Chapter 28: Too Many Thieves

The Russo-Japanese War had ended in what anyone could see was a Russian victory, and negotiations premised on Japan’s defeat had begun.

Thanks to having Nicholas II firmly muzzle everyone in advance, we managed to avoid the Ministry of Foreign Affairs spouting all manner of nonsense.

Incorporating the Korean Empire into the Russian mainland?

Use your heads. How would that ever work, you idiots?

-A country with a population of about 14 million, a single people who’ve lived together for centuries, with a king still sitting right there on his throne… and they want to fold it into the mainland. That idea is Russia in a nutshell.

Absolutely impossible.

Even Japan, whose territory practically touches the peninsula, tried that very thing, never managed to digest it, and blundered its way through every disaster imaginable, didn’t it?

And Russia, with its capital more than 6,000 kilometers away, thinks it’s going to swallow Joseon whole?

-Wouldn’t every patriot waging the anti-Japanese independence struggle just pivot straight into an anti-Russian independence struggle?

“My old man just wants to eat Joseon to screw Japan over anyway. If we take the Joseon that Japan wants so badly, Japan gets pissed off, right? That’s the whole simple logic behind the plan.”

Above all, if we genuinely tried to swallow Joseon, there was no way Britain would sit still.

A Russia stretching not just into Manchuria but all the way down the peninsula, free to roam the Pacific or South China as it pleased?

From Britain’s point of view, it was the perfect setup for a relapse of that old psychosis of theirs, the one where Russia comes sailing over to attack India this time.

“Still, good thing we found out beforehand. If the Tsar shuts them up, the Foreign Ministry won’t keep running its mouth either.”

Word was that Rasputin was starting to make a name for himself among the society ladies, so I figured I could pour my attention into that instead of diplomacy….

…or so I thought, for one brief moment.

Naively.

“…Pardon? You’re saying the Grand Dukes are up to something?”

“Yes. I dug into why exactly the Foreign Ministry was making all that noise about incorporating Joseon into the mainland, and it turned out to be rather complicated.”

Section Chief Yakov opened his notebook and began laying out documents in a long row.

One page, two pages, ten, twenty… wait, why are there so many of these?

“First, His Imperial Highness Grand Duke Vladimir Alexandrovich. Commander of the Guards Corps. If a garrison force is stationed on the Korean Peninsula, officers drawn from the Imperial Guard will supposedly be needed in the Far East, and under that pretext he is pushing to expand his authority over military appointments.”

“…And that’s why the Korean Peninsula must be incorporated into the Russian mainland?”

“Yes. We have intelligence reports that he plans to seat his three sons in key posts within the Far East garrison force. And his wife, Her Imperial Highness Maria Pavlovna, is actively shaping opinion in society on his behalf.”

-Planning to shove all three sons in at once. Now that’s operating on a whole different scale.

“Next, His Imperial Highness Grand Duke Sergei Alexandrovich. Governor-General of Moscow. Since incorporating the Korean Peninsula could mean establishing a new Governor-General’s office, he is working to extend his influence over the selection of the Far East Governor-General. He has also submitted a proposal to establish an Orthodox Church missionary base on the peninsula… which appears to be a pretext for drawing on the Holy Synod’s budget.”

No need to ask where that budget would end up.

Yakov’s voice was growing drier and drier; by this point, it seemed even the man giving the report was losing steam at how pathetic it all was.

“His Imperial Highness Grand Duke Nicholas Nikolaevich is demanding the post of Commander-in-Chief of the Far East. His logic is that blocking Japan’s resurgence requires stationing a standing army of 200,000 on the Korean Peninsula, but in effect he means to wield independent authority in the Far East himself.”

“A standing army of 200,000? And where on earth would the money come from?”

“Out of the budget, naturally. And the crux will be who sits in the seat that manages that budget.”

-So he just wants to crown himself king of the Far East, basically.

“His Imperial Highness Grand Duke Alexander Mikhailovich is drawing up plans to transfer the Korean Peninsula’s port and mining concessions to his own company. There is a report circulating under the name of Far East Economic Development, but look inside and every last line funnels into one particular company’s ledgers.”

“He’s His Majesty’s brother-in-law, isn’t he?”

“He is. Which is also why he moves with less restraint than anyone.”

-Mm-hm, in this country, being the Emperor’s brother-in-law means you have every right to help yourself to the state budget without a second thought. He probably believes that with all his heart, too.

“Grand Duke Kirill Vladimirovich is Grand Duke Vladimir’s eldest son. A naval officer by background, he has his eye on the post of General Admiral, vacant since His Imperial Highness Grand Duke Alexei Alexandrovich passed away. His argument is that the Far East Fleet must be massively expanded to defend the Korean coast….”

“Again? He wants to embezzle the naval budget too?”

“Yes. Think of it as his pledge to carry on the late Grand Duke Alexei Alexandrovich’s legacy of siphoning off 30 million rubles.”

So the will to embezzle is inherited along with the Grand Duke’s seat.

A development so moving that tears all but blinded me.

