. He gestured for Anna to follow him. After walking to a corner, he sat down and motioned for her to do the same.

"Any news?"

What Alexei needed most was information, not the exaggerated, censored news printed in newspapers, but the kind dismissed by high society. News shared by beggars, pickpockets, drunkards, washerwomen, and stable boys. Not headlines, but fragments that, when pieced together, revealed far more.

Anna, already skilled at gathering such seemingly insignificant details, began her report. "Mother Terisiva next door got injured while….."

Alexei listened without interrupting. When she finished, he stood up and said, "Thank you. I'm leaving."

He was about to reach the door when Anna spoke, the tone of her voice this time was slightly higher.

"Wait. I forgot one last thing."

He gestured for her to continue.

"Someone was handing out pamphlets south of the slums a while ago. I tried to get one, but they were already gone by the time I arrived."

He remained silent for a few seconds before replying, "Get one next time, and find out who they are without asking obvious questions. I believe you're already good at this. You're doing well, Anna."

He patted her shoulder and left. Alexei did not see the small smile spreading across Anna's face.

As he walked home, Alexei wondered what had possessed him to take these four brats under his wing. It had started three months ago, after he reached level two of body cultivation and decided to explore the city at night. Wearing a hood and mask, he slipped past the guards and expertly maneuvered over the palace walls. From there, he walked through the city center, observing notable streets and landmarks. After covering much of the area, he realized it was still early and decided to visit the slums.

There, he saw people toiling through the night for scraps, whores calling out for customers, children scouting for pickpocket targets, gangs harassing the weak, and elderly people lying beside the streets, waiting to die. The sight did not shock him. He had seen worse in the cultivation world.

Moving through the alleys, he eventually reached a damp area where children loitered, searching for anything they could exchange for coins. They were careful not to intrude on each other's territory, but a larger group caught his attention, ganging up on four children. When the attackers left, the four helped each other stand. They were clearly siblings. They brushed off their clothes and checked each other's wounds. One was still crying, and the eldest girl hugged him while the other two held back their tears. Eventually, they sat down, clutching their stomachs, obviously starving.

Their vulnerability reminded Alexei of his early days in the cultivation world, when his defenselessness made him an easy target for bullying and humiliation. Weakness had no place there. That was why he had clung so desperately to the man who helped him in his darkest moment, only to be used and betrayed without hesitation.

Alexei chuckled bitterly to himself and decided it would be them. He had been thinking of finding his own subordinates outside of the palace, he just didn't expect to work on it so soon. He would've preferred grown men and literate, but they'll do. He just had to teach them letters and basic arithmetic. Their current situation made them easy to manipulate, especially for those who recognized the opportunity and were unburdened by conscience.

He was sure of one thing, though. He would not become the man, whom he hated the most.

Alexei snapped back to the present as he turned into a narrow alley and spotted a group of rough-looking figures lurking in the shadows. Sharp eyes. Tense posture. The kind that invited trouble. Fortunately, they did not notice him. Without hesitation, he slipped away. As capable as he was for his age, he was still just a child.

Once clear of the slums, he headed straight for the palace.

"It's time to go home."

After returning to his room, Alexei cleaned himself thoroughly. As he dried off, he examined the bruises left from training. His body bruised easily, even from light impacts. When he had cut his finger two and a half years ago, the bleeding had continued far longer than normal.

Thankfully, he was alone, or the maids would freak out and report it to his parents. He didn't like being watched all the time because he needed to cultivate. It would hinder his progress.

He channeled qi into the bruises, and after a few minutes, they faded. He thought about what would become of him if he can't cultivate in this world. This disease will be the death of him. And he might not reach old age, again. Fortunately, he was sure that by the time he was ten years old. This disease would be fully healed.

While he lay down in his bed. He muses about his circumstances. He was sure that this Alexei was the youngest of the children of the last emperor of Russia. He knew at least that much. But now he is the eldest. His sisters, born after him, still followed their original names from his first life. It brought him mixed feelings, he didn't know how to react to them, but he will still do as expected of him as an elder brother, to protect them.

He remembered the way his mother looked at him with concern. She would always ask if he felt discomfort anywhere, as if she had a modern monitor that could alert her whenever his illness might act up.

But he had never let her find out the truth. He would never reveal his bruises and wounds.

He had seen it happen to others, the way the sick were no longer treated as people but as fragile objects to be protected, monitored, and pitied. He couldn't stand it. To her, it would be love and care, but to him, it felt like a cage. He didn't blame her, though, she was his mother.

Nonetheless, he wouldn't give her any reason to confine him. He loves his freedom so much that he won't let anyone take it from him, even his family. And what's worse, to have a tsarevich who is sickly spread throughout the empire, that would be a disaster.

His father, well, from what he observed, is a family oriented man. In terms of ruling though? Indecisive, passive and naive. What could he expect from a man who brought his empire down and had his own family killed? Nothing.

Nevertheless, he was still his father. Judging him felt almost cruel. Maybe it was never truly his fault, but the consequences were real, he can see it from his nightly experience outside the palace. And now, here he was, trying to piece together how it all happened… and if all of this could ever be made right.

He would not focus on saving the empire, though. If it could be saved, good. But if not, he would prioritize himself and his family first.

When he asked himself in the past if he had someone he cared about in this world. Apparently, he had now. The power of family bonds really runs deep whoever or wherever you are. He just hoped it wouldn't ruin him.

If he dies young as well in this new life. He would give himself an epithet, "The man age could never claim, but circumstances always could." If he ever lived again, that is.

He fell asleep soon after.

The next morning….

The maid moved quietly through the palace halls, her steps muffled by thick carpets. Beside her, a small girl walked excitedly, clutching a stuffed toy to her chest, her gaze fixed on the door at the end of the corridor.

When they arrived, the maid knocked softly. "Your Highness, I'm coming in."

Before she could enter, the little girl darted past her and ran inside. The maid sighed and followed.

The girl climbed onto the bed and crawled toward the sleeping boy, gently tapping his cheek.

"Browther, wakey browther."

The maid drew back the curtains, letting light spill in. Alexei, who pretended to be asleep, had no choice but to open his eyes. He smiled and ruffled the girl's hair.

"What is Olga doing here, Anya?" he asked.

"She insisted on coming," Anya replied. "Her Imperial Majesty requests your presence at breakfast."

"Alright."

He handed Olga some toys and went to wash.

Minutes later, he came back refreshed, dressed in his most comfortable clothes, free of the elaborated styles and stiff fabrics that marked his station. The weight of formality doesn't appeal to him. As long as it's not a formal occasion, he would wear his comfortable clothes, ordered and requested from the royal seamstress.

"Come, Olga." He reached out his hand to his little sister, which she happily took. They then left the room and made their way to the dining hall, followed by Anya.

Dining hall…

His mother narrowed her eyes the moment she saw what her son was wearing as he entered the hall. Alexei paid it no mind and greeted them with ease.

"Good morning, Father. Good morning, Mother."

He guided her sister, Olga to her seat, then walked over to his one-year-old sister, Tatiana, and gently pinched her cheek. She reached out her arms, clearly wanting to be carried, but he acted as if he didn't see it and continued on to his assigned seat, settling in quietly to wait for breakfast.

His father, seeing that everyone had arrived, said, "Let's pray." He led the prayer himself.

Alexei bowed his head as well, joining in silently. But to whom he was praying? He wasn't sure himself. Still, he offered a quiet prayer of gratitude, to whatever force is responsible for his repeated reincarnation.

After his father finished the prayer, they began to eat. Alexei took a small portion of everything on the table. He had a big appetite, but he never ate much in front of his family. Instead, he would usually slip into the kitchen after a formal breakfast or dinner to ask for another meal from the chef. By this point, the chef was already well acquainted with Alexei.

He was enjoying his breakfast when his father spoke.

"Last time, on your birthday, you asked to join the hunting retreat in the Bialowieza Forest this spring. Your mother agreed, but you won't be firing any guns. Is that acceptable to you?"

Alexei offered a rare smile and replied, "Yes, Father."

Then he turned toward his mother. "Thank you, Mother."

His mother, Alexandra, unaccustomed to seeing her son smile, felt a quiet joy rise within her. She silently praised herself for making such a wise decision. Smiling, she said, "As long as you're happy, my son. But you must listen to the people that we will assign to you during the hunt. And you.."

She looked pointedly at her husband, "don't let yourself be swayed if Alexei tries to charm you into letting him fire a rifle. I know you, one pleading look from him and you'll give in."

His mother took a sip of her tea and continued, "Look at your son. You let him choose and request his own clothes from the royal seamstress, and now look what's happened, he hardly wears anything proper anymore. He's only five years old, and you're already spoiling him far too much."

Nicholas was momentarily speechless, quietly wondering how the conversation had shifted so quickly from their son to himself. Still, he smiled and replied, "Of course, a rifle is too dangerous. I won't let him fire it, even if he cries."

Not that he would, Nicholas mused. His son hadn't cried since he was two.

"Good," his mother said, satisfied, and resumed eating.

After that brief exchange, they continued their meal in silence. Once they had finished, each quietly sipped their preferred refreshments, until his mother suddenly spoke again.

"Alexei, I'm hosting a party in the palace garden this afternoon, and you will be joining me. The other ladies will be bringing their children as well, and I expect you to play with them. Is that understood?"

She placed particular emphasis on the last part, clearly leaving no room for refusal.

It seemed his mother was preparing to introduce Alexei to the court, positioning him, perhaps, as part of her growing influence. He let out a quiet sigh, then replied, "Yes, Mother."

"Why are you sighing? You act far too much like an adult already, Alexei, and clearly, you are not," his mother chided. "You need to have friends. They'll be important to you in the future, especially if they are loyal."

Before he could respond with his agreement, she continued, "Oh, Your father and I found tutors and attendants for you. Since you love books so much, you might as well begin your lessons. As for your attendants, they'll accompany you on your daily activities and protection. I'll introduce you to them after the party this afternoon."

His mother simply wouldn't stop talking. But deep down, Alexei was secretly pleased. He was eager to start learning, and this would give him a reason to explain why he could eventually read so fluently. Until now, he had only been pretending to look at the pages of the book. As for his attendants. He just hopes they won't be so nosy in the future.

"Thank you mother." He replied.

His mother was about to speak again when a knock sounded at the door. Boris, his father's personal aide, entered.

"I apologize for interrupting your breakfast, Your Imperial Majesties," he said with a bow, then walked over to his father and whispered something in his ear.

When Boris finished, his father grew momentarily thoughtful, then rose from his seat.

"I'm sorry, my dear," he said, addressing his wife. "It seems I have to attend to some matters of the state."

He offered her an apologetic smile, then leaned down to kiss her forehead. "I'll see you this evening."

One by one, he kissed each of his children on the forehead, Alexei included, before making his way toward the door and quietly left the room.

After his father was gone, his mother rose from her seat and turned to the maids. "We're finished here. Please take the children to the nursery. And Anya, make sure Alexei is properly prepared for the party this afternoon."

With that, she bent to kiss each of the children as well, lingering a bit longer with Tatiana, who was reaching out to be carried. She had no choice but to comfort the baby for a while before finally leaving the room to prepare for the party.

Alexei felt a quiet sense of relief once his parents had gone about their own affairs. He was never quite comfortable being the center of attention during conversation. He followed his sisters to the nursery and played with them for a while before turning toward Anya.

"I'm tired. I want to sleep."

Anya gently guided him to his room. Once she was gone, he waited for a moment to be sure that he was alone, then sat cross-legged in a lotus position and began to cultivate. He still had a few hours before lunch, and the afternoon party.

 

[ImperatorXCV]

Alexei made his way toward the palace garden, dressed in semi-formal attire for the occasion. Even so, the clothes felt stiff and uncomfortable against his skin. He would have much preferred his usual, comfortable outfits, if only his mother would allow it.

No matter, he thought. As long as I can find an excuse to leave early.

It didn't take long for him to arrive. Guided by Anya, he went straight to his mother, who was surrounded by noble ladies engaged in light conversation and polite gossip.

"Good afternoon, Mother," he said, offering a respectful nod. After a brief pause, he turned to the assembled ladies and added, "Good afternoon, ladies."

Then he looked back to his mother, not bothering to respond to their smiles or polite return greetings.

She gave him a brief, scrutinizing glance, her eyes narrowing slightly as she inspected his attire for any imperfections. Once satisfied, she gave a subtle nod and began introducing him to the ladies gathered around her. Alexei quietly committed every one of them to memory, especially the Montenegrin princesses. They were quite popular at court, or so he had heard from the maids' whispers.

After the introductions, his mother instructed Alexei to join the other children on the garden lawn. The area had clearly been prepared for the occasion, with entertainers performing nearby and a wide assortment of toys scattered across the grass for the children's amusement.

He made his way to a quiet corner and observed the activities around him. Some children were playing Gorodki, while others were engaged in card games. The entertainers performed magic tricks to the delight of the crowd. A few children, too proud of their aristocratic upbringing, chose instead to draw or practice their letters.

Meanwhile, as Alexei stood watching the entertainers from his quiet corner of the garden, four children, Sergei, Elena, Marina, and Roman, huddled together behind a neatly trimmed hedge, whispering nervously.

Marina spoke anxiously. "We've been standing here for ages. Someone has to go first."

Sergei, the eldest among them, replied, "You do it, Marina. You're always talking."

Marina nearly shouted, "Not to a Tsarevich!"

After a moment of thought, Elena suggested, "Maybe we should all go together?"

"Fine," Sergei said with a sigh. "We'll go together. I'll do the talking."

Roman, clearly too young to follow everything, simply listened quietly to his sister Marina and their cousins.

They all nodded in agreement, formed a shaky line, and slowly made their way toward Alexei.

Alexei had already noticed them from the corner of his eye but remained still, pretending to be focused on a juggler tossing wooden pins into the air.

As the group approached, Sergei stepped forward and gave a slight bow.

"Hello, Your Highness," he said.

Alexei turned to look at them, his expression unreadable. He let the silence stretch, and the children shifted nervously under his gaze.

After a brief pause, Alexei finally replied, "Hi."

The awkward silence returned, until Elena stepped forward with a sudden burst of courage.

"Would you like to play with us? We're about to start a game of Durak," she said brightly.

Alexei glanced across the lawn toward his mother, who was watching him intently. Beside her, the Montenegrin princesses smiled encouragingly.

Ah, he thought. These must be their children.

"All right," Alexei agreed. He might as well play with them than receive an earful from his mother later.

The children broke into relieved smiles, exchanging quick glances of triumph, proud to have completed their small diplomatic mission.

They made their way to another corner of the garden, where a table and a deck of cards were already set up. After taking their seats, they began introducing themselves properly, Alexei included.

But there was one problem.

"I don't know how to play," Alexei admitted to his newfound playmates. He had never played the game before, this was, after all, his first real interaction with other children, aside from his sisters.

"Don't worry, we'll teach you," Sergei said encouragingly.

Elena and Marina chimed in as well, assuring him that it was very easy.

Roman, meanwhile, remained quiet, watching from his seat with a shy expression.
This was the first time Alexei interacted with other noble children. In the past, he would simply sit quietly, absorbed in a book, ignoring everyone around him. Even on his birthdays, he would do the same. Now that he thought about it, isolating himself might have drawn even more attention. People at court might call him strange or use other unkind words to describe him. Gossip and whispers would inevitably follow.

But there was nothing he could do about that. It was simply who he was. He couldn't force himself to enjoy things he didn't want to do.

Still, it seemed he needed to endure what he disliked, at least just this once.

He looked at the children around him and thought, They'll do. He might as well befriend them, at least on the surface. They would make a good cover. Besides, it was obvious they had been encouraged, if not outright instructed, to approach him as well. He might as well use that to his advantage.

And who knew? Perhaps they could even become real friends.

With that decided, he began interacting with them more, asking questions about the game and about the other children present. Before long, they forgot the "mission" their parents had given them and simply started playing, as children naturally did.

It didn't take long for them to grow bored and switch to another game. Alexei followed along, and when he admitted once again that he didn't know how to play, they patiently taught him. Soon enough, they were all laughing and enjoying themselves, completely losing track of time.

Not Alexei, of course.

While he did enjoy the games, he remained aware of his surroundings. He noticed his mother watching from a distance, her expression clearly pleased as she glanced in their direction. The Montenegrin princesses also seemed delighted that their children had befriended him, while several other noble ladies looked faintly regretful, no doubt wishing they had urged their own children to do the same.

"It looks like I made the right decision," he mused.

When he felt that he had played enough with his new friends, Alexei excused himself, telling them that he needed to return to his mother. They were reluctant to see him go at first, but eventually agreed.

He had only just started walking back when his sister came running toward him, clearly delighted to see her favorite, and only brother. He embraced her briefly before gently leading her back to their mother.

"Mother, I'm hungry," he said, rubbing his stomach to emphasize his complaint.

"Oh my, come along, my son. There's plenty of food here," his mother replied, guiding him toward the table and instructing Anya to attend to him.

As he sat waiting for Anya to bring his food, several noble ladies attempted to strike up conversations with him. He responded with polite smiles and the occasional childish laugh, imitating the behavior expected of a boy his age.

It didn't take long for the food to arrive, and he began eating. As he did, he listened carefully to the surrounding conversation, secretly, of course.

After finishing his meal, he waited a moment before standing and walking back to his mother. Leaning close to her ear, he whispered softly, "I've soiled myself, Mother."

His mother startled for an instant, then quickly recovered and called for Anya to take Alexei back to his room and see that he was cleaned up..

And just like that, he was finally free.

Once in the room, he insisted on cleaning up by himself, much to Anya's amusement. Not that it was the first time. Still, she waited patiently outside the washroom for him to finish.

When he emerged, now dressed in more comfortable clothes, he said, "Anya, I'm tired. I don't want to go back."

"Your Highness, your mother will be angry if you don't return to the party," she replied, clearly worried. She didn't want to be scolded either, bringing Alexei back to the party was her responsibility.

"Tell Mother that I'm going to sleep for a while to rest. I'm sure it'll be fine." Alexei had no desire to return; there were simply too many people.

"But, Your Highness, you just took a nap this morning," Anya protested.

She just doesn't get it, does she? Alexei thought for a moment.

"Then tell Mother I might've eaten something bad. Say my stomach is acting up again, and I don't want to risk embarrassing myself in front of everyone. She'll understand."

Anya hesitated, but eventually nodded. "All right. But you must stay in your room until I return."

"Don't worry, Anya. I'm just going to take another nap," Alexei assured her.

She studied him for a moment, then sighed and quietly left the room.

Finally, he had a moment to himself. Oh, right… I still have to meet with my tutors and attendants after the party, he thought with a sigh, before lying down to rest.

—----

It didn't take long before the time came for him to meet his new tutors and attendants. He made his way to where they were gathered and found his mother there, clearly displeased that he hadn't returned to the party, though she kept her frustration to herself.

He glanced around the room at the assembled group. He didn't recognize all of them, so he waited patiently for his mother to make the introductions.

After taking a moment to compose herself, his mother stood up and began.

"Alexei, these are the gentlemen who will be part of your attendants from this day forward. They are here to guide you, serve you, and ensure your well-being."

She gestured to a tall, broad-shouldered man in a naval uniform, his bearing still that of a disciplined sailor. "This is Klimenty Grigorievich Nagorny. He will be your personal guard and will accompany you wherever necessary."

Nagorny bowed respectfully, his expression solemn. Alexei simply nodded in return.

Next, she motioned to a middle-aged man with sharp features and observant eyes.

"This is Ivan Dmitrievich Sednev. He will serve as your personal attendant, alongside Anya."

Sednev offered a polite smile and a short bow. Alexei nodded again.

"Now, to your tutors."

She gestured to a serious-looking man in spectacles, his suit crisp and his hands clasped behind his back. "This is Mr. Breshko-Breshkovsky. He will be your mathematics tutor. I trust you'll give him your full attention."

Mr. Breshko-Breshkovsky gave a curt nod. "I look forward to working with you, Your Highness."

"And this," she continued, motioning to a slightly older gentleman with thoughtful eyes and a scholarly air, "is Pyotr Vasilievich Petrov, who will be teaching you Russian language and literature."

Petrov smiled gently. "It will be a privilege to teach you, Your Imperial Highness."

Alexei inclined his head slightly, maintaining a composed posture. Despite the formal introductions, he studied each man carefully, already considering how best to deal with them, work with them, or avoid them if necessary. One thing was certain, life would no longer be as quiet as it had been.

"Thank you, Mother," Alexei said softly.

"Now go on. I still have matters to attend to. Your lessons will begin tomorrow," she replied, already making her way toward the door. She had likely given them their instructions beforehand.

Once she was out of sight, Alexei turned to face his new companions and gave a polite nod.

"Hello, everyone. I'm Alexei. Please take care of me."

They smiled at that, grateful to have a polite Tsarevich to attend to.

—--

Days passed, and winter arrived. Life became slow and monotonous. Alexei spent his mornings and afternoons with his tutors, following a rigid routine. Wherever he went, Nagorny and Sednev accompanied him. Thankfully, they did not keep watch over him while he slept, as that would have hindered his nightly escapades into the city.

Alexei now went out only once a week due to the winter. During those trips, he checked on their progress and brought food. He worried that their small hut might be ransacked, especially with so many in the slums desperate for shelter to survive the cold.

That was why, during his last visit, he had instructed them to run and hide if anything happened, and to wait for his return to deal with any intruders.

He didn't mind getting rid of a few pests, if it came to that.

It felt like a lifetime ago since he had last killed someone. Back then, taking a life had become second nature, an instinct honed not out of cruelty, but survival. He had lived in a world where hesitation meant death, where trust was a luxury he couldn't afford, and mercy was often a fatal mistake. Each kill had carved something out of him, piece by piece, until there was little left but purpose and caution.

Now, in the stillness of palace life, those memories felt like distant echoes, unreal and weightless. Yet the instinct remained. He didn't regret what he had done. Regret was a privilege for men who hadn't been forced to fight for every breath in their life.

—----

February 1901

Anna was cleaning their hut. She knew that their benefactor, or whoever he truly was, could arrive at any moment to check on their progress once more. She wanted to present their modest home as clean and orderly as possible, no matter how weathered or worn it looked.

The past few months still felt like a dream. Simply having food to eat each day was something she had never thought she would experience again. The gnawing hunger that once haunted her and her siblings had been replaced by warm meals and the fragile comfort of knowing they were safe, if only for now.

She didn't know why he helped them. Her thoughts drifted back to the time they first met. Back then, they hadn't known what to do at all. Their parents had just died, and they had no aunts or uncles to turn to for help. It felt as though her life had ended right there. She had three younger siblings to feed, and after their parents passed, they had only managed to gather enough food to last about fifteen days. It didn't take long for that to run out.

She led her siblings to the waste dump, where they scavenged for anything that could be traded for a few coins, rags, bones, glass, and bits of metal. They managed to survive for a month by selling scraps. For a brief moment, they thought they could keep going like that, that maybe things were getting better.

But trouble came quickly. A group of older boys warned them to stop scavenging in the area, claiming it as their territory. She refused. She knew how important that work was for her siblings' survival. So they returned anyway. That was when they were spotted, and it was the first time they were beaten.

Still, they endured. They tried other ways to earn money for food, but no one would hire them. They begged on the streets, but no one gave them anything. They were starving. She didn't know what else to do.

Desperate, they went back to the dump once more, hoping to find enough scraps to get through another day. This time, they were caught again, and the beating was worse.

At that moment, she thought it might be better to die.

And then, he appeared.

He walked towards them.

He asked if they wanted food, just after they had been beaten. He stood in front of them as if he weren't a child like them. From his height, she guessed he was at least eight years old. Yet he carried himself like something far taller, as though they would be safe if they clung to him.

She hesitated at first. But her siblings said yes right away, as if it wasn't strange for someone to offer help without asking for anything in return. What made it even more unsettling was that he wore a mask that completely hid his face.

But hunger won out.

So they accepted.

She asked him what he wanted in return, but he simply said that he needed people, and that they would be it.

At first, she remained cautious, keeping her siblings at a distance from him. Only she interacted with him directly. If he turned out to be dangerous, she was prepared to sacrifice herself to protect them.

But the food kept coming. Day after day, more than they had ever dared to hope for. Slowly, her suspicion gave way to gratitude.

Then he began teaching them letters and numbers, something they had never even dreamed of learning. When she asked why he was teaching them, he answered bluntly, "You'd be useless if you don't know how to read and write."

She wanted to get angry. The word useless stung. But the life he had given them weighed more heavily than the insult, so she said nothing.

He didn't stop at letters and numbers. He also taught them how to defend themselves. But he always emphasized one thing, If you can run, then run.

She didn't understand why he was teaching them that, but she figured that having more skills was better than having none.

What puzzled her most was how someone who looked like a child could know so much. She wanted to ask, but ultimately decided against it. They were already receiving so much from him, and prying into his secrets might only anger their strange benefactor.

It didn't take long before he asked something of them in return. He wanted them to listen to the gossip and news circulating around the slums. It wasn't much, but it was something. Finally, they could do something for him. So she and her siblings began paying attention to every scrap of chatter, whether small or insignificant, and reported everything to him whenever he visited.

He also taught them how to listen carefully, and how to ask questions that didn't sound intrusive but, if answered, could lead them closer to the information he wanted.

Yet again, another skill their benefactor possessed. She couldn't help but wonder how he knew so much. Maybe he's a witch, she thought, but quickly dismissed the idea. Judging by how much he had helped them, she believed he was a good person.

She was pulled from her thoughts by a sudden knock on the door.

"I'll take it!" Petrov, her younger brother, called out excitedly as he rushed toward the door before she could even respond. He didn't even check the peephole, unlocking the door immediately.

"Petrov, wait!" she called, her voice sharp with alarm, but it was already too late.

The door burst open with a loud crash. A heavy boot kicked it wide, sending the boy flying backward with a sickening thud. He slammed into the floor and cried out in pain, clutching his side.

"Petrov!" she screamed, her heart slamming in her chest as two unfamiliar men stepped over the threshold.

They were both middle-aged and scruffy, reeking of alcohol and smoke. The one in front had a crooked nose and sunken cheeks, while the other, a broader man, carried a rusted bat slung over his shoulder. Their eyes swept over the small room like predators sizing up helpless prey.

"Oh, only kids? We're lucky," the man in front sneered. "This'll be easy."

"Hey, brats," the one with the bat barked, waving the weapon in a wide arc. "This place belongs to us now. Get out, or we'll throw you out."

She barely heard him. All she could see was Petrov curled on the floor, crying softly, one arm trembling as he tried to push himself up.

Without thinking, she darted past the intruders and knelt beside her brother. "It's okay. I'm here," she whispered, quickly checking him for injuries. He was hurt, but not badly.

Her defiance caught the attention of the man with the bat.

"Oh? So you're not scared?" he jeered. "Looks like I'll have to make an example of you."

He raised the bat, his eyes flashing with cruel delight.

"Leave her alone!" came a cry, and in a blur, her twin brothers hurled themselves at him. They grabbed for the bat, trying to wrench it from his grip.

They were no match for a grown man. With one powerful motion, he tore the bat free and drove his fist into the stomach of one twin, then slammed another into the face of the other. The boys crumpled to the floor, gasping and dazed.

"Haha! What courageous little rats," the man laughed. "Let's have some fun with them, Orlov."

The other man grinned and kicked one of the boys in the ribs. "Haven't had a good beating in days. This'll be fun."

"No, stop! Please!" she shouted, stepping in front of her brothers. Her voice cracked with desperation, tears brimming in her eyes.

But they didn't care.

The man with the bat raised it again, this time aiming for her. She braced herself, her mind racing with a single thought.

This is it. We're going to die here.

There was no way out. The door was blocked, the windows too small to escape through. She had no weapon, no strength to fight back. All she could do was shield her siblings with her body and hope the pain wouldn't last long.

Then everything changed.

A shadow fell across the doorway.

The first man suddenly stiffened. His mouth fell open, eyes wide with confusion as his hand flew to the back of his neck. A knife protruded from the base of his skull.

Before he could fall, Orlov turned in shock, but another blade buried itself cleanly in his neck. He stumbled forward, collapsed beside his friend, and didn't move again.

Blood pooled beneath their bodies, spreading across the old wooden floor.

She gasped, frozen in place, and looked toward the doorway.

There he was.

Their benefactor.

He stood calmly, as if the violence he had just committed were nothing more than a routine. The fading light from outside glinted off the edges of his throwing knives as he stepped inside. His face was hidden behind the mask, but the fury in his eyes was unmistakable.

No words were spoken.

She stared at him, overwhelmed by shock, by relief, by horror. Her siblings whimpered behind her, and she heard Petrov trying to sit up, crying softly.

Alexei approached, retrieved his knives from the intruders, and wiped the blood from the blades with a piece of cloth before slipping them back into his coat. Then he knelt beside the injured boys. He didn't speak, only checked their pulses with quick, methodical movements. His hands were precise, practiced, and surprisingly gentle.

"Your brothers are okay," he said at last, his voice low and even.

She blinked rapidly, tears finally spilling down her cheeks. She couldn't move. She couldn't speak.

He looked at her. "I told you to keep the door locked."

"I… I'm sorry," she whispered, barely audible.

He didn't scold her. He stood, glanced at the bodies, then turned toward the door. "I'll take care of this. Stay inside and watch over them."

She watched in silence as he dragged one body out, then returned a few minutes later for the other.

In her daze, she had forgotten that her brothers were still injured. A soft whimper snapped her back to reality. Guilt washed over her as she rushed to tend to them, silently scolding herself.

Alexei returned after an hour. She said nothing, continuing to scrub the blood from the floor before it could stain the wood.

"I dumped them in an abandoned warehouse nearby," he said, sitting on one of the stools. "We're lucky. Either your neighbors didn't hear anything, or they didn't care. Doesn't matter. You're safe for now. Just make sure you clean the blood thoroughly. If anyone checks, no one will suspect you."

He paused, scanning the room.

"So, how are your brothers?"

"They're okay," she replied quietly. "They fell asleep after I cleaned their wounds."

"Why didn't you run?" he asked.

"We couldn't. They blocked the door, and everything happened too fast. I couldn't stop Petrov from opening it," she said, scrubbing harder. "I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault," he said after a moment. Whether he meant it or was simply easing her guilt, she couldn't tell.

Then his tone hardened. "You need to move this spring. I'll handle the money. Find a place bigger than this, one that can be secured tightly from the inside. That's the minimum."

Anna opened her mouth to protest, to tell him he didn't need to go this far, but nothing came out. The words died in her throat. Deep down, she knew the truth, they had no choice but to rely on him now. The guilt weighed heavy on her chest, and after everything she had witnessed tonight, she felt too numb to push back. All she could do was follow his lead.

She glanced at her sleeping brothers. Please, she thought, let them be okay after seeing those bodies.

"…Okay," she murmured.

He nodded slightly. A faint smile tugged at the corners of his mouth beneath the mask.

"You adapted quickly, Anna," he said. "You didn't panic. You didn't even throw up."

She managed a tired smile, unsure whether it was praise or something else, but she appreciated it more than she expected.

He turned toward the door, inspecting the broken frame. "Once you're done cleaning, get some rest. I'll fix this."

"Mmm," she replied softly, grateful he was staying a little longer.

While she scrubbed the last stains away, he repaired the door and locks with quiet efficiency.

When he finished, he brushed dust from his sleeves. "I'll be gone for over a month this spring. When I return, we'll buy the house, assuming you find one that meets the requirements."

"I'll look around," she said, stifling a yawn.

He studied her briefly, then stepped back. "Looks like there won't be any lessons tonight. Goodbye then."

The door closed behind him, and he disappeared into the night.

Anna stood there for a moment before moving quietly through the dim room, careful not to wake her brothers. Her body ached, not just from exhaustion, but from the weight of everything that had happened.

When she finally lay down on her thin mattress, the room was still. She listened to the soft breathing of her siblings and stared at the ceiling.

"Please," she prayed silently. "Just let everything be better tomorrow."

With that final thought, she closed her eyes and fell asleep.

 

[TrahKartolo]

Damn, a prince and a pauper. Makes for a good romance? Or maybe tragedy. That fits the grim tone of Alexei, I think.
Would he teach Anna and her brothers some secret of cultivation? Or leave her as normal, if highly talented, spy-adjutant? Only time will tell.
Anyway, would Alexei do something about those SRs infesting the Russian country-side?
No matter what he do, he couldn't move forward without removing these hidden danger first. They'll just be patsies for outside powers, just like how Lenin was a collaborator for Germany.

 

[ImperatorXCV]

March 1901

Alexei pondered the events that had taken place in the slums just weeks ago. With the discovery of the bodies, the authorities began questioning anyone who might be connected to the murder, Anna and her brothers included. Fortunately, being children, they were quickly ruled out as possible suspects.

Still, the incident had shaken him. He needed to increase their security soon. They were his investments, and he would not allow anything to happen to them.

Maybe I should recruit another batch of children? The thought made him grimace. It was starting to feel as though he were running an orphanage, and he didn't like that one bit. Anna's brothers were already more than enough to manage.

He shelved the idea for now. What he needed most at the moment was money. He had promised Anna that he would buy them a house and assured her that he would handle the cost. Only now did he realize that he hadn't actually figured out how to obtain the money.

He couldn't simply ask his parents, not without raising suspicion. They already found his knowledge unsettling. Requesting a large sum of money would only deepen their concerns. How could he possibly explain what it was for?

Maybe I should just steal it from them instead of asking? He considered the idea seriously. Bold, but not impossible.

Another thought followed. What if he robbed the criminals in the city instead? Play Robin Hood, but keep the money for himself. It wasn't a bad idea. The city was full of corrupt, wealthy men whose losses would hardly be noticed.

Whatever path he chose, he would decide after returning from the hunting trip this spring.

Alexei let out a quiet sigh and headed to the washroom to clean up. He still had appointments with his "new friends" later in the day. His mother had been overjoyed when he made friends during her party, despite his disappearance after the "soiled pants" excuse. So much so, in fact, that she had convinced her friends at court to spend the late winter season at the palace with their children.

There wasn't much he could do about it now.

Best to get ready.

—----

After lunch

Alexei walked toward the room beside the nursery, where his supposed playmates were already gathered and playing. The moment his attendant, Sednev, opened the door, he was greeted by the sight of children running about.

Of course, he thought. With their parents not present today, they're behaving like normal children.

He sighed inwardly, already wondering what he would do with them, or whether he could find an excuse to leave early if they turned out to be especially annoying. He also noticed a few unfamiliar faces among the group.

Looks like the other nobles at court aren't letting this opportunity pass them by, he mused.

Marina, the most talkative among his so-called friends, spotted him and immediately dashed over.

"Your Imperial Highness, you're here! We've been waiting for you. We thought you weren't going to join us again today," she said with a pout.

Before he could respond, Sergei, the eldest of the children present, came running up.

"Your Imperial Highness, you're finally here! Come on, let's play Durak again." Sergei laughed, already looking smug. He clearly remembered how many times he had beaten the others and was enjoying the memory far too much.

"Alright," Alexei replied.

In no time, the rest of the children gathered around him. Elena and Roman moved closer, subtly positioning themselves beside him. Alexei didn't mind and let them be. He led them to the table, where the cards were already prepared, and they began to play.

As they gathered the cards after the first round, Elena glanced toward a group of children watching from a distance. After a brief pause, she turned back to Alexei.

"Do you want me to introduce them?"

"Who?" Alexei asked without looking up, neatly stacking the cards.

"Our friends," she said, gesturing behind her. "We brought them with us today. Their parents are also staying in the palace."

Before Alexei could respond, Marina was already waving them over. "Come on, don't just hover there like ghosts!"

The tallest of the group stepped forward—a boy with neatly combed blond hair and an arrogant tilt to his chin. He stopped a few feet away, crossed his arms, and stared at Alexei as if sizing up a rival.

"This is Vladimir," Elena whispered. "He's… well… he can be difficult."

"I heard that," Vladimir muttered sharply. "I'm not difficult. I just don't grovel."

"Obviously," Marina replied with a laugh, clearly unfazed.

The second boy, Lev, had a much more relaxed air. Freckles dotted his nose, and a shy smile played on his lips as he stepped forward.

"Your Imperial Highness," Lev said with a small bow. "It's an honor to meet you."

Alexei offered a polite nod. "Thank you."

"And this," Marina continued, "is Irina. She's great at embroidery and chess. You'll like her."

Irina, a tall girl with neatly braided dark hair draped over one shoulder, gave an elegant curtsy. "It's nice to meet you, Your Highness."

Alexei studied them one by one. Lev seemed eager to please. Irina appeared calm and composed. And Vladimir, well, Vladimir looked like he'd rather be anywhere else.

"Everyone," Alexei began, tapping his fingers lightly against the table. The small sound somehow drew their attention and quieted the group. "Since it looks like we'll be playmates from now on, there's no need to call me 'Your Imperial Highness' when no one else is around. It's too long. You can just call me Alexei. Just remember to use my title when adults are nearby, so you don't get scolded. Alright?"

"Yes, of course!" Sergei replied immediately, eyes wide with excitement. The others quickly nodded, clearly pleased by the idea.

Even Roman, quiet as ever, gave a small nod, the faintest smile tugging at his lips.

Vladimir didn't say anything, but he didn't object either.

With that settled, they returned to the game. Cards were dealt, and laughter soon filled the room. Sergei, brimming with confidence, kept winning round after round, grinning smugly each time he outplayed someone. Before long, the others began to gang up on him, verbally, at least.

"This isn't fair! You've won three times in a row!" Marina huffed, tossing her cards down.

"Yeah," Elena added, narrowing her eyes. "At this point, you should just step aside."

Sergei leaned back in his chair, hands behind his head, practically glowing with pride. "Then beat me. That's the rule, isn't it? If you want me out, you'll have to win first."

He laughed loudly, and the others groaned in good-natured defeat.

As the next hand was dealt, Marina leaned closer to Alexei, her eyes shining with curiosity. "Hey, Alexei, are you going to join the spring hunting trip?"

At that, a few of the others perked up. Elena raised an eyebrow, and Lev straightened in his seat. Even Irina, who had been quietly watching the game unfold, looked mildly interested.

Alexei glanced up from his cards. "Yes."

"Oh!" Marina clapped her hands. "Then we'll ask our parents if we can go too!"

"Me too," Lev said eagerly. "I've never been hunting, but I've always wanted to try."

"Irina and I can go together," Elena added with a smile. "We'll bring warm clothes and practice archery until then."

Alexei exhaled softly, the corners of his mouth twitching somewhere between amusement and weariness. He set his cards down for a moment and leaned an elbow against the table.

"You can ask," he said, "but they probably won't agree."

Marina tilted her head. "Why not?"

"Because hunting is dangerous," Alexei replied. "Most of the court keeps their children away from it, no matter how much they ask."

"I'm not afraid of danger," Sergei declared.

"It's not about you being afraid," Alexei said flatly. "It's about your parents worrying too much."

The group fell quiet for a moment, digesting that. Roman looked down at his cards, fidgeting. Lev exchanged a glance with Marina, who slouched in disappointment.

Still, Marina wasn't one to be discouraged for long. "Well, I'll ask anyway. Maybe if enough of us ask, they'll make an exception!"

Alexei gave a quiet sigh and picked up his cards again. "Good luck with that."

He was certain their parents wouldn't approve of them joining the hunting trip, so he wasn't worried in the slightest that they would actually come along and ruin his vacation. What he truly looked forward to was seeing what kind of guns would be used. He planned only to observe, of course. No matter how much he begged, he doubted his father would allow him to fire one. Maybe, just maybe, he would be allowed to hold one, but not shoot it.

Still, that would be enough.

He had never used a gun in his first life. And in the cultivation world, firearms didn't exist at all. This would be his first real encounter with one, and since guns were the primary weapons of this world, he was determined not just to become familiar with them, but to master them.

It didn't take long before they were called away by their respective parents. They said their goodbyes and parted ways.

Alexei walked out with his attendant, Sednev, who had remained quietly present the entire time. Outside, they were joined by Nagorny. Alexei found himself quietly grateful that his attendants were the silent type, professional, discreet, and unlikely to speak unless spoken to. From what he could tell, they carried out their duties with discipline.

Still, he couldn't quite read what they truly thought of him.

He wanted to test whether they could be trusted and eventually confide in them about his plans. That would be ideal, from what he could tell. They already worked closely with him, and it would be useful to have someone who could cover for him if he ever needed to go out in an emergency. Time would tell.

As they walked through the corridor, the soft clack of polished shoes echoed against the marble floor. Sednev and Nagorny flanked him in silence.

When they reached the dining room, servants pulled the tall doors open. Inside, the table was already set, crystal glasses, silver cutlery, and the quiet weight of imperial etiquette hanging in the air like perfume. His parents were already seated.

"Alexei," his mother greeted him with a warm, practiced smile. "Did you enjoy your time with the other children?"

"I did," he replied, taking his seat. "They brought new friends with them."

His father glanced at him from across the table. "And did you behave as you should?"

Alexei inclined his head slightly. "Yes, Father."

The meal progressed with quiet civility. His mother asked gentle questions, what games they played, whether the other children were polite, and Alexei answered in a suitably childish tone. His father spoke little, mostly observing his children.

Olga, as always, ate while playing with her stuffed toy. She refused to behave unless her beloved companion was with her. Tatiana, on the other hand, was quiet. It seemed their parents had finally figured out what would keep her occupied during meals, judging by the object she clutched in her hands. Alexei wasn't sure what it was, nor was he particularly interested. What mattered was that, for once, there was no crying at the table.

Dinner concluded quickly, and Alexei was soon led back to his chambers by his attendants. When they reached his room, Sednev stepped forward to open the door, waiting as Alexei entered. Sednev followed him inside while Nagorny remained outside, standing guard.

Inside, Sednev moved with practiced ease, drawing the curtains and preparing the bed. The room was warm, the soft crackle of the fire in the hearth filling the silence.

"Please rest now, Your Highness," Sednev said with a gentle smile.

Alexei glanced around the room, checking the corners as he always did. After a moment, he nodded. "Thank you. You may go now." Then he added, before Sednev could close the door, "Oh, and thank Nagorny for me."

"Yes, Your Highness," Sednev replied with a bow before leaving.

Once they were gone, Alexei went to the washroom and cleaned himself thoroughly. Warm water sluiced over his skin as he scrubbed away the weight of the day, but his thoughts were already drifting toward the coming spring hunt.

He couldn't help but wonder, could he enhance a rifle the same way he had enhanced his throwing knives?

Back in the slums, during that encounter, he had instinctively coated his knives with a thin layer of qi before throwing them at the intruders. The energy, though barely controlled, had enhanced the blades' sharpness and durability. It was a crude application, but in that critical moment, it worked. The knives pierced deeper and struck faster than they ever should have.

It hadn't been something he consciously planned. It was a split-second reaction, the moment he saw the thugs about to strike his subordinates, his mind acted before his body could catch up. In truth, he hadn't practiced qi enhancement in this life, nor had he attempted it before then. His body wasn't trained for reflexes like that yet. But his soul remembered, and his instincts carried the action through.

He hadn't expected it to work.

But it did.

Since that day, he had practiced every night, using forks, spoons, and any other handheld objects that could be turned into weapons. The qi enhancement would cling to the object for no more than five seconds after leaving his hand before dissipating. He also tried applying other enhancements he remembered from his past life, but failed. He could only enhance sharpness and durability.

In the cultivation world, weapon enhancement with qi had been commonplace, but it was always a deeply personal art. Qi was not a universal force; it reflected the nature, will, and affinity of the cultivator. Some enhanced their blades with burning heat, others with icy sharpness, others with pure force or speed.

My qi isn't elemental, Alexei thought, rubbing his face with a towel. At least, not that I can tell. But it's stable… dense. Focused. Like me.

He recalled what the elders in his past life used to say: Qi is not just energy. It is intent made manifest. It carries your will. The stronger the cultivator's will, the stronger the effect. But unlike legends and myths, qi could not form weapons out of nothing. It required a medium, steel, wood, iron, something physical to bond with.

A gun, however, was more complicated.

Rifles were not designed for qi circulation. They had moving parts, delicate mechanical structures not easily reinforced with raw energy. But if he could figure it out, if he could even partially enhance one, improve its accuracy, reduce recoil, reinforce the barrel, or extend the bullet's range, it would give him a decisive edge.

The real question was whether he would even be allowed to fire one during the hunt.

He doubted it. His father was unlikely to let him so much as load a rifle, let alone shoot it. At best, he might be allowed to observe. Maybe even hold one, under supervision.

Still, that would be enough.

After finishing his wash, Alexei returned to his room and completed his usual checks, curtains drawn, windows secured, locks clicked into place. Only then did he sit on his bed, posture straight, breathing steady.

The fire still crackled softly in the hearth, casting flickering shadows across the walls.

He closed his eyes and sank into the stillness.

Qi flowed slowly from his dantian, circulating through his limbs like a steady current. Not wild, not fiery, but calm, controlled and dense.

—----

Early Spring…

"Are we there yet?"

His son had been repeating that question ever since they left St. Petersburg.

They were on their way to the Białowieża Forest for the upcoming hunt. This would be the first time Nicholas had a chance to spend time alone with his son, without his ever-watchful, ever-nagging wife present.

