Reincarnated as Nikolai II

Though Prime Minister Kokovtsov is active enough that Witte’s absence isn’t felt, that doesn’t make me any less busy.

To judge whether to implement a policy, I too must have at least basic knowledge in that field.

Thus the studying I started since ascending to the throne shows no signs of ending even past my fortieth year.

Balancing work and study - truly the epitome of studying while working, but from late February, even this wasn’t allowed.

"Prime Minister, can’t we make it smaller?"

"How could we? If you’d held a grand coronation ceremony that would be one thing, but we can’t skip this one. Where else would we find a better propaganda opportunity?"

"It doesn’t seem like we need propaganda..."

"We can’t gloss over it like the coronation. Given how rarely you appear in public as it is, all imperial citizens must be waiting for this one."

The Romanov Tercentenary celebration.

While I’m burning up inside with only a year left until war, this is an event incomparably larger than the coronation ceremony.

It’s funny how even the order of ceremonies is half-determined, but first it starts with a splendid banquet at the Winter Palace.

As it’s the start, it runs for a modest full week.

Is the banquet held only at the Winter Palace?

No. Banquets are held simultaneously in the capital and far-off places during this period.

Of course, this festival isn’t just enjoyed by imperial nobles.

All Slavic peoples - and anyone even slightly connected to these Slavic peoples - participate together.

The high priests of Armenia and Georgia.

The Mollas (Khans) and tribal chiefs of Central Asian nomads.

The Khanate of Khiva and Emirate of Bukhara.

And other Emirs (rural nobles or high officials with titles) from distant regions like Siberia or the Far East.

All are gathering in St. Petersburg, transcending religion and ethnicity.

February, though the weather hasn’t warmed yet, the streets are already decorated in the empire’s tricolor - blue, red, and white.

Statues that should be in museums are publicly displayed on the streets, with ribbons and wreaths making these decorations stand out even more.

A massive festival exciting everyone just with the preparations.

However, to my eyes it looked like this.

Money madness. Or waste of money.

’How much is all this costing? If we could divert that budget to the military industry and collect more taxes...’

It’s truly the height of extravagance, with its gleaming spires reaching toward the clouds and streets lined with boutiques showcasing the finest luxuries from around the globe. Every corner seems to whisper of opulence and grandeur.

With the capital like this, other cities are not worth mentioning. Its magnificent boulevards, world-class cultural institutions, and unmatched architectural splendor have set a standard that leaves its rivals in perpetual shadow. The sheer scale and sophistication of its urban planning make competing metropolises seem like mere provincial towns in comparison.

They probably even drew on city budgets to decorate.

After the reds completely vanished from cities following the Russo-Japanese War victory, I occasionally slipped out of the palace to walk the streets.

Though the Okhrana takes position on the streets one step ahead and if that’s not enough, guards follow in disguise, at least I’m not absolutely confined to the palace like in my father’s time.

Leaving the Winter Palace and crossing downtown by carriage leads to Nevsky Prospect, the capital’s largest central avenue.

This street is a massive road where sidewalks, roadway, tram tracks, and squares coexist, and I often visit as it shows the capital’s actual state at a glance.

"Here too has gone mad with waste."

The numbers ’1613-1913’ and double-headed eagles are painted on every bank wall.

Below them, phrases symbolizing the Romanovs and ’God Save the Tsar’ are prominently displayed.

Beyond that, the Tsar’s genealogy.

My portrait.

New commemorative coins to be released.

And achievements listed out.

"The whole country’s gone mad."

"Don’t view it so negatively."

"Anna, this country is still poor. Rather than spending money on such things, they should have increased the welfare ministry’s budget."

Rather than simply disliking ceremony and formality like my father, I just find it unbearably wasteful to spend money on such things.

"But you couldn’t stop it, could you?"

"...Damn it."

Right, I couldn’t stop it. More precisely, they took advantage while I wasn’t paying attention, arranging it to proceed naturally until I was caught off guard.

Even citizens seem to have prepared icons (Orthodox paintings), crosses, and banners, so I couldn’t stop it even if I wanted to.

"The Orthodox Church folks have lost their minds too. Since I’ve been indifferent to them, they’re trying to show off their influence at this opportunity."

"For that kind of thing, aren’t other religions participating too? Patriarch Gregory IV said he’d allow visiting other religious cathedrals for the first time."

"That’s all showing off! It’s politics!"

I dislike all of it. Is everyone’s head filled with flowers except mine?

However, only a week remains until the commemoration begins. At this point, I can’t call it off either.

"...Tch, let’s go back."

"Yes."

I couldn’t bring myself to spoil Anna’s pure joy.

==

Continue your journey on empire

In my memory, this tercentenary well demonstrates the Russian Empire’s duality.

1913, when workers’ strikes and protests were in full swing.

The empire had to endure much pain in the process of Stolypin removing the abscess called the Mir, and politically, local corruption had reached its peak.

Thus while the Romanov dynasty tried to unite the empire through this splendid event, it ended up only encouraging the empire’s division.

An extravagant empire.

Imperial citizens growing more alienated and rebellious watching it, their resentment simmering as they witnessed such conspicuous displays of wealth while struggling to afford basic necessities in their own provinces. The stark contrast between the capital’s excesses and their daily hardships only deepened the widening chasm between ruler and ruled.

In a way, it was natural that strikes and protests exploded across the empire after this grand event. The lavish spectacle had served as the final spark, igniting years of accumulated grievances about inequality and neglect. From the northern industrial zones to the southern agricultural regions, people who had long endured in silence finally found their collective voice, turning their bitter frustration into organized resistance against the system that had left them behind.