A Blueprint for Empire

The journey back to Khabarovsk was somber, the rhythmic click of the train wheels marking time as I absorbed the reality of Father's passing. The telegram had delivered the news with clinical brevity, yet its impact resonated through my very being.

'Father has passed away.'

Despite knowing this moment would come—had been inevitable since my arrival in this body—the finality of it left an emptiness I hadn't anticipated. My eyes remained dry even as my heart felt hollowed out, a contradiction that seemed fitting for this strange existence I now led.

"Your Highness," my aide approached cautiously, breaking my reverie.

"What?"

"The Tsar's final order through the communications department."

"Speak."

"The Crown Prince should complete all given tasks before returning. That is all."

I fell silent, struck by the characteristic stoicism of Father's final directive. Even in death, he remained true to himself—placing duty above sentimentality, empire above family. Yet within that rigid command, I recognized a father's final gift to his son: time and space to complete what I had begun, free from the immediate burdens of succession.

"Your Highness, shall we return immediately?" Governor-General Sergei asked, clearly uncomfortable with the delay.

"One week," I decided. "Let's delay it for one week."

"But in St. Petersburg, they're waiting for your return—"

"It was father's final order, wasn't it?"

I knew what was happening in the capital. The Orthodox funeral services would already be underway, the imperial family and nobility filing past Father's coffin to pay their respects. As his son, I should have been among the first to bid farewell.

Yet rushing back now would only dishonor his final wish. He had granted me this time deliberately, knowing the importance of what I sought to accomplish in the Far East. The most fitting tribute I could offer was to use it well.

My heart warmed with a surge of gratitude as I realized the magnitude of his final act. Though we had differed in approach and vision, in the end, he had trusted me enough to complete my mission.

"Roman," I turned to Kondratenko, "I'll teach you quickly from now on, so learn well without missing anything."

"Pardon?" the colonel replied, confusion evident in his expression.

"We have no time to waste," I declared. "There's an empire to build."

Back in Khabarovsk, I immediately summoned maps, reports, and the collection of officers I had gradually assembled over the years. Among them, Roman Kondratenko remained my most promising protégé—the man I would groom to implement my vision long after I returned to St. Petersburg.

"Do you know which region has shown the fastest industrial development in the empire since Sergei Witte became Finance Minister?" I asked him, gesturing toward the economic reports spread before us.

Roman considered the question carefully. "Well, given the rapid increase in trade volume, wouldn't it be the port cities?"

"No. It's the Donetsk coal basin."

His expression registered surprise, and I launched into the lesson I had prepared—the foundation for everything that would follow.

"Coal is like oxygen for industry. Without it, industrial development is impossible from the start. And the Far East is a land filled with coal."

I directed his attention to the Primorye region—known to Koreans as Yeonhaeju—where seven coal mines already operated, with twenty-one more sites identified for development.

"This means we can extract as much as we want just by putting in miners. The deposits are immeasurable even for the future."

The potential was staggering. The area around Vladivostok alone could produce twenty million tons annually without signs of depletion—and that was just one small portion of the vast Far Eastern territories.

"Though your words weren't entirely wrong," I continued. "Donetsk is developing rapidly through its ports along the Black Sea."

"Just like this place," Roman observed, beginning to see the parallel.

"Coal, ports, and lastly, one more thing. Railways."

The pattern emerged clearly: places connecting inland and sea, where resources gathered and exchanges flourished, became engines of industrial growth. Donetsk and Primorye shared these essential elements, but with a crucial difference.

"But wasn't Donetsk famous for its salt mines even before the empire managed it? It's quite different from here," Roman noted perceptively.

"Yes, that's why we need your role."

Donetsk, with its record-breaking industrial growth, had developed organically through centuries of use by various powers, including the Ottoman Empire. Industrialists had already established themselves there, creating self-sustaining economic momentum.

The Far East, by contrast, remained largely untapped—a frozen wilderness punctuated by scattered settlements of those who had fled their countries of origin.

"Donetsk didn't develop because the imperial government did anything particularly well," I explained. "It just grew on its own as long as we kept it from being occupied."

"Then should I just ensure this place doesn't get occupied—"

"But it's different here," I interrupted. "Here, the state needs to step in for development. More precisely, the Governor-General's Office needs to take action."

State-led development—economic planning—seemed anachronistic in this era, but I knew its power to transform desolate regions into industrial powerhouses. The Governor-General's Office would provide the initial framework and direction, creating conditions for organic growth to follow.

"You just need to draw up policies and the big picture here," I told Roman. "The rest, those fellows will handle on their own."

I gestured toward the veterans who had gathered around our map table—former officers who had followed me to this distant land, men who had already begun establishing themselves in the region's nascent economic landscape.

"Um... soldiers becoming industrialists overnight," Roman objected skeptically. "No matter how I think about it, this seems bound to fail."

