When the World Resists Change

A couple of hours after the negotiations, Nikodim sat on a bench in the bathhouse antechamber, leaning against the cold wall. He barely noticed the faint crackling of the stove and the humid warmth slowly filling the room. The scent of resin and a hint of smoke emanated from the wooden walls. The light from oil lamps reflected in damp patches on the floor.

His thoughts kept returning to the evening negotiations.

- Why did Alexander agree so quickly? It's too suspicious... - Nikodim ran a hand over his face. He knew that such agreements always hid traps.

The door creaked, and Lev Komnin entered the antechamber. His movements were swift and confident, like someone accustomed to command on the battlefield. He rubbed his hands together to ward off the cold and, glancing around the room, remarked curtly:

- Still brooding over those talks, magister? Or have you decided to test this local "cleansing ritual" after all? - There was a hint of disdain in his voice.

Nikodim raised his eyes and smirked crookedly.

- What do you think? When an opponent agrees without a fight, it usually means he's preparing a trap. It all went too smoothly to be genuine

Lev chuckled, pulling off his travel cloak.

- A pup trying to play wolf. The young always take risks until they get their first serious blow. That's him. Trying to fool us with his calm

- No, - Nikodim shook his head. - This youth isn't so simple. His decisiveness and caution are too precisely balanced. He's playing a long game. We need to understand his strategy before it's too late

At that moment, Agafiy Scholastikos, trade representative Sebastian Phokas, and Eustathios Kallistratos, the delegation's scribe, entered the room. Agafiy immediately noticed the humid air and the scent of wood. He crossed his arms over his chest, frowning as he examined the walls.

- Still talking about that young prince? - he grumbled disapprovingly. - Barbarians. One ruler replaces another, like the wind sweeping dust across the steppe. Why give him so much attention?

Nikodim slowly stood and approached the table where a jug of warm water stood.

- That's precisely why he's dangerous, - he said while pouring the water into small cups. - Alexander understands that his land's strength depends on a fragile balance. He won't squander alliances lightly. If we aren't careful, he'll twist this deal until we're the ones caught in his grasp

Agafiy grimaced but said nothing. Lev narrowed his eyes and sat on a bench, speaking in a low voice:

- He's no fool. They clearly prepared for these talks. It seems the prince knows our games all too well

Their conversation was interrupted by the entrance of a servant, who bowed deeply and announced:

- The bath is ready, gentlemen

Lev stood, stretching as he began removing his outer clothing. He took off his coat, remaining in a light undershirt.

- Well, magister, let's see how strong Rus' is in this "cleansing procedure."

Servants brought towels, and the men, stripped down to their shirts and undergarments, entered the steam room. Heat struck them in a dense wave, searing their skin. The walls, soaked with moisture and resin, reflected the light of the lamps. The stones in the stove glowed red-hot, and thick clouds of steam rose to the ceiling. The servants cautiously poured more water onto the stones, making the air even heavier and more stifling.

Sebastian Phokas wiped his face irritably.

- Do they really enjoy this heat? No oils, no soft fabrics... just steam and burning stones

Lev glanced back at him with a smirk.

- This isn't a thermae, Phokas. Everything here is simpler, rougher. They believe that both body and spirit are purified through trials

Agafiy scowled as he sat on a wooden bench.

- Trials? More like torture. Byzantium wouldn't understand such customs

Nikodim calmly took a seat beside him.

- Don't be so quick to underestimate their traditions. For Rus', this is purification not just of the body but of the spirit. They're used to surviving both cold and heat, in conditions that seem wild to us. That's their strength

Steam enveloped the room, but the conversation continued. A servant returned, offering herbal tea to ease the heat. Nikodim silently accepted a cup and took a sip.

- To us, they're barbarians, - he thought, glancing at the dissatisfied faces of his companions. - But if we're not cautious, these very barbarians might place us at the mercy of their terms

Lev, listening to the silence beyond the walls, remarked briefly:

- Tomorrow, things will become clearer. But tonight, I'd rather not think about negotiations

He splashed a bit of water onto the hot stones. The stove hissed sharply, and fresh clouds of steam enveloped the room.

Nikodim sank back into his thoughts. Beneath Alexander's calm lay ambition. If he was playing a long game, he hadn't yet revealed his strongest pieces.

- We must be prepared, - the magister murmured quietly, almost to himself. - Loyalty in this alliance won't last long if power tips the scales...

