“Where will the money come from?” It was the Chancellor of the Exchequer, Pavel Lisitsyn, who asked the soul-piercing question. Just how poor the Russian government really was, no one could say for sure. But one thing was certain, they definitely did not have the funds to build the Trans-Siberian Railway. As early as 1891, the Russian government had already organized a team of engineers to begin surveying the proposed railway route. That was the very same year when Nicholas II, then still heir to the throne, was attacked in Japan. Although Alexander III was considered a peace-loving tsar, he was also a devoted father. Had it not been for the transportation limitations of the time, the Russo-Japanese War might have erupted immediately after the Anglo-Russian War ended. Whether born of momentary anger or long-term planning, the Trans-Siberian Railway project was launched all the same. The survey results were shocking. Starting from Moscow, the route would have to cut through vast pine forests, cross the Ural Mountains, traverse the endless frozen tundra of Siberia, and finally reach the Pacific Ocean. The distance alone was daunting enough, but even worse were the natural conditions. If building a railway across flat plains cost one unit, then building through Siberia might cost two, three, or even four times as much. Without money, nothing could move forward with confidence. Just as the Russian government was hesitating on whether to begin construction, the Austrian government made its move. They unveiled an equally tempting proposal—the “Central Asian Railway Project.” That new offer only deepened the Tsar’s hesitation. Yet before the Russians could make up their minds, the Austrian government decided for them with a generous “assistance plan.” A glance at the map was enough to see that both the Siberian and Central Asian railways would cost astronomical sums. Asking the already struggling Russian government to shoulder that expense was practically suicidal. In the original timeline, the Russians had to live frugally just to build the Trans-Siberian line. In 1891 alone, the Russian government poured 1.46 billion rubles into the project, far exceeding the military budget for that year. After thirteen long and grueling years, on July 13, 1904, the world’s longest railway line finally opened for service. Even then, the remaining sections dragged on until 1916 before the entire line was completed. By comparison, the Central Asian Railway enjoyed slightly better construction conditions though only slightly. It did not run through permafrost, but the endless mountain ranges of Afghanistan were torment enough for any engineer. Whether for strategic needs or for financial reasons, the Russian government ultimately chose the Central Asian route without hesitation. Even knowing full well that the Austrian government was scheming to manipulate Anglo-Russian relations, the Tsar’s ministers had no room to refuse. As one optimistic Russian minister put it, “No matter how much calculation the Austrians have behind it, the Central Asian Railway will still benefit the Empire. Whether we march south or not, that decision remains in our hands.” In theory, there was nothing wrong with the plan. The initiative to move south did indeed lie in the hands of the Russian government, and the Austrian government could not possibly make that decision for them. But that kind of reasoning could only fool ordinary people. India was a massive, juicy prize already laid out on the table. To expect the Russian Bear to just sit there and not reach for a knife and fork was absurd. In essence, the Chancellor of the Exchequer’s suggestion to help Russia build the Trans-Siberian Railway was the same idea in a different form. Once the railway was completed, the greedy bear would naturally go hunting for food without anyone having to tell it to. Of course, Russia’s eastward expansion would hurt British interests, but compared to a southward advance into India, the difference was obvious. If the plan succeeded, containing Russia’s rise would no longer be Britain’s problem alone. The Holy Roman Empire would never sit idly by while the Russians carried out their so-called “Yellow Russia Plan.” If executed properly, the whole thing could end with Britain and Austria working together to trap the Russian Bear. After a round of proxy warfare, Russia would be battered and bruised again. Maybe not destroyed, but kept quiet for at least a decade. Most importantly, the plan would plant a thorn deep in the heart of the Austro-Russian Alliance. With that thorn in place, even if the two nations avoided open conflict, their relationship could never again be as close as it was now. And if all went well, when the inevitable struggle for supremacy between Britain and Austria came, the Russian government would likely be the one secretly tripping the Holy Roman Empire from behind. It was a perfect plan except for one glaring question: where would the money to build the Trans-Siberian Railway come from? The relationship between Britain and Russia was nothing like that between Russia and Austria. The Austrian government had agreed to “assist” with the Central Asian Railway only by covering part of the costs. Most of the actual expenses for exploration, design, and management came from Austria, while labor and materials were provided by Russia itself. Because of the Austro-Russian Alliance, even if there were objections within Austria, the government could still manage to push things through. But for Britain, that would be impossible. The blood from the Anglo-Russian War in Afghanistan hadn’t even dried yet. To suddenly offer money and manpower to help the Russians build a railway would be political suicide. The families of the soldiers who had died fighting Russia would tear the government apart with their bare hands. If such outrage spread among the public, the opposition parties would be the first to fan the flames. National interest was one thing, but party interest was another. In politics, it was always the same story: support whatever your enemy opposes, and oppose whatever your enemy supports. Whether it was right or wrong didn’t matter, the only thing that mattered was what served your agenda. If the shortfall were only a few hundred thousand pounds, they might still have found a way to patch it up quietly, hide it in the ledgers, and disguise it as a “special expenditure.” But a project like the Trans-Siberian Railway would require hundreds of millions of pounds. Even if the Russians provided their own labor and raw materials, it would still demand tens of millions. There was no way to keep that kind of expense a secret, no matter how clever the accounting. The First Lord of the Admiralty, Flora, finally spoke, “It’s not just about money. Our relations with Russia are already tense. Even if we offered to help build the Trans-Siberian Railway, the Russian government would never believe us. Unless we only provide the funds and keep our hands off the surveying, design, and construction, they’ll never trust our intentions.” This was an inevitable