He immediately pushed that thought aside. Careful, he reminded himself. He wasn't sure whether his wife possessed a sixth sense or something close to it, but she always seemed to know whenever he even thought about badmouthing her. After all these years, Nicholas had trained himself not to fall into that trap.

"Not yet," Nicholas replied, glancing sideways at his son, who was still buried in his book. The boy hadn't even looked up.

Nicholas narrowed his eyes in mock suspicion. "What's wrong with you today? You've asked that question like…" He paused, trying to remember.

"Nine times, Your Imperial Majesty," Boris answered promptly, clearly listening to every detail that might interest his Tsar.

Nicholas chuckled. "Right, nine times. That's nearly a week's worth of words coming from you. Miraculous, really."

He leaned back against the cushioned seat, stealing another glance at his son. For a moment, he considered trying again, another attempt at conversation, some shared interest, anything to build a connection between them.

When Alexei had spoken his first words earlier than most children, Nicholas had been overjoyed. He'd imagined them talking about books, history, or even politics one day. But in reality, Alexei gave short, clipped answers that ended conversations before they truly began. Every attempt at bonding made Nicholas feel as though he were speaking to a small statesman, or worse, a scholar trapped in a child's body.

"Why are you reading anyway?" Nicholas asked, feigning boredom. "We're supposed to be on vacation. Can't you at least pretend to be excited?"

"I am excited," Alexei replied without lifting his eyes from the page. "I just want to finish this chapter."

Nicholas rolled his eyes, smiling despite himself. "Well, forgive me for wanting to talk to my only son while we travel to the imperial hunting grounds. Silly me."

That earned a small grin from Alexei, though it remained mostly hidden behind the book.

"What's the book this time?" Nicholas asked.

Alexei finally looked up. "It's about European rifle manufacturing. I want to understand the differences before the hunt."

Nicholas blinked. "Of course you do." He glanced at Boris and muttered, "He's not even ten."

Boris simply smiled.

Alexei closed the book slowly and rested it on his lap. "I know I won't be allowed to shoot. But I'd still like to understand what I'll be watching. It helps me learn."

Nicholas was quiet for a moment, caught off guard by the seriousness in his son's tone.

"You're right," he admitted, sitting up straighter. "But you should also learn how to enjoy yourself. You're allowed to have fun, you know."

Alexei nodded slightly. "I'll try."

Outside, the scenery had begun to change. The endless white of the countryside gave way to dense forest lines as they neared the estate.

"We'll arrive in about fifteen minutes, Your Majesty," Boris informed them, adjusting his gloves as the carriage rocked gently along the packed snow road.

Nicholas smiled and leaned toward the window. "Look at that, Alexei. That's the edge of Białowieża. You see those trees? Your grandfather hunted here."

Alexei pressed a hand against the frosted glass and peered out. The trees looked ancient, tall, silent guardians of some forgotten world. He had read about this forest. Białowieża was said to be one of the oldest and most mysterious forests in Europe, still home to bison and wolves.

"Will we see any wolves?" he asked.

Nicholas chuckled. "Maybe. But don't get your hopes up, they're shy creatures. Not like your mother."

Oops. My wife is the most beautiful woman in the world, he quickly amended in his thoughts.

Alexei smirked.

Nicholas let out a satisfied sigh. Moments like this, when his son smiled or made even the smallest joke, were rare and precious.

The carriage slowed as the forest thinned near a clearing. Ahead, the imperial hunting lodge came into view, a stately wooden manor nestled among the trees. Smoke curled from the chimney, and guards stood at attention near the gate. Their horses exhaled clouds of steam into the cold air.

"Here we are," Nicholas murmured, straightening his coat. He gave his son a playful look. "Time to stop being a scholar and become a hunter, eh?"

Alexei half-shrugged as he gathered his gloves and book. "Maybe I can be both."

Nicholas laughed. "Of course you can."

The carriage came to a stop, and the door was opened by an attendant. A gust of cold air swept in, but neither father nor son flinched. They stepped out together, Nicholas lifting Alexei lightly before setting him down, and walked toward the gathered nobles who would join them for the hunt.

A cluster of fur-clad men stood near the entrance of the hunting lodge, their breaths visible in the frigid evening air. Snow crunched beneath polished boots as they shifted in place. Behind them, grooms tended to horses, and the scent of pinewood smoke drifted from the chimney, blending with the crisp winter air.

As Nicholas approached, the nobles straightened. Their bows were measured and practiced.

"Your Imperial Majesty," Count Orlov greeted first, stepping forward. His thick mustache was tipped with frost, and his gloved hand pressed flat against his chest. "It is an honor to accompany you once again on the hunt."

"Count," Nicholas replied with a nod, a polite smile tugging at his lips. "I trust your aim has improved since last year?"

A ripple of polite laughter followed. Count Orlov chuckled. "I've done my best, Sire. Though I fear the boar may still outrun me."

"Then let's hope they're feeling charitable," Nicholas said, stepping aside and gesturing toward his son. "You all know my son, Alexei."

The nobles offered respectful nods and bows to the young Tsarevich. Alexei stood straight despite the cold and returned each greeting with polite stiffness.

"He'll be observing this year's hunt," Nicholas added, resting a hand gently on the boy's shoulder. "A future Tsar should know our traditions, even if he isn't pulling a trigger just yet."

"A wise decision, Your Majesty," said General Mikhailov, a broad-shouldered man with a weathered face. "Nothing teaches better than watching men in the wild."

Alexei glanced up at his father but said nothing, his expression unreadable. He remained quiet as the greetings continued, Baron Sheremetev, Prince Volkonsky, and other familiar names from court.

They were soon ushered into the warmth of the lodge, where a roaring fire welcomed them in the central hall. Coats were removed, boots dried, and drinks offered. The air smelled of aged wood and fur, spiced liquor, and faint cigar smoke.

The lodge itself was rustic yet elegant, befitting imperial taste without losing the charm of a forest retreat. Hunting trophies adorned the walls, stag antlers, bear heads, even a rare lynx pelt. Beneath them, polished rifles rested on mounts, glinting in the firelight.

Nicholas joined a group of older nobles by the fire, already deep in discussion about which dogs would be used and which trails promised the best game. It didn't take long for politics to creep in, the murmurs of unrest in the cities, strikes spreading like frost. As usual, Nicholas treated it as background noise. He had no desire to discuss politics on his vacation.

Alexei, meanwhile, kept his distance, observing rather than engaging. He wandered along the edges of the room, studying the mounted rifles and occasionally meeting the curious glances cast his way.

Eventually, dinner was served in a long, timbered hall. The meal was hearty, game stew, fresh bread, cured meats, and root vegetables. Despite the formality, the atmosphere was far more relaxed than at the palace. Nicholas watched his son closely, noting how smoothly Alexei handled the nobles' curiosity, answering questions with polite, concise replies.

When the plates were cleared and the fire settled into glowing embers, Nicholas rose.

"We rise before dawn," he announced. "Let's all get some rest. Tomorrow, the forest awaits."

The nobles stood as one, offering bows and murmured goodnights. The mood shifted, less laughter now, more anticipation. The hunt was a performance of power, grace, and tradition, and none wished to be found lacking come morning.

Nicholas placed a hand gently on Alexei's back and nodded toward the stairs. "Come. Let's settle in."

Alexei didn't resist; fatigue was already setting in.

Their attendants met them upstairs. The bedrooms were warm and spacious, thick curtains drawn against the cold, heavy quilts laid neatly across the beds. Sednev helped Alexei out of his coat while Nagorny prepared the fire in the hearth.

Nicholas lingered in the doorway of his son's room.

"You did well today," he said softly, his tone lacking its usual teasing. "You carried yourself with dignity."

Alexei glanced up briefly while unlacing his boots. "I learned from you, father."

Nicholas smiled, then gave a small nod. "Sleep well, son. Tomorrow, you'll see the forest come alive."

"I'm looking forward to it," Alexei replied.

With a rare, quiet smile, Nicholas turned and disappeared down the hall. Sednev drew the curtains shut while Nagorny dimmed the lanterns.

—--

After checking that everything in the room was in order, Sednev and Nagorny excused themselves.

Alexei slid beneath the heavy covers. As warmth enveloped him and the crackle of the fire lulled him toward sleep, he stared up at the darkened ceiling.

He thought of his friends at court, who had cried when they learned they could not join him. Just as he had expected, their parents had refused to let them take part in the hunt. They were content to see their children accompany him within the safety of the court, but in a place as dangerous as this, they would never agree.

He didn't mind, though. If anything, he was grateful they hadn't come. It would have been a headache trying to entertain them while also figuring out whether he could enhance a rifle's capabilities in his hands.

 

[Twilight Kira93]

I would like to see more classic cultivation with swords or sorcery than something like gun cultivation. Cultivation is the mortal to godhood novel that run around qi/magic, self discipline, swords, spears, martial art techniques and spiritual pharmaceuticals. I would like to see Alexis trying to recover his cultivation than accepting his new lot in life, that's not how a cultivator behave. They never stop challenging heaven and earth.
Reading about a cultivator in the real world inside an historical family like the Romans give me goosebumps. Watching him returning to superhuman leaves and the reaction of the people and the colture around him and the massacre he could unleash to the communist revolution.

But gun cultivation? Basically developing a magic gun or flying? I have already seen that in Tanya the evil, not invested in seeing it again. Not that cultivation with guns would be the same but let's be real it boils down to magic bullets and I find it boring. But oh well...it's your story.

Anyway great concept. Cultivation in historical world give me chills. Wish more chapters.

 

[OtherGuy]

No sorry

 

[Twilight Kira93]

Does anyone knows how to change your username?

Click to shrink...

Click your avatar. go to 'Account Details'. Change username there

 

[ImperatorXCV]

Click your avatar. go to 'Account Details'. Change username there

Click to shrink...

Thank you.

 

[ImperatorXCV]

Early Spring 1901

The forest of Białowieża was eerily quiet, the stillness broken only by the occasional chirp of a distant bird. A small group stood scattered among the trees, watching intently as a man leveled his hunting rifle at a grazing elk. No one dared to speak or even shuffle their feet, fearful of breaking his concentration.

A sharp crack split the silence, bang!, followed a heartbeat later by the startled cry of the elk. The animal bolted through the undergrowth, its life clearly not claimed by the shot.

"Well," his father said in a low voice tinged with disappointment, "it seems I've missed my target."

"Let's find other prey," he added curtly, signaling his men to move on.

Turning back to Alexei, the tsar straightened and declared with a faint smirk, "That was only the first shot of the hunt, a mere warm-up. Don't think for a moment your father is anything less than an expert marksman."

Alexei met the boast with an amused smile. Missing the first shot was unfortunate enough, but the true sting lay in the nobles' silent reactions. A few exchanged quick glances, lips pressed tight as if suppressing smirks. Others busied themselves adjusting gloves or clearing their throats, feigning indifference. In the presence of nobility, mockery often wore the mask of politeness.

He paid little attention to the others, staying close to his father to carefully watch how the rifle was handled. Firearms were unfamiliar to him, making him a complete novice, but curiosity burned in his mind. He was already thinking of ways to persuade his father to at least let him hold the weapon and examine it. The sooner he could study its mechanics, the sooner he could test whether his enhancements might improve it, adding to his arsenal for the difficult days ahead.

His gaze drifted to the revolver strapped at his father's side. The idea of wielding a firearm in one hand and a knife in the other intrigued him. If integrated properly into his combat style, it could greatly enhance his effectiveness at close range.

Memories from his first life surfaced, scenes from films where protagonists dominated both hand-to-hand combat and close-range firefights. The techniques were crude compared to the refined martial disciplines of the cultivation world, but the concept held promise. If he could merge firearms with blades and movement, the result could be formidable. For now, though, the rifle would be his first test.

It didn't take long for new prey to be found. Guided by the stalkers, they moved like shadows through the undergrowth, the crunch of leaves muted beneath careful steps. The forest closed in around them, thick trunks and twisted branches framing a corridor of silence.

Alexei stayed close to his father, the tsar's imposing figure moving ahead with quiet confidence. Behind them trailed attendants and aides, eyes fixed forward, their breaths shallow.

Through a gap in the brush, wild boars emerged, broad-shouldered, bristled, their snouts buried in the soil as they rooted for bulbs and tubers. No one moved once they were spotted. The air tightened with restraint.

The tsar signaled for positions, a silent command weighted with tradition. Everyone knew the rule: the first shot belonged to him. Until that moment, no finger would touch a trigger. The nobles would fire only after the tsar's rifle spoke.

He raised the rifle slowly, the barrel steady despite the still cold spring wind threading through the trees. His finger tightened.

The shot rang out.

The lead boar jerked violently and collapsed into the churned soil with a guttural squeal. For a heartbeat, the clearing froze. Then, once his kill was confirmed, chaos erupted.

The remaining boars scattered in a frenzy, tusks flashing as they tore through the brush. The nobles surged forward, rifles snapping to their shoulders. Shots echoed through the forest. One boar stumbled mid-stride, another fell in a rolling heap, and the rest vanished into the trees.

When the echoes faded, the sharp scent of gunpowder lingered in the cold air. The tsar stepped forward to inspect his kill, offering a faint, satisfied nod.

"See that, son? Your father is the best," he said, turning to Alexei, who remained close at his side.

The nobles finally allowed themselves to smile.

The hunt had truly begun..

The rest of the day passed in a blur of scouting and hunting. While the nobles, after felling their quarry, often drifted into discussions about politics and the empire's economic affairs, voices carrying through the crisp forest air, the hunt itself remained lively. Attendants ranged farther afield, tracking and bringing back additional game, piling it up for transport later.

When the signal to halt was given, the party turned back toward the hunting lodge. The air was scented with pine and gunpowder, and the sun's golden light slanted low through the trees. Alexei walked silently beside his attendants, his thoughts fixed on a single goal, persuading his father to let him at least hold a rifle. Simply holding it, without firing, was far less risky than pulling a trigger. Surely that could be allowed.

Dinner that evening was lavish, roasted venison, spiced root vegetables, and fresh bread still warm from the oven. Conversation flowed easily around the long table, buoyed by full stomachs and wine-softened tongues. Alexei ate heartily, but his attention kept drifting to his father, waiting for the right moment.

That moment came when the meal concluded. As his father rose to retire, Alexei quickly offered to walk him back to his chambers. They moved down the long corridor lit by flickering sconces, their warm glow casting dancing shadows across polished floors. Their footsteps echoed softly, accompanied by the steady tread of attendants following a few paces behind.

"Father," Alexei began cautiously, glancing up, "may I… at least hold the rifle tomorrow? I promise I won't fire it, just to see what it feels like in my hands."

The Tsar slowed, casting his son a sidelong look. For a moment, only the distant crackle of fireplaces broke the silence. At last, he let out a quiet chuckle and shook his head.

"It took you a while to bring that up," he said, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "I expected you'd ask sooner, though your mother and I agreed you wouldn't fire a rifle."

He paused, then nodded. "Very well. But your attendant will be beside you the entire time."

Alexei's face lit up, but before he could speak, his father turned to Nagorny.

"You will teach my son how to hold the rifle and explain how it works," the Tsar said, "but ensure no bullet comes anywhere near him. Understood?"

"Yes, Your Imperial Majesty," Nagorny replied promptly.

"Good." The Tsar's smile deepened as he turned back to Alexei. "Satisfied, hmm?"

"Yes, Father. Thank you," Alexei said eagerly.
The Tsar patted his shoulder with a hearty chuckle. "Well, there you have it. I suppose I've fulfilled your 'mission' for volunteering to walk me back. My son, pretending to be dutiful, just so he can bargain for a rifle, hahaha."

Alexei grinned, eyes bright with excitement.

"Actually," his father continued, "I've been thinking of adding this to your military studies. You're already far ahead from everyone your age. I spoke with your uncle, my brother, and he's agreed to tutor you once he returns to the capital. So learn something from this hunt. I want him to be impressed by your brilliance."

"Okay, Father. I can handle it," Alexei replied cheekily. "Besides, it gives me more reason to hold guns in the future."

That earned laughter not only from his father but also from the attendants trailing behind as well.

"You brat," the Tsar said, chuckling again. "Now off to bed. We have many days of hunting ahead, and we'll need our strength."

"Goodnight, Father."

"Goodnight, my boy."

Alexei took his leave with Nagorny and Sednev, heading toward his chambers. The warmth of the lodge faded behind him, replaced by the hush of his own quarters. Once the door closed, he allowed himself a small, satisfied smile. Tomorrow, at last, he would hold a rifle.

Sednev caught the glint in the Tsarevich's eyes and quickly guessed the cause. "It seems you're looking forward to the days ahead, Your Highness," he said with a faint, knowing smile, glancing at Nagorny.

"Of course," Alexei replied. "I've heard a rifle is a man's best friend in the military. It would do me good to make a best friend early."

Nagorny was still making a methodical sweep of the room, checking windows, doors, and corners before speaking.

Alexei turned to him, his voice bright with anticipation. "And, Nagorny, teach me everything you know. We have the whole vacation ahead of us, so we might as well put it to use."

"Yes, Your Highness. You can learn as much as you wish, starting tomorrow," Nagorny said, finally straightening from his inspection. Duty always came first with him. Then he added, his tone firm, "But please understand this, your highness, I will not allow you to fire. The Tsar was clear, you will not be given bullets, and I will see to it that his orders are followed."

Alexei studied Nagorny for a moment, then glanced at Sednev, who was watching with quiet amusement. Finally, the boy sighed in mock defeat. "Fine. I won't fire any guns until I'm… ten, perhaps. But you must let me hold a rifle at all times tomorrow. No exceptions." He leaned on the last words with exaggerated seriousness.

"That will be acceptable," Nagorny replied, relief flickering briefly across his face.

Sednev, still leaning near the wall, chuckled inwardly. It was rare for Nagorny to speak so much in one go, the man was usually as quiet as a shadow.

"That's a deal, then. You may both leave when you're done, I'd like to rest," Alexei said after a pause, deciding there was nothing more to add.

When the room was checked to the last detail and his bed prepared, the attendants took their leave with polite bows. Alone at last, Alexei settled into the silence, the flicker of the fireplace casting shifting shadows on the walls. Then, with the practiced ease, he closed his eyes and began his nightly cultivation.

—-

The Next Morning

Frost clung to the earth like a thin sheet of glass, crunching under boots as the hunting party stirred to life. Alexei emerged from the lodge wrapped in a thick wool coat, his breath forming pale clouds in the cold air. Nagorny was already waiting by the steps, a rifle slung across his shoulder. He straightened as Alexei approached.

"Your Imperial Highness," Nagorny said with a half-bow. "Today, we begin properly. Not with firing, but with respect. A rifle is not a toy, nor merely a tool. It is an extension of the man who carries it. Treat it carelessly, and it will kill you. Treat it properly, and it will never betray you."

It was clear Nagorny was taking this training seriously. That suited Alexei perfectly. He nodded, hands buried in his coat pockets. "I understand…"

"You will," Nagorny replied, leading him toward a quiet corner of the grounds. Once they were alone, Nagorny unslung the weapon.

"This is a Mosin–Nagant M1891," he said. "Standard issue for the army. Solid, dependable, and accurate, if you know her well. This one has been customized for hunting."

He presented the rifle from muzzle to stock, his fingers moving with the practiced ease of a man who had done this countless times.

"First rule," Nagorny said, his voice firm. "Always keep the muzzle pointed away from anything you do not intend to kill. Even if the chamber is empty. Never forget that."

He demonstrated the ready position, the stock tucked against his side, the muzzle angled safely toward the ground. Then the port position, the rifle held across the chest, both hands firm but relaxed.

"Your left hand holds the forestock," Nagorny continued. "That's where your control comes from. Too tight, and you'll shake when aiming. Too loose, and the rifle will wander."

Alexei mirrored the grip, adjusting under Nagorny's guidance until it looked correct. The rifle was long for his height, and its weight should have been a burden, but Alexei handled it with surprising ease.

Nagorny had been worried at first that it was too early for the Tsarevich to handle a rifle. But seeing how easily Alexei managed its weight, he gradually relaxed and began teaching him more about how to carry it properly.

Nagorny demonstrated three methods for carrying a rifle when not aiming. The sling carry, worn over the shoulder with the butt down and the muzzle up. The trail carry, held in one hand with the muzzle angled forward and slightly down, away from the body. And the cradle carry, balanced across the crook of the elbow, the muzzle pointed to the side.

"The cradle carry is comfortable for long walks," Nagorny said, "but always keep the muzzle well away from your feet."

Then he nodded toward Alexei. "Now, bring it to your shoulder. One smooth motion, no fumbling. The butt should rest snugly in the hollow just above your arm joint. Not on the bone, unless you want a bruise you'll remember."

Alexei obeyed, lifting the rifle and letting the wooden stock settle into place. It felt awkward at first, like holding a tool not meant for his body, but he adjusted quickly.

"Good. Now look down the sights," Nagorny instructed. "Rear notch, front post. Line them up so the post is centered and level. Your target should sit just above the post, not directly on top of it."

Nagorny lowered his voice. "Remember, Your Highness, even before firing, you must think like a marksman. Calm breathing. Steady hands. You and the rifle must move as one. Don't fight it, but guide it instead."

They spent the rest of the morning walking the forest's edge. Alexei practiced the different carries, occasionally stopping to shoulder the rifle and aim at tree trunks or fence posts. Nagorny corrected his stance, adjusted his elbows, and repeatedly reminded him to keep his finger outside the trigger guard unless ready to fire.

By midday, Alexei's arms were tired, but there was a quiet satisfaction in the weight of the weapon, in the way it no longer felt foreign in his hands.

When they returned to camp for lunch, the Tsar was already seated by the fire, a silver cup in hand. He looked up as Alexei approached and smirked.

"So, how was it? Not tired yet?" he teased, though genuine curiosity glinted in his eyes.

Unbeknownst to Alexei, his father had been watching from a distance earlier. At first, he had been quietly concerned, the rifle seemed nearly as tall as his son. But as the lesson went on, pride had replaced worry. The nobles who had been with him were equally impressed, murmuring at the boy's natural poise with the weapon.

Alexei only smiled faintly, unwilling to show his fatigue. "Not tired at all," he said as he took his seat.

The Tsar chuckled, raising his cup. "Good. Then we'll see what you can do in the days to come."

Alexei lifted his own cup in response but chose not to speak further. His thoughts were already elsewhere, on what he had felt when he tried to channel his qi into the rifle.

Even without firing, he could sense that his qi had no effect on the weapon. Normally, cultivators could feel the subtle changes when an object was enhanced, so he knew enough to be certain nothing had happened. Still, he needed to experiment further, perhaps merely coating the weapon with his qi and enforcing his will upon it was insufficient. Maybe an array was required to draw out the desired effect.

In his life in the cultivation world. There were high end weapons that required an array to function their desired effect. Sadly, he didn't get a hand on those weapons as they were reserved only for the young masters in the clans and sect.

The real problem, however, was his lack of knowledge.

Most of his time in the cultivation world had been spent simply struggling to survive, leaving him with little opportunity to study advanced techniques or the deeper theories behind arrays and enchantments. Knowledge, after all, required money or spirit stones, resources he rarely had to spare. As a result, he had never been able to acquire much learning. Instead, his focus had always been on personal cultivation, techniques like the one he was using now, just to stay alive. That gap in learning now weighed heavily on him.

Even so, he resolved to keep testing. If nothing else, the days ahead might reveal what he was missing. For now, all he could do was nurture the faint hope that persistence would eventually unravel the mystery.

With lunch finished, Alexei decided to accompany his father on the afternoon hunt. He resolved to continue his training only in the mornings and dedicate the afternoons to hunting. That way, he could enjoy this rare vacation while still learning something on the side.

As usual, his trusted attendants accompanied him. This time, his father managed to bring down two prey in the afternoon, in addition to the one he had shot in the morning, leaving him satisfied. They spent the rest of the day watching others hunt and engaging in light conversation.

Before long, the hunt came to an end, and they returned to the lodge for dinner. When night fell and it was time to retire, Alexei insisted on keeping the rifle in his room. He argued that since it contained no bullets, it posed no real danger.

His father hesitated at first but eventually relented, ordering Nagorny and Sednev to thoroughly check both the rifle and the room to ensure there were no bullets before leaving.

Alexei was delighted to have his request granted. He reflected that he had never once thrown a tantrum since birth, though, was insisting on keeping the rifle considered one? He wasn't sure. Regardless, he felt grateful for his father's generosity. It hadn't even taken ten minutes for him to give in.

Father really is softhearted, Alexei mused.

If it had been one of his sisters making the demand, especially with tears or a tantrum, Alexei was certain his father wouldn't have lasted even half that time.

Upon arrival, they carefully inspected every corner of the room, from the furniture to his garments, going so far as to check the Tsarevich himself. Alexei didn't protest. He knew better than to cause trouble, and he understood his limits. Even as the heir to the empire, there were boundaries he could not cross.

Once satisfied, his attendants issued their final warnings, reminding him not to do anything reckless. Alexei nodded earnestly, assuring them that he understood both their concern and the seriousness of the matter. Only then did they finally take their leave.

At last, Alexei was alone.

He took a warm bath first, letting the tension drain from his body, then prepared to begin his nightly cultivation. This time, however, things would be different.

He intended to include the rifle in his practice.

—---

It had been several days since Alexei began incorporating the rifle into his practice. The others quickly noticed his foul mood, especially his closest attendants, Nagorny and Sednev. Even during the morning training sessions, Alexei seemed to drift toward despair.

Nagorny, who was always by his side during practice, could no longer hold back his concern and finally asked, "Are you ill, Your Highness?"

Alexei, who had been lost in thought while running through the basics, was jolted back by the question. He shook his head. "No."

"Then what seems to be the problem? Are you growing bored now that you've nearly mastered the basics I've taught you?" Nagorny pressed, gesturing for Alexei to stop what he was doing. It was clear he wanted to talk.

Alexei took a deep breath, gazing at Nagorny for a long moment before replying.
"No. I was just… wondering about something."

He wanted to share his frustration with someone, but he couldn't. He had resolved to keep his secret to himself. Speaking about it would do him no good, and worse, it could endanger his family. After all, once another man knew a secret, it was no longer a secret.

With a frustrated kick at a loose stone on the ground, Alexei walked over to a nearby chair, set his rifle down beside him, and sat. Nagorny followed close behind. Alexei's eyes wandered over the courtyard, where servants bustled about, tending to the nobles.

The experiment with the rifle had been a failure. He had tried everything he could think of, yet the results were far from what he had hoped. The qi refused to interact with the rifle's mechanism. At best, he could coat the weapon with qi to enhance it with durability, turning it into a reinforced club. He was confident he could swing it a hundred times against an enemy and it would still hold. But that was not what he wanted.

What he desired was to enhance the rifle for its true purpose, to make it deadlier, more accurate, and capable of greater range. Instead, all his efforts had yielded nothing. No matter how he tried, the rifle's mechanism remained stubbornly unresponsive to his will, even when infused with qi.

He knew he hadn't test-fired the rifle yet, but based on his experiments, the outcome seemed inevitable. Just thinking about it gave Alexei a headache. He had been so excited about this experiment, only to be crushed by its failure.

Perhaps he had been nerfed by the very entity responsible for his reincarnation, or maybe he had simply wasted his life in the cultivation world, never gaining the knowledge it truly had to offer. But what could he have done differently? His time in that world had been nothing but suffering and trauma, and only the sheer will to survive had kept him alive.

Oh, how envious he was of the protagonists in the novels he once read in his first life, characters who effortlessly gained knowledge and power simply by being chosen, reincarnated, or transmigrated. Meanwhile, all he had received was…

"Ahem…"

Alexei was pulled out of his thoughts when Nagorny cleared his throat.

Looking up from his seat, he saw Nagorny studying him intently, as if trying to diagnose him with some hidden magical eyes, which, of course, he did not have.

"I'm sorry, Nagorny. I had a lot on my mind. Did you say something?" Alexei chastised himself for drifting so deeply into his worries in broad daylight, especially with someone beside him who clearly wanted to talk. He didn't want to appear absentminded to others, but the habit had followed him from his first life.

"You're too young to be thinking so deeply, Your Highness. Do you want to share what's troubling you?" Nagorny asked, his brows furrowed. He was clearly worried. Only a few days ago, his tsarevich had been brimming with joy after being allowed to carry a rifle. Now, however, he seemed weighed down, as if burdened by problems far too great for his age.

"It's not something anyone could understand. But maybe in the future, if I truly have a problem, I'll share it with you, Nagorny. Thank you for worrying, though. Just… don't tell my father about this."

Alexei spread his hands to emphasize his state, then glanced at Sednev, who stood nearby and had clearly overheard everything. Sednev gave him a steady, serious look before nodding in silent understanding. Turning back to Nagorny, he saw the same response and felt a little more at ease. He didn't trust them fully yet, but at least they were loyal and seemed to report only to his parents. That much, he had gathered from observation. It wouldn't be long before he drew them into his inner circle, where his most trusted confidants would gather.

"Anyway, let's stop talking about this and continue with our routine. I also want to add some body exercises I read about in a book to our daily schedule. Do you have any military drills suitable for my age, Nagorny? Sednev?" Alexei asked with a grin. "Don't underestimate me, though. Even in this body, I can kill a boar with a single punch!"

He mimicked a punching stance from his seat, joking to lighten the mood and steer the conversation away from where he didn't want it to go.

Nagorny and Sednev looked speechlessly at Alexei. The way their tsarevich shifted the subject so effortlessly, as though it were nothing of concern, was in itself concerning. But what could they do? All they could manage was to remain vigilant for any signs of abnormality later on and hope that it truly was nothing. Their duty was to ensure that nothing unusual happened to the tsarevich, and they were determined to uphold that responsibility.

They had already accepted that their tsarevich was unlike other children. The way he spoke, moved, and observed those around him was astonishing enough. Rumors had already spread among the palace maids that the tsarevich was a genius even before they had arrived. They thought they were prepared for such peculiarities, but they were still left amazed by how composed and self-possessed he was, so much so that he would not even allow the maids to wash him.

They exchanged a brief glance before Sednev spoke.

"We must first ask His Majesty before teaching you any body exercises, Your Highness. Perhaps it would be best to complete the basic rifle training before moving on to anything else. It isn't wise to add everything at once, your body is still developing," he said, his voice tinged with concern.

Alexei regarded them for a moment before nodding. "Okay."

He had been considering it already, since he couldn't gain much of an advantage from the rifle, he might as well begin training his body for close combat. He was certain that, in time, he would become unmatched in this world. It was wiser to focus on what he was naturally good at. Still, they had a point. He would simply need to complete the basic rifle training before moving on to the others.

So Alexei began his training once again. Guided by Nagorny, he practiced another round of rifle handling and marching drills. By the time they were finished, it was nearly noon, and they made their way back to the lodge for lunch. When they arrived, Alexei saw that the meal had already begun. His father was speaking with General Mikhailov, but Alexei ignored them and quietly went to his seat.

When the Tsar noticed his son, he paused his conversation and asked how the training was going. He had been well aware of Alexei's foul mood over the past few days and had already asked him what was wrong, only to receive the usual excuse that it was nothing. Unable to press further, the Tsar simply let him be and had instructed Sednev to keep a close watch on his son, something Sednev and Nagorny had carried out dutifully.

"I'm fine, Father. Nothing to worry about," Alexei replied with a smile before digging into his meal. He was famished from all the training and thinking, so he ate heartily.

Seeing Alexei eat with such appetite, the Tsar finally relaxed. He subtly signaled Sednev and Nagorny for any signs of concern, but they only shook their heads. That reassured him enough not to ask further.

Alexei, however, secretly noticed their exchange. He gave Nagorny and Sednev a discreet nod of thanks before returning to his meal.

That afternoon, Alexei accompanied his father on a hunt. Yet even as he walked through the forest, his thoughts lingered elsewhere. It felt as though he were shackled, restricted from unleashing his full potential upon the world. Not that he had any intention of wreaking havoc, this was his world, his true home. What he wanted was peace, peace enough to live quietly and wait for the day technology advanced far enough for the games he longed for to return, decades from now.

"Whatever," Alexei muttered under his breath as he watched his father bring down another prey from a hundred feet away. The nobles and attendants applauded the clean shot, and moments later, the Tsar declared the hunt over for the day.

As the clapping echoed through the forest. He decided it was better to live life as it came rather than brood over what he could not attain. It was, after all, in human nature to always want more, even when one already possessed enough. He himself would have the strength to be considered superhuman in this world, yet still, he found himself yearning for things beyond his reach. It would do him no good to dwell on it.

They began making their way back to the lodge when Alexei noticed his father idly rolling a bullet between his fingers.

As if struck by lightning, he froze for a moment and almost slapped himself in the face. He had been preoccupied with enhancing the rifle that he forgot he could also enhance the bullet.

Maybe…

"Can I hold it?" Alexei asked, his wide eyes and eager smile giving him an air of innocent pleading.

His father glanced at him but said nothing, continuing to walk in silence.

"Look, Father, I'm not holding a rifle," Alexei added quickly, stretching out his arms and showing his empty hands to emphasize the point. "I promise, I'll return it before we reach the lodge."

His father studied him for a moment, then looked back at the bullet in his hand. Finally, with a soft chuckle, he said, "Tsk, tsk… You're getting bolder by the day, you little brat." He ruffled Alexei's hair before handing him the bullet.

Alexei's face lit up as he accepted it, muttering a quiet, "Thank you, Father."

His father only nodded before turning to Nagorny and Sednev. "Make sure to take it back from him before we arrive," he instructed. Both men gave a respectful nod in response.

Alexei studied the bullet carefully. It had a pointed tip, which meant his sharpness enhancement should work on it. Channeling his qi into the bullet, he willed the enhancement to activate, and it did. He then layered durability onto it, and to his satisfaction, the two enhancements worked perfectly together. A smile tugged at his lips. Now all he needed was a proper test.

The enhancement, however, would only last for five seconds after he stopped channeling qi. That meant the bullet would have to be fired almost immediately once loaded. Another possibility came to him, if he channeled his qi through his body, into the rifle, and finally into the bullet right before firing, then the effect would still carry over after the bullet left the barrel. That would give him at least five seconds of enhanced sharpness and durability in flight, more than enough to reach a target.

The question was, would it work? Would it improve the range and power like he wanted? He needed to test the theory. But he had already used up his "plus points," and he knew his father would never allow such reckless experimentation, unless Alexei wished to face the full wrath of his mother.

So he had to improvise.

After a brief moment of thought, Alexei turned to Nagorny. "Can you fire a rifle tomorrow? I want to see you in action."

Nagorny, who had been watching him closely, looked momentarily startled by the request. Of course he could fire a rifle, that much was obvious, but his eyes narrowed suspiciously at Alexei, as though sensing there was more behind the boy's question. Before he could press further, Alexei quickly added, "I've already seen almost everyone else fire a rifle, but not you or Sednev. I want to see your skills too. If you're really that good."

Alexei deliberately provoked them, questioning their abilities with the rifle. Question their skill with the rifle and they'll surely bite the bullet, he thought with a grin. The pun nearly made him laugh out loud.

Nagorny and Sednev exchanged a glance. Sednev tilted his head slightly and lowered his voice.
"Do you think he's up to something?"

"I don't know," Nagorny replied after a moment's thought. "But let's just get it over with tomorrow. It's only firing a rifle, anyway." He decided they would simply keep a close watch on their tsarevich and make sure he didn't try anything reckless.

Nagorny turned to Alexei. "Tomorrow morning, Your Highness, after you've finished a round of the basics, we'll let you see us shoot."

"Really? That's good. Hehe. Here, take the bullet, I'm done with it." Alexei handed it over with a silly laugh before hurrying to join his father, who was walking at the head of the hunting party.

Nagorny and Sednev could only sigh at the sight. Their tsarevich seemed to be having mood swings lately. Just a moment ago, he had looked utterly despondent, as if the weight of the world would crush him by tomorrow. And now…

They could only shake their heads.

Quietly, they followed Alexei toward his father, maintaining a respectful distance as the party made its way back to the lodge.

—----

Alexei woke up early the next day, eager to test his newfound hope. He ate his breakfast quickly, much to his father's amusement. Nicholas already knew what his son was up to, since Nagorny and Sednev had spoken to him about Alexei's request. He was not worried, he trusted that Nagorny and Sednev would do their duty in keeping the tsarevich safe.

Sednev led Alexei to the yard, where Nagorny was already waiting. Almost immediately, Alexei began his usual drills with the rifle. It didn't take him long to finish, after which he ordered the servants to line up wooden targets a hundred meters away. At least ten were set in place at once, and Alexei turned to Nagorny and Sednev, instructing them to get ready.

Though puzzled, Nagorny and Sednev followed their tsarevich's lead. But just as they prepared to fire, Alexei interrupted again, he insisted on touching the rifle before they pulled the trigger. What's more, he kept reminding them to shoot the moment his hand left the weapon.

They exchanged a silent look, baffled by his strange demands. What on earth was he trying to do? Yet when they confirmed there was no danger in it, they eventually relented. And so, the exercise began.

Alexei planned to test a simple comparison, one bullet without his enhancement and another with it. Primitive as it was, it would be enough to see whether the enhanced bullet carried more firepower than the regular one. He had already ensured that the targets were identical in both size and wood quality for an accurate comparison.

Once the shooting was done, Alexei immediately ordered the servants to retrieve the targets and deliver them to his room.

Nagorny and Sednev were left puzzled. They had sensed something unusual in some of the shots they fired but couldn't quite put their finger on it. To make matters more confusing, their tsarevich refused to let them examine the targets. All they could do was follow Alexei back to his room, only to be told to wait outside once they arrived. Reluctantly, they took up their posts, standing guard as their tsarevich busied himself inside.

Alexei quickly separated the targets struck by enhanced bullets from those hit by regular ones. When he noticed even the slightest difference between them, a broad smile spread across his face. By the time he finished examining all the targets, he burst into laughter, loud enough that Nagorny and Sednev surely heard it outside. But Alexei didn't care.

What a whirlwind of emotions this vacation had brought him through his experiments. The frustration when the rifle failed to meet his expectations, only for his spirits to soar now that the bullet enhancement had worked. How foolish he felt for not thinking of this sooner.

The difference between the enhanced and regular bullets was small, but it was there. All that remained was to measure how significant it truly was once he had permission to fire a rifle. For now, Alexei kept laughing to himself, while outside, Nagorny and Sednev exchanged uneasy glances, increasingly concerned by the strange behavior of their tsarevich.

 

[Twilight Kira93]

So you went with the magic bullet. Now you're obligated to give him an overly ornamented, gold-plated pistol to complement the magic bullet techniques he's going to develop. After all, nothing says 'cultivator' like looking good while showing some fool the immensity of heaven and earth.

Good chapter! I like how you made life difficult for Alexis in this chapter. Guns at that time were big, underdeveloped weapons. They got the job done, but they were heavy and unwieldy, much like an iron sword compared to a steel one. I also became slightly less annoyed with the magic bullet dislike, as I was thinking about bloodborne guns.

Keep going, champ!

 

[ImperatorXCV]

Mid spring 1901

The weather had begun to grow warmer, and with it the land slowly awakened from winter's grip. Fresh green leaves unfurled on the birches and lindens, while the first blossoms pushed through the thawing soil, scattering gardens and fields with gentle bursts of color. The rivers, once locked in ice, now ran freely, their currents carrying away the last fragments of snow. Mid-spring in Russia carried with it a sense of renewal, the promise of life returning after the long, merciless cold.

As Alexei traveled back to St. Petersburg with his father, he watched the countryside roll past the train carriage windows. Villages stirred with activity, farmers turned the damp earth in their fields, children splashed in muddy lanes, and the scent of fresh growth mingled with smoke from cottage chimneys. Everywhere was the hum of a season awakening, a quiet joy that seemed to settle over the land.

He grinned as he watched the world outside, a quiet satisfaction settling over him. Life, so far, had been good in this new life. Though he felt restrained by the limits of his cultivation, it no longer weighed heavily on his mind. After all, this world was nothing like the cultivation realm of his past life. He only needed to be cautious not to end up assassinated.

Alexei's eyes drifted around the small compartment of his train carriage. It was cramped, but large enough for him to pace in circles when restless. He stepped toward the desk where his notebook lay waiting. Sitting down, he opened it and began to jot down the tasks that awaited him once he returned to the imperial capital. The issue of money still gnawed at him. He couldn't simply turn to his father or mother for funds, doing so would invite too many questions about where it would all be spent, and he had no desire to endure their scrutiny. No, he would need to solve this problem on his own.

It was around midday when Alexei finally finished jotting down his thoughts. He closed the notebook with care and slipped it beneath his pillow, as though hiding away a precious secret. Just as he was about to settle onto the bed, a knock sounded at the door. Sednev's voice followed, announcing that it was time for lunch and that the Tsar had requested his presence.

With a soft sigh, Alexei rose and opened the door, telling Sednev to lead the way. Nagorny, who had been standing guard outside, immediately fell in step behind him. Alexei couldn't help but notice the strange looks the two exchanged as they walked. Clearly, they still hadn't forgotten the unsettling laugh they had overheard back at the lodge.

But what could he do? He got so caught up with happiness when he figured out that his enhancement truly worked in amplifying a bullet's firepower. So he decided to ignore the weird glances and not talk about it. Some things were better left unspoken.

Alexei arrived at the dining car of the train, where all of his father's acquaintances had gathered for lunch. The Tsar's eyes immediately lit up at the sight of him.

"Alexei, you're finally here. Come, eat with us," his father said warmly, gesturing to the seat beside him.

Alexei complied and began filling his plate with Sednev's help. The sight of the dishes spread across the table stirred his hunger. His appetite had been steadily increasing as he grew older and advanced in his cultivation. Without hesitation or restraint, he began eating the moment his plate was full.

His father watched with quiet satisfaction. To him, a hearty appetite meant health, and that was all that mattered. He made no attempt to correct his son's manners at the table. Without his wife's presence, and away from the rigid etiquette of court, there was a freedom in these moments, a freedom where indulgence was allowed, so long as it did not slip into excess.

When his father saw that Alexei had finished eating, he couldn't help but ask,
"So, what do you think of our first hunting trip together?"

Alexei wiped his mouth with a serviette before replying.
"It was okay. You shot plenty of game, but I didn't even get to fire once."

He gave his father a quick glance before turning his attention back to the table, searching for more food. The dish he wanted was too far away, so he asked Sednev to fill his plate for him.

His father watched speechlessly, realizing how difficult it was to satisfy his son. He had already granted Alexei's requests during the hunt, yet it still seemed not enough.

"Your mother wouldn't allow it anyway. Besides, it's not as if you could handle the recoil yet. You need to grow a little more before you're ready. Maybe in a few years, my son." He grinned as he gently ruffled Alexei's hair.

"Maybe next year?" Alexei asked hopefully, his eyes fixed on his father.

"You're pushing it. If you can convince your mother, then I'll agree too." His father chuckled, not expecting his son to bargain.

Alexei didn't answer. He only pouted and continued eating, knowing full well it would be impossible to convince his mother.

It didn't take Alexei long to finish his second plate. He wanted more, but realized it might seem odd for him to eat so much already, so he reluctantly stopped. Glancing around the dining car, he noticed it was still full, and it seemed as though some of the passengers were quietly listening to their conversation while pretending not to. As usual, Alexei paid them no mind. It would still be a few years before he had to concern himself with court politics. For now, that burden rested with his father, who could manage them easily, after all, they were his friends and close confidants. Not his.

Seeing that Alexei finished his lunch, his father spoke. "We'll arrive tomorrow at dawn. Hopefully, it won't be too cold. Make sure you're ready by then, we'll be having breakfast at the palace with your mother and sisters."

"Okay," Alexei replied. Then, realizing he had nothing else to do, he added, "Can I go back to my room now?"

"Of course," his father said with a nod.

Alexei rose from his seat and said, "Thank you," before walking back to his room, followed closely by Sednev and Nagorny.

When they arrived, Alexei turned to Sednev. "I'm still a little hungry. Could you bring me some food? I want the roasted beef."

Sednev hesitated for a moment. He had served Alexei during lunch and knew how much the boy had already eaten, yet it still wasn't enough? Still, he kept his thoughts to himself and replied, "Of course, Your Highness. Anything else?"

"That'll be all," Alexei said with a shake of his head. He walked over to the window, sat down, and resumed gazing at the passing scenery.

At that, Sednev quietly left the room, while Nagorny remained stationed outside the door to stand guard.

—---

Alexei rose early the next morning, carefully packing away the few belongings he refused to let others touch, his notebook chief among them. After checking twice to be sure he hadn't forgotten anything, he sat by the window and waited for Sednev and Nagorny to summon him for disembarkation. They came soon enough, and together they left the room, meeting the tsar near the exit.

His father only gave him a nod when he saw him. He seemed preoccupied, speaking with Boris, likely about the gifts he intended to bring along for the journey. Alexei's own presents for his mother and sisters were already with Sednev, chosen with care from local artisans near their lodge in Białowieża. Once the conversation ended, his father turned to him and asked, "Are you ready? We'll disembark as soon as the guards finish checking the station."

