Whether or not the true masterminds could be found, life had to go on. After a few scapegoats were punished, the “Khodynka Tragedy” was officially considered closed. Public backlash can make people mature, but it can also drive them into paranoia. Nicholas II had fallen into the latter. The failure to uncover the truth behind the tragedy had eroded his trust in government officials. That alone would not have been unusual. Many monarchs throughout history had distrusted their bureaucrats. In fact, a healthy skepticism toward one’s officials was often a necessary trait for a successful ruler. The real problem was that Nicholas II could not control his emotions. Before finding competent replacements, he had already revealed his true thoughts and lost composure in front of his ministers. In this respect, he was much like Emperor Chongzhen of the Ming Dynasty. When he trusted someone, he did so unconditionally. Once betrayed, he would swing to the opposite extreme and trust no one. The bureaucratic class, however, was not easily bullied. No one dared openly defy the Tsar, but there were many subtle ways to make his life difficult. Soon, petitions flooded his desk from all corners of the empire, with requests for local autonomy, demands to open representative assemblies, and calls for broader elections. … Paris, Headquarters of the Russian Expeditionary Army General Onetz frowned as he hung up the telephone. Another call demanding supplies. In recent weeks, the endless shortages had nearly driven him mad. As the officer directly responsible for the chaos that had engulfed France following the Russian army’s plundering of local areas, Onetz was now in a state of disgrace, trying to redeem himself through service. To atone for his mistakes, he had thrown himself zealously into crushing the French resistance forces. “Send another telegram to the homeland,” he ordered. “When are our supplies arriving?” That was the Russian Empire’s old habit. Nothing arrived unless you kept pressing for it. Whether the front was fighting or not, bureaucrats always found a way to profit first. In their quest to skim off as much as possible, the army’s logistics department followed a simple rule: “Save a penny if you can, delay a day if you must.” In this regard, the bureaucrats had unmatched talent. “General, in the past week, we have already sent seven telegrams to the logistics department and the Ministry of War. Apart from one brief reply from the Ministry telling us to wait, the rest vanished without a trace. Considering the recent news, I fear something has happened at home that we are not yet aware of. Until we understand the situation, it would be unwise to get involved,” his aide-de-camp warned. Under normal circumstances, even if supplies were delayed, the logistics department would still send a reply. Such complete silence could mean only two things. Either the telegraph operators were neglecting their duty, or something had gone terribly wrong within the government. General Onetz nodded and said helplessly, “Send another telegram to urge them. Make the tone more forceful. Tell them that if the supplies fail to arrive on time and cause the frontline operation to collapse, they will bear full responsibility. Also, inform all officers at the division level and above to attend a meeting tonight.” Political turmoil at home and disrupted supply lines at the front, this was truly a disaster that came out of nowhere. If he had been a powerful general, he could have confronted the bureaucrats directly or even appealed to the Tsar himself. But Onetz, born into a minor noble family, was not the sort of man who dared offend the officials in the logistics department completely. Yet the supply problem could not simply be ignored. Fortunately, the Austrian government had sponsored a large shipment of potatoes; otherwise, Onetz would not even have had time to think about possible solutions. It might appear that the Russian army, occupying the “wealthy” Paris region, would have no trouble with food or logistics. Under normal circumstances, that might have been true, but the situation was very different now. Unlike Germany in the original timeline, after the European War ended, the Anti-French Alliance did not demand industrial goods as reparations from France. Naturally, they also did nothing to help restore the country’s industries. Though the Bourbon monarchy tried to rebuild the economy after returning to power, a collapsed domestic market left France without the foundation for industrial recovery. In 19th-century Europe, agriculture and industry were the only sectors capable of employing large numbers of people. With no other options available, unemployment was inevitable, and a stagnant economy soon followed. Once-prosperous Paris had now become a vast slum. Since France’s defeat, the region’s population had been in steady decline, except for a brief surge during the refugee crisis. After the Carlos administration collapsed following