Alexei made his way toward the palace garden, dressed in semi-formal attire for the occasion. Even so, the clothes felt stiff and uncomfortable against his skin. He would have much preferred his usual, comfortable outfits, if only his mother would allow it.
No matter, he thought. As long as I can find an excuse to leave early.
It didn't take long for him to arrive. Guided by Anya, he went straight to his mother, who was surrounded by noble ladies engaged in light conversation and polite gossip.
"Good afternoon, Mother," he said, offering a respectful nod. After a brief pause, he turned to the assembled ladies and added, "Good afternoon, ladies."
Then he looked back to his mother, not bothering to respond to their smiles or polite return greetings.
She gave him a brief, scrutinizing glance, her eyes narrowing slightly as she inspected his attire for any imperfections. Once satisfied, she gave a subtle nod and began introducing him to the ladies gathered around her. Alexei quietly committed every one of them to memory, especially the Montenegrin princesses. They were quite popular at court, or so he had heard from the maids' whispers.
After the introductions, his mother instructed Alexei to join the other children on the garden lawn. The area had clearly been prepared for the occasion, with entertainers performing nearby and a wide assortment of toys scattered across the grass for the children's amusement.
He made his way to a quiet corner and observed the activities around him. Some children were playing Gorodki, while others were engaged in card games. The entertainers performed magic tricks to the delight of the crowd. A few children, too proud of their aristocratic upbringing, chose instead to draw or practice their letters.
Meanwhile, as Alexei stood watching the entertainers from his quiet corner of the garden, four children, Sergei, Elena, Marina, and Roman, huddled together behind a neatly trimmed hedge, whispering nervously.
Marina spoke anxiously. "We've been standing here for ages. Someone has to go first."
Sergei, the eldest among them, replied, "You do it, Marina. You're always talking."
Marina nearly shouted, "Not to a Tsarevich!"
After a moment of thought, Elena suggested, "Maybe we should all go together?"
"Fine," Sergei said with a sigh. "We'll go together. I'll do the talking."
Roman, clearly too young to follow everything, simply listened quietly to his sister Marina and their cousins.
They all nodded in agreement, formed a shaky line, and slowly made their way toward Alexei.
Alexei had already noticed them from the corner of his eye but remained still, pretending to be focused on a juggler tossing wooden pins into the air.
As the group approached, Sergei stepped forward and gave a slight bow.
"Hello, Your Highness," he said.
Alexei turned to look at them, his expression unreadable. He let the silence stretch, and the children shifted nervously under his gaze.
After a brief pause, Alexei finally replied, "Hi."
The awkward silence returned, until Elena stepped forward with a sudden burst of courage.
"Would you like to play with us? We're about to start a game of Durak," she said brightly.
Alexei glanced across the lawn toward his mother, who was watching him intently. Beside her, the Montenegrin princesses smiled encouragingly.
Ah, he thought. These must be their children.
"All right," Alexei agreed. He might as well play with them than receive an earful from his mother later.
The children broke into relieved smiles, exchanging quick glances of triumph, proud to have completed their small diplomatic mission.
They made their way to another corner of the garden, where a table and a deck of cards were already set up. After taking their seats, they began introducing themselves properly, Alexei included.
But there was one problem.
"I don't know how to play," Alexei admitted to his newfound playmates. He had never played the game before, this was, after all, his first real interaction with other children, aside from his sisters.
"Don't worry, we'll teach you," Sergei said encouragingly.
Elena and Marina chimed in as well, assuring him that it was very easy.
Roman, meanwhile, remained quiet, watching from his seat with a shy expression.
This was the first time Alexei interacted with other noble children. In the past, he would simply sit quietly, absorbed in a book, ignoring everyone around him. Even on his birthdays, he would do the same. Now that he thought about it, isolating himself might have drawn even more attention. People at court might call him strange or use other unkind words to describe him. Gossip and whispers would inevitably follow.
But there was nothing he could do about that. It was simply who he was. He couldn't force himself to enjoy things he didn't want to do.
Still, it seemed he needed to endure what he disliked, at least just this once.
He looked at the children around him and thought, They'll do. He might as well befriend them, at least on the surface. They would make a good cover. Besides, it was obvious they had been encouraged, if not outright instructed, to approach him as well. He might as well use that to his advantage.