"Yes. But why are they checking the station? Can't we just go now?" Alexei replied, unable to hide his impatience. He wanted to reach the palace quickly so he could rest. Sleeping in the carriage train was nearly impossible, the constant motion kept him awake. He had become a light sleeper in the cultivation world, where danger lurked everywhere. One careless lapse could mean death.

"They're just doing their job, son. Be patient," his father said with a smile. But Alexei could tell it was only an excuse. He simply muttered, "Oh," and sat down to wait.

As he observed their surroundings, he noticed that everyone seemed tense. The nobles who usually accompanied his father were absent, likely taking a different exit. The tsar's personal guards formed a tight circle around them, every man on high alert. Even Sednev and Nagorny looked uneasy. Were they anticipating an assassination attempt? Alexei didn't know, no one had informed him, but the possibility was clear enough. He resolved to keep his enhanced senses sharp during the journey from the train station to the palace. Better to be cautious than to risk cutting his life short.

Soon, a guard approached his father to report that the station was secure, and they began to disembark. To Alexei's surprise, he was separated from his father by at least ten meters, some kind of precautionary protocol in case of an attack, he assumed. The walk outside was heavy with tension. When they exited the station, they were met by more guards who surrounded their carriage. The entire area had been cleared of travelers. Communication among the guards was conducted only through hand signals. In silence, they were escorted safely to the carriage.

The moment the door shut, the carriage lurched into motion. Alexei peered out the window, keeping vigilant in case anyone tried to strike at them. His father did not speak to him, conversing instead in hushed tones with Boris, who rode with them. Nagorny and Sednev hadn't joined their carriage, but Alexei was certain they were close, probably in the one behind them.

Keeping his senses sharp throughout the ride only deepened his exhaustion, yet he refused to relent. His eyes swept the streets, searching for any sign of unusual movement beyond the carriage window. Each turn of the wheels felt heavier with tension. At last, and to his quiet relief, nothing happened, and soon the palace loomed into view.

—--

Alexei walked beside his father as they made their way toward the dining room. It seemed he wouldn't be given the chance to rest or change before meeting his mother and sisters. Still, he thought it was for the best, this way he could enjoy the rest of the day without interruption.

It didn't take long before they arrived. His mother stood near the doorway, her rounded belly unmistakable, while his sisters were carried in the arms of their caretakers.

The moment she saw his father, she offered a graceful curtsy and said softly, "Good morning, and welcome back, husband."

His father smiled warmly. "Good morning, my wife. You didn't have to wake so early just to greet me." He stepped closer, embracing her without hesitation, his voice tender. "Tell me, how are you feeling? How is the pregnancy treating you this time?"

Without minding the servants or attendants nearby, the tsar leaned down to kiss her cheek and placed a gentle hand upon her swelling stomach.

She blushed faintly at the public display, though she tried to disguise it by taking his hand and lowering it from her belly. "It is already my fourth pregnancy," she said softly. "There is nothing to worry about."

Then her eyes shifted, settling warmly on Alexei.

The moment Alexei noticed his mother looking at him, he quickly spoke. "Good morning, Mother. I missed you so much." He tried to smile, but the exhaustion on his face betrayed him.

"Good morning to you too, my son. If you miss me that much, then perhaps you should stay with me next time instead of following your father." She opened her arms with a gentle smile. "Come, let your mother hold you."

Alexei obeyed, leaning into her embrace. After the hug, she studied his face more closely, her eyes softening with concern. "You look tired from your travels. Let's have breakfast first, and then you can rest," she said gently before turning toward her husband, who was happily entertaining their daughters.

"That's enough, husband. Let's eat."

The Tsar reluctantly handed the girls back to their caretakers, then guided his wife to the table, helping her sit.

They prayed before beginning their meal. Not long after, Alexei's mother started a conversation with his father. "Count Witte came here a week ago and told me about something…"

Alexei paid little attention. He simply kept eating, even after his parents had already finished. His mother noticed his appetite and was about to speak, but his father stopped her with a subtle shake of his head. He leaned close, whispering something to her. She raised an eyebrow but sighed, deciding to let Alexei be.

Their quiet conversation resumed until, at last, Alexei set down his utensils, having finished his meal.

It was then time for gifts. His father began first, presenting his offerings to his wife and daughters. When his turn came, Alexei carefully handed his gift to his mother, then turned to his sisters. Olga's face lit up with delight as she received hers, while little Tatiana, too young to understand the meaning of gifts, simply let her caretaker accept it on her behalf.

When all was finished and his mother had finished admiring the gifts she received, she turned to Alexei and said, "You may rest for the day, my son, but tomorrow you will resume your studies with your tutor. And do not forget, you must tell me everything that happened during your vacation."

Alexei, too full and weary, only replied, "Yes, Mother. Then I'll take my leave." He rose from his seat and began walking toward his room, accompanied as always by Nagorny and Sednev.

When he arrived, he found Anya, whom he hadn't seen for quite some time, preparing his bed. She smiled warmly and said, "Good morning, Your Highness. Welcome back." Yet almost instantly, she cast a resentful glance at Sednev standing behind him before quickly forcing another bright smile in Alexei's direction.

The gesture was swift, but Alexei caught it. He guessed she might be upset at being left behind while Sednev and Nagorny had accompanied him on his vacation with his father. But he was far too tired to entertain their petty rivalries and said, "Good morning to you too, Anya. I'll take my bath before going to bed. Is it ready?"

"Yes, Your Highness," she replied, gesturing toward the bathroom. Alexei made his way there. She knew well that he disliked anyone assisting him with his bath, so she simply led him to the door.

Once Alexei closed it behind him, Anya turned around and shot a sharp glare first at Sednev, then at Nagorny, who was already busy checking the room. She said nothing, only returning to her task of readying the tsarevich's bed.

At this, Sednev and Nagorny exchanged a glance and shrugged. They both knew she had been Alexei's nanny since his birth, and unless their tsarevich himself ordered otherwise, there was little they could do about her moods.

What a jealous woman, they thought.

It didn't take Alexei long to finish his bath. When he returned, he told them he would sleep for the rest of the day, skip lunch, and only have dinner later. With that, he dismissed them and went straight to bed.

—--

Alexei woke to the sound of the door opening. His body tensed instinctively, but the faint aroma of food reached him, and when he turned his head slightly to see who it was, he relaxed. It was only Sednev.

Noticing that the tsarevich was awake, Sednev bowed his head slightly and said, "Forgive me, Your Highness, if I disturbed you."

Alexei pushed himself up slowly, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. A glance toward the window told him that the sky was already darkening. He turned back to Sednev. "It's fine. Is that dinner?" he asked, gesturing toward the food. Hunger stirred within him again, though all he had done was sleep.

"Yes, Your Highness. Your mother instructed that you stay in your room and dine here tonight. She only asks that you be on time tomorrow for your lessons and a talk with her." Sednev carefully set the food on the table, then moved to help Alexei out of bed.

"Thank you, Sednev. Did you manage to rest?" Alexei asked. He was never sure when, or how, his attendants found time to sleep. They always seemed to appear whenever he needed them.

Sednev smiled. "Of course, Your Highness. I rested earlier while Nagorny stood guard. Now it is his turn to sleep, and I will keep watch for the rest of the evening."

Alexei's expression remained calm but inwardly he silently cursed them. He didn't like their arrangement one bit. He had a plan for tonight, and if Sednev remained outside his door, he would have no choice but to slip out through the window again. He only hoped they wouldn't discover his absence before he returned.

It was best to tell them about his plans, but Alexei reminded himself, not yet. They would probably panic if they discovered a five-year-old like him could do things far beyond his age. So, instead, he simply nodded at Sednev and began eating. He finished his dinner quickly and told Sednev that he would spend the rest of the evening reading in preparation for tomorrow's lessons. He emphasized that no one should disturb him or open the door unless the palace was burning or under attack.

Sednev paused, staring at his tsarevich for a moment before replying. "Yes, Your Highness." He bowed his head, then started clearing the table. Inwardly, he mused about his young master's peculiarities. Once the table was spotless, he asked, "Do you need anything, Your Highness? Perhaps a snack for later?"

"No need. Thank you, Sednev. See you tomorrow." Alexei smiled, patting his stomach. He was grateful that Sednev had brought so much food, it seemed his attendant already knew how much it took to make him full.

"Then have a good reading, Your Highness." Sednev bowed once more before leaving the room.

Alexei remained seated for a moment, waiting until he was certain that Sednev had walked away to put away the cutlery. Then, he stretched, trying to digest his meal quickly so it wouldn't hinder his movements later. Once he confirmed it was still early, he picked up a book and read while waiting for the household to fall asleep. By the time he had finished nearly half of it, he closed the book and began his preparations.

He changed into light, fitted clothes, then retrieved a small sack he had hidden before leaving for his vacation. After checking that he had everything he needed, he moved toward the window, quietly unlatched it, and carefully climbed out. With deliberate care, he pulled the window shut behind him before making his descent into the night.

Alexei carefully slipped past the guards, making his way toward his destination, the servant's quarters, the place where the palace's repository supervisor lived. He already knew every corridor and hidden walkway in the palace from his previous nightly excursions. Getting lost was impossible. The only place still beyond his reach was the basement, where the vault and family treasures were kept. The guards there were so numerous and vigilant that even he hadn't dared to attempt sneaking in. For now, he had to find another way to secure the seed money he needed for his plans.

When he reached the servant quarters, he noticed that some of the lights were still lit. Curious, he paused and listened. A few servants, still awake, were quietly gossiping among themselves. Alexei lingered for a moment, straining to catch their words. Once he confirmed that their idle chatter had nothing to do with him or his family, he moved on silently, heading toward the room of the man he sought, Andrei, the repository supervisor. With luck, he would already be drunk and fast asleep.

From what Alexei had gathered, Andrei was a disgrace of a servant, lazy, corrupt, and thoroughly detestable. How he had secured such a position remained a mystery, though it was clear he must have had powerful backers within the palace. Alexei didn't yet know who, but he was certain of one thing, once he had real power in his hands, Andrei would be among the first to go.

What kind of man entrusted with safeguarding palace property spent his days harassing servants, drinking himself senseless, and shirking duty? Worse still, Andrei oversaw the storage of broken or slightly damaged palace items, objects that might still hold value. Who could say how many had already found their way into his pockets, sold off in secret? Perhaps darker dealings lay hidden behind his drunken bluster.

And Alexei didn't like it one bit as it was happening where his family lives. He already swore to himself that he would protect them and the ones he confirmed that pose a threat to his family need to be eliminated. Still, for now, this Andrei would live, as it would cause too much commotion if they found a body inside the palace.

Alexei arrived at Andrei's door and carefully looked around. Once he was certain no one was nearby, he checked the door, and, as expected, it was locked. Without hesitation, he slipped outside to where Andrei's window should be.

Fortunately, Andrei's room was on the first floor, so the climb wasn't too difficult, though it was still high for Alexei's stature. He scaled the wall with care until he reached window level and tested them. To his relief, one had been left slightly ajar.

Pausing, Alexei pressed his ear closer, listening for any sign of movement inside. He wasn't concerned if Andrei was awake, if that was the case, he would simply beat him until he passed out. That was the plan. If Andrei happened to already be drunk and asleep, then he should consider himself lucky, his own drunken stupor had spared him a well-deserved thrashing.

Once he was certain there was no movement inside, Alexei carefully widened the gap in the window and slipped through. He landed silently, already in a fighting stance, his senses sharp and alert. The room was dim and quiet. On the bed lay what he hoped was Andrei. Alexei scanned his surroundings one more time, and when he found no sign of danger, he allowed his body to ease just slightly. Moving closer, he peered down at the figure on the bed. It was Andrei.

To be sure, Alexei leaned in and checked his breathing. The stench of alcohol hit him so strongly he nearly gagged, cursing himself for even trying. Still, the reek confirmed what he needed to know, Andrei was drunk and completely passed out.

Without wasting time, Alexei began searching for the keys to the repository storage of the palace, where he intended to ransack anything of value. Luck was on his side, the keys sat openly on the table beside the door. He didn't know which keys were for the repository storage, so he took them all and would test all of them at the site.

He cast one last glance at Andrei, checking if he had stirred. The man remained dead asleep. Satisfied, Alexei pocketed the keys and slipped out as quietly as he had entered.

Alexei made his way toward the repository storage of the palace, carefully avoiding the guards who were on their nightly duties. What struck him most was how absurdly easy it had been to slip in and out inside. If there had been an organization, or even a single group, skilled in such work, the palace would have been stripped bare long ago, or worse, its occupants slaughtered in their sleep.

He silently hoped no such group existed. After all, this was the 1900s.

He pushed the thought aside as he reached the repository storage. Keeping his distance, he carefully scanned the area before approaching. Two guards caught his attention, one stationed firmly at the door, the other slumped nearby, fast asleep.

Just as Sednev had mentioned earlier, they seemed to take turns standing watch. Convenient, Alexei thought. Their routine made his task far easier, perhaps even too easy.

He carefully wrapped a cloth around his fist, making sure it was tight. Then he pulled his mask over his face. After scanning the area once more and confirming that no one else was present aside from the two guards, he moved.

Keeping to the guard's blind side, Alexei wrapped his fist with qi and advanced. He managed to get within four meters before the guard finally noticed him, but by then, it was too late. Alexei surged forward, his sudden speed catching the man completely off guard. Before he could make a sound, Alexei's fist crashed into his jaw. The guard dropped his rifle with a dull clatter before collapsing unconscious to the ground.

The noise roused the second guard, who stirred and began to rise from his slouched position. But before he could fully sit up, Alexei was already upon him. A sharp blow to the head forced him back down, returning him to an even deeper, unwilling sleep.

Alexei drew in a slow breath and let it out. That short burst of speed had drained more from him than he expected, his stamina was nearly gone. At least the immediate problem was dealt with. His body still wasn't built for a prolonged fight.

He shook his head and unwrapped the cloth from around his fist. A bruise had already begun to swell across his knuckles. The pain was sharp, but manageable. He still didn't know what was wrong with him, but he trusted it would heal with time.

Once his breathing steadied, he dragged the unconscious guard and propped him next to the one who had been sleeping. To anyone passing by, it would look like two men shirking their duty. That done, Alexei turned his attention to the door.

He worked through the keys one by one, his patience tested with every failed attempt. Finally, the right one slid in and turned with a soft click. He eased the door open and paused, scanning the surrounding area once again. When he confirmed that no one had seen him. He slipped inside.

What greeted him inside was dust, the kind that clung to the throat with every breath. They didn't even bother to clean this place, he thought. Alexei searched for a switch, and when he found it, he flicked it on.

The dim light revealed broken palace items, heavy with dust. Most weren't worth much, yet some still held value, especially silver pieces and ornaments whose designs still pleased the eye. He scanned the room carefully, selecting only what could fit into his small sack.

When he found objects that were light, compact, and still valuable, he slipped them inside with practiced hands. He moved quickly. Time was short, and he knew sooner or later a guard would come through on patrol. Larger items weren't worth the risk. He ignored them, focusing only on what he could carry.

Once he was satisfied, he closed the sack and moved silently toward the door. First, he switched off the light, plunging the room back into darkness. Then he pressed his head against the narrow gap of the door, carefully peering outside.

The guards he had knocked out were still slumped where he left them, breathing heavily in their forced sleep. After confirming no one else was nearby, he eased the door open just wide enough to slip through with the sack. Once outside, he closed it gently, locked it, and left.

Alexei made his way back toward Andrei's room, carefully avoiding the patrolling guards. He walked slowly, the sack dragging heavily behind him. Exhaustion was beginning to creep back into his body, but he pressed on.

When he finally arrived, he set the sack down quietly and climbed up to the window. Peering inside, he checked first to see if Andrei had stirred. When he confirmed that the man was still asleep, Alexei slipped through the window and returned the keys to their original place.

He was about to pass Andrei's bed when a groggy voice stopped him.

"Who are you? What are you doing here?"

Andrei was struggling to sit up, drunkenness still weighing heavily on him.

Alexei froze, his body tensing as instinct took over. Without replying, he lunged forward. His fist, charged with qi, connected squarely with Andrei's jaw, knocking him back into unconsciousness.

Really? You just had to wake up for that punch? Alexei thought bitterly, wincing at the pain now throbbing in his knuckles. For a moment, he was tempted to hit him again just to vent his frustration.

But he didn't linger. Climbing back out the window, he hefted the sack once more and disappeared into the night, heading back toward his room.

Alexei carefully climbed through his own window, the sack slung behind him. Once inside, he let his body relax as he quietly set the sack down, making sure not to make a sound that might alert Sednev, who he was certain was still outside.

He allowed himself a moment to rest, breathing heavily as his eyes fell on his knuckles. The skin was swollen, dark with bruising, and it looked as if the blood beneath was about to burst through. Slowly, he gathered what remained of his qi and willed it into his injured hand.

The healing was faint, almost sluggish. By the time his qi was nearly depleted, the wound had only improved by the barest margin, perhaps one-tenth healed. Alexei let out a quiet chuckle at the futility of it.

Looks like this will take some time to mend, he thought. But now he was certain of one thing, whatever his illness was, it had something to do with his blood.

Thankfully, he was certain the disease would heal once he advanced to level three of his body cultivation. If not, he doubted he would even make it to adulthood, and would likely end up dead, again.

He chuckled ruefully at the thought, then sat up and quietly hid the sack. Once that was done, he took a bath to wash away the sweat and dirt. Fortunately, plumbing had been added to the palace not long ago. Though the water wasn't heated, as Anya usually prepared for him, he didn't bother with the inconvenience and bathed anyway.

When he finished, he carefully dried himself and prepared for sleep. He didn't bother cultivating tonight as he was so damn tired.

As he waited for sleep to claim him. He reflected on what had become of him. A prince who was a killer and a thief. What's next?

 

[Thiccc Shaedy]

"Alexei, his name will be Alexei Nikolaevich," he said gently, cradling his son as he watched him drift off to sleep in his arms. Afterward, he handed the baby back to the midwife and checked on his wife. Seeing that she was simply asleep and exhausted filled him with relief. Shortly after, the rest of his family entered the room, gazing at the sleeping prince. Grand Duke Michael Alexandrovich, the third in line for succession now after his brother Grand Duke George Alexandrovich and the newly born Alexei, congratulated him with a pat on the arm. "Congratulations, brother! It seems you can relax now that you have an heir." Nicholas was glad to sense that he genuinely meant it. He smiled and replied, "Thank you, brother." He is still sad that his brother, Grand Duke George Alexandrovich, couldn't be with him at this moment. A second later, Grand Duchess Xenia Alexandrovna also offered her congratulations before turning her attention to the baby, leaving her brothers to continue their conversation.

Click to shrink...

Please start a new paragraph whenever you switch speakers in a dialogue. For example... Each differently coloured bit of text that I've quoted should be it's own paragraph.

It might be best to Google "how to write a dialogue in a story/novel." Or just run your chapters through ChatGPT for proofreading before posting them to help you improve your writing.

One more thing... how about using italics when writing flashback scenes.

 

[ImperatorXCV]

Mid spring 1901

Alexei had been watching the palace closely for a week. He expected Andrei to report the incident to his superiors, but nothing seemed to have come of it. No whispers of burglary, no mention of an assault. The only change he noticed was that the guards at the repository had been replaced and now numbered at least ten. He didn't dwell on it, since he had no plans for another heist anytime soon.

He had already sold his spoils through the black-market contacts Anna had pointed out a few days earlier, earning a total of 2,100 rubles. At first, the sum had seemed laughably small, certainly not enough to buy a house in the slums. Anna, however, had quickly corrected his expectations. In this era, an urban worker earned barely twenty-five rubles a month. Renting a single room cost seven to eight rubles, while a small house could be rented for around fifteen. Bread and a simple meal didn't even cost a full ruble. By those standards, a slum house might not sell for more than two thousand rubles, if they were fortunate enough to find one.

For now, Anna hadn't located a suitable property, so they had no choice but to wait.

Meanwhile, Alexei was preparing to begin his military lessons. His uncle, Grand Duke Michael Alexandrovich, had arrived just the day before at his father's request and would personally oversee his instruction. Alexei was relieved he wouldn't be attending a formal school. As heir to the throne, his education remained firmly within the hands of the imperial family and carefully chosen tutors.

His mother, however, had become increasingly at odds with his father over the matter of rifles during hunts. She had questioned every guard present, including Sednev and Nagorny, to ensure that Alexei had never fired a single shot. It was clear she trusted neither him nor his father on the matter. She had even refused his request to learn martial arts, forcing him to train alone and in secret. He knew his body needed conditioning, as even a few basic movements had left him drained.

At the very least, she had approved of his military lessons, and for now, that would have to be enough.

—--

A few days later…

"Good morning, Uncle," Alexei greeted as he entered the room prepared for his military lessons.

He wasn't particularly familiar with his uncle, who traveled often and rarely attended family gatherings. More often than not, his presence was felt only through birthday gifts that arrived without warning.

"Good morning to you too, Alexei," his uncle replied with a relaxed smile. He was dressed casually in his home clothes, a stark contrast to the formality Alexei was used to. It seemed the rumors were true, his uncle was easygoing and not overly concerned with strict court etiquette.

Alexei took a seat across from him at the desk. Several military books were neatly arranged atop it, likely placed there by the man standing behind his uncle. It seemed his uncle had brought someone along.

Catching Alexei's glance, his uncle gestured casually. "Ah, this is my guard, attendant, and friend, Viktor. You can call him whatever you like. Haha."

Alexei offered Viktor a polite nod before turning back to his uncle, thinking dryly, That wasn't funny, Uncle. Still, the stories about his uncle's strange humor appeared to be true. Maintaining a polite smile, he asked, "What are we going to do today, Uncle?"

"Oh, about that…" His uncle leaned back with a chuckle. "Since this is our first meeting alone, let's save the lessons for next time and just talk today. I want to get to know you first. As for these books, well, if your father or mother happens to walk in, we'll pretend we're having a lesson. What do you say? Are you in? Hehe."

He laughed again, clearly convinced Alexei shared his aversion to formal lessons.

I like to learn, Uncle, Alexei protested inwardly.

"Oh… okay," he said instead, forcing a smile and playing along. If his uncle wanted to build familiarity, that wasn't necessarily a bad thing. Alexei knew he would need people he could trust in the future, and if his uncle proved to be one of them, all the better. Family loyalty, after all, came first.

Thus, his first day of "military lessons" ended not with books or strategy, but with his uncle showing him a revolver. When Alexei casually mentioned that he liked guns the most, his uncle happily indulged him, eager to impress his nephew.

—--

"So, how was your lesson with your uncle, son?" his mother asked during dinner.

Alexei took a bite, swallowed, and then replied, "It was okay. I had fun."

Across the table, his uncle barely suppressed a grin, shooting Alexei a smug look as though proud of his decision to skip anything serious on their first day.

"How could you possibly have fun in a military lesson?" his mother asked suspiciously, glancing at his uncle, who pretended not to hear and quietly continued eating.

"Just…" Alexei tried to come up with an excuse, but his uncle saved him.

"I taught him how to give orders to soldiers," his uncle said smoothly, winking at Alexei before resuming his meal. "He enjoyed it."

His mother continued to eye them both with suspicion, but didn't press further. Instead, she turned her attention elsewhere. "How long will you be staying this time, Michael?"

Alexei didn't know how his father had convinced his mother to agree to this arrangement, but it was clear she didn't fully trust his uncle to properly teach him military matters.

"Until I'm no longer bored, sister-in-law," his uncle replied with his signature grin before glancing at Alexei's father, who was watching him with narrowed eyes. That made his uncle quickly drop the grin and silently take another bite of food.

"Hmm. Then I hope you get bored quickly," his mother muttered under her breath. No one seemed to notice, except Alexei, whose sharp hearing picked it up.

The table fell into silence until his father broke it. "How about you organize a party, Alexandra? My mother should be back next week from her travels, and my brother rarely visits. Since they'll both be here, I think it's a good opportunity to throw a party.. What do you think?"

"Pawrty!" little Olga chimed in, raising her hands with a wide smile. Her enthusiasm brought a smile to everyone's faces at the table.

His mother forced down a frown before agreeing softly, "Alright." From what Alexei knew, his grandmother was more popular in court and among the people than his mother. That's why he was sure that there is some tension between his mother and his grandmother, and judging by his mother's reaction, he was certain he was right.

"Good," his father said with a pleased smile, nodding before continuing his meal.

Dinner ended shortly after, and Alexei excused himself. Instead of going to his room, he headed straight to the kitchen, with Sednev and Nagorny by his side.

When they arrived, he spotted the chef, Yuri, busy chopping ingredients. The servants were cleaning up and looked ready to speak, but stopped when Alexei pressed a finger to his lips. They bowed silently instead. Alexei didn't disturb Yuri, waiting until the man was finished.

As Yuri turned to prepare the next dish, Alexei greeted him.
"Good evening, Yuri."

Yuri paused, then smiled.
"Your Highness! Here again? I suppose dinner didn't fill you up. The usual, then?"

Alexei nodded with a grin.
"The usual. I just can't get enough of your cooking, Yuri. It always makes me want to come back." He took a seat, while Sednev and Nagorny remained close by.

"You're getting cheekier, Your Highness," Yuri chuckled, pleased by the compliment. He then barked at one of the servants, "Pavel! Get over here and help me."

Remembering his manners, he quickly bowed with an apologetic smile. "Forgive me, Your Highness."

"It's fine. I don't mind. Just bring me the food," Alexei replied.

"Of course, Your Highness. Just a moment." Yuri hurried to work, with Pavel assisting him.

Soon, he returned. "Will this be enough, Your Highness?"

Alexei smiled and nodded.
"That's perfect. Thank you, Yuri. I'll be back again soon."

"You're always welcome here, Your Highness," Yuri replied with his warmest smile.

Not lingering, Alexei left the kitchen with Sednev and Nagorny, this time carrying food. When they reached his room, he found Anya preparing his bed. She bowed and greeted him, and he nodded before dismissing them. "I'd like to be alone now. I'll see you all tomorrow."

Anya and Nagorny left, but Sednev lingered. Alexei noticed.
"What's wrong, Sednev?"

Sednev hesitated before voicing out his concern.
"It isn't good to eat too much before bed, Your Highness. I don't know how you manage to eat so much, but… it's not normal. From my experience, it can't be healthy."

Alexei looked at him quietly for a moment.
"I know, Sednev. But don't worry. How about this, if I get sick from eating too much, I'll stop. Fair enough?"

Sednev sighed in defeat and nodded.
"Alright, Your Highness. Goodnight."

With that, he finally left the room to rest while Nagorny stayed outside to guard his door.

—-

Alexei paid little attention to what Sednev thought of his eating habits. The food had never been meant for him anyway. After Sednev left, he quietly changed into darker clothes, the kind that wouldn't easily catch the eye in the shadows. He sat by the window, listening as the corridors of the palace grew still and the murmur of the servants and guards outside faded into the deeper silence of night. Only when he was certain that everyone had retired did he move. Carefully, he packed the food into his sack, tying it tightly so it wouldn't rustle. With one last glance at the door to make sure Nagorny hadn't stirred, Alexei slipped the window open and lowered himself into the cool night air, vanishing into the darkness beyond.

He walked directly towards the slum area of the city. Carefully maneuvering the people he suspected of harboring ill intentions. After so many nightly excursions, he had begun to form a clearer picture of the place, a breeding ground for petty criminals and larger crime groups alike. He might have called them the mafia of the 1900s or gangs, yet they were so disorganized that they spent more time fighting each other than engaging in illegal activities for money and power.

What unsettled Alexei most, however, was not the violence but the ease with which the people could be swayed by propaganda. When Anna first mentioned individuals distributing pamphlets in the slums, he hadn't given it much thought, only curious about their contents. But when she finally handed him one, he was shaken. The words were incendiary, accusing the tsar and nobility of hoarding wealth while peasants starved, denouncing injustices faced by workers, and promising change if the people rose together. These were the ideas being sown into the minds of the people.

It wasn't as though everything written in the pamphlets was false, some of it was undeniably true. Alexei himself had witnessed the suffering, the hunger, and the injustices with his own eyes. Yet what troubled him was not the grievances themselves, but the way they were being twisted into calls for open rebellion against his family.

Sadly for them, he stood firmly against their ideas. Their cries for revolution, though powerful and often rooted in truth, were nothing but a direct threat to everything he held dear. His defiance was not born out of loyalty to the nobles and aristocrats who clung greedily to power, he cared little for them or their privileges. No, his resistance came from a far deeper place, his devotion to his family, to his sisters. For them, he would stand against the tide of rebellion itself, even if it meant standing alone.

Alexei had already accepted that change in Russia was inevitable, perhaps even necessary. But it could not be the kind of change that would bring about the downfall of his family, and with it, his own end. If change was to come, it had to be on terms favorable to himself. That was the only way he could reconcile his conscience with survival.

The problem, however, was painfully clear, he had no real power. He was still a child, bound by his age and circumstances, unable to act openly. For now, he would have to be cautious, careful in how he approached these storms gathering around his family, waiting for the moment when he could act with purpose.

As Alexei drew closer to his destination, he forced himself to shake away his thoughts. For now, he would simply do what he could. After a turn down the narrow street, he arrived. He knocked with a coded rhythm, and soon the door creaked open. Without hesitation, he stepped inside.

Anna and her brothers were already gathered around their small table, sharing a late dinner. They had been waiting for him, he realized, and the thought warmed him. For the first time in a long while, he felt they were beginning to see him as one of their own.

"You're only eating now?" he asked, his eyes drifting toward Anna in particular. The others nodded in agreement.

Anna quickly pulled out a chair for him before answering. "Yes. We thought you'd arrive earlier. Sorry, we couldn't wait." She ended with an embarrassed smile.

"Next time, don't wait on me. Eat on time. Here, I brought food," Alexei said as he sat down. He began taking food from his sack and placing them on the table, which immediately brought smiles to Anna's brothers, and to Anna herself, of course.

"Thank you," Anna said softly once Alexei had emptied the sack. Her brothers echoed her words with gratitude.

Alexei simply gave a small nod. "Eat."

And eat they did.

Alexei joined them, taking bites of food while engaging in light conversation about their day. From his observations, the siblings shared a strong bond, united as one, which he greatly admired. Anna, in particular, cared for her brothers with the attentiveness of a mother, always placing their safety above her own. Her brothers, however, leaned on her far too heavily, a dependency Alexei knew he would need to address in time. If they wished to survive, each of them would have to carry their own weight.

Dinner did not last long. Once the table was cleared, Alexei reviewed the assignments he had given them the day before. Petrov showed notable progress in his studies, outpacing his older brothers. Despite his frail constitution and the weakness left by the days of starvation before Alexei found them, Petrov excelled in academics. His aptitude for learning compensated for what he lacked in martial ability. The twins, on the other hand, were the complete opposite, restless when it comes to academics, yet eager and full of energy whenever martial training began. Anna, he mused, was something in between, diligent in her studies, yet not averse to the discipline of combat.

After checking their work, Alexei resumed teaching them the basics of mathematics, writing, and language. He had already resolved to send them to school in the city, or perhaps hire a proper tutor, once circumstances allowed. He could not devote years of his life solely to their education, his time was needed elsewhere, for preparations of greater importance in the future.

Once the lessons ended, they shifted to combat training. The twins' faces lit up with excitement, while Petrov's expression darkened with reluctance. This time, however, Alexei spared him from drills. Instead, he set Petrov on a regimen of simple exercises, meant to build his strength and improve his constitution over time.

When they were done, Alexei told them to wash up first before going to bed. He leaned back on his chair, listening to the soft chatter of the children as they prepared themselves. Once Anna finished, he gestured for her to sit with him.

"Any news?" he asked in a calm but expectant tone.

Anna wiped her hands on her apron before sitting across from him. Her brows knitted slightly, as though she were carefully weighing her words.

"Yes, I found one, but it's not for sale," she said hesitantly. "I asked around, but I think it's difficult for us to buy a house since we don't have any status, and we're just children. So I think renting might be a better option. We can just make up things that might be believable."

Alexei had not realized this problem until now. In his mind, everything had seemed so simple, you found a house, offered money, and made it yours. It hadn't occurred to him how suspicious it would look for children, especially Anna, barely eleven years old, to be handling such matters. He had been too focused on the practical side of securing shelter and had overlooked how the world would perceive them. Fortunately, Anna had seen what he missed, and he felt a quiet relief that she had been sharp enough to catch his mistake.

Leaning forward with renewed interest, he said, "Go on."

Anna then described the house in detail, the modest size, its location near the edge of the district, the creaking yet sturdy frame, and the rent. She even mentioned the small courtyard where, in her imagination, her younger brothers could play safely.

Alexei tapped his finger on the table thoughtfully, then gave a short nod. "I'll check it out. Good work. Any other news in the slums?"

Anna shook her head firmly. "Nothing. No."

"Hmmm…" Alexei murmured, though his tone carried a hidden weight. After a moment of silence, he asked another question, his voice quieter this time, as if testing the waters. "Anna, before you met me, did you ever know others like you and your siblings? Children without parents, orphans struggling to get by?"

Anna tilted her head, her eyes narrowing slightly as she tried to read his expression behind the mask. Alexei often had a habit of hiding his true intentions behind casual questions. Finally, she sighed and answered. "Yes. But not many. We don't see them much anymore since we rarely go out. Why?"

Alexei's gaze sharpened, a glint of resolve in his eyes. "When we can find a house, I want you to try to find them. Invite them to join us. Tell them I'll provide food and work. A future."

Anna blinked in surprise, her mouth opening slightly. She fidgeted with the hem of her sleeve, visibly unsettled. "Why? Aren't we enough for you? We can study harder, practice more… I promise we'll do better. You don't need anyone else."

Alexei softened his tone and leaned back, watching her carefully. "It's not about you not being enough. You and your brothers are already the core of everything I want to build. But in the future, I'll need more people, more hands, and more minds. You'll always be at the center, Anna. That won't change."

She lowered her gaze, chewing on her lip. The thought of strangers joining their tight-knit little group clearly bothered her. "Really?" she whispered.

"Really," Alexei assured her, his voice firm yet kind. "You don't need to worry. We will grow bigger, stronger. But you and your siblings must always stay ahead. You guys must study harder and train better."

Anna lifted her eyes, meeting his gaze. For a long moment, she studied him with a mix of uncertainty and admiration. Then, as though making a quiet vow, she straightened her back. "Don't worry. We won't disappoint you. And… I'll talk to them. If they want to join, I'll bring them to you."

Alexei smiled faintly, the corner of his lips curving with satisfaction. "I know you won't disappoint me, Anna. You and your brothers are my first students, and you'll always be the ones I trust the most. If you falter, it reflects on me too. That's why you must stay sharp." He paused, his tone softening. "But for now, just think about what I said. There's no rush. First, we secure the house, then we observe the others before letting them in."

Anna nodded, determination flashing in her eyes. "Okay."

Alexei stood up, brushing the dust from his trousers. He walked over to the boys, who were already arranging their bedding, and grinned. "Goodnight, boys. Don't forget your assignments."

"Goodnight, Master!" they chorused together, their voices filled with warmth and playfulness. A ripple of laughter followed, and even Anna allowed herself a small smile.

Alexei chuckled, shaking his head as he turned away. "Goodbye," he said softly.

The title Master amused him. It felt like being a high ranked expert or young masters in the cultivation world in which he could only envy in his past life. It seemed they decided on their own on what to call him since he didn't give them his name. Still, he liked it.

Alexei didn't dwell on it as he made his way through the slums toward the location Anna had told him. When he arrived, he carefully observed the surroundings of the house. It was a detached structure that looked abandoned, its walls worn down by time and neglect. At the back, he noticed a canal that could serve as a convenient escape route if the need arose.

After ensuring the area was clear, he climbed the wall to get a better view. The front yard was wide enough to fit three cars side by side, while the back was nearly twice as spacious. From the outside alone, he found the property appealing, but he still needed to inspect the interior. Circling the building cautiously, he looked for an alternate entry to avoid the front door. Fortune favored him when he discovered a broken window, through which he climbed, sliding into the darkened interior.

The inside resembled a haunted house, dusty, cold, and silent, but Alexei ignored the eerie atmosphere and pressed on, inspecting every detail. Several parts of the structure needed repairs, and certain fixtures would have to be replaced, but overall, the house suited what he was looking for.

Once satisfied with his inspection, Alexei slipped back out. He had decided he would rent the property, provided their budget was enough to cover both the rent for a few years and the necessary renovations. Still, it would have been better if they could just purchase it but it seems he didn't think things through. Without wasting time, he returned to the palace, quietly entered his room through the window, washed up, and settled into bed. Cultivating first before sleeping.

—---

The days passed steadily. Alexei had instructed Anna to rent the house, though the process was not without its difficulties. After all, who would believe that an eleven-year-old girl had the means to rent a property? Alexei himself could not handle the matter either, as he was unable to appear during the day.

In the end, they managed to rent the house for forty rubles a month on a three year-long contract, though the actual price was only thirty. Lacking a trustworthy adult to negotiate on their behalf, they had no choice but to accept the inflated terms. With the rent agreed upon, their next challenge was to scrape together the remaining funds, carefully budgeting for both repairs and food.

They also needed to address the suspicions of the owner, who had found the circumstances unusual. Even so, Alexei was confident they could endure whatever challenges lay ahead. All he needed was to be present each night, ready to drive off any thug foolish enough to try and take the house from them, while Anna would handle the situation during the day, she could just tell whoever was interested in them to wait for the renter to arrive at night from work and he'll handle the rest. And if the owner turned out to be a scumbag who would sabotage them? Accidents can happen anytime and the owner was surely not immune to it.

—--

Alexei walked toward the banquet hall, where the celebration for his grandmother's and uncle's homecoming was being held. He was accompanied by his father, his heavily pregnant mother, and little Olga, who was carried in the arms of her caretaker. Tatiana didn't make the cut, as she was too young.

He felt quite uncomfortable in his clothes, but since his mother had personally chosen them, he had no choice but to wear them. Together, they walked like a group of peacocks, ready to impress the crowd. The moment they arrived, they instantly became the center of attention, and their little group was soon surrounded. It took much talking and smiling before his father finally managed to guide them toward his grandmother, who had been watching them from afar, the star of the day together with his uncle.

"Welcome back, Mother," his father said the moment they reached his grandmother, his voice formal yet affectionate. His mother echoed the greeting, followed by Alexei, and little Olga, who only managed a smile from her caretaker's arms.

His grandmother's sharp eyes studied each of them in turn, her gaze lingering on Alexei for a moment longer before softening into a faint smile. She then turned back to her son, Nicholas.

"Thank you for the party, my son. Now, where is your brother?" she asked, her tone carrying both curiosity and the slightest trace of impatience.

Nicholas glanced around but saw no sign of his younger brother. Helplessly, he returned his gaze to his mother. "It seems he hasn't arrived yet, Mother. Don't worry, I'll send someone to look for him." With a discreet nod toward Boris, he gave the order.

"Tsk." His mother clicked her tongue and waved her hand dismissively. "No matter. Let's get on with the evening and enjoy ourselves." She gestured lightly, signaling that she didn't need them hovering around her any longer.

Nicholas chuckled softly and bowed his head in deference before leading his wife and Olga away toward the other guests. Alexei was about to follow when his grandmother's voice stopped him.

"Not you, dear," she said, her eyes fixed on him with a mixture of pride and curiosity. "Come here. Let me look at you properly."

Alexei hesitated, glancing back at his parents. His mother frowned slightly, clearly reluctant to leave him behind, but before she could speak, his father intervened.

"Go on, son," Nicholas said warmly. "Spend some time with your grandmother." He gave him an encouraging smile before guiding his wife and daughter onward.

Left with little choice, Alexei stepped forward and bowed politely before his grandmother. She reached out and touched his cheek gently, her stern expression softening even more.

"You've grown so much since I last saw you," his grandmother murmured, studying him closely. "Tell me, how have you been? Are you being a good boy to your parents?"

Alexei shifted slightly under her steady gaze but managed a polite answer. "I've been well, Grandmother. Father and Mother take good care of me."

Her lips curved into a small smile, the sternness in her face softening into warmth. "Good. That is what I wanted to hear. You remind me of your father at your age, no, I'll take that back. You're far better than your father ever was. Handsome, taller, and perhaps a little brighter too."

Alexei wasn't sure how to reply to that, so he simply nodded, his ears turning faintly red.

His grandmother chuckled softly, patting his shoulder. "Why don't you tell me how you spend your days, Alexei? I heard you went on a hunting trip with your father. I truly don't know what he was thinking, bringing you along at your age. Why don't you tell me about it, hmm?"

With no polite way out, Alexei recounted the trip in detail. By the time he finished, he realized he had spoken far more than he intended, his throat dry from the effort. Still, his grandmother seemed genuinely pleased, her eyes glinting with quiet amusement as she listened.

At last, she waved her hand lightly. "Go on then. A boy your age shouldn't be stuck talking to an old woman. We'll see each other again soon, Alexei." She smiled, her expression softening once more.

Relieved, Alexei bowed respectfully. As he stepped back, he spotted a familiar group of boys and girls weaving through the crowd toward him. The moment they saw him, their faces lit up. Alexei's own smile broke free, he finally found an excuse to not join his mother and father at their table, a task he found exhausting, as it required him to constantly mind his manners

They clustered around him, hovering so close it felt as though they were afraid he might vanish if they let him out of their sight. Alexei arched his brow and asked dryly, "What are you all doing?"

Each of them wore the same mischievous grin, so identical and sly that it almost looked unsettling. After a brief standoff, Sergei finally broke the silence. "You won't escape us this time."

Marina immediately jumped in, her eyes glinting with playful determination. "Exactly! You haven't played with us once since you came back from your vacation. Tonight, we'll play until we drop." She lifted her chin smugly, daring the others to challenge her.

The group nodded eagerly in agreement, their anticipation palpable. Alexei made a show of hesitating, before sighing and agreeing. At once, their faces lit up, and they all shouted a cheerful, "Yeahey!" in unison, their voices ringing across the hall.

A few guests turned their heads at the noise, but upon realizing it was only children, they shook their heads with indulgent smiles and returned to their conversations. Alexei's gaze wandered toward his parents, his mother was deep in animated chatter with the court ladies, while his father, as always, was locked in serious discussion with his ministers. Both seemed far too absorbed to notice him. He exhaled softly in relief.

"So," he asked his friends, lowering his voice a little, "what now?"

"Let's go! There's a juggler just for us," Elena announced, her face bright with excitement. She was already bouncing on her heels as if ready to sprint.

And so, laughing and whispering conspiratorially, the little band of children paraded across the hall, weaving past tables and gilded pillars, until they reached the far corner where the entertainers had gathered to perform.

They watched the jugglers until the novelty wore off, then turned to their favorite card game, Durak. This time, however, they were determined not to let Sergei emerge victorious yet again. Laughter and playful bickering filled their little circle as they lost all sense of time, the game pulling them deeper into its rhythm. Their attendants dutifully brought trays of food whenever hunger struck, allowing the children to remain engrossed in their play without interruption.

Their parents eventually discovered them, but seeing the harmless joy of the gathering, they chose to let the children be. Even Alexei's mother, who often kept a watchful eye on her son, felt a swell of contentment knowing he blended so naturally with her friends' children.

It was almost the end of the banquet when Alexei noticed his uncle arrived, who was clearly being scolded by his grandmother and father despite having smiles on their faces.

Alexei didn't bother with them and instead turned to Roman, who had just begun talking about his dreams.

"One day, I'm going to be a soldier," Roman declared with certainty. "A general, even. Just wait and see, I'll have men marching at my command."

Sergei smirked. "You? A general? You'd get yourself into trouble for disobeying orders before you ever led an army."

Roman sat up, offended. "And what about you, then?"

"I'll be a great general," Sergei replied with a grin, undeterred by Roman's jab. "The greatest the world has ever seen."

"You're just copying me!" Roman huffed, clearly unwilling to share his dream with anyone else.

"You just happened to say it first," Sergei retorted with a chuckle.

Elena rolled her eyes. "You two always argue. As for me, I want to travel. I want to see Paris, Rome, maybe even faraway lands like Egypt. Why should I stay in one place all my life?"

Marina clasped her hands together dreamily. "I'd like to be a ballerina. Imagine dancing on stage, with everyone watching and applauding, that's what I want."

Irina shook her head but smiled softly. "I'd rather have a quiet life. A family, perhaps. Something simple, but happy."

Lev scratched his freckled nose thoughtfully before speaking. "I want to be an inventor. Did you hear about those automobiles they were talking about? I want to build one too."

Vladimir, with his perpetually furrowed brows that made people wonder if it was simply the natural shape of his face, scoffed. "You all keep dreaming. My father says if you tell your dreams to others, they won't come true."

"Liar," Marina, Roman, and Lev said almost in unison.

Marina narrowed her eyes at him. "Then what's your dream, Vladimir?"

Vladimir flashed a sly, almost wicked smile. "Secret."

Marina gave a dramatic huff at that, though deep down she looked a little troubled, as if worried her own dream might never come true now.

At that moment, all of them turned toward Alexei, their eyes expectant. He froze for a moment, caught off guard.

"What about you, Alexei?" Elena asked gently. "What do you want to be?"

