Shadows over the crown

While the city outside the walls sank into the early morning quiet, Counselor Oleg finally found time to visit the treasury. News of young Prince Alexander causing a stir there had reached him after the council the day before. Yet pressing matters had delayed him from investigating immediately. He had dismissed the incident as insignificant, believing the young prince unlikely to accomplish anything truly remarkable.

Oleg entered at a measured pace, maintaining his habitual mask of calm. However, the atmosphere inside, usually tranquil and orderly, struck him as entirely uncharacteristic. A tense buzz filled the air, and the staff bustled about in a manner far beyond the usual routine.

He surveyed the hall with a sharp gaze. Each person who noticed him hastily ducked behind desks or lowered their eyes. Clerks and scribes argued over tables filled with ledgers, while in one corner, parchment rustled noisily. At the center, a large table piled with scrolls stood Radomir, the head treasurer, issuing orders with the air of a man burdened beyond his capacity.

Spotting Oleg, Radomir carefully placed his papers aside and stepped forward. His face bore a calculated expression of respect, though his eyes betrayed exhaustion.

- Counselor Oleg, welcome, - Radomir said evenly, inclining his head slightly in formal acknowledgment rather than submission.

Oleg's steps echoed as he approached the table, the sound emphasizing his presence. He halted and cast a critical eye over the scene of feverish activity. The tension in the air suggested that everyone felt the counselor's arrival might herald unforeseen consequences.

- Radomir, - Oleg began in a low voice, though each word landed like the strike of a hammer, - what disorder has overtaken the treasury? This place was always regarded as the epitome of control

Radomir lifted his gaze steadily. His face betrayed no emotion, but his careful tone revealed his wariness.

- We are implementing a new directive from Prince Alexander, Counselor. His Majesty has ordered a reform of the treasury

- Reform? - Oleg echoed, raising an eyebrow, his voice tinged with a faint trace of disbelief. - And what grand changes has he decreed?

Radomir held a deliberate pause before offering a succinct explanation.

- We are creating a unified registry of taxes and duties, consolidating data from all the lands. The prince has also instructed us to compile lists of tax collectors and treasurers, intending to meet with them personally. His goal is to eliminate leaks in funds and ensure transparency in the treasury

Oleg tilted his head slightly as though weighing the implications of this statement. His eyes glinted with a cold light.

- Ambitious. And all this... in such uncertain times? Aren't you worried, Radomir, that such changes might provoke the displeasure of the boyars?

The treasurer stood firm under the challenge.

- Counselor, discontent is inevitable with any reform. However, the prince has shown resolve in his decision, and my task is to carry it out

Oleg crossed his arms, his scrutinizing gaze fixed on Radomir. His voice, though restrained, carried an undercurrent of provocation.

- Do you think these reforms will last? Determination is commendable, but it's meaningless without time and support. And time... - he paused, letting the weight of his words linger, - time is often merciless to overly bold designs

Radomir inclined his head slightly, replying in a calm yet firm tone.

- Counselor, time tests all things. But Prince Alexander has already demonstrated his understanding of its value. He moves quickly without losing attention to detail, and his support grows. This is not mere youthful fervor; it is calculation

Oleg held Radomir's gaze, as if searching for cracks in the treasurer's poised confidence.

- And what else has our prince decided? - he asked, his voice tinged with a faint trace of irritation.

Radomir furrowed his brow slightly, his movements deliberate as he retrieved a scroll bearing Alexander's seal.

- Here, Counselor. A new decree, issued just recently

- Another decree? - Oleg accepted the scroll, unrolling it with deliberate slowness. - Treasury reform, and now something else? Intriguing

His eyes scanned the lines of the text, and his expression grew darker with each word. He finished reading, folded the scroll, and gripped it tighter than necessary. The skin on his fingers whitened under the pressure.

- Support of the clergy. Orphanages, - he said slowly, as if tasting these words. - Illarion... It was not enough for him that we approved his monastery schools at the meeting. Now he convinced the prince to support this too.

Radomir calmly set aside another stack of scrolls. His gaze remained impassive, yet there was a quiet firmness in it.

- Counselor Oleg, this is His Majesty's decree, - he said evenly, inclining his head just slightly. - The Metropolitan may have played a role, but the prince himself made the decision. It is his initiative driving these changes

Oleg squinted, his icy stare piercing Radomir, yet the treasurer held his ground flawlessly. There was more strength in his calm demeanor than in any words.

- So, this is the prince's initiative? - Oleg clarified slowly, his tone as if speaking aloud to himself. - Caring for the people... Too ambitious to be merely an act of goodwill. What could Illarion have offered to so captivate the young prince?

