September 15, 1906
Alexei had been thinking for a while about how to insert himself into his father's government at such a young age. He'd read plenty of novels in his first life where protagonists or reincarnators did it effortlessly, offering advice, swaying political affairs, and having their father or King nod along almost immediately. If he could pull off something similar, his life would be much easier, and he wouldn't have to worry as much about the war and the revolutions that were destined to come. Alas it was not as easy as it seemed to be. People had their own minds and goals, they would not appreciate it if you so much encroached on their power. Instead of seeing your advice and help in a positive view, they would see it as bubbling nonsense especially that he had a different view of how the world works. He came from the twenty-first century after all, who reincarnated in the cultivation world, died, and ended up in the twentieth century. Nicholas II might be a good father but Alexei didn't want to risk it, especially that his father held onto autocracy as if his life depended on it. After weighing the pros and cons, he settled on the most viable approach available to him right now.
He had arranged a meeting with all his tutors for today. He woke up early to practice his speech, check on the pups and to cultivate. The pups had survived the second assimilation of his blood essence and were now growing stronger by the day, though they still slept most of the time. He couldn't train them yet, but he felt confident it would be easy once he formed a connection and bonded with them properly.
As the sun rose over the horizon, Alexei heard a knock on his door. He was seated in a lotus position, cultivating. He'd been cultivating whenever he could during his spare moments, power was the only true guarantee he had in this world, and he wouldn't neglect it for anything. Unfortunately, he still couldn't replace sleep with cultivation, so he had to make do whenever he was awake or had the time. The middle stages of the first realm of body cultivation were still years away for him.
He rose from his position just as Sednev entered.
"Good morning, Your Highness. You have a meeting scheduled with your tutors one hour from now. We need to get you ready."
Alexei nodded silently and went to wash up. Sednev stepped aside to let Anya in. She checked on the pups first, and seeing they were still asleep, she continued with her usual tasks, opening the curtains and tidying the tsarevich's bed.
Once Alexei finished washing up and dressing, he sat down to eat the breakfast already prepared for him. By the time he cleared the last of the food on the table, only ten minutes remained before the meeting.
Not wanting to be late, he made his way toward the study, together with Sednev and Nagorny where the meeting would be held. As he stepped inside, he was surprised that every one of his tutors was already present, seated and waiting for him. He quickly composed himself and said "Good morning everyone." As he took his seat.
Alexei didn't immediately state the reason he had called the meeting. They are quite tense at the moment, and he could feel it. Instead, he eased them into casual conversation, asking how each of them had been, how their work was progressing, and whether they were keeping themselves in good health.
They were quite baffled that their tsarevich had suddenly taken such a personal interest in their well being. They were quite used to him being focused, direct to the point and disliked unnecessary activities to their lessons. Nevertheless, they answered every question truthfully and as the conversation went on, their tense shoulders relaxed considerably.
—--
Pyotr Vasilievich Petrov had been on cloud nine these past few months. He was the one teaching the tsarevich Russian and literature so he got most of the praises from nobles, aristocrats and bureaucrats alike.
The tsarevich's sudden and baffling talent for literature really caught him off guard. Because the truth is, he barely did anything after all these years. Most of his lessons with the tsarevich consisted of him reading aloud while the boy just sat there listening. He didn't even need to teach a lesson a second time and directly proceeded to another topic after he was finished. It was really just about him doing the talking while the tsarevich just listens.
He hadn't even realized the boy possessed such talent. How he regretted missing it. He had assumed the tsarevich was like most young nobles, taking lessons half-heartedly and going through the motions. Oh, how wrong he had been with his judgement.
But who knows, all that talking, all that boring lessons must've really helped the tsarevich with his writings. Thus, credit where the credit is due.
Ever since the children's books and novels were published under the tsarevich's pen name, Pyotr had been flooded with congratulations. The high society had been approaching him nonstop, asking if he could tutor their own children in Russian and literature. He'd had to come up with excuse after excuse just to decline their offers. He was teaching all the Imperial children already so he doesn't have the time to focus on the others.
Still, he accepted all their praises shamelessly. He was the teacher after all, and he was the one who had suffered the most during those lessons. The dullness, the monotony, and the sheer vapidity of each session had finally paid off.
When the tsarevich called for a meeting, Pyotr initially assumed it was meant for him alone. But the moment he stepped into the study, he found the mathematics tutor, the French tutor, and the rest of the tsarevich's instructors already gathered. The tension in the room was thick enough for his taste, and when Pyotr entered, it somehow tightened even further.