outcome. One day, an enemy suddenly shows up and offers to help you build a railway. Anyone would find that suspicious. From the Russian government’s perspective, if the British offered to help construct the Trans-Siberian Railway, the first reaction in Russia would be: they’re here to sabotage us. After all, the Central Asian Railway was already at a critical stage, and in just a few years it would be completed. The British feeling pressured was only natural. For the sake of India’s security, Britain attempting to disrupt the Central Asian Railway made perfect sense. Although the Russian Empire was vast, the Russian government’s ability to mobilize resources was limited. The Central Asian Railway alone had already consumed enormous manpower and materials. Starting another massive project like the Trans-Siberian Railway would only stretch logistics even thinner. No matter how the British tried to explain it, the Russians would still believe it was a ploy meant to delay the Central Asian Railway’s progress under the guise of cooperation. As for helping with survey work or construction, that was out of the question. Who could say whether a railway built by the British would even be usable in the end? As Flora once said, unless Britain only provided funds and let the Russians handle everything themselves, the Russian government would never truly feel at ease. The problem was that Britain would not feel at ease either if they were only giving money. Who could guarantee that the Russians would actually spend the funds on the Trans-Siberian Railway instead of using them to finance a campaign toward India? Morality was something neither government possessed. Asking two nations that lacked even the most basic trust to cooperate was nearly impossible. Foreign Secretary Cameron said, “The issue of trust is not as hard to solve as it looks. Since it would be inappropriate for us to negotiate directly, we could have a third country handle communication with the Russians. Convincing the Russian military industry to support the Trans-Siberian Railway won’t be too difficult. After all, the current Tsar is Nicholas II. His unpleasant experience during his visit to Tokyo is something he has never forgotten. From Nicholas II’s personal perspective, moving east to take revenge on Japan may be more tempting than marching south toward India. After all, we are not easy to bully either. Even if the Central Asian Railway becomes operational, Russia’s odds of victory would still be slim. Compared to going south, the eastern route offers a much higher chance of success and greater rewards. If Russia manages to realize its ‘Yellow Russia Plan’ before the struggle for global dominance ends, the world will once again find itself in a three-power balance. Given the choice, no one would willingly serve as a subordinate when they could be the master. Especially not the proud Russian Bear. Though the Russian-Austrian alliance may look solid on the surface, many Russians still resent the Holy Roman Empire’s position as the dominant power of Europe. This bait should be enough to lure them in. Once the Russian government takes this step, the alliance between Russia and Austria will collapse. Austria might tolerate a powerful Russian Empire, but it would never tolerate one capable of threatening its own existence. In some ways, Russia poses an even greater danger to the Holy Roman Empire than Britain does. Both are land powers, and they happen to share a border. Europe may be vast, but it cannot accommodate two continental hegemons. Compared to that, the real issue lies in funding. The members of Parliament would never agree to subsidize the Russians, even for strategic purposes.” “The Enemy is in the Parliament”—that was something every British government had lamented. To be fair, Parliament had caused more trouble for the government than any foreign rival ever could. Without the constant obstruction of Parliament and the opposition parties, the international situation would never have deteriorated this far. Back in the middle of the European War, the previous British government had already wanted to intervene, but endless debates and political wrangling wasted precious time. By the time they finally reached a decision, France was already defeated. There was nothing left to discuss. Once the dust settled, Britain naturally had no choice but to betray its ally. Sharing prosperity with Britain might be acceptable, but sharing hardship was impossible. That was not the first time something like this had happened. Similar stories could be traced back to the Ottoman Wars, France’s annexation of Italy, Austria’s takeover of southern Germany, and many other international events. In 1895, Britain could do nothing against the Holy Roman Empire, but forty years earlier, it had more than enough power to stop Austria’s expansion. Even if it could not stop Austria from annexing southern Germany, it could at least have sabotaged Austria’s colonial ambitions. The Royal Navy had held absolute dominance until the early 1880s. Before that, the Austrian Navy had always been a mere small fry. It was only after the advent of the pre-dreadnought era that the gap narrowed enough for both sides to inflict serious damage on each other. Yet because the focus of the time was on France and Russia, politicians underestimated Austria’s growing threat. By the time Britain finally realized the danger, the Holy Roman Empire was already taking shape, and it was too late to act. In this world, there is everything except a cure for regret. With one careless mistake, British hegemony now faced its greatest challenge yet. The problems that had plagued past leaders were now once again falling into the hands of the current British government. If Parliament could not be persuaded, there would be no funding for the Trans-Siberian Railway. Without the railway, there would be no way to redirect Russia’s ambitions eastward. If the Russian government refused to look east, the grand plan to divide the Russian-Austrian alliance would remain nothing more than an illusion. After a moment of silence, Prime Minister Robert Cecil nodded and said, “The Foreign Office will find a suitable third party to contact the Russians. With a middleman involved, we can at least avoid the public’s outrage. As for Parliament, try to speak privately with some of the party members. I will pay a visit to the Queen myself.” There was no other choice. Facing Parliament alone, even Prime Minister Robert Cecil had to yield and seek help. During the Victorian era, the British monarchy was far from a mere decoration. Though the aging Queen Victoria rarely involved herself in politics anymore, no one could ignore her influence. To silence the dissenting voices in Parliament, the power of the Conservative Party alone would not be enough. For the sake of the Empire, Robert Cecil had no choice but to turn to Queen Victoria for support.
*** https://postimg.cc/gallery/PwXsBkC (Maps of the current territories of the countries in this novel made by ScH)
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