The Tsarevich's Gambit (2)

Russia and Japan—what truly was the balance of power between our empires?

Russia, after decades of military expansion, could mobilize three million soldiers within weeks and commanded the world's third-largest naval force. Japan, meanwhile, had yet to secure the Anglo-Japanese Alliance and struggled to construct even basic cruisers.

Of course, this assessment remained superficial. Considering that Russia's military strength concentrated in Europe, actual warfare would be logistically absurd. Even victory would prove pyrrhic at best.

Threats, however, remained viable. We could easily apply pressure regarding Korean or Chinese matters.

But even this approach risks mutual destruction.

Russian-Japanese antagonism in the Far East might produce diplomatic curiosities—perhaps those distant island allies donning kimonos while performing Cossack dances at diplomatic banquets. While an amusing spectacle, we couldn't jeopardize imperial interests merely to witness it.

I had no intention of escalating this incident, nor should it escalate.

But rationality was only one dimension of the equation.

"We must display emotion," I murmured.

After all, this wasn't a simple attack but an attempt on a crown prince during a state visit. Moreover, the crown prince and Greek prince had subdued the attacker themselves—a police officer, no less. No nation would simply dismiss such an affront with platitudes about peaceful relations.

If they would, World War I would never have materialized.

"Your Highness, Admiral Romen requests an audience."

"Admiral Romen? Send him in."

Romen Nikolai Nikolaevich entered—commander of the six-vessel fleet assigned to my world tour and the individual responsible for my security.

"Your Highness, how severe are your injuries?" Concern etched his weathered features.

"Nothing of consequence, Admiral. Merely a superficial laceration."

"The physician indicated that had the blade penetrated deeper near your temple, the outcome could have been fatal."

"But it didn't."

"Your Highness, witnesses reported you stumbled backward..."

"Theatrical embellishment. For their benefit."

Why would I stagger from such minimal blood loss? I'd leveraged the pretense of physical and psychological trauma, and Prince Takehito's ensuing panic—his fears that I might perish—was precisely the reaction I'd anticipated.

"I assure you this incident won't reflect poorly on the Admiral's performance."

"My familial connections, despite appearances, include generals stationed in the capital. Your position remains secure."

Of course—his assignment to my world tour necessarily indicated prestigious lineage. Wasn't Admiral Romen's father a major general?

"More pressing, however—you mentioned transferring communication responsibilities with Japanese officials to me rather than your aides?"

"Ah, yes."

My aides—those select few who accompanied me throughout this journey, sharing diversions, literature, and meals.

While they hail from noble or distinguished families... well.

However, the recluse who had once ridiculed this frustrating history from the comfort of his room required no such companionship.

"They're approximately my age, making their involvement in such a significant incident somewhat delicate. Since this concerns my personal safety, the Admiral's intervention seems more appropriate, wouldn't you agree?"

"Regarding that matter, your instructions were rather peculiar. Directing me to project intense anger, suggesting imminent departure..."

"Precisely. I have no desire to appear magnanimous. I wish to preserve potential for this incident's expansion."

"Your Highness, the Far East currently balances on a precarious edge. China and Korea face internal turmoil, and our expansion into the region spans merely half a century."

"I'm well aware. Acutely so. But that represents the purely pragmatic perspective."

Admiral Romen articulated exactly what I had contemplated moments earlier. Yet again, that was merely rational calculation.

"I am the Crown Prince of the Russian Empire. And that Crown Prince nearly perished today."

"Are you advocating for war?"

"Surely I'm not quite so deranged."

"Then perhaps clemency might serve our future interests in Asia favorably."

"It's frustrating when comprehension eludes you."

Observing Admiral Romen's persistent attempts at dissuasion, I abandoned the pretense of aristocratic restraint with an exasperated sigh.

"Admiral Romen."

"Yes, Your Highness."

"I intend to extract compensation. Do you understand? I seek substantial reparations from the Japanese Empire."

To be attacked and respond with laughter? Even insurance fraudsters bedridden with fictitious ailments wouldn't surrender such leverage—what manner of submissiveness was he suggesting?