For a moment, silence filled the hall, broken only by the scratch of pens and the rustle of parchment. Radomir used the pause to again emphasize his respect for Alexander's reforms.

- Counselor, our prince is young, but his decisions are mature. He understands that without the trust of the people and the clergy, any reforms are impossible. Orphanages are not mere charity; they are a way to strengthen the ruler's power and trust among his people, - he said, carefully emphasizing the key points.

Oleg briefly closed his eyes, suppressing a flash of irritation. When he looked at Radomir again, his voice was cold.

- The trust of the people... That is too naive a goal. I am certain this isn't just the prince's doing. Or do you truly believe he acts independently, without anyone's influence?

Radomir remained composed, though there was a faint hint of amusement in his voice.

- I believe that our prince listens to advice but makes his own decisions. His support is growing, as is his authority, Counselor.

These words carried a subtle challenge, which Oleg did not miss. He focused once more on his own thoughts, calculating his next move. - If the prince truly initiated these reforms himself, how far is he willing to go? Or is someone else pulling the strings behind him? he pondered, his expression darkening inwardly

Finally, he broke the silence with a short command:

- Radomir, delay the execution of the decree. I will speak with the prince personally

Radomir allowed himself a slight smile as he handed over the scroll, replying with deliberate respect:

- Of course, Counselor. I am certain His Majesty will be glad to discuss his plans

Oleg grabbed the scroll and walked briskly toward the exit. His movements were precise, but behind his decisiveness lay the weight of unresolved questions. Near the door, he stopped, turned back, and shot Radomir a piercing look.

- I'll be back soon, - he said, his voice void of threat, containing only a dry statement of fact.

As he closed the door behind him, it felt as though he left his doubts in that room. Yet the unease lingered, following him like a shadow.

Walking across the courtyard of the detinets, Oleg pondered the situation, his thoughts racing as he clenched the scroll tightly in his hand.

- If young Prince Alexander truly initiated these reforms, how far is he willing to go? Or is someone pulling the strings behind him? Perhaps his ambitions will open new opportunities for me. But for now, it's better to slow down the implementation of this decree and the reforms altogether

His measured footsteps echoed across the stones, yet each step carried the weight of his thoughts.

- How does the young prince intend to justify such vast expenditures on the clergy? We already allocate two thousand grivnas to them, and now another thousand? The treasury is gasping for air, yet he throws his generosity around. He still has much to learn if he wants to keep that throne, - he thought, gritting his teeth.

A thin breeze swept through the courtyard, rustling the feathers on the guards' helmets. The usually lively atmosphere had grown strangely quiet. Merchants had disappeared, and servants seemed to melt into the shadows. Even the guards at the gates were barely visible. Oleg unconsciously slowed his pace. Something felt off. A growing sense of unease crept over him.

Ahead, as though emerging from the shadows, stood a soldier of the prince's retinue. His face was obscured beneath his helmet, and his movements were unnervingly precise, almost mechanical. In his hands, he held a bundle.

- Counselor Oleg, a letter for you, - the soldier said evenly, extending the parcel.

Oleg frowned and took the bundle slowly, his eyes narrowing as he examined the retainer. The gestures, the tone - it all seemed eerily familiar yet detached, as though rehearsed.

- Who sent this? - he demanded sharply, but the soldier merely bowed slightly, turned, and disappeared around the nearest corner.

Oleg's frown deepened as his gaze lingered on the now-empty courtyard. Everything around him seemed unnaturally still, as if suspended in time. The shadows of the buildings stretched long, almost watching him, and the air felt charged with an unseen presence.

He looked down at the parcel. The seal was simple, without any insignia. The plainness and anonymous precision of its presentation sent a chill down his spine. This wasn't a blatant threat - it was a calculated message meant to unnerve him, to make him feel exposed.

- What kind of intrigue is this now? - he muttered, as the cool breeze sent a shiver up his spine.

For a moment, his fingers hesitated, gripping the parcel tightly. Not fear, not trembling - just a tense readiness for the unknown. Over the years, Oleg had grown accustomed to threats, schemes, and attempts at coercion. But this was different. This letter, delivered in such a manner, carried the weight of a mind as calculating as his own.

He refrained from opening it immediately. Instead, his sharp mind raced through potential sources. - The clergy? No, their methods are more overt. The boyars? Unlikely - this was too direct for their cautious tendencies. Then who? - The answer lay hidden, but Oleg was in no rush to draw conclusions.