And who knew? Perhaps they could even become real friends.
With that decided, he began interacting with them more, asking questions about the game and about the other children present. Before long, they forgot the "mission" their parents had given them and simply started playing, as children naturally did.
It didn't take long for them to grow bored and switch to another game. Alexei followed along, and when he admitted once again that he didn't know how to play, they patiently taught him. Soon enough, they were all laughing and enjoying themselves, completely losing track of time.
Not Alexei, of course.
While he did enjoy the games, he remained aware of his surroundings. He noticed his mother watching from a distance, her expression clearly pleased as she glanced in their direction. The Montenegrin princesses also seemed delighted that their children had befriended him, while several other noble ladies looked faintly regretful, no doubt wishing they had urged their own children to do the same.
"It looks like I made the right decision," he mused.
When he felt that he had played enough with his new friends, Alexei excused himself, telling them that he needed to return to his mother. They were reluctant to see him go at first, but eventually agreed.
He had only just started walking back when his sister came running toward him, clearly delighted to see her favorite, and only brother. He embraced her briefly before gently leading her back to their mother.
"Mother, I'm hungry," he said, rubbing his stomach to emphasize his complaint.
"Oh my, come along, my son. There's plenty of food here," his mother replied, guiding him toward the table and instructing Anya to attend to him.
As he sat waiting for Anya to bring his food, several noble ladies attempted to strike up conversations with him. He responded with polite smiles and the occasional childish laugh, imitating the behavior expected of a boy his age.
It didn't take long for the food to arrive, and he began eating. As he did, he listened carefully to the surrounding conversation, secretly, of course.
After finishing his meal, he waited a moment before standing and walking back to his mother. Leaning close to her ear, he whispered softly, "I've soiled myself, Mother."
His mother startled for an instant, then quickly recovered and called for Anya to take Alexei back to his room and see that he was cleaned up..
And just like that, he was finally free.
Once in the room, he insisted on cleaning up by himself, much to Anya's amusement. Not that it was the first time. Still, she waited patiently outside the washroom for him to finish.
When he emerged, now dressed in more comfortable clothes, he said, "Anya, I'm tired. I don't want to go back."
"Your Highness, your mother will be angry if you don't return to the party," she replied, clearly worried. She didn't want to be scolded either, bringing Alexei back to the party was her responsibility.
"Tell Mother that I'm going to sleep for a while to rest. I'm sure it'll be fine." Alexei had no desire to return; there were simply too many people.
"But, Your Highness, you just took a nap this morning," Anya protested.
She just doesn't get it, does she? Alexei thought for a moment.
"Then tell Mother I might've eaten something bad. Say my stomach is acting up again, and I don't want to risk embarrassing myself in front of everyone. She'll understand."
Anya hesitated, but eventually nodded. "All right. But you must stay in your room until I return."
"Don't worry, Anya. I'm just going to take another nap," Alexei assured her.
She studied him for a moment, then sighed and quietly left the room.
Finally, he had a moment to himself. Oh, right… I still have to meet with my tutors and attendants after the party, he thought with a sigh, before lying down to rest.
—----
It didn't take long before the time came for him to meet his new tutors and attendants. He made his way to where they were gathered and found his mother there, clearly displeased that he hadn't returned to the party, though she kept her frustration to herself.
He glanced around the room at the assembled group. He didn't recognize all of them, so he waited patiently for his mother to make the introductions.
After taking a moment to compose herself, his mother stood up and began.
"Alexei, these are the gentlemen who will be part of your attendants from this day forward. They are here to guide you, serve you, and ensure your well-being."
She gestured to a tall, broad-shouldered man in a naval uniform, his bearing still that of a disciplined sailor. "This is Klimenty Grigorievich Nagorny. He will be your personal guard and will accompany you wherever necessary."
Nagorny bowed respectfully, his expression solemn. Alexei simply nodded in return.
Next, she motioned to a middle-aged man with sharp features and observant eyes.
"This is Ivan Dmitrievich Sednev. He will serve as your personal attendant, alongside Anya."
Sednev offered a polite smile and a short bow. Alexei nodded again.
"Now, to your tutors."
She gestured to a serious-looking man in spectacles, his suit crisp and his hands clasped behind his back. "This is Mr. Breshko-Breshkovsky. He will be your mathematics tutor. I trust you'll give him your full attention."