Alexei hesitated at first. He hadn't thought about dreams since he was reincarnated into this world. Survival had always been at the forefront of his mind, and dreams felt like a luxury he could not afford. Still, with everyone's eyes fixed on him, he forced himself to speak. "I'm not sure yet. Perhaps… I just want to live long enough to choose for myself."

For a moment, silence hung in the air. His friends didn't fully understand his words. Finally, it was Marina who broke the silence, "What do you mean you're not sure yet? Come on! Tell us your dreams." Almost pleading.

"I don't really know yet. Why don't we continue playing?" Alexei tried to shift the topic back to the games they were playing and after much effort, finally averted the topic. He knew how fragile dreams could be, how war, sickness, and fate could shatter them in an instant.

Still, as he looked at each of his friends, so full of life and hope, he silently hoped that their dreams would come true, no matter the hardships they might face in chasing them.

 

[ImperatorXCV]

October 20, 1904

The air in the palace was thick with unease, a weight that clung to every corridor Alexei passed through. Since the fateful declaration of war against Japan, it felt as though Russia had been trapped in an endless winter. Cold, brittle, and unforgiving. The very walls seemed to whisper of looming disaster, as reports of defeat after defeat from the Far East spread faster than any word of victory ever could. Beyond the palace gates, the city simmered with unrest. Revolutionaries gathered in the shadows, their anger swelling against a government struggling to keep its footing. Inside and out, tension coiled like a storm on the verge of breaking, and Alexei could feel it pressing in on him with every step he took.

He moved carefully toward his destination, his father's office. A meeting was underway inside, and Alexei was determined to know what was being discussed. The steady stream of grim news from the war had unsettled him deeply. The newspapers he read were filled with sharp criticism of the government's failures, yet he knew much was concealed behind layers of censorship. He wanted the truth, unfiltered and unvarnished.

As he neared the office, he deliberately slowed his pace. Just before the corner leading to his father's door, he stopped beside a wall adorned with mounted hunting trophies, proud stags, boars, and bears frozen in eternal display. Reaching up, he carefully tilted the ear of a deer's head downward. A faint click followed, and to his quiet satisfaction, the wall shifted slightly, revealing a narrow passage hidden behind it.
Alexei had no idea who had built this hidden passageway, perhaps Peter the Great himself, or one of his successors. Whoever it was, Alexei found the secret invaluable. It would serve him well in the future, a perfect tool for discreetly listening to the guarded conversations of the palace. After glancing around to ensure no one was watching, he slipped inside and quietly pulled the hidden door shut behind him.

He navigated the concealed passage with practiced ease. From time to time, thin shafts of light filtered through tiny cracks in the walls, carrying with them muffled voices and the distant hum of palace life. When he was certain he had reached the wall behind his father's office, he leaned closer and peered through a small opening.

Inside, he could see his father's advisors, ministers, and several military generals gathered together. Alexei shifted into a more comfortable position, steadying his breathing, and began to listen.

—--
Nicholas felt as though his life had been nothing but a series of trials since the day the crown was placed upon his head. From the weight of the empire's endless problems to the unrest simmering in the streets, it seemed fate had conspired to test him at every turn. Now, this war, the first great conflict of his reign, gnawed at his spirit. He had been told it would be a swift and easy victory, a campaign that would bring glory to Russia and secure its dominance in the East. Yet reality had been cruel. What began with bold promises and confident predictions had unraveled into a bitter chain of defeats, each more humiliating than the last.

His advisors, those same men who once spoke with unshakable conviction of effortless triumph, now sat before him with downcast eyes, their voices subdued, their former arrogance stripped away. Nicholas's hands tightened at his sides, the urge to lash out at them rising like fire in his chest. He wanted to seize them by the collars, to demand answers, to make them feel the same shame that tormented him. But instead, he watched them shrink into their seats, as if wishing the walls would swallow them whole.

"So? what now?" Nicholas finally broke the heavy silence, his voice low and simmering, like molten rock straining beneath the surface. His gaze swept across the chamber, piercing each advisor and minister in turn, as though daring one of them to find the courage to speak. The air was thick with unease, the rustle of uniforms and the shifting of boots echoing louder than words. For a moment, it seemed none would dare answer him.

At last, the minister of foreign affairs, Vladimir Lamsdorf, cleared his throat, his tone measured but cautious. "Your Majesty," he began carefully, "the reinforcements are already on their way. We must place our trust in General Kuropatkin to turn the tide of the war."

At the mention of Kuropatkin's name, several of the generals shifted uncomfortably. Nicholas noticed it. He leaned back in his chair, fingers drumming on the armrest. "Trust?" he repeated coldly. "I have trusted him for months, and what has it brought me? Defeat after defeat. Liaoyang, Shaho… each a humiliation." His voice cracked like a whip. "Do you expect me to feed more men into his failures until the army is bled dry?"

Viktor Sakharov, who had replaced General Kuropatkin as Minister of War, gathered his courage and spoke. "Your Majesty, to replace General Kuropatkin in the midst of a campaign would be unwise. It is better to allow him to see it through. At the same time, we must impress upon him that the outcome of this war rests entirely on his shoulders. Such a burden should at least compel him to perform with greater resolve."

Nicholas remained silent, his expression unreadable as he weighed the words. The others in the room exchanged uneasy glances, yet none dared to interrupt, fearful of drawing the tsar's ire upon themselves. The silence stretched, heavy and suffocating, until Nicholas spoke, his voice firm though tinged with reluctance.

"Very well. Let him remain as field commander. But… If he still can't provide results. Then.." He didn't finish the sentence but everyone in the room understood his meaning.

They discussed their strategy and related issues for some time. The transportation of troops to the Far East placed a heavy burden on their logistics, as moving large numbers of soldiers was extremely difficult. Reinforcements could only be sent in limited quantities, which they identified as one of the reasons for their repeated defeats in the war. Yet, they could not devise a solution to the problem and were forced to continue under the same circumstances as the war dragged on.

When the room finally fell silent after exhausting their ideas for new strategies, Admiral Zinovy Petrovich Rozhestvensky of the Navy spoke.

"Your Majesty, if I may, we should dispatch the Baltic Fleet to the Pacific to aid in the war. A naval victory could help relieve some of the pressure on General Kuropatkin and, at the same time, support our forces in Port Arthur in lifting the siege. At present, we face no conflicts with our neighbors in the Baltic region, which would allow us to commit the fleet to the Pacific. Moreover, such a campaign would give our officers valuable combat experience."

Nicholas looked at Admiral Zinovy and mused, this man only wishes to take part in the war and distance himself from the politics of the court. He already knew that the admiral took no part in the power struggles among government officials, preferring instead to remain with his men and conduct naval exercises. Still, Nicholas disliked the proposal. Stripping the Baltic region of its defenses would leave them vulnerable should a war suddenly erupt with their neighbors, or worse, against them directly.

The proposal to send the Baltic Fleet to the Pacific, however, was met with a positive response from his advisors and generals. They argued that, since no conflict was likely to arise in the region, a portion of the idle ships, though not the entire fleet, could be dispatched against Japan. Such a move, they believed, would provide a strategic advantage and perhaps even enable a surprise attack that could deliver a crushing defeat to the enemy at sea. Nicholas considered the idea but remained undecided. Rubbing his temples, he said, "I will think about it. Any other matters?"

This time it was his minister of interior, Prince Pyotr Dmitrievich Sviatopolk-Mirsky, who spoke. "Aside from the war, your majesty. There is a growing unrest amongst our people, specifically the working class, they want better working conditions and fair treatment. The news of our successive defeats against Japan only worsens the situation. The revolutionaries are using it to fuel their propaganda for reforms. I think we need to address these as soon as possible to avoid revolts in the country."

Good God, could they bring him any good news instead of burdening him with one report of disaster after another? Just thinking about it gave him a splitting headache. He had already received countless reports about the growing unrest among his people but had chosen not to dwell on them. How many times had such reports crossed his desk since he ascended the throne? His grandfather had faced them, his father as well, and now it was his turn.

Yet this time, the unrest seemed more severe than any he had experienced before. It was fueled by news of defeats against Japan, which the revolutionaries eagerly exploited to turn the people against the government. Nicholas looked around at those gathered in the room and said heavily, "What do you all think about this? Give me solutions, not just problem after problem."

"I think we should arrest the instigators of this unrest, Your Majesty! They cannot be allowed to continue, we are currently at war," advised Konstantin Pobedonostsev, his chief procurator and longtime counselor.

Nicholas glanced at him, suppressing a sigh. Does he think I haven't already done that? He knew all too well that such measures were no solution. Despite the arrests, despite sending agitators into exile in Siberia, the unrest persisted, each wave of discontent swelling larger than the last.

"Anything else? Speak! We do not have all day," Nicholas demanded, his patience wearing thin. These meetings had become increasingly exhausting, a constant barrage of problems without answers. He longed for them to end, if only so he could steal a quiet moment with his newborn daughter, Anastasia, whose presence had been one of the few comforts in these troubled days.

One by one, his advisors and ministers spoke, offering their ideas and so-called solutions. Some recommended harsher crackdowns, others minor concessions to placate the discontented. Yet none of their proposals carried the weight of a true remedy.

Nicholas rubbed his temples and leaned back in his chair, listening to the rising murmur in the chamber. He could sense that even among his ministers, there was a division, some urged reform, others repression. The Emperor of All Russia sat in silence for a moment, wondering if any course remained that would not tear his empire apart.

In the end, not one of them could offer an idea that might mend the fracture spreading through the empire. Their words hung in the air, hollow and unsatisfying, like the echo of a prayer unanswered. Nicholas drummed his fingers on the polished table, the sharp rhythm cutting through the silence.

"I expect, at our next meeting, that each of you will present something to address this crisis, if not a cure, then at least a remedy to lessen it," he said, his voice cool and edged with fatigue. "Now go. I want some time alone."

He lifted his hand in dismissal. At once, the assembled men rose from their seats, the rustle of uniforms and the scrape of chairs filling the chamber. They bowed stiffly, their faces betraying unease, before filing out the gilded doors. One by one they disappeared, leaving behind only the fading echo of their footsteps in the cavernous hall.

Alone at last, Nicholas tried to piece together how matters had unraveled so gravely, but each thought only deepened his headache. He stopped thinking about it then and decided to visit his newly born daughter. He needs his stress reliever. With a slow breath, Nicholas rose from his chair, straightened his uniform, and walked toward the gilded doors. Boris and the guards fell in step behind him.

Before he could cross the door, he suddenly thought of someone and told his attendant, Boris, "Summon Witte back."

Boris, ever dutiful, answered, "Yes, your majesty."

—--

Once his father had left the room, Alexei exhaled a long, weary breath. He understood well the weight of his father's frustration, the war dragging on with no victories to ease the sting, and unrest gnawing at the very heart of the empire. Yet with ministers and advisors like those, men who could talk endlessly but conjure no real solutions, how could things be otherwise? Even Alexei, twice reborn, could hardly endure their endless circles of unproductive debate.

In his mind, only one path gleamed faintly as a possible remedy. If his father could bring himself to share power with the people, even a fraction of it, the burden might ease, and the storm of discontent might quiet. It would not solve everything, but it might lessen the bleeding wound that was tearing the empire apart.

But then Alexei shook his head with a bitter smile. His father had been raised in the iron mold of autocracy, steeped from birth in the doctrine of absolute rule. To Nicholas, power was not a mantle to be shared but a sacred inheritance entrusted by God. He would never yield it willingly, not unless he was driven into a corner with no escape.

Alexei stretched his limbs, feeling the stiffness that came from standing still for too long. His muscles protested at first, but after a few careful movements they loosened and warmed. Taking a quiet breath, he stepped into the dim corridor of the secret passage, the silence broken only by the faint creak of the floor beneath his boots. At the end of the passage, he opens the hidden door slightly, his eyes scanning the hall beyond.

Seeing no one in sight, he slipped out with the practiced caution, closing the door gently behind him until it vanished once more into the wall. Straightening his clothes, he set off to his room, his footsteps light and measured.

It did not take him long to reach his chamber. Once inside, Alexei lowered himself into a chair, the faint rustle of pages filling the quiet room as he opened a book on rifles and handguns. He traced the illustrations with his finger, lingering on the sleek lines of steel and wood, his eyes dark with yearning. For three years he had begged, waited, and hoped, pleading with his father and mother to let him fire a weapon. But it all ended up in denial. He could wait no longer. If they would not allow it, then he would take matters into his own hands.

The plan he had devised with Anna over the years would have to be carried out sooner than he had anticipated. The war and the unrest spreading throughout the empire seemed only to worsen, and he disliked it intensely. He had believed that his task was only to prepare for the world war to come and save his family from the revolutions that came with it. He had not expected the empire to be entangled in conflicts and turmoil even before the great war began. He should have studied history more carefully… Alexei shook his head. This was not the time for regret. He needed to focus on what lay before him, on what he had to do.

He closed the book, rose to his feet, and began a series of exercises. His body had been growing rapidly lately, and he found himself needing to reacquaint his form almost every week. Each new growth spurt altered his movements, making once-fluid techniques awkward to perform. It would have been better to wait until his body had settled and stopped growing, but time was not on his side.

Alexei threw himself into the exercises with single-minded focus. Even when a knock came at the door and it slowly opened, he did not pause. He already knew who would appear at this hour, and so he continued without distraction. Only after completing his fifth set did he finally stop, drawing in a deep breath.

He gave a curt nod to Sednev, then moved toward the drawer to fetch a towel. Wiping the sweat from his brow, he glanced back to find Sednev still standing there, staring at him in silence. Alexei arched an eyebrow in quiet question, and his attendant seemed to catch the signal.

Sednev coughed awkwardly before speaking, "Your exercises never fail to impress me, Your Highness. Every time I see you perform them, I'm amazed."

Alexei allowed a small smile. "I'm surprised you're still not used to it. You've been watching me since the first time you caught me training like this. How long has it been now? Two years? A year and a half?"

"Two years, Your Highness," Sednev corrected with a faint shake of his head. "And I still can't figure out who taught you these exercises or how you even know them. Don't tell me you learned all of this from the books. No one could move like that just from reading."

Sednev poured water into a cup and handed it to him. Alexei accepted it and drank quickly, the liquid easing his parched throat. After finishing, he shrugged his shoulders.

"Who knows?" he said lightly. "So then, what's the matter? Why are you here?"

Sednev took the cup from him and spoke, "Your father has requested your presence at dinner, Your Highness. We should go now, as it is nearly time for dinner."

"Alright. I'll wash up first." Alexei replied as he made his way to the bathroom.

It didn't take long for him to take a bath and get dressed. When he was sure he was ready, he nodded to Sednev, "Let's go." With that, they left the room.

They made their way toward the dining room, and upon entering, Alexei's eyes immediately fell on his father, who was cradling little Anastasia and making her laugh with playful gestures. If Alexei hadn't secretly listened and heard the state of the empire from their meetings. He would've thought that everything was okay and there was nothing to worry about. He scanned the room and saw that everyone had arrived, even his grandmother was present at this time. It seemed he was a little bit late.

"I'm sorry I'm late," he began, bowing slightly as he offered greetings to his father, mother, and grandmother.

"Brother, you're here! Come, sit beside me," Olga called out, her bright voice breaking through the formality. Always cheerful, she stood from her chair and tugged at his arm until he sank into the seat next to her. Alexei studied her with a faint smile, she was blossoming into a young woman, her beauty growing clearer with each passing year. It would not be long before her younger sisters followed suit.

He had thought that since he was born first, his parents would settle for a few children, but it seemed that he was mistaken, and now he has four sisters. Olga was the eldest amongst his sisters, followed by Tatiana then Maria and now there was Anastasia. He wondered if they still had it in them to continue reproducing. Maybe they were gunning up for a boy who would take over the title of tsarevich in case something happens to him.

It doesn't matter though, he would do everything he can to protect them. He greeted his other sisters. Tatiana was quiet as always, but he knows that if not for their parents around, she would do what she always was, being mischievous. Maria, who was born three years earlier was still clinging to their mother, as if afraid their mother would disappear. He didn't bother greeting Anastasia as she was still in his father's arms.

"Nicholas, that's enough. Let's eat now that everyone is here," his grandmother's firm voice cut through the gentle cooing of his father, who still cradled the infant in his arms.

His father reluctantly handed Anastasia to her wet nurse, then took his place at the table. His gaze immediately settled on Alexei. "What kept you so long?"

"I was reading," Alexei replied lightly, a smile tugging at his lips. "Besides, I wasn't informed beforehand that we would be dining together."

Nicholas blinked at him, caught between annoyance and amusement, before glancing toward his own wife. "You hear that? He speaks as though it's my fault he was late."

His mother, Alexandra, just rolled her eyes at his father, Alexei was sure she was not pleased that they were dining together with his grandmother. She was always silent whenever his grandmother was present.

Nicholas cleared his throat, straightening his back. "Anyway, let us pray."

The family said their prayers and began eating afterwards. They ate in silence until it was broken when his father looked at him and asked, "How was your lessons, Alexei."

"They're… fine," Alexei answered, his voice deliberately casual. His tutors had begun drilling into him the sacred doctrine of autocracy over the past year, its divine right, its holy trust from God, the unbroken chain of authority that bound their family to Russia itself.

At first, he had resisted, challenging their words with questions but it only earned him longer lecture time and stern reprimands from his father. Nicholas would always remind him that if he were to rule all of Russia one day. He needed to learn everything about autocracy that was entrusted to them by God. He thought it was stupid but he couldn't really do anything about it, so he played along and pretended to be listening to his tutors' teaching. His father is just beyond saving in his views.

Nicholas allowed himself a faint smile. "Good. Make sure you learn a lot."

Before Alexei could respond, his grandmother's voice cut in, warm but edged with disapproval. "Oh, give the child a break, Nicholas. We're eating."

That was enough to silence the Tsar, who reluctantly turned back to his meal. Then his grandmother flicked a quick, conspiratorial wink in his direction. He gave a discreet smile back before he too lowered his eyes to his plate and continued eating.

His grandmother, Maria, had been quietly instructing him in the subtle arts of court life ever since she returned from her travels. She often reminded him that true power lay not only in titles but in loyalty, and that if he were fortunate enough to find a loyal friend, he must treasure them above all else. Alexei had always wondered how she came to be so beloved, not only within the court but also among the common people. It seemed that her warm, approachable nature and effortless charm played no small part, qualities his own mother, for all her dignity, seemed to lack.

When the last course of dinner had been cleared away, Maria turned to Nicholas. "Where is Michael, by the way?" she asked with casual curiosity, though her eyes betrayed concern.

Nicholas shook his head. "I don't know. But I've had someone summon him back. Don't worry, Mother."

Maria sighed softly, her features clouded with worry. "That child," she murmured, still treating her grown son with the same concern as if he were a boy.

Before Alexei could excuse himself, he suddenly felt two pairs of small hands clamp onto his arms. Olga and Tatiana had flanked him, their faces bright with mischief.

"What is it?" he asked, raising a brow at them.

Olga looked up at him with wide, pleading eyes. "Promise you'll play with us tomorrow, brother. You haven't played with us in such a very, very long time."

"I played with you just the other day," Alexei protested.

"It feels like forever ago," Olga insisted, her voice almost a whimper. "Please?"

He looked at his sisters and sighed inwardly. In truth, he could never resist Olga's antics, nor Tatiana's quiet persistence. At last, he gave a small nod. "Alright."

The girls let out a cheerful cry, their delight filling the room.

Across the table, Nicholas, Alexandra, and Maria watched the exchange with faint smiles, clearly pleased to see the children so close to one another.

With that settled, Alexei requested permission to leave early, citing the need to study. Nicholas gave a brief nod of approval. Rising from his seat, Alexei offered his farewells before slipping out of the dining room, his footsteps echoing softly against the marble floor.

When he returned to his room, Alexei instructed Sednev and Nagorny not to disturb him, explaining that he intended to study until he fell asleep. Both attendants, well accustomed to their tsarevich's habits by now, gave a respectful nod in response.

Once the door closed behind him, Alexei changed his clothes for darker garments. He then settled with a book in hand, reading quietly to pass the time as he waited for the night to deepen.

—---

Alexei crouched low atop the highest point he could reach in St. Petersburg, the Peter and Paul Cathedral. From this perch, the city unfolded beneath him like a vast, restless organism. But instead of breathing air, it exhaled thick smoke from chimneys, drifting upward in ghostly veils. Below, the narrow streets glowed faintly under the watch of flickering gas lamps and electric lights. Their light casting long, wavering shadows across the cobblestones. A few figures still lingered in the dead of night, merchants hauling late deliveries, drunks staggering from taverns, and politsiya pacing their lonely rounds.

He rose, steadying himself against the cool night air, and began making his way down to the rooftops of the nearby buildings. Moving carefully, he crossed from one roof to the next, watching the city shift beneath him. The scenery changed as he ventured farther, solid, well-kept houses gave way to crooked wooden shacks pressed tightly together. Their roofs sagged beneath the weight of age and neglect, damp shingles giving off the faint smell of rot. He hesitated before leaping across, but forced himself to test their strength. Someday, he might need these very rooftops as his escape route, and it was better to know now whether they would hold.

Step by step, Alexei moved over the uneven tiles, dry leaves crunching softly beneath his boots. He advanced from rooftop to rooftop, deliberate and silent, until at last he reached his destination. With a final leap, he landed lightly, crouched, and then dropped down to the street below. He scanned his surroundings, ensuring no one had followed, before striding to the well kept door.

Lifting his hand, he knocked in a coded rhythm. He could still hear a few chattering inside, even though it was late into the night. Then, with a faint creak, the door opened. Without hesitation, Alexei slipped inside and drew it shut behind him.

Alexei glanced at the figure who opened the door and gave a small smile. "Oh, it's you, Nikolai. You're not asleep yet?"

Nikolai grinned. "No, I'm the one on watch tonight. Maybe later, when Oskar wakes up to relieve me."

Alexei patted him on the shoulder. "That's good. Keep up the work. Where's Anna?"

"She's upstairs in the meeting room, teaching Stepan and the others their mathematics," Nikolai replied, gesturing upward.

"And the others, why are they not asleep yet?" Alexei asked, tilting his head toward the children still awake and chatting, their small forms huddled beneath worn blankets on the floor.

Nikolai followed his gaze and scratched the back of his head. "Well, Sister Anna hasn't come down yet to check on them. Don't worry, master, they'll fall asleep once she does."

Noticing Alexei, the children waved excitedly. He returned the gesture with a smile, then raised his hands to the side of his head, mimicking a sleeping posture. The little ones understood, grinning as they began settling down to sleep.

Nikolai let out a soft chuckle. "Or… they'll sleep now."

Seeing them finally preparing for rest, Alexei nodded. "I'll head up, then. Make sure you don't fall asleep yourself."

"Don't worry," Nikolai said with a broad grin, straightening his posture as though on parade. "I'll guard the door with my life." He stood proud, carrying the air of someone shaped by the same discipline Alexei had instilled in his first students.

"Good." Alexei gave an approving nod before making his way upstairs.

He found Anna and several of the children gathered in the meeting room, but he did not interrupt them, instead he made a small, discreet gesture for Anna to continue. Taking a seat by the window outside, Alexei watched the moon suspended like a pale coin over the city and let his thoughts drift to the years behind them, the recruiting of orphan boys and girls, the skirmishes with troublemakers bold enough to challenge them, the endless scrabble to find food themselves. The road had been anything but smooth, yet somehow they had built something from the struggles.

The children they had taken in now numbered over fifty, perhaps sixty, if his memory served. That was why some slept on the floor, as there were not enough beds for all. At first he was hesitating in recruiting so many children but Anna had persuaded him otherwise. These children will eventually be recruited by the city's gangs, condemned to a life of theft, violence, or worse, perhaps even raised up one day as enemies he would have to confront. So, he decided to take them all as long as they followed the rules he laid down. To his surprise, they did. The promise of food and shelter, scarce commodities in their world, was enough to temper their wildness and keep them in line.

Anna, to his surprise, had a natural gift for managing the children. She handled almost everything. From organizing the daily routines he had outlined, to assigning tasks to keep them from idleness, and even taking charge of their lessons. Under her patient guidance, the children learned to read, to write, and to grasp the basics of mathematics, skills that would give them more than knowledge, offering a sense of dignity and a glimpse of a future beyond the streets.

Some of the children were even older than Anna, yet years of hunger and hardship had left them looking smaller, weaker, and far more worn. Over time, however, the change became visible. With regular meals and the exercises he had devised, the children began to grow stronger, their once-thin frames slowly filling out with muscle. They took to both the training and the lessons with unexpected enthusiasm, as though grateful not only for the food and shelter but also for the security of the future that had been so long denied to them. Of course, there were some that showed despicable behaviour, but they were swiftly expelled by him and Anna as an example.

Still, it was not easy for him either. Providing food required money, and for a time, he had resorted to stealing valuables from the palace. But that, too, had to end. His last heist ended up in failure, as he had killed Andrei. The man had been awake when Alexei came for the keys to the repository, clearly waiting for him. When Andrei's body was discovered, the palace was thrown into uproar. From that moment, Alexei knew he had to find other means, as stealing from the palace was no longer possible.

Eventually, he had found a way to sustain themselves, the city's dump site. There, they could gather items still worth selling. He dealt with the small gang of children who had once controlled the area, and with Anna's persuasion, some of them even joined their ranks. From then on, the dump site became theirs. They scavenged for salvageable goods and charged slum households a small fee to dispose of unwanted belongings. Before long, they even secured cleaning contracts from several homes in wealthier districts, earning just enough to keep everyone fed and clothed for months.

Still, problems arose from time to time. Jealous groups tried to take the work they had struggled so hard to secure. But each attempt ended the same, handled swiftly by him. Some rivals ended up dead, others crippled. Soon, word spread. Their growing reputation led to whispers that they must have the protection of powerful groups from other districts of the city.

But he knew, once the powerful groups or gangs began seeing the profitable venture they had made. They would eventually move to take over the work they had worked so hard to secure. He would have to prepare for that, or rather, his little band of minions would have to. He couldn't handle everything alone forever. Slowly, carefully, he needed to teach them how to face problems like this on their own.

"What are you thinking about?" Anna approached and sat down across from him.

"Problems. You're done?" Alexei watched the children as they filed out of the room, each greeted him as they made their way to their sleeping quarters.

"It's late. Some of them still have work tomorrow," Anna said, following his gaze. A small smile touched her lips as the last child left then looked back at him. "So? what's the problem?"

"Not here." Alexei rose and walked towards the room the children had left. When he was sure it was empty, he motioned for Anna to follow and closed the door softly behind them.

She sank into a chair "What is it?"

He hesitated for a moment, then said, "We may have to move our plans up. The situation is getting worse."

Anna's brow knit with worry. "We're not ready yet. The groups we have to take on aren't easy. I thought we agreed to wait for three more years, until we have the people and the resources to control the whole district."

"I know." Alexei rubbed his forehead, a habit he'd taken from his father. "But we don't have a choice. The city is growing restless. I want at least our district to be secure and safe before it gets worse."

Anna studied him carefully, as if trying to decide whether that was truly his only reason or he had more. A dozen questions lingered on the tip of her tongue, but she pushed them aside, trust was all she could offer him now. Leaning back slightly, her voice softened though her eyes remained sharp. "Do you still plan to bring my brothers, and a few of the others, to the fights that will happen?"

He considered that, then replied, "I'll ask them if they want to. But I won't let them fight yet, they still lack the strength. Maybe in a few years."

Anna exhaled, relief softening her features. "Good. When do we start?"

Alexei's gaze hardened. "As soon as possible."

 

[ImperatorXCV]

December 5, 1904

"Who? Who destroyed my establishments?" Konstantin roared inside his study. He had been enjoying a prosperous year, even in these troubled times. Despite the unrest in the city and the war consuming the country, his business, underground betting, and gambling dens, were flourishing. People always found their way to his establishments when they were desperate, grieving, or simply seeking pleasure.

But the news that greeted him upon his return from vacation shattered that prosperity. His men from the slums brought word of disaster, his establishments there had been attacked. His gambling den, his pleasure house, and even one of his warehouses where he stored his goods, had been struck. The thought of it sent his blood pressure soaring. Rage boiled inside him. He wanted to rip apart whoever had dared to cross him. Yet he didn't even know who they were.

Once he forced himself to calm down, he rose and began pacing across the study, heavy steps shaking the floorboards. Who could it be? Rivals? No, no, no. Not now. In these times, they knew better than to stir trouble, not with the politsiya and the Okhrana prowling the city on high alert. They would never risk bringing that kind of heat on themselves. He considered old grudges, past enemies, but none seemed bold, or foolish, enough to strike him like this.

The slum establishments was only one of many he owned in the city, but it was one of his biggest, one of the most profitable. That den had never been touched by the politsiya or the Okhrana, they didn't care about the slums. That was why it had grown so lucrative, so secure. Until now.

He stopped pacing and glared at the men before him, his eyes narrowing. "When? And how did it happen?"

When they hesitated, his temper exploded again. "Speak! How did this happen? Who did it?" His roar shook the room, and he had to pause, gasping for breath, his large belly heaving with each ragged inhale.

At last, one of his henchmen, Ivan, gathered enough courage to step forward. "It happened last month, my lord," he began nervously. "At first, we thought it was one of our rivals from another district. We confronted them, warned them, but they swore it wasn't them. We didn't believe it at first, but then the attacks continued. We even set men to watch their movements, but they made none. That's when we realized something wasn't right."

"We began to suspect the politsiya, that maybe they were targeting us. But the ones we bribed swore they knew nothing of it. They only warned us to stay low. Still, the attacks didn't stop. They kept ransacking our establishments in the slums, one after another. Even the reinforcement from other districts didn't dissuade them to stop. And then, last night, they struck our last stronghold there. They killed every man inside. We were lucky to escape, boss, lucky enough to bring you this news."

Ivan bowed deeply, trembling as he finished.

Konstantin sat down heavily in his seat, creating a loud thud across the room. His men flinched at that. He tapped the armrest of his seat and began thinking about who could do something like this. Destroying his hard work like it was nothing but an eyesore to them. They didn't even spare his men. After a while he spoke angrily, "Why was not I informed the first thing something like this happened? You guys know where I was having a vacation. Why can't you guys send someone to inform me?"

Ivan, seeing that his boss did not lash out, spoke more confidently, though the tremor in his voice was still there. "It was Fyodor who insisted we shouldn't disturb your vacation, boss. He said you had barely taken a break in ten years and that we should handle this ourselves. But when we failed to stop the attacks and finally decided to tell you, it was already too late. We were struck again and again until yesterday, when we were nearly annihilated. Thankfully, you returned earlier than expected. You can solve this problem like you always do." He forcefully smiled as he finished.

What Ivan and his comrades did not dare confess was that the attacks had all been carried out by a single man. Even he, a seasoned fighter, had not believed it at first. But after witnessing the chaos and slaughter during the attack of one of their establishments, he had been left shaken to the core. The man's speed, precision, and ferocity were unlike anything he had seen before. Ivan, who prided himself on his strength, had been the first to flee when the fighting turned against them.

"And where is he now? Why is he not here?" Konstantin asked through gritted teeth.

"He's dead, boss. He was struck with a knife in the head while we were fleeing," one of his men replied.

Konstantin's hand tightened around his cup before hurling it straight at the speaker. The poor lad barely had time to flinch before it smashed against his forehead.

"Ugh!" The man collapsed to the floor, bleeding.

Konstantin didn't spare him a glance. Fury consumed him as he swept everything within reach from his desk, sending papers, ledgers, and ink crashing to the ground. Fyodor was his nephew, the last family he had left in this world. He had promised his dying sister that he would protect her son, and now… now he was gone. Grief and rage clawed at his chest until he could scarcely breathe. His business was under attack, his men slaughtered, and now this.

He forced himself to draw in deep, ragged breaths. At last, his voice rasped, "Where is his body?"

Ivan glanced at his comrades. None dared to lift their heads, much less speak. With no choice, he stepped forward. "We… we haven't recovered it yet."

Konstantin's eyes narrowed, his hand twitching toward the desk for another object to throw.

Ivan quickly blurted, "I'll send someone to retrieve his body right away!" He turned toward the door, moving as fast as he could, desperate to escape before Konstantin's wrath found him.

But just as his hand reached for the handle, the door slammed open. Ivan froze, his eyes widening in shock at the figure before him. Before he could utter a single word, a knife buried itself in his temple.

Konstantin choked back the words he was about to hurl at Ivan as he watched him collapse to the floor. He hadn't even processed what had happened when chaos erupted. His men shouted in panic, some lunged at the intruder, while others scrambled for the door as though they had seen a demon.

But the figure moved like a phantom. One by one, his men dropped where they stood. Those who tried to flee didn't even make it past the doorway before their bodies fell lifeless to the ground. The movements were so swift, so precise, that by the time Konstantin regained his senses, the study was littered with corpses.

A sudden warmth spread down his legs as his bladder gave way. Staggering backward, he stared at the intruder with wide, trembling eyes, terror gripping him like a vice.

When the intruder finished surveying the room and turned to him, he spat, "Who… are you? My men will be here any moment. You're dead." He clung to the desperate hope that reinforcements would burst through the door and buy him time to escape.

Trying to stall as he waited for his men, he suddenly remembered the revolver at his side. With trembling hands, he reached for it, but before he could draw, a knife buried itself deep into his shoulder. He let out a sharp cry of pain. Desperately, he reached again and managed to pull the revolver free, but before he could aim, the intruder was already upon him, driving a brutal kick into his gut.

"Ugh." He doubled over, vomiting up the food he had eaten that evening. When he was done, the intruder yanked him upright and dragged him back toward his seat behind the desk. The intruder then picked up a fallen chair, set it down, and calmly sat on it. Without even sparing him a glance, the intruder began to whistle. He couldn't tell how much time had passed until the intruder finally glanced at the clock on the wall and said, "Has that been enough time for you to realize no one is coming to save you?"

Dread consumed him. Now he knew he was a dead man. His only hope was that the intruder might grant him a painless death. He knew it was hypocritical to even wish for that, he had never shown mercy to his own enemies, ensuring their ends were slow and agonizing. But now, facing the other side of that cruelty, he could not bear the thought of suffering the same fate. Still, before death claimed him, he needed to know what sin had brought this demon upon him.

"What have I done to you? Who are you?" he asked, his voice trembling.

The intruder remained silent, staring at him as though he were nothing more than an insect. At last, a deep, chilling voice rumbled from the intruder, making him shiver.

"No one."

He understood then that this was no man for games, bluster would not save him. So he begged, voice hollow with surrender, "Please…. give me a swift death."

The intruder inclined his head once. "Answer my question first."

A cold acceptance settled over him. He nodded slowly, the last of his defiance draining away. With aching limbs and a hot knife buried in his shoulder, he eased himself into the chair as best as he could and clutched the wound, every movement a reminder that escape was no longer possible. Hope had left him; only a dull, inevitable waiting remained.

"Where do you hide all your money?" the intruder asked, eyes boring into him. He knew that look, an interrogator who would know a lie before it left his lips, so he told the truth. "There is a hidden door behind that painting," he said, nodding toward the canvas.

The intruder rose, pulled the painting from the wall, and revealed the small secret door. "Stand up and open it," he ordered.

Konstantin gritted his teeth and rose slowly. He crossed the room, worked the hook where the painting had hung, and felt the latch click. As the door swung open, his hoard lay exposed, rubbles, coins, small amounts of silver and gold bars, and the hard-won treasures he had amassed over the years. He glanced at the intruder. "This is all I have."

The intruder peered into the recess but did not begin to gather the cache. "Bring me that gold bar," he said flatly.

For a flash, the urge to strike flared in Konstantin, no one had dared to order him like that. But the terror of what he had witnessed stilled him. He stepped into the alcove, lifted a heavy bar of gold, and handed it over.

"You promised to give me a swift dea….." he began, but the sentence died on his lips. Darkness closed over him before he could finish.

—-

Alexei frowned as he looked at the body on the floor. This was the first gang boss he had killed, and to his surprise, it had been so easy. He hoped the others would be the same. Tearing his eyes away from the corpse, he turned to the small treasure before him and allowed a faint smile to form behind his mask. At last, he had seed money for his future endeavors in the shadows.

He whistled, and the minions who had accompanied him throughout the fighting appeared at the door. They hadn't truly fought, they only watched as he carried out the killings and then looted whatever they could find in the establishments they attacked. Still, he hoped it was enough for them to understand what their future would be.

"Find some sacks and pack these things first," he ordered, gesturing toward the small room. When his minions saw what was inside, they broke into celebration. Wide smiles spread across their faces, and Alexei found it amusing. They knew they would not feel the hunger of the past with what lay before them.

After their brief celebration, they set to work. With experience from previous lootings, they moved with practiced efficiency and organization. It didn't take long for them to finish packing before they began searching the rest of the house for anything else they could carry. When Alexei finally called for them, they gathered and departed together.

—---

Alexei sat down and drew the revolver he had looted. It wasn't anything fancy, but as long as it worked, he was satisfied. He couldn't help but smile, his parents had been so strict about him owning a revolver or a rifle, yet a single sweep through the slums had yielded five revolvers and three rifles, ammunition included. At last he could practice firing in secret, without them knowing.

He slipped the revolver back into the latch at his side and drew it again, repeating the motion until the posture came naturally. He knew that a faster draw would give him the edge against his future opponents. He only stopped when he heard the door open.

Anna came in with a thick stack of documents in her hands. She set them down on the desk in front of him and sat opposite him. She exhaled heavily, a sigh of both relief and exhaustion. "You're giving me so much work. I don't know if I can keep up with this workload."

Alexei smiled. "You have plenty of little secretaries helping you. I know you can handle it. Besides, look at the bright side, the children won't go hungry anymore. You can also start recruiting those we turned away before, when we didn't have enough food and money."

He knew she loved her work. It was just that things had been hectic lately because of the campaign he pushed forward, even though they hadn't been fully prepared. Fortunately, the campaign had gone smoothly. They had even come away with gold bars and a large sum of money. Still, he couldn't understand how the weakest gang in the city had managed to get their hands on gold bars. All he could do now was hope that no one would come looking for them.

Anna glared at him before organizing the stack of documents she had brought. "This one details how much money you guys have looted, and this one…" She began handing him each document in turn, and Alexei scanned them one by one.

He had to make sure everything was accurate and properly organized. He needed to establish a solid foundation for structuring their operations, especially as their fledgling organization continued to grow. Order was essential if they were to move forward, and he was determined not to let it become a loose, chaotic group.

When they finished, Alexei leaned back and couldn't help but chuckle. "Ten gold bars and a hundred seventy thousand rubles. That's a lot."

"Of course it's a lot! This is the first time we've ever seen gold bars. We could buy a house bigger than this, not just one but ten times over if we wanted." Anna said excitedly.

The fact that they still hadn't bought the house they were living in was always a concern for her, especially since the landlord constantly tried to raise the rent whenever he saw how many children crowded inside. Fortunately, with what they had now, they could easily afford it, or even buy the house outright if the landlord tried again.

"Make sure the children are tight lipped about this. We can't let this matter spread. We don't know whether those we attacked had ties to the larger gangs in the city. We can't afford to fight them yet." Alexei warned, the gold bars already ringing alarm bells in his head.

"Don't worry. Only your trusted minions and my little secretaries know," Anna replied, her tone grave.

"Good." Alexei nodded.

"And what shall we do with the money? What about the establishments the gang left behind?" Anna asked.

Alexei hadn't truly decided what to do with the money yet.

After a moment, he began, "As for the money, use some of it for living expenses first. I know you're already thinking about the children we turned away, start recruiting them, but be sure they understand what they are joining. For the establishments, let the uproar we caused die down first. Then we'll move in and manage them once we're confident we're not suspected. We'll see how it goes from there."

Anna nodded slowly. "Alright, but are you sure you want to continue their business? I mean, the pleasure house and the gambling den? It's risky." She had seen what the girls endured in the pleasure house, and she hated it. The thought of carrying on such a trade sat heavy in her chest. Besides, neither of them had any real experience managing places like that.

"These businesses are already part of our society," Alexei replied firmly. "Do you think if we don't run them, others won't move in and build their own pleasure houses and gambling dens? They will, and our efforts these past months will be in vain if they gain a foothold in what we considered our territory. That's why I think it's better if we take control. That way, we can set the rules for the establishments ourselves. In fact, we don't even need to run them directly, we can just collect a protection fee and let others manage them. We only need to make sure the new owners are residents of our territory."

Anna bit her lip, torn. She despised the idea of continuing such businesses, but Alexei's words made sense. If outsiders moved in, things could turn out even worse for the people under their care. Still, the thought of running such establishments gnawed at her.

Alexei, on the other hand, felt the weight of pragmatism settle on him. He didn't like these businesses either, but power came with hard choices. To him, securing control was the only way forward, morality be damned.

Seeing that Anna remained silent, Alexei continued, "How about this, when the time comes, you can set the rules you considered acceptable. For example, not forcing women to work in such places if they don't want to. You can start with that."

Anna felt a small weight lift off her chest. She still disliked the idea, but at least Alexei was willing to give her some say in shaping it. The thought of protecting even a few women from coercion gave her a sliver of hope.

That was enough to make her reply. "Okay."

Alexei exhaled quietly, relieved that she had at least agreed to compromise. He knew she struggled with his decisions, and part of him feared she might resent him for it. Hearing her acceptance reassured him, even if it was reluctant.

"Any other matters you wish to discuss?" he asked.

Anna shook her head. "No, that's all."

She wanted to bring up a hundred more worries, but she knew he was already carrying so much on his shoulders. Better to save them for later than to burden him now.

"Then, are your brothers and the others asleep?" Alexei asked.

"They're still talking downstairs last time I checked," Anna replied.

She wondered what Alexei planned to tell them. Whenever he called her brothers into a serious discussion, she always worried it meant new responsibilities, or new dangers.

"Can you call them here, please, if they're still not sleeping? I have something to talk to them about," Alexei requested.

"Alright." Anna stood up and began gathering the documents on the table.

He watched her work in silence, appreciating her diligence. Without Anna, he knew the organization would already be falling apart. She wasn't just secretary material, she was the one keeping everything grounded.

After she finished, she nodded to Alexei and walked out. It didn't take long before his minions arrived.

"Master, we're here," Sergey announced as he walked in with his twin brother Ivan, followed closely by the others.

Alexei straightened in his chair. Seeing them ready and loyal gave him confidence. They were young, yes, but they were the seeds of the force he was building.

"Find some chairs to sit on, the others will have to stand, sorry for that" Alexei said.

"No need to worry, Master. This is nothing compared to the training lately," Ivan replied, settling into a seat.

Alexei had recently increased the difficulty of their training. He had no choice, he was moving forward with his plans.

"What did you make of what you witnessed?" Alexei asked. He needed to know how they felt about the killings he had carried out. He would not keep men who could not share his views, those who disagreed could be sent to Anna or reassigned to the jobs they have in the slums.

"You're amazing, Master. I don't know how you move like that. Do you think we can be like you?" Sergey answered, excitement bright in his voice, clearly not understanding the danger they would face if they were the ones fighting.

Alexei's tone turned serious. "I'm not talking about me. I'm talking about the fighting and the killings I did." His stare made Sergey uneasy, Ivan watched Sergey with a faint, amused smile.

After a moment, Ivan spoke up. "I think it was too bloody, Master. There were times we thought you might be stabbed or shot, but you still managed to kill them. It was dangerous."

Alexei nodded at that, pleased that Ivan understood the danger he had put himself in. He then looked at the others, especially Nikolai and Oskar, the eldest in the room at sixteen years old. They had been the first to join the group, barely surviving the hunger when Anna found them. In their childhood, they had worked at the docks but were eventually forced out by their rivals.

"I think the same as Ivan, Master. It was too dangerous and too bloody," Nikolai said when Alexei met his gaze. The first time they had seen their master's slaughter at the first establishment, many of them had been sickened, some had even thrown up. A few had quit outright after the second attack. Nikolai had seen death before, but this was another level entirely, he was both shocked and oddly grateful to train under someone like Alexei.

"Right. I think so, too," Alexei agreed. He refused to soften the reality of what lay ahead of them. He wanted them to see what they would be doing before he taught them the art of killing. He needed decisiveness and commitment, hesitation would only get them killed.

When no one else spoke, Alexei explained why he had called them together. He intended to intensify their training, and backing out would no longer be an option. Anyone with doubts or hesitation was to leave the room immediately.

Fortunately, no one left. There were only fifteen of them now. At first, there had been twenty-five, but many were filtered out after failing to stomach the bloody scenes they had witnessed. Alexei then told them that training would begin the next day and urged them to rest, warning that he would not go easy on them. After saying their goodbyes, they left the room.

Left alone, Alexei sighed. He hoped that none of them would back out once they experienced the brutal training he planned to introduce. Standing up, he stretched and checked the time, noticing that dawn was nearly upon him. Deciding to go home, he walked out of the room and found Anna talking with his brothers, clearly trying to learn what had been discussed. But he didn't bother with it.

"I need to go now. You guys should get some sleep. You still have work in the morning," Alexei said.

Anna looked at him with a complicated expression. "Okay. You take care too."

Alexei nodded, then reached out to rub the twins' heads one by one. They were two years older than him, but he towered over them.