There was always a hint of politics and rivalry among them. None of them were strangers to competition, in fact, they leaned into it whenever the opportunity presented itself. Their hostile stares greeted him the moment he walked in, but Pyotr merely lifted his chin and took his seat as if nothing was amiss.
When the tsarevich finally arrived, however, the atmosphere shifted again. To their collective surprise, the tsarevich was unusually chatty, almost warm, and genuinely concerned about their health and well-being. But they hadn't survived years of court life without recognizing the signs. Their tsarevich wanted something from them and they could feel it.
Still, they answered every question politely and waited for him to reveal the real purpose of this meeting.
It didn't take long. The tsarevich eventually straightened in his chair, and the soft murmur of conversation around the table died instantly. Alexei always had that effect on him, or on all of them, as Pyotr noticed the others fall silent at the exact same moment that he did.
And when the tsarevich finally began to speak, Pyotr leaned in, listening carefully.
"The reason I called you all here is because I need recommendation letters from each of you. I feel it's time for me to put everything I've learned into practice. Monsieur Gillard says I'm learning French faster than most and only need to use it more in conversation. Mr. Breshkovsky often tells me mathematics is something I'll encounter in daily life. It's supposed to be a secret but I think everyone of you has already heard that I'm writing. Correct?"
Everyone nodded, including Pyotr himself.
"Well, you guys didn't know this but it was because of Mr. Pyotr himself that got me to start writing. I didn't even know that I was good at it until I tried. So, what do you guys think? Don't worry, you only need to address your letters to my father and I'll do the rest. Any questions?"
As soon as the tsarevich finished, Pyotr straightened in his seat. His colleagues were already sneaking glances at him, clearly envious. Still, he kept his composure first and didn't let himself get swept up by the moment. He spoke first.
"I hope you do well in your learning experience, your highness. I'll write the recommendation letter right now."
An attendant stepped forward immediately, offering him the prepared paper and a fountain pen. As Pyotr began writing, the others rushed to express their own well-wishes and promises, none of them willing to be the last to speak up.
When the letters were completed and collected, the tsarevich thanked them all warmly and left the room.
Only then did Pyotr allow himself to relax. He arched a brow at his colleagues, half triumphant and half smug, as a few stepped over to congratulate him on a "job well done."
—--
Alexei had worn a bright, polite smile the entire time he was with his tutors, but the moment he stepped out of the room, it evaporated. This was only the first step in the plan he'd committed himself to, and he was already drained from the pleasantries and forced socializing. He rubbed his cheek, realizing it felt stiff from all the smiling.
This better be worth it, he muttered inwardly.
"Are you all right, Your Highness?" Sednev asked, noticing the frown and the way Alexei was still pressing at his cheek.
"I'm fine. Did you check my father's schedule for today? Is he available?" Alexei dropped his hand and asked.
"Yes. He should be in his office right now, as long as no emergency has come up," Sednev replied.
"Good. Let's go. I want to finish all of this today." Alexei said, already moving forward.
Sednev and Nagorny immediately fell into step behind him.
While walking towards his father's office. Alexei reviewed his prepared act on why he wanted to do this and that. Backed by the recommendation letters from his tutors. He felt confident enough that the approval was practically guaranteed. The only thing he had no confidence in was where he was going to be put under. There are many ministries in his father's government and he was not sure if his father would agree to his preferred department.
He put that thought aside as he saw the door to his father's office looming in the distance. The reasons and purpose were already prepared. He just needs to deliver it as smoothly as possible.
Sednev stepped forward to ask the guards if the tsar was inside, but before he could speak, the door swung open. The man who stepped out made Sednev bow slightly, and the others followed suit. Alexei simply nodded his head in acknowledgment.
"Good morning, Mr. Prime Minister," Alexei greeted.
This was the first time he saw the new prime minister up close. The prime minister still wore bandages and there was a subtle limp in his step. From what he heard, the new prime minister had just survived an assassination attempt on his life. Albeit at the cost of his daughter's life and now crippled son. He couldn't really comment on anything negative about this new prime minister as he just started on his new job. Instead, he quite admired the man's persistence on working despite what had happened to his family. If it had been him, he would've lost all reason to work and spend the rest of his life planning and executing revenge.
"Good morning to you too, Your Highness." Pyotr Stolypin bowed his head slightly in greeting.
The prime minister couldn't even muster a smile, and Alexei figured the man was still grieving.
He chose his words carefully before speaking. "I'm sorry for your loss, Mr. Prime Minister."
