Loop Above the Ground

Stanislav fell silent for a moment, as if gathering his thoughts. A steady hum filled the dining hall - the rustling of clothes, the quiet voices of servants, the soft clink of wooden spoons against clay bowls.

Beyond the massive windows, the morning fog had not yet fully dissipated, blurring the outlines of the walls. Stanislav ran his finger along the rim of his cup and, leaning forward slightly, spoke with caution:

- There is one more person, my prince. Gleb of Turov. The governor of the Turov-Pinsk land... - Stanislav tilted his head slightly, and a note of caution crept into his voice. - If he takes your side, it will strengthen your power. But if not... then we will have another problem

Alexander frowned with interest, folding his hands on the table. Morning candlelight flickered across the polished wood. In the distance, one of the servants coughed softly, covering his mouth with his palm, but the sound only emphasized the silence that hung between them.

- The Turov-Pinsk land... Why is it so important? - he asked, trying to read between the lines of what Stanislav was leaving unsaid.

The voivode leaned forward slightly, his voice lower but firmer.

- The Turov-Pinsk land is a crossroads. A key strategic region, my prince. Along the Pripyat and its tributaries, merchants carry furs and wax, along the swamp trails - salt and iron. Caravans from the Polish Kingdom, the Czech Principality, and Hungary pass through it. And most importantly - its rivers lead directly to Novgorod. Whoever holds this land controls the gateway to the north and west

Alexander nodded thoughtfully. He could already see the advantage, but there was something wary in Stanislav's expression. The voivode continued, lowering his voice slightly:

- Gleb's support could open these routes for you. But it's not that simple. There are powerful people who do not want his power to grow

Alexander smirked, mentally noting: of course, how could there be no intrigue? The windows let in a chill - the morning wind crept through the gaps in the frames, whispering in the corners, playing with the candle flames in the candelabras. He exhaled slowly and asked:

- A local power struggle?

- Exactly. Gleb is not just a princely governor but also a Senior Boyar. That means he has enemies. One of them is Senior Boyar Stanimir of Lunynets

Stanislav paused briefly, then continued:

- He holds an important position in the region, controls part of the resources, and has the most influential boyars at his side. Outwardly, he acts within the law, citing the interests of the landowners. But that's just a cover. There is a careful game in his manner

Alexander watched the voivode closely.

- Is he connected to the autonomists?

- There's no direct proof yet. - Stanislav leaned forward slightly. - But he supports neither the autonomists nor the pro-princely alliance. Instead, he maneuvers between them, waiting to see whom it will be more beneficial to pledge allegiance to

Alexander raised an eyebrow slightly.

- Do you think he could become a threat?

Stanislav leaned forward, pausing for a moment, choosing his words.

- Stanimir is not an enemy, but he is not an ally either, - he said slowly. - He doesn't shout about independence, but every decision he makes is carefully calculated. As if testing how far he can go before someone stops him

The voivode paused briefly, then continued:

- Some say he is simply protecting local interests. Others - that he is waiting for the right moment to take the most advantageous side. He doesn't make rash moves, doesn't reveal his intentions, but that's exactly what makes him concerning

Alexander ran his finger along the edge of the table, feeling the smoothness of the polished wood. Traces of past feasts remained on the surface - dark rings from hot cups, occasional scratches. This table had witnessed many decisions that shaped the fate of these lands. He looked up:

- He is cautious. But if he senses an opportunity, he won't hesitate to act?

Stanislav nodded, but not immediately - first, he ran his tongue over his teeth, as if savoring a thought. Something flickered in his eyes, somewhere between amusement and quiet wariness, as if he already foresaw the possible consequences.

- Perhaps, for now, he doesn't want open confrontation. But in the future?.. - The voivode smirked. - In the future, he could end up anywhere

Alexander clenched his fingers, but not in the air - against the wood of the table. His knuckles whitened slightly, his nails scratched the smooth surface. When he spoke, there was a new depth in his voice - not just interest, but calculation.

- So, he plays his own game. And his goal is to maintain influence over the Turov-Pinsk land

- Exactly. If you strengthen Gleb, it will weaken his position. Stanimir will not tolerate anyone cutting off his resources and connections. It's important to act carefully: not to provoke him into hostility, but also not to let him sense weakness

Alexander froze for a moment, processing the situation. Politics was becoming ever more complex, demanding a meticulous approach to every ally and rival.

- So I need not only to gain Gleb's support but also to neutralize Stanimir's influence, - the prince said slowly.

His gaze darkened for a moment. Things were not as simple as they had seemed at first glance. One wrong move - and the balance could collapse.

Stanimir, with his cunning, was surely already looking for ways to strengthen his position, possibly conducting secret negotiations with other boyars. And Gleb… would he truly be a loyal ally, or would he try to play both sides at the first opportunity?

Responsibility pressed against his chest like a chainmail that one never takes off, even in sleep. Power was not a sword to be raised over an enemy. It was a knot tightened around his neck - and the moment he loosened his grip, someone else would pull it tighter.

He stood on the edge of change but understood that without control over politics, all his plans would remain mere dreams.

A few mistakes - and discontent would begin to grow like weeds, taking root in the minds of the boyars. Whispers would turn into conspiracies, conspiracies into secret alliances. And then, when he weakened, they would strike. It had always been this way.

Under such conditions, reforms would be out of the question, as all efforts would go toward quelling uprisings and maintaining order. Even if he managed to bring his ideas to life, civil wars could undo them. Everything he achieved could crumble like dust under the hooves of cavalry if he failed to maintain the balance of power.

Every word, every step - a trap or a victory. Mistakes are not corrected; they are remembered. And if he stumbled, they would not let him forget it.

History had already seen rulers who rushed toward change, only for their reforms to perish in the flames of rebellion, leaving behind only the ruins of unfulfilled hopes. Alexander did not intend to become one of them.

Power does not belong to the one who clenches it in his fist, but to the one who forces others to fight for it by his rules.

He could not afford to be just a prince. He had to become the shadow that outruns the conspirators and the fire that burns those who would rise in rebellion. Only then would he hold Kievan Rus.

He was not merely destined to rule - he had to maneuver between ambitions, intrigues, and threats, turning every opportunity into a weapon and every danger into a step toward victory.

Stanislav nodded in affirmation.