"It won't fail," I countered confidently. "Because when money flows in this region, it can't help but develop."

"That's exactly what I mean. The money from Japan ends this year, and the imperial government won't pour unlimited funds either."

"No, that's not the only money available."

The veterans exchanged glances, trying to imagine what hidden treasure I might have discovered in this seemingly barren wasteland.

"... Don't tell me," Roman said, realization dawning.

"Yes, that money."

"Your Highness, did you come to the Far East personally from the beginning for this—"

"Think what you will of that," I replied with a slight smile.

The negotiated settlement with Japan and China had secured 120 million yang—equivalent to approximately 180 million yen—as Russia's share. An astronomical sum that would transform the region if properly applied.

"Witte will probably throw a fit saying it's funds for reforms, but it's fine. It won't be sent to the capital."

"...I will use the provided funds quietly," Roman suggested cautiously.

"What do you mean?"

His concern amused me—was he worried about drawing too much attention, or perhaps about causing Minister Witte digestive distress?

"It's the opposite," I explained. "There's plenty of money here. We received what amounts to two years of the Japanese Empire's budget from our country. So we should shout for everyone to come and grab this blind money."

"Wouldn't that only attract predators?" he asked.

"Those predators are industrialists."

The Far East's colonial administrative structure created unique conditions—minimal laws and regulations, no established cities or entrenched competitors. But most importantly, it now had money flowing like an endless spring. What true industrialist could resist such an opportunity?

"Forget about that Russia in Europe," I told him. "This place will be completely different."

I had studied enough economic history to recognize the pattern. The New Deal in America, South Korea's economic miracle—successful state-led development always began the same way: when the state, with resources dwarfing any private enterprise, opened its purse directly.

There was no need for complex theories about trickle-down effects. The core principle was simpler: create a region where money flows, and development follows.

"Now let's get into specific work talk," I continued. "Your very first task."

"Yes, what is it?"

"Minister Li Hongzhang said this. He'll give us the right to build the South Manchurian Railway if we can connect it with their line."

At last, we would have workers to tax in a region previously populated only by tax-evading farmers. The foundation for sustainable economic development was taking shape.

Roman Kondratenko's education proceeded with remarkable efficiency. His background—Polotsk Military School, Engineering Academy, Staff Officer School, and the Nikolaev Engineering Institute—had prepared him to absorb complex concepts quickly. While his economic knowledge might require supplementation through capable assistants, as a soldier, he grasped the strategic direction with admirable clarity.

I was grooming him for eventual promotion to Governor-General, but before that could happen, there was one more critical meeting to conduct.

"You could have obtained most of the Manchurian territory," Governor-General Sergei remarked as we discussed the treaty terms.

"It's still unripe land," I replied dismissively. "Don't worry, it will naturally roll into our hands soon anyway."

The Qing Dynasty's hold on Manchuria resembled a sandcastle facing rising tide. When that tide receded, Russian flags would naturally replace Chinese ones—no need to force the process prematurely.

"Governor Sergei, five years at most," I promised. "If you watch over that fellow, I'll call you to the capital."

"In fact, Your Highness is now the Tsar. I will follow whatever you command."

I felt a twinge of guilt at replacing Sergei with Roman, but the stakes were too high to be sentimental. Roman's proven capabilities made him the superior choice for implementing my vision.

To ease the awkwardness, I changed the subject. "How is Beren doing? I heard he's quite capable at his work, coming from logistics."

"Many of those Your Highness sent initially struggled to adapt as if they'd fallen from the sky, but that fellow is different. He even said this place is the only place in the world where labor costs less than in the military."

"...He was that kind of person in his serving unit too."

Beren had transitioned smoothly from military logistics officer to civilian supplier, currently handling food distribution and material delivery for newly constructed units. His practical approach to the region's challenges suggested significant potential for growth.

"That's how this Far East is," I observed. "A land abandoned by the empire. A place given only responsibilities without any investment."

"I still don't understand what potential Your Highness saw in this land," Sergei confessed. "While there will be no expectations, support, or plans from the mainland, you tell me to build up the military."

Outside the window, engineers bustled about, constructing new barracks for the expanded garrison I had ordered.

"This too is a kind of policy," I explained. "Military units are groups focused solely on consumption, making them the best consumers."

"That's not all there is to it, is it?"

With only three days remaining before my departure for St. Petersburg, I wondered when I would next see this land with my own eyes—this frontier I had adopted as my personal project.

"Governor Sergei."

"Yes."

"Even though we've signed a treaty, the scent of war lingering in my nose hasn't faded."

Not immediately, perhaps. Maybe not even within five years. With luck, we might avoid entirely the Russo-Japanese War of the original timeline.

But eventually, the tide of imperialism sweeping through East Asia would reach these shores. It was inevitable.

