Balance (3)
The Liaodong Peninsula battlefield was bizarre—no bullets flew despite Qing forces rushing to reclaim their land and the Japanese refusing to budge.
General Oyama Iwao, commander of Japan’s Second Army, felt his stomach drop when he heard Russian troops were massing above his position.
Are those lunatics silently piling troops on the border without a word?
Sure, their territory’s close, but the first rule of this war was clear: Don’t mess with Russia.
Naturally, Oyama had taken pains to separate foreign merchants and missionaries from the battlefield, even escorting them to Pyongyang if needed. All to ensure the great powers had no excuse to intervene.
Yet now, Russian forces were gathering right over his head.
That alone froze his advance after taking Dalian. Then came worse news.
Crown Prince Nikolai’s arrival.
And with the Tsar’s ironclad mandate, no less.
Russian officers like Roman and Sergei trembled just knowing the crown prince was at the border, but Japan saw the situation differently.
Alexander III’s fierce intent to intervene. Ready for war.
This wasn’t Nikolai being reckless. No matter how you sliced it, this was the Tsar’s resolute will to meddle in the Far East.
“Damn bastards! I knew it the moment their emperor ordered that railway built!” Oyama fumed.
“Li Hongzhang lost land to Russia six years ago, and now he’s pulling them in again? Is he sane?” another officer spat.
“If even a hair on Nikolai’s head is touched… they won’t stop at Korea,” a third muttered.
In Europe, Alexander III might be the “Peacemaker,” but in the Far East—especially to Qing, Korea, and Japan—Russia was a thug. They’d stormed the Amur region, demanded 300 square kilometers as “compensation,” and, despite barely having a navy, brandished ironclads to force trade treaties.
This was just Russia being Russia. Except now, they’d sent their crown prince, practically shouting, “Wanna fight? Bring it.”
Openly backing the Qing, with France and Germany in tow.
It was a vicious move to trip Japan mid-stride.
Fuming, Prime Minister Ito Hirobumi arrived by sea at Jinzhou City, deeper inland than Dalian.
Japan had seized Liaodong.
The Qing were rallying to take it back.
France, Germany, and Russia had ended six months of watching from the sidelines.
Jackals, all of them, circling for scraps.
By the time Ito and Foreign Minister Mutsu Munemitsu arrived, the attendees seemed to have their stories aligned.
“I am Li Jingfang, first-rank imperial envoy,” said a Qing representative, greeting them first.
No wonder a mere envoy, who’d once knocked on Japan’s door begging for a truce, now had the gall to act so composed.
Let’s see. France wants Taiwan, Germany’s guarding their interests. They likely dragged Russia in to balance European powers.
Not aggressive intervention, but they wouldn’t hesitate for passive involvement.
Meanwhile, Li Hongzhang and Li Jingfang wanted Liaodong back. Having lost their navy, they knew continuing the war meant certain defeat.
The key question: What does Russia want?
“Haha, diving into business right away? Let’s catch our breath first,” Nikolai said with a smile.
The problem was, Ito couldn’t fathom what orders this sharp-witted crown prince carried from his father.
Despite Japan’s upper hand, Ito couldn’t dismiss even a single word from this young, childless prince.
When Nikolai suggested a break and everyone stayed seated, he stood first.
Then he approached Ito.
“Got a cigarette? Preferably Japanese…” he said, grinning, wiggling empty fingers.
Four-grand hookahs, cutting-edge vapes, classic cigarettes, or those cigars I can barely puff without choking—man, what I’d give for a real smoke.
This body only occasionally puffs a pipe, not like I’m addicted or anything. Still, in this era, cigarettes have one killer perk.
They’re the perfect excuse for a private chat.
And I know Ito’s a chain-smoker.
“Asahi cigarettes, huh? First time trying these,” I said, taking a drag.
“Not pricey, but rich in flavor. Everyone enjoys them, high or low,” Ito replied.
“Your English is impressive,” I noted.
“Studied in Britain. Naturally,” he said.
His polished, educated English stood out.
“Phew… first time we’re talking one-on-one, right?” I asked.
“I’ve heard plenty about you. Including that incident years ago,” Ito said.
“Haha, that? Ancient history. Barely remember it,” I brushed off.
Ito glanced away, probably thinking of the final indemnity payment sent this year.
Suspicion. Hostility. How do I loosen up this guy’s ironclad resolve?
This meeting’s about him and me. The rest are just props.
Screw it, no choice but to pull the old trick.
The one that worked before: It’s all Father’s will.
“Two months to Khabarovsk, then ten days here. Hell of a trek to make in person,” I said.
“The Tsar’s orders leave little choice,” Ito replied.
“Exactly. Even I can’t defy the Tsar’s commands. But no one controls what’s in my head, right?” I said, smirking.