- Exactly. You can use this conflict to your advantage. Gleb is an ambitious man. He seeks to develop the land, strengthen his power among the boyars, and control trade. If you show him the prospect of expanding his influence through infrastructure development, he will become your ally. But he will expect concrete actions from you. Words alone will not be convincing enough for such a man.

Alexander narrowed his eyes slightly, mentally weighing the risks.

- And Stanimir? If I strengthen Gleb, he certainly won't stay on the sidelines.

- Stanimir is a cunning fox, - Stanislav smirked, but his gaze remained serious. - He will try to negotiate with other boyars or even with your enemies. Maintaining control over resources is crucial for him. If you don't show him respect and offer at least some concessions, he will begin working against you from the shadows

Alexander sank even deeper into thought. This was a complex chess game where every mistake could turn into a prolonged confrontation. Various options surfaced in his mind, from negotiating with both men to playing on their mutual rivalry.

- It's a delicate balance, - he murmured. - Gleb's support will give me control over trade routes and leverage against the autonomists in Novgorod and Polotsk. But I don't want this to escalate into open conflict with Stanimir and the other boyars

Stanislav studied the prince intently.

- You're right. It's a complicated game. But remember: both of these men understand the language of power and profit. If you speak to them openly, show respect, but remain firm - they will start seeing you as a leader, not a young prince who stumbled into a throne by chance

Alexander smirked slightly.

- If they can't work together, then their interests must be separated. Gleb will get power, Stanimir - influence. One will be grateful, the other - dependent. The key is to ensure that neither gains too much strength

Stanislav nodded approvingly.

- That could work. For example, give Stanimir control over the trade courts while granting Gleb the infrastructure and Kyiv's support. That way, their paths won't cross, and both will have a reason to stay loyal to you

Alexander felt a surge of confidence. Now he had a plan, but he understood that every meeting with these men would require caution and precise decisions.

- Good. We'll start with Gleb, then deal with Stanimir

Stanislav straightened with satisfaction.

- If you play this right, the Turov-Pinsk land will become your stronghold, - he said. - But if you make a mistake...

He didn't finish. He didn't need to. Alexander already knew the answer - and the price of failure.

For a while, silence hung in the dining hall, broken only by the creaking of chairs and the quiet crackling of the fire in the hearth. Alexander slowly ran his finger across the table, contemplating what had been said. The Turov-Pinsk land was just one piece on this board, but how many more were there? In a state like Kievan Rus, solving one issue only led to three new ones arising.

He nodded and shifted his gaze to Stanislav, focusing on his face.

- Is there anyone else I should pay attention to? - he asked, trying to catch any hints of unspoken thoughts in the voivode's voice.

Stanislav smirked slightly and shook his head.

- There are many such people, my prince. In time, you will come to know all those who will play a key role in your rule. But for now, you should focus on those we've already discussed. You will meet the rest later and find the right approach as needed. Rushing into this is dangerous

Alexander nodded. He understood that it was impossible to grasp everything at once - too many intrigues, connections, and ambitions lay hidden behind masks of respect. Mistakes could cost him dearly.

Dobrynya Vsevolodich, who had remained silent until now, leaned forward slightly, resting his hand on the edge of the table. His knuckles whitened slightly - a sign of a man used to restraining impatience. His eyes were fixed on the prince, and his voice grew firmer - he was not merely advising; he was warning.

- My prince, there is another important matter that cannot be postponed, - he began, keeping his tone calm, though a note of steel rang in his voice. - Only a few days have passed since your brothers' deaths. Of course, you have just ascended the throne, and no one expects immediate decisions

He paused briefly, then continued in a lower voice:

- But lands left without rulers cannot remain uncontrolled for long. The local boyars are likely already holding discussions. And some may even be making their own plans. The longer the power vacuum lasts, the greater the temptation for them to fill it in their own way. If you delay, disputes will arise... and soon after, an open struggle for influence

Alexander narrowed his eyes slightly, his voice turning harder.

- You mean Pereyaslavl, Chernigov, Smolensk, and Galich, correct?

Dobrynya gave a barely noticeable nod, but at the last name, his expression shifted slightly. He frowned a little, holding his gaze on the prince.

- My prince... Perhaps you meant the Peremyshl and Terebovl lands?

There was no doubt in his voice, but a subtle caution could be felt. It was as if he was testing whether Alexander fully understood what he was saying.

Alexander instantly realized his mistake. A tight knot formed in his chest - even the slightest carelessness could make someone wonder why the prince was confusing the names of his own lands. A chill ran down his spine.

At this time, the territories of Galich were known as the Peremyshl and Terebovl lands - important border holdings contested by local boyars, the Polish Kingdom, and the Kingdom of Hungary. Dobrynya watched him carefully, not interrupting, but for a fleeting moment, a shadow of doubt crossed his eyes. Alexander noticed it.

- Yes, of course. The Peremyshl and Terebovl lands, - he corrected himself without hesitation.

Dobrynya did not dwell on the mistake, only nodding slightly. His expression remained calm, but deep within his gaze, something resembling a testing curiosity flickered.

- Good. All these lands need new governors. Order is still holding there for now, but they won't last long without leadership. The boyars are already whispering, and if we don't appoint reliable men, soon enough, everyone will start pulling in their own direction

Alexander clenched his fist, processing the words. While Kyiv and Chernigov remained strongholds of princely power, Pereyaslavl guarded the south, and Smolensk held the northern borders, the Peremyshl and Terebovl lands were the most vulnerable. These lands were not the backbone of the state, but leaving them without strong governors would mean exposing the entire western frontier of Kievan Rus to risk.

The Polish and Hungarian kings watched these territories with open interest. Within the regions themselves, the boyars had long grown accustomed to acting at their own discretion, and now an opportunity was unfolding before them.

- We need to choose men who will not only maintain order but also ensure these lands do not become mere bargaining chips in foreign hands. Men who can be trusted

Alexander pondered the situation. The coronation had gathered many senior boyars in Kyiv, giving him a rare chance to appoint future princely governors all at once. But there was one problem - he knew too little about them.

In truth, even among the boyars of the Kyiv lands, he could truly rely only on Stanislav the Great, Oleg Vyshgorodsky, Dobrynya Vsevolodich, and Miroslav the Wise. The rest he knew only from rumors.

