Colorless King (3)
Overnight, I went from crown prince to absolute monarch. So what the hell can I actually do?
Weapons development, like everyone dreams about?
Sure, I could nudge a direction, but I’m not designing, building, or producing guns.
Maybe fund it when the budget’s flush later.
Economic growth, then? The empire needs cash fast.
The safest, most efficient way is to just brute-force agricultural output, but I don’t even know how fertilizer’s made.
Our empire’s land produces a third of Germany’s value.
Boost that, and it’d be huge, but it’s not a real fix.
What about becoming the Woodrow Wilson of administration, planting “efficient governance” in the empire?
Like I said, I haven’t even mastered the current system.
So what’s a guy with nothing but raw power supposed to do?
After these past few days, the answer’s simpler than I thought.
All I’ve got is power, and the whole empire’s staring at me.
More precisely, at the damn power in my hands.
That’s where my parliament plan kicked off.
A parliament’s just a tool to legitimize the emperor’s power.
It’ll be a shell compared to Britain’s or even Germany’s, but it’s still a massive reform.
Why? Because for decades, no one but the emperor’s been allowed to hold power here.
Plenty of power exists in the empire, but it’s been kept scarce as hell.
The nobles? They just scavenge the crumbs the emperor drops.
Why don’t they grab for more?
They don’t dare. For generations, my grandfather and father tamed them to settle for scraps, too scared to challenge the big prize.
The Romanovs don’t let nobles like the ones who executed Paul I anywhere near real power.
Still, this inefficient power structure’s nothing but a drag on the empire.
“Your Majesty, such sudden change is causing chaos. Shouldn’t you provide more detailed guidance?” Witte asked.
“Witte, sit down and listen. The last few days have been a wild ride,” I said.
The moment I announced the parliament, the empire’s three archbishops stormed in, waving doctrine and claiming their “sanctity.”
Nobles, stewing since the land reforms, hint they want me on their side.
Daily worker protests, farmers pissed about falling grain prices from currency reform, and serfs still stuck in feudal tenancy without a scrap of land.
Everyone’s moving, and that’s a damn good sign.
They’re confused, but they see this parliament as a new channel to push their agendas.
“How many people are in the empire, Witte?” I asked.
“…We haven’t fully tallied the population,” he admitted.
“120 million,” I said.
“How do you—” he started.
Two years from now, in ’97, the empire’s first census will peg it around there.
With 120 million under my control, of course everyone’s rushing me for a piece of that power.
“From now on, archbishops will have to yell at the parliament, not me. City workers want cheaper food and prices, but rural farmers will fight it. Local nobles will clash with urban ones, and you bureaucrats and judges will be too busy eyeing each other,” I said.
“Administrative and judicial bureaucrats already hate each other,” Witte noted.
“It’ll get worse. Reviving a dead parliament means reviving a dead judiciary, too,” I replied.
Originally, judicial administration was separate from government, but my grandfather and father clawed it back.
If that revives…
The nobles, bureaucrats, parliament, Duma—they’ll all hate it.
Witte’s face stayed a mask of worry, whether he was hiding his thoughts or fretting over the chaos, I couldn’t tell.
Why was I having this talk with Witte alone in my study?
“Witte, I’m giving you a privilege here,” I said.
“A privilege, Your Majesty?” he asked.
“If you ditch the nobles and Duma to focus on reform, you’ll get ousted eventually. But you know one thing, don’t you?” I said.
This reform’s purpose isn’t fully clear yet, so everyone’s tiptoeing, prepping for chaos.
But Witte’s already half in on my real intent.
The will I showed him once before.
“…War. You’re certain the Far East’s tinder hasn’t gone out,” Witte said.
“See why Father valued you?” I grinned.
A sharp vassal like him makes things so damn easy.
“Now, get going. I’ve got an industrial-academic class this afternoon,” I said.
“…I’ll take my leave,” Witte replied.
Let me say it again: I haven’t shown my political colors or picked a side.
Because I’m still just a clueless young guy.
Leaving his private talk with Nikolai, Witte felt he’d glimpsed the truth behind the emperor’s push for a parliament.
“Not the Church, nobles, farmers, or workers. None of them are His Majesty’s focus…” he muttered.
The parliament’s got liberals and intellectuals representing workers cheering, counting down to autumn.
Meanwhile, nobles, secure in their seats and knowing the Tsar’s word can override the parliament, see it as a new leash.
But to Nikolai, they’re all laughable.
Wearing a mask of “I’m just a naive guy who doesn’t know much,” the Tsar isn’t on anyone’s side.
And neither is Witte.
Leaving the palace, Witte recalled a talk from Nikolai’s crown prince days, when he was Railway Minister.
“You mentioned my predecessor’s fall. A reformer without the Tsar’s protection gets torn apart by everyone.”
The gold standard, set to roll out next year or two at the latest, faces empire-wide pushback.
Fear of foreign capital, obsession with gold hoarding, dread of an unknown future.
Reasons vary, but everyone’s shouting against it for their own cause.
Only Nikolai, citing the late Tsar’s approval, pretends to look the other way while backing it.
Same with the massive railway budgets—enabled by his “negligence” and support.
So, the deeper question.
What the hell’s he doing this for?
Just war? Some potential Far East conflict?