The hiss of the stove and the sound of labored breathing filled the steam room, as time stretched under the weight of heat and thoughts about the coming day.

In every guesthouse meant for foreign delegations, there were lighter bathhouses for men and spacious bathing pools for women. These facilities were tailored to the customs of the visitors: warm water, herbal infusions, and the gentle glow of lamps created an atmosphere of peace. Yaroslav the Wise understood that diplomacy required respect for the cultural traditions of allies.

Byzantine, Polish, and Hungarian noblewomen were accustomed to calm, almost ceremonial baths with fragrant herbal infusions and soft towels. Rus' bathing traditions - with their suffocating steam and abrupt dousing in icy water - seemed far too harsh to them.

During Yaroslav's reign, Kyiv became a hub for diplomatic visits, and these new traditions became a staple of guesthouses. Baths with aromatic herbs for women and milder steam rooms for men became symbols of respect for foreign cultures. Such details strengthened trust and demonstrated that Rus' sought to be not only a powerful but also a cultured partner.

While the men discussed politics in the hot steam room, Sofia and Clio were resting in the bathing chamber for women from foreign delegations.

A haze of steam concealed the arches of the bathing chamber, lazily spreading across the floor. The air was filled with the aromas of mint and thyme, with a faint bitterness of lavender - a scent Sofia associated with the baths of Byzantium, used for cleansing and relaxation. The light from copper lamps trembled on the damp walls, casting intricate shadows resembling ancient ornaments.

Everything here was designed for the guests' convenience: warm water, aromatic oils, and a calm atmosphere. Sofia knew that Grand Prince Yaroslav the Wise understood the importance of diplomacy and tried to create conditions where allies would feel almost at home. However, for her, this setting seemed like an illusion, concealing unknown threats.

Sofia immersed herself in the hot water, her loose hair gently spreading across the surface like shadows of past worries. Her eyes, wandering across the patterns on the walls, caught fleeting silhouettes - the tension did not disappear, as if the space itself preserved its traces.

Clio, on the other hand, allowed herself to relax. She leaned back against the edge of the pool and closed her eyes, a light smile playing on her lips. The girl was content - this bath reminded her of the tranquility of imperial thermae, with their soft light and quiet atmosphere.

- We are far from home... - Clio said softly, as if to herself, but her voice echoed gently in the steamy silence. Her voice sounded soft and lazy, as though she were speaking through a light dream. - Do you think they trust us?

Sofia's fingers glided through the water, and sprigs of thyme began to slowly swirl in a circle. She pondered but did not allow herself to relax. She had been taught to see danger even where others did not.

- Trust us? In this world, no one trusts anyone - she answered quietly. - Especially here

Clio straightened and shook her damp hair, her large eyes curiously focusing on her cousin.

- Don't you think they fear us less than we fear them? - she asked with a light smile. - They probably see us as pampered

Sofia allowed herself a short smirk.

- Maybe. But don't be deceived. Everyone here hides their true intentions. No one reveals their real face until the right moment

Clio relaxed again and leaned back, her fingers trailing over the water's surface, leaving a gentle ripple behind.

- Will we really have to play by their rules? - she said thoughtfully, more out of curiosity than fear.

Sofia exhaled slowly. The lamp light danced across her face in flickering reflections. Clio did not understand the full complexity of the situation. Byzantium was accustomed to intrigues, but Sofia knew that even here, everything was decided behind the scenes. She lowered her gaze and spoke with quiet confidence:

- No one here expects submission from us, but they will not forgive weakness either. Those who lead the game never show their hand

Clio frowned slightly, but soon her face softened again. She closed her eyes and smiled as if trying to forget all her worries.

- It's nice here - Clio whispered softly, savoring each word. - At least for a while, we can forget about negotiations

Sofia shook her head slightly and ran her hand across the water. Her gaze once again moved to the shadows on the walls. For her, peace was always an illusion.

- We are not here to relax - she said quietly. Her voice sounded muted in the warm, humid air.

Clio slightly opened her eyes and looked at her cousin with gentle reproach.

- You can't even let go of your worries here? - she asked softly. - Always on guard. Doesn't it wear you down?

Sofia paused for a moment, reflecting. She had been taught that she must always stay one step ahead of others.