Finally, with a barely audible sigh, he broke the seal. The parchment unrolled with a faint rustle. His eyes skimmed the lines swiftly, but halfway through, the text began pressing on him like an invisible weight.

The words revealed details he believed long buried: tax manipulations, falsified accounts, secret dealings with merchants. Every piece of information was disturbingly accurate. This wasn't just a threat - it was a statement of dominance, an assertion that someone held all the cards.

His heart didn't race, and his gaze didn't dart across the text. Oleg knew the cost of panic - it only hastened defeat. Instead, his eyes grew heavy with thought, and his hands, accustomed to holding scrolls, tightened around the letter.

- A meticulously gathered dossier, - he mused. - Not a single wasted word. Whoever this is isn't merely threatening - they are certain of their advantage

At the bottom of the letter was a brief, almost mocking postscript: support Prince Alexander's decree for orphanages. Otherwise, the full content of this letter would be delivered to Alexander, the boyars, and even the clergy.

For a long moment, Oleg stood still. His expression betrayed no emotion, but his fingers unconsciously crumpled the edge of the parchment. Memories flared: a younger, more audacious Oleg presenting falsified reports to Yaroslav the Wise, confident in his triumph. Now, that same past had become the snare someone was using against him.

- So, it's finally come to this... - he whispered, though his voice carried no despair. Only a trace of weariness and irritation.

He slowly scanned the courtyard, as if expecting the shadows to come alive. No one appeared. The world around him remained as empty as it had been, yet every detail now seemed part of a larger, unseen plan.

- Someone is trying to move me like a piece on their chessboard, - he murmured to himself. His voice was steady, but the cold determination beneath it was unmistakable. - But they forget - I'm no pawn. I'm a player

His mind raced, searching for answers. Illarion? No, too obvious. Sviatoslav? Unlikely. Then who? The image of a man, always hidden yet always present, began forming in his thoughts.

- It's him... the hidden advisor, - he exhaled, clutching the letter tightly. Memories of that enigmatic figure, indispensable to Yaroslav the Wise, flooded back. No one knew his true name or face. No one except Yaroslav.

- Still as audacious as ever, - he muttered. - He thinks he can keep us on his strings. How gravely mistaken he is

His anger, like molten metal, cooled into hardened resolve. Oleg, suppressing the faint tremor in his hands, folded the letter sharply and tucked it into his cloak. He understood now: this wasn't just an adversary, but a cunning and formidable force that demanded respect. His fear and doubt gave way to a chilling analysis.

- Is the young prince already gathering allies? - he whispered, a bitter smile curling his lips. - Ambitious. But I didn't hold onto my position all these years to be easily cast aside. It won't be so simple

Oleg knew his task now was to keep this situation under control. He remained a pivotal figure on the council, representing the boyars' interests, and he understood that every reform Alexander proposed chipped away at their privileges. If he yielded now, it would mark the beginning of the end. His influence would crumble, and with it, everything he had built.

His gaze lingered on the letter in his hands. The parchment felt like a burning brand, each word a calculated strike against his carefully constructed life. Yet, instead of succumbing to rage, Oleg allowed his mind to sharpen further. This wasn't a battle of emotions - it was a war of intellects.

- If this reaches the prince or the boyars, I'll lose everything, - he thought, breathing heavily. - I cannot let that happen. Never

As if doused in cold water, clarity returned to him. He had to act. There was still time to turn the tide. His fear receded, replaced by cold calculation.

Oleg spun on his heel and strode back toward the treasury. His steps were precise, every movement deliberate. Hesitation was gone. The time for reflection had passed - now was the time for action.

As Oleg entered the treasury hall, the door closed behind him with a resounding thud. His steps were quick, his movements sharp, as if he were striving to contain the simmering frustration within. It seemed as though the entire hall could feel his mood: work momentarily halted, the air growing heavy with tension.

Radomir, standing by the central table, looked up, immediately sensing the shift in the counselor's demeanor. His gaze remained calm, but a flicker of understanding crossed his mind. Oleg had returned too quickly to have met with the prince. And not just returned - he seemed to have lost some of his unyielding resolve.

As Oleg approached the table, Radomir watched him closely, concealing his thoughts behind a composed expression. Yet inwardly, everything was becoming clear. From the moment Vaarlam had delivered the prince's decree, Radomir had suspected that someone highly skilled, someone adept at wielding influence subtly, was guiding Alexander. The Hidden Advisor. The very person who had helped Yaroslav the Wise remain an unshakable ruler.

And now, Oleg seemed forced to swallow his pride - a tacit confirmation of Radomir's suspicions.