"You're instructing me to serve as your representative and demand financial restitution—"

"Yes. Precisely."

But what if Russia genuinely declared war? Particularly with relations already strained by our involvement in Korean affairs?

That's where the Admiral's representation becomes invaluable.

Maintain your position and continue demanding compensation. They'll begin with apologies before becoming agitated, but I've no intention of accepting.

For while I might present as an unremarkable, ineffectual crown prince, my father represents something entirely different.

"Can you execute this task?"

"I should first consult St. Petersburg—"

"Why such hesitation? This transpired in Otsu—why involve the imperial capital?"

I preferred localizing this incident rather than elevating it to higher authorities. Yet if resolution proved impossible here, the consequences wouldn't merely escalate incrementally—they would amplify exponentially.

Admiral Romen stared at me wordlessly, seemingly questioning my sincerity.

I reversed the inquiry.

"Will you do this?"

"...Yes."

Direct communication yielded the response I sought.

"Excellent. Now intimidate that apprehensive nation. My specific demands are outlined in the document I provided earlier."

Although Admiral Romen departed with lingering uncertainty, his comprehension incomplete, the outcome remained assured.

The day of the attempted assassination of the Russian Crown Prince.

"We're ruined! Completely ruined!" Prince Takehito remained at the scene, trembling uncontrollably.

His distress transcended the assassination attempt itself.

Unlike his father, the Crown Prince had openly demonstrated goodwill, attributing peace in the Far East—including Korea—to Japan's influence. Yet he had transformed instantly: staggering, blood-drenched, uttering those damning words.

Father was right.

Several interpreters approached Takehito, repeatedly confirming the Crown Prince's parting statement.

Who was Crown Prince Nicholas's father, Alexander III?

A war monarch notorious for relentless territorial expansion and military devotion.

Reportedly towering over his countrymen, legends described him single-handedly lifting a train carriage roof to rescue his family during a derailment.

The abrupt transformation of the seemingly innocent Crown Prince was shocking enough, but should this incident reach the Tsar's attention?

War becomes inevitable.

Though his military background left him with limited diplomatic or political insight, one certainty remained: confrontation with Russia would fracture the Japanese Empire like scattered islands.

They had assigned six ironclad vessels solely for the Crown Prince's journey—what destruction might the European Baltic and Black Sea fleets inflict?

"God help us..."

This crisis exceeded a prince's authority. Though already beyond his control, the problem might prove insurmountable even for his superiors.

All because of a single policeman selected from Moriyama Police Station for security detail.

"This cannot be happening!"

Though bewildered by how such an individual had secured a police uniform and wielded a sword, Prince Takehito's anguish surpassed even Crown Prince Nicholas's physical pain.

After his rage subsided and clarity returned, he noticed the sword still embedded in the rickshaw wood. This was no time for lamentation.

He needed to locate the Crown Prince who had returned to his ship rather than his lodgings immediately following the incident.

Whether through desperate supplication or heartfelt appeal, he must meet with him.

This incident must not expand. If it does, I'll bear partial responsibility!

Resolution at the Crown Prince's level remained essential—involvement of higher authorities, particularly Alexander III, must be prevented.

Should the Tsar's fury ignite, the incident would instantly reach Tokyo.

Therefore, he had to reach the Crown Prince before anyone else, at minimum to assess his condition.

However, upon arriving at Shiga Port, Takehito encountered not the Crown Prince but Admiral Romen.

"Admiral, how fares the Crown Prince?"

"He collapsed immediately upon reaching the deck. It appears the tension dissipated once he achieved safety. The physician indicates the psychological trauma was substantial; we cannot predict when consciousness will return."

"Oh no..."

"Henceforth, I, as Admiral commanding this fleet, shall fulfill the Tsar's protective mandate without compromise."

"What do you mean—"

"Therefore, vacate this vessel. Consider this my final warning."

Unmistakable hostility radiated from Admiral Romen's eyes—a determination to take any measure necessary for the Crown Prince's protection.

Confronted with the sight of the collapsed Crown Prince Nicholas and sailors in full battle armor guarding the deck, Prince Takehito wished fervently that he had been the one to receive Tsuda's blade instead.