- If you're not a step ahead, someone will inevitably overtake you - she finally replied. - We are strangers here. And strangers are never trusted

Clio shrugged lightly and leaned back again against the edge of the pool.

- Maybe so, but I just want to forget about politics for a little while

Sofia's hand moved through the water, and the reflection of the lamps shattered into glimmering fragments. The steam rose slowly, dissolving the outlines of the arches in a misty haze. An almost imperceptible tension lingered in the air - something only she could feel.

Outside, it was quiet, save for the faint rustle of servant girls' footsteps echoing through the corridors like a distant summons to reality, temporarily forgotten in the warmth of the bath. Sofia ran her hand through the water once more, watching the shadows from the lamps quiver on the pool's surface.

- Let her rest - she thought, glancing at Clio's relaxed face. - Someone has to stay on guard

The hot water eased the tension in her body, but it could not dispel the weight of her thoughts. The momentary calm continued as the steam drifted along the walls, and the shadows performed their endless dance.

The negotiations were behind them, but the game continued. Each participant in that game contemplated their next move on this deep evening. Somewhere beyond the walls of the guesthouse, in the prince's palace, Alexander was preparing for decisions that would strengthen his power.

After the tense evening negotiations with the Byzantines, Alexander headed to his chambers. A modest Lenten meal awaited him on the table. The Great Fast dictated its rules, even for the prince.

Alexander was accustomed to this abstinence, but he knew that soon, on the Annunciation, he would be able to allow himself some fish - only two days remained until the feast and his coronation. However, thoughts of the upcoming ceremonies briefly gave way to another need.

Alexander set the spoon aside and leaned back against the high backrest of his chair. His gaze wandered around the room, but his thoughts were far beyond its walls. He quietly muttered, as if to himself:

- Empires don't fall overnight. They rot from within. Today, they take a step forward, and tomorrow, they might strike from behind... But not this time. They need an alliance with us more than we need their support

Even without their backing, Alexander could apply all the modern knowledge and technologies available to him to strengthen his state and achieve superiority. He ran his hand over the scar on his side, wincing slightly as he reflected. There was no war, but the struggle for power and reforms was proving no less arduous.

Alexander slowly rose from the table, his muscles aching in response to the movement. He stretched to relieve the stiffness in his body and ran his hand over the scar on his side, as if testing whether it would remind him of itself once again.

He was growing impatient for immediate results, which he had expected due to his knowledge. Yet the world demanded patience and the ability to maneuver between the ambitions of boyars and allies. Every step had to be measured precisely to avoid triggering another wave of chaos.

He remembered how, in the early days of his reign, he had thought:

- It's all just a system that lacks proper adjustment. I'll reorganize the army, implement modern administrative methods, reform laws and the tax system. Problems will disappear one by one. Kyiv will become an economic and military center, and Rus' will rise to unprecedented heights

Alexander sighed heavily. He was walking a tightrope, where any misstep could cause a collapse - loss of the boyars' trust, sabotage of reforms, or a breakdown of authority. Changing the structure without destroying it was proving far more challenging than any military campaign. Yet he had already begun to move forward.

His initial reforms were gradually being implemented, though they met considerable resistance. Schools attached to monasteries provoked the clergy's displeasure; fortifications along the borders sparked disputes with the boyars; and even orphanages became a pretext for political intrigue.

He had heard from Stanislav that Oleg had tried to sabotage his plans for treasury reform. However, the chief treasurer, senior boyar Radomir, remained loyal to the prince's authority and thwarted Oleg's efforts. Without supporters in the council and key positions, all of Alexander's endeavors would have remained mere dreams.

He ran his hand over the scar again, frowned, and smirked:

- I thought I could develop Rus' like a strategy game. Quickly and efficiently - reforms, new technologies, trade. Right... as if. These boyars play by their own rules. Everything here is built on personal ties, suspicions, and struggles for influence. The entire system is riddled with hidden threats

Alexander leaned heavily on the table.

- Here, every stone holds its place only because people fear to move it - he muttered under his breath. - Reforms here are like cracks in a cliff. One careless shift of the old order, and everything collapses like an avalanche. One wrong move, and the power will bury me beneath it

His thoughts shifted to resolve. Everything here had to be earned - trust, authority, time. Alexander lifted his head, regaining his composure, and firmly headed toward the door. The world did not yield to ultimatums or change with a snap of the fingers. Yet despite this, he felt that he had chosen the right path. All he needed was patience.