Mr. Breshko-Breshkovsky gave a curt nod. "I look forward to working with you, Your Highness."
"And this," she continued, motioning to a slightly older gentleman with thoughtful eyes and a scholarly air, "is Pyotr Vasilievich Petrov, who will be teaching you Russian language and literature."
Petrov smiled gently. "It will be a privilege to teach you, Your Imperial Highness."
Alexei inclined his head slightly, maintaining a composed posture. Despite the formal introductions, he studied each man carefully, already considering how best to deal with them, work with them, or avoid them if necessary. One thing was certain, life would no longer be as quiet as it had been.
"Thank you, Mother," Alexei said softly.
"Now go on. I still have matters to attend to. Your lessons will begin tomorrow," she replied, already making her way toward the door. She had likely given them their instructions beforehand.
Once she was out of sight, Alexei turned to face his new companions and gave a polite nod.
"Hello, everyone. I'm Alexei. Please take care of me."
They smiled at that, grateful to have a polite Tsarevich to attend to.
—--
Days passed, and winter arrived. Life became slow and monotonous. Alexei spent his mornings and afternoons with his tutors, following a rigid routine. Wherever he went, Nagorny and Sednev accompanied him. Thankfully, they did not keep watch over him while he slept, as that would have hindered his nightly escapades into the city.
Alexei now went out only once a week due to the winter. During those trips, he checked on their progress and brought food. He worried that their small hut might be ransacked, especially with so many in the slums desperate for shelter to survive the cold.
That was why, during his last visit, he had instructed them to run and hide if anything happened, and to wait for his return to deal with any intruders.
He didn't mind getting rid of a few pests, if it came to that.
It felt like a lifetime ago since he had last killed someone. Back then, taking a life had become second nature, an instinct honed not out of cruelty, but survival. He had lived in a world where hesitation meant death, where trust was a luxury he couldn't afford, and mercy was often a fatal mistake. Each kill had carved something out of him, piece by piece, until there was little left but purpose and caution.
Now, in the stillness of palace life, those memories felt like distant echoes, unreal and weightless. Yet the instinct remained. He didn't regret what he had done. Regret was a privilege for men who hadn't been forced to fight for every breath in their life.
—----
February 1901
Anna was cleaning their hut. She knew that their benefactor, or whoever he truly was, could arrive at any moment to check on their progress once more. She wanted to present their modest home as clean and orderly as possible, no matter how weathered or worn it looked.
The past few months still felt like a dream. Simply having food to eat each day was something she had never thought she would experience again. The gnawing hunger that once haunted her and her siblings had been replaced by warm meals and the fragile comfort of knowing they were safe, if only for now.
She didn't know why he helped them. Her thoughts drifted back to the time they first met. Back then, they hadn't known what to do at all. Their parents had just died, and they had no aunts or uncles to turn to for help. It felt as though her life had ended right there. She had three younger siblings to feed, and after their parents passed, they had only managed to gather enough food to last about fifteen days. It didn't take long for that to run out.
She led her siblings to the waste dump, where they scavenged for anything that could be traded for a few coins, rags, bones, glass, and bits of metal. They managed to survive for a month by selling scraps. For a brief moment, they thought they could keep going like that, that maybe things were getting better.
But trouble came quickly. A group of older boys warned them to stop scavenging in the area, claiming it as their territory. She refused. She knew how important that work was for her siblings' survival. So they returned anyway. That was when they were spotted, and it was the first time they were beaten.
Still, they endured. They tried other ways to earn money for food, but no one would hire them. They begged on the streets, but no one gave them anything. They were starving. She didn't know what else to do.
Desperate, they went back to the dump once more, hoping to find enough scraps to get through another day. This time, they were caught again, and the beating was worse.
At that moment, she thought it might be better to die.
And then, he appeared.
He walked towards them.
He asked if they wanted food, just after they had been beaten. He stood in front of them as if he weren't a child like them. From his height, she guessed he was at least eight years old. Yet he carried himself like something far taller, as though they would be safe if they clung to him.
She hesitated at first. But her siblings said yes right away, as if it wasn't strange for someone to offer help without asking for anything in return. What made it even more unsettling was that he wore a mask that completely hid his face.