He needed to expand his circle of trusted people. Right now, he could rely only on Stanislav's and Dobrynya's experience in selecting governors. Later, when his power solidified, he would decide for himself whether to replace them or keep them. After all, if they did their job well, there might be no need.

Alexander straightened, his gaze growing firmer. Now, while many boyars were still in Kyiv, he had the chance to make his decision. If he missed this moment, he would have to deal with a fait accompli. The boyars would not wait. They would make agreements among themselves, place their own people, strengthen their ties - and by the time the prince wanted to change something, all that would be left for him to do was sign off on their decisions.

- While all the boyars are here, the matter of governors must be settled. If I delay, they will place their own people, and then I'll have to deal not with appointments, but with intrigues

Dobrynya leaned forward slightly, his voice steady but carrying a note of warning.

- Exactly. Right now, you have a rare opportunity to appoint governors with the support of influential boyars. This will not only establish order - it will show that you are not waiting, but acting

He paused briefly, then added with a clear note of caution:

- But remember: no one will miss the chance to push their own candidates. Governorship means power, influence, and in the long run, even hereditary rights. You will have to listen to proposals, but the final word must remain yours. Stanislav and I have prepared a list of potential candidates - people who could be useful to you. But the choice is yours

Dobrynya was speaking about Governors, but Alexander understood that their role extended far beyond local administration. Authority in the regions was always a complex structure. In Kievan Rus, the prince's governors acted as rulers of individual lands, overseeing justice, tax collection, and military affairs. They were not fully independent princes, but they could accumulate influence and become dangerous.

In Byzantium, their equivalent would be the strategoi - military governors who wielded power in the provinces, formally under the emperor but sometimes becoming the centers of revolts.

In the Holy Roman Empire, a similar role belonged to dukes and margraves - those who held frontier and key lands, often with considerable autonomy. In England, they would be called earls, in France - counts, but the essence remained the same: strong men in the provinces could become either a pillar of support or a threat to central authority.

Alexander nodded slowly. The tension was rising - this was his first serious step in shaping his rule. If he appointed men who were too weak, they would be crushed. If he gave too much power to the strong, he risked losing control.

Every name he chose would either strengthen his realm or create a new threat.

He did not just need governors. He needed loyal men.

- Good, - he said quietly and clearly. - Let's discuss the candidates. I need to know everything about those who might take these positions

Stanislav looked at him intently, then slightly shifted his tone - his speech became more businesslike, precise, without unnecessary words.

- Let's start with the Pereyaslav land, my prince. The strongest and most influential man there is Supreme Voivode Ignat, but he is not a suitable candidate since he is already on your council and will not leave his position. However, his authority among the boyars there is exceptionally strong. If you want Pereyaslavl to remain under your control, you must give Ignat the opportunity to choose a candidate himself - or at least suggest one

Alexander remained silent for a few moments, weighing every word Stanislav had said. The measured tapping of his fingers on the wood was steady, as if he were calculating his next move.

- So… - he raised a sharp, wary gaze to the voivode. - Allow Ignat to save face and show that I value his opinion… But at the same time, make sure he doesn't impose a puppet on me?

Stanislav let his gaze slide across the prince's face and smirked - briefly, approvingly, as if he appreciated the firmness in Alexander's voice.

- Exactly. Let him put forward one or two candidates. If they prove reliable, you approve one of them. But if Ignat tries to propose someone overly loyal to himself, you reject that figure under a plausible pretext - and suggest a "compromise" from among others

The prince pulled his hand away from the table, leaned back, and ran his palm over his face. Ignat was not one for conspiracies or hidden schemes. He was a soldier, not a courtier. In his world, things were simple: honor was worth more than profit, a word was stronger than an oath, and a prince was someone who led from the front, not hid behind parchment.

But that world was dying. Now, power was no longer the sword and honor, but the golden seal on a charter.

Yet straightforward nature was not always a virtue. People accustomed to speaking openly often broke under intrigue. And if they didn't break - they were simply removed. Ignat held his position only because all of Pereyaslavl stood behind him. If Alexander tried to bypass him, it wouldn't just be a mistake - it would be a challenge to the entire region.

- He is not the kind of man who plots conspiracies, is he? - Alexander asked, lowering the roughness in his voice to make it sound steadier. - More likely, he'd tell me outright if he disapproved. Or he'd simply refuse to cooperate. If he sees that I can't keep my word, he won't be my enemy or my friend - he'll remain on the sidelines, and such a 'ally' is of little use

- Exactly, - Stanislav inclined his head slightly. - It is important for him to feel that princely authority is not an empty sound, but also not an iron vise. The people of Pereyaslavl are proud, and Ignat is their face. If he convinces them that they can deal with you, they will follow him - and that means they will follow you

Alexander turned his gaze to the massive doors, behind which the muffled noise of the corridor could be heard.

- I don't like trickery either, - the prince said evenly, shifting his eyes back to Stanislav. - I prefer to speak plainly and act justly. But if I have to give orders, - his voice grew firmer, - then I won't hesitate

Stanislav nodded, his shoulders hunching slightly, as if acknowledging the inevitability of harsh measures. There was cautious support in that gesture, but also an understanding that these were dangerous times, and ruling would require a firm hand.

- Then we can start with this, my prince, - the voivode said calmly, holding Alexander's gaze. - Let Ignat name his candidate, but don't miss the chance to make it clear that the final decision is yours

Silence thickened in the hall, like the air before a storm. The oil lamps flickered, casting uneven shadows on the walls. Alexander ran his tongue over his dry lips and crossed his arms over his chest - as if seeking additional confidence in the motion.

- Good, - he finally said, lifting his gaze to Stanislav, and there was no hesitation in his eyes now. - Let's do it. This is where we begin

Alexander ran his palm over the table, brushing aside scattered thoughts. Ignat and his men were only the first step. But the further he went, the more dangerous it would become. Today, he was appointing governors - soon, he would have to answer for their actions.

And what if someone betrayed him? If they decided they could play their own game?

These thoughts were beginning to irritate him. In games, for example, everything was simple: you hovered over a character, and a loyalty bar appeared. 8 out of 10 - reliable. 7 - starting to doubt. 5 - expect trouble. Do something good - the bar rises. Give them reason for discontent - it drops. Managing people this way was easy.