His gaze was cold and focused - every aspect of him now reflected the determination to regain full control. Alexander straightened and decisively walked toward the door, not rushing but moving with purpose.

As he opened the door, Alexander met the watchful gazes of Mstislav and Mirnomir - loyal warriors always alert to danger. Their figures stood clearly outlined in the dim light. Mstislav slightly inclined his head in a sign of respect. Meeting their eyes, Alexander calmly said:

- Prepare the bath for me. Have the servants take care of it

- Yes, my prince

Mstislav gave a short nod and was the first to leave his post, heading toward the senior servant. Mirnomir remained in place, cautiously scanning the shadowed corridor - guarding the prince required constant vigilance.

News of Alexander's intent to visit the bathhouse quickly spread through the prince's residence. In his chambers, Stanislav the Great, reflecting on the details of the negotiations, smirked upon hearing about it from the guards. Marriage and alliance with Byzantium were not matters to be decided in haste. He believed the prince had acted too quickly.

- He resolves issues of such magnitude too fast - thought Stanislav, running his hand along the hilt of his sword. - Alliances and marriages demand more than just a show of determination. Rush it, and you'll walk straight into a trap

Stanislav slowly stood and paced the room. He was troubled not only by the negotiations with the Byzantines. The prince's decisiveness raised questions - everything had happened too quickly.

- Inform the prince that I intend to visit him - Stanislav instructed one of the servants, masking his concern with a calm tone.

As one of the most influential and loyal senior boyars of Rus', Stanislav could not afford to sit idle. He understood too well the cost of delay in such times. The results of the recent negotiations were kept under strict secrecy, and most of the boyars were not privy to them.

Stanislav did not fear Byzantium. In the past, through Prince Vsevolod, they had tried to solidify their influence over Rus', yet they had failed. The Byzantines could act subtly and cunningly, but Rus' had repeatedly demonstrated its independence. However, Stanislav was more concerned with internal division, which continued to weaken the nation. He knew that internal enemies were always more dangerous than external ones.

Oleg, closely connected to the autonomists, had likely already reported the outcomes of the negotiations to their leaders. These rumors, if they spread, would become a weapon in the hands of rebellious boyars - an ideal opportunity to accuse the prince of dependence on Byzantium.

The talk could reach the lesser boyars and common folk. In Novgorod and Polotsk, such rumors could fuel the drive for autonomy. Within a year or two, intrigues and tensions could escalate into a full-blown crisis.

Stanislav understood that immediate action was needed to prevent this. He planned to discuss not only the consequences of Alexander's decisions but also measures to strengthen the prince's position.

After some time, Stanislav descended into the lower level of the prince's chambers. The air grew thick and heavy, as if the very walls and beams breathed heat. The darkened oak supports hung low, filling the space with the scents of resin, soot, and hot wood. The creaking floorboards echoed dully, while a distant, lazy hiss from the stove signaled that the prince was already steaming, filling the lower chamber with clouds of vapor.

Soon, two guards came into view - Mstislav and Mirnomir. They stood before the entrance to the antechamber, upright but without excessive tension. Their faces glistened with sweat, though their vigilant gazes showed they remained fully alert. Upon seeing Stanislav, they simultaneously placed a hand to their chests in greeting.

- Commander Stanislav, the prince is expecting you, - Mstislav said calmly, his voice muffled in the dense air.

Stanislav gave a short nod.

- How long has the prince been here? - he asked Mstislav evenly.

- About half an hour, - the guard replied. - He is waiting for you, commander

Mirnomir inclined his head slightly, indicating that the way was clear. Stanislav nodded again and stepped forward, crossing the threshold into the antechamber. The heat intensified. The steam pressed heavily on his chest, and the floorboards creaked faintly beneath his feet.

Stanislav removed his long linen shirt and hung it on a wooden hook by the wall. He then placed his belt and trousers on the nearby bench. Wrapping a piece of cloth around his waist, he paused for a moment, wiping sweat from his face as droplets trickled down his neck and shoulders.

Taking a deep breath, he pushed open the door to the main steam room. As he entered, warm, dense steam enveloped his body, making each breath an effort. The floor was damp, and wisps of vapor clung to the walls. In the distance, near the stove, glowing stones emitted a faint red light. Streams of steam slowly crawled along the floor, while droplets rolled down the walls.