"Thank you, Your Highness," Pyotr replied, a pained smile tugging at his lips.
Alexei suspected he'd just reminded the man of those painful memories. So much for choosing the right words. He decided to end the conversation there.
"Then…" Alexei stepped aside, offering him passage.
The prime minister nodded and walked off.
Alexei watched him go until he disappeared, then exhaled. He needed to focus on his current task and push all distractions aside. He nodded to Sednev, who signaled the guard to announce him. All these protocols wasted far too much time for his taste. The guard returned shortly after and opened the door wide enough for them to enter.
Alexei took the documents in Sednev's hand and immediately stepped inside.
He hadn't even finished scanning the room when his father greeted him first.
"And what does my son want that he visits his father this early, hmm?" Nicholas said with a smile from behind his decorated desk.
"Would you believe me if I told you I missed you so much, Father?" Alexei replied, matching the smile as he walked straight to the desk and took the seat opposite him.
Nicholas chuckled. "I would believe many things, my boy. That, however, would be a stretch."
Alexei placed a hand over his heart in mock offense. "You wound me."
"You'll survive." Nicholas shrugged and leaned back slightly. He wondered what could have brought his son to his office this early. Judging from the papers Alexei carried, perhaps it was another story? He would've loved to read one of his son's new manuscripts, but Stolypin had already dumped enough work on his desk for the morning.
"Now then, what truly brings you here, son? Let me remind you that your father is very busy today. Just look at all these documents scattered on my desk." He sighed heavily.
"Don't worry, Father. This won't take too much of your time. Here." Alexei handed over the papers.
"Is this another one of your stories? Can I read it later?" Nicholas asked as he took the documents.
"Nope. Those are from my tutors. You should read them, Father." Alexei answered with a small, confident smile.
Nicholas raised an eyebrow and grumbled, "It feels like you're just giving me more work." Still, he opened the documents and began reading.
When he finished, he frowned. "What's this? These are all recommendation letters… for your hands-on learning?"
"That's what they said, Father. They think I'm too good for basic lessons now and that it's time I gain experience in the real world. So… what do you think?" Alexei shrugged as if he didn't care about it.
Nicholas studied his son quietly for a moment. He had always kept a close watch on Alexei's studies, and not just his studies. He paid attention to all of his son's extracurricular activities as well. He knew how skilled Alexei had become with rifles and revolvers, the strange daily exercises he insisted on doing, the reports from guards about the boy running laps around the palace, and how quickly he absorbed things in a single session, whether it was horseback riding or basic military drills.
All of this was telling of how brilliant Alexei is, far more than Nicholas had ever been at his age. And he couldn't help but feel proud about it. He often boasted about his son while out hunting with his friends, and the way their expressions subtly soured with envy never failed to improve his day.
But there was one thing his son lacked the most, and that is socializing. For all his abilities, Alexei struggled with people. Even though he had a few companions at court, it was nothing compared to the wide circle of friends Nicholas himself had in his youth. At times, it felt as though Alexei kept everyone at arm's length.
This recommendation from his tutors, however, this push toward practical experience, might be exactly what he needed. Exposure to real work could draw him out, help him build relationships, and prepare him for the future that awaited him.
Still, Nicholas couldn't decide this on his own. Not when it concerned their son. He would need his wife's consent before deciding. He himself was sixteen years old before his father pushed him towards duty. He wondered if his son could handle it. Maybe just observing the different ministries for now? Without actually doing any work? Yes, that could work. He just needs to convince his wife about it. He decided.
"So your tutors believe you're ready for practical experience…" he murmured, tapping the letters lightly against the desk. "And you believe that too?"
Alexei nodded innocently, "Yes, I'm quite bored with all the writing recently. I think I need a little space far from it for a while or else I might lose inspiration."
"You better not Alexei or your sisters will cry their eyes out because you won't have new stories for them anymore." Nicholas doubled down on his decision immediately. He can't let his son lose inspiration in writing. Especially when his son hadn't finished writing the chronicles of narnia. For him, that was the most outstanding book his son had written. Even though it was a children's fantasy literature, adults like him couldn't help but be drawn to the story. Especially his wife.
Alexei sighed. "I really hope so. I heard that some writers got their inspiration from working. Maybe I could do the same if given enough time?"
Nicholas slowly nodded. "That's true. That is true." Then he exhaled. "Well, your tutors do seem convinced. And I trust their judgment… mostly." A wry smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. "But before I give you any answer, your mother will want her say. So… we'll tell you our decision later."