But hunger won out.
So they accepted.
She asked him what he wanted in return, but he simply said that he needed people, and that they would be it.
At first, she remained cautious, keeping her siblings at a distance from him. Only she interacted with him directly. If he turned out to be dangerous, she was prepared to sacrifice herself to protect them.
But the food kept coming. Day after day, more than they had ever dared to hope for. Slowly, her suspicion gave way to gratitude.
Then he began teaching them letters and numbers, something they had never even dreamed of learning. When she asked why he was teaching them, he answered bluntly, "You'd be useless if you don't know how to read and write."
She wanted to get angry. The word useless stung. But the life he had given them weighed more heavily than the insult, so she said nothing.
He didn't stop at letters and numbers. He also taught them how to defend themselves. But he always emphasized one thing, If you can run, then run.
She didn't understand why he was teaching them that, but she figured that having more skills was better than having none.
What puzzled her most was how someone who looked like a child could know so much. She wanted to ask, but ultimately decided against it. They were already receiving so much from him, and prying into his secrets might only anger their strange benefactor.
It didn't take long before he asked something of them in return. He wanted them to listen to the gossip and news circulating around the slums. It wasn't much, but it was something. Finally, they could do something for him. So she and her siblings began paying attention to every scrap of chatter, whether small or insignificant, and reported everything to him whenever he visited.
He also taught them how to listen carefully, and how to ask questions that didn't sound intrusive but, if answered, could lead them closer to the information he wanted.
Yet again, another skill their benefactor possessed. She couldn't help but wonder how he knew so much. Maybe he's a witch, she thought, but quickly dismissed the idea. Judging by how much he had helped them, she believed he was a good person.
She was pulled from her thoughts by a sudden knock on the door.
"I'll take it!" Petrov, her younger brother, called out excitedly as he rushed toward the door before she could even respond. He didn't even check the peephole, unlocking the door immediately.
"Petrov, wait!" she called, her voice sharp with alarm, but it was already too late.
The door burst open with a loud crash. A heavy boot kicked it wide, sending the boy flying backward with a sickening thud. He slammed into the floor and cried out in pain, clutching his side.
"Petrov!" she screamed, her heart slamming in her chest as two unfamiliar men stepped over the threshold.
They were both middle-aged and scruffy, reeking of alcohol and smoke. The one in front had a crooked nose and sunken cheeks, while the other, a broader man, carried a rusted bat slung over his shoulder. Their eyes swept over the small room like predators sizing up helpless prey.
"Oh, only kids? We're lucky," the man in front sneered. "This'll be easy."
"Hey, brats," the one with the bat barked, waving the weapon in a wide arc. "This place belongs to us now. Get out, or we'll throw you out."
She barely heard him. All she could see was Petrov curled on the floor, crying softly, one arm trembling as he tried to push himself up.
Without thinking, she darted past the intruders and knelt beside her brother. "It's okay. I'm here," she whispered, quickly checking him for injuries. He was hurt, but not badly.
Her defiance caught the attention of the man with the bat.
"Oh? So you're not scared?" he jeered. "Looks like I'll have to make an example of you."
He raised the bat, his eyes flashing with cruel delight.
"Leave her alone!" came a cry, and in a blur, her twin brothers hurled themselves at him. They grabbed for the bat, trying to wrench it from his grip.
They were no match for a grown man. With one powerful motion, he tore the bat free and drove his fist into the stomach of one twin, then slammed another into the face of the other. The boys crumpled to the floor, gasping and dazed.
"Haha! What courageous little rats," the man laughed. "Let's have some fun with them, Orlov."
The other man grinned and kicked one of the boys in the ribs. "Haven't had a good beating in days. This'll be fun."
"No, stop! Please!" she shouted, stepping in front of her brothers. Her voice cracked with desperation, tears brimming in her eyes.
But they didn't care.
The man with the bat raised it again, this time aiming for her. She braced herself, her mind racing with a single thought.
This is it. We're going to die here.
There was no way out. The door was blocked, the windows too small to escape through. She had no weapon, no strength to fight back. All she could do was shield her siblings with her body and hope the pain wouldn't last long.
Then everything changed.
A shadow fell across the doorway.
The first man suddenly stiffened. His mouth fell open, eyes wide with confusion as his hand flew to the back of his neck. A knife protruded from the base of his skull.