But in real life, there were no bars, no indicators. Here, men could smile, beat their chests, swear loyalty - and then sell their soul for an extra scrap of land.

Appointing a man was easy. Keeping his loyalty - that was the real challenge.

Alexander clenched his fingers, pushing aside the doubts. Now was not the time to drown in uncertainty - decisions had to be made quickly.

- What about the Chernihiv lands? - he finally asked, straightening.

Stanislav leaned back in his chair, allowing himself a barely noticeable moment of relaxation.

- This one is simpler. You've already met Boris Stalnogorsky - at the reception, during the audience. He is a senior boyar who swore loyalty to your father, just as I did, along with Dobrynya and the others. Boris knows the lands of Chernihiv better than anyone and knows how to keep the local clans in check. He has strong ties among the merchants, which means we will have control not only over the land but also over its revenues

Alexander remembered Boris. He had seen him only once, but that was enough to understand - this was a man respected even by his enemies. Tall, broad-shouldered, he looked as if he could break a spear with one hand, but he used his strength differently.

His true weapon was silence, forcing his opponents to speak first, and a gaze, heavy like a leaden seal, offering no kindness to those who tried to deceive him.

Such men did not waste words. If Boris had sworn an oath, could he be trusted to keep it?

Alexander knew that after his father's death, Yaroslav the Wise, many senior boyars - Olga Strumenskaya, Stanislav the Great, and others - had remained faithful to the oath they had given. But not to him. They served the dynasty. If his elder brothers were still alive, neither Olga nor Stanislav would have placed him above the rightful heirs.

But an oath by itself meant nothing. History had seen too many examples where loyalty lasted only as long as the prince remained strong.

What if tomorrow Boris, Olga, or Stanislav were offered greater power? What if those around them started pushing them toward another choice?

Of all the lessons history had to offer, one was the simplest and most terrifying: An oath was just sound. True loyalty rested not on words but on self-interest - and the fear of betrayal's price.

If he wanted to rule, the boyars had to understand: betraying him would cost more than serving him.

And yet, despite this, he knew that in Kievan Rus, an oath meant more than just a promise. Loyalty sworn to a prince remained even after his death because it was not given to a person but to the dynasty, to the state, and to God himself.

Once a boyar swore fealty, he became a pillar of princely power. To break that word was not just betrayal - it was to disgrace oneself, to stain one's honor, and to bring shame upon one's entire lineage.

This was difficult for Alexander to accept. He was used to seeing power as a matter of calculation. An oath? One was given today, another tomorrow. Promises meant nothing unless they came with a price. In his world, the future he had come from, words had ceased to be stronger than iron.

What did an oath mean there, in the 21st century? A meaningless formality. People signed contracts only to search for loopholes to break them. They made promises and forgot them the next day. Loyalty had become a transaction, and honor a bargaining chip.

But here, in Kievan Rus, things were different. Here, honor was worth more than life. Warriors died with their prince's name on their lips, boyars kept their word even in the face of death, and cities fought to the last to avoid staining their oaths with treachery.

Kozelsk, which the Mongols called the "Evil City," had held for seven weeks before falling along with all its defenders. The warriors of Yuri Vsevolodovich died at the Battle of the Sit, but they did not lay down their arms. Even in the ruined Kyiv, the last druzhinniki fought in the debris of the Church of the Tithes, choosing death over surrender.

As long as such men existed, he still had a chance.

- Then everything is decided with Chernigov, - concluded Alexander.

Whether he liked it or not, he had no choice. Boris was as solid as stone. But a stone was not always a foundation. Sometimes, it was an immovable weight that could not be shifted.

As long as Boris remained loyal, he was an asset. But what if tomorrow he decided he didn't need a prince? That he could rule Chernihiv on his own terms?

No, doubting now was unwise. But keeping an eye on Boris was necessary. Until he strengthened his rule, until he fully understood the balance of power, he would have to rely on his father's trusted men.

All that remained was to hope that Boris was truly the man Stanislav described - that his oath was not just words, but an unbroken bond with the previous ruler, now passed to him as the rightful heir.

Stanislav nodded slowly, but there was tension in his gaze.

- Chernihiv will be under reliable protection. But the Smolensk, Peremyshl, and Terebovl lands - that's a different matter entirely. You have few allies there, and the situation is far more complicated than it seems

Alexander frowned.

The Peremyshl and Terebovl lands had never truly obeyed Kyiv's orders. They looked toward the capital but did not see it as their ruler. The boyars there did not serve - they bargained, weighing whom it was most profitable to swear allegiance to. Today, they were silent. Tomorrow, they would demand privileges. And the day after that, they would start looking for a patron beyond the western border.

They were not rebels. Not yet. But if left unchecked, they would become so.

Smolensk, however, was a challenge of a different kind. Rich, deeply connected to Novgorod through trade routes, it was growing more accustomed to independence. The Smolensk boyars did not see themselves as vassals but as masters of their own land. If a weak governor was sent there, the city would easily break away. If one too strict was appointed, the boyars would see it as an attack on their power.

This required not just a man of the prince, but someone the locals would accept as well. Stanislav's words only confirmed his concerns.

- What are the main difficulties? - Alexander asked, already knowing the answer.

Stanislav smirked, but without a trace of amusement.

- Let's start with the Peremyshl and Terebovl lands. There is no single ruling power there, only many influential boyars. Each one sees himself as the master of his domain. They recognize Kyiv - but only as long as it doesn't interfere with their ambitions. Some are waiting to see who comes out on top, others are eyeing Hungary, and a few are looking for ways to gain full independence

He leaned forward slightly.

- If you show weakness, they will start looking beyond the borders. If you try to take them by force, they will move toward a foreign king

Alexander ran his finger thoughtfully along the edge of the table.

- So if I send a governor there without their approval, they will either reject him or turn to a foreign crown

Stanislav chuckled.

- Exactly. If they don't like your choice, they will refuse to accept him. If they fear him, they will try to get rid of him. Open rebellion or assassination would be a last resort - they'd only go that far if they believed you were too weak to respond. More likely, they would simply force the governor out or create conditions so unbearable that he couldn't rule effectively

Alexander's frown deepened.

- And if that happens?

