Authority in waiting

"Well done is better than well said."

~ Benjamin Franklin

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The next day, 18 September 1894

The Winter Palace's council chamber was cloaked in the oppressive weight of tradition and expectations. These walls had witnessed a lot. Good thing they couldn't speak...

Though still Tsarevich, Nicholas had summoned the cabinet will the full backing of his father, Alexander III. The Tsar's declining health had given Nicholas an unusual degree of authority, and today, he intended to wield it.

The ministers sat in their accustomed places, their faces masks of calculation and caution. Among them were Count Witte, Grand Duke Sergei Alexandrovich, Konstantin Pobedonostsev, Count Durnovo and other stalwarts of the Empire's governance. Nicholas rose to adress them, a pale light streaming through the tall windows casting a sharp silhouette.

'What does he want this time?' Konstantin thought.

"Gentlemen, as you know," Nicholas began, his voice steady, "this meeting is conducted with the Tsar's full authorization. You have all seen the letter bearing his seal."

A letter moved methodically through the room, presenting the document to those who had not reviewed it beforehand. The unmistakable mark of Alexander III silenced any potential dissent on that front.

Nicholas continued. "The matter I bring today is urgent: the Okhrana. Its current state is a disgrace. Corruption runs deep, and its efficiency has compromised our security. I intend to purge its ranks and restructure it into an effective body answering directly to the Tsar."

A murmur ripped through the room, a mix of uneasy and curiousity.

Grand Duke Sergei was the first to speak, his voice carrying a challenge.

"You propose removing the Okhrana from the Ministry of the Interior? Do you realize the upheaval this will cause? Such a move is unprecedented, Nicholas!"

In fact, Grand Duke Sergei's concern was his conservative ally Count Durnovo. Removing the Okhrana from his control will undermine the influence of the conservative faction. Also, an Okhrana in the hands of Nicholas, a reformist Crown Prince and soon-to-be Tsar would spell trouble for all conservatives.

Nicholas turned to him, his expression firm but respectful.

"Yes, uncle. It is unprecedented because the current situation is unacceptable. The Okhrana must serve the crown, not its own interests or of those corrupt officials. As the heir, I cannot allow this rot to fester."

Sergei's eyes narrowed, his jaw tightening.

"You speak boldly for someone who has yet to bear its weight, Nikolai!"

"Bold action is required to safeguard the future, just like our ancestor Peter the Great did, uncle!" Nicholas countered.

Konstantin Pobedonostsnev finally decided to barge in, leaning forward, his sharp features illuminated by the cold light.

"Purging an organization like the Okhrana carries risks. It will alienate the nobility and the bureaucracy, both of whom are already wary of reform. Who will take responsibility of the backlash??"

Nicholas met his gaze with a calming intensity. "Yes. The Tsar has granted me authority to act, and I intend to use it to the fullest. Here, you can even read his letter of appointment." Then he throws a letter on the table. In it was written:

"To whom it may concern, the Crown Prince, Nikolai Alexandrovich, is hereby entrusted with the responsibility of overseeing the reform and investigation of the Okhrana as he deems fit. This action is authorized by the Imperial authority of the Tsar, Alexander III, and any actions taken by the Crown Prince in this regard are considered to be with full imperial sanction."

"As you see, gentlemen, the Tsar has granted me full authority. The purge will be handled efficiently, and I have appointed Ivan Fedorov to lead the Inspection Department under my direct supervision."

Grank Duke Sergei scoffed. "Fedorov? An unknown bureaucrat from the Main Chamber of Weights and Measures? You entrust this important mission to someone so untested and inexperienced?"

Just the fact that Sergei and the conservatives knew Ivan, who was still a nobody, spoke volumes of the monitoring they had put on Nicholas and his association. Nicholas silently noted that in the back of his mind.

In the meantime, Witte, who had remained silent until now, interjected with his usual precision.

"Ivan Pavlovich Fedorov is an exceptional organizer, even though young. I have seen him myself. Sometimes, it is the untested who achieve the most because they have not yet learned the art of failure."

A faint smile touched Nicholas's lips.

Count Durnovo, the acting head of the Ministry of the Interior, spoke next, his tone measured but skeptical.

"What resources do you propose to fund this reform? The Okhrana's or even the empire's budget is already strained."

Witte leaned forward, his gaze sharp:

"The Crown Prince has made provisions from his personal investments to fund the reformation of the Okhrana."

This revelation caused another stir. By financing the reform himself, Nicholas had effectively neutralized one of the most common arguments against his plans.

But Pobedonostsev still pressed on:

"And what of the nobility?" He asked, his voice cold. "They will view this as a direct challenge to their influence. Have you considered the consequences??"

Brusilov, who had been quietly observing, finally spoke.

"The military stands ready to enforce the Tsar's will. If any noble house believes it can challenge the authority of the crown, they will be swiftly reminded of their place. The St. Petersburg garrison is more than ready."

This was an open threat. One that none of the men in this room missed.

'Ahhh, I've been waiting to say this for sooo long. Their faces are like an art piece to me. I wish there was a painter here, in this moment to immortalize their faces and put it in a museum. Hahahahahaha!' Brusilov thought, almost laughing out loud.

The feeling of power over the damned cockroach nobles was exhilarating, it was addicting. Brusilov didn't regret supporting Nicholas one bit at this moment.

Pobedonostsev turned his gaze to Brusilov, his expression unreadable. The tension in the room was palpable.

Nicholas seized the moment to reassert his authority. He chuckled coldly and said:

"Gentlemen, you misunderstood. This is not a proposal for discussion. It is a decision I am conveying to you. The Tsar has entrusted me with this responsibility, and I will carry it out. Stability cannot be built on the foundation of rot. The Okhrana WILL be purged and it WILL be rebuilt into a body that serves the empire with loyalty and efficiency."

The room fell silent, the weight of Nicholas's words settling over the ministers like a shroud.

Finally, Pobedonostsev broke the silence:

"You have made your position clear, Your Imperial Highness. I only hope you are prepared for the consequences." He conveyed while staring at Nicholas with a defying face.

Nicholas nodded, stating: "I am."

As the meeting came to a close, the ministers rose from their seats. Some offered polite bows to Nicholas, while others exchanged wary glances.

Witte lingered by Nicholas's side.

"You handled that well." He said quietly.

"Thank you, Sergei. We still have much to do." Nicholas resolutely stated.

In the corridors, Sergei Alexandrovich and Konstantin Pobedonostsev walked together, their faces dark with discontent.

"He speaks as if he's already Tsar." Sergei muttered.

"He may yet regret such confidence." Pobedonostsev replied.

"How did brother even give him permission to this madness? Did he go crazy too?" Sergei added, whispering.

"He is giving the Tsarevich a lot of confidence as of late..." stated Pobedonostsev.

Brusilov, meanwhile, approached Nicholas and clasped his shoulder.

"You've taken the first step, Your Imperial Highness. Now we'll see who dares to stand in your way."

Nicholas nodded, his expression resolute. As the ministers filed out of the chamber, he allowed himself a moment to gather his thoughts.

This was only the beginning...