Before he could fall, Orlov turned in shock, but another blade buried itself cleanly in his neck. He stumbled forward, collapsed beside his friend, and didn't move again.
Blood pooled beneath their bodies, spreading across the old wooden floor.
She gasped, frozen in place, and looked toward the doorway.
There he was.
Their benefactor.
He stood calmly, as if the violence he had just committed were nothing more than a routine. The fading light from outside glinted off the edges of his throwing knives as he stepped inside. His face was hidden behind the mask, but the fury in his eyes was unmistakable.
No words were spoken.
She stared at him, overwhelmed by shock, by relief, by horror. Her siblings whimpered behind her, and she heard Petrov trying to sit up, crying softly.
Alexei approached, retrieved his knives from the intruders, and wiped the blood from the blades with a piece of cloth before slipping them back into his coat. Then he knelt beside the injured boys. He didn't speak, only checked their pulses with quick, methodical movements. His hands were precise, practiced, and surprisingly gentle.
"Your brothers are okay," he said at last, his voice low and even.
She blinked rapidly, tears finally spilling down her cheeks. She couldn't move. She couldn't speak.
He looked at her. "I told you to keep the door locked."
"I… I'm sorry," she whispered, barely audible.
He didn't scold her. He stood, glanced at the bodies, then turned toward the door. "I'll take care of this. Stay inside and watch over them."
She watched in silence as he dragged one body out, then returned a few minutes later for the other.
In her daze, she had forgotten that her brothers were still injured. A soft whimper snapped her back to reality. Guilt washed over her as she rushed to tend to them, silently scolding herself.
Alexei returned after an hour. She said nothing, continuing to scrub the blood from the floor before it could stain the wood.
"I dumped them in an abandoned warehouse nearby," he said, sitting on one of the stools. "We're lucky. Either your neighbors didn't hear anything, or they didn't care. Doesn't matter. You're safe for now. Just make sure you clean the blood thoroughly. If anyone checks, no one will suspect you."
He paused, scanning the room.
"So, how are your brothers?"
"They're okay," she replied quietly. "They fell asleep after I cleaned their wounds."
"Why didn't you run?" he asked.
"We couldn't. They blocked the door, and everything happened too fast. I couldn't stop Petrov from opening it," she said, scrubbing harder. "I'm sorry."
"It's not your fault," he said after a moment. Whether he meant it or was simply easing her guilt, she couldn't tell.
Then his tone hardened. "You need to move this spring. I'll handle the money. Find a place bigger than this, one that can be secured tightly from the inside. That's the minimum."
Anna opened her mouth to protest, to tell him he didn't need to go this far, but nothing came out. The words died in her throat. Deep down, she knew the truth, they had no choice but to rely on him now. The guilt weighed heavy on her chest, and after everything she had witnessed tonight, she felt too numb to push back. All she could do was follow his lead.
She glanced at her sleeping brothers. Please, she thought, let them be okay after seeing those bodies.
"…Okay," she murmured.
He nodded slightly. A faint smile tugged at the corners of his mouth beneath the mask.
"You adapted quickly, Anna," he said. "You didn't panic. You didn't even throw up."
She managed a tired smile, unsure whether it was praise or something else, but she appreciated it more than she expected.
He turned toward the door, inspecting the broken frame. "Once you're done cleaning, get some rest. I'll fix this."
"Mmm," she replied softly, grateful he was staying a little longer.
While she scrubbed the last stains away, he repaired the door and locks with quiet efficiency.
When he finished, he brushed dust from his sleeves. "I'll be gone for over a month this spring. When I return, we'll buy the house, assuming you find one that meets the requirements."
"I'll look around," she said, stifling a yawn.
He studied her briefly, then stepped back. "Looks like there won't be any lessons tonight. Goodbye then."
The door closed behind him, and he disappeared into the night.
Anna stood there for a moment before moving quietly through the dim room, careful not to wake her brothers. Her body ached, not just from exhaustion, but from the weight of everything that had happened.
When she finally lay down on her thin mattress, the room was still. She listened to the soft breathing of her siblings and stared at the ceiling.
"Please," she prayed silently. "Just let everything be better tomorrow."
With that final thought, she closed her eyes and fell asleep.