"Listen to your sister always, hmm?" Alexei said.

"Always, master," Sergey answered eagerly, while Ivan only nodded in silence.

With one final rub of their heads, Alexei turned and left.

 

[ImperatorXCV]

January 22, 1905

It had been a week since they arrived at Tsarskoye Selo. Officially, the family claimed they wanted time together, away from the court, but Alexei knew the truth. His father was once again fleeing from his responsibilities, while the unrest throughout the empire spiraled out of control. Across Russia, strikes and rallies by workers intensified as demands for better rights and working conditions grew louder. Some even called for limits on autocratic rule, urging the Tsar to share his power and establish a representative legislative body. Yet how could his father agree to such reforms? Nicholas II remained convinced that it was his sacred, divine right as monarch to rule with absolute authority. Alexei really wanted to know who brainwashed his father to such an extent. He would surely give him a medal for that.

The news and bits of gossip he overheard around the palace spoke of striking workers and their families marching toward the Winter Palace. He didn't know how his father would handle the protest, since he could no longer eavesdrop on discussions here as he had in the Winter Palace. All he could do was hope it would end quickly, and that his father still had the presence of mind to resolve the crisis.

Alexei was seated at his desk, pen moving steadily across the page, when his sister Olga burst in, her voice brimming with excitement. "What are you writing, brother? Is it a story? Like Frozen?"

He looked down at her with a soft chuckle. His sisters had been pestering him for more tales ever since he first recited one a few nights ago. On their first evening after arriving, when none of them could sleep, he had told them the story of Frozen. To his own surprise, he still remembered nearly every detail of the plot.

"Yes. It's the same story, but with more details than the one I read to you," Alexei replied, ruffling Olga's hair.

That bedtime tale he had told his sisters had sparked the idea of writing his own novels. Technically, he was plagiarizing stories from the future, because why shouldn't he? It would be a waste not to use the knowledge he still remembered. More importantly, he could reshape those stories and make them his own. In his version, the characters bore the names of his sisters, Olga and Tatiana, with two more added for Maria and Anastasia. That way, it would be far less troublesome to explain where his inspirations came from.

He knew how much these IPs would generate in the future once the film industry matured. For now, he only hoped his plagiarized novels would gain traction and be embraced by the public, especially overseas. All he needed was to convince his parents to buy him a publishing house, or establish one for his own purposes. That was why he had been writing this story in the first place, to present it as part of his business proposal. He wasn't an expert writer, but in time he could always hire editors and ghostwriters to bring his ideas to life.

"Really? Can I read it?" Olga eagerly reached for the papers on the table, but Alexei stopped her.

"Not yet. It's not finished. I promised that you and Tatiana would be the first to read it once I'm done."

Olga pouted at that. She couldn't wait to see it, but when she noticed her brother's eyes narrowing, she quickly yielded. Sometimes, she thought her brother could be scarier than their parents when angry. Widening her eyes, she put on her most pitiful, cute look and said, "Okay. But you have to read us another story tonight. Please?" She wasn't about to back down without getting something in return.

Alexei sighed. His sisters had learned exactly how to bargain with him. It wasn't as though their request was excessive, so he always relented. "Alright. But make sure all of you sleep together tonight, so I won't have to repeat the same story again and again."

"Yes!" Olga cried triumphantly, waving her hands in the air before dashing off to share the good news with her sisters.

Alexei shook his head, watching her retreat with a faint smile.

He decided then that he would make his sisters the protagonists of his first few stories. Not only would that earn him points as a good brother, but it would also serve as a clever way to persuade his parents to publish his future novels. After all, what parent wouldn't be delighted to see their children cast as the main characters of the story? Hopefully, that alone would be enough to win them over.

The thought of comic books and strips crossed his mind next. Were they already gaining traction overseas? If not, he could make a fortune by being the first to publish the popular comics and manga he still remembered from his first life. The very thought made him giddy. Who wouldn't want more wealth? Unfortunately, news from abroad was hard to come by unless he asked his parents or those around them directly, and that always risked raising unwanted questions.

One step at a time, he reminded himself. First, he needed the publishing house, everything else could expand from there.

Still, he had his worries. If the current populace would accept the ideas and humor of the future. What if they wouldn't? Alexei shook off that thought. There's no need to get ahead of himself.
Alexei kept writing even when Sednev arrived.

"Sorry to disturb your writing, Your Highness. It's time for lunch," Sednev said, leading the maids as they laid out the food on the dining table.

Alexei only glanced at them, continuing his work until he finished the section he felt was enough for the day. When he finally looked up, the maids were gone, only Sednev remained.

Rising from his chair, Alexei walked to the dining table. "Do you have any news about the protest today, Sednev?" he asked as he picked up his food and began to eat.

"There's no news yet, Your Highness," Sednev replied.

"Hmmm." Alexei ate in silence, finishing quickly. After wiping his mouth, he looked at Sednev. "How about some gossip? The people coming from the city? Did they share anything?"

Sednev's expression grew grave. He hesitated before answering. "The palace is in lock down, your highness. But I heard from a scouting party that just returned from the city, they reported hearing gunfire. I don't know any more than that, Your Highness. We should wait before drawing conclusions."

Alexei's brows furrowed. The situation seemed to be growing more dangerous. He couldn't recall if this protest had taken place in his first life, the only thing he remembered clearly was the revolution during the Great War. All he could do now was hope the unrest would pass and that his family would endure these uncertain times.

Even so, it was best to prepare an escape route in case matters grew worse. He wasn't sure if his father had arranged anything of the sort, but he certainly would.

Alexei gave a small nod. "Thank you, Sednev."

"Anything for you, Your Highness." Sednev bowed slightly before leaving, soon returning with the maids in tow. Together, they cleared the cutlery and tidied the table.

Alexei observed in silence until the work was done. Sednev and the maids offered their goodbyes and departed, leaving him alone at last.

Restlessness drove him to pace the room. He could only hope nothing grave was unfolding in the city. His little organization was still in its growth phase, even the smallest upheaval could turn all his efforts to dust. The thought of starting again from the beginning was something he could not bear. Especially when he grew fond of his little minions' antics and their cheerful faces.

The days following the chaos he had stirred caused quite a commotion in the slums. The incident drew both the politsiya and the Okhrana to investigate the massacre. Fortunately for him, their inquiry did not run deep, as the victims were quite known to be troublemakers themselves. Even so, their death brought about disorder for several days before things finally subsided.

The residents of the slums grew restless after such a massacre occurred so close to them, worried for their own safety. Luckily, the stability that followed eventually put them at ease. The harassment and coercion that had once been prominent in their area suddenly disappeared, replaced by calm and quiet, as no one dared to cause trouble while the politsiya and Okhrana were still investigating.

When the investigation ended, some people tried to encroach on the vacant territory and establishments left behind by the previous gang. A few even came from distant districts, attempting to assert their dominance in the area, but they were eventually killed under mysterious circumstances. After that, the encroachments gradually declined until they disappeared altogether.

However, restlessness soon returned when former workers and prostitutes found themselves without employment, as many establishments remained locked down by the authorities. Without their work, they couldn't feed their families. Some of the prostitutes even resorted to selling their bodies on the streets.

The sight of people desperate for work and food, of women forced back onto the streets, left a sour taste in his mouth. He knew what was going to happen when he decided to act. The cause and effect for the future he envisioned would not always be positive. There will always be collateral damage and this is just one of them. Still, he hardened his resolve.

Alexei decided it was time to intervene and act when desperation was at its height. He gathered the former workers of the gambling dens and brothels, along with prominent figures from the slums. They were cautious at first, unsure of his intentions, some even questioned why a masked man of unknown origin had the guts to order them to gather. He didn't really order them but more like he sent an invitation through his minions that he had a way to give them work. But some really like to just cause trouble and wouldn't listen. He was forced to kill a few to silence the rest and made them listen.

He offered them a deal to open their own businesses under his protection and rules. He even offered them loans and showed them the money. Some were quite skeptical of the offer. Some were eager to try just to get their hands on the money he had shown. But hesitated when he threatened them that they would die if they tried something funny. He told them that the moment they accepted the offer, they couldn't back out and betrayal means death. That got the gathering at a stalemate. Some even left but he didn't stop them. What he needed was people who had guts to embrace the hand of the devil.

After some questioning and inquiries from them in which he answered as honestly as possible. They gave in. Desperation eventually won out. The rest were handled by his masked minions.

He even used the gathering to recruit grown men to form a new gang that would be the face of his new organization. He couldn't use his minions in broad daylight. He trained them to be lethal and deadly, not some thugs who handled petty fights. They were more useful in the dark where they could use their skills more efficiently.

The recruitment for the Jackals, the name he had chosen for his gang, proved surprisingly popular among the children, youth and middle-aged men alike. The growing unrest among workers had forced many factory owners to lay off employees and halt new hiring. They preferred to wait out the turmoil before resuming production. As a result, unemployment soared.

Many of the jobless drifted toward rallies, revolutionary groups, or other unsavory circles such as gangs, bandits, and syndicates. Still, not everyone managed to join, competition for any form of livelihood was fierce. That was why, when word spread that he was recruiting, many rushed to enlist, especially after learning that he offered regular pay and commissions for every completed task. They didn't bother whether what he offered was true or not. They clung only into hope that they could soon feed themselves and their family.

Alexei stopped pacing around the room and decided that he would visit the city that night to check on his people. It would take him no more than thirty minutes to run from the estate to the city, assuming the weather favored him.

He checked his room for any unwanted people and locked the door. After that, he sat cross legged in his bed to cultivate. It wouldn't be long before he reached level three in his body cultivation, which would make him stronger than the average person. His cultivation had been stuck to level 2 body cultivation since he was five years old and it took him another five years to reach another level. He wondered how much longer it would take to reach the middle stages, knowing a bottleneck awaited him to reach there.

Still, he hoped cultivation alone would be enough. He had been searching for medicinal plants containing qi in this world to aid his progress, but so far, he had found none. Yet he remained optimistic, since qi existed here, there had to be plants or gems that held it as well. Unfortunately, without any knowledge of alchemy, the best he could do was consume whatever he found directly, without refining it into a proper concoction.

The disease that had gnawed at him since birth was finally healed a week ago. It had been a grueling struggle to suppress it, and even more so to purge it completely from his body. The effort had cost him precious time for cultivation, as he had to dedicate much of his focus to slowly and painstakingly healing an illness he couldn't even identify.

Now that his body was finally healed, he could devote himself fully to cultivation and, hopefully, accelerate his progress. The greatest relief of all was no longer having to live in constant vigilance, always wary of the fragile state of his body, of the possibility that even the smallest cut could turn fatal. Also, he could relax a little in front of his parents. For years, he had hidden every sign of weakness, every bruise and tremor, terrified that their concern or interference might shatter the delicate balance he had managed to maintain.

But with the sickness finally purged from his body, a weight lifted from his shoulders. He could finally breathe freely, though only just, for other problems were already waiting to be solved.

He was roused from his cultivation by a knock on the door. Glancing toward the window, he noticed that night had already fallen.

"Your Highness, your dinner is ready," came Sednev's voice from the other side.

Stretching, Alexei stood and worked the stiffness from his muscles and joints before unlocking and opening the door.

Sednev's face greeted him first, drawn and heavy with something unsaid, but the expression quickly shifted into a practiced smile and a polite bow. The maids behind him followed suit.

"Sorry, Sednev. I fell asleep," Alexei said, stepping aside to let them in.

"No worries, Your Highness," Sednev replied as he stepped inside, noticing that the room was still dark. He glanced at Alexei questioningly.

Alexei only shrugged, he had simply forgotten to turn on the lights. His senses had grown sharper lately, especially as he neared the next stage of his cultivation.

"I'm surprised, Your Highness. I thought you preferred to handle these things yourself," Sednev said with a faint smile as he turned on the lights one by one and guided the maids in setting the food on the table.

Alexei knew he was only joking, so he simply chuckled and sat down, settling comfortably near the dinner table. When the maids had finished and quietly left, he glanced at Sednev.

"Where's Anya?" he asked. It was usually her who handled these tasks, and he'd forgotten to ask during lunch.

"She's down with a fever, Your Highness," Sednev replied.

"Oh," Alexei murmured. Anya had been working hard to take care of him lately, as if afraid she might be replaced, yet her frail health often got in the way. She was diligent and meticulous, he'd give her that, but winter was always her downfall. Still, Alexei had no intention of excluding her from his personal attendants.

"Make sure she sees a doctor and is properly taken care of," he said.

Sednev understood well that the tsarevich valued Anya's service. Her loyalty had already been tested once, when the Empress herself had questioned her about a certain matter, and Anya had carefully deflected the inquiry for Alexei's sake. That act alone had earned her Alexei's trust.

"Yes, Your Highness," Sednev replied, then gestured toward the food on the table. "Please eat while it's still hot."

As Alexei crossed his legs, he asked, "What happened to the rally today, Sednev?"

Trusting Sednev, and even Nagorny, had always been difficult for him. Both men still reported everything he did to his father and mother. He understood they were only being loyal to their duty and their tsar, but he needed them to realize that his trust had to be earned as well. The challenge lay in finding a way to make that clear without being obvious about it. He didn't want them to change just because he asked them to.

Sednev's expression grew grave at the question. The reports he'd heard from the city were troubling. For a moment, he considered deflecting with a lighter answer, but the tsarevich's steady gaze and slowly narrowing eyes warned him against it. He knew he had no choice but to speak the truth.

Clearing his throat, he said solemnly, "There's been an incident during the protest, Your Highness. The guards stationed at the Winter Palace opened fire on the crowd. I'm not sure how many were injured or killed, but… it's more than two hands could count." He carefully watched Alexei's expression and felt a chill settle over the room. There were moments when Sednev could swear that his tsarevich exuded a palpable aura, its temperature shifting with his mood.

The news sent a sharp ache through Alexei's head. He pressed his fingers to his temples, silently cursing his father's poor handling of the protest. Even with countless advisers and ministers at his disposal, the tsar had still managed to bungle the response. Now, they would all have to tread carefully; Alexei knew that another misstep could spell disaster for the family.

For a long moment, Alexei said nothing. He tapped the armrest of his chair, each rhythmic tap echoing faintly in the silence, deepening the chill that hung in the air. Sednev shivered despite himself. When Alexei finally looked up, his voice broke the heavy stillness.

"Where is my fathe…" He paused, frowning. "What's wrong with you?" He had finally noticed Sednev's trembling.

"Nothing, Your Highness. It just suddenly feels… colder in here," Sednev replied, hastily moving toward the hearth to add more wood to the fire.

It was then that Alexei realized what had happened, he was unconsciously releasing qi from his body. It was a small lapse, one that occurred whenever his focus wavered. The energy gathered around him, forming a faint aura he still couldn't fully control. In time, it will prove useful, but for now, it only reflected his mood and unsettled those nearby.

He sighed and deliberately dispersed the qi surrounding him. "It might've been the weather," he said lightly.

"I think so too, Your Highness," Sednev replied, continuing to feed the fire.

"Where is my father now?" Alexei asked, returning to his earlier question.

"He's still in a meeting, Your Highness. I doubt they'll be finished anytime soon," Sednev answered, straightening after stoking the flames. He cast Alexei a fleeting, uneasy glance before quickly averting his eyes. That feeling again, something about his tsarevich always made the air feel heavier than it should.

"What about my mother?" Alexei said with a faint smile, trying to ease the coldness that still lingered in the air.

"Last I saw, she was with her ladies-in-waiting, doing her best to lift the mood in the palace," Sednev answered as he moved to the table, checking whether the food was still warm.

Great. As if that would solve anything, Alexei thought bitterly. His parents simply weren't suited to rule such a vast empire, they never understood the danger until it was too late.

"And my sisters?" he continued.

"They're in the room down the hall, Your Highness. Likely having their dinner as we speak." Sednev turned toward the door, about to summon the maids to reheat the dishes, but stopped when Alexei rose from his seat.

"Don't bother. I'll eat now," Alexei said, taking his seat at the dining table and beginning to eat right away.

When he finished, he stood and began pacing around the room to ease the heaviness in his stomach. After a few minutes, he went through a short set of light exercises to keep his body sharp. His growth spurt hadn't slowed since he turned eight, and he often wondered how tall he would be once it finally stopped. He only hoped it wouldn't exceed seven feet, being that tall would make it difficult to move unseen or fit into tight spaces.

When he was done, he glanced at Sednev, who had just finished clearing the dishes and was quietly observing him. "I'll wash up first, then visit my sisters' room to read them a story. You can rest afterward."

Sednev gave a respectful nod. "Yes, Your Highness."

Once he had freshened up and changed into a clean shirt and a soft wool robe, Alexei stepped out of his room with Sednev following close behind. Outside, he found Nagorny standing guard by his door.

"Good evening, Nagorny," Alexei greeted with a small nod as he started down the hall toward his sisters' quarters.

"Good evening to you as well, Your Highness," Nagorny replied, bowing his head slightly before falling into step behind his tsarevich.

Their footsteps echoed softly against the polished floors as they made their way down the quiet hall. The faint scent of burning wood and lavender soap lingered in the air, mingling with the distant crackle of hearth fires.

When they arrived, Alexei nodded to the guards posted outside his sisters' room before entering. The moment he stepped in, the room greeted him with gentle laughter and the soft rustle of fabrics. His sisters, Olga, Tatiana, and Maria, were already tucked into bed, while their maids busied themselves folding the last of the day's dresses. Little Anastasia was already fast asleep in her crib, her tiny chest rising and falling beneath a quilted blanket.

"Brother!" Olga called out with a bright smile, sitting up eagerly. "You came!"

He smiled faintly. "Of course I did. I promised, didn't I?" He moved to the chair clearly set aside for him between their beds and sat down. "Now, what shall it be tonight? Let me think… hmm." He rubbed his jawline in mock contemplation.

"Princess story!" Tatiana and Maria exclaimed in unison, while Olga rolled her eyes with an indulgent grin.

"Very well," he said, chuckling softly. "But let's make it a little more exciting, how about a warrior princess?"

He adjusted his seat to get comfortable as his sisters eagerly settled into their blankets, eyes wide in anticipation. The maids pretended to busy themselves with quiet chores, though Alexei could tell they were listening. He let them be.

When all was still, he began. "There was once a race of warrior women…" His voice was calm and steady, flowing through the story like a lullaby. Time seemed to stretch and soften as he spoke, the younger girls slowly succumbing to drowsiness, their eyelids growing heavier with each passing moment.

By the time he reached the final lines, only Olga remained awake, watching him quietly. The maids slipped out one by one once he finished, leaving only the night attendant who would keep watch over the sleeping girls.

"You should sleep too," he said gently, standing and stretching his arms.

"I know," she murmured, smiling faintly. "Thank you for coming, Brother."

He brushed a loose strand of hair from her face and smiled. "Always."

With that, he cast one last fond glance at his sleeping sisters before leaving the room. The corridor outside felt colder now, the stillness of night settling deep into the walls.

"You can go rest now, Sednev," Alexei said, noticing his attendant fighting off sleep where he stood. He gave a nod to Nagorny, who he knew would be standing guard over his room tonight.

"Good night, Your Highness," Sednev bowed before patting Nagorny on the shoulder and heading off to his quarters.

Alexei watched Sednev's lonely figure disappear down the corridor before turning back toward his own room. When he arrived, he closed the door quietly behind him and locked it, the soft click echoing faintly in the still air.

He moved to the chair beside the hearth and sank into it, exhaling deeply. For a brief moment, he closed his eyes, allowing the lingering warmth of his sisters' laughter to fade. When he opened them again, the gentle gaze of a loving brother was gone, replaced by an icy, calculating stare. The warmth in his expression had vanished, replaced by a chill so sharp that, if looks could kill, anyone meeting his eyes would be frozen where they stood.

He sat there motionless, watching the flames dance in the hearth. The minutes bled into an hour, the crackling fire was the only sound in the room. When he finally rose, his movements were silent and deliberate. He changed into darker clothes, his hands steady and his expression unreadable.

Once ready, he paused by the door, listening. The hallway beyond was quiet, no footsteps, no whispers. Satisfied, he turned toward the window. With practiced ease, he unlatched it and pushed it open, the cold night air brushing against his masked face.

Without a sound, he slipped through the opening and vanished into the darkness.

—--

Alexei ran as fast as he could through the snowy wilderness, his breath forming misty plumes that vanished into the cold night air. The moon hung low, casting a pale silver light over the endless expanse of snow. He stayed clear of the main road, running parallel to it through the dark rows of birch and pine. The crunch of snow beneath his boots was the only sound accompanying him, steady and rhythmic like a heartbeat.

The biting wind tore at his cloak, but he ignored it. His body moved with practiced precision, each stride long, powerful, and silent despite the terrain. The world around him blurred into shades of white and shadow, the familiar forests of Tsarskoye Selo slipping past as he closed the distance toward the city.

Occasionally, the glow of distant lamplight flickered through the trees, the road, the rare carriage, or a lone patrolman's lantern. Each time, Alexei slowed, crouching low behind the snow-laden branches until the light faded away. He couldn't afford to be seen; not tonight.

His mind was calm despite the freezing air cutting into his lungs. The faint hum of qi within his body kept his blood warm, his muscles light. Every step was a whisper, every breath measured. The thrill of speed and the quiet of the winter night melded into something almost meditative.

As he crested a small rise, the faint golden glow of St. Petersburg shimmered on the horizon, a city of light and unrest waiting beneath the veil of snow and smoke. He paused only for a moment, watching his destination like a hunter eyeing his prey, before dashing forward once more, vanishing into the night's frozen silence.

When he reached the outskirts of the city, Alexei slowed his pace. He brushed the snow from his coat, adjusted his clothes, and began walking toward the city center. He wanted to see what had become of St. Petersburg.

As he passed through the dimly lit streets, he caught snippets of conversation from groups of people huddled together for warmth. He slowed, listening just long enough before moving on. From their words, he gathered that the city had been placed under lockdown, though the restrictions seemed to focus mainly on the central districts and government quarters. The outer neighborhoods remained largely untouched, life continuing as usual under the cold watch of winter.

Still, he knew he had to tread carefully. The deeper he went into the city, the more dangerous it would become, not for him exactly, but he had no desire to get tangled up with the authorities or troublemakers.

For a moment, he considered climbing onto the rooftops to move unseen, but quickly abandoned the idea. The snow-covered tiles were too slick, and a single misstep could alert the patrols.

As he ventured further into the city, the crowds began to thin. Patrolmen, guards, and even soldiers could be seen making their rounds. Yet amidst their presence, small groups of agitators still gathered in defiance, huddled together, shouting slogans into the cold night air. The guards tried their best to disperse them without resorting to violence, but it often ended in chaos. From time to time, sharp cracks of gunfire echoed through the streets.

Alexei kept to the shadows, slipping through alleys and blind spots, his movements silent and deliberate. Whenever he'd seen enough of one area, he'd move on to the next. The farther he went, the worse the situation seemed to grow. Flames flickered against the night sky as houses and buildings burned, people ran in panic, and guards chased them through the smoke-filled streets. The scene reminded him unsettlingly of The Purge: Anarchy from his first life, a city consumed by madness.

Once he had seen enough, Alexei turned toward the slums where his base and his "little organization" were located. He prayed the chaos hadn't reached them. But as he drew nearer, the streets grew eerily quiet. No civilians in sight, only the whisper of wind and snow. Anxiety pushed him to quicken his pace.

When he finally reached the edge of the slums, his tension eased slightly. His new gang members, the Jackals, were out on patrol, their insignias marked clearly on their coats. Some even chatted and laughed with the guards and politsiya. Still, Alexei avoided them for now. He wanted to assess the situation personally without revealing himself.

He moved deeper into the district, circling through narrow alleys and hidden paths. The slum was unnervingly still, but orderly. The Jackals maintained a tight patrol, occasionally shouting at residents to stay indoors. Seeing that level of discipline, Alexei allowed himself a faint smile. It seemed Anna had things under control.

With his observation complete, Alexei decided to head to the base of his new gang, the Jackals. It wasn't far from the house where Anna and his minions stayed. He had arranged things so that his men could respond quickly if anyone tried to attack the newly formed group. They had only begun their training after the New Year, so most of them were still inexperienced when it came to real fighting. Still, they were useful for patrols, maintaining order, and intimidation, tasks they handled well enough.

As he neared the base, Alexei made sure to stay out of sight. This was only a brief inspection, he wanted to see how things were running without alerting anyone. When the building came into view, he paused and observed. The guards stationed outside were vigilant, and he noticed a steady flow of people coming and going, clearly, they were patrolling in shifts.

Curious to see what was happening inside, he searched for a blind spot, climbed the wall quietly, and peered over. Inside, several people were busy cooking soups and porridge, while others sat eating, talking, and laughing. The atmosphere was calm and almost domestic.

Alexei smiled faintly. They weren't yet strong enough to challenge the city's major gangs, but it was a promising start. Satisfied with what he saw, he slipped back down and made his way toward where Anna and his minions were.

When Alexei arrived at the house, he exchanged brief greetings with his men before heading upstairs to find Anna. The wooden steps creaked softly under his boots as he climbed, the faint hum of voices fading behind him. When he reached the upper floor, he saw one of Anna's assistants, Alina, standing guard outside the door.

"Anna inside?" he asked, nodding in greeting.

"Yes, master," Alina replied quickly, her voice a little shaky as Alexei approached. A faint blush crept onto her cheeks, but he paid it no mind and stepped past her.

He rapped lightly on the door. "It's me. May I come in?"

There was a pause before a tired voice replied, "Yes, come in."

Alexei opened the door and stepped inside. The room was dimly lit, a small oil lamp casting a warm glow over stacks of papers and ledgers piled on the desk. Anna sat there, leaning slightly forward, her hair a little disheveled and her eyes weary.

Alexei gestured to the mess of papers. "Someone's busy, I see."

She exhaled softly, gathering the scattered documents into a rough pile. "What do you think? Half the district's on edge, and I'm the one trying to hold it together."

He moved closer, pulling out a chair and sitting across from her. "You're doing fine, Anna. The slums are calm compared to the rest of the city. I've seen what's happening out there, it's chaos."

"That's only because we acted fast," she said, rubbing her temples. "I had the Jackals double their patrols after sunset. I mean, it was still manageable during the day but after they heard about the chaos and the lockdown, they panicked. Everything's under control now though."

Alexei leaned back, studying her. "You've learned quickly. You handle this place better than most officers in the capital."

A faint smirk tugged at her lips. "Coming from you, I'll take that as high praise."

"It is," he said. His tone softened slightly. "But don't burn yourself out. You need rest as much as the men."

Anna raised an eyebrow. "Since when do you care about rest?"

He chuckled quietly. "Since I started realizing exhaustion makes people stupid. And we can't afford stupid right now."

Anna gave a small laugh and leaned back in her chair, the wood creaking beneath her weight. "Maybe you're right," she admitted, brushing a loose strand of hair from her face. "Just… a little longer. I still need to finish the reports from tonight's patrols."

"Then I'll stay until you're done," Alexei said, glancing toward the frost-lined window. "Who do you pass your orders to, by the way?"

"I had your minions pass them along," she replied, not looking up as her pen continued scratching across the paper. "Don't worry, I won't show myself, even with a mask on."

"Good," Alexei murmured, nodding approvingly. "What about Nikolai? Is he handling his newfound power well?" He leaned back, crossing his arms over his chest. Nikolai had been his appointed leader for his gang, as he really couldn't manage it everyday.

Anna's lips curved slightly, her eyes flicking toward him. "You saw the area before coming here, didn't you? What do you think?"

"He's doing well," Alexei said after a moment's pause, shifting to a more comfortable position in his chair.

"There you go." Anna smiled faintly, setting her pen down and stretching her stiff fingers. "Didn't think he'd be good at it, but I'll take the pleasant surprise."

Alexei's mouth twitched into a grin. "So I worried for nothing. Anything I should know about?"

"Here." Anna slid a few crumpled pamphlets across the desk toward him. "They've started recruiting people to join them in the chaos."

He clicked his tongue softly as he unfolded the papers. "Tsk, tsk… propaganda and promises." His brows furrowed as he skimmed through the content. "Did anyone bite?"

"Some," Anna admitted with a sigh. "But we already moved the families of those who joined them, just like you ordered. The others started saying you're harsh and… pro-government." She looked at his eyes carefully, gauging his reaction through his mask.

Alexei snorted and tossed the pamphlets back onto the desk. "Doesn't matter. Did you spread the message I told you to?"

"Yes," Anna replied, smirking. "Chaos is bad for business, and stability is the future, right?" she recited playfully, a hint of amusement lighting her tired face.

"That's right," Alexei said, smirking in return. "What? You think it's cringe or something?"

She chuckled, shaking her head. "Nope. Actually, I think it's good. A bit dramatic, maybe, but good."

Her smile faded slightly as she leaned forward, lowering her voice. "Oh, and some people are still lurking around the area, asking questions about you, who took control of the slums. What do you think they're after? The gold? Or the territory?"

Alexei's expression hardened. He rubbed his chin thoughtfully before answering. "Let's assume both. Either way, tell the men to be careful. And you, don't show your face to the gang, no matter what. Stick to your role as the mother of these children."

Anna blinked and pointed at herself incredulously. "What mother? They're calling me 'sister,' sister!" she said, stressing the word with exaggerated annoyance.

"Right, right, my mistake," Alexei said quickly, raising both hands in mock surrender. A faint grin tugged at his lips behind the mask as he stood. "It seems I worried for nothing. You did well, Anna. Tell Nikolai he's doing fine too."

Anna rose from her seat, stretching her back before crossing her arms. "Okay. You're heading out already?"

"Yes," he said, pulling on his coat. "I'll visit more often from now on, in case something happens. Don't forget, if things go bad, run straight to the hideout." He paused, glancing toward the window. "And another thing. Let's buy the houses surrounding this one and connect them. Extend the walls. This place will be our base, and I want it big enough before our 'family' gets too big."

Anna groaned softly, rubbing her temples. "You know I can't do all that at once, right?"

"I know," Alexei said with a small smile. "Just handle what you can for now. Do the rest later."

She exhaled, finally nodding. "Alright."

He gave one last look out the window, where snowflakes drifted lazily against the glass. "Good. Then I'll go now."

Anna watched him walk to the door, her expression softening. "Be careful out there, Alexei," she said quietly.

He paused, turning just enough to meet her gaze. "Always."

With that, he left.

As soon as Alexei stepped out into the cold night, the chill bit through his coat like needles of ice. The snow had thickened since he arrived, flakes drifted lazily under the faint glow of the gas lamps, settling on his hair and shoulders. He pulled his collar up, took one last look at the house, and then sprinted into the dark.

His boots left shallow prints in the snow as he moved swiftly through the narrow alleys, taking the same route he used to arrive. The slums stretched quietly behind him, dim and calm, a stark contrast to the chaos that had consumed the rest of the city. He couldn't help the faint smile that tugged at his lips.

They did well, he thought, his breath steady despite the cold. Anna… Nikolai… everyone. The streets there had been orderly, and the people safe. Even the guards had seemed to respect the peace within the slums. It was more than he expected. More than he hoped for.

For once, he didn't have to fix anything. He didn't have to give another order for them what to do. They'd handled it on their own.

Pride swelled quietly in his chest, mingling with a sense of relief. For all the chaos consuming the empire, his little corner of it had held steady. It gave him hope that perhaps, one day, it could be more than that.

 

[OtherGuy]

Sweet chapter let's see how Alexei brings order to all that choas

 

[ImperatorXCV]

He had been traveling back and forth between Tsarskoye Selo and the city for months now. His minions got everything under control there, sure, but he still worried that some problems might crop up that they couldn't solve on their own, or worse, the gangs who had been eyeing the slums for a while now would suddenly attack. Problems had a way of appearing when least expected. He could never feel comfortable just leaving his minions be, especially in these tumultuous times.

When the news of the shooting spread throughout the empire, it was as if a fuse had been lit. The bloody Sunday, as people began to call it, ignited an uproar from the Baltic to the Ural Mountains. Cities trembled with anger. Workers walked out of the factories, joining the strike. Production ground to a halt as the empire's veins of industry froze with discontent.

Local authorities and secret police stepped up their reprisals, protesters and suspected agitators were arrested, some were even executed in clandestine operations, while others were deported to Siberia for forced labor. The brutal crackdowns only deepened the public's hatred and fear, adding another layer of horror to the unrest.

He knew there was nothing he could do about the current situation. The foundation he had built was still too small to influence even a single city no matter how he moved his people. His minions lacked experience, and he didn't want to risk anything when the public was so volatile during these turbulent times. All he could do was devise escape plans in case things took a turn for the worse. He refused to let his family become hostages if the people decided to overthrow the government. Having their lives in someone else's hands was the worst possible outcome. He had experienced that kind of helplessness before, and he would never allow his family to endure it as well.

He began mapping out the palace as he quietly surveyed it, carefully noting every secret passage and potential hiding place. Fortunately, he discovered a few tunnels that led south, deep into the forest, away from the city. It would be dangerous if it ever came to that, but at least their fates would remain in their own hands.

He even enlisted Sednev and Nagorny to help him with the preparations. They had been skeptical at first, but as the unrest spread and tensions worsened, they eventually understood the necessity of such measures and began taking the work seriously. Alexei knew his father must have prepared an escape plan for them, but he couldn't trust the man who had failed spectacularly in almost every critical situation he'd faced. So, he resolved to make one for himself, and that he did.

Alexei followed the reports closely. The ambassadors from other nations wasted no time relaying what had happened to their governments and newspapers. Across Europe, headlines blazed with words like massacre, tyranny, and Russian bloodshed. In Paris and London, crowds gathered in the streets to denounce the Tsarist regime. In Vienna and Berlin, intellectuals and socialists alike condemned the empire's brutality, calling it the death knell of autocracy. Even in faraway capitals like Washington and Tokyo, officials watched with unease, questioning whether Russia was beginning to crumble from within.

Sympathy poured in for the Russian workers and peasants, while fear and doubt spread among foreign investors and diplomats. Russia's prestige, already strained by war and corruption, was bleeding away in the eyes of the world.
The news about the losses in the war against Japan didn't help either. The defeat at Mukden and the destruction of the Baltic Fleet at Tsushima only deepened the people's discontent toward the government. Alexei knew that the revolutionaries and socialists were exploiting the situation, fanning the flames of anger and unrest throughout the empire. But there was little he could do about them, for now.

Even the army, once the backbone of the Tsar's power, began to crack. Some soldiers mutinied, their loyalty shaken by defeat and misery. In the end, his father had no choice but to send Witte to negotiate peace with Japan, something he did very reluctantly.

He almost laughed when his father, under immense pressure from all sides, finally agreed to the creation of the State Duma, yet only with consultative powers, not the true authority the people demanded. When the Duma's limited powers and the restrictions on the electorate were revealed, unrest redoubled, fiercer than before. People across the empire began uniting to organize a general strike, throwing the government into panic.

Alexei could only shake his head at the chaos. Fortunately, a few of his father's advisors still possessed both sense and courage. Sergei Witte and Alexis Obolenskii stepped forward with what they believed to be the only viable solution, the October Manifesto. It addressed many of the people's demands: the granting of basic civil rights, permission to form political parties, the extension of suffrage, and the establishment of a State Duma as a true legislative body.

He didn't know how Witte and Obolenskii managed it, but after days of debate and hesitation, his father reluctantly signed the manifesto. The act seemed to drain the life out of him. His father had fallen ill afterward, as if the very notion of surrendering even a fraction of autocratic power had poisoned his soul.

Alexei couldn't quite understand it, how deeply his father's identity was bound to the old order, how impossible it was for him to imagine Russia without an all-powerful tsar at its center. He could only hope now that what Sergei Witte and Alexei Obolenskii presented could really stop the unrest or at least lessen it.

During these troubled times, at least Alexei gained something, the word he had been searching for a long time finally revealed itself, Soviet. He had been hunting that particular word for a while now, since it was the very name of what Russia became in his first life. He could finally track the people who would be on his death note, the ones who, in his opinion, posed the greatest threat to his family.

All he had to do was investigate and trace the people who created and would join the Soviets. At first he wondered why the word Soviet or the movement behind it hadn't appeared in this timeline, but who would have thought it simply hadn't been created yet. He would let them grow for now, watch who joined their ranks, and deal a crushing blow when the time was right.

—--

November 5, 1905

Alexei was reading French words in his personal study. Sitting opposite him was his new tutor, Pierre Gilliard, whom his mother had hired to teach him the French language and its culture. Alexei would admit that he was struggling to learn this new language, as he hadn't studied it in his first life. He remembered from the novels he had read in his first life that almost all reincarnators or transmigrators seemed to possess vast knowledge of technology, history, and languages, they knew everything. But it seemed he was one of the few exceptions. He had his cultivation, sure, but those who "knew it all" in the stories could take the world by storm with their knowledge, and everything seemed to go their way, completely opposite to what he was experiencing now.

"That's the wrong pronunciation, Your Highness. It's ah-mour," Pierre Gilliard said with enthusiasm and overly expressive gestures.

To Alexei, however, Gilliard sounded like a lovesick cow every time he opened his mouth to demonstrate the proper pronunciation. He had heard people speak French in court before, diplomats visiting his father or his family, but never with such exaggerated flair. He guessed that Gilliard simply loved his work and his language too much to let him "sully" its beauty.

Still, Alexei wouldn't let him have his way. Taking a slow breath to calm himself, he said, "Can we skip the pronunciation part and let me read first, Monsieur?"

Pierre Gilliard froze, caught off guard. He wasn't used to students making such requests. He was about to explain how essential pronunciation was in learning the language when he noticed Alexei narrowing his eyes slowly and deliberately.

The guards outside had warned him earlier to be careful when the Tsarevich narrows his eyes. He didn't know exactly what would happen if he ignored the warning, but he wasn't eager to find out. Clearing his throat, he said quickly, "As you wish, Your Highness. I'll just listen while you read."

Alexei relaxed then and nodded. "I'm sorry. I'm just really struggling with this language, and the tone of your voice when you say these words isn't helping."

Pierre Gilliard was a little offended by that but quickly forced a polite smile. "It's alright, Your Highness. Please continue."

Alexei resumed his struggle with the language. He hated that he sounded like a first-grade student, but he had no choice but to keep reading. He knows that he will need this someday.

When he finally finished a few paragraphs, he almost threw the book out of frustration but restrained himself. Looking at Gilliard, he said, "Can you read what I just read, Monsieur? So I'll know the proper pronunciation?"

"Of course, Your Highness," Pierre nodded with a smile before reading the passage from where Alexei had started.

And so, the tutoring continued that way, Alexei would read a few paragraphs in French, and then Pierre would read the same ones, until the door opened and a familiar voice called out.

"Oh, you started without me?" Olga ran toward them and pouted, looking at both of them accusingly.

Their mother had arranged for the two siblings to study together today, but Alexei had purposely started early. He didn't want his sister to see him in such an embarrassing state. He was building the image of a dependable, strong, and intelligent brother, and he wouldn't let this small moment ruin it.

He could only give her a wry smile and shrug. "You're late, so we started without you."

"But I'm just right on time. See?" Olga pointed at the clock on the wall before taking her seat at the third chair prepared for her.

"Ah, that clock must be broken," Alexei said with a laugh, scrambling for another excuse.

Just then, Sednev entered the study and saved him. "Excuse me, Your Highness, but His Majesty is looking for you in his office."

Alexei sighed in relief at the perfect timing. He closed his book and looked at Olga. "It seems I'm done for the day, my sweet sister."

"But…" Olga frowned. She had been looking forward to studying with her brother, it sounded fun in her mind, but it seemed today wasn't the day.

She could only pout and sulk as she watched him.

Seeing this, Alexei sighed and said, "Don't worry, there'll be a next time." He ruffled her hair, gave a polite nod to Pierre, and quickly left the room.

Alexei chuckled at the predicament he had just been in as soon as he closed the door. He needed to find a way to separate his tutoring sessions from his sister next time. He couldn't let his perfectly tailored image crumble just like that. Sometimes, he wondered if he had become a hypocrite, pretending to be someone he was not. Or perhaps he simply had a psychological problem with being nothing, just as he had been in the cultivation world, and now wanted to become someone perfect in this new life. He could only shake his head at the thought. That would be a problem.

"What's wrong, Your Highness?" Sednev noticed Alexei shaking his head and couldn't help but ask.

"Nothing. Lead the way, Sednev." Alexei smiled faintly and gestured for Sednev to take the lead toward his father's office. He hoped it was nothing, just a fleeting thought and like a passing wind. The insecurities from his previous life should remain in the past, not follow him into this present one, where he finally had nearly everything he had once been denied.

Sednev nodded and motioned ahead. "This way, Your Highness." With that, he started walking.

Alexei followed quietly, still lost in thought, while Nagorny trailed behind.

It didn't take long for them to reach his father's office. Sednev and Nagorny halted before the door, and Alexei stepped forward as the guards opened it for him.

When Alexei entered, he saw his father sitting behind his desk. The sight made him pause. His father looked thinner, his once broad shoulders and the confidence that came with them seemed to have shrunk. The proud, commanding aura he used to exude as emperor of this vast empire had dimmed. His face was pale, and dark circles shadowed his eyes, clear signs of sleepless nights.

Alexei glanced toward his mother, who sat on a sofa not far from the desk, quietly embroidering. She looked tired as well, though not as much as his father. It seemed she was staying by his father's side to keep him company, or perhaps to make sure he didn't do something unwise.

After taking a moment to observe the room, Alexei stepped forward. His movement caught both his parents' attention.

"Ah, Alexei," his father said, his voice still steady, as though the frailty of his body was merely an illusion. "Come here, my son."

His mother looked up from her embroidery and smiled softly, though she said nothing.

Alexei approached quietly, his boots barely making a sound against the polished floor. He stopped before the desk, offered a small smile, and bowed slightly. "Good morning, Father." Then he turned toward his mother. "Good morning, Mother."

Nicholas smiled faintly, a trace of warmth returning to his face. "You've grown taller again, haven't you? It won't be long before you surpass me. Tsk, tsk… Time really does fly." He leaned back in his chair, studying his son.

Alexei shrugged with a grin, trying to dispel the heavy atmosphere in the room. "That's a certainty, Father. You'd better prepare yourself. Soon, you'll have to look up just to see my face."

"Alexei…" his mother said, her tone half-scolding, taken aback that he'd spoken to his father so casually.

Nicholas blinked in surprise, then chuckled. The chuckle turned into laughter, and before long, he was guffawing, clutching his stomach as if he hadn't laughed in ages.

Alexei raised an eyebrow, while his mother covered her mouth in astonishment at both the volume and the lack of imperial composure in her husband's laughter.

After a moment, Nicholas began to cough, cutting his laughter short. The emperor waved off his wife's concern even as she hurried behind him to pat his back.

When he finally caught his breath, he looked at Alexei with a glint of mirth in his weary eyes. "That was wonderful, son. I don't remember laughing that hard in years. I think that's a first." He picked up a glass of wine from his desk and took a slow sip.

His mother shot him a sharp glare from behind, but he only smiled at her, not bothering with the scolding he knew would come later.

"I don't remember saying anything funny, Father. But I'll take that as a compliment," Alexei said, still smiling. He was genuinely happy to see his father laugh that hard. He hadn't seen him laugh like that since he was born in this life. And the fact that he hadn't even tried hard made it even more surprising.

Nicholas set down his glass and gestured to his wife that he was fine, motioning for her to take a seat again. "That was the first time anyone has ever said something like that to me," he said, shaking his head with a faint grin. "And it comes from my own son."

He leaned back and added, "Anyway, I called you here because your birthday is coming soon, and we wanted to know what you'd like as a gift." He motioned for Alexei to sit.

"Anything I want?" Alexei asked, a broad smile spreading across his face as he sat. His mind immediately raced to the idea he had been mulling over for months, the plan to build or buy a publishing company for the stories he had been secretly writing and keeping in his study. It seemed today might finally be the day to bring it up.

Nicholas looked at his wife, silently asking for confirmation to what he had just said.

Alexandra caught his glance and nodded before speaking, "As long as it's not too much, Alexei, you can have it."

"Please wait then," Alexei said. He dashed toward the door, opened it, and called out to Sednev to fetch the bundle of stories he had prepared on his desk, and to hurry. Then he shut the door again and walked back toward his father's desk, taking his seat calmly as if nothing had happened.

Nicholas and Alexandra exchanged questioning looks. Alexei simply smiled in return, saying nothing.

After a brief silence, Nicholas could no longer contain his curiosity. "What was that, Alexei?" he asked, narrowing his eyes slightly. "And what exactly do you want for your birthday?"

Alexei wanted to tease them a bit, but decided against it, better not risk annoying them before asking for what he wanted. So instead, he said, "You both know that I've been telling bedtime stories to the little girls, right?"

Both his parents nodded. They knew Alexei often made up stories to entertain his sisters before bed. They had even caught him a few times when they checked on their daughters at night and ended up quietly listening from the doorway. Still, they didn't quite understand what that had to do with his birthday request.

"I got curious about books," Alexei continued. "About how people put their stories in them. So I did some research, I asked the librarian here in the palace how books are made, and he explained everything. It didn't sound that hard." He paused for a moment, then looked between his parents with a hopeful expression. "So I was thinking… would you allow me to own a publishing house to publish my stories? I want other children to read them too, not just my sisters."