"That's fair." Alexei barely managed to keep the frown from showing onto his face and managed to show only a polite nod.
"Then I won't bother you any longer, Father. I delivered what I came here to deliver, so I'll take my leave."
He stood up, smoothing the front of his clothes with ease. When he was about to turn around and left. His father stopped him.
"Wait, son. I heard you're planning to take out a loan for your expansion?"
"Yes. It's the only way to make more money in the future. I'm practically strapped right now." Alexei sighed, shaking his head. "I thought I could make millions with my writings, but it seems that won't happen anytime soon." This time, he wasn't acting, he was genuinely disappointed with the earnings he had earned.
Nicholas frowned at his son. "What are you talking about? We're rich. You don't have to do this for money."
"If I asked you to buy me two or three automobiles just like you did recently, would you do it without asking a single question?" Alexei smirked. Seeing his father casually purchase three automobiles had sparked an old ambition in him. He wanted to build his own brand someday. It had been a childhood dream in his first life and now he intended to fulfill it.
Who knows? Perhaps, someday, he could expand into military vehicles, trucks for logistics and maybe even tanks to storm the front line in the future wars. He didn't know how to build any of it himself, of course, but he knew he could find the people who did.
When he saw his father fall silent, unable to give a straight answer, Alexei chuckled. "See? The money I earned is for my own self indulgence father. I don't want to bother you about it every time I have something I like."
Nicholas speechlessly stared at his son. It was true that having a son so mature and capable at such a young age was something to be proud of. Yet at the same time, it was… unsettling. Alexei had a way of forming ideas that always caught him completely off guard. Just like now, building his own wealth purely for his personal indulgence? The thought almost made Nicholas laugh, yet he knew that his son might actually pull it off.
"You surprised me there, son." Nicholas rubbed his forehead and sighed. "I admire your desire to be financially independent, but let me remind you, you're still a child. When I was your age, I spent my days playing with my siblings and friends, not worrying about anything. I want you to experience that too. Because when the time comes, you'll regret everything you didn't do while you were still young. Look at my desk. I don't even know when I'll finish all of this."
Alexei glanced at the mountain of papers covering his father's desk, then nodded seriously. "Understood, Father."
Nicholas paused, thinking for a moment, then added, "About your plan to take out a loan for your business… you won't need to do that anymore. Do you know you've had an allotted allowance since the day you were born?"
Alexei blinked, stunned.
Nicholas continued, "You were allotted one hundred thousand rubles per year from birth. Adding it all together until now, you have a little over one million rubles, money you were meant to receive when you turn sixteen. I'll open the account for you now, so you can use it for your business. But I will be checking it regularly, and you may not withdraw anything from it without my consent. At least until you turn sixteen. Is that understood?"
Alexei broke into a wide smile, then walked around the desk and wrapped his arms around his father in a light, grateful hug. "Thank you, Father."
Nicholas returned the hug gently before letting go. "Remember, Alexei, this is a test. You promised me earlier that you'd turn the money I gave you before into millions. I'm still holding you to that promise."
"Of course, Father. You know how well my stories sell domestically. It won't be long before we expand overseas. By then, the millions I promised will be in the bag." Alexei laughed quietly. He had come only to deliver the recommendation letters and to talk his father into it. He hadn't expected an unexpected boon.
"That's good. Now go. I still have a mountain of documents to sign." Nicholas gave him a light pat on the back.
Alexei bowed his head. "Goodbye, Father. And don't forget the recommendation letters from the tutors. Please talk to Mother about it later."
"I know. Now go."
Alexei nodded once more and left. The door shut softly behind him.
Nicholas watched his son's figure disappear through the doorway, a mixture of pride and exasperation tugging at him.
"Too mature for his own good," he muttered under his breath, shaking his head with a helpless smile.
He straightened in his chair, picked up the nearest document, and forced his attention back to the affairs of the state.
—--
The moment Alexei reached his room. He plopped into one of his chairs and finally relaxed. His visit to his father was meant to deliver the recommendation letters from his tutors and plant the idea to his father's head. From there, he would slowly use every idea he could think of just to get to his desired outcome, the Okhrana. He couldn't appear desperate so he left after stating the reason for his visit.
He hadn't expected to gain something from it, however. Though the money would be closely monitored, the allowance was more than enough to fuel his business expansion without taking out a loan. That alone would help him in his money making endeavors. As he leaned back in his chair, Alexei allowed himself a small, satisfied smile.