Alexander sat on a wide wooden bench, steam wrapping around his body, causing sweat to stream down his shoulders and chest. The floorboards creaked softly underfoot, and a faint haze filled the room. He held a ladle in his hand, his eyes gleaming in the light of the oil lamps. When his gaze met Stanislav's, it was steady and sharp, like a honed blade.

Stanislav stepped forward, taking a seat across from the prince, inhaling the humid air with effort. Alexander studied him intently, a flash of cold determination in his eyes. His voice, though quiet, carried an unmistakable firmness:

- You have doubts. I can see it. Speak plainly. I will try to put your fears to rest

Stanislav adjusted his posture, wiping his brow and exhaling slowly.

- I have two concerns. The first is about the Byzantines. Everything is moving too fast. Their concessions seem advantageous: partial spiritual independence, equal terms in trade and military cooperation. Yes, they've weakened, but such offers always conceal traps. Byzantium is a master of hidden schemes. It makes me wary

Alexander listened attentively and then spoke in a calm, measured tone:

- Byzantium does indeed thrive on intrigue. But right now, their position is precarious. They don't have time to play elaborate games with us - they're barely holding onto their power amidst conspiracies and revolts. Frequent changes of emperors, struggles to keep even their allies loyal... They need an alliance with Rus' more than we need their support

Stanislav rubbed his chin thoughtfully, nodding as though carefully weighing each word.

- True enough... but Byzantium rarely fights openly. Their weapons are gold, merchants, and clerics. They'll weave their web where we least expect it. Over time, their influence could take root in places we don't anticipate

Alexander inclined his head slightly, his expression remaining serious:

- They won't succeed. The key is that we've gained something significant: partial spiritual independence and equal trading conditions. Yes, merchants and boyars have their own interests, but no one will allow Constantinople to dictate terms to us. Right now, their priority is to secure us as allies rather than to control us. Every craftsman or merchant who comes here will be focused on personal gain, operating within our rules. They simply lack the strength to play their game here

Stanislav smirked slightly but kept his gaze cautious. He exhaled slowly and continued:

- That makes sense. Still, we must keep a close watch on them. The Byzantines don't trouble me greatly - we've secured what we needed, and we have the upper hand here. But the real threat lies elsewhere. The autonomists

Alexander's expression darkened, his brow furrowing. He understood that the autonomists were not just a faction of boyars but a network of regional rulers eager for power and independence. They wouldn't challenge him openly, preferring to exert pressure through the veche and lesser officials. Their goal was clear - to weaken central authority and gain control over taxes, laws, and the appointment of military governors.

Fixing his gaze on Stanislav, Alexander quietly asked:

- How strong is their influence? Which regions particularly support the autonomists?

Stanislav nodded slightly, approving the prince's quick grasp of the situation. He could see that Alexander understood - Byzantium posed a lesser threat compared to internal challenges:

- Primarily Polotsk and Novgorod. Your cousin Vseslav Bryachislavich rules in Polotsk. He's been acting like an independent ruler for a long time - conducting his own trade with the Baltic lands and managing his domain with little regard for the central authority. The Novgorod veche also clings to its autonomy, balancing between the boyars and the merchant class

Stanislav ran a hand over his face before continuing:

- The Galician boyars are similarly inclined toward independence - they're used to governing their lands without interference from Kyiv. In the Rostov-Suzdal region, actual power lies with the local boyars, even though your nephew Rostislav Vladimirovich holds the title there. He lacks authority, and for now, the boyars are merely using him as a figurehead to cover their own interests

Alexander fell into thought, his gaze becoming distant. He recalled the history he had studied in his own time. His cousin Vseslav would become known as The Sorcerer - a legendary figure, but also dangerous, with a reputation as a commander and politician who often acted against Kyiv's interests.

His nephew Rostislav Vladimirovich, currently ruling in the Rostov-Suzdal lands, would one day become the Prince of Tmutarakan and prove himself to be a capable leader. Rostislav needed the chance to grow and strengthen his position in his principality - he could become a reliable ally in the future. However, dealing with Vseslav was a more complex issue. Alexander didn't yet know how to handle him.

Armed with his knowledge of modern management techniques and approaches to internal politics, Alexander began forming a plan. Fighting for every land and imposing power by force would be a mistake - it would only spark another wave of civil war. He pondered the situation carefully:

- Do I yield some autonomy to Polotsk and Novgorod, or take the risk of imposing my will? If I deny them freedom now, conflicts might escalate too quickly. But time may still be on my side… The question is, how much of it do I have?