To distract everyone with a parliament so he can control the Far East?
That’s too much effort for no reason.
Everyone in the government knows Nikolai’s pushed Far East development since his crown prince days, and no one dares openly oppose an emperor who went there himself and scored big.
He even used “privilege” to say Witte’s closer to his true intent than anyone.
Yet even I don’t get it…
At this point, it’s not that Nikolai’s politics are undefined—he’s deliberately hiding them.
Why? Why’s the Tsar concealing his vision?
No matter how Witte retraced his steps, he hit a wall.
“Opposition. It’s because of opposition. But not rebellion, surely…” he mused.
Unable to find clear answers, Witte returned to the Finance Ministry.
“Minister, you’re back? Duke Georgy Lvov visited while you were out. Likely about a party invitation—” his aide, Kokovtsov, began.
“Phew, hold off, Kokovtsov. I can’t think about that now,” Witte sighed.
“Heavy sigh, sir. Something troubling you?” Kokovtsov asked cautiously.
A State Council deputy and Economic Committee chair, Kokovtsov’s more than an aide—he’s a reform partner.
“I’m no expert, but can’t we think it through together?” Kokovtsov offered.
Witte hesitated, then spoke slowly.
“…Here’s the thing.”
Without revealing the private talk, Witte earnestly sought Kokovtsov’s insight.
The chaos brewing in the new parliament and emerging parties.
The young emperor’s unknown intentions and politics.
His obsession with the Far East.
“I can’t figure it out. He admits his shortcomings to us bureaucrats yet rushes this parliament reform,” Witte said.
“Forming a new parliament in six months… it’s no small feat,” Kokovtsov agreed.
Is he checking the nobles who’ve long dominated local zemstvos? But a single election won’t topple them.
“A Duma for workers? That doesn’t fit either,” Witte said.
“Major cities like Moscow distribute votes by tax paid, so workers won’t easily get their way,” Kokovtsov noted.
Exactly. This parliament will be a stalemate where no one wins.
Sure, no one’s dumb enough to rage at the Tsar when it doesn’t go their way.
Their battlefield’s the parliament, not his study. They’ll fight for votes and power inside it.
Despite the empire’s stagnation, reforms aren’t new.
Every Tsar tries a grand reform at least once.
Peter the Great’s autocratic reforms.
Catherine the Great’s enlightened reforms.
Nicholas I’s militaristic reforms.
Alexander II’s class reforms.
Tsars shaking up the empire isn’t rare, but this is different.
“You don’t get it. He watches the chaos like it’s someone else’s problem,” Witte said.
The Tsar doesn’t pick enemies or allies.
He just enjoys the mess he’s made.
“It’s not secretive mysticism either. He leaves room to dive in,” Witte added.
Take the Poland Worbits archbishop case.
The Tsar hasn’t imposed judicial punishment yet.
But newspapers, once just imperial propaganda, started digging into the archbishops’ scandal.
Ironically, this forced the Holy Synod to send its prosecutor to Worbits.
Who do the archbishops and Church blame?
The Tsar, protector of the Church, busy catching up on late heir training? Or the press daring to criticize them?
Somehow, Nikolai comes out spotless, which feels unnatural to Witte.
“He’s nothing like the late Tsar. In his era, newspapers criticizing the Church would’ve been unthinkable,” Kokovtsov said.
“He’s definitely a reformist monarch. That I’m sure of,” Witte replied.
“Hmm…”
A reformist monarch unstained by dirt or blood? No Tsar in history fits that.
“Minister, I think the Far East best shows His Majesty’s intent. He went there himself, after all,” Kokovtsov said.
“Sure, but what’s special about it? It’s just a land of runaway farmers,” Witte scoffed.
“Nothing there means it’s perfect to start something. Word is, laborers are outpacing farmers there now. Unlike the empire, where nine-tenths are farmers, it’s getting dynamic,” Kokovtsov said.
“Bunke’s take?” Witte asked.
“Yes. He says the Far East is being turned upside down,” Kokovtsov replied.
No surprise—they scored centuries’ worth of local budgets.
“So the Far East is Nikolai’s endgame? Its development?” Witte asked.
“No, not quite… Maybe he wants to flip the whole empire like the Far East,” Kokovtsov mused.
“…”
The Tsar said East Siberia’s changes assume war.
But war across the empire? Doubtful. Flipping the empire like the Far East seems unlikely, yet Witte couldn’t find a flaw in Kokovtsov’s logic.
What happens when this national Duma, not local zemstvos, forms?
“…The Tsar can pick any party he wants, whenever he wants,” Witte realized.
It’s closer to a constitutional monarchy in name, but the parliament’s powerless without the Tsar’s backing.
In other words, controlling the parliament isn’t about votes—it’s about his favor.
“Kokovtsov, you said Lvov came with a party invite?” Witte asked.
“Yes, he’s gathering early members for the Constitutional Democratic Party,” Kokovtsov replied.
“From now on, ignore any party or group inviting you. Got it?” Witte ordered.
“Understood,” Kokovtsov nodded.
Obsessing over the Tsar’s goals almost made Witte miss the basics.
The Tsar hasn’t let anyone into his inner circle.
So Witte can’t join any side either.
National Duma or not, for a reformer like him, the Tsar’s protection is what matters.