“Lastly, His Imperial Highness Grand Duke Sergei Mikhailovich. The Inspector General of Artillery. More artillery assigned to the Korean garrison means a larger procurement budget for artillery equipment, and this gentleman already has a record of taking payoffs on procurement contracts….”

Yakov closed his notebook, ending the report.

These were nothing short of pirates plundering the national budget.

Counting the already-dead Alexei Alexandrovich, the number came to exactly seven; calling them the Seven Warlords of the Sea, plundering all of Russia, would be no exaggeration.

On the surface, they cried national strength through annexing the Korean Peninsula, naval expansion, stronger Far East defenses. In reality, it was nothing but embezzlement schemes and influence peddling in appointments, all to fatten their own pockets.

One of the beasts had already been sent off by a Socialist Revolutionary Party bomb, but the remaining six were alive and well, sucking this country’s blood dry.

“…This won’t be easy.”

“No, it won’t.”

I’d squeezed out every trick I had to win this war, and now these pirate bastards wanted to gobble up all the fruits?

You think I wrecked Japan through all that madness just to fatten your wallets?

-Should we just “do an Alexeievich” on the whole lot of them?

This time, I didn’t push back against Seong-jun’s suggestion.

If it truly came down to the very last resort, with no other way left, it wasn’t something I couldn’t seriously do.

Better to give what had to be given than to watch the country collapse and everyone stand before revolutionaries’ firing squads.

Of course, that meant strictly as a last resort.

* * *

I gave it some serious thought.

How could I deal with the Seven Warlords of the Sea who were driving this country to ruin?

Ordinary crooks I could simply have the Okhrana expose and root out, but the problem was that every last one of them was a Grand Duke with the blood of the House of Romanov in his veins.

As long as Niki, that family-only pushover, stood shield for them, pushing head-on was out of the question.

Then again, sending all six off the way Alexeievich went wasn’t realistic either.

One or two, maybe, but every Grand Duke in Russia dying to commie bombs? Wouldn’t that be far too contrived, too strange?

The cleanest method, the one with no loose ends, would be to set off some diplomatic or political scandal and bury them one step at a time.

“Section Chief, come to think of it, anything unusual lately in the movements of the foreign legations? Britain, say?”

“Britain has been surprisingly quiet. If any country stands out these days… ah, there’s the Korean Empire’s Minister.”

“The Korean Empire? The same country the Grand Dukes are targeting in these negotiations, right?”

“Yes. With Russia victorious in the war, they apparently want to seize the chance to weaken Japan’s influence. The Ministry of Foreign Affairs, the British Legation, the French Legation… I’m told he’s knocking on every door he can find.”

-Yi Beom-jin… a loyal man, that’s for sure. A tragic one, too.

The moment I heard the name, the record of the Korean Empire’s Minister as Seong-jun remembered it rose vividly to mind.

The Korean Empire’s last Minister to Russia.

A man who did everything in his power for his country, and when nothing remained that he could do, took his own life, proving his loyalty on foreign soil thousands of miles from home.

“Would Minister Yi Beom-jin happen to know about the Grand Dukes’ movements?”

“No, he wouldn’t. The Grand Dukes’ plans are internal Russian documents; there’s no way a foreign minister could get near them.”

“So he just sees Japan about to be pushed out and hopes to secure a guarantee of independence in the opening.”

“Exactly. He must be desperate, in his own way.”

Even as I listened to Yakov’s report, cheers celebrating the victory rang out through the Petersburg streets beyond the window.

On one side, someone grinning ear to ear the moment the war was won, delighted that his chance to embezzle the budget had come.

On the other, someone running himself ragged in bitter grief across this frozen land to protect his country’s independence.

True, the only path he could pursue was leaning on the strength of foreign powers, but next to those Grand Duke bastards, I couldn’t help thinking he was an angel by comparison.

Yi Beom-jin… the Korean Empire’s Minister… incorporation of the Korean Peninsula….

Something like a good idea hovered just out of reach as I mulled it over, and then, all at once, I heard the puzzle pieces click into place.

The root of the problem was that I had no workable means of touching the Grand Dukes right now, wasn’t it?

Then what harm could there be in handing one little gift to a patriot running that hard for his own country?

It was pure goodwill, after all; I had no intention of asking much in return.

Just enough to slip a leash around the necks of those insufferable Grand Dukes would do nicely.

Ever so casually, I decided to cull a portion of the documents Section Chief Yakov had handed me and set it aside.

* * *

The operation’s codename, Operation Pirate Hunt.

If I’d had my way, I would have stuffed all six remaining bastards into the toilet and flushed, but there was exactly one man who had to be spared.

Grand Duke Sergei Mikhailovich.

He might be a man who used his post as Inspector General of Artillery to pocket kickbacks on procurement contracts, but I couldn’t simply ignore the fact that he was Auntie Kschessinska’s lover.

He was also the one who introduced me to the Tsar in the first place, so surely that debt had to be repaid in full.

So first, I wrote Kschessinska a letter.