In the end, Alexander decided to focus on developing his key strongholds: Kyiv, Chernihiv, Pereyaslavl, Volhynia, the Turiv-Pinsk lands, Smolensk, and the Rostov-Suzdal region.

His strategy was straightforward - boost the economy, strengthen centralized power through reforms, and build a powerful army. Once that foundation was secure, the influence of the autonomists would naturally weaken. A policy of initial concessions and pragmatism would give him the time needed to prepare Rus' for the challenges ahead. He planned to make Kyiv the jewel of the state, develop trade routes, and strengthen alliances with local boyars.

Turning to Stanislav, Alexander laid out his plan:

- I believe it would be wiser not to press Polotsk, Novgorod, and the other lands right away. Let them have a degree of freedom for now, while we fortify our position. Kyiv will become the economic center of Rus'. I'll focus on developing Chernihiv, Pereyaslavl, Volhynia, and other major territories. Once we have a strong economy and military, the autonomists won't be able to challenge us

Stanislav frowned and shook his head slowly.

- There is some logic in that. Development will strengthen your rule, but I wouldn't draw conclusions too quickly. The autonomists won't sit idle. Polotsk and Novgorod are key trade hubs. Vseslav has long-established ties with the Baltic lands, while Novgorod's merchants control the northern routes. As you develop your lands, they'll also be expanding their influence

Alexander narrowed his eyes:

- What would you suggest, then?

Stanislav ran a hand over his face and spoke in a serious tone. His gaze reflected a deep concern - he understood all too well how years of intrigue and political maneuvering could tear Rus' apart. A single misstep by the prince could lead to a complete fragmentation of the state.

- While we develop our lands, they'll be building alliances and leveraging their local power structures - through governors and veches. They know how to manipulate regional interests. However, if you establish firm control over key trade routes and the military, their options will shrink. We already have a major advantage. The alliance of loyal boyars I lead is nearly twice as strong as the autonomists

He paused briefly, wiping sweat from his face, and continued:

- And after the concessions made to Byzantium and the recognition of spiritual autonomy, Illarion will likely stand firmly behind you. He's dreamed of this for many years. The Church will become your pillar of support. But be warned - this support might be temporary if your decisions ever threaten their authority. Your position is strong now, my prince. But don't let your guard down - the risks are still there

Alexander reflected, his gaze darkening with thought.

- This gives us a solid position, but what risks are you referring to? - he asked with a focused intensity.

Stanislav let a pause linger for a moment, emphasizing the gravity of his response, before speaking firmly:

- Neutral boyar alliances. If they switch sides to support the autonomists, the balance could shift against us. In that case, civil war would become inevitable without further concessions

Alexander nodded slowly, understanding dawning in his eyes:

- You're right. Neutral alliances could indeed tip the scales. If they join the autonomists, the situation will become critical

Stanislav continued, watching the prince's reaction closely:

- Precisely. At the moment, several groups are on the sidelines, observing which way the balance will tilt. However, there are two particularly influential factions. Their nominal leaders are Supreme Voivode Ignat and advisor Miroslav

Stanislav paused briefly, then spoke calmly:

- Ignat leads the military elite - boyars from frontier regions who prioritize the defense of borders and stability. They need well-equipped forces and consistent attention to military affairs. Miroslav, on the other hand, represents the interests of the trade and artisan nobility. His allies are boyars and merchants who prioritize trade, the development of crafts, and the security of trade routes. Stability and order are more important to them than political struggles

Alexander regarded Stanislav thoughtfully.

- I haven't had the chance to speak seriously with Ignat yet. As for Miroslav, he only recently returned from Byzantium - I don't fully understand his true goals and interests. How can I bring them to my side?

Stanislav nodded, elaborating on the details:

- Ignat is a man of action. He expects results, not promises. If you strengthen the borders and ensure the troops are well-supplied, he'll gradually become your ally. However, gaining his support will take time and trust. Any sign of weakness, and his allies might turn to the autonomists

Stanislav paused briefly before continuing:

- Miroslav, on the other hand, is a more complex case. He and his circle need guarantees of stability. These people are extremely cautious. Any conflict or sudden change could drive them into a defensive stance. You'll need to demonstrate that your rule can protect their trade and industries. They won't engage in political games if they see you as a strong protector of their interests

Alexander pondered, each new decision feeling like a step on a tightrope stretched over an abyss. One misstep, and he would fall along with all of Rus'. He nodded thoughtfully:

- So, I need to show not only strength but also the ability to govern... But what about those who still remain doubtful?

