The Price of Progress (8)

In his eyes, he was just a puppet king of an infinitely small country.

No different from a foal only asking for help everywhere without standing on its own.

In June '96, the pro-Japanese cabinet that lost governing ability when the king disappeared collapsed.

However, Kim Hong-jip wasn't beaten to death by pro-Gojong merchants or cabinet members weren't captured.

They only received nominal punishment.

"The crime of lusting for power as a royal elder is no different from Sedo politics, an atrocious crime. Criminal Yi Ha-eung is stripped of Daewongun position and forbidden from setting foot in Hanseong again."

'A peaceful treaty with a country to war with, what an absurd development.'

'Needless suspicion, needless suspicion.'

But the more they recalled the Tsar they knew, the more the hazy future of the Duma seemed to become clear.

One fortunate point Governor Sergei considered was:

"Beren Volkov, that fellow just formally holds an independent seat so he'll have no influence here."

"Surely he's not causing trouble there?"

"That guy's just a soldier, just an ignorant soldier."

Whatever the Duma's future, the Far East was too far to be affected.

I reviewed the report on the Korean situation with mixed feelings. The resolution had been smoother than anticipated—almost disappointingly so. The pro-Japanese cabinet had indeed collapsed after King Gojong's flight to our legation, but the aftermath lacked the decisive consequences I had expected. The punishments were largely symbolic, mere slaps on the wrist for those who had effectively committed treason against their monarch.

"A puppet king of an infinitely small country," I murmured, repeating the dismissive phrase from the report. The description bothered me, though I couldn't immediately identify why. Perhaps because it echoed how many European powers viewed Russia itself—as an oversized, backward nation pretending to greatness.

From my window, I could see the first session of the State Duma preparing to convene. Representatives from across the empire gathered in small clusters, many looking uncertain about their roles in this unprecedented assembly. The Democratic Party members were easy to identify by their confident bearing and animated discussions. The Conservatives kept to themselves, eyeing the proceedings with a mixture of suspicion and determination.

My thoughts returned to the Far East. Governor-General Sergei's assessment that the Duma's influence wouldn't extend to those distant territories was both correct and shortsighted. The Far East might be physically removed from St. Petersburg politics, but the decisions made here would inevitably shape Russia's capacity to protect and develop those regions.

And there was Beren Volkov, dismissed as "just a soldier" by those who failed to understand that soldiers were precisely who understood the realities of empire at its edges. His independent seat in the Duma might seem inconsequential now, but I had learned never to underestimate those who had witnessed firsthand the challenges of our borderlands.

"Your Majesty," my aide announced from the doorway, "the Duma awaits your opening address."

I nodded, setting aside the Korean reports. "I'll be there momentarily."

The opening of parliament represented a calculated risk—a gamble that controlled reform might prevent uncontrolled revolution. Standing before them, I would seem to be granting power while actually creating a theater for exposing the fundamental contradictions in Russian society.

As I prepared to address this first Duma, I couldn't help but draw parallels between my position and that of Korea's Gojong. We were both monarchs navigating treacherous waters, trying to preserve our authority while appearing to embrace change. The difference was that I intended to control the currents that would eventually reshape Russia, while Gojong merely drifted upon them.

The puppet king had fled to Russian protection, but who would protect Russia itself from the forces of history? That responsibility fell to me alone.

I straightened my uniform, checked my prepared remarks one final time, and stepped out to face the assembled representatives of the Russian Empire. The game had truly begun.