- Counselor Oleg, - Radomir said in a neutral tone, his voice betraying neither tension nor amusement. - Is everything resolved?

His question sounded polite, but there was an undercurrent of subtle implication that Oleg didn't miss. The counselor held Radomir's gaze for a moment, as if gauging how much he truly knew.

- None of your concern, - Oleg retorted coldly, placing the scroll on the table. - Execute the prince's orders

Radomir calmly picked up the document, unrolling it with a deliberate slowness. His eyes quickly scanned the lines, though he already knew the decree would remain unchanged. Inside, he felt a quiet satisfaction: yet another step in the series of changes being orchestrated by this "Hidden Advisor."

- Of course, Counselor, - Radomir replied evenly, with no trace of sarcasm, though a note of confidence in his tone didn't escape Oleg's notice.

Oleg stood still, his fists clenched at his sides. His shoulders betrayed his suppressed irritation, but he refused to let it show. With a sharp motion, he turned on his heel. His footsteps echoed loudly as he strode across the dimly lit hall. He didn't bother to look back or say another word.

The door to the treasury slammed shut behind him as suddenly as it had opened. Silence descended once more, broken only by the cautious scratching of quills and muted whispers. Everyone understood: Oleg had tried to challenge the prince's decree but had been forced to relent.

Radomir, calmly picking up another scroll, allowed himself a brief sigh of relief. A faint, almost imperceptible smile touched his lips. The truth was now undeniable: young Alexander had secured the backing of someone far more formidable - the Hidden Advisor.

- Step by step, - Radomir murmured under his breath, sifting through the scrolls. - The prince is on the right path. And Oleg knows it. But what will he do next?

When Oleg stepped out of the treasury, the detinets greeted him with its usual bustle. At the main gates, guards inspected arriving merchants, servants hurried past with bundles of firewood, and a blacksmith's cart rumbled noisily across the square. Yet, for Oleg, it all faded into a background blur. His thoughts were elsewhere. Every shadow seemed to conceal a threat, every glance carried a warning.

He stopped near the gates, raising his eyes to the silhouette of St. Sophia Cathedral. Its golden domes, bathed in the light of the setting sun, towered over the city as if to remind him of an untouchable power. It was a symbol of Alexander's new authority, one that was solidifying far too quickly.

- Prince... - Oleg muttered through gritted teeth, his voice low and hoarse like a whisper carried by the wind. - You've won this time, but your reign has just begun

A storm raged within him. His thoughts collided: cold calculations clashed with wounded pride. He knew that Alexander had already begun to weave a formidable network of allies - Sviatoslav, Illarion, Radomir, and the Hidden Advisor.

They were all becoming parts of this rapidly growing influence. But Oleg had no intention of merely standing by as his own position eroded. He was ready to fight - with cunning, manipulation, or force if necessary.

His gaze drifted to the crowd in the square. Townsfolk bustled about, preparing for the upcoming coronation. In three days, Alexander would officially be crowned Grand Prince. That day was meant to symbolize his ultimate victory, but in Oleg's mind, a different scenario was taking shape.

- The coronation... - he whispered to himself, a thin, almost sinister smile appearing on his lips. - That's when I'll show you, Prince, that your rule is far from secure

He considered potential allies among the boyars whose discontent could be turned to his advantage. To strike at the prince during his moment of triumph, a precise and powerful blow was needed, supported by influential figures. Hidden connections had always been Oleg's strength, and he knew how to use them.

- Vasily Svyatopolkovich, - he thought. - A guardian of traditions who barely tolerates any change. He just needs a reminder of how the prince's reforms threaten the boyars' privileges, and he'll become my mouthpiece at the coronation

His thoughts shifted to another key ally:

- Svyatoslav Polovetsky. His retinue is a force that could alter the outcome of any conflict. Alexander wants to strengthen the clergy? Svyatoslav won't like that. He needs to see a warrior prince, not a patron of monks

Oleg stopped by his carriage, mentally piecing together the details of his plot. Vasily and Svyatoslav could become the perfect duo to sow discord. One as the voice of boyar outrage, the other as the symbol of military might. With the right push, they could turn the coronation into a battleground.

- The Hidden Advisor... - Oleg thought, clenching his teeth. - He's too clever to leave me without moves. But even he won't be able to interfere quickly if I execute this correctly

Now Oleg had a clear goal. He ordered his driver to set off, ready to act with calculated ruthlessness.

- We'll strike where Alexander least expects it, - he muttered. - And none of his allies will see it coming

Oleg was determined to turn the coronation into an arena where the struggle for power would begin anew.