Reincarnated as Nikolai II

Though bearing a superficial resemblance to the elaborate ritual of an Orthodox funeral with its incense and chanting, this ceremony strictly followed the more understated funeral customs traditional to the American South, particularly Georgia, where simplicity and personal connection take precedence over formal liturgy.

Finally, Kokovtsov’s turn arrived. With heavy steps and a racing heart, he slowly rose from his cushioned seat, straightening his dark suit jacket before making the long walk forward to approach the polished wooden coffin, knowing this would be his last chance to say goodbye.

Sergei Witte.

The great reformer who compressed hundreds of years of reforms that desperately poor medieval Russia had postponed into 20 years while earning two Tsars’ trust.

One capable in both internal affairs and diplomacy who prepared and implemented reforms the empire needed at the right time.

One who tried to doubt and check the Tsar until the end but ultimately grudgingly acknowledged him.

And, reform comrade and teacher.

Though wondering what to say before an already dead corpse, facing him, Kokovtsov’s mouth opens naturally.

"...The imperial citizens cheer for war. If you heard, you might have clutched your neck."

For a moment thought he might have died because of Constantinople’s occupation, but he had been ailing for a while before so probably not.

"We’re winning the war. Though many will die going forward, there won’t be the post-war aftereffects you worried about."

When people are this favorable toward war, it becomes driving force for conducting war. At this rate, the empire won’t split or become desolate after the war.

"I don’t know if I’m doing as well as you. I’m not a person full of conviction like you."

Unlike Witte who always gave confidence to all who followed with full certainty, Kokovtsov didn’t consider himself such a bright and strong-willed person.

He couldn’t lead change like Witte and just barely kept up with the times.

"Still, I’ll love this country as much as you."

Sergei Witte, the man who loved Russia more than anyone.

Kokovtsov made a final firm resolution and crossed himself.

Returning to his front seat and trying to disperse the lingering impression, Minister Stolypin was delivering final words after him.

"...Through this war I learned once again. To win in a great war, one must advocate peace while deceiving everyone silently like the Prime Minister. In fact, you prepared for war more than anyone. Yes, I’ll become a pacifist through this occasion. From now on I’ll live wearing the mask of a moderate following you. But I won’t forget. All reform ultimately leads to guns and swords-"

Shouldn’t have sat in the front row, where every twitch and gesture was painfully visible under the harsh fluorescent lights, where there was nowhere to hide from the scrutinizing gazes that seemed to pierce through him like needles.

The sadness that had been weighing on Kokovtsov’s shoulders like a lead blanket until just moments ago completely fled, replaced by an urgent, almost primal need to escape. His mind, previously clouded by melancholy, now focused on a single desperate thought: wanting to leave quickly, to slip away from this suffocating room before anyone could notice the trembling in his hands or the cold sweat beginning to form on his brow.

Though incomprehensible how that person grows more twisted with age, the Tsar must not dismiss him because his ability is that good.

As Stolypin descends, now it’s the turn of retired generals who were close to Prime Minister Witte.

First, war hero Sergei Dukhovskoy barely came forward leaning on a cane.

Then, he smirked.

Though not visible to others, Kokovtsov in the front clearly saw it.

"...Didn’t I say so? The day would come when that Brusilov bastard would ride around the battlefield slaughtering everyone. What? Personnel corruption? School and regional connections? Go ask the Boches in hell why they all came at once."

Kokovtsov closed his eyes after hearing that far.

Today especially, he felt more respect for the one who built up the empire alongside such humans.

==

Though the Anglo-French forces ultimately couldn’t take Gallipoli. 𝒇𝒓𝙚𝒆𝔀𝓮𝓫𝒏𝓸𝙫𝓮𝓵.𝓬𝙤𝙢

"...We surrender. Everyone lay down your weapons."

With Constantinople fallen, Ottoman forces’ resistance was meaningless. Mustafa Kemal’s army quietly laid down their weapons.

In June, seeing the Ottoman Empire collapse, Italy had a change of heart and suddenly declared war on Austria-Hungary.

Thus the Dual Monarchy had to divide forces between three fronts - the Serbian front, Romanian-Russian front, and Italy’s Isonzo front.

In July, German South West Africa fell to Britain’s General Louis Botha, putting essentially all major German overseas colonies in Entente hands.

Concessions, ports, islands, colonies.

No matter how busy the Western Front or theaters increased, Britain and France methodically took away their imperialist products.

In August, King Alexander I of Serbia sent special envoys to major Entente powers requesting negotiations.

Thanks to Italy opening the Isonzo front, Serbia gained hope for recovering territory, and wanted to use this opportunity to guarantee post-war spoils. Read exclusive adventures at freewebnovel

"If you guarantee post-war territory up to the peat region, Baranya, Syrmia, Slavonia, Bosnia and Herzegovina, and Eastern Dalmatia, we’ll try pushing back the Dual Monarchy!"

"Well promises aren’t difficult. Yes, alright, go ahead and try-"

"Don’t say such nonsense. Be grateful Bulgaria isn’t stabbing Serbia in the back right now."

Though Britain agreed, France was lukewarm and surprisingly Russia opposed immediate conclusions, so Alexander I’s negotiation proposal broke down.

Since Bulgaria would have long since invaded Serbia if not for Russia’s Constantinople occupation, Serbia couldn’t push unreasonably either.

September.

French Fourth and Second Armies gathered in Champagne.

Germany, closely watching the troop movements, also deployed their Third Army.

27 French divisions and 19 German divisions.

Different from before was that both sides prepared such forces while having troops spread in trenches from the North Sea to Switzerland.

As signs of another major battle appeared on the Western Front.

"...Eh, huh? Why does their formation look a bit strange?"

"Quick, take photos before enemy planes come! Roll the cameras quickly!"

"Ah, understood!"

"Damn, we’ll get shot down if we go deeper!"

An era where reconnaissance aircraft are always in the sky but technology to shoot them down is lacking.

With reconnaissance pilot dogfights using pistols at thousands of feet altitude, it wasn’t difficult to scout stationary enemies if they didn’t penetrate deeply.

After several subsequent reconnaissance missions, German forces became certain.

"...The Slavs are coming."

At this moment when France knocked on Champagne.

Russia, who brought down the Ottomans, was also coming for them.