He put on what he hoped was a thoughtful yet innocent look, the kind that made him appear sincere and irresistibly earnest.

Nicholas blinked at his son, momentarily speechless. Of all the things he expected Alexei to ask for, like finally being allowed to fire a rifle, which he had begged to do for years, this certainly wasn't one of them. He let out a small laugh, forcing his surprise into a smile. "I wasn't expecting that, son. Really… haha. Should've seen this coming. You were holding books instead of toys even when you're so little."

He turned to his wife, who was just as stunned, and cleared his throat to get her attention. "What do you think, my dear?" he asked.

Alexandra blinked a few times, still trying to process what she had just heard. "A publishing house?" she finally repeated, her voice soft but filled with surprise. "You mean… you want to print your own stories? For other children to read?"

Alexei nodded eagerly. "Yes, Mother. I already have several stories written. I only need a way to turn them into real books."

Nicholas leaned back in his chair, watching his son with a thoughtful expression. There was genuine admiration in his eyes now, mixed with something else, perhaps disbelief that a boy his age would think of such a thing. "You've been… writing?" he asked slowly.

Alexei nodded again, smiling. "In my spare time, yes. I keep them on my desk. Sednev is fetching them right now."

Alexandra glanced at her husband, her expression somewhat conflicted. "I don't know, husband," she said softly. "It feels a little early for him to pursue something like this."

Nicholas chuckled quietly and leaned closer to whisper, "Yes… Let's see what he's written first before deciding."

He paused, then looked back at Alexei, resting his elbows on the desk and interlacing his fingers. "To think you'd want to own a publishing house, Alexei, that's quite ambitious for your age."

Alexei caught what they were whispering about, but he kept a composed expression and replied calmly, "I'm not doing it for myself. I just want other children to have something to read. Olga, Tatiana, and Maria liked my stories, so maybe other children will too."

Alexandra's gaze softened at his sincerity, while Nicholas raised an eyebrow, appearing thoughtful. After a short pause, he said, "Let's read your stories first.." He didn't finish his sentence when a knock came at the door. It opened, and Sednev stepped inside, holding a thick stack of papers in both hands.

"Pardon me, Your Majesty. I was told to deliver…." Sednev began, but Alexei quickly interrupted.

"Come, Sednev, put them all on the table," Alexei said, waving him over eagerly.

Sednev paused for a moment before replying, "Yes, Your Highness," then walked toward the table and carefully placed the stack of papers down. He bowed respectfully to the Tsar and Tsarina before turning to Alexei. "Is there anything else you require of me, Your Highness?"

Alexei shook his head as he began sorting the papers into piles. "No, thank you, Sednev. You may go."

Sednev bowed once more, turned, and quietly exited the room.

As soon as the door closed, Alexandra gently but firmly said, "Alexei, you shouldn't interrupt people when they're speaking. Do you understand?"

Alexei nodded at once. "I'm sorry, Mother. It won't happen again." He then returned to his task, carefully arranging the papers until six neat stacks lay before him.

After a brief silence, he looked up and said, "I've written six stories in total. Please read them. I hope you'll like them."

He offered his parents his most sincere smile, then sat back down, hands folded neatly on his lap, and waited for them to read. He had no choice but to act like this. He remembered how his sisters behaved whenever they wanted something, they would sit still, speak sweetly, and act adorable until they got their way. He wasn't sure about the "adorable" part in his case, but he was certainly trying his best.

Nicholas chuckled at his son's obvious attempt to behave and shook his head, amused. He reached for the stack of papers nearest to him and flipped through them briefly. It was quite a thick bundle for a children's story, which made him raise a brow. He glanced at his son for a moment before returning his attention to the pages and began to read.

Alexandra followed suit, selecting another stack from the desk. She moved gracefully to the sofa and settled herself comfortably, her embroidery temporarily forgotten as she began reading the words her son had written.

Alexei thought they would only read the first few paragraphs, just enough to humor him, but minutes passed, and neither of them looked up. The room grew quiet except for the occasional rustle of paper.

He sat there, trying to look composed, eventually though he got bored. He stood up quietly and walked around the room, he looked at every portrait and anything he found interesting just to pass the time.

Twenty minutes passed. His father's expression had shifted, sometimes serious, sometimes faintly smiling. His mother, too, had her brows furrowed in deep focus, lips moving slightly as she read, as if savoring the words.

Half an hour later, Nicholas exhaled deeply and placed the last page of the story down on the desk. Not long after, Alexandra did the same.

"You wrote this yourself?" Nicholas was the first to comment.

Alexei looked at his father and put on his most expectant expression. "Yes, Father. What do you think?"

Nicholas leaned back in his chair. "It's… it's good, son. I thought it would be a simple children's story, but even adults could be drawn into reading this." Nicholas smiled as he spoke, a hint of pride softening his features.

Alexandra chimed in next. "Your sisters' names are in this story," she said, waving the stack of papers for Alexei to see. "What about us?"

"Uhmm… I didn't want to put your names in, in case you didn't like the story," Alexei improvised quickly. In truth, he hadn't even thought of including his parents. He figured using his sisters' names was enough, but judging by their faces, that had been a mistake.

Nicholas glanced at his wife. "It was good though, wasn't it, my dear? I'm sure Alexei will include our names if he writes more stories in the future."

Alexandra frowned but nodded reluctantly.

Nicholas turned back to his son, placing a hand over the stack of papers. "This is good, son."

Alexei smiled but stayed silent, waiting for the final decision.

"What do you think, dear? Should we grant Alexei's birthday wish?" Nicholas asked, watching his wife, who was still deep in thought as she held the manuscript.

After a moment, Alexandra finally spoke. "Assign someone trustworthy to manage this publishing house. And don't let him use his real name as the author. Someone might try to use it to tarnish his reputation." She stood up, placed the papers she had read on the table, and picked up another stack.

Nicholas chuckled and turned to his son. "It seems you'll be quite busy soon, my boy. I'll have Boris arrange everything for you."

"Yes!" Alexei cheered, pumping his fist in the air, then laughed along with his father. He didn't care about who's name would be put as the author of the book, as long as it was published and made money, that was enough.

Alexandra shook her head at the two of them, though a faint smile tugged at her lips, and she quietly returned to reading.

Nicholas and Alexei discussed a few more details about what he could and couldn't do with the publishing house. When they were done, Alexei began gathering the stacks of paper, intending to take them back to his room, but his father stopped him.

"What are you doing, son?" Nicholas asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I'm taking these back," Alexei said, gesturing toward the papers.

Nicholas smiled. "Someone will bring them back to you later. We haven't finished reading the rest yet."

"Oh, alright. But please be careful with them, I don't have spare copies," Alexei warned, as he set the papers down again reluctantly.

"Of course. What do you take us for? Now go," Nicholas said with amusement.

Alexei was about to leave after saying goodbye to his mother, who was too engrossed in reading to respond, when his father called out again.

"Oh, wait. There's another reason I called you here. Sit back down first."

Alexei turned and sat back down, curious. "What is it?"

Nicholas's expression turned serious. "You'll begin your rifle training after your birthday. You'll also be joining your uncle for more rigorous military training. You'll visit our training camps, observe military life, and stay there for a time. I want you to be ready, son. I went through the same thing, and it wasn't easy. Are you prepared for this?" His gaze lingered on his son, searching for any hint of hesitation. He and Alexandra had already discussed this, with the unrest spreading throughout the empire, they both agreed Alexei needed to be prepared for what might come.

Alexei's expression grew serious as well. After a moment, he nodded. "Okay, Father. I won't disappoint you."

Nicholas smiled proudly. He rose from his chair, came around the desk, and ruffled Alexei's hair. "I know you won't. You always do well, just like with these stories." He chuckled, then pulled his son into a brief hug. "After your training, I'll give you your ceremonial sword. Don't worry, I'll choose the most beautiful one for you."

Alexei smiled. "Thank you, Father."

Nicholas nodded, then glanced at his wife, who still hadn't looked up from her reading. Alexei followed his father's gaze and smirked.

"It seems your mother's forgotten about us, son," Nicholas said with a laugh. "You can go now."

"Okay, Father. Don't forget to send my stories to my room later," Alexei said as he walked toward the door and left.

Nicholas chuckled quietly, shaking his head. "That boy…" he murmured, a proud smile still on his face. He sat back down and picked up a new stack of papers on the desk to read.

"Where's Alexei?" Alexandra's voice suddenly broke the silence.

Nicholas nearly rolled his eyes at that.

—--

Days passed, and soon Alexei's birthday arrived, a day he always dreaded. To him, birthdays were less a celebration and more an exhausting performance. He had to stand beside his parents, greeting guests one after another, dukes, duchesses, generals, ministers, and their wives, all smiling and offering compliments he neither wanted nor cared for. In his opinion, he hadn't even invited them, they came only to flatter his father or be seen in the imperial circle.

Still, duty was duty. With a strained politeness, Alexei shook hands, and murmured the appropriate words of gratitude each time someone offered their well-wishes. He was painfully aware of his mother's watchful eyes, ensuring he behaved like a proper young heir. Every time his smile began to falter, he forced it back into place, stretching his lips until his jaw began to ache.

The line of guests seemed never-ending, Alexei could feel his face stiffen as though it had turned to porcelain. His cheeks burned from holding that same pleasant expression, and he silently cursed the necessity of it all. He would have preferred spending the day with his sisters or working on his own projects rather than standing here as a decorative figure in his own celebration.

By the time the last of the guests had greeted him, his face felt heavy as marble, and his throat was parched from polite conversation. Still, he persevered. He ate with his parents as the party continued, occasionally speaking with guests who had brought their children along. Yet as the evening wore on, Alexei began to feel it, the gazes. Subtle at first, but unmistakable. Eyes lingering on him longer than before. It was always like this at gatherings, but tonight felt different.

It was as if they were weighing him, measuring him, and studying him. Guests whispered behind their fans or exchanged glances when they thought he wasn't looking. Perhaps they were gossiping or perhaps they were assessing, but they were far too obvious about it. He could even catch fragments of their conversations, though he kept his face impassive, pretending not to notice. Alexei knew exactly what they were doing, sizing him up, trying to glimpse what kind of ruler the young heir might one day become.

He didn't like it. The attention had grown heavier and more deliberate than before. In the past, people looked at him out of curiosity or courtesy, but now, there was scrutiny in their eyes. The empire was changing, unrest was spreading, fear growing, and everyone seemed desperate to know who he truly was beneath the surface.

When the performers and jugglers began their show, Alexei finally seized his chance to escape his parents' side. He led his sisters closer to the stage, waited until they were settled, and then quietly told their caretakers to watch over them, explaining that he needed to go to the bathroom. His parents instructed him to return after the performance, but he had no intention of doing so. He could always claim later that he had felt unwell.

Slipping away unnoticed, he moved toward a quiet corner of the grand hall, not far from the performers' stage. Half-hidden behind a marble column, he finally allowed himself a rare moment of peace, watching the festivities unfold without having to play the part of the dutiful heir. The laughter and chatter of the crowd faded slightly here, replaced by the rhythmic clinking of glasses and the distant sound of music.

But his peace didn't last long. Out of the corner of his eye, Alexei noticed a few familiar figures creeping toward him, doing a poor job of pretending to be stealthy. He recognized them immediately, his friends whom he hadn't seen in a long time. He could hear their muffled snickers and shuffling steps as they tried to surprise him.

Alexei sighed softly. So much for solitude. He turned his head slightly, pretending not to notice them, just to see how far they would take it.

"Boo!" one of them, Roman, whisper-shouted from behind the column.

Alexei blinked once, feigning mild surprise. "Oh no," he said dryly. "You startled me."

His friends laughed, crowding around him. "Happy birthday, Your Highness!" Marina said, handing him a small box wrapped in gold paper. "We've been waiting for you to be alone, you know. It almost took forever."

Alexei shrugged lightly. "There were too many guests. I couldn't find a good excuse earlier. Anyway, where are the others?"

Elena popped out from behind the column. "They couldn't make it," she said. "Sergei, Lev, and Vladimir were denied permission to attend your birthday. When you have the power, you should really fire that Major who's handling their training." She handed him a small box as she finished speaking.

"Oh," Alexei muttered as he took the gift. His male friends were attending the Page Corps, the military academy that prepared the sons of nobility for service in the Imperial Army.

Roman stepped forward next, realizing he still hadn't given his gift yet. He would be entering the academy himself the following year.

"Tsk. My hands are nearly full," Alexei said helplessly, trying to balance the boxes. He then noticed Sednev watching him from a distance and gestured for him to come over and take the gifts.

Before Sednev could reach them, Irina, who had been quiet the entire time, finally gathered the courage to step forward. She stretched out her small hands, offering him a beautifully wrapped box. Her smile trembled slightly, betraying her nervousness.

"Happy birthday, Your Highness," she said softly. "I hope you'll like it."

Alexei nodded and gave her a gentle smile. "Thank you. I'm sure I'll like all your gifts."

Irina blushed instantly and stepped back, trying to hide her face behind Marina.

Alexei raised an eyebrow at that but didn't give it much thought.

Sednev arrived then, quietly taking the stack of gifts from Alexei's hands before heading off.

"Don't worry," Alexei said, noticing how the others watched Sednev carry the gifts away. "They'll be sent directly to my room. I'll open them before I go to sleep."

"You'd better," Marina said, folding her arms playfully. "It took me forever to choose yours."

That made the group laugh again. They chatted for a while before Alexei suggested. "I'm still hungry. I'm going to get some food. You guys want to join me?"

"Of course. I don't have anything to do anyway." Marina said enthusiastically.

Elena nodded after a moment. "Ï'll join you but I can't eat much. This dress is killing me already."

Roman just nodded and smiled.

When all of them looked at Irina. She nodded shyly.

"What's wrong with you Irina? You've been acting weird lately." Marina said after noticing something weird about her friend while Elena just rolled her eyes. Already aware of what's going on with Irina.

"Ah? Nothing. I just.." Irina panicked a little.

Fortunately for her, Alexei was in a hurry as he noticed the sons and daughters of the nobles and aristocrats were slowly gathering around them.

"Let's go. We're going to the kitchen." Alexei said and began walking towards the direction of the palace kitchen.

Irina sighed in relief as they followed Alexei.

It didn't take them long to arrive. Alexei found the kitchen far too crowded for them to eat comfortably, so he decided to lead his friends to the dining hall instead and told them to wait there. He then returned to the kitchen and found Yuri, who promptly arranged everything Alexei had requested.

As Alexei walked back to the dining hall, his mind began to wander. He wondered if he should start introducing foods and delicacies from the future. The dishes of this era, especially in Russia, didn't quite suit his taste. He wasn't a great cook himself, but with enough trial and error, he was confident he could recreate flavors close to the originals he remembered.

Another one for my bucket list, he thought with faint amusement.

When he returned, he found his friends teasing Irina, who looked on the verge of tears.

"What did I miss?" Alexei asked, walking toward the table before sitting down beside Roman.

"Nothing," Marina replied with a mysterious smile, clearly changing the topic. "So… where's our food?"

"It'll be delivered soon," Alexei said, raising an eyebrow at her before turning his attention to Irina. "Are you all right?"

Irina looked up, and when she met his concerned gaze, her face immediately flushed. She looked down at once, unable to meet his eyes.

Alexei frowned slightly and glanced toward Elena for an explanation.

Seeing his look, Elena said cryptically, "She likes a certain someone."

That was enough to send the entire table into laughter, except for Irina, whose embarrassment deepened, and Alexei, who silently pieced everything together.

He gave Irina a quick, unreadable look before glancing away to avoid any misunderstanding. She'll get over it soon, he hoped silently.

To shift the mood, Alexei changed the topic, asking about what they had been doing over the past months and how they were handling the growing unrest. That was all the encouragement Marina needed, she began talking animatedly, her words tumbling over one another until the food finally arrived.

The group ate together, laughing and chatting as they went. Irina, though initially disappointed that Alexei hadn't asked who she liked, quickly forgot her dismay once she saw the meal laid out before them. Her mother had forced her to eat sparingly earlier that day, insisting she maintain her figure if she hoped to impress the tsarevich. But the delicious aroma and variety before her proved too tempting, hunger easily defeated discipline. She ate heartily, and no matter how much she consumed anyway, it seemed to make little difference to her slim figure.

When they finished, Alexei apologized and told his friends he had other matters to attend to. Thankfully, they were far more understanding now that they were older and let him go without complaint.

Back in his room, Alexei immediately undressed from his elaborate attire and sank into the chair by the hearth with a tired sigh. He noticed Anya had already prepared his bed and was now readying his bath.

When she was finished, he said quietly, "You can rest now, Anya. And don't get sick this time."

"Thank you, Your Highness," she replied with a bow before leaving.

"You too, Sednev," Alexei added when he noticed Sednev still lingering nearby.

Once both of them were gone, Alexei finally allowed himself to relax, the weight of the day slowly lifting off his shoulders.

If only he could choose not to celebrate his birthday like this every year. But that wasn't possible, his parents had made that clear. He understood the necessity of showing his face to the nobility and the public from time to time, a reminder that the imperial heir was healthy and present. Still, understanding didn't make him like the process.

Alexei exhaled heavily, trying to clear his mind. He leaned back against the chair, closed his eyes, and allowed the fatigue of the day to settle before finally standing up and heading to the washroom. The cool water helped wash away the sticky sweat and lingering tension that clung to him after hours of forced smiles and endless greetings.

When he was done and dressed again, he lingered by the window, listening for any sound that might suggest his parents were calling for him to return to the party. None came. He figured they were used to it by now, his quiet disappearances during palace events had become something of a habit, even when the celebration was supposedly meant for him.

As the night deepened and the palace fell into its usual stillness, Alexei moved. He slipped out through the window with practiced ease, landing softly on the grass below. The air was crisp and cold, brushing against his skin like a whisper. Without hesitation, he darted across the courtyard and scaled the outer wall, vanishing into the forest that bordered the southern edge of the palace grounds.

The trees closed around him like shadows, their branches swaying gently under the moonlight. He ran swiftly, his breath steady and controlled. Occasionally, he could hear the distant howl of wolves echoing across the frozen stillness, but it didn't bother him. His focus was elsewhere, he had only one goal tonight, to practice his shooting and release the frustration that had built up throughout the day.

As he ran, his thoughts drifted to his grandfather from his first life, a grizzled old man who had spent his later years on the outskirts of the city, where the sound of gunfire wouldn't disturb anyone. Alexei remembered watching him as a child, the smell of gunpowder clinging to his clothes, his hands rough and steady as he cleaned his rifle after every session.

His grandfather had been a soldier once, a quiet, disciplined man hardened by war, yet strangely gentle with his family. He used to tell Alexei that shooting wasn't always about hitting the target, sometimes it was about finding stillness in the noise.

Back then, Alexei never understood why the old man would waste so much money on bullets, tiny bits of metal that couldn't feed or clothe anyone. Especially when they were barely getting by. But now, he understood a little better. There was something cleansing in the act itself, the repetition, the focus, the crack of the rifle echoing in the distance. Perhaps his grandfather had been trying to silence his own thoughts, just as Alexei was trying to silence his.

His grandfather had never gotten the chance to teach him how to fire a rifle, or even how to hold one properly. His parents had been strict, forbidding him from touching any kind of weapon and his grandfather respected that. They moved to the city before he was ever allowed to try, and not long after, his grandfather passed away. The memory still stung a bit.

The journey to his destination took nearly half an hour on foot, even with his speed. He knew the path well by now, an old clearing hidden deep within the forest, once used as a military practice ground decades ago. It was far enough from the palace that no one could hear the shots, not even the guards posted along the perimeter.

When he arrived, he took a deep breath of the cold night air. The moon hung high above, casting a pale silver light over the clearing. It was quiet, just the way he liked it.

He set down the small satchel he had brought, took out his small shovel, and moved toward the spot where he had buried his rifle and revolver from previous outings. After confirming he was in the right place, he began digging into the cold earth. The soil gave way easily under his practiced movements and strength until the shovel struck wood with a dull thud.

Setting the shovel aside, he brushed the remaining dirt from the surface and carefully pried open the lid of the box. Inside, everything was just as he had left it, his rifle, revolver, and several boxes of ammunition, perfectly dry and untouched by time.

He didn't waste a moment. With calm precision, Alexei assembled and inspected each piece, the faint metallic clicks of metal against metal echoing softly in the night air.

For the first time that day, as he gripped the rifle in his hands, Alexei felt truly free.

Alexei scanned the clearing, the moonlight filtering faintly through the trees. The ground was firm and flat enough. He pulled several makeshift targets from his satchel, small wooden boards he had prepared days earlier, and began setting them up at varying distances: fifty yards, one hundred, one hundred and fifty, and two hundred. He paced each distance carefully, measuring by instinct and habit.

Once everything was in place, he returned to his starting point and chambered a round. The rifle's bolt slid forward with a satisfying click. He took a deep breath, braced the stock against his shoulder, aimed at the fifty yards target and squeezed the trigger.

Crack!

The sound split the still air and echoed into the forest. A faint puff of dust rose from the first target. He focused with his enhanced senses and saw the bullet had struck the bullseye. Not surprising, he had practiced at longer distances before. This was just a warm-up.

He aimed at the hundred-yard target next, inhaled deeply, and fired.

Crack!

Another bullseye. He nodded in quiet satisfaction and shifted to the one-hundred-fifty-yard target.

Crack!

This time, the bullet landed just half an inch off the center. Still an improvement, he thought. Without hesitation, he aimed at the farthest target, two hundred yards, and fired again.

Crack!

Alexei rolled his shoulders, feeling the stiffness ease before walking closer to inspect. At a hundred and fifty yards, his vision remained sharp, but beyond that, even with his enhanced senses, the darkness made things difficult. The bullet had landed nearly two inches off center. He clicked his tongue, disappointed that he hadn't met his self-imposed one-inch deviation goal, but the feeling passed quickly. He returned to his firing position and resumed.

He aimed and fired again, one target after another. Shot after shot, the rifle spoke, its rhythmic cracks blending with the night wind. Every pull of the trigger drained a little of the tension that had built up inside him today, especially the frustration.

Every time he reloaded, he paused briefly to steady his breathing, adjusted his stance, and fired again. It went on until only four bullets remained in his quota for the night. Then he switched to his revolver. The weapon was smaller but demanded finer control. He practiced drawing, reloading, and firing in quick succession, mostly aiming at the fifty, and hundred-yard targets. His shots weren't perfect, there was always a slight one-inch deviation, but precision wasn't what he sought tonight. It was focus, control, and release.

By the time he finished, the acrid scent of gunpowder hung thick in the air. A light sheen of sweat clung to his brow despite the cold. He exhaled slowly, lowering the revolver, and for the first time in hours, felt a rare calm settle over him.

He took a moment to rest, scanning the perimeter for movement. The wolves and other animals had long scattered from the gunfire, but curious ears, human ones, were always a possibility. When he was sure he was alone, he turned back to his rifle.

He loaded the last four rounds and focused. Slowly, he guided his qi into each bullet, just the right amount he was already familiar with. Once they were properly infused, he layered his sharpness and durability augmentations onto them. When everything felt right, he aimed and fired in swift succession.

Crack! Crack! Crack! Crack!

Each shot tore through the night. The bullets punched cleanly through the wooden targets, shattering them and slamming into the trees behind with destructive force. When the echoes faded, no targets remained standing, only splintered wood scattered across the clearing.

Alexei walked forward, inspecting the mess. The augmented rounds packed far more power than ordinary ones, obliterating everything in their path within their effective range. It was a satisfying sight, but also a reminder of why he reserved them for last.

After a moment of quiet satisfaction, he began tidying the area. He gathered the debris, brushed away the footprints, and smoothed out the disturbed soil. When he was done, he returned to his little cache beneath the trees.

There, he sat down, cleaned the rifle and revolver with practiced precision, and placed them back into the box. He lowered it carefully into the pit, covered it with soil, and patted the ground flat until not a trace remained.

When he finally stood, the night was still again, silent and peaceful. The moonlight glinted faintly off the treetops as he slung his satchel over his shoulder.

He took one last look at the clearing, then turned and disappeared into the darkness, the sound of his boots fading softly into the wind.

Tonight, he'll sleep soundly.

 

[ImperatorXCV]

When the October Manifesto was signed and proclaimed, the strikes in Saint Petersburg officially came to an end. Although some still wanted the unrest to continue and bring further chaos to the city, they could not press on, as the majority of its people were satisfied with the outcome, especially the Russian liberals. The same could not be said for other cities, however. Radical socialists and revolutionaries, who had strong bases elsewhere, denounced the October Manifesto and called for an armed uprising to overthrow the tsarist government. Alexei shook his head as he heard the news. Even with the major concessions his father had made, Nicholas II still could not please everyone.

Perhaps his father had been waiting for this moment, or perhaps he was simply venting his frustration toward his rebellious people. The crackdown and suppression resumed with renewed and brutal vigor against the unrest spreading in other cities. Factory workers, farmers, and mutinous soldiers organized strikes and uprisings, but they were swiftly and ruthlessly crushed by the military after fierce fighting. When the Trans-Baikal Railway fell into the hands of the strikers and mutinous soldiers returning from Manchuria after the Russo-Japanese War ended, his father did not hesitate to act. He dispatched loyal troops along the Trans-Siberian Railway and ordered them to bombard the rebels. The result was heavy casualties among the opposition and the restoration of order along the railway line.

Even after the brutal crackdowns and suppression of both major and minor uprisings throughout the empire, the unrest did not truly end. People still held demonstrations from time to time, unwilling to let their grievances fade. This was the first major upheaval the empire had faced since Alexei was reborn in this timeline. The worst part is he couldn't do anything about it and could only prepare for the worst outcome in case his family was overthrown.

The establishment of the Duma was met with passion and ambition among the people. It was heralded as the dawn of a new era, a promise of reform and a genuine representation of the people's voice in the government. Many saw it as a symbol that Imperial Russia was finally taking its first steps toward progress.

But even before the State Duma held its first session, cracks had already begun to form. Many of its promised powers faced resistance from the tsarist government. Alexei did not know how his father managed it, but when the Duma finally convened, it found itself trapped and deprived of the authority it had been promised. According to the revised Fundamental Laws of the Russian Empire, the Tsar still retained supreme power, including the right to appoint or dismiss ministers and the power of veto. The State Duma quickly discovered that it could accomplish little without violating these revised laws. Defeated and frustrated, many of its elected officials resigned within just a few days of the first session.

Elected officials tried to rally support from the populace to rise again, but they found themselves without a base, thanks to the government's relentless suppression and crackdowns. When the State Duma's members turned to their affluent backers for help, they discovered that they had been abandoned. The Duma's wealthy supporters, liberal nobles, landowners, and certain government officials, quickly withdrew their backing when they realized that the Duma intended to pass laws that ran counter to their interests and, in some cases, directly harmed them. With their support cut off from the ground up, the Duma stood isolated and powerless.

Alexei couldn't help but feel a trace of amusement at these sudden turns of events. It reminded him of a series he had watched and read in his first life, the Game of Thrones. Backstabbing, treachery and intrigue, it seemed, were just as rampant in this era as in that fictional world.

Another one in his writing lists. He noted at some point.

His father did not let the opportunity pass him by and swiftly dealt a fatal blow to the State Duma by dissolving it. The Duma never even had the chance to prove itself before being suppressed by both the tsarist government and its former supporters. Alexei had to admire his father's decisiveness and cunning, though he was certain it was the advisors and ministers who had orchestrated much of the work behind the scenes.

—--

August 1906

It had been four months since Alexei left the capital to visit the military camps surrounding it. His mother approved of his visits to the nearby camps but forbade him from traveling to those farther away. She understood that, as Tsarevich, her son needed to build his image and establish a rapport with the soldiers, especially the officers, yet she could not bear the thought of him being too far from her.

Alexei had grown increasingly irritated by his mother's constant monitoring and controlling nature. At first, he had understood it as an expression of her love and concern, but he soon realized it was simply too much. Perhaps his mother, Alexandra, had grown accustomed to having influence over his father, Nicholas, who often yielded to her wishes, and now she wanted to exert that same control over him.

But not this time. Alexei had resolved that no one would control him in this life. Freedom was what he sought above all else, and not even his mother could take it from him. He knew, however, that the day would come when he would have to defy her wishes, and he could only hope that doing so would not irreparably damage their bond as mother and son.

He looked ahead at the procession as they made their way back to Saint Petersburg. His father had assigned him a company of 250 soldiers for his first journey alone. What should have been a three-day trip on horseback had stretched much longer because of the baggage, supplies, and provisions they brought with them.

They hadn't taken the train this time because someone had sabotaged the tracks leading to the capital. Repairs would take at least a month, and they couldn't wait that long, or rather, he couldn't. The captain suggested taking another train route that circled around and would take nearly two weeks, but Alexei wanted nothing to do with that. He insisted on traveling on horseback instead.

Luckily, the captain and Nagorny, who was in charge of his safety, didn't push back too hard and eventually agreed. Later, Alexei found out that they had secretly contacted his father for permission, and only after the military regiments around the area guaranteed his safety did they receive it. He shook his head at that. He couldn't even decide his own itinerary.

Noticing that they still haven't moved he finally asked, "What happened?"

"I'll check up front, Your Highness." Sednev didn't wait for Alexei's reply and urged his horse forward, while Nagorny stayed close beside him. A squad of soldiers, personally assigned by his father as his personal guards, followed Nagorny's gestures and soon he was surrounded.

"Tsk." Alexei couldn't help but feel annoyed by how overprotective they were, but he let it slide. He knew Nagorny wouldn't listen to him when it came to his safety anyway.

The worst part of this journey was having to deal with the sons of nobles and prominent figures in the empire who joined him under the excuse of gaining experience. When they heard that the Tsarevich would be touring the military camps around Saint Petersburg, they wasted no time using their family connections and favors just to get their sons included, hoping they would gain favor with him. Alexei wasn't sure how his mother chose who could come, but there were far too many for his liking.

When the trip began, more than thirty young heirs and noble sons accompanied him. Now, only about twenty remained. The others had given up, unable to handle the long travel and the lack of excitement along the way. Still, Alexei had to give some credit to those who stayed, the fact that they endured this far said something about their character, even if it was only on the surface.

He couldn't afford to act snobbish or distant toward them. If they had questions, he answered them, if they invited him to join their games and he found them interesting, he joined in. He understood that the purpose of this trip was to build a strong impression among the soldiers and to thank them for their service during these troubled times. Without their loyalty, he knew his family might not have survived this long. So, he decided to extend that same purpose to these noble sons and heirs, to make connections that might one day prove just as important.

It didn't take long for Sednev to come back and based on his expression, he was sure it would be another delay.

"I'm sorry, Your Highness. We'll have to camp here for the night. There's been a landslide not far from here that blocked the road ahead. The captain said we can't take another route since he's unsure about its safety. But he promised we'll be able to continue our journey before midday tomorrow," Sednev reported.

He just nodded. Already expecting it. The noble sons and heirs who accompanied him, however, couldn't help but complain about another delay. They were subtle about it but with his sharp hearing, he heard them clearly. He was already accustomed to their day to day grumbling so he acted like he didn't hear anything and said to Sednev.

"Start setting up my tent. I want to rest."

"Yes, Your Highness," Sednev replied, then began barking orders to the servants.

Alexei guided his horse towards the shade of a big tree, dropped down from his horse and undid his hat. The heat of the sun was at its peak of the day but it was bearable. He gently rubbed the horse's neck a few times before handing the reins towards the servant who followed him.

"Give him some water."

"Yes. Your highness." The servant bowed then guided the horse away.

The soldiers began clearing space for the camp. Alexei watched as they measured the distance between each tent, making sure everything was set up neatly and in parallel rows. He remembered their first camp earlier in the journey back, they had looked more like a fairground from his first life, with tents scattered everywhere and no clear sense of order. You wouldn't even know where the exit was.

Sure, the soldiers were disciplined during formation and marching, but when it came to setting up camp, they simply did whatever felt convenient for them. Alexei wouldn't allow that however. They were on duty and responsible for his safety, there was no room for disorder and chaos if an attack happened. So he confronted the captain about it and made sure he understood the importance of an organized camp. Fortunately, the captain didn't make things difficult and began following his instructions without protest.

The captain, Kirill Vokov, did everything he could to impress Alexei. The marching discipline was top notch and the formation of soldiers when it was call time was fast enough for Alexei's taste. But when it comes to setting up camps, he'd give him a C if this was an evaluation. What's good for him though was that he adapted quickly when he was corrected.

He noticed a few nobles walking toward him and couldn't help but sigh. What do they want now?

When they were close enough, they stopped and gave a slight bow.

"Your Highness, since there's still time before nightfall, how about we go on a hunt? This forest is a bit sparser than others, but it still has plenty of game," Aleksandr Ivanov said, who was leading the group.

His father, Count Ivanov, was a wealthy man with many connections, so it wasn't hard to understand how his son had managed to be included in Alexei's entourage.

Alexei thought for a moment before replying, "Sure. Come find me once you've finished preparing."

"Excellent. Then, excuse us, Your Highness." Aleksandr bowed again before turning and leaving with his followers.

Alexei frowned slightly as he watched them walk away. He didn't particularly like this Aleksandr. The young man was the very definition of a bully and a schemer. The only difference now was that Aleksandr hid it well, using his lackeys to do the dirty work for him. Alexei wasn't entirely sure, but he suspected that three nobles of lower status had already become their targets of bullying since the journey started.

Still, Alexei decided to let it be. He wasn't interested in playing the hero unless it benefited him. Even so, he kept his eyes open, just in case something interesting happened.

He took his eyes away from the departing nobles as he noticed Nagorny approached him from the side.

"I don't think it is wise to stay away from the camp, your highness. Our situation bothers me. First the train tracks that would supposedly take you back to the capital got damaged. Now, a landslide during summer? Only a fool would believe that's normal." Nagorny said heavily.

Alexei noted the informal tone Nagorny uses in their conversation in the past weeks. That means he was relaxing his always formal way of conversation with him. He was glad that their bond during these past months got them closer. From teaching him how to ride a horse to teaching him how to fire a rifle and revolvers.

Of course, the teaching didn't really result in anything as he was just acting. The act of not knowing something even though in truth he is already a master of it didn't affect him now, in fact he got used to it. Ten years of acting like a child got him quite good at it.

If this were a century later, he thought wryly, I'd probably win an Oscar for it.

Still, he needed Nagorny and Sednev on his side sooner if he wanted someone to cover for him if he was caught. Especially now that he had a conquest to do after returning.

He nodded toward Nagorny then gestured towards the soldiers doing the work. "The captain already noticed the situation. Look, only half of the soldiers are doing the work while the others remain on high alert. I'm sure the captain will visit us later to tell us what he found out. Relax, Nagorny, I don't mind a firefight if it comes to that. You know what I'm capable of."

Nagorny shook his head slightly. "There's a difference between practice and a real battle, Your Highness. The hunts you've done these past few months don't even come close. Please don't take this lightly. Your safety is my utmost priority."

Alexei frowned a little but eventually sighed and nodded. "Fine. Let's wait for the captain's report before deciding whether to call off the hunt."

Nagorny seemed satisfied with that. He bowed, then returned to his squad of guards, reminding them to stay alert.

Alexei watched quietly, then sat down and leaned against the tree behind him. He wasn't afraid of a battle, if anything, he longed for one. The monotonous journey he spent in the past months made him a little bit restless. Even the morning exercises he did every morning couldn't cover for it. He desperately hoped that if someone planned to attack, they would do it sooner. That's when the adrenaline rush he almost forgot the feeling would wash his body.

As for the brats who accompanied him. Well, they made their bed with him the moment their parents sent them to him. They knew that the monarchy was in hot waters right now but still sent their precious children with him. He could only shake his head internally at that.
He eventually grew bored of watching the soldiers and the bustle around him, so he decided to continue working on the draft of his new novel. He called over the servant who had been hovering nearby and asked for his writing materials. Once everything was handed to him, he began to write.

Alexei soon lost all sense of time, completely absorbed in his work, and only snapped out of it when Sednev returned with a report.

"Your tent is ready, Your Highness. It's quite hot at the moment, so we set it up beneath the biggest tree we could find."

Alexei paused, gently gathered and organized his papers, then stood up. "Let's go."

Sednev led the way toward the tent, with Nagorny and Alexei's personal guards following close behind. When they arrived, Alexei asked, "What about the captain? Is he still occupied?"

"I checked earlier, he should be here to report to you any minute now. He was organizing the soldiers to clear a path so the carriages can pass through," Sednev replied as he opened the tent curtains and gestured for Alexei to enter.

Alexei nodded and stepped inside. The tent lacked some of the comforts appropriate for someone of his status, but he didn't mind. He placed his papers on the small desk and arranged them neatly before sitting down.

He undid a few buttons at the collar of his shirt and exhaled. "I'm going to change into something lighter. Prepare it for me," he said, and Sednev silently set to work. In no time, everything was ready.

After Alexei finished changing, the captain arrived and requested an audience. Alexei gave permission, and the captain entered after being checked by Nagorny.

"Good afternoon, your highness. Sorry it took me a while to report. I was checking on the soldiers' progress to make sure we can continue our journey tomorrow," the captain said with a bow.

Alexei nodded and gestured toward a chair. "No problem. Please, sit."

"Thank you, your highness." The captain sat down and began his report. "The landslide wasn't natural. It looks like someone planned it to slow us down or trap us here. I also received a message from the 21st Regiment of the infantry division stationed nearby, they reported sightings of possible bandits in the area, but nothing too serious. They're still scouting the surroundings right now as we speak."

He paused to take a sip of wine Sednev handed him, then continued, "There's no real danger at the moment. If anything happens, the 21st Regiment can reinforce us quickly. The 22nd Regiment also sent a battalion to follow behind us until we reach the capital."

The captain frowned slightly. "What's troubling is that someone clearly intended to attack us here, but abandoned the idea once they realized both regiments were close by. You don't need to worry about your safety, your highness. We're safe to camp here tonight and continue on tomorrow." He nodded toward Nagorny and Sednev as he finished.

Alexei furrowed his brows. For a moment, he felt a flicker of disappointment at the captain's report, but he quickly took a deep breath and pushed the feeling down. To everyone else, it probably looked like he was relieved that they had avoided danger. He didn't care what they thought though. He looked at the captain and asked, "The nobles want to go hunting around here. What do you think?"

"They already approached me for permission, your highness," the captain replied. "I wasn't going to agree at first, but after receiving the reports from the regiments, I eventually allowed it. I've already sent men to scout the forest, and the nobles can go once they return. Are you planning to join them, your highness?"

Alexei nodded. "Yes." Then he glanced at Nagorny with a slight smirk. "Looks like the hunt will continue."

Nagorny only nodded, his brows drawn tight.

"Is that all, captain?" Alexei asked, hinting that the meeting was over.

"Yes, your highness. I'll take my leave then. I need to arrange additional security for your hunting party." He stood up, and after Alexei thanked him, he bowed and left the tent.

When he heard the sound of the captain's horse fading into the distance, Alexei stood up and told Sednev to prepare his hunting gear.

Nagorny excused himself as well, heading out to ready the guards. He planned to bring all of them along and leave only the servants behind, he wasn't taking any chances.

Once everything was in order, Alexei went back to writing, continuing his draft while waiting for the hunt to begin. When he finally finished, he wrote the title on the first page of the stack of papers. The adventure of Tarzan.

Just then, the tent flaps opened and Sednev stepped inside. "Excuse me, your highness. The hunt is about to start. The nobles are already waiting for you at the edge of the forest."

Alexei didn't respond immediately, he carefully arranged the stack of papers first. Only when he was done did he say, "Alright. Let's go." He stood up, walked over to where his hunting rifle hung, and picked it up. After slinging it over his shoulder, he stepped outside, with Sednev following closely behind.

—--

They had been walking for over an hour, yet they still hadn't found a single animal. Even the trackers they brought along couldn't find any fresh traces. The scouts the captain sent ahead had likely scared off most of the wildlife. Still, the group continued deeper into the forest. The nobles didn't seem to mind the lack of game, they treated the hunting more like a chance to hike, chat, and gossip while their attendants trailed behind them.

Another hour passed before the trackers finally found signs of animals. They followed the tracks, and soon enough, they spotted the source, a lone hare quietly nibbling on leaves not far ahead. The trackers signaled for everyone to stop, and the group froze in place.

Alexei glanced back at the nobles, silently asking who wanted the first shot. As usual, they all gestured for him to go ahead. Even Aleksandr, standing among his usual circle of lackeys, gave him a nod and a smile. Alexei didn't like that smile though, it looked more like a challenge. Aleksandr had been hoping to see him miss ever since their first hunting trip. He knew that much from his facial expressions which he couldn't hide from him. He didn't get his wish then, and he certainly wouldn't now.

Alexei raised his rifle, lining up the sight with his eyes and steadying his breath. He waited patiently for the perfect moment. When the hare fully exposed itself, head and all, he pulled the trigger. Crack. The hare dropped instantly, without even a twitch.

For a moment, no one said anything. Then slowly, applause broke out, one noble after another joining in.

"As expected of the tsarevich! A clean shot," Aleksandr called out, leading the clapping.

Alexei's lips twitched, then turned around, simply nodded toward them and walked toward the fallen hare. He crouched beside it, checking to see whether he had hit where he intended. The hollowed eye and the exposed area behind it confirmed the shot. He smiled. His aim was clearly improving.

Soon, the nobles dispersed with their attendants and personal trackers in tow, each clearly determined to bring home a trophy this time. Alexei followed his own trackers at a leisurely pace, with Nagorny and Sednev close behind. This might be the last time for a while that he would be able to go hunting, and he wanted to make the most of it.

Though by the end of it, he only managed to find two game, another hare and a boar. All dead with a single shot. By now Nagorny and Sednev were used to it. They were shocked at first the first time he hit the targets cleanly but eventually got used to it. They were already used to the many skills by their tsarevich. Heck, they were exposed everyday to the peculiarities of his morning exercises and then some.

Alexei was about to turn around as the servant finished packing up his game when he noticed something moving about 250 yards ahead. He stopped.

"What's wrong, Your Highness?" Nagorny, who always kept his eyes on Alexei, immediately noticed his hesitation. He followed the boy's line of sight and tensed. He couldn't see anything, but he knew Alexei had sharp eyes. If the tsarevich stopped, there had to be a reason.

Alexei remained silent for a moment. After he confirmed it wasn't a person and that nothing seemed amiss in their surroundings, he finally spoke. "Follow me."

Nagorny knew there was no persuading him to turn back, not when the tsarevich's curiosity had been piqued. But he also wouldn't allow Alexei to take the lead. He stepped in front of him. "Let us go first, Your Highness. Please just follow behind. Which direction?"

"That way." Alexei pointed toward the spot where he had seen the movement, even now, he could catch a flicker of motion from time to time.

Nagorny turned to Sednev. "Stay close to the tsarevich."

Sednev nodded and readied his rifle.

Nagorny signaled to the guards, and they began to advance slowly.

The slow advance felt like an eternity to Alexei. After what seemed like an hour, they reached the area where he had seen the movement. There, they found a wolf and two little pups wandering around their mother's motionless body. Even then, they didn't move any closer right away, choosing instead to look carefully around the area. Alexei did the same, checking every possible hiding spot behind the bushes and trees. He refused to lower his guard, even though he didn't sense any danger. Once he was sure no one was hiding or waiting to ambush them, he relaxed slightly. Nagorny glanced at him, and Alexei nodded, letting him know it was safe.

Nagorny turned and signaled to the guards to look around the rest of the area, just to be sure. Then he stepped toward the wolf to examine it. He picked up a stick nearby and gently poked the wolf to check if it was truly dead. When it didn't move at all, even after several pokes, he eased up. He looked back at Alexei and said, "It's dead."

Alexei smiled. "Obviously." After a moment, he added, "What do you think happened?"

Nagorny shrugged. "I don't know. I'll check the body. Come on, Sednev. Take these two first."

He crouched down and picked up the black and white wolf pups, handing them to Sednev. The pups squirmed at first but eventually settled once Sednev held them comfortably.

Nagorny then examined the wolf's body with the help of the guards. They gently turned it over to look for any wounds. After checking thoroughly, Nagorny reported, "There's a gunshot wound on its shoulder. I didn't see any other injuries. It must have been shot and then ran here. The wound isn't fresh, so I think it was shot yesterday and managed to survive long enough to give birth to these pups." He nodded toward the pups, now fast asleep in Sednev's arms.

Alexei looked at the dead wolf for a moment, then said, "Let's go. The others should be heading back by now."

"What about these pups?" Sednev asked, gently rocking them in his arms as if he were soothing a baby.

Alexei's lips twitched before he answered, "We'll take them back for now."

Sednev smiled, while Nagorny remained silent at that and instructed the guards to prepare for the return.

They hadn't gone far when a group of soldiers, sent by the lieutenant in charge of the hunting party's security, found them. The soldiers reported that the others had already been sent back and that Alexei's group was the only one remaining.

Nagorny told them they were already returning, and the soldiers let out a sigh of relief. They had no authority to order nobles around, but if anything happened to them, the blame always fell on the soldiers. Knowing the last group was finally heading back, especially the most important group of the bunch, was a great relief for them.