Stanislav leaned forward slowly, his eyes darkening like water before a storm.

- Then it's no longer just discontent. It's an open revolt. They will start sabotaging orders, cutting off supplies, and secretly reaching out to neighbors. The Poles will give them weapons, the Hungarians - gold. And their own boyars? Betrayal

He fell silent, but the silence brought no relief. In the distance, something struck the wall with a dull thud - a gust of wind or a step behind the door.

- And then, my prince… - Stanislav straightened, his shadow stretching along the wall, as if foreshadowing the approaching storm. - More blood will be spilled than in any conquest. Because a war for land is fought with swords. But a war for power? That's a slaughter where every blow comes from behind

He stopped speaking, but the question in his eyes was clear: - how far are you willing to go to prevent this?

Stanislav's words hung in the air, like the distant roll of thunder before a storm.

Alexander stared at him, unblinking. Rebellion. Sabotage. Polish weapons. Hungarian gold. Treachery.

How many times in history had it begun like this? A few weak steps - and a prince turned into a pawn, ready to be knocked from the board.

The dull thud against the wall broke the silence. Alexander flinched but quickly regained control.

He could not afford to be afraid.

He inhaled slowly, exhaled, and clenched his fingers.

- What is the move? Extinguish the fire before it spreads? Strike first? Or weave them into my net?

His gaze darkened.

- The real question is who can rule them without war, - Alexander said. His voice was steady, but deep inside, the cold of doubt still lingered. He turned his eyes to Dobrynya. - Do we have a candidate?

Dobrynya hesitated. Not from uncertainty - he was simply choosing his words. Finally, he answered evenly, almost emotionlessly:

- Senior Boyar Mstislav of Galich. He already holds part of the lands. But that does not make him your man

Alexander narrowed his eyes.

- How reliable is he?

Dobrynya cast a brief glance at Stanislav. The latter smirked, but without amusement.

- Mstislav is not the kind of man who goes against the wind. He negotiates. Today with you, tomorrow with those who might become your enemies. He is not a sword but a scale. As long as the side with your name outweighs the other, he is on your side

- I don't need a toy that the Polish Kingdom can buy with a few promises, - Alexander said coldly.

Stanislav shook his head.

- He is no fool. Kyiv is his shield. His stronghold. If you show that you will not yield to either the Hungarians or the Poles, he will have no reason to seek another protector

Alexander ran a hand over his face. He remembered how his father, Yaroslav the Wise, had kept control over the Peremyshl and Terebovl lands - winning over some boyars with gifts, negotiating with others, and subduing the most rebellious with his druzhina. Now, that fragile balance of peace depended on him.

He didn't yet know what kind of man Mstislav of Galich truly was, but if he already wielded influence, perhaps he could be worked with.

These lands could not be handled recklessly. They required a careful approach. The best option would be to meet with Mstislav of Galich and the other senior boyars of the region after the coronation to discuss the matter of governance.

Alexander understood that appointing a local ruler meant that man would already have power and support among the boyars - but keeping control over such a governor would be difficult. Too easily could he begin to believe that power belonged to him alone. A foreign appointee, on the other hand, would depend solely on the prince but would never be accepted by the locals, who would sabotage orders or even revolt outright.

In the early years of his reign, he could not afford to provoke conflicts. Too much control would spark rebellions, too little would allow the boyars to entrench themselves. He needed time to secure his power, to embed himself into the system, to make sure that princely authority became inevitable.

For now, he had to maneuver - choosing those who would be accepted without rebellion but who would not yet be able to take root deeper than the prince allowed. Letting the boyars believe they still held influence. And when his rule became unshakable - then the policy could change. Then he could rule without looking over his shoulder.

Alexander exhaled, as if sealing his decision.

- Then send a letter to Mstislav and the other senior boyars of the land. I think it's best to settle this matter together with them

Dobrynya answered immediately, his tone calm:

- My prince, there is no need. They will come to Kyiv after the coronation, just like all the other boyars

Alexander narrowed his eyes slightly. For a second, a thought flared in his mind: Why? But the answer was too obvious.

Everyone understood that the coronation had been announced suddenly, and many boyars physically could not have arrived in time. But they could not ignore the event entirely, either.

For all boyars, a journey to Kyiv was not just a courtesy visit - it was a political necessity. They needed to reaffirm their loyalty, strengthen their alliances, and determine whom they should now negotiate with.

- Then we will wait for them in Kyiv, - Alexander concluded, crossing his arms over his chest. - That's when we'll decide who will rule these lands

He ran his palm thoughtfully over the table. In the distance, a bell rang dully, counting the passing time.

- But right now, the west is not my only concern

He lifted his gaze to Stanislav and spoke quietly but clearly:

- Smolensk

Stanislav smirked crookedly - as if he already knew how this would end.

- Smolensk is not just a city; it's a noose around the throat of power. Here, a prince cannot simply give orders - he is either bowed to, or the knot tightens further

He paused, then continued:

- The boyars there are used to handling their affairs independently, but for now, they do not challenge Kyiv's authority. If the governor is weak, they will trample over him. If he is too strict, he will make enemies. What is needed here is someone who can strengthen your power without shattering local traditions

Alexander knew that Smolensk still obeyed Kyiv, but over time, it would start pulling away, exploiting the rulers' weaknesses. His task was not to reconquer the city but to reinforce control before the local nobility began seeing themselves as its true masters.

- We need someone strong enough to keep them in check and flexible enough to coexist with them. Most importantly, I need a man who will not betray me

Stanislav tilted his head slightly; his voice remained steady, but there was caution in his tone:

- I know someone from there. Senior Boyar Radomir of Smolensk. A military man, but no brute - he knows how to negotiate when there's something in it for him. Influential, composed, with a large druzhina. His men trust him. If he sees an alliance with you as beneficial, he will hold the region firmly. If not...

He left the thought unfinished, but the meaning was clear: if Radomir did not want to submit, he would not. Alexander raised an eyebrow slightly. He had heard of Radomir of Smolensk - he was a capable voivode - but knew little about his true potential.

- Who else? - the prince asked, shifting his gaze from Stanislav to Dobrynya. - Are there no other options?

Dobrynya shrugged slightly.