Ito didn’t buy it but leaned in, waiting for more.
“Let’s say, just hypothetically, if your army had pushed deeper into Liaodong, I wouldn’t be here,” I continued. “Instead, you’d have Governor Sergei and that guy back there—Roman, my buddy—leading every soldier from our military districts.”
“…”
Not a lie. If the Qing were pushed to their capital, every power would’ve swarmed Japan.
I just wrapped that obvious truth in the Tsar’s “sacred orders.”
Yeah, I’m here, troops are massing above you, France and Germany are in—all because my warlord father wants to gobble up the Far East.
“But I’m different. I don’t know how much you know about me, but I’m not a fan of war,” I said.
“This war is to punish the Qing for oppressing Korea and restore its sovereignty—” Ito started.
“Yeah, yeah, I get it. Politics, interests, whatever. I’m not big on the details,” I cut in.
He went quiet, signaling me to keep talking.
“Phew, all this fuss over some dirt,” I sighed, leaning against the wall, puffing smoke. What is it with land that makes people kill and die?
I could practically feel Ito’s eyes rolling.
No, Li didn’t drag me here. This is all Alexander III, the war-hungry Tsar, hell-bent on eating the Far East. Me? I’m a bit different.
My goal in pulling Ito aside?
“I see it clear as day,” I said. “Keep this up, and the outcome’s obvious.”
“What outcome?” Ito asked.
“A war between Russia and Japan.”
That’s my take on this whole mess.
“Liaodong? Korea? Never cared much, just how it goes. Strong nations expand—it’s history. Russia’s fought plenty of wars, too,” I said.
Ito’s eyelids twitched.
“But if this continues, I see it coming. Soon—probably when I’m ruling Russia—a massive war between us. So, despite Father’s wishes, I chose mediation,” I said.
Ito knows this. Unlike me, he saw the Three-Power Intervention and realized continental expansion means war with Russia.
“…Your views differ from the Tsar’s, yet he sent you to the Far East. Strange,” Ito said.
“Because he’s gravely ill. I’m the next Tsar,” I replied.
“…”
As of today, I’m officially the disloyal son defying Father, but delaying a Russo-Japanese war by even a year? Worth it.
“I don’t want war with Japan—or anyone. But I won’t hesitate to fight to protect what’s ours. So this isn’t persuasion or pressure—it’s my real question. Does Japan want war with Russia?” I asked.
“You keep spouting ideals. I don’t know how to respond,” Ito said.
“Haha, really? Fine, new question. Do you think Japan can beat Russia right now?” I pressed, hitting his pride.
“That’s unknown,” he dodged.
“No, you know. Better than any officer. You’d better, if you don’t want to lose Korea,” I shot back.
This isn’t some naive idealist crossing the continent.
I know reality better than anyone but chase ideals anyway.
“Why not team up with the Qing and take Korea ourselves? Or swallow Manchuria for driving you out? Father would love that, and no bureaucrat would dare object. So why hasn’t Russia intervened directly, when even a lowly crown prince like me can see the clash coming?”
Because we’re broke, reforms are underway, the railway’s unfinished, and projecting power here would be insane…
But give me some credit for my noble intentions.
“A Russia-Japan war benefits no one. Except maybe Britain, lurking behind you. No one wins,” I said.
“All thanks to you? Don’t think I’m that naive—” Ito started.
“Highness!” Roman burst in.
“What? Can’t you see I’m talking?” I snapped.
“The Tsar… he’s passed,” Roman said.
“…What?” I froze.
“Just received via the Communications Ministry. His Majesty passed this morning in Livadia, where he was recovering. You must return to St. Petersburg immediately!”
“…Goddamn it,” I muttered, dropping my cigarette.
Of all times, Father dies now?
Turning to Ito mid-exit, I left my final words.
“Those weren’t the ramblings of a mere crown prince but the will of the Tsar, monarch of the Russian Empire. I hope we’re aligned,” I said.
“…”
“If you still don’t buy it, get lost. I’ve compromised enough,” I added.
I said all I needed to Ito.
Whether he buys my sincerity or not, this meeting’s outcome won’t shift much, but our nations’ future relations will.
“I’m out of time. Resume the talks now,” I barked, sitting down as I reentered.
The main terms were already sent. Now it’s just push, pull, and sign.
Everyone’s eyes on me shifted in an hour, no doubt hearing the news.
Whatever. The talks started, and I’ve got no time.
Reject this, and I’m leaving tonight. Someone else will take my place, and the terms might change.
The decision now lies with Ito, who started this war.
Does he shake my hand and end it?
Or face Russia post-funeral, per Alexander III’s will?
I was ready to bolt for Father’s funeral.
Scratch, scratch, scratch.
Ito, knowing this, didn’t take long to sign.
