Reincarnated as Nikolai II

[Overwhelming Victory, Hindenburg’s Election]

[German Coup Threat, Completely Disappearing?]

Roman’s face grew increasingly furrowed as he read the newspaper while eating black bread - rye dough baked with Eastman flour and lightly sprinkled with salt.

"Hindenburg, does this man not know moderation? He’s starting politics when he should be looking for a place to die. Late-life greed has ruined the life he built as a soldier."

"I suppose he thinks it’s too precious to die like this. Even former President Ebert could have wielded power comparable to the Kaiser if not for the far-left terrorists and protests."

As Kornilov continued explaining that based on political dynamics, Hindenburg was the only one who could receive support from both the military and Social Democratic Party without coup threats, Roman set down his meal and looked at him.

"But why have you come to my house so early in the morning?"

"Ahem, I too, based on these political dynamics, for the next Marshal’s next position-"

"What, you think I’ll enter the General Staff because it’s vacant?"

Just recently, Chief of General Staff Kuropatkin had died.

Though it seemed like an unremarkable ordinary death, those who should know all knew. That Chief Kuropatkin completed post-war military reduction with his own death.

Just as he had kicked out the star-bearing generals during the past military reforms, this time he sent everyone home regardless of whether they were staff, officers, or soldiers.

In that process, units were disbanded and some lost their jobs and harbored grudges, but.

’They say you can’t resent a dead person, he went out in a blaze of glory.’

Unlike Hindenburg who desperately clung to power, Kuropatkin was a man who rolled around the political arena in uniform.

Even while knowing his life was ending, he only thought about how to utilize it. Stay updated through freewebnovel

To Roman, it was truly the madness of a political soldier obsessed with honor, but seeing how the Empire’s people genuinely mourned his death, it seems his life wasn’t entirely in vain.

After Chief of Staff Kuropatkin passed away, General Brusilov was next to leave.

General Brusilov, who was essentially just waiting to ascend to the highest position in the Imperial Army, reported his retirement from the Imperial Palace the next day without looking back.

That’s not all.

Generals Kellog and Stoessel, who led the Siberian Army, left the military without regret right after the war.

General Yudenich, the great commander of the Caucasus Army, departed on a world tour.

And putting a period on this, Grand Duke Nikolaevich, who was the only one remaining in the Imperial Army, voluntarily resigned citing age.

If the Empire was reborn under Tsar Nicholas II, these first-generation generals - those generals who led the Imperial Army since the Russo-Japanese War and either held command authority through the Great War or at least laid the foundation.

Now none remained.

"Except me."

Except for Kondratenko, who was once the youngest.

"It’s wrong to say everyone left. Have you heard about Lieutenant General Mannerheim, General Brusilov’s successor? Ah, is he a full General now?"

"They say he didn’t return to Finland after all."

"Plus he has the title of being the successor to pure cavalry from General Aleksei Brusilov, the Empire’s greatest offensive commander? What do you think this means?"

What else could it mean. Though the military separated after Finland’s independence, if he didn’t return, there’s only one reason.

"Is he aiming for Chief of Staff?"

"...Will you let him?"

Though Kornilov asked carefully, Roman was lost in other thoughts.

He had acknowledged Kuropatkin being above him.

Even among the first generation, he was practically from Governor Dukhovskoy’s senior generation, had more than proven himself during military reforms, and actually solidly supported the rear of the vast front as wartime Chief of Staff.

But Mannerheim? That man ten years his junior, who might return to Finland at any time, wants to rise to the peak of the Imperial Army?

Feeling immediate uncomfortable opposition arise, Roman finally understood why Kornilov had visited so early in the morning.

Among first-generation generals who made their names through direct command in branch-specific roles during the Great War.

"Artillery General Ivanov."

"Cavalry General Brusilov."

"And me. Engineering General Roman Isidorovich Kondratenko."

There might be more generals, but they can be broadly divided into three.

"Kornilov."

"Yes, General."

"I’m sixty-eight now. That falls under Chief Kuropatkin’s retirement age. Well, someone of my caliber could do more, but there’s nowhere suitable to go anyway."

He can’t go to a military district command where lieutenant generals and generals usually serve, and above that only the Minister of War or Chief of Staff positions remain.

Moreover, as the one and only Engineering General? His pride won’t allow him to shamefully return to head the Engineering School and take a successor’s position at this point.

However, there is one way.

"The dirty and ugly military reduction ended in Chief Kuropatkin’s hands. And the government’s will to build naval power is limited after signing the Washington Naval Treaty."

"...It doesn’t make sense for the Imperial Army to prioritize navy and abandon the army."

"So you want me to become Chief of Staff?"

"Who else would dare rise there if not you, General?"

The suspicious atmosphere lately.

Japan preparing to rise again, France not hesitating to project force, and Germany sharpening its blade of revenge.

Plus the uncomfortable accompaniment with America whose national power was rising ominously.

When the military can’t weaken now, someone needs to take the wheel Chief Kuropatkin left behind.

"There must be dozens of cars stopped outside this house’s walls."

"...We will all support you, General."

"Young ones always rush about without knowing front from back."

Though they would all be over fifty, to Roman it seemed like hasty judgment with far too little experience.

Though Roman answered Kornilov coldly while clicking his tongue, internally he wasn’t displeased. No, seeing their reactions, it felt like he wasn’t a person without public trust.

However, he must not let his guard down. Delusion is a shortcut to death.

Factions are dangerous. This kind of bottom-up recommendation is beyond dangerous - it’s perfect for getting your neck cut by the guillotine’s blade coming down from higher up.