massive strikes, the exodus worsened. Every day, thousands of desperate families left this land of hopelessness. When even the locals could no longer survive and were forced to flee, gathering military supplies locally for hundreds of thousands of Russian troops was nothing but wishful thinking. “Yes, General,” the aide-de-camp replied. As he turned to leave, General Onetz suddenly stopped him and called out, “Wait. There’s no need to press them anymore. Something major must have happened back home, and they probably have no time to care about us for now. Send a telegram directly to the Joint Command. Explain our situation in detail and request emergency supplies.” To be honest, Onetz would never have taken this step if he had any other choice. Although the Joint Command was nominally the superior authority over the Russian Expeditionary Army, it had long since devolved, after the Anti-French War, into nothing more than a symbolic liaison office. Although they still held nominal jurisdiction, that was only for political reasons. In reality, the actions of the Russian army were no longer constrained by the Joint Command. With this nominal authority, the Russians could still request assistance from the Joint Command. For the sake of suppressing France, the Austrian government certainly would not stand idly by. However, there is no such thing as a free lunch. Once the Russian army accepted provisions and funding from the Joint Command, it would no longer be possible to maintain its current independence. If this matter only concerned the independent command of the hundreds of thousands of Russian troops at the front, the impoverished Russian government would probably have already sold it to the Austrian government. Becoming mercenaries was nothing new in history, and as long as the price was right, the Russian government would not mind. The problem was that once the Joint Command got involved, things would become far more complicated. Once the Joint Command obtained authority over the Russian army, would it not follow that the command of other national forces should also be transferred? There was no doubt that without the Russian Empire acting as the leading dissenter, the other members of the anti-French coalition would never be able to oppose Austria’s will. Although General Onetz was not a professional politician, the fact that he had climbed to his current position meant he was no political novice. With his political instincts, he understood that once the Joint Command seized real power, the consequences would be severe. It was true that Russia and Austria were allies, but that did not mean the Russian Empire was also an ally of the Holy Roman Empire. To ordinary people, it might seem all the same since the Austrian government led both. But General Onetz understood that there was an essential difference between the two. The former Austrian Empire had been powerful, but its strength was not far removed from that of Russia, allowing the two nations to stand as equals. Things are different now. Although he was reluctant to admit it, General Onetz knew the gap in strength between Russia and the Holy Roman Empire had completely widened. Was the difference twofold, threefold, or even greater? No one could say for sure. What was certain was that the Russian Empire had truly fallen behind. As an old-fashioned empire, Russia naturally refused to become a subordinate of the Holy Roman Empire. According to what General Onetz knew, the Russian government had made many efforts in secret to free itself from the Holy Roman Empire’s economic control. By handing over command of the Russian forces in France, he knew this would be a major political blunder and would inevitably lead to repercussions later on. Still, knowing this did not give General Onetz any real choice. The bureaucrats at home were holding him back, and without a powerful supporter, how could he continue fighting the war? He was, after all, fighting to atone for past failures. If he won, that would be his redemption. But if he lost, the military tribunal would certainly await him. General Onetz’s position in the homeland was not secure. Marshal Ivanov, who had once promoted him, was already dead, and there was no one left among the upper ranks to speak on his behalf. If he were brought before a military court, his fate would be sealed. For Onetz personally, drawing closer to the Joint Command was clearly the safer choice. With the Russian Empire’s standing within the alliance and by taking the right political stance this time, he could at least secure a position as Deputy Commander of the Coalition Forces. With that layer of protection, he would become the highest-ranking Russian officer within the Joint Command. As long as the Russian government wanted to maintain its voice within the alliance, it would have no choice but to tolerate him. As for future retribution, the most that would happen would be him getting sidelined when he returned home. Nothing