- Some among the Smolensk nobility might support you instead of Radomir, but their influence is weaker. That would mean a long struggle for power, and time is not on our side. But the choice is yours

Alexander's thoughts flickered like flames in the wind. Smolensk was a fortress-city, but what good were walls if an enemy settled within them? If a governor decided that power belonged to him and not to Kyiv, that fortress would become a trap.

- So… - he murmured, lifting his gaze.

Stanislav sat still, his face calm, but the tightness of his lips made it clear that he understood how risky it was to rely on Radomir. Alexander sighed - if even Stanislav, so sure of his control, was uneasy, then the situation was indeed precarious.

In Kyiv, Chernihiv, and Pereyaslavl, Stanislav's name carried the weight of law. But beyond those lands, his power faded like frost beneath the sun. Kievan Rus was vast, and only the prince could hold it together - not a Senior Boyar, no matter how strong.

- In any case, we need a man who will not only maintain power but also remember who sits on the throne, - Stanislav added, his tone softening. - And the sooner he is appointed, the less time there will be for intrigue

Alexander knew that every delay was a gift to those who wished to weaken his rule.

- We need to find out how willing Radomir of Smolensk is to accept my authority, - he said thoughtfully. - First, we will deal with Chernihiv and Pereyaslavl. After the coronation, when the senior boyars from Smolensk, Peremyshl, and Terebovl arrive, we will decide on their governors

Stanislav smirked slightly, a flicker of approval in his eyes.

- Of course. That's the best approach. Now that breakfast is over and our discussions are settled, it's time to meet with Olga Strumenskaya, Gleb of Turov, Boris Stalnogorsky, and the other loyal boyars of your father. They are waiting for us in the prince's small council chamber

He paused briefly, as if letting the weight of his words sink in.

- That is the place where your father met with his most trusted men to decide the fate of these lands. Now, it is your turn

Alexander set his goblet down - not harshly, but firmly, as if placing the final mark on their conversation. The taste of honeyed mead still lingered on his tongue, but now it felt foreign. The true taste of the day was different - bitter, like power, and sharp, like the mistakes for which princes were only forgiven after death. He ran his palm over the heavy oak table, hesitated for a moment, then rose to his feet.

- Then let's not waste time. Lead the way

Stanislav gave a short nod, and Dobrynya rose to his feet. At Alexander's signal, the servants swiftly and silently began clearing the table. Mstislav and Mirnomir immediately followed them.

As soon as they stepped out of the dining hall, a servant appeared beside Dobrynya almost soundlessly. The young man was dressed in a dark tunic and leather boots without metal buckles to avoid making noise on the stone floor. At first, he slipped into the shadow of a column, as if checking that he wouldn't be interrupted, then stepped forward. His voice was quiet but confident:

- My lord, ships carrying the Novgorod and Chernihiv boyars have begun unloading at the port. They have brought gifts and goods

Dobrynya responded immediately, wasting no time:

- How many Senior Boyars?

- Two from Novgorod, one from Chernihiv, - the servant nodded, avoiding eye contact with the prince and Stanislav, but showing no fear.

Dobrynya tilted his head slightly, running his fingertips along his belt, as if weighing whether to say more. Something heavy flickered in his eyes - concern? Or anticipation?

- So they made it in time for the coronation, - he murmured, then turned to Alexander. - My prince, I need to leave to meet them. These are not mere envoys, but men who influence the decisions of the veche and could play a key role in strengthening our hold on Chernihiv and securing agreements with Novgorod

Alexander paused for a moment under the carved vault, considering his words, then gave a short nod.

- Very well. Go. Tell them I will receive everyone at the evening feast. If necessary, arrange accommodations in the guest chambers

Without another word, Dobrynya bowed his head slightly and stepped aside, disappearing into the shadows of the corridor. The stone floor echoed under his steps, the sound quickly swallowed by the distant murmur of voices - as if palace intrigues were already pulling him in.

Stanislav, standing slightly apart, crossed his arms, watching Dobrynya leave. Only when the footsteps faded did the corner of his mouth twitch - a smirk of a man already calculating his next move.

- There are more guests in Kyiv today than at a wedding, - Stanislav murmured. - The evening feast will be lively… and who knows if everyone will wish you a long reign

Alexander nodded. This feast was not just a meal - it was part of the game. A coronation meant nothing if it wasn't recognized by those who held real power. The boyars and delegations had not come out of courtesy; they were waiting for a sign that the new prince acknowledged them as allies.

Even in mourning, such meetings were never canceled - only held more reservedly, without celebration, music, or excessive drinking. The Great Lent imposed restrictions on the table, but a rich Lenten feast was no less grand than a festive one.

Alexander exhaled slowly, running a hand over his face, wiping away the remnants of drowsiness as if brushing dust from armor. The day had only begun, yet he already felt its weight.

They moved through the corridor of the princely terem, their footsteps echoing dully beneath the stone arches. The air carried a sharp scent of wax and smoke, mingled with the aroma of old scrolls and ancient wood. This scent had seeped into the very walls, soaking into the stone - the scent of power, one that did not fade even with time.

Striding toward them with quick but measured steps was Radomir Serebryany, the prince's chief treasurer. In his hands, he held a scroll and a tally board marked with notches for swift calculations. Noticing the prince and Stanislav, he bowed but did not waste time on ceremony.

- My prince. Stanislav the Great

Alexander gave a slight nod, not slowing his pace.

- How is the treasury's work progressing?

Radomir adjusted his grip on the scroll and stepped closer.

- It's too early to speak of results, - he replied. - Only three days have passed since the order. But the work has begun

Alexander ran his finger along the edge of the nearest column, feeling the roughness of the stone. Cold - just like the boyars who were draining the treasury. He lingered for a moment, as if testing how deep the crack ran.

- Too early? Or are they simply stalling, hoping to keep the truth hidden until the last moment?

His gaze lifted to Radomir.

- What has been done so far?

- Lists of tax collectors are being compiled in Kyiv and Pereyaslavl. Men have been sent to other lands, but we must wait for their return. The first discrepancies have already been found - some places have been paying less into the treasury than they should. It could be a miscalculation, but if we dig deeper…

Alexander exhaled, his voice carrying a steely edge.

- So they've already begun siphoning off the treasury. And the tolls?