When they stepped out of the forest. It was already bustling with activity as the soldiers prepared for their dinner and with a lot of game hunted by the nobles and the soldiers as they did their own hunting activity. It was quite a site. Even so, Alexei checked if the security was still tight and was satisfied that it still was.

He was about to head to his tent when a young noble heir approached with his attendant. They didn't get close as Nagorny stopped them about ten steps away. When he asked what they wanted, the noble heir answered, though he spoke with a slight stutter.

"I… I would like to request an audience with His Highness."

Nagorny didn't answer and instead looked at Alexei, waiting for his answer.

Alexei frowned. He recognized the boy as someone who was often bullied by Aleksandr and the others. Since it was still early, he decided to grant the request. "Let them follow us to the tent," he said.

With that, he walked off, followed by Sednev, Nagorny, and the guards. The noble heir hesitated for a moment, then eventually followed.

Alexei sat in his comfortable chair as soon as he entered his tent. He immediately unbuttoned a couple of buttons on his shirt and took off his shoes. Once he was done, he let himself relax. The hunting itself hadn't been tiring, but constantly showing his best side and appearing honorable in front of everyone certainly was.

He glanced at Sednev, who had followed him inside without the wolf pups. "Where are they?"

"I gave them to the handler of the hunting dogs, Your Highness. They have more experience than me," Sednev replied. He then took a pair of sandals from the rack, knelt on one knee in front of Alexei, and put them on for him. "You still have guests waiting outside, Your Highness. You can't receive them without something on your feet."

Alexei didn't respond to that, and once he saw Sednev finished fastening the sandals, he said, "Well, bring that man in. Let's hear what he has to say."

"As you wish, Your Highness," Sednev replied and left.

Soon after, he returned with the noble heir and his attendant in tow.

—----

Vasily Kurakin had never stood in front of a royal before. Even when his father sent him on this expedition with the tsarevich, he always kept his distance and only greeted Alexei from afar along with the others. He simply couldn't handle the pressure and anxiety of being around people above his rank, and the bullying he had suffered since he was younger from the other noble sons had only made his fear worse.

Unfortunately, no matter how hard he tried to remain invisible in the group his father had forced him into, someone still took notice of him, not the tsarevich, whom he avoided carefully, but one of the noble heirs already known for constantly bullying others.

He had no choice but to put up with it. The past month had been a constant struggle of torment and pressure, but he survived. Each time he reminded himself that he would be going home soon, he felt a wave of relief and comfort. Still, he had a mission he needed to complete, the reason his father had spent so much money and called in so many favors just to place him near the tsarevich. He had been avoiding it for months, but now he had no choice but to face his fears and carry it out. Otherwise, his father would have his hide. He knew exactly how important this matter was to his family.

The moment he saw the tsarevich seated, he froze for a second before forcing himself to take a step forward. When they finally stopped in front of Alexei, he glanced at his attendant for support. After seeing him nod, Vasily took a deep breath, bowed, and said, "Good afternoon, Your Highness. My… My name is Vasily Kurakin, second son of Baron Fyodor Kurakin."

He forced himself to look at the tsarevich after that, surprisingly, he held the gaze on. Even though the tsarevich didn't reply immediately and only looked at him without much emotion. He couldn't even tell if he was being judged, dismissed or if the tsarevich was merely lost in thought.

After he felt that he couldn't hold the gaze any longer and was about to panic. The tsarevich spoke.

"Sit."

The word carried the weight of a command, though it was delivered without force.

"Thank you, Your Highness," he said, before taking the seat opposite the tsarevich.

Alexei did not think much of the boy seated before him. He only wished to finish the day so he could rest, or perhaps check on a few other matters as well.

Seeing that the boy remained silent even after sitting, Alexei said, "Night will fall soon, Vasily. Please speak. What is it that you want?"

"Cough… cough…"

Vasily was about to speak when he suddenly choked on his own saliva due to nervousness. He coughed several times before a servant offered him a glass of water, while his attendant gently patted his back. The water helped him recover, and he quickly tried to salvage the moment.

"I… I'm sorry, Your Highness. I'm… just a little nervous," he admitted. His mind was too clouded with anxiety to come up with any other excuse.

Alexei simply nodded, not bothering with the little mishap and waited for him to explain the reason he had requested an audience. If this was a plea for protection from Aleksandr, he would dismiss him immediately, he had no patience for petty disputes.

After nearly a minute, Vasily finally gathered his courage and spoke. "I came because my father instructed me to deliver something to you, Your Highness." He gestured to his attendant, who handed the documents he carried to Sednev. Sednev examined them briefly before passing them to Alexei.

When Alexei only glanced at the front page without turning to the next, Vasily hurried to add, "That's… uhm… my father said he wished to request a meeting with you, Your Highness, but he was unable to do so. So he asked me to personally deliver that document."

"Hmm… Anything else?" Alexei asked, still not flipping the pages. He would review the contents when he had the time.

Vasily nodded at once. "My father also said he can explain everything clearly in person if given the chance. You may summon him whenever it is convenient for you, Your Highness. Our address is included in the document."

He let out a long breath then, releasing the tension that had been coiled inside him. The task his father entrusted to him was finally complete. He could finally sleep peacefully. He even allowed himself a small smile.

"Very well. If that is all, Sednev will show you out. I still have matters to attend to," Alexei said, rising from his seat.

"Of course, Your Highness. Thank you for your time." Vasily bowed and left with his attendant. Once outside, he couldn't help but glance back. The meeting had been surprisingly simple and quick. He had stumbled at the start, but the tsarevich had not seemed bothered by his nervousness, unlike others who would have mocked or scolded him for it.

He turned to Sednev, who had guided them out. "Thank you for showing us the way. We'll be leaving now." After receiving a polite nod, he departed with his attendant.

Alexei set the document down beside his drafts just as Sednev returned. "What do you think?" he asked.

Sednev understood what the tsarevich meant and replied, "Some people already know that you are the author behind the novels currently making waves throughout the empire, Your Highness. It was only a matter of time. Especially now that you plan to translate them into other languages and need someone familiar with trade overseas. From what I've heard, Baron Fyodor Kurakin has business dealings with the United States. They mostly trade agricultural goods, but they have also exported literature before."

"Hmmm…" Alexei nodded thoughtfully.

Seeing that he had his tsarevich's attention, Sednev continued, "Ï think they also know that they couldn't deal with Pavel Yurovsky, your personal publisher, as everything related to the company has to go through you. There is not really a secret in the palace, your highness. As long as it's not confidential like those in the military. Nobles and aristocrats could figure out what's what after some careful digging."

Alexei couldn't help but look at his attendant. Sednev didn't look like much but he's observant to everyone around him.

"That's a very detailed analysis coming from you, Sednev. I didn't think you could come up with that." Alexei praised him with a smile.

Sednev on the other hand just smiled in return before saying. "That's what I observe working in the palace these past years, your highness. You would be surprised to know that the servants know more about palace gossip than the nobles living in it. It's just a question if they could keep their mouths shut or not."

Alexei nodded. "You're right. Do you think Mother was the one preventing anyone from meeting with me?" He couldn't help asking. Sending their own son just to deliver documents, people truly went far when they smelled profit. He was surprised his novels had become popular. The marketing he did through the newspapers with the help of Pavel certainly helped and since he deliberately shaped them to suit the Russian tastes, the people quickly accepted them. But overseas was different, and that uncertainty was the reason he had held back on foreign releases.

"I believe so, Your Highness. Anything concerning you must pass through Her Imperial Highness," Sednev replied respectfully.

"Tsk." Alexei couldn't help but click his tongue at that. Everything he did was being watched and controlled. Fortunately, he managed to push through the publishing house. It's a first and he was sure it wouldn't be the last.

Suddenly remembering something, he asked, "Sednev, do you know why my uncle left before I finished the tour?"

"I'm not sure if I should tell you, Your Highness," Sednev replied hesitantly, avoiding Alexei's gaze.

"Just tell me about it already. I will find out sooner or later since we're already going back to the capital anyway," Alexei said impatiently. Sednev still tended to hide things from him if he thought they were inappropriate, which Alexei found irritating.
After a brief hesitation, Sednev sighed quietly. "It's a scandal, Your Highness. It is said that your uncle is involved with a married woman. He returned quickly to handle the matter."

"Hmmm…" Alexei accepted the news calmly at first, then couldn't help but chuckle. "Hehe…"

"Hmm? What is it, Your Highness?" Sednev asked.

"Nothing," Alexei said, shaking his head. He could already picture the scolding his uncle would receive from both his grandmother and father.

"Anyway, bring my dinner when it's ready. I want to rest for now." Alexei removed his sandals and flopped onto the bed.

Seeing this, Sednev bowed. "As you wish, Your Highness." Then he left.

—--

They arrived in Saint Petersburg three days after the minor delay. The journey had been tiresome, yet fortunately free from any serious danger. Without wasting time, the entourage proceeded to their final stop, the Page Corps, an elite military academy of the Russian Empire, reserved exclusively for the sons of nobles and individuals of exceptional standing. The institution, housed within the venerable Vorontsov Palace, stood as a testament to the discipline and prestige expected of those destined for high service.

Alexei stepped down from his horse with practiced grace, dressed in the military uniform Sednev had prepared for him beforehand. He needed to play the part befitting his station. He stood upright and waited for his entrance to begin with the nobles behind him doing the same. He saw the cadets and officers already lined up to receive him. He could've ridden on top of his horse while making his entrance according to Sednev but he refused it right away. He needed to show them a respectful behaviour, not too much, but enough to convey the message that he respected them. Especially now that his father and his family needed their support.

When the commandant approached and saluted, Alexei returned the gesture with equal precision.

"Your Highness," the commandant began, bowing slightly. "We are honored by your visit. The Corps stands ready for inspection."

Alexei nodded. "Let us begin, then."

The commandant signalled and the military band struck their drums. They moved along the rows slowly, Alexei examining every detail of their posture, equipment and discipline. A few cadets stiffened at his gaze, others held unwavering, determined expressions. Though tired from the journey, he carried himself with the quiet authority expected of a future emperor.

Inside the palace, he was shown the training halls, the classrooms and the sparsely furnished dormitories maintained with near-military precision. The instructors explained their curriculum, tactics, languages, history, and the arts of command. Alexei listened, offering a nod here and a brief question there.
By the time the tour concluded, afternoon had settled in. At last, it was time to leave. Alexei thanked the officers for their dedication and offered a few words of encouragement to the cadets before departing.

Once they passed through the gates of Vorontsov Palace, Alexei asked, "To Tsarskoye Selo?"

"To the Winter Palace, Your Highness," Sednev replied. "Your family moved back a week ago. One of the palace officers came earlier to confirm it."

"Oh." Alexei smiled a little at that. He wouldn't have to travel far if he visited the slums in a few days after settling in.
Alexei glanced at the nobles behind him, offering his thanks for their company over the past few months. He then told them they were free to depart if they wished. The moment his permission was given, they smiled, bowed, and left without delay.

The ride back was peaceful, thankfully. Upon arriving at the palace, he was warmly greeted by his father, mother, and sisters. He embraced them one by one, his sisters most eagerly, as they immediately demanded he read them stories later. Alexei could only nod in resigned fondness before urging them inside, but his mother suddenly paused.

"What is that?" she asked, her gaze fixed behind him.

Alexei followed her line of sight and smiled playfully. "Dog pups, Mother."

"Oh," his mother murmured, clearly unbothered by the idea of new pets. His sisters, in contrast, lit up with excitement at the sight of potential new companions.

His father, however, stepped forward with a furrowed brow, scrutinizing the small creatures held in the handler's arms. After a moment, his eyes widened. He turned sharply to Alexei and exclaimed, voice slightly raised,

"Those are wolf pups, Alexei!"

 

[ImperatorXCV]

August 1906

Alexei stepped out of the bathroom, towel in hand as he dried his hair. Clad in his bathrobe, he crossed the room and settled into the chair near the hearth, letting the warmth seep into him.

"You can go rest now, Anya," he said after noticing she was still around.

At his words, Anya reluctantly set the white wolf pup down on the cushion beside the other black. "Are you sure you can manage them, Your Highness? They might wake you in the middle of the night. If you prefer, I can let them sleep in my room and bring them back tomorrow."

He shook his head. "It's fine, Anya. If I can't handle them, I'll let you know."

Anya nodded and carefully tucked the wolf pups in. "Then I'll take my leave, Your Highness." She bowed and quietly exited the room.

Alexei watched the door close behind her before turning his attention back to the pups.

The lecture he received from his mother after that little episode was, to say the least, intense. He had forgotten that pranks and playful jokes were not exactly common, or appreciated, in this era. His mother, Alexandra, was furious that he had lied and even more so that he had brought wolf pups into the palace. When she discovered that he intended to keep them as pets, her anger and exasperation doubled. No matter what she said, Alexei refused to back down.

To strengthen his case, he even enlisted his sisters, who eagerly supported him in exchange for the small promise of new stories. Facing their united front, his father eventually stepped in to mediate and propose a compromise, if Alexei could not teach the pups to obey even a single command within three months, they would be released back into the wild.

His father then whispered to his mother that, if the opportunity arose, they would "accidentally" put the pups down. Alexei heard every word with his enhanced hearing but only smirked at that.

As if he would ever let that happen.

Alexei knew that this was only the beginning. There would be many more times in the future when he would need to stand his ground and disobey his parents. It was better, he thought, to let them experience it little by little, to show them what it was like to raise a teenage boy who was "not quite rebellious," but certainly not easy to control.

Keeping the wolf pups, however, had been more of an afterthought. He fully admitted to himself that caring for them would be costly and time-consuming, especially if he went through with the experiment he had in mind. But if it succeeded, the results could be a tremendous asset to his personal security in the future.

If they survived, He truly hoped they would.


There is only one method that he knows of that could bond him to the wolf pups. The most primitive, dangerous and the most costly for every cultivator. As it requires him to feed the pups with his blood essence.

The blood essence was the most precious possession of every cultivator aside from the dantian because it contains the cultivator's spiritual signature, will and life force. Extracting just a drop of blood essence from his body would reduce his life force and leave his body weak for a time. That was why the technique was so costly, and why few ever attempted it.

But Alexei believed it would be worth the price. If this bond allowed him to survive the trials ahead and grant him a companion that he could depend his life on, then the sacrifice of a little life force was a small one to make.

The blood essence was deadly for the one receiving it however. He needed to dilute it as much as he could if he wanted these pups to survive and live. Fortunately, he was only a level-three body cultivator, so he believed the weakened potency would be something they could endure.
Alexei rose to his feet once he had made up his mind. He picked up the milk bottle and the feeding nipples Anya had prepared, then walked over to the wolf pups and sat cross-legged on the floor. After settling himself, he closed his eyes and focused on his dantian. Carefully, he measured out a tiny amount of his blood essence, no more than one-tenth of a drop. When he was sure of the quantity, he began to separate it from the rest.

The moment he did, a wave of excruciating pain tore through him. It was the worst he had felt in this life, but he endured it. Steadying his breathing, he continued the process until the tiny portion finally came free. Guiding it toward his index finger, he lifted his hand above the milk bottle and pierced a small hole in his fingertip. A minuscule drop of blood fell. If not for his enhanced vision, he might have doubted that anything had actually left his finger.

Alexei felt something inside him weaken, as if a sliver of himself had been taken away. But he pushed the sensation aside, he wasn't finished yet. He stirred the milk using the small stick prepared earlier, making sure the essence was properly mixed. Then he poured a bit of it into the feeding nipples.

Only after everything was ready did he pause to catch his breath. It had only been a fraction of a drop, yet his body already felt lighter and weaker. Fortunately, he could still manage.

Once he had rested enough, he fed the pups. Having withheld their afternoon meal, they latched onto the nipples eagerly, drinking the milk with hungry determination.

It didn't take long for the pups to finish the milk. Alexei settled them on their cushion and before long, they fell asleep. Everything was in fate's hands now. If he woke the next morning to find them dead, he could only blame his own poor luck.

He didn't bother cleaning up the mess, he would leave that for Anya to handle tomorrow. His body was too weak and exhausted, and he desperately needed rest. Moving slowly, he walked toward his bed, slipped under the covers, and after shifting around until he found a comfortable position, he drifted off to sleep.

Alexei woke up the next day feeling weak and feeble, but he forced himself to get up and check on the pups. He walked toward them, crouched down, and observed them carefully. They, too, looked exhausted but at least they survived. Their tiny bodies trembling, and they let out soft whines from time to time, clear signs that they were in pain.

"Hold on a little longer and you guys will survive," he whispered, gently rubbing their fur with hands infused with qi and willing it to be soothing. Gradually, the pups relaxed, their trembling easing. After more than ten minutes of gentle rubbing, they finally drifted off to sleep.

They wouldn't survive another dose of his blood essence if he gave them another one later. He needed to wait until they recovered before proceeding until a full drop of blood essence was given. Maybe once a week, yes, that should do it. He wouldn't give them more than a single drop in total. He still wanted to live long enough, after all.
Alexei feigned to be tired and slightly ill throughout the entire morning just so he could stay in his room and recover. His act worked a little too well, his mother fussed over him constantly, even though she was still somewhat upset with him. She even brought a doctor to examine him, and when they found nothing serious, they reassured her that the tsarevich simply needed rest and would be fine.

Only then did his mother finally relax. She lingered for a moment longer before leaving to attend to her other duties, though not without casting a sour glance at the innocent pups resting in the corner. Alexei chuckled at that.

It was afternoon and he was resting in his bed when Sednev entered.

"Your Highness?"

"I'm awake. What is it?" Alexei asked.

"Pavel is outside, Your Highness. He's requesting a meeting to report his progress. I can tell him to return another time if you're still not feeling well," Sednev replied.

"No, send him in." Alexei rose from his bed.

"As you wish, Your Highness."

Sednev didn't leave immediately. Instead, he helped the tsarevich straighten his clothes and ensured he looked presentable before leaving.

Alexei could only shake his head before settling comfortably into the chair behind his desk.

After a short wait, Pavel Yurovsky entered and offered a respectful greeting.

"Good afternoon, Your Highness. My apologies, I wasn't aware you were unwell before coming."

"No worries. Come. Let's start immediately. You know I hate it if we don't get straight to the point of this meeting," Alexei said, gesturing for him to take the seat opposite the desk.

"Of course, Your Highness." Pavel stepped forward, sat down, and opened his briefcase. He retrieved several documents, arranged them neatly, and handed half of the stack to Alexei.

"These are the records of how many books have been sold up to July, Your Highness, figures for each title, as well as the data showing which city purchased the most."

He paused, allowing the tsarevich time to read the first set. Then he produced another group of papers and placed them carefully on the desk.

"These documents show our total earnings up to July, Your Highness. This month's numbers are not included yet. I'll have an updated report sent to you once we finalize the tally."

Alexei reviewed each document attentively. This was the very first business venture in the entirety of his lifetime, and although he was inexperienced, he was determined to see it succeed. He studied the figures, examined every detail he deemed important, and finally checked the total earnings since the business began.

"We only earned thirty five thousand rubles?" Alexei asked, eyebrows raised. He had imagined becoming wealthy with his own handiwork. Perhaps even swimming in money from his very first enterprise. But the truth, it seemed, had brought him back to reality.

Pavel cleared his throat and answered patiently. "We still have to pay the taxes and operating expenses. After deducting those, our net profit is roughly around twenty thousand rubles. You can check the figures below, Your Highness."

Alexei looked at the section detailing the profits. And he was disappointed that Pavel was correct. He thought he could earn millions in a short time with this venture alone. But it seemed it would take years before it was realized. Even with Anna and others drilling him of how much money was worth in this era. He still couldn't quite grasp the reality of it all as he was constantly reminded of the millionaires and billionaires from his first life. Added with the novels he read about reincarnators and transmigrators who made billions with their future knowledge. His earnings looked like a pittance when compared.

He took a slow breath, set the papers aside, and looked at Pavel. "What about overseas? How are we progressing on that front?"

"We've finished establishing our distribution networks in France, the German Empire, Great Britain, Italy, and the Austro-Hungarian Empire," Pavel reported, glancing at his notes. "Once the translations and prints of your books are complete, we can deliver them to these countries immediately. As for the United States, we still don't have a reliable contact there, Your Highness."

He hesitated before continuing. "Regarding our finances… The initial capital is almost depleted. We have only ten thousand rubles remaining. I don't believe that will be enough to print the number of copies planned for these foreign markets. We may need to use a portion of our profits moving forward."

Alexei rubbed his temples. He had expected expenses, especially that they are just starting. He thought for a moment before deciding. "Do it. In fact, we should expand our operations with the remaining money that we have including the profits. I already have two books ready for your proofreading and edits. I don't expect to get any profits in the first year of operation but I want to see our operations expand at least. In the future, we might have to hire writers to write all my ideas so we don't have to worry about lacking any work."

Seeing that Pavel was taking notes, he continued. "Also, I saw in the expenses that we are paying almost all our earnings in inks, papers and bookbinding materials. Look into these industries. When we have money in the future. We will buy a factory or two that produces these materials. Don't bother with the printing plates and blocks for now. That way, we're just paying money to our own company instead of handing it to others. I'm sure they'll raise their prices when they see that we are expanding our operations. It's better to be prepared. Did you get all that?"

Pavel couldn't help but look at the tsarevich newfound respect. He was thinking of suggesting the same thing as he was thinking of lessening the operating costs but it seemed it was not needed. His tsarevich already thought of the future problems that might arise. The rumors he heard around the palace and outside were far behind from what he saw. They didn't even do the tsarevich justice.

"Pavel, are you listening?" Alexei asked when he noticed Pavel staring at him oddly.

"Ah? my apologies, Your Highness. I drifted off for a moment. I've noted everything. May I offer a suggestion, Your Highness?" Pavel straightened and refocused.

Seeing he had Pavel's full attention again, Alexei nodded. "Go on."

"We could take out a bank loan, Your Highness. Everything you've outlined could be accomplished much sooner if we had more capital. We wouldn't need to wait for profits to accumulate. As you mentioned, we won't run out of manuscripts or content to publish, so the factories and operations would remain in business for a long time. With the IP's that we have and with your name, Your Highness. I'm sure many banks would line up to give us the money."

He observed Alexei's expression carefully. When the tsarevich appeared thoughtful rather than displeased, Pavel added, "What do you think, Your Highness?"

Alexei didn't answer immediately and pondered about it. Asking his father for more money was out of the question, he had already promised that he would grow the funds he was given into millions within a few years and would not need any further assistance. He intended to fulfill that promise no matter what.

After several minutes of careful consideration, he finally spoke. "You can take a loan but don't use my name in negotiations. This loan is too cheap for my name to be used. Don't you think?"

Pavel smiled at that. "Of course. I'm sorry for my blunder. It truly is too little of a money to use your name in this transaction. Don't worry, your highness. With this loan. We can already ensure that we have everything we need for stability and success. Is there anything else you want me to handle, your highness? "

"Make sure to hire people from the slums again for this expansion," Alexei said heavily. "You know I visited the slums with my guards before leaving for my tour. I truly want their lives to improve, and I believe we can help by giving some of them steady employment in our businesses. Speaking of which, how are the people you hired before? I hope they're doing well."

Alexei had no intention of allowing his business to be infiltrated by workers with socialist leanings. If possible, he would hire his own people who had no other loyalties than his own organization. Of course, he had to be smart when doing this. Sooner or later, someone might connect that he had some connection with the power in the slums. For now, he had the perfect excuse, playing the benevolent young man determined to help the downtrodden he had encountered.

Pavel straightened and nodded seriously. "You are truly benevolent to help those suffering people, Your Highness. And rest assured, they're doing very well. Despite lacking formal qualifications, many of them are surprisingly proficient in reading, writing, and arithmetic. I hadn't realized so many people in the slums were literate. When I asked, they told me there's a school that teaches them in exchange for only a bit of work. We can certainly hire from their group again this time, Your Highness."

Alexei smiled. "That's good. Oh, I just remembered. What do you think about this?" He picked up the folder from the side and handed it to Pavel.

Pavel received it. He scanned through the document carefully and after almost five minutes. He closed the folder. "I didn't think Baron Kurakin would directly get you involved, your highness."
After placing the folder on the desk, he continued, "Baron Kurakin has been visiting the company frequently these past months, trying to secure the role of our distributor in the United States. His family usually deals in agricultural trade, but from what I've heard, they've been struggling recently. That's why I've avoided committing to anything and kept telling him I needed to wait for your return before making a decision. It seems he already planned to approach you directly as well. It isn't exactly a secret that I must consult you before finalizing any major decisions about the company, Your Highness."

"He presented a solid business proposal, but I still believe we shouldn't go through with it. It's better to wait for a more reliable business partner. If we hold out a little longer, I'm confident we'll find someone more suitable."

Alexei, however, saw things differently. In his experience, desperate people often worked twice as hard simply to survive, and sometimes, that made them the most reliable partners of all. He only had one condition before moving forward.

"I think otherwise though. Desperate people sometimes do two times the work than others just to survive. Don't you think, Pavel? We will only lose time if he can't deliver. But I do have requirements for him before we give them the contract. Consider this as a test for him"

Pavel didn't think the tsarevich would not follow his advice. Still, his service was to heed his tsarevich's command and he'll do just that. He nodded and prepared his notes. "As you wish, your highness. What are your requirements?"

"I want a complete list of every novel published in the United States, both before and after this message is sent," Alexei said. "I want no trouble in the future regarding plagiarism or copyright infringement. Do the same with your contacts in Europe. And one more thing, I want a list of every major business operating in the United States, regardless of industry. Be it energy, finance and manufacturing. I want everything. If Baron Kurakin can provide that, then you may give him the contract."

Alexei wasn't entirely certain about the release dates of some well-known novels from his first life that he could still remember. It was safer to check the market before publishing anything he wasn't sure about. As for the list of companies. He wanted to be prepared when he had the right financial capabilities to invest.

Pavel couldn't help but ask after jotting down the last of his notes. "Do you intend to invest in the United States financial market, Your Highness?"

Alexei nodded seriously. "Yes. But not now. As you can see. I still don't have any capital to invest."

"I understand. Then I'll make sure the publishing house becomes profitable after the expansion, Your Highness."

"Thank you, Pavel." Alexei offered a small smile.

They continued discussing the expansion plans for a while longer, reviewing each detail carefully before Pavel finally excused himself.


Author's note: Short chapter so I can post weekly if possible. I hope this works.

 

[ImperatorXCV]

August 1906

When Pavel left, the room settled into a quiet stillness, broken only by the soft breathing of the sleeping pups in the corner, sounds Alexei could hear clearly despite how faint they were. He leaned back in his chair, propped his feet up on the desk, and willed his hearing to slightly reduce his surrounding noises. His body still felt weak from the extraction of his blood essence, and at this point, every moment of rest mattered if he wanted to recover his strength.

Alexei woke up from his sleep when he heard footsteps walking towards him. He instinctively put his senses in overdrive, slightly opened his eyes and seeing that it was only Sednev, he relaxed.

"What is it?" Alexei asked groggily as he propped himself up and set his feet down on the ground.

"Are you all right, Your Highness? I've been calling your name from the doorway, but you didn't wake up. I thought something might have happened to you." Sednev looked at his tsarevich worriedly.

"I'm okay. Don't worry. It seems the months of travelling really took a toll on my body." Alexei stretched and flexed his body, showing that he was truly alright.

Sednev sighed in relief. "It's time for dinner, your highness."

It was then that Alexei heard his stomach grumble. He subconsciously touched it. "Did you hear that?"

Sednev nodded. "I'll have your dinner ready right away." Sednev bowed and left.

Alexei chuckled and cracked his neck.

That was a good sleep.

Alexei closed his eyes and checked his body condition. He could feel his body healing itself. Not on top of the condition yet, but it was enough to walk, take a stroll around the city and check on his little minions.

Sednev came back with Anya and the maids in tow. Together, they prepared his dinner and night bath. When they were done, only Sednev and Anya remained. Alexei devoured the foods that were served unhurriedly and asked for a refill afterwards. Sednev had to get another batch and when it was delivered. Alexei also finished the food just as calmly.

Sednev and Anya remained unfazed but exchanged glances. They were already used to seeing their tsarevich devour his food as if his stomach was a bottomless pit. But tonight was quite unusual as it was the biggest appetite their tsarevich had devoured since they served him. Their tsarevich even stood up almost immediately after he finished his food and walked around the room a couple of times before heading to the bathroom. They cleaned the table while wondering what other record their tsarevich would break next time.
Alexei stepped out of the bathroom feeling refreshed. The food he had just eaten seemed to be digesting faster than usual. He suspected he might need another meal later, after returning from his little escapade.

He changed into comfortable clothes and went to check on the pups. They were still sleeping and recovering, but at least the trembling had stopped, a good sign in his opinion. Still, he hoped they would heal and recover quickly. The three months his father had granted him would pass in the blink of an eye, and he wanted the pups ready and trained by then.

When the night settled deep and quiet, Alexei slipped out through his room's window, scanned his surroundings, and crossed the lawn separating the palace from its outer walls. He waited until the roaming guards passed him by with their backs turned, then climbed the wall with practiced ease. Once outside, he checked the area again to ensure no one was nearby before strolling off at a casual, unhurried pace. As if he was just another city folks heading for work or wandering about.

The stroll through the city was uneventful, to say the least. A stark contrast when he visited the city before his tour. There were still the occasional scuffles, but they were nothing more than drunkards doing what drunkards do or thieves getting caught and receiving the betting of their lifetime. He knew other cities were still under martial law because of the unrest and chaos but at least the capital of the empire was mildly and fragilely peaceful.

Despite the lack of large protests and chaos in the city, however. Alexei knew that it was just a fragile peace that could be broken anytime if his father's government missteps again. The socialist and other groups would never truly stop their campaign unless they were rooted from the ground up. Unattainable for a short time but could be attainable in the future.

As he arrived at the slums, the territory his little minions guarded with their lives, Alexei almost couldn't recognize it. Gone were the muddy pathways, the collapsing shacks, and the suffocating stench that used to linger no matter the season. The place had once been a chaotic sprawl of desperation, a maze of rotting wood, broken roofs, and shadows where crime thrived. He remembered how even seasoned patrolmen refused to enter without backup. Now, it looked entirely different.

The roads had been cleared and patched down, there were no longer pot holes that could trip someone out if they're not looking. Small oil lamps hung from posts at regular intervals, giving the area a warm dusk glow instead of its usual pitch-black gloom. Some of the old shacks had been repaired, reinforced, or rebuilt entirely while others were replaced with sturdy wooden homes that, while modest, looked safe and deliberately planned.

As he got deeper into the heart of the slums. He got called out by one of the gangman patrolling the area.
"Halt."

The leader of the group approached together with his lackeys. He scrutinized Alexei at first before saying, "Who are you, and what are you doing here? We don't recommend wearing a cloak here. Let us see your face."

Alexei looked up. He had been so caught up with the changes in his territory that he'd forgotten to hide himself to avoid misunderstandings like this. Still, he just sighed and explained, "I'm friends with your gang leader, Nikolai. You can escort me to him if you want."

The gangman, however, didn't listen and got angry instead. "How dare you lie to us. There have been many people recently who impersonated our leader and his brothers by wearing a mask. Remove your mask this instant and show us your face. If not…" The gangman started cracking his knuckles and got into a fighting stance, his lackeys following suit.

Alexei chuckled at their postures. It was the basic fighting stance he'd had Nikolai teach his gang members. Still, judging by the way these goons performed it, he was sure they'd been slacking during training.

"How dare you laugh at us!"

The gangman charged forward with his fist ready. But when he punched, he hit nothing but air, and a moment later, something struck the side of his rib cage.

"Ugh." He buckled instantly, dropping to his knees and vomiting the dinner he had just eaten.

Seeing their leader defeated in one move, the lackeys hesitated at first, but eventually decided to fight back. They knew they'd be reprimanded if they didn't help him. They rushed toward Alexei, but before they could reach him, someone shouted behind them.

"Stop!"

The lackeys couldn't stop their momentum and stumbled forward. A few even managed to reach Alexei, only to strike nothing but air just like their leader. Fortunately for them, they didn't get their rib caged punch or something.

They eventually gathered themselves and looked behind them. They recognized the voice that had shouted, one they heard every time they trained. The man they secretly called "the demon," thanks to the harsh drills and punishments he had put them through. When they identified him by his posture and the mask he wore, they shuddered.

One of them pointed accusingly at Alexei and blurted out, "It's him, sir! He was checking out the area and pretending to be one of your brothers. He even hit our leader, look!" He gestured toward their leader, who was still hunched over, vomiting the last bits of his dinner.

Oskar was the one patrolling the territory tonight, handling anything the regular gang members couldn't. They usually patrolled in pairs, but Stepan, his partner, had been called away to spy on several members of the Soviets. They were monitoring so many of them now that, sooner or later, they'd run out of manpower to do so. They would need to recruit more members into their inner circle if things continued like this. He reminded himself to report the issue to his master, though he was certain the others and Anna had already noticed the problem and would bring it up once their master returned.

He had just been about to check another alley when he heard a commotion. He immediately rushed toward the noise. By the time he arrived, he saw the hooligans he himself had trained charging at someone he recognized instantly. He shouted for them to stop, but it was too late. Most managed to halt, but a few still reached his master.

He breathed a sigh of relief when he saw that his master had gone easy on them. They weren't the best fighters he'd trained, but they had been his trainees once, and he couldn't help but feel some attachment to them.

He was about to greet his master and reprimand the fools who dared to pick a fight with the devil when one of them pointed at Alexei and said something so reckless it could've sent the man straight to his grave.

He sneaked a glance at his master, who just stood there and looked at him. He couldn't see his master's face but he could still see the eyes and from what he could glean from it was amusement? He was not sure. Still, he ignored the fool who spouted nonsense and greeted his master.

"Welcome master. I'm glad you're back." He inclined his head downward slightly. His master didn't like it when they bowed but they just couldn't help it. The man was just an enigma that they couldn't help but respect. They eventually settled for just a nod or bow their head a little when greeting.

The hooligans couldn't help but give Alexei a once-over. If the man they had been about to fight was the demon's master… didn't that mean they'd nearly picked a fight with a greater demon? The thought sent a collective shiver through them all.
Alexei ignored the hooligans' reactions and nodded at Oskar. "Don't blame them. They're just doing their job."

Oskar let out a small breath of relief. "Thank you, master. I'll inform the men about your mask and clothes so that they can recognize you next time."

Alexei shook his head. "Don't. Just leave it as it is. I'll handle myself in the future. Come with me." With that, he turned and walked away. Ignoring the scuffle he had just caused.

"Understood, master," Oskar replied. Then he faced the frozen hooligans. "Continue with the patrol tonight. If I catch any of you slacking even a little, hmmp…"

They straightened immediately and shouted in unison, "Yes, sir!"

Oskar nodded sharply. "Then what are you waiting for? Scram!"

The hooligans scrambled, dragging their leader to his feet before running off as fast as they could. Only then did Oskar follow after his master.

"Is it true?" Alexei asked the moment he noticed Oskar catching up to him.

"What is, master?" Oskar replied.

"That there were people impersonating us with their masks on?"

"Ah, that." Oskar nodded. "There were a few we caught snooping around our territory wearing masks. Some even claimed to be one of us, but we dealt with them. There aren't many of us to begin with, and we know each member from head to toe. Still, I suppose it'll become a real problem once we expand in the future, master."

Anna had ordered them to patrol in pairs afterward, and they'd even created a few crude hand signs to identify each other while masked. It wasn't elegant and certainly not a long–term solution, but they had decided to wait for their master's guidance.

"Hmmm…" Alexei frowned, deep in thought. He hadn't considered this issue before, and he needed a proper solution soon or infiltrators would inevitably slip through.

He was thinking so hard that he didn't even notice they had already arrived at their destination.

They arrived in front of the iron gate. It looked aged with rust and grime, even the brick walls flanking it appeared old and weathered but Alexei knew the effect was intentional, they were actually newly built yet purposely disguised, meant to blend in with the surrounding slum houses. He had no idea how they managed that, but they had certainly overdone the camouflage. Whether it would actually fool anyone, he wasn't sure, all he could do was hope for the better.

After Oskar verified their identities, they stepped through the gate and were greeted by a small courtyard filled with flowers. It seemed Anna still had enough energy and ladylike flair to decorate their base according to her tastes. They crossed the courtyard and approached the main house. Its facade also looked worn and aged, but just like the gate and the walls. The building had been recently renovated and carefully styled on the inside and at the back.

Behind the main house, they had added three more similar structures built like a dormitory, all arranged around a wide central space large enough for training and exercises. Alexei didn't bother inspecting them yet and headed straight for Anna's office.

He found Anna hunched over her desk, scribbling something down. She looked exhausted, dark eye bags clearly visible from where he stood. As their organization expanded, so did the administrative workload. He had insisted from the beginning that they keep records of every transaction made within the organization. That way, they could track their progress more clearly and keep their operations organized. It was an investment for the future, something that would benefit them in the long run if they ever aimed to grow beyond this city.
Alexei glanced at Oskar behind him and whispered, "Call everyone who's available. Don't disturb those who have missions tonight. We're having a short meeting later."

"Yes, Master." Oskar nodded, shot a quick look at Anna, and left.

Once Alexei confirmed Oskar was gone, he knocked lightly on the already open door and greeted her. "Hello Anna. Busy?"

Anna lifted her head slowly. The moment she saw Alexei, she froze for a heartbeat before smiling. "You're back?" She made to stand, but Alexei's small gesture stopped her.

"Don't bother. I'm sitting down anyway." He moved to her desk and took the chair opposite her. His gaze drifted over the mountain of papers piled on her workspace, and his brows pulled together.

"What's all this?"

Anna followed his gaze and couldn't help but chuckle. "These are the names of the Jackals' members and their family members. We've grown quite a bit, you know. The city doesn't have enough jobs to keep up with the number of people looking for work, so some have no choice but to join us. We're pretty generous with wages too, which, if you ask me, is still an unnecessary expense at this stage."

"If we want to keep our people away from those socialists and the revolutionary ideas spreading through the city, then this is necessary. We're feeding them and their families, so they'd better not even think about joining that group and stirring up trouble in our peaceful business. Or else."

Alexei closed his eyes for a moment, reining in his emotions before opening them again and adding quietly. "I'm sorry."

She shook her head. "Don't be. I understand. I saw the trouble those people caused during the chaos in the city. I don't want them stirring up problems for our business either. Speaking of which, some of them actually tried to recruit our members. A few even agreed to join, so we sent them and their families away. It was chaotic at first, but we handled it. We made it very clear that we don't employ anyone with socialist or revolutionary leanings. Business is business, after all. We don't need the authorities breathing down our necks right now. Right?"

Alexei chuckled, clearly amused. "Business is business? And where did you pick that up?"

"From you, of course. You said it during one of our meetings, I just can't remember which." Anna let out a small laugh at her own words.

He nodded, but Anna's smile faded, replaced by a worried frown.

"We also have a problem you might be able to solve. Some people have started copying your minions' masks and pretending to be part of our group. We can identify them easily for now, we all know each other well, and there are only about thirty of us. But it's going to turn into a real issue once the Jackals and the people in the slums start believing those fakes are actually us. They could order them to do something that might harm us or, worse, damage our reputation."

She sighed. "I had the minions use hand signs and patrol in pairs, but that's not going to work long-term if we plan to expand our numbers."

Alexei frowned deeply. "I know. I heard about it on the way here. I just haven't come up with a solution yet. I told Oskar to call in the others who aren't busy. Still have the energy for a meeting?"

Anna glanced at the pile of documents on her desk before reluctantly nodding. "Alright. Let me just finish this one."

"Why are you doing all of this anyway? Aren't these documents supposed to stay with the Jackals?" Alexei asked.

"These are just copies. I have them send updated versions here every week so we don't have to go to their office whenever we need something. Most of our money goes into their wages. I don't want any corruption happening right under my nose," Anna replied, her tone serious. She trusted Nikolai, but she didn't trust the people under him who handled the money distribution and the records.

She intended to keep a close eye on them and would deal a heavy punishment to those she found out that was stealing from them.

Alexei couldn't help lifting an eyebrow at her. It seemed she'd become quite a miser in his absence, but he decided it wasn't a bad thing. They are still not at the point yet where they could spend their money lavishly. Alexei asked about how their businesses were going and Anna answered everything enthusiastically.
They now had about five gambling dens and three pleasure houses scattered throughout the slums. The number of people eager to take over these businesses skyrocketed the moment they announced that they wouldn't personally manage them and would instead collect protection fees and thirty percent of the monthly profits. Because of that, they had to screen out most applicants and only approved those they believed could actually run the establishments well, and thankfully, those they chose truly did.

Anna established a strict set of rules the operators had to follow. Some people backed out immediately, unable to understand how they could make money while sticking to the guidelines. Others were hesitant at first but eventually agreed. Most of the ones who agreed to the rules had previously worked under the old owner of the dens and pleasure houses. They already knew how profitable the businesses were, and even if the rules would cut into most of their earnings, they understood there was still plenty to be made. They also knew that if they managed these places successfully, they might finally have a real chance to rise in life.

Before the businesses opened, Alexei ordered the establishments to be renovated and thoroughly cleaned. He knew how much the ambiance and cleanliness could affect their success. Of course, he had the newly appointed owners take a loan from the Jackals to cover the expenses, he wasn't a saint who would hand out free money for renovations. However, Alexei did give them free advice on how to run the businesses well, including new card games and other ideas he believed would attract more gamblers to their establishments.

As for the pleasure houses, even though they operated under strict guidelines and were closely monitored by Anna, many of the women still chose to sell their bodies for money. Especially now, with their salaries nearly doubled and full ownership of any tips their patrons gave them. Anna had been quite disappointed at first, she thought her rules and guidelines would be enough to stop it, but they weren't, it seemed it only made the women more eager for the job. She eventually managed to accept it and move on.

There were still a few unusual businesses that Alexei had the people on the slums take on, like cleaning services, delivery services, protection services, and even a newly established agency where job seekers could submit their résumés, and the agency would find work for them in exchange for a small percentage of their salary. Their very first partner happened to be Alexei's own publishing house. Anna didn't know that he owned that particular publishing house, but Alexei knew he would have to come clean eventually. Just… not yet. Naturally, all of these businesses had to pay protection fees and thirty percent of the profits to the Jackals.
Overall, the businesses were on the right track. Profits had been steadily rising every month now that the chaos in the city had died down. Some owners had even grown bold enough to request permission to expand into areas outside their current influence. Anna had to shut down those dreams quickly. But Alexei already had plans for expansion, now that they'd consolidated their strength. He knew growth was the only way forward, he just hadn't figured out how to make it happen yet.

Their conversation was cut short when someone knocked on the door and Oskar stepped inside. "Master, everyone available is in the meeting room now."

Alexei nodded to Oskar, then glanced at Anna. "Shall we?"

Together, they left the room.

 

[ImperatorXCV]

August 1906

Alexei sat down at the head chair of the table while Anna sat down to his left and Nikolai, who rushed from the Jackal's base as soon as he heard that their master was back, sat to his right. He observed the core members of his fledgling organization and couldn't help but feel proud of how far they had come. They had once been children scavenging the streets and the dumps just to survive. Now, they looked nothing like those starving kids. They sat straighter at their chair and looked like professionals who he could depend on in times of trouble. He cleared his throat and everyone in the meeting room perked up.

"I'm sorry for the short notice," Alexei began. "But I want to hear all your progress and the problems you encountered during my absence. Anna, you start."

Anna nodded. She had already told Alexei most of her report earlier, but for formality's sake, she needed to present it to everyone.
"I'll start with the profits we've gained over the past few months. The establishments under our protection, along with the businesses we encouraged our people to join, have all submitted their financial reports for the previous month. I'm proud to say the profits are steadily growing," Anna said.

The minions couldn't help but smile at that. They already knew the businesses in their territory were thriving, but they had never heard the exact numbers. And when Anna reached that part of the report, their smiles grew even wider. A few even let out quiet, happy chuckles before quickly clamping their mouths shut, afraid to interrupt her presentation.

Anna continued her report, breaking down which establishments submitted the highest profits and which ones lagged behind. She explained the reasons behind these numbers and pointed out what could be improved to ensure the businesses under them continued to thrive. After that, she moved on to the renovations they had done to the roads and alleys in their territory, and how those improvements boosted business. Naturally, she also included the expenses for all of that.

When Anna presented the organization's overall expenses, the minions' smiles slowly faded. Their biggest expenditures were the renovations to their main base and the Jackals' monthly costs and salaries. Nikolai simply nodded. He already knew his gang consumed a lot of resources. Even without counting the salaries, the amount of food they eat everyday was enormous. Fortunately, the establishments under their protection were earning well, and the security the Jackals provided to the territory balanced out some of the costs.

"Overall," Anna concluded, "after subtracting expenses and taxes from the profits, we still have a pure profit of over twenty-three thousand rubles. Please note, this is the total profit from the start of the year up until last month."