Li Hongzhang had attempted to address this problem through balance-of-power politics—creating a three-way equilibrium where Russia and Japan maintained sufficient friction to protect Qing's interests. A quintessentially Chinese continental approach to diplomacy.

But I, shaped by my life as heir to a European great power, saw matters differently.

'With such self-centered thinking in diplomacy, you won't last long.'

Even Russia had needed to draw in reluctant Germany and distant France to effectively pressure Japan. Li's assumption that balance could be easily manufactured struck me as dangerously naive.

"After I leave, spread the news to other countries about obtaining railway construction rights from Qing," I instructed Sergei.

"Pardon?"

Li Hongzhang surely recognized that Russia would eventually gain effective control over Manchuria, naturally connecting it to the Trans-Siberian Railway even without formal agreements. That's why he had officially invited Russian labor, technology, and capital to build railways connecting to Chinese territory—hoping to maintain nominal Qing sovereignty through formal arrangements.

Qing's continued existence depended not on its own strength but on its sheer size, which prevented any single power from monopolizing it.

'That old man is quite something too. Protecting the country by drawing in more outsiders.'

It was a dangerous gambit that could easily brand him a traitor, negating his life's work. Yet Li had crafted this grand design behind the railway construction nonetheless.

My ambitions, however, were more modest than he presumed.

"Every nation with most-favored-nation treatment will rush in," I explained to Sergei. "They'll probably do anything to connect railways in front of their concessions, just like we have construction rights in Manchuria."

"The countries that couldn't join that most-favored-nation treatment would probably be..."

"Are there any besides Japan? The Sino-Japanese Treaty of Peace and Friendship, over 20 years old, was abolished along with this war."

The list of powers with interests in China stretched long: Britain, America, Germany, France, Austria-Hungary, Italy—all eager to secure their share of the declining empire's wealth.

If Japan initiated war despite this complex web of international interests...

'Then I'll acknowledge it.'

I would concede Korea cleanly rather than risk broader conflict. But did Japan possess such confidence? Prime Minister Ito had accepted terms and departed based solely on my word as the new Tsar.

Would the Japanese Empire, having only recently emerged onto the world stage, truly antagonize all the great powers simply to extend its reach to the Asian mainland?

"Well, I saw reason still remaining in Prime Minister Ito's eyes."

For Japan to pursue such a course would require abandoning reason entirely, leaving only the predatory instinct of imperialism.

"Perhaps even more opium than China," I mused aloud.

On my final evening in Khabarovsk, I stood alone on the balcony of the Governor-General's residence, gazing eastward toward the territories that had consumed my thoughts for years.

What strange twist of fate had placed me here, in this body, at this moment in history? The coincidence seemed too perfect—a man with modern knowledge of economic development and historical hindsight, transported into the very person positioned to reshape Russia's eastern strategy.

The plans I had set in motion would take years to fully mature. The Trans-Siberian Railway would continue its glacial progress eastward. Port Arthur's fortifications would gradually rise under Roman's supervision. Coal mines would expand, settlements would grow, and trade would increase.

But the fundamental question remained unanswered: would it be enough?

Could these preparations, however carefully conceived, truly alter the course of history? Could Russia avoid the catastrophic defeat that had historically precipitated revolution and collapse?

And even if we prevented war with Japan, what of the greater conflict looming in Europe? The tangled alliances, the militarism, the nationalism—all the ingredients for the Great War were already mixing.

"Your Majesty," Roman's voice interrupted my reflections. "The final documents require your signature."

I turned from the view, accepting the pen he offered. "Thank you, General."

"Still only a colonel, Your Majesty," he corrected with a slight smile.

"Not for long," I replied, signing the papers that would confirm his new responsibilities. "By the time I reach St. Petersburg, your promotion orders will be drafted."

As he accepted the documents, I studied him carefully—this man who would become my proxy in the East, tasked with implementing a vision that spanned decades.

"General Roman," I said quietly, "remember what I've taught you. Not just about fortifications and railways, but about vision. This land isn't merely a distant outpost to be defended; it's the future of Russia itself."

"I understand, Your Majesty."

"I'm not certain you do—not fully. But you will." I clasped his shoulder firmly. "Because you'll witness it firsthand while I'm trapped in gilded rooms listening to ministers debate taxation."

He laughed at that, the formality between us briefly dissolving. "Then I shall be your eyes and hands here, Your Majesty."

"Good." I released him, turning back to the view. "Because the game has only just begun."

The pieces were set. The opening moves played. Now came the middle game, where strategy would determine everything.

In the morning, I would board the train that would carry me to St. Petersburg, to the throne, to the awesome responsibility of ruling the world's largest land empire. I would leave behind this wilderness that had become my obsession, trusting others to nurture what I had planted.

But I would return. Someday, when opportunity allowed, I would stand again on this frontier and see what my blueprints had built.

An empire within an empire—a new Russia in the East, ready to face whatever challenges history might bring.