Radomir ran his fingers along the scroll as if weighing his answer. A shadow flickered in his eyes - a mix of irritation and caution. He knew this was more than just a question of numbers. It concerned men who had grown fat at the prince's expense.

- That is more complicated. Merchants who pay the prince's toll collectors follow the law. But the trading courts have their own people, and they pay not into the treasury, but to whomever benefits them most. We are checking the records, but it will take time

Alexander turned his gaze to Stanislav - slowly, deliberately, as if assessing him. There was no question in his eyes, only the expectation of an answer.

- Have your men uncovered anything at the river crossings and markets?

Stanislav stepped closer, his movement heavy, as if driving prey into a corner. His voice was calm, but there was something in its steadiness - he had already chosen his target.

- We have leads. Along the Dnipro, a few collectors have grown rich too quickly, and in Chernihiv, one boyar is taking more than he should. Pereyaslavl is in better shape, but we had to apply pressure in certain places

Radomir scratched something onto his tally board with a sharp stroke, then hesitated for a moment, staring at the marks as if he had found something more than just numbers. Alexander frowned.

- Name them

Stanislav narrowed his eyes slightly, his fingers gliding along his belt, brushing the hilt of his sword - not a threat, just the habit of a man accustomed to hunting.

- Some names are already circulating, but for now, they're just suspicions. - His voice dropped, becoming heavier. - If we strike too soon, they'll go to ground, and we'll catch no one. We need at least two or three months to gather reports from all regions, verify them through the scribes and men in the druzhina

Alexander ran his thumb along the edge of his sleeve, his gaze tracing the intricate embroidery. Everything was held together by threads. Pull one too soon, and the entire pattern unraveled.

- If they are undermining the treasury, this isn't just theft. It's an attack on power. Find the proof. Without it, we cannot strike

Stanislav leaned forward slightly, the corner of his mouth twitching into a brief, predatory smirk - not one of amusement, but the expression of a man who had already caught the scent of his prey.

- We are working, my prince. Checking reports, tracking expenses. Money doesn't disappear into thin air - every coin has a path. And sooner or later, that path will lead us to the right people. I'd say within three or four months, we'll have solid evidence against the boyars. The tax collectors can be exposed sooner - within a month, maybe two at most

Alexander slowed his step slightly, weighing every word of the voivode. His eyes narrowed - not in anger, but in anticipation.

- Then we wait. But we do not remain idle. Let them think we suspect nothing. When the time comes, we will strike with precision

Stanislav inclined his head slightly - not as a subordinate, but as a man ready to carry out the order.

- I believe one or two public punishments will be enough to make the others understand. The collectors can be seized immediately - their greed betrays them. But the boyars… They don't steal openly. They build systems where theft looks like a privilege. Their mistakes must not only be exposed but turned into weapons against them

Alexander slowly ran his fingers over his wrist, as if checking his pulse - steady, unwavering.

- Then let them tighten the noose themselves. The key is not to let them realize that we already hold the rope. And when the time comes, we will pull it tight - so tight that they will have no escape

Stanislav gave a slight nod, but there was no submission in the gesture - only silent agreement with the inevitable.

- It will be done, my prince

Alexander shifted his gaze to Radomir, holding it a moment longer than necessary. Long enough for him to understand: everyone would be checked.

- Work without haste, but precisely. I need real numbers, not guesses

Radomir nodded, but his fingers trembled slightly as he adjusted his grip on the scroll. The movement was barely noticeable, but Alexander caught it. He gave no reaction - only narrowed his eyes slightly, marking the detail in his mind.

The treasurer quickly regained his composure and bowed his head.

- It will be done, my prince

Alexander knew nothing could be rebuilt in a few days. The treasury, which had followed the same rules for years, could not be changed by a single decree. Any reform was not just parchment with a seal - it was living people who needed to be retrained and convinced that the new order was better than the old.

He was about to move on but slowed his step, as if remembering something.

- What about the other initiatives? The plans for border fortifications, the construction of schools at monasteries, and shelters for orphans?

Radomir gave a brief nod, but there was tension in his voice.

- The coronation distracted everyone, but Senior Monk Boris had already prepared the calculations. If needed, we can begin the first projects immediately. For now, only the shelter plans are ready. The rest will start after the coronation.

Alexander nodded, mentally calculating the timelines. He could already see that each endeavor would take not weeks, but years. This was not like a game or a book, where a single command changed everything overnight. People would not abandon familiar ways instantly, even if the "new" was for their own benefit.

Compiling a full register of taxes and tolls would take at least a year, and restructuring the collection system even longer - several years at best. Tightening control over trade duties would require at least a year, and that was if he acted harshly.

Building schools at monasteries, shelters, and fortifications along the borders - this was not the work of a single decree but a plan that would stretch across years.

Alexander suddenly recalled the Byzantine gifts. He had enough hryvnias in the treasury, but the more, the better - gold was never in excess for a prince.

- Right, Radomir, - he said, narrowing his eyes slightly. - Yesterday, after the audience, you took the Byzantine gifts. Have you counted them? How much do they amount to?

The treasurer adjusted his grip on the scroll again.

- Yes, my prince. While you were in negotiations, I collected the gifts from the ceremonial hall with the treasury officials. Everything was recorded, cross-checked with the original inventory, and delivered to the treasury

He paused briefly, as if recalling details.

- Two dozen large pearls, an enkolpion cross, several silver vessels with engravings, a gilded censer, and frankincense from Jerusalem. Everything was delivered intact and accounted for

Alexander ran his finger along the edge of a column, feeling the roughness of the stone. Cold, like the tone in Radomir's voice. He slowly shifted his gaze to the treasurer, as if testing whether he could endure the silence.

- And how much is it worth?

Radomir hesitated for a moment, then ran his finger along the edge of the tally board, as if verifying his calculations.

- If we count only its monetary value - 400 hryvnias. But some items cannot be sold, my prince. The enkolpion, for example, is a relic - it cannot be melted down for silver

- I know, - Alexander nodded. - Such things are not sold, but they can be used in other ways

Alexander pondered. The Byzantines had not simply brought gifts - they had embedded them with symbolism. Money was important, but even more crucial was how these treasures could be used in the game of influence.

Radomir, seeing that Alexander had fallen silent, leaned forward slightly, lowering his voice like a conspirator - but without losing his firmness. His fingers froze over the parchment for a moment, as if testing whether he should speak further.