Alexei nodded and turned his gaze to Nikolai, who immediately understood that it was his turn. He straightened and began. "The Jackals now have a total of three hundred sixty members. Half of them have already completed their training and are currently serving as patrols in our territory or as guards in the establishments. The rest are still in training. We also implemented the master's previous suggestion to divide work hours into three shifts a day. From what I've observed, it's working well. We've been able to maintain the safety of our area 24/7, and the men are staying in top condition. There are some problems as well, but we handled it immediately as soon as it started."

Nikolai continued his report, recounting everything that had happened within the gang and the progress of their training. He suggested intensifying their martial training further, not to the level of the minions, but enough to give them an edge in fights against rival gangs. They were already gathering information on the groups bordering their territory, and he knew conflicts would eventually break out once the city police and military loosened their grip. He wanted to make use of the remaining time before that happened.

"That's all I have to report, master," he finished.

"Thank you Nikolai, you've done well." Alexei praised Nikolai. He then looked at the others in the room who looked back at him with confidence and he nodded at that. He would've reprimanded them after the meeting if they so looked away or looked down from his gaze. He trained them himself and he imparted confidence as one of their core values, not too much, but enough to face challenges head on. His gaze settled on Ivan, Anna's brother, who knew it was his turn to report.

Ivan opened the documents in front of him. He was the one handling all the reports from the spying across the city. His position wasn't official yet. But he knew as long as he did a good job, the position would be his.

"From what we've gathered so far, Master," Ivan began, "the St. Petersburg Soviets dissolved earlier this year, but we still maintain surveillance on the people and organizations who were involved with them, especially the Bolsheviks, Mensheviks, and Socialist Revolutionaries. All of these groups are keeping a low profile since the dissolution, but they still meet privately. We know where those meetings happen, but we can't infiltrate them or hear what's being discussed. So, for now, we're only tracking the individuals we deem important enough."

He hesitated for a moment before adding, "We can't cover everyone on the list because we don't have enough manpower. I think it's time to expand the minions, Master." Ivan looked at Alexei. They didn't understand why they had to investigate these groups but they trusted their master, so they just did what they were asked to do. When Alexei nodded, he continued.

"We've also finished investigating the gangs to our east. So far, we've seen nothing in their behavior that suggests they're backed by larger groups. I believe we can expand in that direction. As for the west, we're still looking into their members, but we've heard they usually deal in opium. We don't have solid evidence yet, but we suspect they're connected to the largest gang in the city, the ones who control the docks. No contraband or illegal goods enter the city without passing through those shipping docks."

Ivan also reported the infiltration attempts they had recently uncovered within their territory. They had apprehended most of the infiltrators, though a few managed to escape. Those they captured were questioned thoroughly, and from their statements, the group turned out to be members of the Ratcatchers, a gang that controlled the eastern districts of the city. The Ratcatchers were known for extortion, theft, fraud, and trafficking. They operated several gambling dens as well, though these weren't popular due to the gang's notorious reputation.

They also questioned the infiltrators about the masks they were wearing and managed to learn where the idea came from. According to them, they received both the idea and inside information from one of the Jackals, someone who eagerly sold them details for a price. The Jackals who sold them the information explained that the core members of the Jackals usually wore masks, so they tried to use the gang's core member's own signature look to slip into their territory unnoticed.

Nikolai frowned at this, and the rest of the room mirrored his expression. He hadn't expected that someone from his own gang would still sell inside information so eagerly, especially despite the stable salary they were given. They had done everything they could to give these people better lives, yet here they were. He couldn't help but grit his teeth.

Alexei, however, knew that no matter what they provided, there would always be treacherous scum willing to betray others for money. He had already anticipated something like this eventually happening. He couldn't control people's emotions or thoughts, so there was little he could do to prevent it entirely. The only thing they could do was how to address the problem when it arose. After a moment of thought, he asked.

"And the Jackal who sold this information. Did you get him?"

Ivan nodded. "Yes. We're observing him for now, and I've already assigned someone to watch him so he can't slip away if he notices anything. What do you want to do, master?"

"No need to observe him further. Punish him in front of everyone to set an example. Tell everyone exactly what he did. You can dispose of him afterward. Can you handle that last part, Nikolai?" Alexei asked, turning to Nikolai.

He had taught them everything except the killing, and this was one of those moments to give them an experience in that. Sooner or later, they would have to dirty their own hands to protect what they had built. The weak had no place in this place.

Nikolai didn't hesitate for even a second. He nodded the moment he heard the question. "Yes, master." It was his responsibility to begin with, and he needed to be the one to carry out the punishment if only to vent the anger simmering inside him.

"Good."

Alexei then turned back to Ivan. "You mentioned we're short on manpower. You can coordinate with Nikolai and Oskar about recruiting from the Jackals. I'm sure there are some who've performed exceptionally well. You just need to make sure they're loyal. It would be best if they have family here in the slums we're protecting. That way, they wouldn't even think of betraying us, not unless they want their family to suffer. Do you understand?"

Ivan answered, "Yes, master."

"Also, Oskar," Alexei continued, shifting his gaze to the man who had remained quiet all this time. "I know you're already in charge of training the Jackals, but I want to give you another job. Are you willing to take it?"

"Just tell me what it is, master, and it'll be done," Oskar replied eagerly. He couldn't help but feel proud, being entrusted with more responsibility meant that their master truly had confidence in him.

"In the military, there's a branch called the military police. They handle investigations, internal disputes, and traitors within their ranks. I want you to do something similar among the Jackals. Your main task is to ensure there are no traitors in the gang and to settle any disputes that arise. I'll explain everything in detail in the coming days when I have the time. For now, start by recruiting only those you trust, and preferably those with family here in the slums. Coordinate with Nikolai for that. I trust you can handle it well?"

Alexei looked at Oskar seriously. It was the best solution he could think of to address the issue of traitors. He knew it wouldn't eliminate the problem entirely, but he hoped it would at least lessen it.

Oskar nodded solemnly. "You can trust me on that, master." It was a heavy task. But he would give everything he had to achieve what was expected of the new group he would form. Even now, he was already considering who he would recruit amongst the jackals.

Alexei tapped his fingers lightly on the table, thinking about how to deal with outsiders copying their masks to infiltrate their territory. After a moment of fruitless pondering, he sighed. "As for the mask problem, just keep doing what you've been doing. The hand signs and moving in pairs are decent solutions for now. We'll revisit the issue once we come up with better alternatives."

He then turned to Ivan. "Since you've already proven yourself capable, you'll be in charge of all intelligence gathering from now on. Your twin Sergey will be your second-in-command. Can you handle this responsibility? You need to make sure that what you guys gathered is accurate or else we will suffer the consequences of having false information."

Ivan's eyes widened briefly before settling into a determined expression. "Thank you for your trust, master. I won't let you down."

"Make sure that you don't," Alexei replied. "Continue the surveillance on the groups who joined the soviets before the dissolution. For now, just gather names and current locations, no need to figure out their plans yet. We'll expand that operation later. As for the gangs around us, I want accurate numbers. We'll expand eastward first, so focus there. The ones to the west seem to have connections in the government since they control the shipping docks. I'll handle that personally."

His minions were still far from the level of the Okhrana when it came to intelligence gathering and infiltration. If he wanted the city secured before the war began, he might have to step into politics sooner than he anticipated.

Ivan took down every word, and once Alexei finished, he nodded firmly. "Understood, master. I'll do everything I can to gather all the information you need."

Alexei nodded, then addressed everyone in the room. "If you have any questions later or need something, go to Anna. Make sure you report everything to her. She has the highest authority in this group when I'm not around. Do you understand?"

"Yes, master," they replied in unison. They knew exactly how much he trusted Anna, so none of them had any objections. She was the one who recruited most of them to begin with, and they all knew how capable she was.

Anna, meanwhile, couldn't help but smile. She was genuinely happy to be trusted by both her master and her people. But the moment she thought about the mountain of responsibility that came with that trust, her smile slowly faded. She shot Alexei a glance, quietly grumbling to herself. He made her feel important, sure, but at the end of the day, he was mostly giving her even more work.

Still, she was proud. Especially now that her brothers had real positions in the group. Sometimes she couldn't believe how far they'd all come, they were just once orphans scavenging in the dumps and streets, now running an organized group with a promising, if shadowy, future. Her thoughts drifted to her youngest brother, who was currently attending a respectable school in the city. She desperately hoped that Petrov would never have to join their line of work, and that he would be able to build a decent, respectable life for himself when he graduated.

They continued discussing everything that had happened during his absence, the minor problems they encountered and the rumors circulating around the city. When the conversation reached the part about a mystic and faith healer roaming the city performing supposed miracles, Alexei paused. He immediately recognized how dangerous this could become if not addressed properly.

When people grow desperate, especially the peasants and the poorly educated, they often cling to anything sacred or divine for protection, answers, or a sense of hope. A charismatic "prophet" could easily spark trouble.

Alexei instructed Ivan to investigate this so-called holy man. If the prophet could be controlled, that would be ideal. But if not, then he needed to be removed quickly, before he had the chance to gather followers and become a real threat.

The meeting eventually concluded, and Alexei left the base after giving Anna a few final instructions. This time, he made sure to avoid being seen, especially by the patrolling Jackals. He didn't want a repeat of the earlier misunderstanding.

He moved across the rooftops of the tightly packed slum houses, careful not to make a sound that might disturb the families inside. Once he reached the edge of the district, he leapt down from one of the roofs and landed silently on the ground. From there, he strolled leisurely toward the city center, planning to make another round of quiet sightseeing.

As he walked, he couldn't help thinking about the possibility of entering a government office under the pretext of gaining experience, far sooner than he ever wanted to. He had been avoiding the idea for as long as he could, he despised the backstabbing and political games that came with it. He preferred dealing with problems directly, cutting them off at the root rather than playing along with their schemes. If he wasn't careful, he might accidentally kill someone and forget he wasn't on the streets anymore.

Still, his organization simply didn't have the resources to sweep through the city. He knew some of the gangs and mafia groups had connections, otherwise, how could they operate so freely without being exposed or eliminated? Those same connections could be within his reach if he joined his father's government… Albeit at the cost of his peaceful life away in court.

Alexei sighed as he watched the people trudging through the streets of St. Petersburg. Even in the dead of night, workers were still on the move, some heading to their shifts, others dragging themselves home. Time didn't seem to matter to these people as long as it meant food on the table.

His attention drifted to a dark corner where a group of hoodlums had cornered a pitiful man. They were robbing him out of his belongings while he sobbed and begged them not to take the food he had painstakingly saved for his family. Alexei hesitated for a moment before deciding to intervene. He wasn't the benevolent man some imagined him to be, but he could offer help from time to time and if it didn't bother him too much.

He approached silently. The hoodlums only noticed him when he was already close.

"What do you want? Mind your own business, boy, unless you want to end up like this one," the largest of the group growled.

Alexei didn't bother replying. He drove his fist straight into the man's face, making sure it hit the node that connects directly to the brain, knocking him out cold. The others froze at the sight of their boss being taken down with a single punch by a boy who had appeared out of nowhere. When one of them bolted, the rest took it as a cue and scattered, leaving their unconscious leader on the street.

Alexei didn't even look at the pitiful man. He simply turned and walked away as silently as he had arrived.

The man snapped out of his shock and shouted after him, "Thank you, young man! Thank you!"

Alexei lifted a hand in acknowledgment but didn't look back.

 

[ImperatorXCV]

September 15, 1906

Alexei had been thinking for a while about how to insert himself into his father's government at such a young age. He'd read plenty of novels in his first life where protagonists or reincarnators did it effortlessly, offering advice, swaying political affairs, and having their father or King nod along almost immediately. If he could pull off something similar, his life would be much easier, and he wouldn't have to worry as much about the war and the revolutions that were destined to come. Alas it was not as easy as it seemed to be. People had their own minds and goals, they would not appreciate it if you so much encroached on their power. Instead of seeing your advice and help in a positive view, they would see it as bubbling nonsense especially that he had a different view of how the world works. He came from the twenty-first century after all, who reincarnated in the cultivation world, died, and ended up in the twentieth century. Nicholas II might be a good father but Alexei didn't want to risk it, especially that his father held onto autocracy as if his life depended on it. After weighing the pros and cons, he settled on the most viable approach available to him right now.

He had arranged a meeting with all his tutors for today. He woke up early to practice his speech, check on the pups and to cultivate. The pups had survived the second assimilation of his blood essence and were now growing stronger by the day, though they still slept most of the time. He couldn't train them yet, but he felt confident it would be easy once he formed a connection and bonded with them properly.

As the sun rose over the horizon, Alexei heard a knock on his door. He was seated in a lotus position, cultivating. He'd been cultivating whenever he could during his spare moments, power was the only true guarantee he had in this world, and he wouldn't neglect it for anything. Unfortunately, he still couldn't replace sleep with cultivation, so he had to make do whenever he was awake or had the time. The middle stages of the first realm of body cultivation were still years away for him.

He rose from his position just as Sednev entered.

"Good morning, Your Highness. You have a meeting scheduled with your tutors one hour from now. We need to get you ready."

Alexei nodded silently and went to wash up. Sednev stepped aside to let Anya in. She checked on the pups first, and seeing they were still asleep, she continued with her usual tasks, opening the curtains and tidying the tsarevich's bed.

Once Alexei finished washing up and dressing, he sat down to eat the breakfast already prepared for him. By the time he cleared the last of the food on the table, only ten minutes remained before the meeting.

Not wanting to be late, he made his way toward the study, together with Sednev and Nagorny where the meeting would be held. As he stepped inside, he was surprised that every one of his tutors was already present, seated and waiting for him. He quickly composed himself and said "Good morning everyone." As he took his seat.

Alexei didn't immediately state the reason he had called the meeting. They are quite tense at the moment, and he could feel it. Instead, he eased them into casual conversation, asking how each of them had been, how their work was progressing, and whether they were keeping themselves in good health.

They were quite baffled that their tsarevich had suddenly taken such a personal interest in their well being. They were quite used to him being focused, direct to the point and disliked unnecessary activities to their lessons. Nevertheless, they answered every question truthfully and as the conversation went on, their tense shoulders relaxed considerably.

—--

Pyotr Vasilievich Petrov had been on cloud nine these past few months. He was the one teaching the tsarevich Russian and literature so he got most of the praises from nobles, aristocrats and bureaucrats alike.

The tsarevich's sudden and baffling talent for literature really caught him off guard. Because the truth is, he barely did anything after all these years. Most of his lessons with the tsarevich consisted of him reading aloud while the boy just sat there listening. He didn't even need to teach a lesson a second time and directly proceeded to another topic after he was finished. It was really just about him doing the talking while the tsarevich just listens.

He hadn't even realized the boy possessed such talent. How he regretted missing it. He had assumed the tsarevich was like most young nobles, taking lessons half-heartedly and going through the motions. Oh, how wrong he had been with his judgement.

But who knows, all that talking, all that boring lessons must've really helped the tsarevich with his writings. Thus, credit where the credit is due.

Ever since the children's books and novels were published under the tsarevich's pen name, Pyotr had been flooded with congratulations. The high society had been approaching him nonstop, asking if he could tutor their own children in Russian and literature. He'd had to come up with excuse after excuse just to decline their offers. He was teaching all the Imperial children already so he doesn't have the time to focus on the others.

Still, he accepted all their praises shamelessly. He was the teacher after all, and he was the one who had suffered the most during those lessons. The dullness, the monotony, and the sheer vapidity of each session had finally paid off.

When the tsarevich called for a meeting, Pyotr initially assumed it was meant for him alone. But the moment he stepped into the study, he found the mathematics tutor, the French tutor, and the rest of the tsarevich's instructors already gathered. The tension in the room was thick enough for his taste, and when Pyotr entered, it somehow tightened even further.

There was always a hint of politics and rivalry among them. None of them were strangers to competition, in fact, they leaned into it whenever the opportunity presented itself. Their hostile stares greeted him the moment he walked in, but Pyotr merely lifted his chin and took his seat as if nothing was amiss.
When the tsarevich finally arrived, however, the atmosphere shifted again. To their collective surprise, the tsarevich was unusually chatty, almost warm, and genuinely concerned about their health and well-being. But they hadn't survived years of court life without recognizing the signs. Their tsarevich wanted something from them and they could feel it.

Still, they answered every question politely and waited for him to reveal the real purpose of this meeting.

It didn't take long. The tsarevich eventually straightened in his chair, and the soft murmur of conversation around the table died instantly. Alexei always had that effect on him, or on all of them, as Pyotr noticed the others fall silent at the exact same moment that he did.

And when the tsarevich finally began to speak, Pyotr leaned in, listening carefully.

"The reason I called you all here is because I need recommendation letters from each of you. I feel it's time for me to put everything I've learned into practice. Monsieur Gillard says I'm learning French faster than most and only need to use it more in conversation. Mr. Breshkovsky often tells me mathematics is something I'll encounter in daily life. It's supposed to be a secret but I think everyone of you has already heard that I'm writing. Correct?"

Everyone nodded, including Pyotr himself.

"Well, you guys didn't know this but it was because of Mr. Pyotr himself that got me to start writing. I didn't even know that I was good at it until I tried. So, what do you guys think? Don't worry, you only need to address your letters to my father and I'll do the rest. Any questions?"

As soon as the tsarevich finished, Pyotr straightened in his seat. His colleagues were already sneaking glances at him, clearly envious. Still, he kept his composure first and didn't let himself get swept up by the moment. He spoke first.

"I hope you do well in your learning experience, your highness. I'll write the recommendation letter right now."
An attendant stepped forward immediately, offering him the prepared paper and a fountain pen. As Pyotr began writing, the others rushed to express their own well-wishes and promises, none of them willing to be the last to speak up.

When the letters were completed and collected, the tsarevich thanked them all warmly and left the room.

Only then did Pyotr allow himself to relax. He arched a brow at his colleagues, half triumphant and half smug, as a few stepped over to congratulate him on a "job well done."

—--

Alexei had worn a bright, polite smile the entire time he was with his tutors, but the moment he stepped out of the room, it evaporated. This was only the first step in the plan he'd committed himself to, and he was already drained from the pleasantries and forced socializing. He rubbed his cheek, realizing it felt stiff from all the smiling.

This better be worth it, he muttered inwardly.

"Are you all right, Your Highness?" Sednev asked, noticing the frown and the way Alexei was still pressing at his cheek.

"I'm fine. Did you check my father's schedule for today? Is he available?" Alexei dropped his hand and asked.

"Yes. He should be in his office right now, as long as no emergency has come up," Sednev replied.

"Good. Let's go. I want to finish all of this today." Alexei said, already moving forward.

Sednev and Nagorny immediately fell into step behind him.

While walking towards his father's office. Alexei reviewed his prepared act on why he wanted to do this and that. Backed by the recommendation letters from his tutors. He felt confident enough that the approval was practically guaranteed. The only thing he had no confidence in was where he was going to be put under. There are many ministries in his father's government and he was not sure if his father would agree to his preferred department.

He put that thought aside as he saw the door to his father's office looming in the distance. The reasons and purpose were already prepared. He just needs to deliver it as smoothly as possible.

Sednev stepped forward to ask the guards if the tsar was inside, but before he could speak, the door swung open. The man who stepped out made Sednev bow slightly, and the others followed suit. Alexei simply nodded his head in acknowledgment.

"Good morning, Mr. Prime Minister," Alexei greeted.

This was the first time he saw the new prime minister up close. The prime minister still wore bandages and there was a subtle limp in his step. From what he heard, the new prime minister had just survived an assassination attempt on his life. Albeit at the cost of his daughter's life and now crippled son. He couldn't really comment on anything negative about this new prime minister as he just started on his new job. Instead, he quite admired the man's persistence on working despite what had happened to his family. If it had been him, he would've lost all reason to work and spend the rest of his life planning and executing revenge.

"Good morning to you too, Your Highness." Pyotr Stolypin bowed his head slightly in greeting.

The prime minister couldn't even muster a smile, and Alexei figured the man was still grieving.

He chose his words carefully before speaking. "I'm sorry for your loss, Mr. Prime Minister."

"Thank you, Your Highness," Pyotr replied, a pained smile tugging at his lips.

Alexei suspected he'd just reminded the man of those painful memories. So much for choosing the right words. He decided to end the conversation there.

"Then…" Alexei stepped aside, offering him passage.

The prime minister nodded and walked off.

Alexei watched him go until he disappeared, then exhaled. He needed to focus on his current task and push all distractions aside. He nodded to Sednev, who signaled the guard to announce him. All these protocols wasted far too much time for his taste. The guard returned shortly after and opened the door wide enough for them to enter.

Alexei took the documents in Sednev's hand and immediately stepped inside.

He hadn't even finished scanning the room when his father greeted him first.

"And what does my son want that he visits his father this early, hmm?" Nicholas said with a smile from behind his decorated desk.

"Would you believe me if I told you I missed you so much, Father?" Alexei replied, matching the smile as he walked straight to the desk and took the seat opposite him.

Nicholas chuckled. "I would believe many things, my boy. That, however, would be a stretch."

Alexei placed a hand over his heart in mock offense. "You wound me."

"You'll survive." Nicholas shrugged and leaned back slightly. He wondered what could have brought his son to his office this early. Judging from the papers Alexei carried, perhaps it was another story? He would've loved to read one of his son's new manuscripts, but Stolypin had already dumped enough work on his desk for the morning.

"Now then, what truly brings you here, son? Let me remind you that your father is very busy today. Just look at all these documents scattered on my desk." He sighed heavily.

"Don't worry, Father. This won't take too much of your time. Here." Alexei handed over the papers.

"Is this another one of your stories? Can I read it later?" Nicholas asked as he took the documents.

"Nope. Those are from my tutors. You should read them, Father." Alexei answered with a small, confident smile.

Nicholas raised an eyebrow and grumbled, "It feels like you're just giving me more work." Still, he opened the documents and began reading.

When he finished, he frowned. "What's this? These are all recommendation letters… for your hands-on learning?"

"That's what they said, Father. They think I'm too good for basic lessons now and that it's time I gain experience in the real world. So… what do you think?" Alexei shrugged as if he didn't care about it.

Nicholas studied his son quietly for a moment. He had always kept a close watch on Alexei's studies, and not just his studies. He paid attention to all of his son's extracurricular activities as well. He knew how skilled Alexei had become with rifles and revolvers, the strange daily exercises he insisted on doing, the reports from guards about the boy running laps around the palace, and how quickly he absorbed things in a single session, whether it was horseback riding or basic military drills.

All of this was telling of how brilliant Alexei is, far more than Nicholas had ever been at his age. And he couldn't help but feel proud about it. He often boasted about his son while out hunting with his friends, and the way their expressions subtly soured with envy never failed to improve his day.

But there was one thing his son lacked the most, and that is socializing. For all his abilities, Alexei struggled with people. Even though he had a few companions at court, it was nothing compared to the wide circle of friends Nicholas himself had in his youth. At times, it felt as though Alexei kept everyone at arm's length.

This recommendation from his tutors, however, this push toward practical experience, might be exactly what he needed. Exposure to real work could draw him out, help him build relationships, and prepare him for the future that awaited him.

Still, Nicholas couldn't decide this on his own. Not when it concerned their son. He would need his wife's consent before deciding. He himself was sixteen years old before his father pushed him towards duty. He wondered if his son could handle it. Maybe just observing the different ministries for now? Without actually doing any work? Yes, that could work. He just needs to convince his wife about it. He decided.

"So your tutors believe you're ready for practical experience…" he murmured, tapping the letters lightly against the desk. "And you believe that too?"

Alexei nodded innocently, "Yes, I'm quite bored with all the writing recently. I think I need a little space far from it for a while or else I might lose inspiration."

"You better not Alexei or your sisters will cry their eyes out because you won't have new stories for them anymore." Nicholas doubled down on his decision immediately. He can't let his son lose inspiration in writing. Especially when his son hadn't finished writing the chronicles of narnia. For him, that was the most outstanding book his son had written. Even though it was a children's fantasy literature, adults like him couldn't help but be drawn to the story. Especially his wife.

Alexei sighed. "I really hope so. I heard that some writers got their inspiration from working. Maybe I could do the same if given enough time?"

Nicholas slowly nodded. "That's true. That is true." Then he exhaled. "Well, your tutors do seem convinced. And I trust their judgment… mostly." A wry smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. "But before I give you any answer, your mother will want her say. So… we'll tell you our decision later."

"That's fair." Alexei barely managed to keep the frown from showing onto his face and managed to show only a polite nod.

"Then I won't bother you any longer, Father. I delivered what I came here to deliver, so I'll take my leave."

He stood up, smoothing the front of his clothes with ease. When he was about to turn around and left. His father stopped him.

"Wait, son. I heard you're planning to take out a loan for your expansion?"

"Yes. It's the only way to make more money in the future. I'm practically strapped right now." Alexei sighed, shaking his head. "I thought I could make millions with my writings, but it seems that won't happen anytime soon." This time, he wasn't acting, he was genuinely disappointed with the earnings he had earned.

Nicholas frowned at his son. "What are you talking about? We're rich. You don't have to do this for money."

"If I asked you to buy me two or three automobiles just like you did recently, would you do it without asking a single question?" Alexei smirked. Seeing his father casually purchase three automobiles had sparked an old ambition in him. He wanted to build his own brand someday. It had been a childhood dream in his first life and now he intended to fulfill it.

Who knows? Perhaps, someday, he could expand into military vehicles, trucks for logistics and maybe even tanks to storm the front line in the future wars. He didn't know how to build any of it himself, of course, but he knew he could find the people who did.

When he saw his father fall silent, unable to give a straight answer, Alexei chuckled. "See? The money I earned is for my own self indulgence father. I don't want to bother you about it every time I have something I like."

Nicholas speechlessly stared at his son. It was true that having a son so mature and capable at such a young age was something to be proud of. Yet at the same time, it was… unsettling. Alexei had a way of forming ideas that always caught him completely off guard. Just like now, building his own wealth purely for his personal indulgence? The thought almost made Nicholas laugh, yet he knew that his son might actually pull it off.

"You surprised me there, son." Nicholas rubbed his forehead and sighed. "I admire your desire to be financially independent, but let me remind you, you're still a child. When I was your age, I spent my days playing with my siblings and friends, not worrying about anything. I want you to experience that too. Because when the time comes, you'll regret everything you didn't do while you were still young. Look at my desk. I don't even know when I'll finish all of this."

Alexei glanced at the mountain of papers covering his father's desk, then nodded seriously. "Understood, Father."

Nicholas paused, thinking for a moment, then added, "About your plan to take out a loan for your business… you won't need to do that anymore. Do you know you've had an allotted allowance since the day you were born?"

Alexei blinked, stunned.

Nicholas continued, "You were allotted one hundred thousand rubles per year from birth. Adding it all together until now, you have a little over one million rubles, money you were meant to receive when you turn sixteen. I'll open the account for you now, so you can use it for your business. But I will be checking it regularly, and you may not withdraw anything from it without my consent. At least until you turn sixteen. Is that understood?"

Alexei broke into a wide smile, then walked around the desk and wrapped his arms around his father in a light, grateful hug. "Thank you, Father."

Nicholas returned the hug gently before letting go. "Remember, Alexei, this is a test. You promised me earlier that you'd turn the money I gave you before into millions. I'm still holding you to that promise."

"Of course, Father. You know how well my stories sell domestically. It won't be long before we expand overseas. By then, the millions I promised will be in the bag." Alexei laughed quietly. He had come only to deliver the recommendation letters and to talk his father into it. He hadn't expected an unexpected boon.

"That's good. Now go. I still have a mountain of documents to sign." Nicholas gave him a light pat on the back.

Alexei bowed his head. "Goodbye, Father. And don't forget the recommendation letters from the tutors. Please talk to Mother about it later."

"I know. Now go."

Alexei nodded once more and left. The door shut softly behind him.

Nicholas watched his son's figure disappear through the doorway, a mixture of pride and exasperation tugging at him.

"Too mature for his own good," he muttered under his breath, shaking his head with a helpless smile.

He straightened in his chair, picked up the nearest document, and forced his attention back to the affairs of the state.

—--

The moment Alexei reached his room. He plopped into one of his chairs and finally relaxed. His visit to his father was meant to deliver the recommendation letters from his tutors and plant the idea to his father's head. From there, he would slowly use every idea he could think of just to get to his desired outcome, the Okhrana. He couldn't appear desperate so he left after stating the reason for his visit.

He hadn't expected to gain something from it, however. Though the money would be closely monitored, the allowance was more than enough to fuel his business expansion without taking out a loan. That alone would help him in his money making endeavors. As he leaned back in his chair, Alexei allowed himself a small, satisfied smile.

 

[ImperatorXCV]

A week later

Nicholas returned to his office with heaviness in his steps. Meetings with his ministers always left him drained, especially now, when his recently appointed prime minister was pushing for reforms that did not sit well with him.

Although the prime minister was capable of suppressing peasant uprisings and highly effective in stabilizing the empire. His reforms were much less to be desired.

Just thinking about the meeting that had adjourned moments ago was enough to give him a headache. Different factions within his government had vehemently opposed the prime minister's plans, while the man himself remained stubbornly fixated on seeing his reforms succeed.

In the end, Nicholas had been forced to intervene personally, if only to prevent his ministers and advisers from tearing into one another.

He loosened his collar and sat down on the chair behind his desk when he noticed his aide, Boris, stood near the door, hands in front of him fidgeting while shifting his weight from one foot to the other. He had been with his aide from childhood till now so he knew what those small movements meant.

"Out with it." Nicholas said calmly, setting his gloves aside. "You clearly have something to say. What is it this time?"

Boris stiffened for a moment, then bowed his head slightly, "It has nothing to do with what was discussed in the meeting, Your majesty. It has something to do with the tsarevich."

Nicholas's eyes narrowed. "What about my son?"

Boris chose his words carefully. "I've heard that some of the grand dukes and your cousins, led by your uncle, Grand Duke Vladimir, were displeased after learning that the tsarevich is set to study under various ministries, and the Okhrana at such a young age. The grand duke himself even approached the Dowager Empress, hoping to persuade you to reconsider."

Silence settled over the room once Boris finished.

Nicholas's expression darkened, his fingers tightening against the edge of the desk. "So they think they have the right to decide what my son may or may not learn," he said coolly.

Boris said nothing. Afraid to escalate the rising anger he knew his Tsar was feeling at the moment.

"Leave them be," Nicholas said at last, his voice firm. "I will not have my uncles or cousins deciding Alexei's future for him. If I let them decide what happens to my family. I might as well abdicate and hand the empire to them on a silver platter.

He inhaled and exhaled sharply, trying to reign in his anger. "I'll have a talk with them. Is that all?"

"Yes, Your Majesty," Boris replied quietly.

Nicholas waved a hand dismissively. "You may leave. I want to be alone."

Boris released a breath he hadn't realized he was holding and bowed deeply. "As you wish, Your Majesty."

When the door closed, Nicholas rubbed his forehead and leaned back in his chair. His gaze drifted to the ornate patterns carved into the ceiling as his thoughts wandered. His uncles and cousins, bound to him by blood, yet increasingly eager to add to his burdens, pressed heavily on his mind. They had been nowhere to be found when the empire teetered on the brink of collapse only a couple of months ago. Yet now, as order was slowly being restored, they were showing their claws once more. Not at him, infuriatingly, but at his son.

They surely thought me weak, and not like my father. He muttered under his breath.

The mere presence of Alexander III had been enough to cow those around him, including family members. The grand dukes avoided him instinctively, their ambitions curbed the moment he entered a room. Those who dared oppose him learned swiftly what it meant to incur his wrath. His father had drawn an unmistakable line where family was concerned.

Where he did not or could not? Nicholas exhaled slowly.

The iron restraint that had once kept them obedient had died alongside his father. Nicholas knew that he could not be what his father was. The hulking figure who always carried with him the air of authority.

He remembered when his father held up the collapsed roof of the dining car when their train derailed, saving him and his siblings. He could still recall the image of his father at that time, standing above all of them, shouting at the top of his lungs to evacuate immediately as held the collapsed roof. From that day on, he had wanted nothing more than to become the kind of man his father was, decisive, feared, respected and strong. A ruler whose presence alone could steady the people around him.

But as the years passed, he came to realize how far he fell from that ideal.

He did not command rooms with a glance. He did not silence opposition with his voice alone. Where his father had inspired obedience through sheer force of will, Nicholas relied on compromise, persuasion, and patience. Where Alexander had been a mountain, Nicholas felt like a man constantly shoring up cracks in fragile walls.

Nicholas had hoped that his family could cover up those cracks. Helping him govern the empire where he lacked the most. But he soon realized that was just a delusion. Ambition, entitlement, and self-interest guided them far more than loyalty or duty.

He could only think of one reason that motivated his uncle, Grand Duke Vladimir, to target his son.

Last year, he had banished the grand duke's eldest son, Kirill, from the empire, stripping him of his imperial allowance, titles, honors, and decorations. Kirill had contracted a marriage with his own first cousin, Princess Victoria Melita, without Nicholas's permission and was in violation of the Russian Orthodox ban on marriages between first cousins, an act strictly forbidden under imperial law, and he had reacted with decisive severity after the advice of his mother and council.

His uncle, Vladimir had protested furiously, resigning in his posts and howling in outrage, but Nicholas for the first time had stood his ground against his uncle. The exile was enforced not just to punish disobedience, but to preserve the order he had deemed necessary for stability within his own family and the broader empire.

He had hoped that his decisive actions would earn him a measure of respect from his family, but it seemed that hope was misplaced. He would have to speak with his uncle soon, and he wondered whether he could still hold his ground against the inevitable tirade. The irony of it all was almost laughable, an emperor who could still be scolded by his own uncle. Nicholas made a mental note to visit his mother and consult his advisers, to seek their counsel and to consider whether banishing his uncle from the empire could be done without provoking serious repercussions.

With a heavy sigh, Nicholas shifted his gaze back to his desk, where a folder titled Agrarian Reform lay waiting. He was reminded that another problem still demanded his attention.

Straightening in his chair, he reached for the folder and began scrutinizing the reforms his prime minister had so casually added to his problems.
—---

November 3, 1906

Alexei walked the halls of the Winter Palace as he made his way toward the palace gardens. He wore his standard uniform, prim and proper, the dark fabric pressed to perfection and trimmed with subtle silver threading that caught the light of the chandeliers overhead.

At his side hung a ceremonial sword, its scabbard adorned with understated engravings, the hilt bearing his house's coat of arms and resting comfortably against his palm as he walked. Though ceremonial in name, the blade itself was well-balanced and keen, a symbol of both readiness for battle and steadfast defense.

Slightly behind him padded two wolves, their movements silent and fluid, as though they belonged to the palace as much as its stone walls. The black wolf, Trezor, moved with a calm, watchful presence, his dark fur absorbing the light as sharp eyes surveyed every corner. He kept to Alexei's left, his name. meaning safety, fitting him perfectly. On Alexei's right strode Katya, her white fur pristine and luminous, a striking contrast to the dimmer corridors. There was something serene in her gaze, something untainted, yet beneath that calm lay something primal, a force she could unleash the moment her master commanded it. Though not yet fully grown, both wolves were already large for their age, much like their master himself.

A few steps behind the wolves followed Nagorny and Sednev, their posture alert yet controlled as they walked. They maintained their distance, occasionally casting wary glances toward the animals. Even with constant exposure to the wolves, they could not help but remain cautious, a single bite to a vital area could mean severe injury, or even death. They had witnessed how the tsarevich trained the wolves alongside the imperial huntsmen and understood just how dangerous they could be. For all of the tsarevich's strange brilliance and flair, this was by far the most unsettling of his talents.

Though imperial huntsmen had aided in their training, the wolves always looked to the tsarevich for instruction, as if they had been taught long before any formal training ever began. The short time in which the wolves learned basic commands and gestures only deepened their bafflement, so much so that even the imperial huntsmen were bewildered. When asked about it, the tsarevich merely remarked, almost casually, that he must have been fortunate enough to find genius wolves. The imperial huntsmen accepted this explanation without hesitation, for they too believed the wolves to be unusually intelligent.

Nagorny and Sednev, however, sensed that something about it all was amiss. Nevertheless, they were trained to remain silent, and silent they would be.

Just a few nights earlier, the tsarevich had asked them a simple yet unsettling question, to whom did their loyalty truly belong to? They had answered without hesitation, that they were loyal to the tsar, and that as the tsarevich, such loyalty naturally extended to him. The tsarevich, however, had not seemed pleased with their response, dismissing them immediately after they spoke. Even now, they could not understand what they had said wrong, for they believed their answer to be honest and proper.

Still, despite that moment, the tsarevich continued to treat them as he always had. For that, at least, they relaxed.

Alexei saw his family at once as he exited the palace. His mother and father sat beneath the shade of tall trees, Nicholas relaxed yet observant beside Alexandra, while his grandmother and aunts occupied nearby chairs, their dresses arranged carefully against the grass. As usual, his uncle was nowhere to be found. His sisters were present as well, playing a short distance away, their laughter carrying softly through the garden.

He made his way toward them together with his dogs ahem wolves.

"Father. Mother." Alexei stopped at a respectful distance and bowed his head.
"Grandmother. Grand Duchesses."

He straightened and briefly turned toward his sisters, offering them a small smile and a nod. They returned it with eager curiosity, their attention already fixed on the animals at his side.

For a brief moment, all eyes were on him, then, almost in unison, their gazes shifted to the wolves.

"You're finally here, son. I thought you had given up already and secretly set your wolves free somewhere," Nicholas said at last, a playful smile tugging at his lips.

Alexei shrugged. "You wish, Father." He gestured toward the wolves sitting calmly beside him. "See? They're very well behaved."

Olga and Tatiana were about to run toward their brother, but their mother stopped them.

"Olga. Tatiana. Don't," Alexandra called out.

Their handmaids intervened in time, gently guiding the girls toward Alexandra and Nicholas.

"Get on with it now, Alexei, so you can send them away," Alexandra added, pulling Olga and Tatiana close while casting wary glances at the wolves.

Alexei smiled apologetically at his sisters, then looked to his father, who gave him a small nod.

The grand duchesses watched the scene unfold with clear intrigue, while his grandmother offered him a gentle, encouraging smile.

"Alright."

Alexei stepped farther away to give them a better view. He took two disk-shaped objects from Sednev, met the wolves' gazes briefly, then hurled the disks in quick succession toward an open stretch of lawn. Instantly, the wolves sprang forward, bolting from their positions and following the disks' trajectories with swift, powerful strides.

The wolves reached the fallen disks almost at the same time. With sharp, practiced movements, each clamped the object gently between their jaws before pivoting in perfect unison. Grass bent beneath their paws as they sprinted back.

Trezor returned first, stopping precisely before Alexei and lowering his head to place the disk neatly at his feet. A heartbeat later, Katya followed, mirroring her brother's action. Both wolves stepped back and sat, tails slightly wagging, their eyes fixed solely on him. He crouched down and gave them a gentle rub.

"Good job." He said with a smile.

A murmur rippled through the gathered family and servants.

"My goodness…" Grand Duchess Xenxia breathed, waving the fan in front of her.

Even Alexandra, still holding her daughters close, could not hide the surprise in her expression.

Nicholas leaned forward slightly in his chair, his earlier amusement giving way to open interest. He called toward the huntsman standing on standby nearby. When the man approached, Nicholas asked, "If wolves are capable of this, why have they never been trained before?"

The huntsman wiped the sweat from his brow before replying. "This is an exception, Your Majesty. Wolves are usually extremely difficult to train. Even after long periods, they may still bite, and their behavior is unpredictable. I cannot explain these two, but they are… unusually well behaved and intelligent."

"Hm…" Nicholas murmured, thoughtful, before waving the huntsman away.

Alexei continued. With a subtle gesture, the wolves rose at once and began to walk, pacing in a straight line across the lawn. When he clapped, they stopped instantly, turned, and walked back toward him along the same path. He demonstrated several more commands, each one met with flawless obedience. By the time he finished, his sisters were clapping enthusiastically.

"Brother, that was amazing!" Olga called out. "Do it again!"

Alexei shook his head with a soft laugh and smiled at them as he walked back toward his family, the wolves following close behind.

"Well?" he asked, sitting beside his father and taking a sip of water Sednev handed him. "What do you think, Father?"

"You put on quite a show, my son," Nicholas replied, pride evident in his voice.

"You must still be careful with them, Alexei," Alexandra added firmly. "And do not let your sisters touch them. Is that understood?"

Olga looked as though she might protest, but one glance at her mother's expression made her fall silent. She turned to her brother instead and pouted.

Alexei returned her look with an apologetic smile before nodding to his mother. "Understood. Does that mean I can keep them?"

"For now," Nicholas said seriously. "But if they bite anyone, they will be sent away immediately. The huntsman warned me that wolves are unpredictable. I will have Sednev and Nagorny report to me if they misbehave."

Alexei smiled faintly at that. As if. "All right."

They spoke for a while longer before Alexei rose from his seat and went to play with his sisters.

"Do you think Alexei will grow as tall as father?" Grand Duchess Xenia chimed in suddenly as they watched the children. "It won't be long before he reaches your height, brother."

Grand Duchess Olga, seated beside her, nodded in agreement.

"Are you calling me short, sister?" Nicholas asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Oh, please," Xenia replied with a playful smile. "Do you truly think you're that tall?"

Nicholas shook his head and returned his gaze to the children. "At this rate, he may even surpass his grandfather's height."

"Hm," Xenia murmured, nodding thoughtfully.

They fell silent for a moment before their mother, the Dowager Empress, spoke.

"Have you two given any thought to whom Alexei might marry in the future?"

Both Nicholas and Alexandra were caught off guard. They had not thought or talked about it, perhaps intentionally avoiding the subject altogether.

Nicholas did not answer. Instead, he glanced at his wife, silently prompting her to respond. Alexandra sighed before speaking.

"We haven't considered it yet, Mother. We both believe it's still far too early."

"There is no harm in beginning to consider such matters," the Dowager Empress replied calmly. "I will have someone begin compiling a list of suitable candidates. You both should be aware that your uncles and cousins are growing unruly. They disregard your authority and have the audacity to interfere in your personal affairs, including your son. It is best to be prepared."

The atmosphere grew tense at her words.

Nicholas and Alexandra fell silent, but it was Nicholas whose expression darkened the most, a deep frown settling on his face. The talks with his uncle Vladimir had not gone as well as he had hoped. Instead, it was Nicholas who found himself at a disadvantage for most of the exchange. His uncle had rallied much of the family to his side, uniting them in opposition and pressing Nicholas to reverse a decision he had already made, to end the exile of Vladimir's son, Kirill.

He had sought his mother's and council's advice on the matter and ultimately reached a decision, he would at least restore his cousin Kirill's title as Grand Duke, while maintaining the exile, for the time being. He could not simply revoke an order he had already issued so soon after giving it, yet he had little choice but to compromise. Many of his uncles and cousins, holding influential positions within his ministries and the military, had sided with his uncle, and he could not afford open conflict within the family, especially now, when the empire had only just survived a revolution and were still recovering from it.

The thought of compromising, of softening an order he had already given, rubbed painfully against his pride. Even if the concession was not blatant or glaring, he could see the ridicule and mockery lurking behind the smiles and polite expressions of those who knew what had transpired. He was certain the whispers were already spreading, that he was incompetent and incapable of managing even his own family as its head.

He offered a rueful smile to his mother and sisters before turning his attention back to the children. At least here, surrounded by his immediate family, he could still find a measure of peace.

His mother, the Dowager Empress, failed to notice the subtle change in her son's expression, her attention wholly captured by the children at play, particularly her grandson.

"Look at my grandson," she said fondly. "With looks like that, princesses across Europe will be lining up to marry him."

Grand Duchess Xenia, who had noticed her brother's earlier expression, seized the opportunity to steer the conversation away from uncles and cousins. "You're right, Mother. I've noticed his skin is especially smooth, without a single blemish. Oh, how I wish I had skin like that."

"Exactly," the Dowager Empress replied with a pleased smile, lifting her teacup. "I can't wait to see the faces of those princesses when they lay eyes on my Alexei."

Having successfully redirected the conversation, Grand Duchess Xenia indulged her mother's fantasies, and the two spoke lightly for a while. Eventually, however, the Dowager Empress Maria seemed to recall something and turned her attention back to her son.

"It is good for Alexei to visit and observe the various ministries as part of his education, my son," she said. "But are you certain about including the Okhrana? I heard he will begin his visit there in a few days, after finishing at the Ministry of Finance."

Nicholas met her gaze and nodded. "It has already been decided, Mother. I've heard that Alexei has been doing well during his visits and observations. I see no reason to stop now. Alexei also mentioned that he might find inspiration for his writing by reading past reports and recorded plots."

"I see," Maria said slowly. "Still, those reports can be… heavy. Aren't you worried he might write something detrimental to the empire, or to himself?"

Nicholas shook his head. "I've already assigned someone at his publishing house to oversee censorship, should it come to that. Alexandra and I also read his stories before they are published. You needn't worry, Mother."

The Dowager Empress sighed, lifting her teacup to soothe her dry throat, then turned her gaze back to the children playing on the lawn.

—-

Author's note: I'll try to post chapter 17 next week. But if I can't, see you all next year. Happy holidays.

 

[Apollo_Man]

With two wolves by his sides, along with him gaining access to the infamous Okhrana, he's in his way to take his great grandfather's torch and burn it even brighter.