more. Otherwise, it would only mean the Russian government was slapping its own face. … While the sting from the front line had yet to reach St. Petersburg, Nicholas II remained unaware of the developments. At the moment, he was preoccupied with sorting out internal issues. In truth, the sudden intensification of political infighting, with the “Tsar’s distrust” serving merely as the spark, had deeper roots. The real cause lay in “reform.” Since the late nineteenth century, the Russian industrial system had gradually improved, but the gap between rich and poor had widened further, and internal tensions had grown. After the European economic crisis broke out, Russia’s agricultural exports suffered devastating losses, leading to massive waves of bankrupt farmers. Social contradictions became sharply aggravated. Faced with this, in his later years, Alexander III began pushing internal reforms from the standpoint of preserving his rule. Unfortunately, before any results could emerge, Alexander III met his maker. The newly crowned Nicholas II was forced to inherit and carry on the burden of reform. No reform could proceed without hurting someone’s interests, and Nicholas II’s reforms were no exception. In a sense, the political schemes Nicholas II had recently fallen victim to were one of the side effects of those very reforms. … Setting down the document in his hand, Nicholas II frowned and asked with irritation, “Are those people from the Zemstvo still not satisfied?” After Nicholas II ascended the throne, the liberals within the county and provincial branches of the bureau sought greater autonomy, hoping to ease the tension between the Tsarist system and the people. Obviously, “easing tensions” was just an excuse. Their true goal was to gain greater political autonomy. Prime Minister Sergei Witte replied, “Yes, Your Majesty. The representatives of the Zemstvo insist on demanding full self-government, including parliament, elections, and legislation.” Before Witte could finish, Nicholas II snapped impatiently, “The people from the Zemstvo are getting delusional again. They want to take part in state administration? Why don’t they go ask God to let them manage heaven while they’re at it? I want everyone to understand that the Tsarist autocracy is not to be shaken, just as my unforgettable father made clear. Even if we are to learn from Europe’s advanced systems, studying Austria is more than enough. There is no need to keep daydreaming about other nonsense. They want administrative power and freedom? Why don’t they open their eyes and look at what has become of free France?” With the real-world example in front of him, Nicholas II’s rejection of the autonomy movement grew even firmer. No matter how much the liberals tried to shift blame, before its defeat, France had indeed been the freest nation in Europe. The people participated actively in politics, and public opinion often swayed government decisions. Yet it was precisely that freedom that drove France to aim its war chariot at Central Europe, ultimately triggering the Continental War and burying the once-proud French Empire. In contrast, it was the relatively conservative Austria that emerged victorious, establishing the Holy Roman Empire. Of course, Nicholas II would never agree to emulate the Holy Roman Empire, since Austria and the Holy Roman Empire were two entirely different concepts. While the Holy Roman Empire was also relatively conservative, its member states, autonomous cities, and provinces all possessed full self-governing powers. What the Russian autonomy representatives were asking for was essentially a copy of the Holy Roman model, only without the monarch. But the Holy Roman Empire’s member states were all of the same ethnic stock, sharing the same language, history, and political culture, with nearly a thousand years of tradition. They had enough internal cohesion to make it work. Russia, on the other hand, was different. Ethnic Russians made up barely forty percent of the population, and many minority groups, having suffered brutal oppression, felt no loyalty to the empire at all. Unlimited autonomy under those conditions would only lead to fragmentation. If the central government ever weakened, the country would immediately fall apart. From Nicholas I to Alexander II and Alexander III, none had ever agreed to such conditions of autonomy. Nicholas II, naturally, would not be the first to do so. As for persuasion, there was none. Some in the room might have their grievances against the Tsar, but none of them doubted their loyalty to the empire itself. … Foreign Minister Mikhailovich stepped forward and shared a piece of his mind, “Your Majesty, the United States of America has sent a diplomatic note expressing hope to strengthen economic cooperation with us. The Americans propose building a railway from Central Asia to the Far East to promote trade and commerce between our two nations.”
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