‘Auntie, I hope you’re doing well. The mood at the palace has felt a little strange lately, and I got worried, so I’m writing you this letter. His Majesty’s face looked rather dark when he spoke about the Grand Dukes. I hope the Grand Duke who is close to you, Auntie, will keep some distance from the other Grand Dukes for a while and be careful.’

A letter carefully sent by a nine-year-old boy who had never forgotten the kindness of his mother’s friend.

Sharp as she was, Kschessinska would warn her lover, Grand Duke Mikhailovich, the moment she read it.

Stop running with the other Grand Dukes; lie low for a while.

A few days after I sent the letter, the day of Father Gapon’s poor relief work came around.

In the front yard of a shabby church in southern Petersburg, a volunteer station stood handing out bread and soup to the poor waiting in line, and as always, I handed out bread in a corner while chatting with Gapon.

The only difference from usual was the presence of one extra guest.

A middle-aged man with the distinctive black hair of an East Asian, dressed in a crisply pressed Western suit. Yi Beom-jin. I could feel him stealing anxious glances at Gapon.

“Father, this young man here is….”

“The son of a noble family who assists me in this volunteer work. He is also a pupil under my instruction, so you needn’t worry in the least.”

As the bread distribution wound down, Gapon quietly led Yi Beom-jin into the church, continuing as he went.

“Minister, I asked for this meeting because I have been deeply moved by your efforts.”

Gapon’s voice carried the warm resonance peculiar to a priest.

And in truth, his sense of justice, his desire to help those in need, was no lie at all, so the tone was not feigned.

“Watching you struggle alone in this distant land for your small, weak homeland has given me much to think on. The Lord never wishes for the strong to annex and oppress the weak.”

“…Father.”

“And so, Minister, I mean to show you a way to protect your country.”

Yi Beom-jin’s eyes wavered.

I listened closely from a corner of the church, pretending to tidy the bread boxes.

Gapon drew from inside his coat the bundle of documents he had received from me.

“This is…?”

“A report summarizing certain movements taking place inside Russia. Plans the Grand Dukes are pursuing… and their contents bear directly on the Korean Empire’s independence.”

Yi Beom-jin’s hands trembled faintly as he opened the documents.

Construction of naval bases along the Korean Peninsula’s coast.

Militarization of the ports of Busan and Incheon.

Massive expansion of the Far East Fleet.

Plan to organize a standing army stationed on the Korean Peninsula.

Proposal for large-scale deployment of artillery units.

With every page he turned, Yi Beom-jin’s face drained whiter.

Of course, not one word about the Grand Dukes’ true aims, the embezzlement and the concession-grabbing, appeared anywhere in these papers.

You could call it a set of military plans carved wholesale out of the surface-level schemes the dukes had drawn up for their embezzlement.

Reading this alone, wouldn’t anyone have to conclude that Russia was nursing ambitions to turn the Korean Peninsula into a military bridgehead and push outward into the Pacific and South China?

“Father… is all of this true? No, where on earth did you….”

“The truth is, I have quite a few friendly acquaintances among the officials in the government ministries. Even among them, more than a few feel that winning the war is one thing, but going this far is quite another.”

Gapon had not told a single lie.

Those really were the contents written in the Grand Dukes’ plans, and there was no shortage of people who disliked watching those men run rampant.

“Deliver these documents to the British Legation. What happens then, Minister, I believe you know very well.”

Yi Beom-jin’s hands clenched around the papers and did not loosen for a long while.

“But if you hand this over, Minister, you may find it difficult to remain in Russia any longer.”

“I… suppose so.”

“Even so, if it could save your country, what choice is there but to try?”

After a long silence, Yi Beom-jin slowly raised his head.

Fighting desperately to keep the tears from falling, he bowed his head.

“…Thank you. Thank you, Father.”

Once, twice, three times.

He bowed again and again, and at last, wiping his reddened, bloodshot eyes with his hand, he spoke in a thin, trembling voice.

“I never imagined that even in this faraway country, one with no ties at all to our people… there would be someone willing to give us such great help.”

“Not at all. It is thanks to your own desperate efforts, Minister, that even someone like me came to know of you.”

“I will never forget this kindness. When I return to my homeland… I will strive to accept the God you believe in, Father.”

For a man of faith, could any word of thanks be more rewarding than that?

Gapon smiled quietly and gripped Yi Beom-jin’s shoulder.

Documents tucked inside his breast, Yi Beom-jin stepped out through the church doors, and from behind a box piled high with bread I watched his back until it dwindled into the distance.

If anyone should be grateful here, it’s me.

Britain would be beside itself with joy over these documents, so Russia swallowing the Korean Peninsula would naturally become impossible.

…Ah! We went and won the whole war, and now, because the Grand Dukes couldn’t stop running wild, we’re about to throw away our chance at a massive windfall?

If the problems kept repeating, even a pushover like the Tsar would have no choice but to face the truth.

That this was no mere personal misstep; that the very existence of those Grand Dukes was the biggest problem of all.

~~~

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