- My prince, there is one more thing. Some tax collectors have already arrived. The rest will make it after the coronation. If you allow it, we could gather them all so that you can meet them personally

Alexander glanced at him - lazily, yet attentively, with a shadow of amusement. There was no reproach in that look, no trust either - just a silent reminder of who decided how far one could go. The new system had barely taken its first steps, but it was already unsettling those who had lived too long under the old ways.

- Good. Let everyone come to me after the coronation. And you and the scribes from the treasury too

Radomir lifted his head ever so slightly. The difference between Alexander three days ago and now was striking. Back then, he had stood before a young prince - cautious, attentive to the words of his elders. But now, this man was no longer waiting for advice - he was dictating terms.

The treasurer ran his fingers over the scroll - not to adjust it, but simply to occupy his hands.

- Of course, my prince, - his voice remained even, but a flicker of tense thought still glowed in his eyes.

Alexander leaned forward slightly, not raising his voice, yet making each word sound like a warning.

- After the coronation, we won't just review the reports. We will decide who is truly needed in this system - and who is not

Radomir nodded slowly, not rushing to respond. He was used to firm rulers, but he was also used to the idea that every one of them could be reasoned with. This prince, however, was not offering to talk - he was offering to listen.

Alexander ran a hand over his chin, feeling the rough stubble beneath his fingers. The first steps had been taken, but that was not enough. Fixing past mistakes was like patching an old tunic when the armor beneath it was already pierced.

There was no time to mend - he needed a new blade, sharp and ruthless. If he didn't seize control now, power would slip through his fingers like sand in the wind.

He didn't just need to announce reforms - he needed to make everyone understand: The old system was dying. And anyone who tried to cling to it would be crushed alongside it.

Alexander traced a finger along the cold stone wall. Power was like this - hard, unyielding. But loosen your grip, and time would wear it away, like rain eroding carvings in stone.

The treasury would be his first major step toward real authority.

Create a Unified Center of Financial Management - the Treasury of the Grand Prince.

Silver was the lifeblood of the state. And as long as the veins of Kievan Rus flowed in all directions, the realm was too weak. But if he gathered those streams into a single current - then all power would be in his hands.

Yet reforms did not live on scrolls - they lived in those who enforced them. As long as these men were loyal to the old ways, the new order would remain just words. If he wanted to change Rus, he had to change them first.

But trying to reform the entire land at once would only get him crushed. He had to start with Kyiv. Here, his power was strongest. Here were his druzhina, his people, his laws. If the reform succeeded here, the other lands would follow.

Alexander understood: establishing order in the treasury was one thing - making everyone accept the new rules was another. The merchants were used to their own people, the boyars - to their own profits. They couldn't simply be erased from the system. But if the first step was control over taxes, the next would be control over the lands, and then - over the entire state.

First - the flow of silver into the treasury.

No more governors keeping half the collections for themselves. No more merchants paying whomever they pleased. Now, the entire tax system answered to one man - the Princely Treasurer. From now on, all collectors reported not to the boyars but directly to Kyiv.

A tax registry - a knot tightening around the throat of Rus. Some would pull it tighter, others would try to loosen it. But only the prince would decide who would breathe freely - and who would choke.

No more Poludye as the foundation of power. Taxes would no longer be paid through the prince's yearly tour - they would be written in a book. But the people were used to paying the sword, not parchment. They would have to learn. No more furs, honey, or cloth handed over however they saw fit just to avoid wrath. Now, taxes would be fixed, recorded, and accounted for.

No more hiding wealth behind poor harvests or broken roads.

No more merchants choosing whom to pay. Now - only princely markets, only standardized tolls. Any violations - banishment from trade.

But most importantly - control.

Unannounced audits, secret ledgers, the prince's court - when a few thieves lost not only their silver but their hands, the rest would quickly understand that the old tricks would no longer save them.

Three years - if Kievan Rus accepted the new order.

Five - if the old ways had to be burned out with red-hot iron.

Ten - if the fear of change proved stronger than the fear of the prince. And if he failed - it wouldn't take his lifetime, but someone else's.

Kyiv would be the first step. If it worked here, the rest would follow like a river's current - Pereyaslavl, Chernihiv, the Turov-Pinsk lands. Then - Smolensk and Galicia.

Novgorod, Polotsk, the Rostov-Suzdal lands - those could not be subdued by force, but they could be made to choose. And in the end - Tmutarakan, the last harbor where the tides of power would reach last.

Where he could not break them, he would bribe them.

Where he could not bribe them, he would force them to decide - submit, or be left behind.

This would take years. Perhaps a decade.

Alexander knew that patience was not the weapon of the weak, but of those who knew how to wait for the right moment.

And he would wait.

Build.

Break.

Until the day came when all of Rus bowed before him.

Or until his name was forgotten - along with those who had failed to hold power.

***

Thank you to everyone who is reading! I would greatly appreciate your feedback.

Chapter 25. Whisper of the Steppe Storm

I've finally wrapped up the matters of governors and administration. I hope you found it interesting to watch Alexander make decisions. There are no easy choices here - it's never as simple as appointing a governor and having everything fall neatly into place. Every character is alive, each with their own ambitions, and events don't always unfold as expected.

If you notice any repetitions - like when I mention the same information about characters or events more than once - and it stands out to you, I'd be grateful if you pointed it out in the comments, mentioning the chapter and the repeated passages.

It's physically difficult to keep track of everything. Besides creating a multilayered world while maintaining historical accuracy, realism, intrigue, and tension, I also have my personal life, work, and studies. Sometimes, my mind is pure chaos. So if you spot any inconsistencies, I'd be happy to hear about them and fix them.

Thank you for your support, advice, and criticism. I truly appreciate everyone who takes the time to write and help improve this story!

Note:

In Rus, an oath was not just words but a sacred vow - breaking it meant bringing a curse upon oneself and one's lineage. Chronicles, religious traditions, and historical events confirm this.

Swearing an oath meant binding yourself to God, the prince, and the state.

Breaking it meant not just personal disgrace, but doom for one's entire family.

An oath was not sealed with paper but with sacred symbols - swords, crosses, or Perun himself.

Loyalty to a prince meant more than life - it was not just a warrior's duty but a code of honor.