Stanislav nodded approvingly:

- Exactly. Alliances can't be forced - they must be won through actions. You'll need to simultaneously develop the economy, demonstrate the benefits to loyal boyars, and negotiate carefully. It's not a quick process, but if you succeed, their leaders will eventually align with you on their own. Less talk, more action - that's what it takes. We're already strong, but with their support, we'll crush any attempt by the autonomists to undermine your rule

Alexander reflected on the immense complexity of the task ahead. Political relationships were woven into a dense network that could either strengthen or topple his power. Yet deep down, he was prepared for the struggle.

- Very well. We'll start with them. Then we'll deal with the rest. Do you know who else might play a key role?

Stanislav nodded:

- Of course. There are other, less influential groups. They're currently lying low, waiting to see which way the balance tips after the coronation. If we secure support from the strongest neutral alliances, the others will follow naturally. The key is to act methodically and maintain a steady course toward unification. Panic and hasty decisions will only complicate things

Alexander wiped his brow, feeling the stifling heat pressing down on his head and mixing with the intensity of his thoughts. Politics in Rus' reminded him of the steam room: too much heat could ignite a conflict, too little and power would lose its grip.

He understood that Rus' was a cauldron requiring constant attention. Every alliance and every boyar was like a burning stone - fail to manage them properly, and they could crush him under their pressure. Power here was always a battle against tension, where one could never relax for a moment.

Taking a deep breath, Alexander leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. The heat and strain left him slowly, like a weary army recovering after a long battle. He quietly murmured to himself:

- Alright... May the night be peaceful - while it still favors us

Stanislav nodded, his voice steady but with an undercurrent of caution in his final words:

- Indeed, prince. Tomorrow will bring a new day, but the world rarely forgives weakness. Even the wisest decision can become a disaster if not upheld with a firm hand

Alexander exhaled quietly, letting the words settle in the steam-filled silence. They had discussed nearly everything: Byzantium, the autonomists, and the neutral alliances. Every piece on the chessboard of power had been considered - except one.

The pro-princely alliance of boyars. As their leader, Stanislav had skillfully avoided this topic. He didn't see the need to rush - the time for a direct conversation had not yet come.

A wise commander knows that sometimes it's best to let an enemy or ally feel a false sense of freedom. Only then will a strike be truly decisive. Stanislav, sitting in the gentle haze of steam, watched the prince carefully. Alexander might not realize that his closest ally already held the strings that would soon need to be tightened.

The steam drifted lazily along the floor, like a symbol of the delicate game they were playing - one wrong move, and everything could collapse. But Stanislav was in no hurry; his time lay ahead.

- Rest, prince, - he said calmly, rising from the bench. - Tomorrow is a new day. You'll need to stand strong on it

Alexander nodded without replying. Politics would indeed wait, but not for long. The silence was filled only by the diminishing hiss of steam.

***

Thank you to everyone who reads!

In this chapter, I aimed to depict how bathing and related traditions were practiced in those times, both in Byzantium and on the lands of Kievan Rus'. I hope I managed to create an atmosphere that immerses readers in the past - so that you, along with Stanislav, could step into the steam room and feel the warmth enveloping you, hear the crackling of coals, and sense the mingling aroma of resin and moisture in the air.

My goal is not only to reveal the details of daily life but also to show that the world of this story is alive and dynamic. The events taking place don't revolve solely around Alexander. Every alliance, every agreement, and every careless word triggers a chain of consequences that affect other characters, their fates, and their decisions.

Working on the historical context has been a challenging task. To keep the narrative from becoming too dense, I had to simplify the political and social landscape of the time significantly. The focus remains on key players in the intrigues, but secondary characters will occasionally step into the spotlight. Their influence will become evident at critical moments, reminding readers that nothing happens in this world without reason.

One more note - due to upcoming studies and my work schedule, new chapters may be released less frequently - from every 2 - 3 days to every 3 - 5 days. I apologize for this and hope for your understanding.

Thank you for your support!