Son of a

"What are you so afraid of losing, when nothing in the world actually belongs to you?"

~ Marcus Aurelius

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*knock knock*

The servant knocked very lightly on the door. Light enough so that he would know his master was asleep and not wake him abruptly at the same time.

When no answer came, Vasily, the valet, gently turned the brass handle.

He liquidated the door every two weeks so they wouldn't make any noise when he opened it. But even then, he opened it slowly, exercising caution so as not to wake his master up.

He stepped inside, careful to keep his boots silent on the polished wooden floor.

In the grand bed, Sergei Witte lay with his back to the door. Beside him, his wife, Matilda, stirred lightly but did not wake. Then, still on his toes, he walked towards the window. There, he slowly and gently opened the curtains and let the pale morning light flood the room.

Then, Witte shifted slightly, letting out a groggy sigh.

Seeing his master awake, Vasily cleared his throat quietly and respectfully said:

"Your Exellency." His voice low and steady.

"It is six o' clock. You requested to be woken early for a meeting with His Majesty."

Witte's hand fumbled for the edge of the blanket as he muttered:

"Yes, yes. I'm awake."

Vasily stepped closer to the bed, his hands folded neatly in front of him.

"Shall I prepare your usual working suit, Your Exellency?"

Before Witte could answer, Matilda's soft voice cut through the moment.

"Sergei, you'll catch a cold if you rush up like this." she murmured without opening her eyes.

"I must." Witte replied, his voice still heavy with sleep but edged with resolve. He sat up, running a hand through his disheveled hair.

"Thank you, Vasily. Yes, the suit."

The valet moved to the wardrobe, selecting Witte's morning suit and laying it out with practiced precision.

"Tea or coffee, sir?" Vasily asked, folding the starched white shirt carefully over his arm.

"Coffee." Witte said, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. He glanced at Matilda, who had already buried herself into the covers.

"I'll be home soon." he added softly to her, brushing a stray strand of hair from her face.

"Hmm." she murmured, not fully awake but managing a faint smile.

Vasily left to prepare the coffee and Sergei began preparing himself.

After wearing his clothes, Sergei looked at the mirror. Feeling satisfied, he left the room and went downstairs towards the dining room.

He could smell the faint aroma of freshly baked bread and strong coffee mingling with the lingering scent of fire even from outside the room. Then, he walked in and sat alone at the head of the table, already dressed in his formal attire. His eyes were sharp despite the early hour, fixed on the streaming coffee before him.

Vasily was close to him and then he asked:

"Madam Matilda didn't wake up, sire?"

Without rising his eyes from the coffee pot, responded:

"No she didn't, Vasily. It's still early so let her sleep."

Then he turned and said:

"Ah, bring me the briefcase I put the reports in last night."

Vasily bowed respectfully and left the room.

Five minutes later, he returned with a black briefcase which Sergei took with him before leaving.

Once outside, he got into his carriage which started moving as soon as he ordered.

While the carriage was moving, Sergei opened the briefcase on his lap.

The one who stole his attention was one on which Ivan and himself had cooperated. In this specific document, Ivan had sent the latest reports on the purge.

17 Senior Officers

- around 500.000 Rubles sequestrated in movable assets.

- around 600.000 Rubles sequestrated in immovable assets.

154 Mid-Level Officers

- around 2.1 million Rubles sequestrated in movable assets.

- around 3 million Rubles sequestrated in immovable assets.

352 Low-Level Operatives

- around 800.000 Rubles sequestrated in movable assets.

- around 1.2 million Rubles sequestrated in immovable assets.

735 common Clerks

- around 300.000 Rubles sequestrated in movable assets.

- around 500.000 Rubles sequestrated in immovable assets.

Sergei smiled. That made 3.7 million liquid Rubles for the government to use.

And Tsar Nicholas had ordered him as soon as the purge had begun to reinvest any money they got from it back into the economy. About the debt, they would pay it slowly as the development of the economy had priority.

As for the 5.3 million in immovable assets, they were going to redistribute some of it to the loyal and moderate nobles and even some of the military officers.

The other part of the land, Nicholas ordered to keep. For now.

'The Tsar feels quite cunning and capable sometimes, but there are other times in which I can't understand him. Like when he ordered the beginning of a mass purchase and collection of Uranium. What does he need that for? People mostly use it for jewelry, dying and... beautiful glass?

I really hope he won't degenerate into luxury as many Tsars did... Even when I inquired, he said "just trust me and do it."...' Sergei thought to himself, somewhat concerningly.

Then, the carriage slowly came to at a café on Nevsky Prospekt. It was a discreet but elegant venue frequently visited by officials.

When Sergei left the carriage, he was attacked by the winter frost but his elegant heavy coat shielded him from the chill.

He stepped inside the café, scanning the room until his eyes landed upon a certain personage, who was seated near the corner.

The current Marshal of the Nobility of

Kovno, the 33-year old Pyotr Stolypin rose to his feet as Witte approached.

From Witte's perspective, Stolypin looked like a giant towering before him. Witte was quite tall himself, but Stolypin was even taller.

"Marshal Stylopin." Witte greeted, extending a hand.

"Thank you for meeting me on such short notice."

"Minister Witte." Stolypin replied.

"It's an honor. Though I must admit, I was surprised by your summons."

Stolypin studied Witte for a while and thought:

'He feels every bit as smart and cunning as I thought him to be.'

Witte offered a tight smile as he took a seat.

"Surprises often carry opportunity, Governor. Tea?"

'I guessed that much.' Stolypin mused to himself.

Stolypin nodded politely but didn't reach for his cup.

"What brings you to me, Minister? My reports from Kovno were submitted last month. I trust there are no issues." He said

"None." Sergei assured him, leaning forward.

"In fact, quite the opposite. Through the Okhrana, we have taken note of your work. Even the Tsar himself knows your name."

Stolypin's brows knit slightly, his composure unshaken but his interest piqued.

"I'm honored by His Majesty's recognition. But what do you require of me?"

"A meeting." Witte said simply. "The Tsar wishes to discuss your vision for governance. He is slowly assembling a team of trusted and capable people to guide Russia into a new era, and he wants to meet you."

Stolypin's face remained unreadable, though a flicker of surprise crossed his eyes.

"I have always wanted to serve the empire to the best of my ability. When does His Majesty wish to meet?"

"As soon as possible." Witte replied. "The Winter Palace. I will arrange the details."

Stolypin inclined his head and said:

"Then I shall prepare myself."

Stolypin and Witte continued conversing on governance and economy. At the end of the meeting, Witte stood up, his expression satisfied.

"Good. The Tsar prizes loyalty and competence above all. Serve him well, and you will have the opportunity to leave your mark on history."

As Stolypin watched Witte leave the café, his mind churned with possibilities.

'Governance, he mentioned in the beginning... Will He really?'

On the other side, before getting into the carriage once again, Witte mused to himself

'That son of a b*tch. He has found himself another competent man. There's just something about this guy. And him being a high noble will be of help too.'

After that, Witte ordered:

"To the Winter Palace."

And smiled to himself.